#i have an eye doctor appointment at nine am this is fiNE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sarahowritesostucky · 9 months

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📖"First Taste"

Rated: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Kemp x reader

Tags: doctor/patient, medical kink, body image issues, oral sex (f!rec), fingering, dub-con, pussy worship, (inference of background cannibalism (b/c it's Fresh), but nothing to do with the plot or reader)

Summary: Steve Kemp sees a new patient for a consult about a rather ... intimate procedure.

Steve gets into the office at his usual time, coffee cup in hand as he catches the elevator. He sees Cassie jogging in from across the lobby in her colorful scrubs and holds the door for her. They greet one another amicably and ask how each other’s weekend was. She tells him about her new kickboxing class, he tells her about the pâté he made on Saturday.

“Liver?” She says dubiously as the two of them enter the office. She’s wrinkling her nose and laughing at him. “You’re some kind of Chef, Kemp.”

“I prefer the term gourmand. By the way is that Barbie on your—”

“Yep.” She goes behind the nurse’s station and hands him a clipboard. “Your morning appointments. Dr. Hickory went into early labor at like four am, so you’ve got some of hers.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise as he takes the clipboard and gives it a look. “What is she, thirty-eight weeks?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Should be fine,” he mumbles. He frowns at one of the patient slots on his clipboard. “I see I have an FGM consult at eleven,” he says, eyes flicking peevishly back up to Cassie.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she says, checking on her computer. “Yeah, Ms. Moreau. Be nice, she’s new.”

Steve narrows his eyes at the info. “You know I’ve tried to get away from doing those anymore,” he says, giving Cassie a look. Everybody in the office knows how he has a problem with the fact that Hickory’s turned their office into such a chop shop. Steve would’ve thought a woman would know better. Female solidarity, progressiveness, autonomy, kumbaya, whatever.

Cassie rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah yeah. Dr. Brendan the activist.”

“Hey, I told you, it’s—”

“‘Pathologizing the pussy’,” she recites with finger quotes. “We know.”

“Mm,” Steve grunts, assumes the ‘we’ is in reference to all the nurses at the practice. Those girls share a level of groupthink that is frankly eerie.

Steve works in plastics. He’s a vain man himself, so he knows he shouldn’t have gotten involved in a career field like this if he wasn’t prepared to be surrounded by other people’s body insecurities 24/7. It’s just… not how he pictured it.

Good thing he’s got this new side business venture going. He’s hopeful about it. Just last month he’d been able to send in the final payment for his student loans. Pretty soon he’ll have enough to get a house. He's entertaining the idea of a custom build, still scouting properties south of Portland. “I’ll see you later,” he tells Cassie. “Send my nine o’clock to exam three when they get here.”

“You got it.”

You arrive early for your appointment, plunking yourself down in the waiting room chair after the long walk from the train. You feel unpleasantly sticky underneath the cotton of your sundress. The office is cool, but it’d been hot outside. The near-boiling summer temperatures made you work up a sweat as you made your way across the city for this appointment.

Now, sitting in the chair, you can feel the sweat that’s formed on your body. It’s at your hairline, between your breasts and at the creases of your inner thighs. You worry about it, because soon you’ll be baring yourself to the doctor and you had specifically showered right before leaving for your apartment, used a pH balanced feminine hygiene product, just in case you were somehow scent blind to your own body. You didn’t want to be sweaty and gross when Dr. Hickory was going to be looking down there.

“Miss?” The receptionist smiles at you, holding out a clipboard from over the desk. “You need to fill this out, please.”

You stand, hurrying to go get it and the pen that she offers you as well. “Sorry,” you murmur. They’d told you that you would need to be there fifteen minutes early for paperwork. You return to your chair, feeling like such a hot sweaty mess, whereas the receptionist lady is so pretty and poised. You tuck some of your blonde hair back behind your ears and cross your ankles in an attempt to be even a fraction as put together as she is, you powder blue espadrilles knocking together as you prop the clipboard on your lap.

The office’s air conditioning is making the perspiration cool to your skin now, clammy and unpleasant. You read over the intake forms and fill them out. The second page has a line drawing of a naked woman’s body, front and back. It asks you to circle the areas you’re there to address. You bite your lip and circle the drawing’s pelvis. The anxiety you tend to get creeps back up on you, but you take a deep breath and let it out. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Dr. Hickory does this all the time. It’s her speciality. She will have seen it all, and you’ll be nothing new to her.

The door to the waiting room opens and a younger woman in hot pink scrubs peeks her head through. “Ms. Moreau?” she says brightly. She has café au lait skin, wild curly hair, and a genuine smile that helps put you at ease.

“That’s me.” You stand up, the only person in the waiting room. “Obviously,” you chuckle, grabbing your purse and following after her.

“I’m Cassie,” she introduces herself. “Hop on up here and let’s get your weight.” You step on the scale backwards and open your mouth to tell her that you don’t need to know the number, but Cassie cuts you off with a wry look. “Don’t worry,” she says, thumbing at her own chest. “I know how it is, girl.”

You flush and nod, glad that you don’t have to veer into that explanation. She records your weight on her clipboard and tells you to follow her to an exam room. Inside, she hands you a painfully thin paper gown and tells you that you can change. You fidget uncomfortably. “Um, actually I wore a dress so that she could just…” you make a gesture, “ah, dive right in. Is it alright if I just stay like this?”

Cassie nods and doesn’t try to foist the paper gown on you any further. “Have a seat,” she tells you. “The doctor is just finishing up with another patient.”

“Okay,” you whisper, getting up onto the exam table. After Cassie leaves, you look around the room, taking everything in. You’ve never been in a plastic surgeon’s office before. Everything looks just like any other doctor’s office would, except that instead of posters talking about BMI and heart disease, there are advertisements for laser therapies and Botox.

You spot a tray of breast implants over on a counter and can’t stop yourself from going over to look. You pick one up and poke at it, feeling it wobble in your hand. You giggle a little, before bringing it up to hold in front of your chest. Your own breasts haven’t ever bothered you much. They’re small-ish but have a good shape. One of your exes had complimented them excessively (though other parts had received thinly-veiled criticism). You pick up another of the implants, this one bigger and more viscous, and hold the two shapes up to each of your breasts, trying to imagine what it would look like…

“I wouldn’t recommend either of those for you,” a male voice cuts in, and you nearly jump out of your skin.

You spin around. You’re still holding the implants near your chest, startled as you blink at the man who’s entered the room. He’s wearing a doctor’s coat over scrubs, and his nametag says Brendan Kemp, MD. The bigger of the two implants rolls out of your lax hand, landing with a comical ‘plop’ right by your shoe. “Oh jeez. I’m sorry!” you say in a hurry, feeling like a child who’s gotten caught doing something bad. You rush to bend down and collect the implant from the floor. “Sorry I was just—”

The man steps closer with a smirk on his lips and gleaming eyes. He seems amused at you. “Everybody wants to grab the boobies,” he says, gently taking the implants out of your hands and setting them back onto the tray on the counter. “You’re fine, Ms. Moreau.”

You blink at him, stuck in place. He knows your name. “Oh,” you say, voice hushed, still embarrassed. This doctor is very good looking. He has a commanding presence, too. Something about his eyes draws you in, makes you want to be the object of his attention. He smiles warmly at you, perfect teeth flashing for a second, and you huff at yourself and try to laugh off your foolishness. “Yeah,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “Guess I was just curious.”

“Hey, at least you weren’t juggling them. I walked in on that, once.” He winks. “What’s your accent? French Canadian?”

“Ah, y-yeah. I’m from—” You watch as he barely listens to your answer, his eyes sliding down to the level of your chest and staying there, assessing. You flush under the scrutiny. But you don’t feel like you can move away without being rudely dismissive. You squirm, uncomfortable. “Um, I’m not—”

“I’m Dr. Kemp,” he murmurs offhandedly, still staring at your chest. You see his hands twitch, as if he’s thinking of touching, but stopping himself. “A woman with your frame wouldn’t look right with ones that big,” he says, meaning the implants you’d just been holding.

You feel the need to defend your own taste. “Oh I know that. I wasn’t—”

“These,” he says softly, taking one of the more modestly sized implants from the tray and holding it up in front of you to see. You’re caught looking more at the sight of his strong, elegant fingers than you are the implant. “These would suit you better. Though I honestly wouldn’t recommend augmentation for you.” His eyes finally return to your face. “Your breasts are lovely.”

You feel your lips part in shock. “Um…” you feel an odd combination of flattery and confusion. Is it normal for a doctor to talk to a patient like this? Maybe it’s different with plastic surgeons, you think. They are paid to focus on their patients’ looks, after all. Comments on what is and isn’t aesthetically pleasing must be par for the course, here. “Thank you?”

But then there’s his gaze, the way he stares at you. It feels like he’s not just looking at your body for his job, but also looking for himself, as well. There’s too much interest there to be purely professional. Your breath catches when you feel your nipples starting to tighten beneath your dress, and sure enough, when you glance down they’re very visible through the fabric. Shit. You see Kemp’s eyes look back down.

“Sorry,” you say in a rush, turning away from his assessing gaze. You should’ve worn a bra, you chide yourself. You try to take a deep, stabilizing breath while you have your back to him. “I’m here for… for something else.” You look down at your pebbled nipples, which aren’t softening as much as you’d like, and you sigh in defeat. No doubt Dr. Kemp has seen plenty of nipples in his day. You need to just get over it. You turn around and climb back up to sit on the exam table, the paper crinkling under your butt as you settle. “I’m just waiting for Doctor Hickory,” you explain. “For a consult. They said she’s with another patient.”

Dr. Kemp sighs and holds up his clipboard. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. I’ll be seeing you today.”

“What?” You sit up straighter, alarmed. “But…” You’d specifically sought out a woman doctor for this. The idea of a man looking critically at you, there, is mortifying. “But, but Dr. Hickory—”

“Is having a baby,” Kemp says. “She went into preterm labor this morning. But we hear everything’s going well.” He smiles at you, as if this is good news. “She’ll be out on maternity leave for at least six months.”

“...Six months,” you repeat weakly. You hadn’t even known she was pregnant. They hadn’t said a thing to you when you made the appointment. You’d been counting on her being your doctor. And now this guy, this Dr. Kemp, was stepping in? You swallow nervously, uncomfortable with a man (let alone a very, very handsome man) being your doctor. Not for this. “Um, well I…”

Dr. Kemp is already looking over your chart on his clipboard. He’s going to see what you circled, you realize, mortified. You watch helplessly as he reads all of your private details. “Dr. Kemp…” you say meekly,

“You're here for a consult for…” he reads, eyes scanning further down the page. “Oh. You’re the Labiaplasty.”

You flush bright red at the word coming from his perfect mouth. You squirm uncomfortably. “Um, well… yes.”

“Don’t worry,” he tells you, placing a hand on your knee as if in comfort. He pulls it away before you can process it. “I’m more than familiar with the procedure. I trained down in L.A.” He says this like it’s supposed to explain something, and he winks at you again. It’s… upsetting.

You swallow thickly. “The thing is, I’d been hoping for a female doctor.”

Kemp’s eyes fly to your face as he realizes how uncomfortable you are. “Oh, Honey. I see.” You blush and he gives you a tender look. “You’re shy? That’s understandable.”

“Thank you, I—”

“But I’m sorry to tell you, Sweetheart, there aren’t any other women doctors in our practice.”

“Oh.” Your heart sinks. Getting this consult appointment had taken months, and you’d wanted to go to a place where you knew they were very good, very experienced. This place had been recommended as the best. “I see.”

Dr. Kemp looks pityingly at you. “Did you want to reschedule your appointment?” he asks gently. “Dr. Hickory won’t be taking new patients until after her leave, but I can have the receptionist take a look at next year’s calendar.”

You look at him with wide eyes, disappointed. “Next… next year?”

He makes an apologetic face. “Yeah, sorry.”

Sighing, you try to put on a brave face. You’re an adult, you tell yourself. Buck the fuck up. You’ve put up with male gynos before, after all. None of them ever looked like Dr. Kemp, but you shouldn’t hold the man’s good looks against him. He’s just here to do his job, to help you. “It’s okay,” you say, trying to approximate a friendly smile. “It’s fine. You can… you can be my doctor.”

Dr. Kemp’s eyes flash in satisfaction, but there’s something about it that’s more than just professional. “Good girl,” he says, and he says it all chipper and like it’s a normal thing to say to a patient, like it isn’t supposed to make your panties feel a little bit damp (and honestly, the sweetheart’s and the honey’s and the your breasts are lovely’s has probably contributed to the situation in your panties, too). “So,” Kemp says, sitting down onto the physician’s stool and rolling over. “Why don’t you tell me what makes you want this procedure.”

He’s giving you his full attention. He’s not even holding the clipboard anymore, and you find that it’s nearly impossible to meet his gaze for long. You look down at your lap instead, at your clasped hands against the white fabric of your sundress as you tell him, “Um, well I guess I just don’t, ah, don’t really like how I look… down there.” You nearly whisper the last words, ashamed.

“What don’t you like about it?” he asks softly.

“It just doesn’t look right,” you say, echoing the things your boyfriend had told you, things that you couldn’t help but to come to see as true. “It’s too much. Too big. It looks like…” you can’t even bring yourself to say the words that he’d used. “It’s just not pretty,” you whisper, cheeks burning in shame. “I want it to be prettier. Like other girls.”

“Other girls,” he repeats. “What other girls are we talking about?”

You scoff quietly and frown at your lap. “Like… you know. Like what you see in, in—”

“Porn?” Kemp says, voice tight. When you look up you’re struck by his darkening expression. He looks pissed off. “Let me guess,” he says, jaw working. “Boyfriend?”

You gape at him. “Ahm… no. Ex-boyfriend,” you murmur. Dr. Kemp looks very displeased, and you shrink back into yourself. “Is it… isn’t this like, a common procedure?” you ask meekly, wary of the man’s expression. “I looked at the website. There were lots of before and after pictures.” When you don’t get a response, you prod, “Doctor?”

“Steve,” he says, his expression lightening up somewhat. “You can call me Steve.”

You glance at his name tag that says Brendan Kemp, MD. “But—”

He scoots forward and puts his hands on your knees, rubbing over them. It pushes the hem of your dress up by the barest degree, but you ignore it. He’s looking you closely in the eyes. He looks sweet, and kind. And because of how handsome he is, how sure of himself too, it’s intimidating as hell. “Why don’t I have a look first, hm?” he says. “Give you my professional opinion, before you go deciding what needs fixing.”

You gulp and manage a tiny nod. “O-okay.” This is the part you’ve dreaded. Dr. Kemp (Steve, he’d told you to call him, but that just makes this whole experience feel more uncomfortable, more personal) scrutinizing your most private place.

He pulls out the stirrups from the end of the table and instructs you to put your legs up. “Take your shoes and underwear off and get comfy,” he says, smiling nicely at you as he says it, as if “comfy” is something you could possibly be while doing this.

He scoots away on his rolling stool to go over to the room’s counter and don latex gloves, giving you an illusion of privacy as you untie the laces of your shoes and slip them off your feet. They land on the floor with a muted ‘clunk’, and you slide your panties down your legs and tuck them under your lower back. They have a little wet spot on them that you don’t want Dr. Kemp to see. You slide down the table and put your feet into the stirrups, getting into the familiar, yet never-not-humiliating, position. You feel impossibly exposed, the cool air hitting between your legs and making you want to close them. As a useless, last-ditch effort, you straighten out the fabric of your dress so that it covers you to your knees, serving as a sort of barrier between you and him. “...Ready,” you say quietly, when it seems that he’s not going to return without your say-so.

He sits on the stool and rolls up close between your legs. You start trembling a little and you shut your eyes to try and calm down. “...Hey,” Kemp says, getting your attention. When you open your eyes again you see him standing over you, looking at your face instead of between your legs. “Honey,” he says gently. “You seem really nervous.”

