#i am so sorry nic i hope you found someone else to see those new years fireworks with

[oh-mother-i-cannot-weave]

god im so fucking pathetic like at times i will literally be violently sobbing to the point of throwing up when i see the moon because it reminds me of my ex this is actually so pathetic

[azucanela]

13. DRUNKEN CONFESSION | TSUKISHIMA KEI 

1K CELEBRATION MASTERLIST 

SUMMARY: Tsukishima makes the mistake of getting drunk at a party that Y/N happens to be attending. Being the kind soul she is, Y/N makes it her mission to get him home alive. Now, she expected mild resistance seeing as he was drunk, she didn’t expect a confession of his undying love for her. 

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

WARNINGS: alcohol, don’t drink irresponsibly kids, drunk tsukishima[best tsukishima]

A/N: i am so excited to write for tsukki again aslkdhaksdhk also this reminds me of Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray lol

Meeting Kuroo Tetsuro and Bokuto Koutarou was a mistake, befriending them was an even bigger mistake, but there was no doubt in Tsukishima’s mind that agreeing to hang out with them had by far been his biggest mistake. Getting drunk with them? Even worse. Now, thinking back to the reason he agreed, Tsukishima wondered if it was worth it.

He’d been adamant, declining every single one of their attempts to get him to attend to stupid party they’d been nagging him about for the past week. Apparently one of their mutual college friends was throwing the party and all were welcome, not that Tsukishima wanted to be welcome. He’d found parties, especially college parties, almost childlike. It hadn’t been the first time they’d tried to get him to go to a party, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last, but he despised parties. Mostly because of the ridiculous mess that would accumulate over time in the area. 

If there was one thing he hated, it was a mess. Now, Tsukishima never thought that he’d be the one making the mess, as he was fairly sure he’d spilt alcohol onto the couch, but then again nothing ever goes how he expects. Nothing ever goes his way. But sitting on the couch of the stranger’s home, music blasting, lights flashing, and bodies moving, Tsukishima finds himself reflecting as to why, how he ended up here. And of course, his eyes end up on Y/N L/N. Which he found ironic as he allowed a laugh to escape him, confusing and likely concerning those nearby him. 

All it had taken was the mention of her name and he was sold. 

They’d known each other since his first year, they’d been placed in the same class and if Tsukishima was honest, Y/N had been the only competent one there. And whenever he was absent, someone had to ensure he got notes and homework on whatever he missed. Now, he easily could’ve asked Yamaguchi to do it, and yet, he found his way over to the desk of Y/N L/N and asked her. 

Maybe it had been an excuse to speak with the pretty girl in his class, maybe not. It didn’t matter in Tsukishima’s eyes. Of course, communication only when absent suddenly turned into texts about daily homework, to texts about things other than homework, to calls going on til 5AM, to going out to study together at the café Y/N liked so much. 

Then she became the new manager of the Volleyball Club and things got worse. Suddenly he was seeing her in school, after school, and during a concerning amount of his free time. Y/N was a constant in his life, something Tsukishima could not escape no matter how hard he tried.

Not that he wanted to.

Scoffing to himself as he tears his eyes away from Y/N’s figure, who was dancing to the rapid beat of the music alongside a guy— one that Tsukishima had already decided he disliked— Tsukishima’s eyes bore straight into the red solo cup in hand. As though the cup would give him an answer to his current predicament, the fact that he was irrevocably in love with Y/N L/N and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. And nothing he would do about it.

Normally it was easy to block out thoughts like this one. Of course, normally, he was sober. Right now, he was definitely not sober, he was incredibly drunk if he was honest. Something he blamed Kuroo and Bokuto for, something he would continue to blame them for when he woke up with a pounding head and immense nausea the following morning. Unlike them, he was capable of hiding the fact that he was drunk.

Ceasing his glare at the red solo cup, Tsukishima brought it back up to his lips to take another sip of the alcoholic beverage, only to realize he’d emptied it out. Inhaling deeply, Tsukishima took one last look at Y/N, who’s eyes met his, causing them to light up in recognition. She waved enthusiastically at him, beaming from beside the random guy she’d taken to. 

Despite the sudden urge to puke— the urge that might’ve been alcohol and might’ve been the sight of Y/N beside the guy— Tsukishima offered her a small smile before inhaling deeply and coming to a stand. His lanky frame swayed slightly, a weightless feeling overcoming him as blood rushed to his head and he became dizzy. Tsukishima couldn’t help but bring a hand to his head as he began to tip over, the hand with the drink extending outwards in hopes of steadying himself on a non existent wall.

He probably would’ve fallen had Y/N not been there, of course, Tsukishima sincerely doubted she wanted his cup to collide with her shirt, along with the rest of him. 

Y/N simply grimaced she felt the small drops of whatever alcohol was left splatter around them, though she didn’t know if the smell was from the drink itself or the wasted boy before her. His eyes were squeezed shut as he regained focus, blinking once, twice before seeing her face and saying, “oh.” His eyes trail down her figure, noticing that what was left of the liquid had landed on her shirt, his eyes flick over to the now empty cup, allowing him to connect the dots. “Sorry.”

A small laugh escapes her as she brings a hand behind him, and Tsukishima doesnt know why she laughed, an as he laughed along, he saw the irony in the situation once more. Because he wouldn’t have apologized if it had been anyone else. He’s distracted from this thought as the hand behind him begins coming up to his back to support him, the other throwing his arm around her shoulder as she spoke, “let’s get you upstairs okay?”

He pushed up his glasses with one of his hands, nose scrunching as they lay crookedly across his face, “you’re not going to take advantage of me, are you L/N?”

It’s a tease, a way to salvage some of his reputation, to maintain a small part of the facade he tries to play around her, the one she sees through most of the time. Of course, Y/N had yet to see through the facade of ‘friend that isn’t in love with you’ so that was good. But, Tsukishima can’t deny the feeling of embarrassment that floods him because she’s seeing his like this, a mess. Nonetheless Y/N’s cheeks warm as she guides him through the crowd and up the stairs, “I would never do that, Tsukishima.”

He can’t help but scoff because he knows that, she was far too good to do such a thing. Just another reason she would never feel the same way he did. And yet, he simply responds, “didn’t I tell you to call me Kei?”

Her nose scrunches up and she tilts her head up at him in confusion, “no. You never told me to call you by your first name Tsuki-”

“Kei.” He corrects as Y/N knocks a few times on the door, a look of disgust washing over her face momentarily before guiding his further down the hallway to an empty room. 

Y/N’s eyes scan the room, before she seats him on the bed and shuts the door behind her, “did Kuroo and Bokuto just leave you all by yourself?”

Tsukishima didn’t necessarily remember how he’d gotten alone, but he was fairly sure it had involved a bet between Kuroo and Bokuto over who had the better cannonball. Last he checked, Bokuto had been on the roof and Akaashi had been... panicked to say the least, all while Kuroo cheered him on. Tsukishima was fairly sure that he saw himself out after that.

“Kinda.” His arm extends outwards to grab her hand and pull her closer to him, suddenly overwhelmed by the need for human contact that he normally foregoes.

Y/N’s mouth gapes open at the sudden action, though she makes no comment on it, full well knowing he’d cease all contact if she did due to embarrassment. And if Y/N was honest, she liked the apparently affectionate Tsukishima. So she simply looked down at him as she removed his crooked glasses from his face before turning around and placing them on the dresser behind her. Slipping her phone out of her pocket, Y/N is about to call an Uber for her drunken friend when his arms pull her back against him. 

Once Y/N is secured in her arms, Tsukishima falls backwards onto the bed, eliciting a squeal from Y/N who falls alongside him. Tsukishima finds himself unable to contain the laughter than escapes him at the sight of the baffled look on Y/N’s face, her brows drawn together in confusion as she sat herself back up, only for Tsukishima to throw his arm over her to keep her down.

He shifts, laying his head on her stomach, and Y/N grows quiet at the intimate gesture, but says nothing as she returns her attention to the calling an Uber. Tsukishima had never been affectionate, sure he’d offer the occasional pat on the head, maybe a hug if she was upset, but he’d never been so...

Close.

“You look cute when you’re confused, Y/N.” His chin is resting on her stomach as he stares up at her, and Y/N just gives him a look that says she doesn’t believe him, which Tsukishima deems as a requirement to affirm his statement, “I mean it.” 

A small laugh escapes her, and Tsukishima finds himself burying his face into her abdomen as she ruffles his hair, “sure, Kei.” Her hand moves to withdraw from his head, only for him to grab it, holding it there. Y/N raises a brow at this action, but seems to get the message as she begins to run her fingers through his hair. And Tsukishima shuts his eyes contentedly, inhaling deeply.

Was it weird to think she smelt nice? Had she always smelt this nice? Was the alcohol making his think these weird thoughts? Tsukishima could’ve sworn that her laugh had never sounded so.. pretty. Like one of the songs on his playlist. “You have a nice laugh.” His words are quiet, almost as though he’s saying it to himself, and Y/N almost doesn’t hear him. “And you smell nice.” 

Y/N falters, her movements pausing as she looks down at him. She’s never seen him like this, and she probably never would again, Y/N had a feeling he’d threaten her once he was sober. Then again, he hadn’t threatened her for a while, which was odd for him, though she’d discounted it as him being in a good mood the first time around, it didn’t make sense for Tsukishima Kei to be in a good mood this long. 

She dismisses these thoughts, clearing her throat when Tsukishima looks up at her with a curious look, a hint of annoyance evident in his face as he waits expectantly for her hand to resume its movements. “You’re a very affectionate drunk, Kei.” Is all Y/N mumbles as she continues to run her hand through his hair. 

“Only because it’s you.” 

Reminding herself that he had far too much to drink, Y/N rolls her eyes at his words, returning her attention to her phone, only for Tsukishima to frown, snatching the phone from her grasp and throwing it behind him. “Tsukishima what the-” From the pointed look he gave her, Y/N huffed, glaring at him as she continued, “Kei what do you think you’re doing?”

He practically pouted as he replied grumpily, “getting your attention.” Okay maybe she was right, he was an affectionate drunk, but that was only because Tsukishima was fairly sure he was on the verge of confessing his apparent love for her. Something he’d sworn to himself he’d never do for the sake of their friendship, and himself.

“Well I’m trying to get you an Uber— and no it isn’t a RideShare I know you hate those.” Y/N grumbled, moving to sit up, she gently placed Tsukishima’s head back onto the bed as he laid there in shock, watching Y/N pick the phone up off the floor.

“Uber is expensive.” His brows furrowed as he pushed himself up on his elbows, Tsukishima was shocked she’d even remembered he disliked the Ride Share option. They’d only ridden in an Uber once together, and he’d complained afterwards about having to share a space with the strange guy in the car with them. If Tsukishima was honest, his main issue was the way the guy looked at Y/N but... she didn’t need to know that. 

Y/N looked up from her phone momentarily to meet his eyes as she agreed, “yes, it is.” She was still tapping away at her phone, “but I don’t have my car.”

“Use my phone.” Tsukishima offered, he had the Uber app which would allow him to pay for his own ride. His hand fell to his pocket, only to realize that his phone wasn’t there. Impulsively, he began to pat his other pockets in search of the device.

One hand moves into her pocket, though this doesn’t stop her from continuing to type one handed. “It’s fine.” Y/N mumbles in response, her free hand raised with his phone in hand before she slips it back into her pocket.

“I’ll pay you back.” Though Tsukishima quickly realizes he didn’t feel his wallet in any of his pockets either, hands returning to pat them down once more, only for Y/N to gesture at him with his wallet now in hand. 

Slipping the wallet into her other back pocket, Y/N internally curses clothing designers for failing to make women more suitable pockets as she responds, “you don’t have to Kei.”

If Tsukishima was honest, Y/N was always like this. She was always taking care of others, even him. Though he rarely needed it, and was far to prideful to ask for assistance at times, she always seemed to be there when he needed her. And even when he didn’t need her, they were together. 

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was because Bokuto and Kuroo had been teasing him about a crush he hadn’t even told them about, one so obvious that they knew the mention of Y/N’s name would convince him to come. Maybe it was because they suggested he confess that night, maybe it was because it finally hit him that Y/N L/N was one of the beautiful people he knew inside and out, and even if she didn’t love him back she deserved to know she was loved. 

“I think I’m in love with you.” His voice is distant, almost as if he isn’t there, eyes glassed over as he stares at Y/N in awe. 

Maybe it was a mistake. 