You wince. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He looks kindly at you. “I just wanted to double check. You didn’t indicate any history of sexual assault on your intake form.”

You blanch. “Oh! N-no I— nothing like that.”

“Okay,” he says gently, patting your knee again. “Just wanted to make sure.”

You’re struck by how sweet that is of him, and you try to relax to show him you’re grateful for his care. “It’s okay, it’s fine,” you tell him as he sits back down on the stool. “This just… sucks, you know?”

“Mm.” You gasp as his gloved hands appear on your ankles and give an indicative tug. “Scoot down closer to the end of the table, Sweetheart.”

Heat floods you as you do as you’re told, putting your ass right to the edge of the table like he wants. It’s so humiliating. You want to cover your face with your hands, only refraining by gripping the edges of the padded table instead.

“Shh. Good girl,” he praises you, and you feel your belly clench at the words. Below you, he chuckles and self consciousness floods you as you think of what he must be seeing. You’re suddenly, horribly curious if you’re at all wet. Good God, you hope not. But your panties had been damp, that one little wet spot on the crotch… You tense again as Kemp’s hands appear on the inside edges of your knees, pushing them apart. “Open up for me now.”

You realize you’d been closing your legs together somewhat. “S-sorry,” you whisper.

He rubs your inner thigh—close to the knee but still shocking. “It’s okay. I know this is hard. I can tell you’re a woman who doesn’t spread her legs for many men.”

Your lips part as your mind reels, offended and horrified that he’d say that. Nevermind that it’s true, or that it sounds like he’s praising you, like he’s just calling you a ‘good girl’ in a different way. You seal your lips shut to keep yourself from scolding him.

The next thing you feel is him leaning closer. You swear you can feel his breath down there, but surely he wouldn’t be getting so close. You grit your teeth and try not to let your mind run away with itself. “So,” you say to try and make conversation, to try and prove to him and yourself that you’re a mature woman who can handle this. “So y-you can see. See what I mean.”

“Mm, still looking,” he says thoughtfully. You inhale sharply when he touches you, but you quickly slam your eyes shut and try to take calming breaths. You knew going into this that you’d need to be examined. He drags his fingers over your mons and down the puffy outer lips of your pussy. It’s extra sensitive to you because you’d shaved yourself completely bare before this appointment. Silly, maybe, but you’ve always thought that hair down there was unsightly, gross, and you didn’t want Dr. Hickory to have to deal with it.

Not that she’s dealing with you at all, now.

You bite your lip as you feel him exploring you slowly, with the barest of touches. He’s touching you in a way that feels more like a lover than a doctor. His thumbs gently dip into the crease of your outer lips and pull them apart, baring everything between. “Look at that,” he whispers, and you nearly cry out in mortification. You must whimper or something, because Dr. Kemp pauses and checks, “Still okay?”

You nod, eyes squeezed shut tightly. “Fine,” you say breathily. Deep breaths. He does this all the time. It’s no big deal to him. Just take deep— “Oh!”

He’s stroking the hood of your clit with the pad of a finger, just the barest, gliding touch. It’s slippery with something, and you feel halfway sick as you have to wonder if it’s a medical lubricant he’s somehow fetched, or your own arousal that he’s gathered up and is using to explore you. No, you think, it couldn’t be. He wouldn’t…

“You have a gorgeous pussy,” he breathes from between your legs.

“I… ex-excuse me?” you stutter. This time you can feel it when you clench and slick comes out of you. Dr. Kemp groans as if he’s seen it happen, and you feel your face flame. “I’m sorry,” you apologize, humiliated that you’re getting wet from this. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh sh sh,” he hushes you, one of his gloved hands smoothing over your inner thigh, this time much further up. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your body’s just reacting naturally to being stimulated.” His gentle explanation does absolutely nothing to help with your situation, and you feel your belly tighten again in arousal. You whimper helplessly, somehow wanting him to comfort you. And he does. “Honey,” he breathes, going back to tracing the hood of your clit. His fingers move down, following the line of your inner lips, spreading them out and gliding over the thickest parts of them. Shame curls in your gut as you remember the words you ex had used:

“Fucking luscious,”

You blink at the ceiling tiles, shocked. Those had most certainly not been the words he’d used. “Um,” you start to say, but he interrupts you in a firm tone,

“Baby, listen to me, okay?” You’re frozen, unable to respond so he takes your silence for compliance. Between your legs, his fingers trace up and down the wet folds of your cunt. There’s no interpreting it any other way now—he’s caressing you. “This?” he says, whispering the words what feels like only inches from your skin. “This is your labia minora.”

You exhale shakily. “I—I know that.”

“Mm.” He keeps tracing them, keeps gliding around in the wetness that’s now becoming obscene. “It’s natural for you to look like this.”

“I just…” you stammer, still trying to bring this examination back into the realm of productive. “I th-think they’re too big. There’s too much…” you tense up at another wet stroke over your clit. “Too much...meat,” you grit out.

Between your legs, Steve makes a displeased sound. “That’s what the ex told you, huh?” He doesn't wait for you to answer, one of his thumbs sliding down, down, until it starts rubbing down at your taint, pushing right up against the edge of your pussy. You gasp and he shushes you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong, here,” he murmurs, his breath a hot whoosh against you.

You whimper at the realization of how close he is to you now. “Please,” you whisper, “Dr. Kemp—”

“Steve,” he corrects gently, still thumbing circles of pressure into the thin skin at the edge of your hole, almost teasing, almost threatening with how close it is and how with only a little bit more pressure, a different angle, he could slide it right in. “I told you to call me Steve.” His other hand splays out over your mons, the thumb dipping down to swipe up and down over the hood of your clit. It’s a slick, gliding, barely-there touch. He’s hardly applying any pressure but that’s how you like it. You’re so sensitive there, and you can’t hold in the pitiful little moan that leaves your lips. Steve hums in approval. “Yeah,” he says, voice low and quiet. “You’ve got a prominent clitoral hood.”

You toss your head on the table, a whine building in your throat at his bold, clinical language. It doesn’t match his tone of voice or the way he’s touching you. This is so wrong. But you can’t stop it. You like it. He intimidates you horribly, and you like that, too.

He’s still stroking you there as he says, “What was that word you used, hm? ‘Meat’?”

You cringe.

“Well it is,” Steve says lowly. “Very meaty.” He traces your folds again, this time holding your labia delicately between his fingertips and rubbing the sensitive flesh. You just about die.

“St-steve, please,”

“And these lips,” he says, ignoring your pleas. “These gorgeous …juicy fucking folds.” he says, nearly growling the words. “Makes a man wanna lick, and suck…”

You go rigid at the first touch of his tongue. “Ohmygod,” you whisper, hips jolting up against his mouth without your permission. You’re about to apologize, but before you can, Dr. Kemp is loosing the filthiest, most appreciative groan, the tail end of the sound becoming muffled as he mashes his whole mouth against your pussy. “Holy—” Shit, you finish in your mind, unable to force words past your throat anymore. Steve mouths at you like he can’t wait, like he’s desperate, and you feel it as his tongue swipes broadly over your entire cunt. Your fingers spasm, digging painfully into the edges of the exam table as your whole body tenses up. “Oh, god,” you moan, hips jerking against his mouth.

He makes a muffled sound of pleasure and sucks everything he can into his mouth; your clit, your lips. He sucks, hard and sloppy, releasing it all with a loud, wet sound. “Fuck, honey,” he pants. “Never wanted to suck on a pussy so bad.” His hand returns to your mound, his thumb taking up the same swiping motion over your clit, only now you’re drenched and swollen, throbbing with sensitivity.

“Shit,” you whine, pressing up against his hand without realizing it at first.

He holds you down easily and flicks his thumb a little rougher, a little faster. “Yeah? He breathes, kissing at the edge of your sex, near your thigh in a move that is surprisingly sweet. “That feel good for you, Sweetheart?” You make an unplanned noise of assent, and he hums darkly. He’s pleased. “Good girl,” he says again, and flicks his thumb. “Such a big fat clit, and these pretty pink lips. Mmhm, so fucking plump. I could play with it all day, looove it.”

You toss your head, unable to take the words he’s saying. And he’s growling it all at you like it’s a good thing, like your pussy’s the best thing he’s ever seen. You can’t doubt for a second that he means it, but you’re just so overwhelmed by what he’s saying…

You make an embarrassingly high pitched sound when he presses a finger into you. “Oh!”

“Shsh,” he warns you, smoothing his other hand up the apex of your thigh, up under the fabric of your dress, over your belly. “Shh, honey. Don’t want the nurse to walk in, do you?”

You gasp, suddenly afraid of that possibility. He feels you get still and silent and soothes you with a heavy lick over your lips, the finger that’s inside of you curling. “You’re okay,” he promises, kissing your clit, sucking it and letting it pop from his mouth. You sob. “Shh. You’re okay.” He moves his finger shallowly, stroking you from the inside. It feels nice, and you exhale shakily, trying to calm yourself down.

“Steve,” you breathe. “You shouldn’t. We… I shouldn’t….”

All of a sudden he rises from the stool, standing to his full height and moving to the side of the table as he keeps his hand on you, in you. He stares down at you, his expression rapt but tender. It’s so much worse with him looking at you like this. It’s almost harder than when he had his face mashed against you and half your sex inside his mouth. It’s even more serious like this, you think as you blink up at him with parted lips. It’s more personal. He looks you right in the eyes, unfaltering, as he slips in another finger. You keen, and your hips press up into it, seeking. His lips curl, pleased. He moves his hand in such a firm, practiced way. He’s not pulling out very much at all. Not thrusting so much as he is rocking, grinding.

Inside, something starts to feel tight and desperate. You watch him watching you, watching it happen. He’s smiling, smug, he knows what he’s making you feel. “You’re soaking my hand, honey,” he murmurs, and you feel your cheeks flood hot with shame. “Uh uh,” he corrects you, stern. “No, it’s beautiful.”

He changes it, starts rocking deeper, curling against your walls and jabbing harder at that spot. It’s not an orgasm you feel so much as an urgency, and you squeak as the pressure builds. “S-something,” you try to say, try to tell him that something’s going to happen. But his eyes gleam in pleasure, like he already knows. Above your clit, the thumb of his hand starts rubbing in downward strokes: down down down. Holy fuck does it feel good. Your eyes slam shut as you feel it building, building and tightening. Oh—

“I want you to promise me,” Kemp says, and you’re shocked at how close his voice is. You open your eyes. He’s bent over, his face mere inches from yours as his hand keeps working. “Before I make you cum, I want you to promise me,” he growls. “Promise me that you’ll never let anybody cut on this fucking perfect pussy.”

You gasp, his words jabbing at the core of you almost as much as his fingers inside do, “Ahh-oh!”

“Promise me, Angel,” he says, rocking his hand harder, faster, harder. “Promise me now.”

“I… I…ha-oh! I pra–hom–mi–ssss!” Your eyes slam shut and your hips jerk against him as it happens. You cum, you cum hard. You hear him curse and know that he’s moving back down between your legs to look at your clenching cunt. He never stops jerking his hand into you, drawing the pleasure out. You’re loud. You squeal and shriek and jerk wildly through the whole thing, unable to control your body. It’s never felt this; this urgent, this out of control. You buck against his hand, feeling the wetness soaking everything beneath you, until finally it comes to an end.

He pulls out of you and uses both hands to spread your lips apart, staring. You whine and squirm, and then you really feel the extent of the wetness down there, and you blanch. “I—Oh no.” You try to sit up, try to pull away from him and get his hands off you, panicking. “I… I peed.” You struggle, mortified, pulling your feet from the stirrups and swinging them to the side of the table, trying to close yourself to him, trying to get off the table and—

“Heyheyhey, no. Hang on baby, calm down.” Steve stops you, his hands at your waist, keeping you seated on the table. He crowds you, holding you in place. “You didn’t honey, you didn’t. You’re okay.” He laughs. He’s laughing. You can’t believe it as you watch him. You begin to scowl, ready to be hurt and mad, but he hushes you with a kiss to your mouth.

You gasp and go silent, somehow more taken aback by this than anything he’s done yet. His mouth is so sure and confident over yours, his lips pillow soft but commanding. He pulls back from the kiss and looks at you. “You squirted, honey,” he explains, amusement still clear in his eyes, only now you’re calm enough that you can see the affection there, too. The satisfaction, the desire. He’s not making fun of you.

“What?” You look down to the end of the table, where you’d been splayed open for him. The paper covering and the vinyl padding of the table are soaked with a clear liquid. You look down to your lap, which is barely covered by the material of your bunched up sundress now. Between your thighs, it feels wet too. “I… I did?” you nearly whisper, astounded.

He laughs affectionately and leans in to kiss your forehead. “Yeah, Angel, you did. It was amazing.”

You flush and tuck your head down, feeling tingly from his obvious approval. The things he’d said about your body… “You really meant it?” you ask. “All the—”

“Yes,” he says firmly. He tips your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “Hey,” he says gently. “Remember what you promised me.”

You squirm uncomfortably. Maybe he finds you attractive, but you can’t help but to worry about other guys, about the future partners you’ll have. Steve might like it, but he’s just one man. The fact remains that down between your legs, you still look like most of the before halves of the before and after pictures. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, apologetic to dismiss his opinion of you. “But I just… I want my next boyfriend to think I’m pretty, there,” you say reluctantly, glancing up at him.

He has a fierce gleam in his eyes as he boldly tells you, “He already does,” and then surges down to kiss you again.

It’s been a long day. With both his own patients and a bunch of Hickory’s to see to as well, Steve is pretty tired by the time 5:00 rolls around and the office staff is closing up. He changes out of his scrubs and lab coat, back into his gym shorts and sneakers that he’ll jog home in. That’s how Cassie finds him. “Brendan, check it out!” She holds up her phone for him to see the picture of a wet, vaguely purple-colored newborn. “Boy,” she tells him. “Five pounds, whatever ounces. Small but healthy. She says they’re naming him Grady Harrison.”

Steve grins. “Awww.” What a horrible name.

Cassie puts her phone away and tilts her head at him. “A bunch of us are going for drinks. You want to come?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m beat. Gonna head home soon.”

“Mm. You know your nickname is Boring Brendan,” she teases, grabbing up her purse and heading for the exit.

“It is not,” he laughs, waving her out the door. “I’m just gonna finish up with a few notes. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She waves goodbye and the office door falls shut, locking behind her because he’s the last one there and the office manager already left. Steve walks behind the partition of the nurse’s station and sits down, booting up one of the computers. He clicks the mouse over a few folders, typing in his password when it prompts him for entry into the patient data files. There’s one in particular whom he wants to learn everything he can about.

He finds the folder marked with her name:

Moreau, Ann J.

The corner of his mouth ticks up and he clicks to open the file. “Ann,” he murmurs the name, remembering the taste of her cunt against his tongue, filling his mouth, his senses. Mmm. She’d been delicious, exquisite. Not taking his eyes away from the computer screen, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tiny scrap of lace she'd left behind in her hurry to escape him. He holds the panties under his nose, inhaling. Fuck, he thinks, remembering her delicate body in that delicate cotton dress, how she'd cried out and creamed herself for him. So sweet.

He wants to learn more about her, fully plans on tracking her down and taking her on a date. On many dates, if he can.

Because he’s never been the type to be satisfied by just one taste.

Masterlist

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #fresh 2022 #fresh movie #steve kemp #steve kemp x ofc #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x reader #au fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction #fic writing #reader insert #reader fanfiction #reader fic

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farm-lesbian · 11 months

Text

picture this. i’m a young veterinarian specializing in farm animal care. i’m at the very top of my cohort. i take a job in upstate new york. it’s going to be lucrative. my first appointment? martha stewart’s farm. her pony has a limp. she watches me closely, interested in and impressed by my skill as i work on her beloved pony. i’m trying to be cool, but of course i’m freaking out internally! the pony will be just fine. martha is pleased. she invites me inside for a glass of water. there’s an undeniable spark of connection as we chat politely, but i have other animals to see on other farms. she has plenty of animals that need routine care; i know i’ll be seeing her. we build up a comfortable groove, since i see her and her animals almost every week. it’s suddenly christmas time. she invites me to her big christmas party. i’m hesitant but my sassy friends in the big city tell me to go. instead of my practical farm doctor garb i am dressed to the nines. i am the mysterious newbie. martha is looking spectacular, and she only has eyes for me as i sip maybe a little too much fancy champagne. she has dozens of guests to attend to, but she catches my eye several times throughout the night. just as i’m about to leave, the groundskeeper meets me at the door and tells me martha’s sweetest cow is going into labor a week early. good thing im here! martha, even in her resplendent christmas gown, helps me birth the calf. it’s past midnight by the time we’re done, and the calf is happy and healthy. it’s so late, and the roads are icing over. martha offers to let me stay the night. i take a shower in one of the massive guest suites. she invites me downstairs for a nightcap before bed. before we know it she’s spitting in my mouth and i’m wearing her thighs like a pair of headphones.

#marthaposting

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sivarcher-sivvie · 2 years

Text

Another slice of life

It's me and another slice of life short story! This idea is based from S05E17 when Raymond learns Yoga from Charles he said: "My doctor tells me to be more active." So I loved to look into small details 🤣

Also Happy Lunar New Year to anyone who celebrates it by the way!

And since there are two SOL one-shot now, I combined them and posted them on AO3 as well XD If anyone want to read there, please proceed to: A day in the life of Raymond Holt & Kevin Cozner - Chapter 1 - SivArcher - Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

---Doctor's Appointment---

Every once a year, at the summertime there is one specific day is their annual body checkup day where they will spend the whole day doing all the health screenings needed or suggested by their doctor.

"Raymond, can you help me bag these supplements that I've taken for the past year? I've forgot to keep the receipt in. " Kevin was calling the doctor to reconfirm their appointment while asking Raymond help for the supplement showcase later. Normally Kevin will be taking Iron and Vitamin D as his daily supplements because A: He had anemia that is caused by iron deficiency, and B: He rarely go outside to be under the sun, thus Vitamin D needed. On some occasions where he was sleep deprived, he will take Vitamin B as well, and every year he will be showing the doctor what kind of supplements he has in his daily life, despite the doctor already know since he's been their doctor for like 10 years.

On the contrary, Raymond does not believe in supplements needed in his daily life, he believed he can get everything he needs from daily food intake and he has been right. After all he is much more active than Kevin and being under the sun is a normal to him ever since his beat cop day.

"Dear, have you been taking these sleep aid supplement again? " Raymond found the melatonin bottle along with the other supplements and so he asked.

Kevin just finished his phone call with the doctor's receptionist and so he looked at him sheepishly: "Yes, I have. But not every day, only when I couldn't sleep. "

"How is it that I do not know this? How long has it been happening? " Raymond puts down the bottle and getting near to Kevin, almost holding him in his arms.

"It was… It was nothing, really. Just a couple of times. " Kevin looked at him in the eyes try to convince him, but he can tell his husband is lying.

"There is nearly half the bottle gone, Kevin. I am worried about you. " Raymond soften his voice so he doesn't appear to be interrogate his husband. Kevin slumps his shoulder to know that he could never deceive his husband, it has proven many times that Raymond is an exceptional detective and furthermore, he can read him like a book.

"Ever since the… Safe House incident, sometimes I will have nightmare and so I… took some of the sleeping aids. I didn't tell you because it was really just happening sometimes and I was able to sleep more normally these days, truly. " Kevin lean into him and pat him in the back to assure Raymond that he is fine, he doesn't have to worry about him.

Raymond knew that incident must have some aftermath for Kevin, it was such a traumatize experience yet he failed to notice his husband changes: "I am sorry, Kevin. You should have never been through all of that. "

Kevin shook his head and kiss him on the lips gently: "Stop apologize to me, it was not your fault. Raymond. And you have done everything you could, I am still here, aren't I? "

He looked him in the eye, the striking blues that fulfilled every moment in his life, and so he said: "Yes, you are. "

The trip to the doctor was smooth and the checkup has been performed swiftly, one week later they have another appointment where the doctor will review their screening report.

It usually went well as he and Kevin remain a pretty healthy lifestyle on their food and exercise, albeit lesser in the recent years but Raymond trust that they will have no big issue.

It was partially correct though.

"Mr Holt, your cholesterol level has been climbing up to the borderline number. " The doctor circled up the shockingly close to the unhealthy checkpoint number and said to him.

Raymond stares at his report, he could not believe it. After all, he's been eating healthily, doing exercises regularly with the fencing and squash, how had he come to this?

"As well as your liver function has been exceeding the normal number a little bit. The others have been perfectly in range and healthy! " Raymond looked at that number where it's higher by 2 points from the normal range.

To be fair, he does drink a lot more compared to before he came to the 99, mostly is they gathered at the bar a lot, and the cheap liquor has such nasty effects.

"Mr Holt, do not need to be too worried about these. At your age, your number is still very good. I wouldn't worry a lot about the cholesterol level or liver function number, but I do suggest you to be more active and less drinking if possible. " The doctor closed his report and gave his insights.

"I understand, thank you, doctor. " Raymond nods and put a mental note in his mind to be more active and he should drink less in those team gatherings at the Shaw's bar.

Or maybe he should just drink water only from now on.

"Your turn, Mr Cozner. " The doctor opens another report while Raymond and Kevin switched places on the chair. Kevin puts his hands on Raymond's shoulder to signal him comfort.

"How was your knees and throat? Are they doing okay? " Though before the doctor review the report, he asked about Kevin's current wellbeing due to Kevin had history of Osteoarthritis and Chorditis.

Kevin nodded along: "Yes, they have been improving a lot. " Raymond knows Kevin's knees has been in suboptimal state, according to doctor this is unavoidable as it was a natural degrade of his knees. That's why he never let Kevin hold any heavy object or doing any movements that require squads. And ever since couple years ago he had that Chorditis, his throat had become easily sore due to overuse them in the class.

These were old problems that Raymond hope that pain can leave Kevin alone, but to no avail and he guess it's just part of the life progress.

"That's good. Keep up with the medicine and you'll be alright. As for your screening report… " The doctor flipped on the pages of the report, from Raymond's eyesight, it seems everything is alright.

"Your result are very good! Nothing was excessive and every single number are within range. " The doctor smiled at his report and gave a clearance to him.

"That is wonderful. Thank you, doctor. " They finished their session soon after Kevin picks up his medicine from the pharmacy.

On their ride back to the house, Raymond still couldn't believe that he was not the perfect result man that he always secretly prided himself with. Even after they reached the house, he's still thinking about it.

"I could not believe that I had a red number this year. " He still stares at his report, on the sofa while Kevin is making them tea.

"It is okay, Raymond. We are getting old, and the doctor said do not worry. " Kevin puts out his tea and comfort him.

"I'll have to be more active I guess. Sadly, our squash club had been turned into a racquetball club. The audacity of those people. " Raymond picks up Kevin's report and read that it was indeed a flawless healthy report.

"I agreed. " Kevin is taking his Osteoarthritis medicine with the water, he will have his throat protection medicine after the dinner.

"I'm glad your results are good. Congratulations, Kevin. " He sips his tea while watching his husband swallowed the white pills in a weird face. His Kevin is not fond of having pills and always have it hard to swallow.

"Thank you, Raymond. Although I am the one who needs to keep having these medicine even though I have a perfect score on the screening. " Kevin pointed his medicine bag and sigh.

"You know these are two different things. And if you don't take it, your knees might be in great pain again. " Raymond hold his hand to be an emotional support, he has seen Kevin when his knees acting up, he couldn't afford to see that again, it breaks his heart.

"I know. I won't want to experience that pain again. " Kevin lies his head on his shoulder and happily sigh.

"Do you want a massage on them? " Raymond looked at Kevin's legs, it's been sometimes that he gave Kevin a massage. He normally done it to his neck and shoulder but he's very good at legs too.

"Yes I do. Thank you, Raymond. " And so Kevin moves his body to a proper position so that Raymond can massage his legs comfortably.

While Kevin looked at his man, his husband, and feeling the big warm hand from him on his knees, his eyes were soft and so he smiled.

'What a good day. ' He thought while he slowly falls asleep.

---

I normally write these in between of the long fics so I can escape to other ideas sometimes hahaha. These one-shots have not been edited though so 😅😅

#thank you for reading #holt x kevin #i love these slice of life idea

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dylanmunson · 2 years

Text

baby parker - part nine

pervious | next

series list | master of masterlists | wattpad

this story also has its own book on wattpad now!

an: baby parkers first birthday part two! so picture on the left is parkers zoo outfit and the one on the right is her birthday party outfit. also i saw this pic (the centre middle one) on google and i couldnt help myself.

Looking down at the test as i sit on the closed toilet seat, i sigh waiting for the 5 mins to be up. "hey sweetheart you alright?" eddie says knocking on the door, "mhmm" i say "bub?" "yeah yeah im fine eds, just two seconds" i say.

The + sigh looking back at me.

I open the door not expecting eddie to be on the other side, "baby wha--, whats that box?" he says, im looking down, with the test hanging by my side "whats what?" i mumble, he moves past me and goes into the bathroom, "this" he says, holding the test box. "hun?" he says walking up to me, "baby look at me" he mumbles cupping my face.

I bite my bottom lip and try look away, "hey no no look at me" he says i close my eyes trying to blink back the tears, he sighs softly pulling me into his chest "was it negative? i mean we could totally try if you wanted" he chuckles, i shake my head moving away and showing him the test.

"m'sorry eds" i mumble, wiping my eyes. "dadada" he kisses my forehead before walking out and grabbing parker who's playing in the living area, he pops her on his side and walks back to me pulling me into his chest. "so parkers gonna be a big sister huh" he grins, "your not mad?" i sniff, he shakes his head "course not hun, why did you think id be mad?" he chuckles. i shrug my shoulders taking a deep breath.

"its not exactly what you want in a new relationship is it?" i shrug wiping my eyes, "like you've already taken on parker but" "shhh" he chuckles kissing my forehead again, parker giggling and trying to copy. "our little family" he grins, "really not mad" he shakes his head "course not" he chuckles, "at this rate we could so have our own little family band" he grins, i laugh shaking my head "alright slow down big boy" i smile at the man.

"why dont i go get parker ready, you ring the doctors to sort out an appointment then go shower and we'll head out yeah" he smiles, i nod "i love you eddie" i smile kissing his lips softly "and i love you" he grins kissing me back "and you princess" he grins kissing all over parkers face "dada" she laughs.

deciding to leave after lunch time, as the sick feeling kept coming back, parker is having her nap while we drive to the zoo. "eds?" i mumble, hands on my tummy. "yes sweet heart" he grins looking over at me, before his eyes go back to the road. "nevermind" i shake my head sighing, "whats on your mind pretty girl?" he smiles, "your coming to the doctors appointment with me right?" he nods "course i am" he chuckles "ok good... good" i nod, "sweetheart" he says, pulling over to the side of the road.

"ed what you doing?" he smiles, putting the car into park and giving me his full attention. "i know your whole pregnancy with parker wasnt easy and you had to do it all alone" he starts, i nod "but im here, im not going anywhere, i'll be at every appointment even if its just for silly little blood tests" he grins, i nod "hated the needles" i mumble, he grins taking my hands into his, kissing the back of them. "well then i'll be there holding your hand and distracting you kay?" i nod "we'll get steve or dustin to watch parker when we go, i'll even pick up some extra hours at the shop" he smiles, "what if you dont like me anymore when im all big and bloated and pregnant?" i mumble looking down.

he smirks, before laughing. the arsehole is laughing at me. "baby, sweet girl" he says smiling "i could never not like you" he grins "your prefect the way you are, regardless kay?" i bite my bottom lip trying not to cry for a second time today. "right now are we ready to get to the zoo and enjoy our little family day out?" he smiles, i nod giving him a quick kiss before he starts driving again.

///

Arriving at the zoo, Parkers in her pushchair as we walk around to see all the animals, first is the monkeys "dada ooooo" she grins up at eddie, "uuh" she sighs pulling on her strap "awh does parker wanna get out?" she looks at eddie and nods "owwwtt dada" she sighs, eddie looks at me before getting the girl out and putting her on his hip.

"dada oook" she grins, pointing at the monkeys, "what do monkeys do bub?" he grins "oooo oo" she grins, looking at me, "hey baby" i smile and wave at the little girl. "iii" she giggles waving to me, we move on to the elephants where parker audibly gasps, eddie grins at the girl, as she hides in his chest as they make their sound. "Awh did that scare you baby?" he smiles rubbing her back, she pouts and covers her ears. "Oh poor baby" he chuckles "can parker make that sound?" he grins blowing a raspberry on her cheek, which of course gets her giggling. "dada" she grins, trying to copy the action.

Next is the lions, eddie has parker stood against the glass, with him behind her so she doesnt fall. Shes getting quite confident at standing alone, but isnt quite there with the letting go yet. "can baby go roarr" i grin, bending down to her level. "oooorrrr" she grins, trying to pull a scary face, "roar" i grin, she giggles, "oooorrrr dada" she says turning to look at eddie, trying to make the sound and scare him?

"oh baby you scared me" he grins, putting his hand on his chest, parkers face falls a little "dada" she pouts "oh no baby im fine see" he smiles, "daddys fine baby, hes just pretending see" i smile, parker looks at the man confused before her attention is back on the lions in front of us.

"does parker wanna see the farm animals" eddie grins, parker now being on his shoulders, the 1 year old not wanting to return back to her push chair. "oooooo" she giggles, as we walk over to the small farm area.

"look baby a cow" i grin "oooooo" she grins looking at the animal. "eeeeowwww" she says patting eddies head, "theres no cats here baby" he chuckles "can you go oink oink" he grins "oi oi" she says, "nearly bubba" he chuckles moving her down so shes on his hip again. "parker look sheeep!!" i smile, "baaa" she grins, clapping her hands, "dada ooook baaaabaaaa" she grins, trying to show eddie the sheep, "you alright sweetheart?" he says looking in my direction, i nod "just a wave of sickness, im fine, im good" i smile.

He nods biting his lip "ah sheep parker" he grins, kissing the side of my head.

After a little bit more walking parker has fallen asleep in eddies arms, "can we stop at the gift shop?" i smile "course we can" he chuckles "i just wanted to get her a teddy yano" i shrug, looking at all the stuffed animals deciding on what one to get the little girl. "What one eds?" i smile, "mhm?" he smiles looking at something else. "Oh lion 100%" he grins, i smile and nod "she really did like the lions to be fair" i smile, picking it up "whatcha looking at" i smile.

He picks up a small elephant muzzie type toy, but its got a small head,arms and legs, "its so soft" he chuckles, nodding "think she'd like the lion one though" i smile, he nods "i was actually thinking for the other little one" he smiles, going a little red, biting his lip. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out "i know we only found out this morning but" he shrugs "ed" i say, "dont its silly i know" he shakes his head, "no no hun its not" i smile, "if your getting little one that then we sound get them a little baby grow as well" i smile picking up a new born sized baby grow, before putting it back and picking up a size 3-6months.

the muzzie.

The baby grow as little elephants on it to match the muzzie, i smile at eddie as we go to pay before heading to the car to drive back home.

///

Its now the weekend and we're getting ready for parkers small birthday party at steves house, he had rented a bouncy house for her, it was really an excuse for everyone to be a big kid for the day, lets be honest.

Everyone took it in turns watching over parker and playing with her in the bouncy house, as she bounced and giggled the day away. The younger boys had all chipped in and brought her a toy car, which she loved! Dustin sat her in it and began pushing her around the garden, she thought it was the best thing ever.