Y/N nodded along to his words absentmindedly as she responded, “didn’t I say it was fine—" She paused her movements entirely, phone nearly falling to the ground when it slipped out of her fingers had it not been for Tsukishima’s arm reaching out to catch it. Y/N looked up at him, mouth gaped open as she stared at him in shock. 

And then she laughed. 

“God, Tsukki you are so drunk.”

The reminders that the boy was drunk were coming in at full force now. Because in no world would Tsukishima Kei have feelings for her, and in no time or space would he admit to it. They were just close friends, they’d known each other since the start of high school and Tsukishima wasn’t stupid enough to seek a relationship full well knowing they could end up at different college when they graduated. And Tsukishima would never ask her to call him by his first name, especially since all he did was tease her and pester her in his free time.

Right. 

It wasn’t like he was visibly kinder to her, and it wasn’t like Kiyoko had pointed out about half a dozen times that he clearly had feelings for her. It also wasn’t like Y/N brought home two very drunk boys known as Kuroo and Bokuto who had offhandedly mentioned the blond’s feelings for her. No, it wasn’t like Tsukishima had threatened the guy who wouldn’t stop hitting on her at the start of the party, or took class notes for her even though she never asked him to. No, it wasn’t like they facetimed until 5AM having deep conversations, or like every time they studied together, no matter how stupid the question he’d answer it, even if he’d normally bully someone for asking something like that.

It wasn’t like that at all. 

Tsukishima is staring at her, gauging her reaction, even if he is drunk he still has the same analytical look in his eyes as he speaks, “you’re not stupid, Y/N.” He looks away and Y/N swears she can see his cheeks tinting red as her own begin to warm. His eyes zero in on the half empty bottle of vodka on the desk, and he wonders if getting even more drunk would be the solution to his problems. At least then he wouldn’t have to remember this in the morning. “You’re a lot of things, but you aren’t stupid.”

He wishes he didn’t see her bring a hand to her mouth, which had gaped open once more, and he wishes that he didn’t say anything at all. He wishes that he didn’t come to this stupid party, or walk over to her stupid desk that day in their first year. He wishes he didn’t fall in love.

No, that’s not true. Tsukishima knows thats not true because he can’t deny that the way he feels around her is something ethereal. She made him feel a way that he never thought he’d be capable of feeling, and yet there he was. 

Inhaling deeply, he finds himself slipping off the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the way Y/N struggles to find words to reply as he moves over to the desk to grab the bottle of Vodka off the table because he did not want to remember this at all. The thoughts he normally blocks out while sober are flooding his mind once more, and Tsukishima can’t help but frown. Who would wanna remember losing one of the most important people in their lives, and being the reason it happened? Not him, that’s for sure.

A smaller hand stops him, coming to his wrist, and Tsukishima simply sighs, turning to look at her with an apathetic look on his face. Y/N pulls him closer to her, and when he stands in front of her, she simply brings his glasses to his face wordlessly. Tsukishima’s eyes squeeze shut as she does, and when he opens them he can clearly see Y/N beaming up at him as she ruffles his hair. “I love you too, Kei.” 

His eyes pierce into hers, and he leans forward slightly, “I want to kiss you.”

Y/N is silent for a moment, eyes meeting his before she bursts out laughing, “Kei, when I said I wasn’t taking advantage of you, I meant it.” She taps his nose with her finger, “you’re drunk. And don’t even try to deny it, you may seem kinda sober, but you wouldn’t have confessed if you were.” Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she takes his hand, “now let’s go, your Uber is here.”

“Right.” He mumbles, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, “but you owe me a kiss.” 

Bringing a hand to her temple, Y/N exhales deeply, “god you are so forward while drunk.” She can feel her cheeks warm as she evades his stare, pulling him out of the room. 

“You love it.” Tsukishima replies with a smirk, reveling in the fact that she’s becoming flustered, even as he stumbles slightly, still struggling to walk properly. 

Rolling her eyes, Y/N brings her hands to steady him, “well you owe me a shirt.”

“You have my wallet.” Comes his response, shrugging. 

Y/N likely would’ve replied had Bokuto and Kuroo not come up the stairs, soaked in water, Akaashi close behind the pair with their things in hand as he guided them down the hall. This didn’t stop them from yelling, “TSUKISHIMA YOU DID IT!” 

He’s smiling in a way he likely never would’ve sober, a broad laugh escaping him because he didn’t expect this. But hey, it’s a nice surprise. Turns out the girl he’s in love with is also in love with him. He supposed Bokuto and Kuroo surviving their dive off the roof was a bonus. And so was the flustered look Y/N dawned as they passed the two boys and their designated driver. 

It was a nice night. Even if the following morning would probably suck when he woke up with a killer hangover. 

A/N: this is quite possibly my favorite thing that i have ever written uhhhh also writing this made me wanna cry i- why am i so l o n e l y 

TAGLISTS:

HAIKYUU!!: @therainroguefanfiction​  @shawkneecaps​

[calpalirwin]

Choices

Summary: Ashton Irwin thought he had everything he needed in life in the form of his daughter. Funny the difference a choice can make.

A/N: Fuck... I only have one chapter left and I still haven’t written more... Need to get on that...

Content: Another big sad.

Word Count: 6.7K

And away, and away we go!

Chapter 6

When I woke up that Sunday, I was aware of 3 things- 1.) that I wasn’t in my bed, 2.) that someone was next to me, and 3.) something smelled good. I opened my eyes and found Cassidy asleep on top of me. I kissed the top of her head and gently sat up, hoping not to wake her up.

She stirred slightly in her sleep, and I pulled her up so her head rested on my shoulder, cradling her in my arms like I had when she was a newborn. I held her as she slept, listening to the sounds of my mom making breakfast in the kitchen, breathing in every second of it.

“Daddy?” Cassidy whispered in my ear as she finally stirred herself awake.

“Yeah, love?” I asked, tilting my head a little to look at her small face peering into mine.

“Did you catch the bad guys?”

“Of course,” I told her. “But, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Do you have to go back?”

I shook my head, “Nope. I’m all yours today.”

“Good!” she smiled.

“Oh good, you’re both up,” my mom said, looking at us. “Breakfast is ready. And let’s get a move on, we have church.”

“Ma, I don’t go to church anymore,” I told her gently as I took Cassidy and we sat at the table. Coming from an extremely Christian family, I knew the news wouldn’t go over well.

“You haven’t been taking my granddaughter to church? Ashton!” she began to scold.

“She’s baptized, Mom. Plus, I figure there are better ways to spend my free time with her than in church,” I explained as I cut up the pancakes on Cassidy’s plate and poured syrup on them.

“Well, we’re going today. All of us.”

“Really, Mom?” I asked in that “I know you’re still my mom, but I’m 26 and you can’t order me around in my own house” tone. 

“Give me one good reason why not, Ashton,” she told me.

I set down my fork, sighing. “I’ll give you 2. 1.) It’s a half hour drive to your church and a half hour drive back, so I’d lose a whole hour, plus however long the service is, to spend with Cass. And 2.) I’m still kinda pissed at the guy.”

“What guy, Ashton? God? You’re mad at God?!”

“Little bit, yeah,” I nodded, picking up my fork to start eating.

“Ashton Fletcher! What in the world are you mad at Him for?”

I gestured around, while I swallowed the food in my mouth. “Because He gave to me with one hand and took away from me with the other.”

“Oh, He did not take Taylor away from you. Taylor made that choice all by herself. And if you’re really into judging His choices, maybe stop and consider that some of those choices involved blessing you with a healthy, happy daughter, and then dropping Nic into both of your lives.”

I held up my hands, admitting defeat. “Alright, alright, I’ll go.”

~~~

“Did you like church?” I asked Cassidy, a few hours later as I helped her into her seat for the ride back home.

“It’s long,” she told me, matter-of-fact-like, buckling herself in her booster seat.

“I know, but we’ll go to the park after lunch, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

“Can Nic come too?” Cassidy asked me as I got in the driver’s seat and started the truck.

“Do you want her to?”

She nodded her head excitedly. “Mhm, I like Nic!”

“We can ask her. But we have to respect her answer, okay? If she says no, that’s that, understand?” I explained.

“No means no,” she told me, nodding.

“Good girl,” I said, while getting my Bluetooth to call Nic.

“Oh, hey, babe,” Nic’s voice answered after the first ring. “I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

“I know,” I told her. “I’m with Cass and she had a question for you.”

“Oh? What’s your question, sweetie?”

“Park!” Cassidy shouted from her seat.

“Park?” Nic asked, confused.

“Yeah,” I explained. “I’m taking Cass to the park later and she wants you to join us.”

“She does? Or you do, Ash?”

“We both do,” I laughed. “But it was her idea. What do you say?”

“Sure,” Nic said. “I have a few things I need to finish up though.”

“That’s fine, we’re gonna get lunch first anyway. Just text me when you’re done?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll see you soon.”

Cassidy was asleep by the time we made it back to the apartment. I slung her up on my shoulder and headed inside, almost colliding with Nic. “Oh, hey!” I whispered.

“Hey,” she smiled.

“She’s gonna be out for awhile,” I explained. “But you’re more than welcome to keep me company.”

“I’d love that. Let me just put my things inside.”

“Sure, just come on by when you’re done.” I got Cassidy down in her bed and got the laundry I meant to do yesterday going. I was moving on to clean up the kitchen when Nic came through the door. “Hey, baby,” I said, shaking water from my hands as I shut off the sink.

“Hey,” she responded, walking over to kiss me.

“Everything okay?” I asked, sensing her mood seemed off.

“Eh, I start classes tomorrow, so I’ve been trying to get everything ready. Just a little stressed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

She shrugged as she made her way to sit on the couch, “I’ll be fine. Just trying to find that balance between work and school is stressful. Normally, I’d spend the weekend before school with my family to calm my nerves and destress. But, that’s a little hard,” she smiled sadly.

I sat next to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry you’re homesick. Is there anything I can do?”

“Well…” she drawled, her eyes sparkling. “You could give me that long list of reasons why you love me.”

I chuckled nervously, running my hand through my hair. “Well… I love that you accept the fact that I’m a dad with such grace. More than that, I love that you love my daughter. I love the way you interact with her like you’ve done it every day of your life,” I paused, running my hand through her hair now, trying to get my thoughts in order and slow my racing heart.

“Go on,” she coaxed.

“I love the way your nose crinkles when you laugh. I love your wildly independent streak and the way you trust me enough to let your guard down. I love the way you look when you’re sleeping next to me in one of my shirts. I love the way you look when you do a lot of things.” I winked seductively at her as I said the last sentence.

“Oh, do you?” you asked, her drawl doing that thing that drove me absolutely wild.

“I love when you talk with that voice,” I whispered.

“Anything else?” she asked, her voice soft and warm against my neck as she kissed me.

“Every little thing you do. I love it all. There isn’t a damn thing I’m not completely crazy about.”

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special, don’t ya?”

“Only the ones that matter.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re crazy about me, because I’m equally crazy about you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s hard not to be crazy for you, Ash,” she told me like it was a fact.

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re a great man with an even greater heart. You love deeply and unconditionally. You admit to your faults, which from personal experience, is not a thing many guys do. There’s this softness to all your strength that I wish you would let me see a little more, because I find it endearing.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, referring to her last sentence.

“What?”

“You wish I was softer?”

“I just mean… like you put on this front like nothing bothers you. But I know that there’s a softer side to the tough, got-it-all-together face you put on. And I wish you would let that side show a little bit more is all.”

“I thought I was pretty good at expressing how I felt with you. I’m sorry you think I’m holding back.” I was a little confused, as I had always considered myself to be a bit of an open book. She was right in that I controlled my emotions to the point that I seemed unbothered, but that didn’t necessarily mean that I didn’t show my emotions, I just kept them in check.

“No, Ash. I think you’re misunderstood. I meant… well you know how yesterday you hugged me goodbye? And you kinda let me just hold you for a bit? That’s what I meant. I didn’t mean… it was just nice to be able to provide you some comfort; to feel needed, if that makes sense.”

“Oh,” I said, remembering how good it had felt to lay my head on her shoulder. “Yeah, that was nice.”

“It was,” she agreed. “And you can do it more. If you’re scared I’ll find you less manly for it or whatever other bullshit reason, you don’t have to be. Like I said, I find it endearing that you’d trust me enough to let your own guard down.”

“My guard is down, Nic. I’ve let you into the most intimate aspects of my life which is something I haven’t done since Taylor. And I have a lot more at stake now than I did when I was seventeen. So it wasn’t something I did easily. It was something I did because I feel comfortable with you and trust you.” I wasn’t sure what she was implying or wasn’t implying and my confusion was getting me a little agitated.

“Hey,” she said softly, “Don’t get defensive. I wasn’t saying that you haven’t let your guard down. I know you have. And I love you for it. But, this is an equal partnership. You’re allowed to fall apart too.”

“Sorry,” I said, realizing that I was probably sounding a little mean. “But, it takes a lot for me to fall apart. Not to say that I don’t have bad days or moments when my emotions get the better of me. And it’s not that I didn’t like you holding me, rather than me holding you. Because I did; it was a nice change of pace. But, I’m used to being the one doing the comforting, rather than the other way around, y’know? So it just takes a lot more for me to be in that place of accepting comfort than say, Cass.”

She nodded. “Just know that I’ll catch you, okay? Because I love you and you deserve someone who will be strong when you can’t. Even if it’s only for a second.”

I nodded myself. “Okay, but right now, I am supposed to be comforting you. Just for the record.”

~~~

It didn’t take long after our conversation for me to be in the position where I was the one seeking comfort.

First came the battle with Cassidy over breakfast. Normally, on weekdays, I’d make her a bowl of cereal or oatmeal. When she refused her oatmeal options, I moved on to her options of cereal. She picked one with ease, and I grabbed both the box and a bowl. “No!” she screeched as I started pouring, “I can do it!” 

I set the box down and lifted her up and set her on the counter so she could pour her own bowl. “Sorry, love,” I apologized, forgetting in my half-asleep state that she was in that seeking independence phase. After a moment or so of no progress towards her pouring her own bowl, I asked her, “Well? Don’t you want cereal?”

“You have to dump the old cereal out so I can do it,” she told me.

I sighed, questioning the logic of her needing me to dump out the cereal already in the bowl if she was just going to redump it in herself, but did it anyway. I sighed again as she dumped the cereal into the bowl and also all over the counter. “Do you want Daddy to pour the milk for you?” I asked her, going to the fridge to grab the milk.

“No, I can do it,” was the defiant response.

“Careful,” I cautioned as I handed her the carton and watched as the milk splashed half in the bowl and half on the counter. “Easy there,” I said, lifting up the carton so it wouldn’t spill anymore.

“Oops…” she said softly.

“Accidents happen,” I said, more as a reminder to myself than to her as I set her down and handed her the bowl of cereal. “Sit at the table and eat your breakfast,” I told her. I cleaned off the counter before I quickly made my own bowl of cereal. I leaned against the counter and smiled over at Cassidy, who grinned back at me, milk dripping down her chin. “Good?” I asked, swallowing my own bite.

“Mhm,” she nodded.

It was smooth sailing while we ate our breakfast. Then came the battle of getting dressed. When Cassidy first began her crusade for independence, I started out by laying out outfits for her and letting her pick which one she wanted to wear. Now that she was approaching six, I was starting to let her pick out her clothes and get dressed by herself, giving myself time to get dressed myself. After we rinsed out our bowls, she dashed down the hall to get dressed while I followed. I kept my ears peeled for signs of struggle as I got dressed myself, before popping my head in her door. “How we do-” I started, my eyes taking in the sight of her clothes thrown across her room haphazardly. “Cassidy Marie?” I asked, my voice firm and demanding an explanation.

“I have nothing to wear,” she told me innocently.

I gestured wildly around her room. “All these clothes and you can’t find anything you want to wear?” I got a flashback of all the times my parents had fought Lauren for the same reason and groaned. Cassidy was too young to be pulling the “I have nothing to wear” card. I wasn’t ready.

“You see my problem?” she said with the sass of a teenager.

“I see a lot of clothes thrown around your room. Now pick something, please.”

“Daddy,” she protested.

“Pick something, Cassidy, or I swear you will go to daycare in your pajamas.”

“Daddy!” she started to whine.

“You have 10 minutes to pick something, get dressed, and clean this mess up,” I told her. I could hear her continue to whine as I went about finishing getting myself ready and packing our lunches. When I finished up, I went back to see how she was doing. Her clothes were still everywhere and she was still in her pajamas. “Cassidy Marie,” I half-growled as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What do you want to wear?” I asked, hoping to help speed up the process.

“I don’t know!” she hissed.

I grabbed a pair of jeans, a skirt, 2 shirts, and a dress. I laid all 3 outfits on her bed. “Pick. Now.”

She looked at them for a second. Then, she grabbed the clothes in her arms and flung them towards the floor. “I don’t like those!” Her voice was shrill as the tears started coming.

I crouched down in front of her, putting my hands on her shoulders. “Hey,” I asked, making my voice soft. “What’s wrong?” I brushed one of my hands against her forehead, checking if she felt warmer than usual. Sometimes she got extra stubborn when she wasn’t feeling good.

“I don’t like my clothes.”

“Okay. But these are the clothes you have, so you need to pick something, love.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Do you want me to pick something for you?” I asked.

She nodded.

I reached for whatever was closest, which happened to be a pair of jeans and a purple shirt with a mermaid on it. “Here, now get dressed, please.”

She stomped about as she changed, still pouting.

“Now, let’s go brush your teeth and do something with your hair,” I told her.

“What about my clothes?” she asked.

“You can clean them up before dinner. Now, c’mon.”

In the bathroom, she got up on her stool to brush her teeth while I brushed out her hair. “Ow!” she protested, as the brush snagged in her tangled mess of hair.

“Sorry, love,” I said as I gently brushed out her hair. “How do you want your hair, today?” I asked, putting a ponytail holder around my wrist for easy access. “Ponytail, bun, pigtails, or a braid?” I ran through the options.

“Braid!”

“Braid it is,” I said and set to work. It wasn’t the best braid in the world, but it got the job done. “Okay, ready to go?” I asked as she rinsed her mouth and put her toothbrush in its holder.

“Ready!” she grinned.

I dropped her off at daycare and headed for work, hoping the rest of my day would go more smoothly. No such luck. I was slammed with paperwork the moment I walked in, working through my lunch and figuring I’d have to call my parents or Lauren to pick up Cassidy and watch her so I could stay late. Fate had other plans when my cell rang, drawing me away from the mounds of paperwork. I frowned when the caller ID claimed it was the daycare calling me, as my mind started going through the possibilities. Had she gotten hurt? Was she actually sick? Praying it wasn’t serious, I answered the call. “This is Ashton.”

“Mr. Irwin? It’s Miss Nancy. Are you able to come in for a quick conference?”

I blew my breath out in a huff and ran a hand through my hair. “Uh, yeah. Is something wrong?”

“Cassidy got into a little disagreement with one of the other kids and we just want to make both parents aware and give them the rest of the day to cool off.”

I sighed, “I’ll be right there.” I hung up and sighed again. Where had I gone so wrong in my parenting that my five year old was essentially getting suspended from daycare? I quickly explained to Luke and Mike that I had to step out for a bit, but that I would be back if I could.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Luke assured me, clapping me on the back.

“Yeah, go take care of Cass,” Mike agreed. “We got it covered.”

I thanked them both for being understanding before making my way out to the truck. The whole drive to the daycare I was running through the possibilities of what Cassidy could have done to warrant my coming down there. “Daddy!” Cassidy cried as she ran over and hugged me.

“Hey, love,” I said, picking her up in my arms. Her braid that I thought I’d done okay with had come loose, the ponytail holder clinging desperately to a few strands of her hair. There was also a small bruise forming on her arm and her face was red like she’d been crying. I pulled out the ponytail holder, putting it around my wrist, and ran my hand through her hair to undo the last bit of braid that still existed. “You okay?” I asked, trying to mask my anger. Just by her appearance I could tell that she was not okay, and heaven help whoever caused my daughter harm. Whatever “little disagreement” had happened was clearly not so little.

“Mr. Irwin,” Miss Nancy greeted, warmly. “I’d like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Collins.”

I looked over at the stern-faced parents, with a little boy in front of them. “Ashton, hi,” I said, reaching out to shake their hands, again forcing myself to keep my anger in check.

“Will Mrs. Irwin be joining us?” Mrs. Collins asked Miss Nancy, completely ignoring me.

“There is no Mrs. Irwin,” I told her flatly.

“Yeah, Cassidy doesn’t have a momma!” the little boy sneered.

Cassidy’s face turned bright red and she tried to lunge from my arms. I had half a mind to let her at the boy before I realized that was probably we were having this conference in the first place. “Relax,” I coaxed quietly to her.

“Shall we?” Miss Nancy asked, motioning towards her office. The five of us followed after her, Cassidy and the little boy sticking their tongues out at each and blowing raspberries. I let the Collins’ have the 2 seats in front of the desk, choosing to stand off to the side. I set Cassidy down, resting my hands on her shoulders.

“So, what happened?” I asked, after a few moments of silence.

“Well,” Miss Nancy began. “After I talked with both children, from what I can gather is Jacob made a comment about Cassidy’s appearance that made her upset, and pulled her hair. When she used her words to express that she was upset, he then made a further comment regarding how she doesn’t have a mom. Then, Cassidy hit Jacob and the two continued to hit each other. As our policy, both Cassidy and Jacob are suspended from daycare tomorrow.”

“Understandable,” I said. Granted, I wasn’t pleased in the slightest that I was going to have to find arrangements for Cassidy to be watched tomorrow. But, I was also very proud of her for standing up for herself.

“That’s all you have to say for your daughter’s behavior towards our son?” Mrs. Collins asked me.

“My daughter’s behavior? Your kid started this mess. My daughter was merely defending herself.”

“Your daughter attacked our son!”

I laughed. “Attacked is a little strong. They’re 5. What comments did Jacob make, Miss Nancy?”

Miss Nancy shifted uncomfortably. “He… uh… he mentioned that it was apparent she only had a father because her braid was messy and his mother always makes his sister’s braid look pretty. Then he pulled at the braid. The second comment was again in regards to how Cassidy doesn’t have a mother.”

“He said my momma left because she hates me because I’m bad,” Cassidy told me, her eyes filling with tears. “So, I hit him because he made me feel bad.”

I picked her up, my heart breaking for her and my blood boiling as she sobbed into my shoulder. “You’re okay, love. Daddy’s got you,” I soothed, glowering at the parents. “So, my kid hit your kid for being a bully, but Cassidy’s the problem?”

Mr. Collins looked down at his son. “Just because Cassidy doesn’t have a mother to do her hair, that doesn’t give you the right to make fun of her, Jacob.”

I sighed. His heart was in the right place, even if he made it sound condescending as all hell.

“Yes,” Mrs. Collins nodded. “It’s not Cassidy’s fault her momma left her.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, getting angry all over again. “I’m sorry, I think I’m misunderstanding something here. If Cassidy had a mother would you be saying the same thing you are now?”

“Well, if she had a mother, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, now would we?”

My eyes narrowed. “Ma’am will all due respect, but pull your head out of your ass. 1.) It’s 2020, so single-parent households aren’t exactly an anomaly. 2.) Yes, I’m a single dad raising a daughter. Yes, it’s hard. But, at least I’m not raising a bully with a superiority complex. And 3.) I’ll ask again- if Cassidy had a mother instead of me would you dare say the same things- or better yet, if Cassidy was a boy would you be questioning my parenting skills then?”

Mrs. Collins stood there with her mouth agape. “Well… I… How dare you!”

“How dare I? How dare you! And you,” I said, turning towards Mr. Collins. “Are you gonna do or say anything? Or are you one of those dads that let’s the mom do all the work and expect to be praised when you so much as read a bedtime story?”

“Look,” he said, “We’ll deal with our son how we see fit. I trust you’ll deal with your daughter however you see fit.”

“Fair enough,” I said, the fight leaving me. “Tomorrow’s Thursday, so I’ll just keep Cassidy out the rest of the week,” I told Miss Nancy.

“That’s fine, Mr. Irwin. We’ll see Cassidy on Monday.”

I nodded and headed for the door. “Go get your lunch box, love and we’ll go home, okay?” I told Cassidy as I set her on her feet.

She looked up at me and wiped her face with her arm. “Am I in trouble?”

“We’ll talk about it at home, okay?”

She nodded and walked off to grab her lunch box and drawings from her cubby. A hand fell on my shoulder- Miss Nancy’s. “Between you and me, Ash, it’s only because of policy that Cassidy can’t be here tomorrow. I’ve had problems with Jacob bullying other kids. Cassidy’s just the first one to fight back. You’re raising a strong girl, there.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

“Bye, Cass,” Miss Nancy smiled at Cassidy as she made her way back over to me.

“Bye, Miss Nancy,” Cassidy told her, reaching for my hand.