Watching my little girl play and giggle with everyone made me feel so happy, this time last year i was in the hospital alone having just given birth to the little girl, now i'm sat in the garden with my loving boyfriend with number two on the way and all our friends.

"hey y/n phones for you!" Nancy smiles, i nod getting up and going to the phone. "hello?" "hi sweetheart" Wayne says "hey is everything ok?" "everythings fine, just the hospital rang?" "right?" "said to give them a call? is everything ok?" "yeah everythings fine wayne thankyou, i'll give them a call now!" "alright sweetheart, you know where i am if you need me!" "thankyou wayne" not thinking much of wayne getting a phone call, but realised eddie mustve put down his old home phone number when writing down all our details.

After hanging up i ring the doctors them confirming i am indeed pregnant, offering an ultascan tomorrow, for a follow up appointment in a months time depending on how far along i am. I agree before going back and sitting with eddie. "Everything ok sweet?" i nod "your off tomorrow right?" "nope, got work in the afternoon why?" i nod "ive got a scan" i smile "what time? i'll call and say" "its in the morning dont worry" i chuckle "your not gonna miss it dont worry" i smile kissing him "wouldnt miss it even if i was working" he chuckles kissing me back.

"love you eddie" he grins kissing me again "and i love you sweetheart"

#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x fem! reader #mine #dylanmunson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female original character #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson x female reader

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rainbowbarnacle · 2 years

Text

Mmh, so, it's been a little while, I thought I'd do a little catchup post for the past couple years.

Good Things:

Still in a LDR with @mercurialmalcontent. Hi, darling, I love your whole face.

Bea is 10 as of this year and continues to be terrifying and adorable and terrifyingly adorable.

She did have some vet incidents this year--along with her check-up, she had to get her teeth cleaned. If you've never had a cat's teeth cleaned before, this means she had to get konked out, and oh boy she wasn't happy with me when she woke back up again, but all is well. It turns out she really likes the dental chicken treats!

Also at some point my poor baby got an ingrown toenail. It was easily fixable, at least, and they gave her a cute sheep bandage that matched her eyes:

But all that aside, my murderpuff has a clean bill of health, and thanks to some savings, it didn't entirely gouge my bank.

I have been gleefully absorbing myself in various shows here and there. The Owl House and Our Flag Means Death and What We Do in the Shadows are the most recent fandomy things. I had a lot of fun with The Witcher! (although I still need to catch up on season 2) Luka played Witcher 3 at some point and wow that game is amazing--the stories, the graphics, the music, the monsters, the voice acting, all of it A+++. Still glomming my eyeballs all over One Piece and Mob Psycho and Heaven's Design Team.

I've also been catching up on horror movies! These are often things I avoided like the plague because when I was little I used to think that if I watched things like The Exorcist or Scream or Hellraiser or Evil Dead, MY SENSITIVE SUGARSPUN SOUL WOULD BE TRAUMATIZED FOREVER, but I am continually surprised at how good these stories end up being. I even managed to get through Poltergeist, which I hadn't seen since my mother made me watch it when I was nine. Lots of women helping each other, and familial love, and all kinds of really interesting themes mixed in with it that I was too traumatized to really notice when I was a wee kidlet trying not to bodily expire at the sight of that FREAKIN CLOWN DOLL

As for videogames, I primarily live in FFXIV these days. (I still dip a toe in Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, The Secret World, and Minecraft sometimes though.) The Shadowbringer and Endwalker expansions absolutely blew me away, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

I have been devouring lots of comics. Current favorites include: Kill Six Billion Demons, Everything is Fine, Unsounded, The Sea in You, Sink Your Hookteeth, Castle Swimmer, Shot & Chaser, Path to Timbala, Solivaga, Mias and Elle, and Feral Gentry. Got any recommendations? GIMMIE. :D

Things are mostly uneventful on the writing front. Still writing, still editing people's projects, but mostly I'm just sort of over here in my little corner chipping away at a few original stories as well as a pile of fics for ao3. It's slow going, but it's going.

Crappy Things:

I got a type 2 diabetes diagnosis sometime in May of 2019. I've been handling it pretty okay--my a1c is down to 5.8 as of my last doctor appointment! It's also been a weirdly fun opportunity to learn some new recipes and figure out how low glycemic foods work, so there's that.

I'm still struggling with CFS. Bleeeeh. No huge changes there--big wonky weather changes still make me feel like god is personally wadding me up into a ball, post-exertional malaise continues to be pretty miserable. I do my best to move around when I can--I even got a tiny exercise bike for when it's too icy/humid/miserable for walking, and this also means that if I feel like I'm overdoing it I can just stop instead of having to stagger all the way back home.

Still estranged from 99% of my relatives. No big changes there--I talk to my grandma about once a week, but that's about it.

Still struggling with mental health stuff--deperession, anxiety, PTSD, bad dreams, all that stuff. The one good thing about crappy brainweather is that I can kind of wait it out and something will change, though, so I've just kind of been taking it a day at a time.

I've been pretty freakin' lucky with COVID-19. I've had all my shots, and I'm continuing to mask up and handwash and all that stuff.

Sooo, that's what I've been up to mostly! :D Is that everything? I think that's everything.

Oh, we've also been having some rad thunderstorms:

#domestic blifs #beatrix

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Part Fourteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: my quickest AND longest update to date?? who am i??

merry christmas for real this time. thank you sm for reading i never voice my appreciation for yall but it’s there i swear

tw: abuse mention

***

Cassian’s plan to grab his stuff and get the hell back home is intercepted by Feyre, who pulls him aside and proceeds to spill everything about her fight with Nesta to him.

His heart hurts for Feyre—he of all people knows what it’s like to feel unwanted by your biological family. But what did she really think would happen? Their entire friend group is about placing chosen bonds over blood bonds. Feyre can’t be that offended if Nesta prefers the company of her friends over her little sisters. And trying to talk to Nesta about her therapy? Jesus.

But Cassian has a feeling it’ll take both Feyre and Elain a long spelling out of things before they can begin to understand Nesta the way he does, and he doesn’t have time for that right now. He’s too distracted to even provide the comfort Feyre came to him for.

Somehow, he makes up an excuse and detaches himself from the conversation, leaving to find his coat and keys. Azriel spies him on the way to the door and gives him a look.

“Not a fucking word,” Cassian growls as he passes. Everyone else is engrossed in a game of poker and getting progressively more drunk. Feyre now sits on Rhys’s lap, once again content. Azriel only smirks but shakes his head, letting Cassian slip out of the penthouse unnoticed.

He takes the long way home, needing the night air and flashing headlights to clear his head. Once he gets off the freeway leading to town, though, he picks up his phone and calls Nesta.

She doesn’t pick up.

On the fourth call that goes unanswered, Cassian gives up. Fine. She doesn’t want to talk to him tonight. But still he finds himself driving past her neighborhood, once, twice, as if he’s listless without being able to talk to her. He has too many feelings he needs to get off his chest, and she’s the first person he always goes to for those things.

Try to consider her feelings.

It’s that thought that forces him to turn around and drive back to the cabin. They’ll both feel better in the morning, anyway. He can find her and talk as soon as the day starts.

It’s past midnight when he finally pulls up to the driveway, and still he’s disappointed to not see Nesta’s car there. Still he’s disappointed to enter an empty cabin.

The Christmas tree they decorated together sits unlit in the corner of the living room, their presents untouched under the fir leaves. Without turning the lights on, Cassian trudges upstairs and heads straight to bed.

Any sleep he finds is short and restless. His eyes shut sometime around three in the morning, and when they next open, early dawn light is streaming in through the windows. Snow flurries gently against the glass.

Giving up on the prospect of genuine rest, Cassian accepts that he’ll have to seek out Nesta with dark circles and a half-functioning brain today.

He already has a list in his mind as he heads downstairs: get coffee and breakfast for Nesta, get dressed, be at her door by the time she wakes at nine.

Then he reaches the foot of the stairs, and realizes none of that is necessary.

Straight out of his dreams, Nesta is sitting cross-legged on the ground before the coffee table, inspecting a puzzle piece in the cutest sweater he’s ever seen.

Cassian freezes with his hand on the banister, wondering if he’s still asleep. He watches her bite her lip intently, trying to fit the puzzle piece into a corner of the puzzle. It doesn’t fit.

“Fuck,” she swears softly, tossing the piece aside. Cassian clears his throat.

Nesta’s head shoots up, her focus broken. “You’re awake.”

“You’re in my house,” he says dumbly.

“That’s what the key you gave me is for, isn’t it?”

Hesitantly, like he’s approaching a wounded bear, Cassian walks farther into the living room. “Are you—I mean, are we…?”

“Use your words, baby.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. She doesn’t seem upset. There’s so much he wants to ask her: did she sleep well? Where did she get her Christmas sweater from, and does it mean she’s secretly been a fan of Christmas all along? Does she want hot chocolate or coffee with her breakfast?

“How was your night?” he settles on. He moves to sit across from her at the coffee table.

“Find where this goes,” Nesta demands, handing him a new puzzle piece and pointing to their nearly finished puzzle.

Cassian obeys, and Nesta talks while he works. “I was pretty pissed when I got home last night,” she says. “I wanted to tell you all about this stupid fight I had with my boyfriend, and how I knew he was right but I was still furious at him, until I remembered that you were my boyfriend, and I didn’t want to see you.”

Cassian pretends to focus on the puzzle, letting Nesta get her words out.

“So Gwyn called to say thank you for her present—you were right, by the way, she loves it—and then we ended up talking the whole night, and I told her everything about my sisters and,” she waves a hand, “the other shit.

“And at one point I realized that I was telling her the stuff I needed to be telling you. So I came here as soon as I hung up with Gwyn.”

Cassian looks up. “When was that?”

Nesta shrugs. “Five in the morning?”

“Nesta,” he scolds. “You’ll fuck up your sleep cycle.”

“Will you let me get to my point, damn it?”

Cassian shuts up and sits back.

Nesta is staring down at the puzzle, fiddling with her fingernails. Carefully selecting her next words like an attorney would. “I wanted to apologize for—the things I said last night. I was projecting my insecurities onto you, and I’m sure you already know it, but that doesn’t make it okay.” She looks up, face serious. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other. We always have. But I let that affect how I treated you when you had nothing to do with it.”

“But you were right.” Cassian can’t stay quiet anymore. “I mean, a lot of what you said was wrong, but at the heart of your point you were right.” It took Cassian all night to sift through what Nesta had said, to separate the truth from the meaningless words of hurt. He finally sees it now.

“I should have watched out for you last night, even if I couldn’t claim you as my girlfriend. I know how you are in new environments with new people and I left you to the wolves.” The wolves are his most trusted friends, sure, but they aren’t Nesta’s. And he was an idiot to forget it.

Nesta fixes another puzzle piece into place, and for the first time this morning, true regret passes over her face. “I didn’t enjoy hurting you. I hated every second of it while I was doing it. So as long as you know I didn’t mean any of it, I’ll be fine.”

We were good distractions for each other in your lonely little cabin, but deep down you know we wouldn’t last a day in the real world.

You were sad and desperate for acknowledgement when we first met, and you’re the same way now.

Cassian nods once. “I know,” he says softly. “You could never lie to me.” Even if some of her words had struck a little truer than they should have. Cassian realizes bitterly it’s because her insecurities are the same as his.

“So are you going to tell me about what the real problem was yesterday?” He dares to broach the elephant in the room.

Nesta stiffens, refocusing on the puzzle to avoid his gaze. “I already told you,” she says. “My sisters and I bring out the worst in each other.”

“There’s more to it than that, though.” When Nesta doesn’t respond, he adds, “Feyre told me her side of the story. It probably wasn’t all of it, but if it makes you feel better, I agreed with you.”

Nesta snorts derisively. “She was being unreasonable, but I made it worse. You know that, don’t you?” She raises a brow. “You know how I am.”

Cassian remembers their screaming match from the time he tried to get her a doctor’s appointment, and oddly enough, smiles. “I know you hate it,” he says, “and I know it’s frustrating as hell, but people stop taking your arguments seriously when you start flinging insults. It probably isn’t fair, but you’ve been in a courtroom. You know how it works.”

Nesta grimaces. “Believe me, the future lawyer in me is not proud of how I held up in last night’s fight.”

“Right there.” Cassian slides a section of green pieces over to himself and fits them into place, completing the rolling hills of the landscape scene. There’s only a handful of pieces left, all in the sky area. He waits for Nesta to be ready to speak.

After several moments of working in silence, she says, “My sisters have never really accepted me the way I am. I used to think Elain did back when we were kids, but then I stopped prioritizing her and she stopped understanding.”

Cassian knows Elain is pissed that her once-closest sister no longer cares to talk to her. But what he wants to know is why Nesta stopped answering her calls. Why she pulled away and went into isolation, and wouldn’t come out for anyone until a few short months ago.

Nesta clears her throat. “I was not a well-adjusted kid. I’m not a well-adjusted adult, either, but—I was even worse in my youth. I had a deadbeat dad, who I hated while my sisters adored him. I hated the life we had to live because of him, and I let that hate seep everywhere. Into everything and everyone else.” She blows out a breath and shakes her head. “There was no place closer to hell than that fucking one-bedroom apartment. I hated the person I was in that place—like I had no control over my emotions, my tantrums, my entire self. I was stuck in this childlike state of rage and I couldn’t move on, couldn’t grow up.

“No one could figure out what was wrong with me, so I had to take care of my issues myself. I read more books, I went out more often, I always had headphones in—I learned how to escape. I learned how to limit the destruction. Once I did that, I could care for Elain more openly. I could have civil conversations with Feyre, too. That’s where we went wrong, I think. I gave Feyre hope that I could be a better person, and once she latched onto it, she refused to let go.” Nesta picks at the sleeves of her knit sweater. “She never understood that I was cold and removed just because I was. She always had this belief that deep down, I secretly had a heart of gold and a shit ton of love to give. I never bothered telling her she was wrong, so her expectations of me grew. And so did Elain’s. And then I graduated high school.” She shrugs.

Cassian frowns. “That’s when you left your family and moved here?”

She nods. “The distance helped. For a short time, I thought I was free. No responsibilities or people to answer to. But then I met Tomas—my ex—and Feyre and Elain followed me to Colorado not long after my dad died. And even then I stayed optimistic, because most people would be lucky to have their sisters and boyfriend all in the same place. I thought I could finally have all the relationships a normal person my age was supposed to have if I just put in the effort.” She meets Cassian’s eyes. “I never told you much about Tomas, did I?”

His stomach sinks, but he shakes his head.

“It was not a fun first love. But the only reason I didn’t tell you about it earlier was because I didn’t know how to describe it myself.” She rubs her palms down her thighs, but it isn’t enough to hide their tremble.

“I know what to call it now,” Nesta says. “It was abusive.”

Cassian says nothing. He can’t. But his hands curl into hard fists under the coffee table.

“Lana made me work up to using that word.” She rolls her eyes, like the whole thing annoys and embarrasses her. “He was abusive: physically, verbally, emotionally. I’m not going to go into the details or anything, but it’s what was happening to me during those college years that my sisters needed me to be there for them.”

Cassian would never in a thousand years ask Nesta for information she isn’t ready to give, but in that moment he’s overwhelmed with the need to know everything—every little thing that’s ever been done to her, so he can draw up a list and exact calculated revenge for all of it. His voice is rough against the lump in his throat, out of fury or despair he doesn’t know. “Nesta…”

“I promise I’m almost done.” She holds up a hand.

Take your time. Tell me everything.

“This isn’t about him,” Nesta says. “This is about my sisters. Because even if I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that man waste almost four years of my life, I would have ended up in the same place with Feyre and Elain. They’d still be disappointed when they realized I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.” She wraps her arms around herself in a hug, and Cassian wishes he’d sat beside her so those could be his arms.