The Collins made their way past us, their son in tow. Mr. Collins fell a step behind his wife and son, crouching down next to Cassidy. “Good for you, sweetie,” he told her winking before nodding at me, “Not that you need it, because you seem to be doing a fine job, but good luck, man.”

“Thanks,” I said, shaking his hand. “And sorry.”

“Me, too,” he laughed before going after his family who were waiting impatiently at the door.

“Am I in trouble?” Cassidy asked again, as I helped her into her seat.

“No,” I shook my head.

“But, I hit him. You said ‘Cassidy Marie, we do not hit!’” she reminded me, making her voice deep as she mimicked me.

“I did. And for the most part that’s true. But, sometimes you gotta fight back. And you’ll never be in trouble with me for defending yourself.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well…” I thought for a minute, trying to put in a way she’d understand. “Remember how you got mad and hit me at the grocery store?”

She nodded.

“That wasn’t okay. But today, you told Jacob he hurt your feelings and to stop, right?”

“Mhm…”

“And he didn’t. And you got more upset and hit him. That’s okay. Whenever someone hurts you or makes you upset and you tell them to stop, and they don’t stop, I want you to hit them as hard as you can. Does that make sense?”

“I think so…”

“It’s confusing, I know. Just make sure to always use your words first. But if someone makes you feel bad and they don’t stop, then you do whatever you need to do to make them stop. Nobody ever gets to make you feel bad. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I kissed the top of her head before making my way to the driver’s side.

“Daddy?” she asked as I started the car.

“Yes, love?”

“Does Momma hate me because I’m bad?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, breathing deep. It was one thing for the kid to bully her for not having a mom- I had been preparing myself for that day since she was born. But it was another thing for his mother to back up her shitty kid’s shittyness with more shittyness. I turned in my seat to look at her. “Cassidy Marie Irwin. You are not bad. You are the greatest. Momma doesn’t hate you, either.”

“Then why she’d leave?”

“She wasn’t ready to be a momma. Remember, love?” I knew it was a lot to expect her to remember the conversation back in my childhood bedroom when I confessed to Nic how my relationship with Taylor had really ended.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, love.”

“Can I talk to her? Maybe she’s ready to be a momma now.”

My stomach fell. Once again, I had been preparing for the day she’d ask about her mom since the day she was born. I figured she’d be older, but I realized that I’d never really have any definitive answer for Cassidy about why Taylor left because in truth, I didn’t really know myself. All I knew was that she had suffered through the pregnancy for my sake while I spent the nine months trying to convince her to change her mind. In the end, she had wanted her freedom, and I had been too busy raising a newborn to really question her decision, so I chalked it up to just that- she wanted her freedom. And after she gave me Cassidy, despite not wanting to go through a pregnancy in the first place, I was more than happy to leave it at that. “Maybe,” I told Cassidy. Maybe opened up a whole world of different outcomes that I wasn’t prepared to deal with.

~~~

Back at the house, I had Cassidy clean up her clothes while I called work. I explained to both Luke and Mike what had happened and that I was going to stay home with Cassidy until Monday, making arrangements to swing by to pick up any paperwork that wasn’t done to help them out in spite of my extended weekend. Then, I called Nic. I didn’t know if she’d answer or if she’d be free to come over, what with her new schedule, but I wanted to hear her voice, even if it was just her voicemail.

“Hey, babe. How’s work?” she answered on the second ring, her sweet voice putting me at ease for the first time all day.

“Hey, baby. I’m actually taking the rest of the week off. So I thought if you’re free you might want to come over. Maybe we could take Cassidy to a movie later or something?”

“Sure! I’m actually on my way home right now, so I’ll see you in a bit?”

“Perfect, I’ll see you soon.” I hung up and went to check on Cassidy. She was asleep in a pile of her clothes. I laughed softly, putting her in her bed. Then, I put away her clothes.

I had just turned on the TV when the front door opened and Nic stepped in. “Hey,” she greeted, sitting next to me. “You okay? You sounded weird on the phone.”

“Been a rough day,” I admitted.

“Is everything okay? It’s not like you to leave halfway through a work day and take the rest of the week off. Is Cassidy okay?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Well… yeah, we’re fine.”

“Babe… what happened?”

I sighed. “Normal stuff. She fought me over breakfast and getting dressed. Then work was just a mountain of paperwork that I didn’t make any progress with.”

“Okay. But what happened to send you home in the middle of the day?”

“Cass got in a fight with a boy at daycare. So I had to bring her home. And she’s suspended tomorrow. But tomorrow’s Thursday, so I’m just taking a long weekend.”

“So which part’s bothering you? The fight she got into at daycare? Or the fight she got into with you when you sent her to her room?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “No, she’s napping. It’s more why she got into a fight that’s bothering me. Or more, what she asked. I dunno. Either way, I’m just…” I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. I’m just what? I thought to myself.

She pulled my head to her shoulder and I let it rest there. “Well, what happened?” she asked, running her hands through my hair.

“A boy teased her about her braid, because it’s obvious that she doesn’t have a mom, because if she did, her braid wouldn’t look like shit. She told him to stop and he proceeded to tell her that not only was it obvious she didn’t have a mom, but that the reason she didn’t have a mom was because her mom hated her because she’s bad. So she punched him. And he hit back and so forth and so on.”

“Poor thing,” she sighed sadly, “But good for her!”

“That was my same reaction. Well, I had a few choice words for the boy’s mother who basically defended her little demon spawn. But yeah, I’m proud of her. I hope she kicked his little ass.”

“Me too,” Nic smiled. “So what did she ask that further bothered you? Obviously what the boy told her bothers you. But there’s more, I can tell.”

“Well she asked more about Taylor. And I explained to her that Taylor leaving had absolutely nothing to do with her. Then she asked if she could call Taylor because maybe now she’s ready to be a mom.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I mean, if she wants a relationship with Taylor, I don’t want to hold her back. But I don’t want her to be disappointed if Taylor isn’t what Cass expects or if Taylor still doesn’t want a relationship with her. Especially when she’s this young. How do you explain to a 5 year old that her mom doesn’t want her? How do you explain that to anybody?”

“How much of this is you caring about Cass and wanting to protect her and how much is this you projecting your own feelings about your biological dad?”

I let out my breath in a huff. “Fuck if I know,” I shrugged. “I like to think I’m not damaged over my biological dad leaving because I was too young to know any different, and then I had Jack so it didn’t matter. I dunno.”

“Okay… but let’s say Taylor does want a relationship with Cass. What does that mean for you?”

“I’d be more than happy if Taylor wants a relationship with Cass.”

“But…?”

I sighed. “There’s a lot of maybes and what ifs I have about it. Maybe I call Taylor. Maybe she doesn’t want a relationship with Cass and I have to deal with Cass having her heart broken. Maybe Taylor does want a relationship, and now she’s back in my life. I’m not gonna lie, there were plenty of days and nights I dreamed Taylor would show up at my doorstep and say she made a mistake and wanted to be in our lives again. But, I have you now. And if Taylor wants a relationship with Cass, then fine, but I don’t need to have a relationship with Taylor beyond a ‘mother of my child’ kind. But what if Cass gets it into her head that Momma and Daddy should be together? How do I explain to a 5 year old that there will always be a part of me that cares for Taylor and I’ll always respect her as the mother of my kid, but I don’t love her that way? That I love you that way, not her mother? There’s just a lot I thought I’d be prepared for and I’m just not. And if I just ignore what Cass asked, will she eventually forget and I won’t have to deal with it? Or, worse, will she remember when she’s older about the time she asked about calling Momma, and Daddy said ‘yeah, of course’ and never did, and she ends up resenting me for keeping her mom from her? I just… I don’t know what to do. I want to be enough for her. What if I’m not?” My eyes felt wet and I quickly wiped at them and took a breath to calm myself. “Sorry,” I choked out, wiping at my eyes some more.

She looked at me tenderly. “Babe, I’m not a parent. I don’t know what it’s like to want to fiercely protect someone from the world, or to wrestle with if you’re doing enough. So, I’m not gonna pretend like I have the answers for you. But, if you want, I’ll offer you my opinion and you can do with it what you like.”

“And what’s your opinion?”

“Well, for one I think you’re doing one hell of a job raising Cass. Don’t ever doubt that. You are an amazing father. Secondly, I think you should call Taylor and ask if she’d be willing to meet her daughter. If she says no, then ask if you can call back in a few years and ask again. That way you can at least tell Cass you tried and that her mom just isn’t ready yet. If she says yes, then go from there. One meeting and she’ll want a relationship with Cass, there’s no doubt about it. After that, it’s up to them what their relationship becomes and you can go from there.”

“You’re not worried about the possibility of Taylor being in my life again?”

“Should I be?” she raised her eyebrows.

“No,” I shook my head. “The only thing I want from Taylor is the promise that if she wants a relationship with Cass that she won’t break her heart the same way she broke mine.”

“Then I’m not worried. Admittedly when you first told me you were a dad, I was worried about your relationship with the mother. A little bit out of jealousy, but I was mostly worried about how Cass and Taylor would feel about me being in your life and in your daughter’s life. But, I trust you, babe. Just be honest with me. I’d prefer honesty, even if i might not like it, compared to lying or hiding anything. I get that if Taylor wants a relationship with Cass, it’ll be a little awkward between the two of you. And I’m fine if that confuses you. Just be honest about it. Don’t blindside me.”

I finally lifted my head off her shoulder to look at her. “You are way too easy-going about this. This doesn’t scare you? Or make you uneasy at all?”

“It does. I’m worried that if Taylor wants a relationship with Cass that she’s going to think it means a relationship with you, too. I’m worried that those old feelings will resurface for both of you. I mean, I’m in love with you, Ash, and I don’t want you to break my heart. But, that’s a risk in every relationship. Every relationship runs the risk of ending in heartbreak. I’m just choosing to bet this one doesn’t.”

“I’m betting on us, too,” I smiled, kissing her, before resting my head on her shoulder again. Her arm snaked around to rub my back in a soothing manner. I let my body relax into hers, allowing her to comfort me while my mind wrestled with the best decision for Cassidy. We sat there in silence, me laying against her, her rubbing my back, until Cassidy woke up from her nap. “Hey, love, feeling better?” I asked, sitting upright.

She shrugged as she crawled into my lap.

“You know I love you, right?” I wrapped my arms around her.

She nodded. Then, “Daddy, you should only do ponytails.”

I chuckled softly. “I’m sorry, love. You don’t feel left out not having a momma, do you?”

She shook her head. “I like having a daddy. But all the other kids have mommas, too. And they’re nice and pretty. Why can’t Nic be my momma? She’s nice and pretty.”

I choked a little. “Uh… love… it doesn’t work like that, love. You have a momma, already.”

“But, I want a real momma.”

“Do you want a momma so she’ll braid your hair?” Nic asked.

“Yeah. All the girls have pretty braids because they have mommas.”

“Well, you don’t need a momma for pretty braids.”

“I don’t?”

“No,” Nic told her. “Mommas are just like daddies. Daddies can make just as pretty braids as mommas. They just need more practice because their hair is shorter.”

“Oh!” Cassidy said, like the whole world made sense again. Then, she leaned up to Nic and whispered loudly, “Can you teach Daddy how to braid my hair?”

Nic laughed and hugged Nora, “Of course!”

Over the next hour, Nic taught me several different types of braids, while I slowly started to admit that if I wanted to raise my daughter to have the confidence to make her own choices, then I had to support them, regardless of my own inhibitions. If Cassidy wanted to try and have a relationship with Taylor, then I wasn’t going to be the one standing in the way.

~~~

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[lydia-bell]

4200 words of headcanon for Strand and Charlie, because I am not a reasonable human being

Inspired by @coffeesuperhero's great post about Strand’s timeline and raising Charlie, I decided to post this. I wrote it as background for a huge AU I’ve been working on where The Black Tapes was cancelled after Season 2 because after Coralee’s return and Strand learning of all the ways he’d been manipulated, he decided he needed to concentrate on putting his life back together and just couldn’t do the show anymore. I have no idea if that story will ever see the light of day, but I’ve developed a LOT of headcanon in the process of kinda sorta writing it, so I might as well share some of it.  :)

Strand would have guessed that he'd feel relief when the podcast was over. And he did, in the sense that he would no longer be having details of his personal life put on the Internet for all to hear. He was dreading what would happen when this episode was done being edited and uploaded. He could imagine all of those paranormal charlatans getting a kick out of it; Richard Strand is so closed off to anything he doesn't understand, so arrogant to those who believe, that he drove his own wife away!