She shakes her head. “I did my best so I wouldn’t be cooped up with them, wouldn’t be lashing out at them… and it still wasn’t enough. They wanted me to be nice, friendly, talkative. So I tried doing that too, even though I hated it. But around the same time things with Tomas started to get unbearable, Feyre found Rhysand and you guys. So now I had to hang out with my sister while she had a group of strangers constantly surrounding her, and go back home to a man who hated me at the end of the day.” She looks up at Cassian then, and her blue-gray gaze hits him with the force of a truck. “As soon as Feyre moved away to Velaris, I saw my way out. I finally broke up with Tomas. I gave up on all my relationships and I let go, and I don’t care if you or anyone else thinks it’s pathetic, or the bare minimum. It’s all I had to give.”

Cassian swallows roughly, unable to find his words. “It’s not pathetic, Nesta,” he finally says. “There’s nothing pathetic about doing what doesn’t come easily to you.”

There’s a million other things he needs to say to her, to make sure that she knows she isn’t stupid, or embarrassing, or not enough. But it all floats right out of his head when she heaves a big, dramatic sigh, as if a great weight has been lifted off her chest. As if Cassian’s measly words were all she needed to hear to feel alright.

She snatches up the final remaining puzzle piece and clicks it into place. “And we’re done,” she declares.

Cassian looks down at the table between them, which is now fully lit by the beaming morning sun outside. His eyes land on an empty space near the corner of the landscape, and his face falls. “There’s a piece missing,” he says.

“No way, where?” Nesta leans closer.

Cassian is already on his hands and knees, checking under and around the table for the missing piece.

“This is all your fault,” Nesta is saying above him. “You bumped into the table that time we were making out and all those pieces went flying.”

“Well, how fucking far could it have gone? Help me find it.” He’s serious now, searching the floor with intent. They can’t leave the puzzle unfinished. It was the only thing he could find in his garage all those months ago that could distract Nesta from anticipating her MRI results. And after the diagnosis, it had been a way to lift her mood, to give the two of them an excuse to spend every evening together—

“Sweetheart, it’s just a puzzle.”

Cassian sits up straight at that. “Just a puzzle?” He narrows his eyes at her.

“Well, it’s either that or an overextended metaphor for our relationship—are you crying?”

“No.” He blinks quickly. If there’s wetness there, he doesn’t know how Nesta glimpsed it.

He’s had a hard twelve hours. Nesta even more so. “I just feel really bad, about last night and everything else.” Because even if she acts like what she just spilled to him isn’t a big deal, he’ll never forget it.

He looks up to find Nesta laughing. Hand-over-her-mouth cackling. Before he can ask what’s wrong with her, she’s climbing up onto the coffee table, breaking up the puzzle and sending pieces scattering as she crawls across it. “Nesta—” he starts to protest.

She drops into his lap, winding her arms and legs around his powerful body. And she leans in and kisses him, long and deep and sweet. His hands settle into the curve of her hips, where they’ve always fit perfectly.

She breaks the kiss to fit her palm to his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she says. She never says that. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” Her lips quirk up teasingly, but real guilt from the night before lingers in her eyes. Cassian realizes in that moment that Nesta could never hurt anybody more than she hurts herself.

“Don’t waste your apologies on me.” He nudges her nose with his. “Save them for people who’ll actually need to hear them.”

A real smile starts to bloom on her face. “I’ll try.”

Pride and love take his breath away, but he manages to say, “Thank you. For sharing so much of yourself with me.”

She makes an embarrassed noise and waves him off, but emotion shines in her eyes. Just to spare her, Cassian changes the subject. “Now what in the world are you wearing?”

She glances down at herself, frowning. “You don’t like it?”

“I love it.” The sweater looks hand knit, bright red with a green Christmas tree in the center. Balls of colorful fuzz decorate the tree as ornaments. “I want you to wear it every day,” he says.

“Over my dead body. I’d rather you help me take it off.”

Nesta’s hips feel especially snug against his as heat rushes to his crotch. She smirks like she caught him on a hook and leans in to whisper, “You look tired. Did you stay up thinking about my dress last night?”

Cassian swallows roughly. It might have crossed his mind a few times—not just the dress, but the fact that she had picked it out for him. He didn’t know that Nesta cared about things like that.

She rubs a thumb under his weary and reddened eyes. “After your anger faded, did you think about all the make-up sex we were going to have? Because I did.”

“Nesta,” he groans, dropping his head to rest against her chest. Either she plays him too well or he’s too easy to play, because Cassian is half a second away from damning everything to hell and dragging her to the living room carpet.

Until Nesta’s stomach growls loudly.

That’s when he remembers: it’s Christmas morning, he’s with the love of his life, and they’re both starving and sleep-deprived.

He looks up to find her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Before she can protest, he warns, “Don’t even think about it.” He pats her thighs. “Let’s get some food in you.”

***

Cassian makes them chocolate chip pancakes, and Nesta, feeling clingier than usual today, hangs piggyback off his body the entire time he cooks. She hasn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, yet she feels like she was born anew this morning.

In the middle of breakfast, Cassian’s phone vibrates. He hardly even glances at it before turning it over.

“Who was it?” Nesta asks through a mouthful of pancakes. She hasn’t asked him about how his own night went, but she expects that his friends will want to call and talk to him at some point today.

“Feyre,” he says without looking at her. “She asked where I went last night.”

“Why’re you ignoring her?” She raises a brow.

Cassian looks a little surprised. “I thought we were mad at her.”

“No.” Nesta sets her fork down. “I’m mad at her. What’s your excuse?”

He shrugs. “Solidarity. I’m mad that you had your Christmas Eve ruined. I know what it took you just to show up there.”

“You’re the only one that knows.” Nesta supposes that not everything has been cleared up with Cassian after all. “Listen,” she tries to soften her blunt tone. “Whatever is between me and my sisters… you don’t need to concern yourself with it. You’ll never have to choose sides between us.”

He watches her closely, carefully. “Even if I want to defend my girlfriend?”

Her stomach flutters at that inconsequential word, but she doesn’t show it. “Even then. Feyre looks at you like an older brother. I’m sure Elain does too, a little bit. Don’t let me get in the way of that.” He probably feels guilty every time he texts Feyre, the loyal bastard.

Cassian looks at his plate, then nods resolutely. “I can do that.” He adds a moment later, “For what it’s worth, I do get where the girls are coming from. Even if they had a shit way of going about it.” His eyes darken as he remembers.

Nesta doesn’t know what he was told about the fight, but she chuckles at his moody face anyway. “I expected you to. You’ve always loved spending time with your family, and you’ve never known anything different. But the reality is this: the closeness you have between you and your brothers isn’t something that can be forced onto every group of siblings. And the more Feyre and Elain try to force it, the more I push against it.”

“It sounds stifling.” His face is open, understanding. “To feel like you’re always too much but never enough.”

Nesta pauses, stunned. Cassian is almost too empathetic sometimes, like he carries a thousand past lives within him. Maybe he spent his time learning Nesta by heart in those lives.

Or maybe she’s getting too damn sentimental. She chokes out a dismissive laugh, going back to her pancakes. “Just text Feyre back. Then we can have the rest of the day to ourselves.”

***

Late morning brings heavy snowfall and a chill that infiltrates the walls of the cabin. The Christmas tree in the living room is lit—something Cassian didn’t notice earlier when he came downstairs to find Nesta in his house. Realizing that she’s the one who lit it up first thing in the morning does something to his chest, but he pushes the feeling down where it can’t scare Nesta away.

The weight of the past day must finally catch up to her, though, because by the time Cassian finishes lighting the fireplace, she’s knocked out asleep on the couch.

“No makeup sex then, Nes?” he says softly. Getting up from the hearth, he goes to pull the fur couch throw over her body. Cassian settles at the end of the couch near her feet, taking care so she doesn’t wake, and picks up his laptop from the coffee table. He’s been slacking with his work ever since he got with Nesta, and he might as well catch up on it now before Rhysand takes notice.

The first email that pops up in his inbox is a corporate reminder about the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser gala, hosted in some high-class hotel in Denver this year. Cassian reads the email once, twice, three times before reaching for his phone.

Rhys answers on the first ring. “Oh, so you don’t hate us,” he drawls.

“What?” Cassian is confused.

“Because with the way you’ve been acting at family events lately, one would have reason to think you don’t want to be around your family much.”

“Oh—no, this isn’t about that.” Cassian refuses to let Rhys linger on this topic. “I called about the New Year’s party.”

“What about it?” he says. “Other than that tacky hotel.”

Cassian decides to spit it out. “I’m not coming.”

Rhys is stunned silent over the line for a moment. “What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Cassian never misses company events, no matter how much he hates dressing up and driving out to the city to schmooze with donors.

But too many of his holidays have gone to Rhys instead of Nesta this year, and he finds himself unwilling to give more.

“I’ve been stressed as hell lately,” he lies, trying to stay quiet for Nesta. “I’m always the one driving hours to see everyone else, and I can’t go all the way out to Denver for another party. I’m sorry.”

“Bullshit,” Rhys responds. “You have nothing going on at work and nothing going on outside of it. What could you be stressed about?”

Cassian makes a mental note to find a hobby that doesn’t include his brothers, if only so he can use it as an excuse to spend time with his secret girlfriend in the future. For now, he has to settle with the truth. “I can’t tell you.”

It’s a petty card to play, but it’s a valid one. No matter how nosy his family might be, they know how to back off when a line is drawn, no explanation required.

Rhys’s voice softens. “Is it serious? Is it a health issue?”

Cassian nearly laughs, even though he feels bad for making Rhys worry. “No, nothing like that. But I still can’t come.”

“What can I do to make it easier for you?” Rhys tries again. “New Year’s isn’t the same without all of my family in one place.”

Cassian snorts. “Come over to my place then.” He says it half-jokingly, but then Rhys doesn’t answer, as if he’s thinking.

“The gala guest list is too big to fit in the cabin…” he ponders. “But I guess I could have it narrowed down at the last minute. The Mayfairs certainly won’t be happy about it, though.”

Cassian’s eyes widen, and he looks over at Nesta’s sleeping form. “Uh…” He scrambles for something to get him out of this.

“New Year’s at a luxury cabin, all of us reuniting at your home for the first time in months? I love it,” Rhys declares. “Better than fucking Denver, that’s for sure.”

Cassian coughs, then covers it up with a forced chuckle. “I’ll have the place ready by next week.”

The call is over before he knows it, and all he can do is stare at the phone in his hand wondering what the hell just happened.

You didn’t entirely lose, he thinks to himself. You’re spending New Year’s with Nesta.

Yeah—New Year’s with Nesta and his entire family. He drops his head back against the couch and groans quietly.

***

Nesta wakes up late in the afternoon to Cassian presenting her with a mug of eggnog and bad news about New Year’s Eve.

The idea of another party, especially one with her sisters present, so soon after the last one makes Nesta’s very bones ache. But she supposes she’ll just have to take the next week to recover and prepare, because she isn’t missing out on a holiday with Cassian for anything.

The way she’s started romanticizing simple things like the new year should probably alarm her, but it doesn’t.

They sit down to open presents with the TV playing lowly in the background. It’s nothing serious, and Nesta isn’t expecting to get anything much until she unwraps her present.

It’s a vinyl record packaged in an elaborate sleeve with the words Nesta’s Mix etched across it. She slowly pulls the record out of the sleeve, staring at it. “What’s this?”

“It’s called a vinyl.”

She spears him with a look. “I got that. What’s on it?”

Cassian turns sheepish, sprawled out across from her on the carpet. “I stalked your Spotify to figure out what you listen to. Then I made a playlist based off what I thought you’d like and got it turned into vinyl. It’s all new music…” He trails off at the look on her face. “But if you hate it, the B-side has your favorite songs on there. You can listen to it either way.”

“I don’t hate it.” Nesta blinks her burning eyes rapidly, staring down at the gift in her hands. She’s not used to receiving thoughtful gifts—or pricey ones. “Thank you,” she says plainly, trying to let her feelings speak for themselves in those two words. “I love it.” She knows she should be saying more, damn it, but what can she say?

Cassian reaches out to put a hand on her knee, his thumb stroking circles across her leg. She looks up at him and realizes she doesn’t need words. Leaning forward, she lands a kiss on his cheek and can only hope that it’s sufficient. “Where am I going to play it?” she asks.

“I was close to getting you a record player when I remembered I already have one. I’ve never used it in my life.” He looks at her more gently now. “So it’s basically yours.”

Nesta’s chest tightens painfully. Not because he’s giving the record player to her, but because he’s suggesting they own it together.

“My present is going to look so stupid next to yours,” she says quietly.

Cassian grins. “Now I really need to see it.”

Nesta buries her head in her hands in humiliation while he tears open the wrapping paper of his gift, and only looks up when she hears him laugh aloud.

He’s holding a copy of one of Nesta’s favorite romances, and the first of many of her books that he’s ever stolen from her and read. He turns the vintage paperback around in his hands. “I remember this one. I totally had a sex dream about it.” He gazes in reminiscence at the busty blonde on the cover.

Nesta snorts, but scoots closer to him eagerly. “Look inside.”

He flips it open to find dark scribbles along the margins, in every single margin.

“I annotated it,” Nesta says hesitantly. “With my thoughts and analysis on each scene. It’s probably dumb to critically analyze a ninetie’s erotica novel, but I thought you’d find it funny.”

Cassian is flipping through the pages more slowly now, taking his time to read each one. “I don’t think it’s funny,” he says after a moment, his eyes still on the book. “I think it’s more than anything I could have asked for.”

“Well, that’s a bit dramatic for a romance book—”

“Not the book.” He looks up at her with something in his eyes. “It’s all your thoughts.” He looks back at the book in wonder. “Written out for me in detail to keep.”

He starts to smirk, searching for a specific page. “I already know how you feel about the boat scene, but now I need to read about it.”

Nesta makes a noise of protest, grabbing for the book. “Don’t spoil the good parts yet.” She can hardly believe it. He finds her joke present good. “You always spoil the good parts first and get sad about it later.”

He makes a face. “True.” He lowers the book, growing serious. “Nesta.” He clears his throat, and her heart starts pounding. She can hear the words before he says them—

“You’re a really good gift giver.”

Nesta’s breath shudders out of her, in relief or disappointment she doesn’t know. Cassian is still staring at her in amazement, and she can only respond by throwing herself at him, her arms holding him tight.

He doesn’t falter under her weight, but pulls her closer. “Thank you,” he says into her ear.

She pulls back far enough to see him. His beautiful face is outlined with too many emotions for her to read, yet somehow she knows exactly what he’s feeling.

Overwhelmed, she leans in to place a soft kiss above his upper lip, then on his mouth. “Merry Christmas,” she whispers against his lips.

“Merry Christmas, Nesta.”

***

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ub-sessed · 3 years

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I wrote this little essay to post on Facebook. I'm posting it here first to psych myself up:

One year ago today I got my first tattoo: Þæs ofereode þisses swa mæg.

Holy shit, what a year it’s been.

Many of you may know that I’ve been sick for the past several months. I haven’t talked about it on here because until just a couple of weeks ago I didn’t have a diagnosis, and I couldn’t explain to people what was wrong with me: I didn’t know. (For people who are worrying: I’m fine now! Well, that’s not entirely true. But I am a lot better.)

At about 2 o’clock on the morning of July 30, 2021, I got up to go to the bathroom. On the way there I got so violently dizzy that I barely made it to the sink before puking my guts out. I tried to walk the nine feet to C’s room to get help, but I was so dizzy that even holding on to the wainscoting I fell down in the hallway vomiting. I managed to stretch out on the floor to knock on C’s door and tell her to get her father. The two of them had to practically carry me back to my bed. Anti-emetics didn’t help: I just threw them up. I couldn’t even sit up in bed without puking. I couldn’t open my eyes, because when I did everything was flying around like I was trapped inside a snowglobe being shaken by a very angry toddler.

I spent four days lying perfectly still on my side with my eyes closed, drinking watered-down orange juice out of a sippy cup and eating crushed up potato chips out of a bowl that was sitting on the bed in front of my face. I couldn’t talk for more than a couple of minutes at a time because the vibrations of my voice made me dizzy. C had to bring me to the bathroom in a wheelchair while I held my head in my hands to keep the world from flying off. Just rolling over the doorframe was such a jolt that I would cry out every time, even though I knew it was coming.

I spent three weeks in a wheelchair. I spent six months walking with a cane. I spent five months unable to read for more than a few minutes because the words jumped around too much. I would gradually improve over the course of a couple weeks and think I was getting better, only to get dramatically worse again. The doctors had told me that I would recover in a few weeks, but that just wasn’t happening. After several months I finally managed to get an appointment with an ENT, then waited to get tests, and then waited some more for the test results, which I finally got on January 18.

It turns out I have vestibular neuritis. If you look this up on the Internet, you will read that it usually goes away after about a month, but my ENT says that cases as severe as mine are actually not unexpected in people my age. He says it could take me another six months to recover completely… or I might never recover completely. Apparently a virus damaged the vestibular nerve in my right ear (this is the nerve that tells your brain which way is up and which way you’re moving), and although it is healing, nerves heal very slowly, and it might never heal all the way.

I can now walk in a straight line, most of the time. (I still use a cane when I leave the house just so people don’t think I’m a drunk person: sometimes I stagger a bit or start walking in a completely unexpected direction.) I am not nauseous, most of the time. (I still can’t watch anything with a lot of camera movement without feeling puky.) I can read, pretty much. (My eyes still jerk around randomly, which means I lose my place a lot, and it’s very difficult to focus on details.) I still get tired easily and often just zone out, like my eyes and brain just want a break.

Given that I earn my living by watching camera movement, reading and re-reading scripts, rapidly processing huge amounts of information, and having a preternaturally good eye for detail, you can understand why I couldn’t bring myself to discuss my condition here where all of my colleagues (and potential clients) could see.

But now that I have a diagnosis and have begun rehabilitation exercises, I’ve decided to stop hiding. I still don’t know what to expect. There is still a lot that I don’t understand about vestibular neuritis. I don’t know how long it will take me to get back to where I was. I don’t know if my body will ever get to the point where it can handle the long days, intense stress and massive sleep deprivation of working in television. (Apparently these things can cause your brain to temporarily “decompensate”, i.e. unlearn the workarounds that it has built to compensate for the damaged nerve.)

So it’s been a rough six months. I have missed being on set, I have missed my colleagues, I have missed feeling a part of creating something bigger than me. I have missed having an income! I have missed feeling competent and capable. I have missed being able to go out and do things. I have tried very hard to live in the moment and not worry about the future, because the thought of losing the career that is one of my main sources of joy, satisfaction, income and self-worth is terrifying.

A year ago I got a tattoo that says “Þæs ofereode þisses swa mæg”. This is from a 10th-century Old English poem by a bard named Deor, lamenting that he has lost his job as court minstrel. It can’t be translated directly, but basically it means, “That passed, so may this.” It’s an ambiguous statement, which means both “This may pass” and “May this pass.”

Deor doesn’t know if his troubles will end. He really fucking wants them to, but he doesn’t know. He is simultaneously accepting that he doesn’t know what the future will bring, and hoping anyway that the future will be better.

#vestibular neuritis #tattoo #deor #deor's lament #my tattoo #my photo #please let me know if you see any typos!

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thran-duils · 3 years

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Lost in Zero Gravity (P.22)

Title: Lost In Zero Gravity (Part Twenty Two) Summary: Fem!Reader x Mob Boss!Tony Stark x Mob Boss!Steve Rogers. Reader is a call girl who runs high end parties. She catches the attention of Tony Stark who invites her back to his room with his friend. She might have performed too well because she becomes their new favorite play toy and they don’t like to share. Words: 2,519 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Smut, prostitution, infidelity, angst, domestic violence, stalking, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Twenty One || Part Twenty Three || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Sullen, you walked out of the bathroom. Luna had started scratching, luring you out of the bathroom, and she bolted in past you towards her litter box. You had been in the bathroom for almost a half hour, crying over the test you had been clenching in your hands. You had eventually tossed it into the waste bin, closing the lid so you did not have to look at it anymore. But it did not erase the fact you knew you were pregnant.

The apartment was quiet and you wondered if you were alone but coming out of the hall, you saw the balcony door was open, the curtains moving gently in the breeze. Tony was sitting out on the balcony in one of the new patio chairs that had been bought for the new space. He heard you shuffle in and turned his head. His hand was gripping the short glass tightly — almost empty of the amber liquid. The bottle was sitting next to him on the small table.

You stopped in the doorframe and his eyes ran over you, remorse in his expression.

“I’d offer you some but...” Tony said, stiffly holding his glass up briefly, trying to joke but it fell flat under the weight of the situation.

Tossing your hands out defeated, you asked tearfully, “How… why would he…”

“What do you want to do?” Tony asked, sincerely.

He sounded genuine, like he meant it that he wanted your opinion. The first time he had ever asked you to have control over a choice had to be this.

“I don’t know,” you told him, sniffling. Wiping at your eyes, you asked, “Have you spoken to him?”

Tony let out a wry laugh and said, “’Spoken’ would be a very loose term.” He saw you were looking at him expectantly and he offered, “I saw him last week. The same day you got moved. We fought. Badly. I actually suited up.” Your eyes widened. “I can’t take him hand to hand without it. I provoked him though so what else should I have expected?”

“What do you mean ‘provoked’?”

“I was furious about what he’d done and I made some snide remark about how he never seems to be able to be sure he’s the dad. It was… warranted but it wasn’t helpful. In hindsight, I mean.”

“So, you haven’t told him that I’m pregnant. That’s what I’m asking.”

“No,” Tony said quickly, his eyes stern, locked with yours. “No. I am not going to do that. You think he’s been bad? If he found out that, I don’t want to think about what lengths he would go to. I can tell you exactly what I think you should do and that’s making an appointment, terminating, and not telling him about it at all. But… what do you want?”

He watched you intently and you finally said, “I need some time.”

It looked like that was not what he wanted to hear but he said nothing, just taking another drink, finishing off his scotch. His phone buzzed and he looked over lazily. He rolled his eyes and opened up the bottle again.

Knowing the answer before you even asked, “Steve?”

“Mhmm,” Tony answered, pouring himself another small glass. He twisted the cap back on and picked up his glass. “He must have visited the apartment and realized you’re not there. I’m surprised he waited a whole week with how angry he was when I saw him last.”

“I suppose I should just go turn my phone off because I don’t want him blowing me up,” you muttered, turning and walking back into the apartment.

<><><>

You had taken the day to figure out what you thought was best and even if it still felt a little rash, you felt confident that you could get the upper hand. Closing the bedroom door, you went and sat on the edge of your bed. Tony was working on his laptop in the kitchen with his headphones in. There was little risk he was going to overhear the conversation you were about to have.

“Where are you?” Steve answered tightly.

“Good morning to you too,” you replied coolly. “I think you know why I’m calling.”

“I have an idea. Look, Y/N. I can get that you feel a little shook up by what happened but—"

You interjected forcibly, “Why did you do it?”

He hated being interrupted, especially by you. And you heard it in his rigid tone, “Do what? Take you on the mission? Not tell you beforehand. You’re going to have to be clearer.”

At least he was aware he had fucked up multiple times. But he was not talking about his most egregious fault to date.

“My birth control. Why do you want me pregnant?”

It was quiet for a beat before Steve let out a scornful laugh. “Ah. So, Tony did say something. Bastard couldn’t keep it to himself.”

“Well, it does involve him pretty intimately!” you snapped. “You didn’t just fuck me over, you could have fucked him over too.”

Steve sounded a little breathless when he asked, “Are you...”

You detected an uptick in his voice; he sounded hopeful. And you wanted to sock him for it.

Not answering him directly, you inquired, “What if it’s yours? What then?” You could hear him breathing and you pressed when he did not answer quick enough, “What then, Steve?”

“If it’s mine and my wife’s isn’t mine, then I want it. I want my child.”

That is what you thought he was going to say and you played your card, “What do I get?”

Chuckling, Steve asked, “Bargaining, are you?”

“Seems I have the power to do so potentially. So, if it’s yours and you want it, I want you to buy me out. I don’t want to owe you anymore.”

“You talk to Tony about that?”

“I mean half Steve. The half you have invested. Don’t worry about Tony and I.”

“You still want to be with him,” Steve mused. He sounded dejected; you had wounded his ego and that was apparent. But what else did he expect with how he had treated you?

“Do you agree?” you asked ignoring what he said.

It sounded like it took everything in him to say the words; like he said it through gritted teeth. “Fine. I’ll pay you out.”

“And if it isn’t yours? Tony doesn’t want another kid. And I can’t get tested until nine weeks for paternity and it takes ten to fourteen days to get results. I would need an appointment made shortly after. To terminate, I mean.”

Steve was quick to answer, sounding sour. “Tony’s got connections.”

“You’ve got connections. This is your mess.” Steve was silent and you pressed, “I’m only going to agree if you agree to pay me out either way it lands. You owe me that. You betrayed me—“

Steve started to laugh, scornfully saying, “Betrayed. Do you hear your—“

You cut in forcibly, having a lot bigger confidence being on the phone and not having him tower over you, although you were shaking from nervousness still, “And you guarantee an appointment for termination if it’s Tony’s and not yours.”

“You might not even have to wait for the 9 weeks,” Steve said. “My wifes got an appointment in three days. I can order a test for her. If it’s mine, then you’re off the hook.”

‘Off the hook’, you thought to yourself angrily. Like it was a light thing you were discussing.

“If it’s yours, Steve, and I go through with this, I want it in writing. Legal. All of it.” You made yourself sound as threatening as you could.

“Man, you are learning very quickly. It’s impressive really. Where do you want me to send the document to?”

He was trying to be clever and figure out where you were. Get you to slip up in your emotions.

“Nice try. Tony doesn’t even know I’m calling you.”

“Hmm. He wants to keep you hidden away then. Classic Tony. He doesn’t like sharing; he was a spoiled, only child.”

“Or maybe he’s pissed at how you treated me,” you snapped, annoyed he was acting like Tony had done what he had out of left field.

“Right. Ticked off protective daddy. What do you think his endgame is? With you, I mean, dove.” The nickname made your skin crawl now. “Do you think he’s going to continuing pampering you? Forever? Tony gets bored quickly.”

You were not here to play mind games with him, and you were not going to rise to his bait. You were fighting one battle at a time, and he was yours right now.

“Look, I’ll talk to him,” you said, wanting to end the conversation. “You can give it to him at the facility.”

“Cause him and I seeing each other went so well last time,” Steve chuckled, and you knew he was referring to what Tony had told you about their physical altercation. “Fine. Work your magic on him. I doubt he’ll tell you no though cause he can’t deny you anything.” You gritted your teeth at his bitter tone. Steve tried another angle, “You really won’t even meet me in public?”

“No. One, because I know you’ll probably try to follow me and secondly, I don’t want to see you. Not after what you did at the docks and now this.”

Steve exhaled sharply and his tone made your skin crawl with apprehension at its ferociousness, “If you are carrying my child, Y/N, you need to see me. I will be around. I want—“

“You’ll want what? To have access to me?”

“You’re damn right. To check in.”

“I can take care of myself,” you said, fighting to keep your voice even.

“I don’t trust that!” Steve snapped. “You – or fucking Tony – won’t keep me away entirely. I won’t stand for it. I’ll be at the doctor appointments. I won’t budge on that, Y/N. I deserve to be there.”

You bit your cheeks, your mind racing. You had not anticipated him wanting to be around like that. You thought you could go through the pregnancy and give him the child at the end. It seemed he was not going to make it that easy.

“Y/N?”

“Fine. If it’s yours. Doctor appointments. But that’s it.”

“Good. Glad you fucking understand. I’ll be in touch,” Steve said tersely before hanging up without saying goodbye.

<><><>

Steve was fuming when he hung the phone up. She was getting mouthy, and he hated she was dangling it over his head like she was. He had planted the idea though, her paying off her debt. She had found a way to get him by the balls and he had to play the game.

He let out a shout, kicking the waste basket by his desk, sending it careening into the wall.

<><><>

Chewing your salad, you shot a look at Tony across the table. He was eating while he was working on a hologram. You had gotten off the phone with Steve and hour ago and made up a chicken salad for the pair of you. You had been quiet while Tony worked – he had a problem of stepping away when he was set on something – but you needed to confess because you needed him for this to work out.

You swallowed your bite and said bluntly, “I spoke with Steve.”

Tony stopped chewing and snapped his gaze up to you. He asked with a full mouth, “Excuse me?”

Twirling your fork around, you admitted, “I called him. He wasn’t here at the apartment. Obviously. You were here. You would have known if he was.”

He swallowed his food now, tossing his fork into the bowl, and then demanded, “Why?” He actually turned off the hologram. Apparently you could pry his attention away with the right motivator.

You met his eyes and said, “I wanted to hear it from him. Why he did it. And he told me...” you paused before saying, “And I wanted to know what my stakes are.”

“‘Stakes’?”

“Yeah. Like what if it is his? What happens? And what do I get for carrying it for him?”

Tony’s expression pulled a 180 from confused to irritated. “Y/N, you can’t think—“

“I can think, actually,” you cut in harshly. “Very well too sometimes. He’s gonna pay me out of his half of the contract he said if I carry to term. Regardless of if it’s his. If it’s yours, he’s gonna set up an appointment to terminate. I’ll be free of him either way.”

“Free of him...”

“I don’t want him touching me ever again.”

Tony relaxed if only for a second at your admission, but the moment was brief. Exasperated, he argued, “I fully heartedly understand that, love. Believe me, I do. But... you can’t expect him to keep his word. He wouldn’t do it for me and —"

“He will keep his word, but I need your help. He is going to get a legal document done up about it. All the terms, if it is his.” Tony looked shocked. “I would.... really appreciate it if you would grab it from him and also make sure it’s legit. I don’t want loopholes.”

Tony ground his teeth, looking pensive. “I’m gonna regret this.”

<><><>

“And the paternity test you ordered,” the doctor said, finishing listing off the things they would be going through during the appointment.

Cecile’s head snapped to Steve, who looked unperturbed. As he should since he had called the office himself to add it to the appointment. She was unnerved. “Paternity... Steve, you said you were waiting until after the baby is born!”

“I want it done now,” he returned dryly, meeting her eyes. She opened her mouth to protest, and he told her sharply. “This isn’t a discussion, Cecile.”

Cecile reluctantly closed her mouth, and the doctor went on, acting as if nothing had happened — he was on Steve’s payroll after all —, “It takes ten to fourteen days for results, Mr. Rogers. But I’ll make sure it’s done in ten for you.”

“I’m aware. And thank you for that,” Steve responded. He tossed a look at Cecile, finding her looking down at her stomach, gripping it possessively. He felt sick satisfaction seeing the worry etched in her features. He loved her so damn much and for the first time in a while, he felt like he had control over her again.

<><><>

You were sitting in one of the patio chairs, sunglasses on, relaxing in the early spring weather. It was still chilly, so you had a sweater on, but you were content.

Your phone drug you from your thoughts and you turned your head to look over at the small table beside your chair. Your stomach clenched seeing that Steve was calling. This was it. You shot a look back inside, seeing Tony snoozing on the couch with Luna. You got up quickly and closed the patio door before answering the phone with a quick hello.

“It’s not mine,” Steve greeted you.

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night @woohoney

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers #dark marvel #my shit

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wonderofwillows2 · 3 years

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A Minor Thing

It’s hard to describe the how you felt when you were young, especially hard to do it accurately. It’s enough of challenge sometimes to describe how you feel now. So without further ornamentation I suppose I’d better get on with it here. My father met my step-mother when I was only nine. My oldest sister was twelve my other eleven. They were happy for him, happy he was kind to her and happy she was kind to him. I was just happy to have a mother, there was something about having a woman’s voice in my young life that soothed a deep seated need. I loved the high and lilting songs she sang in her native language, the sweetness of the words that always seemed hover just that evanescent bit longer when they ended in a vowel. I loved the colorful clothes she wore and the high spicy notes of the new food she cooked for us.