Fortunately, he'd had a great deal of practice not caring about what those people thought of him. Though he did cringe to imagine Tannis Braun making a great show of being caring and concerned. Oh, he would mean it in his way, but—well, that was his brand, wasn't it? People who are trying to sell something can easily cultivate an air of gentleness and empathy. After all, they never have to tell any hard truths.

But Tannis Braun didn't matter. None of them mattered. The only ones who mattered were Thomas Warren and the rest of his cult, who had sent him a spy as a wife and then taken her away. Who had been monitoring him his entire adult life, manipulating him into a marriage and jobs to do it.

He hadn’t intended to hurt Alex’s feelings, but yes, he was relieved to be finished with the podcast. But he had to admit that doing it had provided him with a certain structure, and, if he was very honest with himself, some forward momentum that he might have had trouble sustaining on his own. They’d learned more in the past two years than he had in the previous 15, and there was a reason for that.

He supposed he should have said something to her while she was here. Well. Perhaps they’d meet up for lunch sometime, as she’d mentioned. In his experience, these promises were typically hollow, but it was possible.

He took off his jacket and tie and cleared away their teacups. He considered having another cup but decided on a drink instead. After pouring himself a generous whiskey, he turned off the lights on the main floor and went down to the basement. He was going to have to provide all of the organization and momentum for his inquiries now, and he should get to it. And since Alex wasn't going to be coming by anymore, he had a few more items to put up on the wall.

Like the cases Coralee had brought to his attention after leading him to the Empress Hotel. The information on Thomas Warren's background, his family history tracing back to eastern Ohio. The history of the Howland family, also from eastern Ohio. The next thing he needed to do was talk to Cheryl, and he was grateful that he wouldn't have an audience for that. As it was, he was relying on Cheryl extending him some residual goodwill out of guilt for having once believed he might have killed Coralee, but that wouldn't last. He'd put out feelers with some of those genealogy services, inquiring into both sides of his own family and into Warren's, and the results were...well. He was glad he wouldn't have Alex jumping to conclusions about how just because their families founded towns 20 miles apart in the early 19th century, this must be the key to everything.

That willingness to follow what you claimed were meaningless coincidences is what got you here today, part of his brain argued, but he ignored it. He could be open to possibilities without being willing to accept anything and everything that seemed to offer an explanation.

He was also glad Alex wouldn't be around to air his eventual talk with Charlie.

He knew he needed to call her. But what could he say? "I didn't drive your mother away after all"? But in a real way, he had. "I'm sorry I wasted time with some stupid idea that I could find her with psychic abilities instead of doing something useful and taking care of you?" That might help. He had apologized, after he'd given up looking, after Charlie had left, but it was too late then; how could it matter now, 18 years later? But maybe. He could say it again, if she needed it. At least maybe she could understand a little better what had driven him.

He didn't know what time zone she was in right now, so no, he wouldn't call. Or text, even—he didn't want to wake her in the middle of the night; he didn't want to do anything to upset her at all. Email, then. She'd allowed June to give him the address and even answered as long as he didn't use it too often. He went back upstairs and opened up his laptop.

Charlie,

I didn't want to call or text because I don't know what time it is where you are, but I need to talk to you. I have news

.... what could he say? "I have news about your mother?" "about Coralee?" "Coralee's alive."

The podcast was going to air soon; there was no need to keep it a secret, even if his communications were being monitored (and Coralee was right, it was possible). The straightforward way, then. He deleted the last three words and went on:

I saw Coralee today.

She came to me. She said it was because I was in danger and she was trying to keep me safe. I don't know if you've ever listened to the Black Tapes, but this organization we've been investigating, this cult... she's part of it, or she was. She was part of it when she met me. Over time, she came to realize that they were doing things she couldn't support. So when we fought that day on the drive to Big Sur, when she walked off and we couldn't find each other, she took it as an opportunity to get away from them. To disappear. She thought she would be able to come back when she found the evidence she needed to stop them, but the more time passed, the harder it was to come back.

I know this all seems insane, and there's no particular reason you should believe me, except that you have to know I've never lied to you. Whatever my other failings as a parent were, I never lied to you, not once. And I'm not asking you for anything, but I thought you should know. She's alive, she left by her own choice, and she wanted to come back but she never felt that she could.

And she told me to tell you that she loved you. For what it's worth, I think that's true too.

Call me any time, if you'd like. I know this is a lot to take in. Believe me, I know. But at least we can stop wondering. That has to be worth something.

He struggled with signing it, as he always had. "Love," she didn't want. "Sincerely," though true, was something you'd say to a stranger. What was it that he really wanted to say to her? So many things, but this would do.

I hope you're well.

Take care,

Richard

He didn't give himself even a second to hesitate before hitting "Send" and pushing the laptop away. It was the right thing. Charlie deserved to know; she had every right to know. He was sure she'd have questions, and he doubted he'd have any satisfactory answers, but he was willing to try.

He refilled his whiskey. He wished he had someone to talk to about all this. He thought for a moment about calling Alex, but he'd been the one who ended that association. He'd just taken her show away from her. He could hardly expect to lean on her after that.

Maybe he just needed to take his mind off of everything for a while. He could watch a movie, read a book...nothing sounded satisfying, though. He thought about calling the Jacobsons, but no—they could find out from Charlie. He wasn't proud of himself--they were Coralee's parents, and they had a right to know their daughter was alive—but after all these years, when they'd never accepted him even before Coralee's disappearance, never treated him with more than a distant cordiality (and often with less), never considered him part of their family, he'd finally had enough. Their daughter was alive, they didn't need to look for her anymore, and with that, his last tie to them was gone. You'd have thought that finding her alive would make them more connected, not less, but missing her, wondering about her, had been the only thing they'd had in common. They still didn't have her, any of them. So there was nothing between them. They could find out from Charlie.

But that still left him with nothing to do. The research materials for his book were still stacked on his desk, but he could no more imagine going back to that book than he could becoming a monk. He needed to speak with Jenna about pushing the deadline back.

He also had to decide if he was going to stay in Seattle. The house still wasn't anywhere near ready to be sold, but given that he'd finished his lecturing position (it seemed only fair to the students, even if he'd never take a job there again now that he knew who was behind it) and ended the podcast, there didn't seem to be much reason to stay.

Except that it was still his father's house, and his father had worked at the university for two decades before he died, and he still had so many questions about his father's role in all of the cult nonsense that had taken over his life. He didn't like the coincidence of his family having connections to the Pacific Northwest and Alex happening, independently of that, to include him in her podcast, but as far as he could tell it had in fact been a coincidence. She'd explained how she'd ended up calling him, and they both agreed that they couldn't see any way for Warren or anyone else to have manipulated events toward that end. She and Nic had brainstormed professions one day, and Alex had been the one to bring up "ghost hunter" because she'd seen a show on TV a few nights before. And from there, it was logical that his name would come up, as he was roundly despised in the charlatan community.

No, it really had been a coincidence. He didn't actually like coincidences any more than anyone else; he was just able to accept, unlike most people, that in a world with so many possibilities, low-probability events will happen sometimes.

Of course, he'd thought meeting Coralee was a coincidence, or at least, happy chance. But he was damned if he was going to let this cult nonsense turn him into the kind of person who ascribed patterns and meanings and intent to everything he couldn't explain. That way lay madness and religion.

Still, if he meant to start his life over on his own terms, it might be best to leave this place he'd never really chosen. But not yet. There were more answers to be found here first. About his father, and about Thomas Warren.

____________________________________________________________

Charlie called him at 7 the next morning. She traveled a lot, so she always remembered to take time zones into account, but she clearly wasn't willing to wait one more second than necessary for her answers.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, It's Charlie."

There was a brief pause as neither one of them knew quite how to start before Charlie burst out, "Just.... what the hell?"

He sighed. "It's a lot to take in, I know."

"But she's really alive?"

"Yes."

"And she just...left?"

"It was more complicated than that, but, yes. Ultimately, she made the decision to remain missing."

"I don't... why? Why would she do that?" she sounded so young that he could almost imagine putting his arms around her and letting her cry into his shirt like she did when she was small. When he was still her dad. Before everything fell apart.

But he couldn't do that, so he gave her the only comfort he had to offer. He told her the truth, all of it, everything Coralee had told him, everything he had told Alex. When he finished, and she spoke again, it was with tears choking her voice. "So all of it, the marriage, her being my mom, it was all a lie."

"I don't know. I'm still trying to understand how much was the cult, and Coralee doing what she thought was her duty, and how much she genuinely felt." He almost said "I really do think she loved you" but stopped himself, because what kind of loving parent walks away from a child? But Marie had. She'd been ill, and she might well have made the right choice, but it was still a choice. And for that to have happened to Charlie not once, but twice, was so unfair that his chest burned with it. And if he was honest, it had really been three. He'd told himself that leaving had been Charlie's decision, and it had, but she'd been fifteen. He should have tried harder. He should have insisted. He should have shown her that she was wrong, that she did have a father. Instead, he'd proven her right.

"I don't know how much I really give a shit," Charlie said. She sounded drained.

"That's understandable," he agreed.

"So, what happens now? She left again? Is she coming back? Is she—are you still married?"

"Legally, yes, as far as I know we are. But I don't think she's coming back."

"Because she has to fight this cult. The one that thinks you have some kind of special gene that they need. Do I have it? I mean, whatever it is, are they going to be coming after me too? Or Aunt Cheryl?"

"Coralee didn't think so. She had some idea that it might be sex-linked in some way, but regardless, they don't seem to be after you."

"Great." She took a deep breath and sighed. "Well, I guess the good news is, this can't make the family reunions any more awkward."

He chuckled, despite everything. "How have you been?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"There's been a lot happening."

"Yeah, no shit. So is all this going to be on the podcast?"

"Yes. There's one more episode, and then it's done. I decided not to continue."

"Good. I hated that, having all those people in our business."

"I did, too. But without the podcast, I don't know if I ever would have heard from Coralee."

"I guess." She paused. "Look, I need to go. I've got a conference call in about five minutes. Maybe... I don't know. I'll try calling back later on, or emailing, or something."

"I understand," he said, because what else could he say?

____________________________________________________________

To his surprise—he hadn't let himself get his hopes up—she did email him a few days later. As with all of her emails to him, it bore no salutation. Perhaps she didn't know how to address him, or maybe it was just her style.

So I said I'd email, so here I am, but I'm not sure what else I really have to say. Thanks, I guess, for telling me personally. Finding out on Facebook or whatever would have been...well, I would have hated it. And I guess you're right, that knowing is better than not knowing.

If you're hoping that I'll stop being angry with you now that I know what really happened...I guess? It wasn't your fault, I get that. But I've been thinking about what might have been different if I had known then. And I think I still would have left. Because, I don't know, I didn't feel like we were really a family.

I don't have a lot of clear memories of back when it was just you and me. But when you met Coralee, I guess I expected us to be one of those happy TV families, you know? We'd play Monopoly and go to Disney World and whatever, I don't know. Go camping, make S'mores? Stuff families do together.

And you seemed so happy with her, but it felt like, once she was there, you kind of had permission to check out. To spend more time at work, less time talking with me or asking about what I was doing or playing silly games or any of it. You weren't bad, you made sure I had everything I needed and you met with my teachers and you did everything that was your duty, and I know that's more than a lot of people get. And I know it was hard to raise me on your own and maybe you'd just...had enough. But I felt more like your ward than your daughter. Like you loved me but in this abstract way, the way people love their country or something.

So I went to live with grandma and granddad, and at least they were happy to have me around, and having me around seemed to help them even though they were grieving too, you know? And I didn't feel that way with you. And after a while I just stayed. That was my home, I enrolled in school, and you hadn't exactly moved heaven and earth to get me back. I found out from Alex that granddad told you I'd asked to be emancipated. I didn't. I guess he figured he needed to keep me away from you because you were maybe a murderer (and definitely an atheist). But that was a shitty way to do it, and I've told him that.

Still...I listened to the last episode, and you told Alex that when Coralee disappeared, it threatened to take away everything that was good in your life. Like I didn't exist! Or just didn't really matter to your life, except that you'd gotten some woman pregnant and felt like you had to take responsibility for your mistake.

I don't know why I'm saying all this. I guess it's just that for all this time, I've let my anger over Coralee's disappearance be how I avoided thinking about the stuff I was unhappy about before then. And none of that's changed. But yeah, I can let go of being angry with you about what happened with her, about the fights and the days after she disappeared and all of that. I just don't know what that means about what comes next. If anything. I don't think you're a bad person. I really don't. I just wish things had been different when I was a kid. But I'm not 15 years old any more either, you know? So maybe I can work on it. Or we can go on the way we are. I'm fine. I'm happy. I have a good life.