It was two years later than they had the wedding, our family was small as my father was a bit older and his parents modern. Hers was vast, she had seven brothers and they all joked about their baby sister growing up even though she was thirty-six, an age I still can’t imagine myself as I write this. They claimed it was long overdue that she marry, her mother claimed so also and was glad she’d have grandchildren. It was an obvious point of pain that their daughter, our step-mother, could not conceive on her own. Her mother and father were both adamant that we would join the faith but she and her brothers interceded on our behalf. The wedding was a dry, but that didn’t affect me, I was drunk instead on the stories my new uncles told of a seemingly free and idyllic childhoods spent chasing one another through twisting streets and burdening the adults they met. There was no honeymoon, both claimed to be too old for that. Instead a few days after the wedding my father and new mother went to out for nearly a day and my father spent a few days out of work. It seemed he was in some pain. I thought nothing of it until a few weeks later. That was when they explained to me that there was one holdover of my new mother’s culture she could compromise on. My father had been circumcised. It was a practice I had never heard of and I asked them, in my innocence, what they meant by that new and strange term. My mother took the lead then and leaned close to me and took my hands in her own. They were soft and surprisingly warm as if she’d been wringing them in the anticipation of a difficult but necessary task, the kind so often avoided until it was doubtlessly time to undertake it.

She explained to me then, in her calmest voice, an almost tense voice of thinly veiled energy, that in her culture young men have their foreskins removed. She explained that it was cleaner, that it was harmless, that it was an act of beautification and health. My father then interjected that while it was not part of our own culture he had no regrets at such a small change. He placed his arm around her and looked me in the eye as he told me he had no regrets, that it really was a small thing to please her and how worth it it was to please my new mother who he loved so deeply and certainly. He explained also how she’d asked him to have this minor surgery if they were married and how he’d nearly abandoned the prospect but decided to go through with it. It was then my new mother shocked me, her sweet voice almost breaking with nervous awareness, that she had asked to have me circumcised as well. I processed this slowly and then with fear and looked to my father but he maintained a stoic silence and I new I would undergo this treatment. I would be cut in two weeks time. It is said anticipation of the thing is greater or worse in some measure than the thing itself. I am not sure of that myself but I can say those two weeks were spent in fear. Worse yet they were spent with my sisters knowing my impending fate. My mother had made sure to announce it to them and in front of me as well. They had been shocked themselves then curious, asking a flurry of questions to our new mother. She silenced them then but made sure to mention she’d explain more in private. She did not think it appropriate to cover the topic with me present. It was an objectification I would never quite get over. I was not to be privileged by her explanation, I was only to have my father’s for the time being and he was difficult to pry information from. He would merely tell me what a small matter it was, how little I should worry. Perhaps it was a happy thing that I was only just discovering the pleasant sensation my foreskin could give me, I might have missed it more then

My sisters were quite around me for the next few days sharing only greetings and giggling between themselves. Though they had always done this it felt like it was always about my looming appointment. I once overheard them call it a “penis trim” and then laugh short stifled little laughs. That hurt me to the point of tears and I cried in my room to avoid them. I once asked my mother if the girls would have to have any special treatments or surgeries. She simply assured me that girls were pure and clean, that there was no need to change them at all. I burst then and yelled in indignation that I was fine too, that my father was fine, we did not need to change. She barely reacted then, she merely paused then turned maternal and assured me it would be better to be cut, I’d be better than the other boys then. She ended the conversation then with a stern admonition that I should be brave and just accept my cutting, that all her brothers were done and they were fine. I dropped the conversation then.

The day before my cutting I was advised by her not to eat or drink that night. It was a brief but unpleasant fast. My parents were strict in watching me, my sisters in contrast to their previous behavior were kind and offered supportive words. My oldest sister, now a teenage offered that she had looked up what would be done to me and that she thought that circumcised penises were much nicer and that it would be good to be cleaner. She even went so far as to say she was sorry she would not get to meet more boys who were cut but that she might try to do so in the future. My other sister agreed they were nicer but also offered most girls would find it a nice surprise. This was little consolation and I cried then and begged them to intercede on my behalf. They held me and then said just to accept things. Our mother had explained it all and it would be better.

The next morning I was awakened by my father who advised me calmly but firmly to dress in athletic clothes and come downstairs, my sisters were to sleep through the whole affair. My mother waited dressed in her finer street clothes, she smiled and asked if I was excited. I could only mumble that I was frightened. She told me she knew I would be brave but her demeanor suggested it was a command as opposed to statement. It was not long before we were off. We rarely drove much as my parents took the bus to work but that day we took the car to the clinic. It was a small unassuming building of brown brick and marked only by a small sign. We parked and got out, my parents walked with me towards the building. It felt like a monumental structure though in reality I doubt it had more than six rooms. The name on the sign in the front seemed to be one from my mother’s homeland. I had no doubt it was her choice.

When we entered we were greeted by a receptionist in clothes like my mother’s. They spoke in my mother’s native tongue, her voice still so pleasant and sweet. It seemed they knew one another and there was even a bit of laughter exchanged after a pause where both looked at me. I felt once more like the mere subject of another person’s whims and felt then what I only now can identify as a feeling of diminishment. I never wanted to feel that way again. My father was silent the whole time, he seemed far away as if he were imagining another place. Eventually we were called and my mother and father walked with me to the room. I was made to undress and dawn a robe. A young woman native to my own country came in and took my vital signs, height, and weight. She and my mother chatted briefly in my language. She seemed indifferent to my plight. I thought she might raise a point against my forced acculturation but she said nothing. Finally the doctor came into the room, he was an older man – probably in his late fifties with a snow white beard. He spoke to my mother in my native language. Then in my own he advised me lie back and relax. It was then the nurse returned with some a cup of water and a pill. I was advised to swallow it and did so. The effect was profound and I soon found my anxiety at the whole thing abating though it seems likely that it affected my memory to as things soon started to blur at that point. My mother told me I was lucky, many boys in her country had no pain killers or pills. She told me to be brave. They all left for a few minute and I heard them speaking nearby though I didn’t terribly care about what. Only the doctor and nurse returned then, with a tray of tools. They moved a screen over my midsection. I felt the cold of the numbing agent then the pain of three shots. They left again and returned a bit later. They tested my sensation and asked if I felt pain, I told them I did not. The they went to work. The process was short I barely remember it, only the shock when they moved the curtain and a clear plastic ring was bonded to my penis behind the now bare glans. I felt no fear then due to the medicine. I only felt shocked.

I dressed and then left the room and was greeted by my smiling mother who hugged me and told me I was brave. We returned to the waiting room and the doctor invited my parents into his office. They returned with some papers and a small bag and we left and returned home. It was only at night the pain started but it was manageable. I refused stubbornly to show I was affected though I think it was naive to believe it did not show. My sisters were especially kind to me in those few days. It felt like a dream to me. I suppose that is a blessing as it lessened the humiliation of my mother and father checking my wound before I bathed. The rest of that week was spend with mild pain and itching. School was difficult then but I got through it. The next week the ring fell off and I was confronted by my new penis in its singular form. It seemed so naked and vulnerable encircled by the bright red line just behind the glans. The skin was tight and the glans a deep and unhappy mauve. I was acutely aware of the glans rubbing the fabric of my clothes. I hated my new penis then, I felt ashamed when I saw it. I felt like I would always be less of a man though my mother claimed I could now be one, that it was the skin that was boyish. The same week we returned to the same clinic for a check. The doctor happily pronounced me to be healing well. My mother was happy and my father relieved. I was told then I no longer had to bathe as carefully and could return to sports the week after. It was a relief that I could have at least some normality again. On the way out my mother and the receptionist spoke again, then looked at me and giggled girlishly. It was only when we got home and my parents were out of the room that my oldest sister informed me that the rim of my glans, my corona, was visible through the thin athletic pants I had worn. I felt utterly humiliated then

As time wore on I healed completely and began to grow up in a literal sense. I hit mu growth spurt and my voice deepened. I was proud of my new need for deodorant and tiny excuse for a mustache that graced my upper lip. My penis grew too and I began to get frequent erections. They were tight to the point of nearly being painful but this soon subsided. I learned also that my penis provided new unknown pleasures though something always seemed a bit off, like there was just a tinge of pain when I played with my bare glans. It didn’t stop me but I soon discovered through conversations at school that I needed lubricants to get the same from my self pleasure that the other boys did. It was one of the few time that I recalled my circumcision and truly thought about it. I delved into researching the topic and learned that my own glans, and my father’s, had likely been desensitized by our surgeries. The fact that it was very little was not comfort and I wondered how such a thing could be called “small” or “cosmetic”. I once raise my concerns with my step-mother, she merely laughed and admonished me for my greed. She told me men get plenty of pleasure. I raised my concerns with my father and he merely told me there was no undoing what was done.

It was another year and a half before I met my first girlfriend. She was a friend of my middle sister and a bit younger than her but still older than me and more experienced. I was not her first and she delighted in the comparison between my penis and that of the other boys she knew. She liked the look of it and claimed it was much prettier than the others and said she cut her own sons. I do not know if she was serious. I had my first experience at oral sex with her and she claimed she much preferred to perform the act on me as she had easy access to the glans with no skin to move. I was happy enough then to be cut. I supposed it was not so bad. I did not learn until a bit later that part of my intrigue to her was that she had learned I was cut from my sister. I would have been upset had I learned before hand and was glad I did not. I soon learned a few who knew my sister were similarly interested and I wonder if she had intentionally promoted me as a learning experience. I asked her about sharing the information but she simply played coy and apologized, saying it had “just slipped out.

So now as I look back, ready to graduate college, I think It was best that I was cut. It is true it cuts down a bit on my pleasure but the women I have known were always pleasantly surprised by my penis. My current fiancee is from the United States where I learned that male circumcision is a normal practice. I was surprised by that but happy at her happiness. She told me she did prefer cut men and would have insisted I have the surgery if I were not. I suppose it is a strange confluence of events that I would wind up in a situation so similar to my own father’s. I would never have guessed it, or that one day I might well consent to cut my own son at my wife’s request. There is no moral to this, it is only a recounting of events. However those events are ones that have influenced me for my whole life, I still feel a tinge of powerlessness from time to time and I still feel the humiliating sting of first seeing my altered penis. My step-mother – my mother – is so fond of my fiancee, I suppose in the end my circumcision was really for her all along. I’ll never ask of course but I’ll always believe it was more than just a cultural preference that led to my father and I being cut.

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thefuzzydarkness · 3 years

Text

(Hello! I've wanted to write an enemies to lovers style story for a while now so here you go! I really hope you enjoy it!)

He glanced down at his phone. It was 7 am which gave him about an hour before work. He flicked off the TV and went about trying to find some breakfast. The pantry didn't yield many results but he did manage to find two packets of apples and cinnamon oatmeal. Honestly he never bought breakfast stuff because he didn't usually get up in time to eat it. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. After heating that up along with a small cup of coffee he sat on his couch and took out his phone. "Let's see who's on the schedule for today. Ok me, Darrell, Michelle, and…. Lexi." He hated Lexi. They had gone to high school together and she was the single most annoying student in his entire graduating class. When she had first been hired on he'd asked Michelle to please try and not put them on shifts together. Michelle did try but sometimes it couldn't be helped. He finished his oatmeal and downed his coffee already in a bad mood. Twenty minutes later he was showered, dressed, and on the road. He technically could've walked to work, as it was only a couple blocks away, but today he decided to drive. He didn't want to chance Lexi asking to walk home with him. It seemed like she just couldn't take a hint. Always asking him questions and acting like they were such good friends in high school when that couldn't be further from the truth. He parked and walked over to the door. The lights were still off and the door was locked. He checked his phone again and realized he was still fifteen minutes early. He sighed and sat down on one of the benches outside. He wasn't two minutes into a youtube video when Lexi walked up. "Great" he thought "she can't even wait till we're on the clock." He braced for impact, expecting her to sit next to him and make small talk in her annoyingly high pitched voice but she didn't. She just gave him a small wave and sat down on the bench across from him. She was wearing a sweater and leggings instead of her usual tank top and overalls combo. She had her hair in a messy bun and her face was pale. She untied a hoodie from around her waist and used it as a pillow against the wall. He stared at her bewildered for a second, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He pressed play on his video and continued watching it until Michelle unlocked the front doors. "Hey guys! Thanks for getting here so early! Darrell had to take his mom to a doctor's appointment so it'll just be the three of us for an hour or two. Lexi I want you on the register and Tyler I want you to reshelve all of the stuff from yesterday." Lexi shook her head " Actually would you mind if I reshelved today?" They both looked at her surprised. Lexi always asked to be on the register. "Uh yeah I guess as long as that's ok with you Tyler." He shrugged "Whatever, I don't care either way." Michelle nodded "Then I'm going to open the register." He made a mental note to keep an eye on Lexi. Something was up with her and he was going to figure out what. He put his lunch in the store room fridge and grabbed his vest from the rack. It'd been a long time since he'd worked the register but he'd manage. The first hour was rather uneventful. He'd cleaned the front counter, swept, and made sure the displays were all in order and now he was...bored. Only a handful of customers would come in before school let out and until then all he could do was stand there. He was trying to balance three books on his head when Darrell walked in. "Hey! What's going on?"

"Not much. What's going on with you circus boy?"

"Oh you know acrobatics, juggling, the whole nine yards." Darrell smiled

"Hey what are you doing up here anyway?"

"Lexi asked to do the reshelving today so I got stuck up here."

"Wait, she asked to do the reshelving? You usually can't force her to do it let alone have her volunteer."

"I know but that's what happened."

"Weird? Anyway, do you know where Michelle is? I need to figure out what I'm doing today."

"She's in the office."

With that Darrell walked away and Tyler went back to his balancing act. Not five minutes later Darrell was back.

"Hey Michelle needs you to help Lexi reshelve that stuff. She wants me to take over up here."

"Aw come on man can't you do it?"

" Well I could but Michelle said you and well...I don't wanna."

He sighed "Fine whatever but I'm putting my headphones in. I can't listen to her voice all day."

"Whatever boats your float pal. I'll be up here." Darrell put his feet up on the desk as Tyler stomped back to the store room. Why would Michelle ask HIM to come back here? She knows how he feels about Lexi. He threw open the door and was surprised to see Lexi blowing her nose into a well used tissue. Her pale face now had a bright red nose in the middle of it. She was sitting on the floor, books and tissues scattered around her, using her hoodie as a makeshift blanket. She looked up at him like she was about to say something but started coughing instead. It sounded wet and harsh. Well at least now he knew why she was acting so weird this morning. He knelt down beside her and before he could stop himself he had his hand on her forehead. She nuzzled her head into his cold hand and smiled. She had a fever, and a pretty high one at that.

"How long have you been like this?"

"It started yesterday. I didn't start really feeling bad until I was already here and by then it was too late to call in." Her voice sounded like it could go any minute and she was shivering. He took off his jacket and put it over her legs. She smiled and nodded in appreciation, just before her head jerked forward "hhehITSHichu hhehITSHICHU" She sniffled and Tyler handed her a roll of paper towels from the cleaning supply cart. She blew her nose again for what felt like a full minute to Tyler and even then it didn't seem to help her much. He was now facing an internal dilemma. Even though he despised Lexi he didn't think he could leave her like this. No one deserved to suffer this much, not even her.

"Look if you want I'll reshelve the stuff for today and you can go home." She looked at him curiously "You would do that for me? I thought you didn't like me?"

"I'd do that for anybody. Besides fat lotta help you'd be. I doubt you can even stand up by yourself let alone help with all this. Now go tell Michelle you're leaving before I change my mind."