Anyway. That's where I'm at. Just so you know, I'm going to be in Europe for most of the next three weeks, so there's an eight-hour time difference. Also it's a work trip, so I'm not sure how much time I'll have. I'm not bailing, just letting you know why I might not be all that communicative.

Charlie

He'd never thought that he could ever again cry as hard as he had when Coralee disappeared—or when she returned. He'd been wrong.

____________________________________________________________

Charlie,

I appreciate your honesty in your last email. I know it can't have been easy to write that. And I know that I have had my failings as a father. It's not an excuse, but I hope you'll allow me to explain some of why that is.

You mentioned that it must have been difficult raising you on my own. And it was, but not because I didn't love you. I just didn't know what I was doing, and I had very little guidance. My mother was dead, I still hated my father for not being there when she died, and certainly my friends had no more more idea than I had. Men weren't expected to be single parents then—I suppose it's unusual even now—so I never really felt comfortable with the mothers watching their children at the playground and that sort of thing. I didn't belong there. Marie's parents—well, let's just say they never softened toward you even after you were born. So it was just the two of us. And when all you needed were the basics of life, I could make that work. But as you got older and I realized I was going to have to not just keep you fed and dressed but navigate discipline, making friends, and basically raising a full-fledged human being, I didn't have confidence in my ability to do all that successfully. I loved my mother, and she was good to us, so I tried to follow her example. But so much of what she did was influenced by the times—and by my father, and he was someone I didn't want to emulate.

When I met Coralee, I was relieved because even though her own upbringing was obviously less than ideal, she was warm and patient and kind and seemed to know exactly the right thing to do or say when you had a problem. I think that even if I had felt less strongly about her, I might have considered marrying her just because you deserved to have a parent like that. And you adored her. It wasn't long before it felt like you were more her child than mine. She understood you better, she was more affectionate...and you were thriving. She was the one you turned to, more often than not, when you needed something or had something exciting to share.

When I write it out like that, it sounds as if I pulled away from you because I was jealous of your relationship with Coralee, but that wasn't it at all. I was thrilled for you. I think that I just didn't feel quite so necessary anymore. And nurturing isn't something that comes naturally to me. I took care of my mother when she was ill, and I always felt awkward and out of place and like I was doing something wrong. That ability to understand how someone is feeling, and to know what they need—I tried, I really did. And I tried with you too, but I got it wrong so often. So when you had a mother who could give you that, I reverted to doing the parts of parenting that I felt more capable of: I supported you, I helped you with school, I set rules. I though it was a partnership that worked. You seemed happy, in general.

I can't plead complete ignorance, though. I knew that you wanted more of my time (at least, until you didn't want any of it, which I thought was a normal teenage phase but perhaps not). I don't have a good excuse. I got caught up in my work. It was fascinating and I was committed to it, and in academia, devoting all your time to your work was how you showed you were committed to it. It still is. I'm sorry that I let my career get in the way of giving you what you needed. As I said, I don't have an excuse. It was wrong, and it wasn't fair to you.

I do want to clear one thing up. What I said to Alex about losing everything good in my life—I wasn't just talking about Coralee. I was talking about our family. I was afraid that without her, there would be no center. I didn't see how I could hold the two of us together. And part of it, yes, is that I felt I didn't really know you well enough anymore. I think to some extent that's a fairly common phenomenon among teenagers and parents, but certainly I contributed to it as well. It was never that you didn't matter to me, Charlie. That could never be true. I sit here trying to imagine it, and it's incomprehensible. You're my daughter. You will always matter. I'm sorry that I didn't try harder to keep you with me after Coralee left. I told myself that I was doing what you wanted, that you were happier with your grandparents. I thought maybe it was just as well that I was alone, because I'd driven away the most important people in my life. But if I let you think that I didn't want you to stay, I can only apologize, because nothing could be further from the truth. No matter what Lawrence told me, I should have tried harder to show you that.

I hope you have a safe trip. Call or email me if you'd like, but if it doesn't work out, I'll understand.

Yours, Richard

And in this way, they took the first tentative steps toward having a relationship again. Nothing could change the past 20 years, but they didn't have to be bound by them for the next 20, and remembering that allowed them to move forward.

[i-see-you-mendes]

To the People Behind the Blogs Part II

As the first day of 2019 comes to a close, it seems absolutely insane to look back at what I’ve accomplished, what I’ve rid myself of, what I have moved forward from, and all I have helped to grow. At this point last year I had been using Tumblr for less than 2 months, and now I can say It’s been over a year and I completely forget my anniversary in the midst of trying to achieve my dreams and remembering to try again everyday to love myself. I don’t think any of you, all of you actually, will understand the hand you have played in my journey. I know that this is the internet, that there is a real life out there, (and I am so very blessed with mine) but sometimes {more often than you’d think} it is the smallest things that shape us 

@pinkanddepressed when I type an @ symbol your blog name pops up first. I think that’s pretty representative of real life. Of how you always, without fail, catch me right before I hit the ground hard. Of how you never let me forget that I am loved for no other reason besides the fact that I am this crazy mess of a person, and that if people are good enough, if they are right for you, they will see that. You still make me feel beautiful every single day. I can never tell you how unreasonably much I love you, and I will never be able to thank you the way I want, but look out- because one day our timing will be right, and from then who knows 

@captainharoldsstyles I do not like peas. They are on a list of very short foods I will not eat, and yet you are the other pea in my very small pod. You see my messy, my terrible awful messy, and my happy, my goofy silly, annoying side. You have been my rock more than you will ever know. I don’t think you understand the strength you lend to those around you, some days I wonder if you’ll ever know. I promise I will never stop reminding you of your strength, and your real-life beauty, and how I will be here if all else fails, I will be here. Thank you, for always loving me, and for staying

@brittanyzelazno to the person who understands me on another level, one that transcended likes and dislikes and wearing socks to bed, and straight to the core, I am so glad we found each other. I am so glad I have found a bit of magic that gets to exist for me even on the gloomiest of days. I love every single cat picture you send me, every book spine love letter, every picture perfect we’ll get there some day. I am eternally grateful for having someone who knows what the getting from here to there is like, and who still feels like hope. 2019 will be a new bloom for us, here’s hoping for a kitten.

@siennarossi my beautiful, beautiful Nics. The person who makes me want to reach out and pick up life and cradle it, and remind myself that I am not finished yet, that there is still softness left, that even the most wonderful people don’t even have it all figured out (there’s no fun in that anyway). The person who reminds me forgiveness is a powerful weapon, use it on yourself. That love may not be just around the corner, but maybe it’s around the corner and down the stairs, and out the door, and three blocks down and you just have to get to it. Who also reminds me that there is no shame in never making it around the corner on some days. Thank you for being a guiding light.

@shawnmend-yes a little ray of sunshine, I’m sorry that if on most occasions I keep you folded in my back pocket just for myself. I do not think you understand the extent to which my heart has grown accustom to yours. Pretty words don’t sum it up, this isn’t poetry this is me reminding you that i would swallow the oceans between us just to look at the way your fairy lights were reflecting perfectly on your wall and you just needed to show someone. I would swim for days to bake a tart, and take a walk with a very good boy, and plot my first real revenge plan on a brother who is too grumpy all the time. I cannot write you a story, or an epic, or a prose, ours is already writing itself and it is the most beautiful thing to stand back and watch 

@englishmuffins74 you make me so happy. You make me feel things that are sometimes hard to remember to feel on my own. You make me laugh. You make me feel like there is a little piece of home out there, thousands of miles away. You believe in me, and I think that is the most important gift you can ever give to someone. For that, and for everything you do for me every single day without even knowing I love you, and I thank you.  Kocham cię. 

@softboyshawn for quite literally being a safe haven for me. For letting me find in you, comfort and warmth, and a place where I am loved and accepted and never questioned. For letting me grow and alter and change in front of you, and for always pulling me back to my roots. For sharing your dreams, and listening to mine. For offering an escape from everything that hurts me and showing me instead everything that loves me, that cherishes me, that is rooting for me tucked away in some cozy cabin that’s not so far from reality after all. You are incredible thank you for allowing me to find shelter in you 

To @smallerinfinities, and @mendeshoney who always offer up some love. Who show me what it’s like to create something from your fingertips and heal, to mend people, to kindle hope in the form of words that reach you when nothing else can. Thank you incredibly much for supporting me, and for being people who I trust and value, and aspire to be, for letting me use your words to remind myself about love and life and all the wonderful mess that has to happen in between, Thank you for always making me feel like this girl has the power to write her own story- one with an ending she chose. I love you both.

To @justanothershawngirl, @someoneunimportantxx, @mendesftoakley, @sweetheathens and @theclairebitchproject for every time that I felt alone reminding me that I wasn’t. For being there, which sometimes is the hardest and yet the most important. For listening, and caring, and helping me smile and reminding me of the pure good that can come from within a human soul. You mean so much to me. 

I know there are about 6 more blogs I should mention by name, but for tonight you’ll have to excuse me because I have snot running down my face and my keyboard is drowning. I am crying, but I am happy. And I love you all, always. Now I'm going to bed

💕 💕 B 

[babywarg]

ironstrange multipart fic: Settling for a Miracle [6/?]

Chapter Summary: Stephen stops drawing power from the Dark Dimension a second time, out of concern for a friend with something to hide. Things are said over the phone.

Chapter Notes: Still takes place during Avengers: Age of Ultron. Man, a lot of things happen during that show!

Originally on AO3.

“...Stephen?”

When Stephen drifted back to attention, he found Christine’s hand on his.

Christine was seated beside him at a table in the hospital cafeteria, while Christine’s on-call neurologist, Nic West, sat across from the two of them, and was staring at him expectantly.

“Were you even listening, Stephen?” Nic demanded. “I mean, you know, it’s no big deal, it’s just a human life we’re talking about here.”

“Of course he was listening,” Christine retorted, doing her best to sound like she believed it.

Stephen gripped Christine’s hand momentarily, before releasing it. She withdrew her hand, satisfied with the acknowledgement.

“Okay. Sorry, Nic.” He passed a hand over his brow. “Truth is, I didn’t get enough sleep last night. It’s messing with my concentration.”

Nic didn’t seem impressed, or convinced. “You’re going into surgery like that?”

“Nic,” Christine again. Her voice was firmer this time. Nic rolled her eyes at her.

(Stephen understood. “Tired” was never an excuse among his colleagues. It was a mild gripe, at best, but never a way to get out of things.)

“I’ve gone into surgery in worse states, my patients still made it out of the operating theatre minus their tumors.” It was a bad, bad argument to make, but Stephen was in knee-jerk defense mode and was in no mood to keep his mouth in check. “Look...I’ll take a look at his records and get back to you. I just can’t be pressured into giving an opinion right now.”

“Yeah, guess that’s the best we can hope for.” Nic glared at Stephen. “It’s funny, though - back in the day, you gave your opinion whether or not it was solicited.” He stood, sighing loudly. “Next time, I’m consulting with someone who gives a shit.”

Nic left without another word. Stephen let him go, feeling like he deserved to be walked out on.

He stood to leave. Christine stood and kept pace with him.

“You do give a shit,” she said quietly to him. “We both know this. So what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” He was aware that he sounded as tired as he felt.

“If it’s a problem with a patient, you can tell me.”

“It’s not.”

“Or with the super-secret Stark project?”

Stephen mirthlessly chuckled. “I’m fine, Christine. I just haven’t had enough sleep.”

Christine stopped him from walking by laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Stephen, I hope I know you well enough for you to let me say this,” she said in the same low, careful voice, “but something’s been different about you these past few months. You’ve changed for the better, for the most part. I think you’ve met somebody.”

Stephen scoffed, “I think I’d know if that were the case...”

“But have you?”

Stephen held his tongue.

“Met” isn’t quite the right word for it, I’m afraid, Christine. “Thrown together” feels more accurate.

By fate or by something else, I still can’t tell.

Christine sighed, took her hand off his shoulder. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me. I just want you to know...if this person ever gives you something to lose sleep over, you can talk to me.”

She sounded so sincere. Of course she did. Christine never faked affection.

“I can always talk to you, Christine,” he said to her with a smile. “Thank you.”

He was about to say more, but his cell phone rang. He took a look at the display.

Tony.

“Gotta take this,” he said apologetically.

“Go for it.” Christine punched him lightly in the arm. “Make sure to tell them they’re answerable to me.”

She left Stephen’s side to check up on some of her patients recovering in the wards nearby.

Stephen accepted the call.

“Hi, I’m returning a call from Dr. Stephen Strange, genius neurosurgeon and future hottest piano bar player in New York?”

“Very funny.” Tony sounded fine: a fact for which Stephen was genuinely thankful. “Sorry about that, Tony. I think I butt-dialed you at around 2 AM this morning. Fell asleep with my phone on my bed and rolled over on it by accident.”

“Is that all? Good. I was afraid you were partying too hard without me, got wasted, fell into a gutter somewhere and needed someone to drag you out.”

Also funny. They’d mutually agreed that they were done with their share of hard partying. They were seasoned professionals; there were more productive ways to get their adrenaline fix.

“Actually, it’s a good thing you called,” Tony continued before Stephen could speak. “I wanted to tell you I’ll be heading back to New York soon, but I may not be coming back to the apartment. Something came up. I’ll be staying in the Avengers Tower until it’s done.”

Stephen had to admit to himself he was mildly disappointed, but he decided not to let on. “Not a problem. I have my hands full here with new patients, too. I guess our research will have to be stalled a bit longer?”

“Yeah...I think that’s going to have to take a backseat. What I’ve got on my hands now - much, much more important.”

He recognized that confidence - it was the same as the one Tony employed when speaking to him about his med-tech projects.

Whatever this new project was, Tony was fired up over it. It must really be huge.

And, Stephen guessed: Tony wasn’t up to discussing the dream with him. In that case, he wasn’t in a position to push.

Thanks for robbing me of sleep for nothing, douchebag, he thought fondly. Keep this up, and I'm telling Christine on you.

“Wish I could say you’re welcome to visit,” Tony continued, “but I can’t promise I’ll be able to entertain you. This thing is probably going to take up all of my waking hours.”

Christine passed Stephen by, on her way to another ward. As she caught his eye, she pointed to the back of her wrist, as if pointing to a wristwatch.

Stephen nodded at her and waved distractedly to show he understood.

“But I’ll definitely, definitely want to see you when I’m done. In a few days. I hope you’ll free up your schedule.”

“Sure thing,” he said, still looking after Christine to make sure he hadn’t missed any more non-verbal cues. “Let me know when you’re available, and take care of yourself. Lots of water, no skipping meals. Love you.”

As soon as the last two words left his lips, his hand shot up to cover them.

His eyes went wide.

His face started to slowly, thoroughly grow hot and red.

“What?” the voice on the other end of the line was tickled pink. “Say again? I missed that last part.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He’d hissed the words out. He was blushing. He was painfully aware of it. He hid his face from people passing by even if he didn’t know them.

There was a loud, hearty laugh on the other end of the line.

“Okay, then, guess I’ll just drink the water and not skip the meals.” Tony’s voice held a happy lilt. “Love you, too. Asshat.”

Any hyperventilation that was starting in Stephen was arrested by the casual tone with which those words were spoken.

He replied with a grateful chuckle.

Then he ended the call, to spare both of them any further awkwardness.

Stephen wondered if, on the other end of the line, Tony was blushing, just like he was.

He rather liked thinking about that. He’d seen Tony blush, after all. Under more considerate lighting.

He took a moment to compose himself after the call. Then he went off to prep for the upcoming surgery. There would be time to bask in this game-changing moment later.

It was amazing, how a few minutes on the phone with Tony could turn his whole day around.

He’d been feeling light-headed from lack of sleep earlier. Now, after that one call, he was wide awake and ready for anything.

***

“So you carry this over to here,” Stephen droned, “and when you’re done, you - Peter, are you listening?”

The boy’s mind was clearly far away. Stephen had brought it back to earth with those simple words.

“Huh?” Peter’s hand had been propping up his chin. He brought down that hand guiltily. “Oh...sorry, Dr. Strange. Yeah, I was listening. I swear.”

The irony did not escape Stephen; he’d been too distracted to listen to Nic West earlier in the day. Peter being similarly listless now must be some sort of karmic payback.

“In that case, please show me how to balance this equation, per what I just said.”

Peter made a show of knitting his brows in concentration. Approximately 24 seconds of pretense later, he wrote down the correct answer on the practice sheet.

But the thing was, Stephen hadn’t even taught him how to do the equation correctly yet.

In short, Peter didn’t really need a tutor.

Stephen put down his pen.

“Peter,” he said in a low, serious voice, which he hoped did not sound threatening, “I want you to tell me what’s really going on.”

Peter Parker stared at his brand-new science tutor with alarm and trepidation. Like a deer in headlights.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, doc,” he said softly. He folded his arms over his chest protectively - a move that, unexpectedly, reminded Stephen very much of Tony. “Did - did I do it wrong? Maybe we can go through it again? I’m sorry, I drifted off a bit back there. I know you’re trying your best, but science is just - “

“Is someone hurting you?”

Peter’s motor mouth stopped abruptly, and Stephen made a sincere effort to sound gentler.

“Maybe someone at your school? A bully, or an authority figure, someone you trust...”

“No,” Peter quickly answered. “Why - why would you think someone was hurting me? Do I look - do I come across as someone who was...hurting?”

“Not exactly,” was Stephen’s straightforward answer. “If anything, you look...like you’re in better shape. And more confident. Like whatever had been hurting you before, had stopped hurting you all of a sudden. But something’s bothering you, and I’d like to understand.”

As Peter scrambled for an answer, Stephen took stock of what was right in front of him:

Peter was always a gangly boy, initially fated to grow lanky and thin, like someone Stephen knew (he’d gone through his own high school years teased for having a “giraffe neck,” among other hurtful things).

But this current Peter seemed...different. Bulkier.

Stephen always did his best to stay up to date on the newest medical technologies. And, as far as he knew, a child didn’t change from a thin frame to a well-muscled one nearly overnight. Not even with Stark tech.

Maybe Peter had been secretly going to the gym? Taking vitamin supplements, protein shakes?

Or...worse?

It would make sense if he had a health problem: that would mean Peter came to Stephen simply because he needed a doctor. An expert who would be able to tell him if he was taking drugs that weren’t good for him.

It made him feel a bit sad. He’d accused Tony once upon a time of wanting to get close to him just because he wanted a personal physician. Tony had shot him down.

Now here was a young man who was, by all appearances, doing exactly that.

Stephen brushed the disappointment aside. He was not inclined to refuse help, if he could give it. He was going to help Peter however he could.

“Pain’s an old friend, Peter,” he assured the boy. “I can tell you’re in pain. I just need to understand what kind of pain it is and how you got it. You can trust me.”

Upon hearing this, Peter clammed up, quite visibly. Stephen hoped that meant he had gotten to the heart of the matter.

“I...” He wanted to talk. Stephen could tell that he did. He wanted to trust Stephen, very badly.

But in the end, he chose not to.

“...I have to go, Dr. Strange. It’s late. May’s gonna worry.” He gathered his books, notebooks and pens in a clear hurry, stuffed them back into the backpack he’d brought them in. “I’m really sorry. I can’t...maybe next time.”

He all but fled Stephen’s apartment.

As he heard the door close, Stephen sighed and leaned back in his chair.

Kids were never his forte. He wondered if perhaps Tony, with his more easygoing air, would have gotten farther with Peter...

Whatever it was that was bothering the boy, it seemed serious. And urgent.

Stephen could only see this one way: if he could do something about it, and he didn’t, he was at fault.

He had to do something.

At the very least, he had to find out what was wrong.

***

So, late that night, when he was sure most everyone else in the immediate vicinity was asleep, he projected his astral form into the Parkers’ apartment.

(It was the second time in a week that he’d had to end the dark ritual to perform a standard spell. Stephen knew the occasion merited it, but he sincerely hoped it wasn’t becoming a habit.)

He’d never been invited into the Parkers’ apartment, and it felt like an intrusion - a necessary one, but an intrusion nonetheless.

The place was...cozy. Cozier than his current residence, certainly. Stephen had always hired designers for his previous homes, but he couldn’t exactly afford one now even if he wanted one...and looking at other people’s apartments was a surefire way to remind himself that he couldn’t DIY his own apartment’s interior worth shit.

His first objective was to check on May. She was peacefully sleeping in her bed. Not that it mattered if she was sleeping or not, because he would remain invisible to her, unless 1) she was psychically sensitive, 2) she was specially trained to detect spiritual anomalies, or 3) Stephen wanted her to see him.

Stephen noticed the framed photo of May and a man on her nightstand. Perhaps her departed husband?

He decided not to think too much about it. Satisfied that May wasn’t going to pose a problem, he moved on to Peter’s bedroom.

There was no one there. The window was open. A light breeze blew through the thin curtain. Had Peter snuck out?

It was past midnight, and an empty bedroom that belonged to a teenager would normally be cause for worry.

But Stephen decided to treat it as an opportunity. He looked around for clues that might lead him to understand what was going on.

On the walls were pretty standard, down-to-earth stuff - vision boards, dream colleges, dream travel destinations, band posters, post-it “notes to self” on a pinup calendar - and in one corner was a janky old-school desktop computer with a CRT monitor.

It didn’t seem like a store-bought model - in fact, it seemed highly customized, made up of very well-used and not-quite-rust-free parts.

Peter built his own computer. Stephen wondered if Tony would be interested to know that.

One of the “notes to self” on his calendar said “Apr 25 - first session with Dr. Strange” and beneath it, in tinier, barely legible scrawl, was: “he’s awesome. if anyone can help, he can. DON’T CHICKEN OUT.”

That wasn’t very helpful. It just confirmed his observation that Peter was hiding something.

As he was thinking, he heard a scratching sound from outside.

It sounded...like something big was making its way along the exterior wall, toward the window.

A window that was seven stories off the ground.

Stephen scowled, stepped back into the shadows on impulse. He knew he couldn’t be seen, but he also knew there was no harm in taking extra precaution, in case the intruder happened to be psychic.

From the shadows, he watched as a human being crawled into the window.

CRAWLED.

Stephen was morbidly fascinated. It reminded him of a horror movie he’d seen once - where a long-haired ghost crawled out of a well, and out of the television screen.

But this wasn’t a ghost. This was a human - a young person - who crawled on hands and knees into the window, up the wall and across the ceiling - then flipped and landed neatly on his feet as if he weighed nothing.

Like a skilled gymnast.

Or an insect.

If this was a thug or a robber, he wasn’t dressed like a typical one. The getup looked like a costume of sorts, with black goggles over the red cloth that covered his entire face. (Could he even see with those?)

He was also carrying a backpack.

The same backpack Peter had carried into Stephen’s apartment earlier.

There wasn’t much Stephen could do as an astral projection. He could move light objects and make himself visible - but that was it.

It occurred to him to spook the intruder off the premises, but he decided to wait and see what he was going to do first.

The intruder, obviously completely unaware that he wasn’t alone in the room, set down his backpack, and took off his mask.

It was Peter.

He didn’t even seem out of breath. Stephen imagined that making one’s way up seven stories and across a ceiling would take a lot out of a person, even a young person like Peter - but the boy showed no sign of tiredness or distress.

It was as if he’d just stepped out, bought something from the store, and come back indoors. No big.

Still wearing his baggy, multi-colored costume, Peter unloaded the contents of the backpack. Most of it were vials of a shimmery, milky liquid that Stephen couldn’t identify on sight.

But Stephen’s first instinct, as a doctor, was to think it was something recreational and not quite legal. It was, after all, snuck into a young person’s bedroom in the dead of night, while his guardian was fast asleep.

Oh, Peter...

But to his relief, Peter showed no signs of ingesting the liquid, or taking it into his body any other way. He had a makeshift device of some sort hidden in a dresser drawer. Peter carefully installed one vial into that device, then just as carefully fitted the device around one of his wrists.

It didn’t look to Stephen like the device had a way of injecting the liquid into Peter’s bloodstream. It looked completely external.

Peter took a deep breath.

“Here goes,” he said softly to himself.

He lifted his arm, palm up, and pointed the device toward a blank spot in his vision board wall.

He bent his wrist backwards and pressed down on a button on his palm with his middle and ring fingers.

(Stephen noticed with some amusement that this gesture was similar to one commonly used by Masters of the Mystic Arts for spellcasting. He doubted Peter knew that, though. It was simply the easiest way to firmly press down on a button on one’s palm.)

A stream of white liquid shot out from the device on Peter’s wrist.

It landed on the wall and formed -

- a web?

Stephen didn’t know how else to describe it. The liquid scattered against the wallpaper and solidified into an intricate pattern that looked very much like a spiderweb.

Impressive.

Peter let out a joyous whoop.

“Oh my God,” Peter whispered breathlessly. “Oh my God, it works! It works, I did it, I -- “

He clamped his hands over his mouth. He jumped up and down in place and soon, around his room, careful not to make too much noise as he celebrated.

Stephen still wasn’t sure what was happening. But he was sure of one thing: Peter definitely didn’t need help with “science and stuff.”

Peter dropped onto his bed, still giddy. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling he had just crawled on, breathing hard as the excitement wound down.

Stephen then understood what kind of pain Peter was suffering from:

It was the pain of having to keep a mind-blowing secret to himself.

Peter wasn’t in trouble - not yet, at any rate. He was just dying to tell someone about his newfound powers, but was still a little overwhelmed by them.

Perhaps he was afraid of the repercussions of telling someone - like how his and his aunt’s life would change, how his friends would see him, how his schoolwork might be affected...

How he could be seen as a freak. Something to be feared.

Peter shouldn’t be hurried. That much was clear to Stephen. The boy had to decide for himself whom to tell and when.

But there was one thing Stephen could do to help that along...

He waved his hand once, and a post-it note detached itself from Peter’s wall calendar.

It was the one that said “first session with Dr. Strange.”

Peter jumped up out of bed as soon as the note peeled off. He caught it before it hit the ground.

Stephen’s eyebrow rose. The boy’s senses and reflexes were amped up. Part of his newfound powers, no doubt...

For a long time, Peter stared at the note on his hand thoughtfully.

Stephen had already dropped his hint and learned enough: it was the right time to make his exit.

Peter’s bedroom faded from view. Stephen returned to his tired body and his shaking hands, and willed himself to rest.

***

He would hear about it on the morning news a couple of days later: the top floors of the Avengers Tower suffered major damage from a terror attack that occurred late the previous evening.

Manhattan residents were assured, however, that the terrorists had fled, the city was safe, and that the Avengers were on the case.

Commentators on Stephen’s news feed said it was likely not a simple terror attack. Insiders reported that Tony Stark’s Iron Legion and a deadly "programming bug" were somehow involved, stoking paranoia on the airwaves.

But “terrorists” was all the news would say.

“Need to be out of town again for a few days,” Tony supplied over the phone, sounding snippy and rushed, and even less willing to give out hard facts than journalists were.

“I know the work, Tony,” Stephen answered. “But I hope you also know I can’t help worrying about you.”

“I don’t need you worrying about me. Everything’s fine.”

It was an unexpectedly hostile response. Stephen didn’t answer.

He heard Tony draw in a long breath. He imagined Tony hanging his head apologetically.

“Look. I’m sorry. It’s just...to be honest, things are bad. And I don’t know how they got this bad. It’s pissing me off, but I can’t afford to let it get to me right now.”

“You can’t even tell me how bad things really are, can you.” It was an accusation, and it probably came across to Tony as such.

“Why would I do that?” was the cold response. “If you knew, what exactly can you do about it?”

Oh.

That stung.

Instead of dragging the conversation out into what was likely going to be their first full-blown fight, Stephen decided to end the call as civilly as he could. Though gruff, Tony still sounded somewhat apologetic as he said goodbye.

A few days ago, they had professed their love for each other over the phone.

And then, before they could say the words to each other in person, terrible things happened and suddenly the distance between them became very real.

Tony was off to another life-threatening mission. Another one that Stephen was not welcome to be part of.

And couldn’t be part of, even if he was.

It was amazing, how a few minutes on the phone with Tony could turn Stephen’s whole day on its head.

He had never before felt that way about anyone.

And a part of him was terrified.

[honeybearloco]

“...Good To Me?” (M)

Requested by an anon. For you dirty little sugar daddy loving sluts women out there. JKJKJKJKJK It’s short, I’m sorry. The do is not my specialty. (!) Warning: Smut| Oral my dudes

Nafla X Female Reader Request: The reader and Nafla are actual in a loving relationship, but people think he’s y/n sugar daddy. He gives her the world and she pays him back.

You wanted to be the one to spoil him. He was always the one spoiling you. You wanted to change up the roles a bit.

You met Nicholas at a club one night. This club wasn’t a club you were used to. You were a spoiled brat. Which meant you got when you got what you wanted, when you wanted. You were a Daddy’s girl. Daddy got you everything your little heart desired because he knew if you didn’t get what you wanted, you’d go crazy.

Your Mom tried to break your Dad from buying you everything, but he didn’t listen. You were his little girl. You were bougie. Everything you had, had to be at least a couple of hundred thousands. You began to work for your money when you turned eighteen.

Your Dad ran a huge international wine company. He had business in Japan, the states, China, Canada, England, and Spain. You attended business school and became Operations Section Chief of her Dad’s company. No one of course knew your Dad was, your Dad. Your great grandfather started the business but it didn’t get as big as it is today until your grandfather and Dad stepped in many years later.

But you working hard didn’t mean you still weren’t spoiled. You had men dropping to their knees to talk to you. You wouldn’t give them the time a day.

One of your co workers invited you out to this club. You didn’t know the name or anything about it. You dressed in very expensive, Gold Sleeveless Sequin Bodycon Mini Dress with matching high heels. Your outfit costed almost half of the club. Your handbag costed basically the whole club. On your shoulder you were carrying a Hermes Birkin Bag by Ginza Tanaka. (A/N: The price of that handbag is so damn crazy!)

You were disappointed. You being bougie, the alcohol was cheap as well. The most expensive one was some cheap red wine. It didn’t taste good at all. You found yourself sitting at the bar, by yourself gulping down the cheap wine.

“You okay?” You heard a voice next to you.

You looked to your left to see a man in sweats and a hoodie.

“I’m fine.” You answered coldly.

“Why are you being so cold? I asked how you were. Don’t be a b-”

“Bitch? Are you gonna call me a bitch? My handbag costs for than you make on annually! Call me a bitch. I dare ya.”

He only chuckled and threw a hand up toward the bartender. The bartender took that as a sign and came back with a beer. He handed it to the guy.

You rolled your eyes and took another sip of the cheap wine.

“Sorry for almost calling you a bitch. I don’t even know you like that. You’re probably a sweet girl. Let’s start over. I’m Nafla, but you can call me Nicholas.”

He put out his hand for you to shake. You stared at it a for a bit before shaking it.

“Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”

“You won’t believe how many I’ve heard that.”

“I’m not a creep. I promise.”

“Well, that’s what the creeps say.”

The two of you shared a laughed.

“You seem disgusted with your choice of alcohol.” He noticed.

“Oh, I am, I’m used to expensive wines. But it appears I have come in the wrong club.”

“I see. I promise next time I’ll take you to a fancier place.”

“Not dressed like that you won’t be.”

The two of you shared another laugh.

“I’ll dress any way you’d like me to.” He said a bit suggestively.

You blushed a little bit.

“In what way did you mean that?” You asked.

“I’ll dress in anything you want me to. A tux, sweats, no clothes at all.”

Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

“You’re cute when you’re blushing. You must be innocent.” He added moving closer to you.

“Shut up.” You whined playfully.

“I hope to get to know you more, princess.”

From that moment on, the two of you traded numbers. And he kept his promise. He took you out to the fancy place he could fine. He even dressed in a tux. You thought he looked adorable in his tux.

The two of you got closer and closer. There were times the two of you almost kissed but it was either your friends or his who came in the way of it. Everyone just thought the two of you were friends. But both of you knew how much the two of you were loved with each other. Finally you admitted your feelings and he returned them.  

It’s been around a year since the two of you started dating. There was nothing Nicholas loved better than spoiling you. Even if you didn’t need it or even want it. He just loved to spoil you. Sometimes he liked to spoil you in front of your friends.

Which caused all of your friends to think he was your sugar daddy. You hated the term. Nicholas wasn’t even that much older than you. Nicholas knew your hatred for the word, he didn’t mind the term.

This week, you were having a hard time. You had a presentation you had to present your Dad who was the CEO, and the Chairman, who of course was your Mother. It’s a family ran business. You’ve been in meetings and has had many presentations with either just your Dad or just your Mom. Never them together in all your years working there.

You were nervous. Not only were both of your parents going to be there, but the rest of the board would be there too. Some of them never took you serious because they’ve known you since you were a little baby.

It would have been easier if it was just your presentation, but it wasn’t. It was yours and the another employee.

Jung Yoo Sung, he wasn’t your favorite. The two of you had a rocky relationship. He was out for your position, and you. News runs around the business really fast. So the news of his schoolboy crush on you began to spread, you heard about it rather fast.

Luckily your parents didn’t hear about it. You and Yoo Sung had to work together on a new flavor for a wine. He was a good employee, but he liked to get off topic a lot and because of it, you didn’t have your presentation ready at all.

Nicholas knew you were stressed over the whole presentation thing. It wasn’t too often he’d visit you at work, but today he really wanted to. Your lunch break as coming up so he bought you some food from that new burger place down the street from your job. On his way over, he came across a new jewelry place. He saw earrings he knew you would love. 18K White Gold Canadian Diamond Drop Earrings.

He walked to the reception desk.

“May I help you?”

“I’m here to see-”

“Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, how did you know that?” He asked.

“I’m a friend of hers. She talks about you a lot. She’s in her office. You’ve been here before or do you need her office number?”

“No. I’m good. I remember. Thank you.”

He made his way to your office. He knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

He opened the door and closed it behind him.

“Nicholas? What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Are you really asking? I missed you. And I got so food for ya.”

“Why are you so good to me?”

“I try my hardest.”

He walked over to your desk and set the bag down on the desk.

“You look really stress. Need a massage?”

“I love you so much.”

He smiled. “I love you too.”

He walked behind your office chair and began to gave you a massage.

“Does that feel at least a bit better?”

“Yes. Please don’t stop.” You moaned accidentally.

He chuckled and continued to massage your shoulders.

“Okay, okay. That’s enough. Now where are those burgers?”

“Right here.” He reached into the bag and handed you one of the two. “Eat up.”

He pulled up a chair to your desk.

“Babe, let’s watch something on Netflix.” He said.

“Alright.”

You went to the Netflix website on your computer and put on a romantic movie. The two of you finished your lunch.

About into a forty minutes into the movie there was a sex scene. You were about to turn it off but Nicholas stopped you.

“What are you doing?” You questioned.

“I want to watch this scene.”

“I’m still in the building. We can’t watch stuff like that here. What if someone see this?”

“Then I’ll take the blame for it. I did want to watch a movie.”

He continued to play the movie. You weren’t a huge fan of scenes like this. To you it was basically all the same. You didn’t want to watch it anymore.

You felt Nicholas’ lips on your neck.

“Babe~” You whined.

“Come on, let’s do something fun. Something a little better than a fake scene on a movie.” He whispered in your ear before kissing down your neck.

“Nic-ahh.” You moaned quietly.

“Come on, princess. I need you right now. You’re wearing the shortest skirt you have. Are you trying to impress me? Or this skirt for someone else?” He gripped your thigh. You gasped in shock, but you stayed in silent.

“Answer me, princess. Is this skirt for me or is it for that co worker of yours? What’s his name, Yoo Sung?” He asked again while his hand slowly went up your thigh.

“It’s for you. Only you, Nic-”

He slapped your thigh.

“What’s my name?”

“Daddy.” You answered.

He smirked against your neck. His lips finally made their way to your collarbone leaving marks.

You pushed him off of you. You got on your knees in front of him.

“You’re always so good to me, Daddy. I think it’s time I repay you.”

You quickly unbuttoned jeans and pulled down jeans and boxers just a bit for his hardened length to pop out.

“You’re already hard?”

“What? The scene was hot.” He answered.

You rolled your eyes. “But I bet you’ll enjoy this a bit more.”

You grabbed his cock, it twitched. He moaned quietly. You licked up his length before taking him deep in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and bobbing your head. Your tongue licked stripes up him as you found a good and steady pace. His hands went into your hair.

“You’re doing amazing.”

You continued your bobbing and used your hand to satisfy the parts your mouth couldn’t. Nicholas’ breath became rapid.

“Go faster.” He said, his voice hoarse.

And faster you went. He tugged on her hair slightly.

“Fuck…” He said suddenly, as he let go in your mouth.

You quickly swallowed up of his cum, making sure you didn’t miss a drop.

“Open your mouth. Did you swallow all of it?”

You nodded.

“Then show Daddy.”

You opened your mouth to show him. He inspected your mouth making sure all of it had disappeared. He didn’t see a single drop.

“Good girl. Daddy has to reward you.”

“Later Daddy. My lunch break will be over soon.”