She smiled at him "Thank you Tyler I really...hhehitshichu *snf* appreciate it."

"Don't mention it...really don't and bless you by the way." She tried to push herself up and ended up falling forward holding her head. The pressure in her sinuses was crushing. Tyler sighed "I guess you'll need a ride huh?" She nodded and started coughing again. Tyler rubbed her back as she slowly started to breathe normally.

"Stay right here. I'll ask Michelle if I can drive you home real quick and come back okay?"

"Okay."

With that he walked over to Michelle's office and knocked on the door.

"Yes, come in. What can I do for you?"

"Well I was wondering if you and Darrell could handle things on your own for a minute. Lexi's really sick and I was gonna drive her home."

"Really sick? Poor thing, what's wrong?"

"Coughing, sneezing, fever, I found her on the floor of the store room shivering. I don't think she can stand up for too long." Michelle frowned "That sounds pretty bad. Tell you what things looks like things will be pretty slow here for the day. Why don't you take the rest of the day off and stay with her just to make sure she's alright?" Tyler's eyes widened. He didn't want to drive her home in the first place and stay with her?! Out of the question. But then again it'd been a long time since he'd gotten off early. Between work and school he could use a little time to himself. He could drive her there, drop her off, leave, and they would be none the wiser. He smiled to himself "Yeah boss I can do that." Michelle nodded in approval "Good now here's twenty dollars. Go to Walgreens on the way home and get that girl some medicine. Maybe some soup and tissues too." He took the money and sighed. Michelle was too sweet for her own good. Oh well an extra stop wouldn't take too long. "I can do that. I'll make sure she knows it's from you." He started to walk out "Oh and Tyler? You're a good man for doing this." He shook his head "Anybody would do this. It just happened to be me this time." With that he walked out and made his way back to the store room. He found Lexi asleep on the floor, a paper towel still held up to her nose. He hung up his vest, grabbed his car keys and her purse, and picked her up bridal style. She weighed almost nothing and he figured she'd be easier to manage if she stayed asleep. He walked out to his car. Unbeknownst to Tyler his coworkers were watching from behind the shelves. "Looks like I'll be getting my ten bucks soon." Michelle said smugly. Darrell rolled his eyes "Really? And what makes you think this is what gets them together?" Michelle's eyes twinkled as she watched Tyler gently set Lexi in the back seat of his car "I just have a feeling."

(To be continued)

#snzblr #sickfic #snz #sneeze kink

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doc-pickles · 3 years

Text

half a heart (without you)

Jo gets some unexpected news and the only person she can think to turn to is her ex husband.

hi friends, i don't have any coherent thoughts. this was a crack fic that I managed to write during our massive heat wave. s/o to mac as well for helping me out with this one. you're the best.

also, sorry I haven't updated lately I was busy birthing a human.

xoxo nina

“Okay Jo, everything looks good on the ultrasound but-“

“But what? My kid has three arms? Missing a foot? Won’t survive outside of the womb?”

Sitting up from her spot on the exam table Jo eyed Carina warily. Her 20 week appointment had come up quicker than she’d anticipated, leaving her no time to worry about the many things that could be wrong with her baby. Now though, her mind was spinning into overdrive.

“Calm down, your bambino is fine,” Carina placed her hand on top of Jo’s as she spoke. “I just noticed a small irregularity in his heart, I want to schedule a follow up appointment next week with a fetal cardiologist.”

“What kind of irregularity? Like a hole in his heart? Does he have a ventricular septal defect? Is his heart underdeveloped?”

“Relax, Jo. You need to stay calm for your little one,” Carina gave Jo a small smile, attempting to comfort her but not doing much for her own racing heart. “I’m not entirely sure if it is even something to worry about. Do you have any family history of heart issues?”

The question made Jo pause for a moment, jaw slack and eyes wide as her mind blanked. She clearly didn’t know her own family health history, but she also had no clue if there was anything on her child’s paternal side that she needed to be worried about. She’d been convinced that she could do this whole parenting thing on her own but now she was scared out of her mind and absolutely clueless on what to do next.

“Umm… I don’t think so? I don’t know,” Jo finally met Carina’s gaze again, the all too familiar pitying gaze boring into her. “I’ll check… Thanks, Carina.”

Before the other woman can say anything to her, Jo is grabbing her jacket and practically sprinting out the exam room door. Her eyes are watering as she finds an on-call room and quickly barricades herself inside.

“Oh god,” Jo pressed her hand to her small baby bump as she attempted to take deep breaths. It didn’t help though, her anxious mind spinning out as she walked forward and sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t do this… I can’t do this.”

Before she lost all of her senses Jo pulled her phone out, not even stopping long enough to second guess herself as she dialed the all too familiar number.

“Hello? Jo?”

“Do you have a family history of cardiac issues?”

“What? Are you crying,” Alex paused to listen to Jo who was still struggling to catch her breath. “Jo, what’s going on?”

“Cardiac problems! Do you have a family history or not?”

“You called me to ask about cardiology?”

“Damn it, Alex,” Jo made no effort to conceal her emotions anymore, openly sobbing now. “Do you think I would just call you and ask about this for no reason?”

“Okay, okay. Just take a breath,” Alex waited for Jo to calm down a bit before continuing. “My mom has high blood pressure but that’s about it. Oh, and I have a heart arrhythmia.”

“Are you kidding me right now?!”

“No, Cristina almost killed me once and I found out I have a slight arrhythmia. Now, will you tell me what’s going on? You’re starting to freak me out,” when Jo didn’t respond to him, Alex let a sigh out, calming his tone down as he spoke. “Jo, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

Jo sniffled, wiping at her eyes before settling her hand against her belly again, “I had a doctor's appointment today. With Carina.”

“Oh… Oh ,” Alex sucked in a breath across the line and Jo could almost see his facial expression falling as he realized exactly what she was telling him. “Are you okay? Is..”

“I don’t know,” Jo tried to hold off on crying even more, but her emotions finally got the best of her as she said out loud what she’d been fearing for the last fifteen minutes. “I don’t know, she said she saw an irregularity on my ultrasound but she doesn’t know and I’m really freaking out right now.”

Jo hated that this was how Alex had to find out about their baby, while she was in the middle of a panic attack worrying whether or not their son would be okay. She always planned on telling him but she hadn’t found the courage to pick up the phone yet. However, as soon as Carina had said something might be wrong all Jo wanted was Alex and the sense of comfort he brought her.

“Hey it’s gonna be okay, everything is going to be fine,” Alex’s calming tone helped her heart to calm a bit, but her chest still heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. “It’s gonna be okay Jo. Let me make some calls and see what I can do, okay?”

“Okay.”

Alex had texted her not even an hour after they had hung up, letting her know that he was flying into Seattle two days later. He’d told her not to worry, that he’d get a taxi back to the loft, but her anxiety had been on high alert since her appointment and now she found herself standing in the arrivals terminal bouncing on her heels as her heart beat unsteadily in her chest.

She hadn’t seen Alex in almost five months, the last time she’d seen him they were a floor up as she dropped him off and kissed him goodbye. The thought makes her stomach turn unpleasantly, but she tamps the feeling down as she feels a different sensation. Her hand dropped to her belly, pressing down as the baby below her skin pushed up against her hand. The constant movements kept her mind at ease, telling herself that as long as her son kept moving around, he would be alright.

“Jo.”

She’s snapped out of her thoughts by an all too familiar voice, her gaze moving from her belly up to Alex as he stands across from her, still a good 50 feet away. His eyes dart from hers down to her protruding belly and then back up to her face. It takes her all of two seconds to dart forward and into Alex’s arms, pressing her face against his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

“Hey, we’re gonna be fine, it’s okay,” Jo hadn’t realized she was crying until Alex’s hand rubbed against her back, prompting her to take deeper breaths as she reigned in her emotions. “I’m here now and we’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

“My appointment is tomorrow Alex, I don’t need you fussing over me for 12 hours until then,” Jo laid herself out across the couch, watching as Alex kicked his shoes off by the door before sitting on the other end of the couch and moving her feet into his lap. “He’s been moving around all day, I think he’s fine.”

“Will you just let me check? I do tons of fetal consults, I’m used to it,” Alex stared down at her with a frown. “It would make me feel better.”

Jo let out a sigh as she grabbed the hem of her shirt, reaching for Alex’s hand and pressing it against her belly where their son was moving around, “Does that make you feel better?”

Looking up from her belly Jo let a small grin form on her face as she saw the tears welling in Alex’s eyes. She truly was going to tell him, she knew how important being there from the beginning of their child’s life would be for him. For weeks though every time, she thought about telling him fear stopped her. Fear of him rejecting her, of him not wanting anything to do with her or their child, of him taking their son. All of those fears seemed to vanish though when she was faced with the very real fear that her, their, son was in danger. Once that idea was planted in her head, all Jo wanted was to talk to Alex and tell him everything he’d missed.

“He’s gonna be fine, whatever happens tomorrow he’s going to be okay,” Alex finally looked away from where his hand laid on Jo’s stomach only to find her already staring down at him. “I’m sorry I missed so much and that you had to go through that alone. But I swear I’m not going anywhere now.”

“Alex-”

“I mean it. How am I supposed to leave again when you two are here,” as if proving his point a kick sounded against his hand prompting Jo to place her own hand over his. “I can’t do that, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I left and something happened again.”

She knew there was more they needed to say, more that they would have to talk about including how he’d left her before. But for now, Jo was content in laying where she was as Alex talked to their son, his fingers brushing across her bare skin as he tracked his movements.

True to Alex’s word, everything does end up being okay for them. Five months after he comes back to Seattle Jo is cradling their son against her chest, the little boy letting out small cries as he adjusts to being in the world.

“See? I told you he’d be perfectly fine,” Alex pressed a kiss into Jo’s hair before leaning down to press one against the tufts of dark hair on their son’s head. “Liam just knew that if he was a little dramatic he’d get me home sooner.”

Jo couldn’t help the chuckle that left her as she looked down at Liam. Even if she had been scared out of her mind, she knew that she would go through everything in the past nine months all over again if it meant that she had her son and her husband by her side.

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex babies #jo x alex #jo wilson #jo karev #alex karev #grey’s fanfic #grey’s anatomy #grey’s anatomy fanfic #nina writes #jolex fanfiction

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twenty

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome to the end of our tale, everyone! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying over the years. I love you so much and appreciate you more than words can say. Here's to 2021, my friends! Ad Victoriam, and stay safe! Tagging @anonymouscosmos, @culturalrebel, @wrestlingfae, @toxiicpop, @mercy-and-malice, @deepkittycollecto, @nelba, @mechanicalism, @commandershepardshtole, @valkyriejack and @kovu-the-mythical-being. Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

Part Fourteen: Dichotomy

Part Fifteen: The Litany Trial

Part Sixteen: Nice Try

Part Seventeen: Preparations

Part Eighteen: Divide And Conquer

Part Nineteen: Lucky

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains holiday celebrations, brief emotional distress and unprotected sex. Stay safe!]

Time seemed to pass both too fast and not fast enough.

Synths were accommodated, reprogrammed at their wishes or helped to adjust to their new lives. Doctor Amari and the rest of the Railroad had no shortage of work, and Desdemona eventually tapped MacCready and Cait to oversee their caravan logistics back to the Capital Wasteland.

"And the people of the Commonwealth slept soundly, for the greatest monster was gone." Nick had remarked, touching the brim of his fedora in a half-salute. The old detective quickly appointed himself as head of first impressions in Diamond City, making certain that no trouble befell any wayward synth that accidentally wandered in. There was still a lot of work to be done to repair the Broken Mask incident, after all.

New settlements sprang up overnight and while there may not have been total harmony, there was the sensation of the whole Commonwealth heaving a sigh of relief. Recruits flocked to the Minutemen and Brotherhood in droves as Piper's Publick Occurrences spread the word of their successful campaign against the Institute.

Commonwealth boogeyman decimated by combination effort: Brotherhood Of Steel and Minutemen join forces to save Boston from bodysnatchers!

Deacon had effortlessly deflected Piper every time she asked for an interview, the mysterious man more than content to keep the Railroad shadowy. The less everyone knew, the less they could tell, and that suited him just fine. "You did real good, Icebox. Helped a lot of people."

Elder Brandis sought approval to establish a permanent outpost at the Boston airport ruins, the former paladin keen to send the Prydwen back to the Capital Wasteland. "Oh the Prydwen's a fine ship, but put me in the field any day!" The airship, once a proud symbol of the Maxson reign, now served little purpose aside from blocking the sun on occasion. Scribes laughed and played in the massive shadow, kicking up dust until the circle where the litany trial had taken place was nothing but a memory.

X6-88 had floundered for several weeks, the courser falling into a depressive slump that not even Curie could rouse him from. Oddly enough, it was Preston who ended up being able to haul him out of the darkness, the lieutenant making a point to visit the courser to drag him from his room for target practice and other low-effort patrol duties. "Sometimes all folks need is a hand, General."

The courser went on to reluctantly take the role of defective defector, working as a consultant to the Minutemen to help ward off any future attacks by desperate coursers or Institute scientists. Preston found his input invaluable, and the duo could often be found in the lieutenant's quarters poring over threadbare maps and trading tactical information. Preston also seemed to have a calming effect on the synth hunter, helping to blunt some of the cold steel edge that X6 had honed his entire life. Add on to that the constant caring presence of Curie, and they made a strange but surprisingly effective trio.

With the new supply line firmly established between the verdant utopia of Starlight Drive-In and Oberland Station, the strain of the prior lean months finally eased a bit. Faces grew less pinched even with the increased burden of the synths, and many settlers began to tentatively plan for a small celebration in the beginning of the winter.

"'The Holidays' is what they been callin' it, real simple and succinct. Some freaky hodgepodge of everyone's traditions. I guess a lot of folks on that fancy director's board also celebrated around this time of year. Not that the synths would know, naturally." Hancock had muttered, his expression sour. "Poor bastards always workin', and they ain't got fuckall to show for it. Seems like a shit deal."

Elder Brandis granted Danse an extended leave of absence after the toppling of the Institute without the paladin even requesting it, the large man dumbfounded for a moment upon receiving the news.

"If you're up for it, I could use a hand back at Sanctuary." Vega had grinned up at him, her eyes squinting a little under the force of her smile. "A lot of prep work goes into a holiday, after all."

...

Danse had taken it upon himself to retreat from Shaun's previous bedroom when he accompanied Vega and her son back to Sanctuary. He debated heavily on returning to the airport; after all, there was no real reason for him to stay in Sanctuary Hills, at least none that he dared to dwell upon. The few small projects that Vega had to manage were easily accomplished and he was left a bit lost in the wake of the excess of his leave.

Vega, however, had begun framing in what was once the carpark for her house. Sturges helped of course, and once Danse caught on he was touched by the gesture.

"I don't want you to feel like there isn't room for you just because Shaun is back." Elizabeth had said, lugging a chunk of scrap metal from the wreckage of her car.

The paladin had to take a moment, claiming sawdust in his eye as the culprit.

Now Danse lived in the area she had partitioned off for him, uncertain if he still believed he was intruding. Those thoughts were troubling, because if he could get comfortable…

What if Vega eventually decided that Shaun needed a father and what if...what if she chose a real man? Really real, not a sham like Danse was. And if she did, what man would permit Danse to stay? What real man would permit a synth that was currently entangled by these...human emotions to remain on their property, even if Danse proved he wasn't a threat?

What man would believe him if he claimed to have no interest in Vega? Hell, Danse didn't even believe himself.

But he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay. He wanted to tell Elizabeth...well, there were a lot of things he wanted to tell her.

His silence was more of a burden each day, and Danse knew he must seem sullen. It gnawed at him; it felt like lying every time he choked the words back down because it wasn't the right time or he just didn't know what to say, and he didn't trust himself not to say something foolish.

He decided he would wait until after the holiday gathering. Whatever the verdict was, it shouldn't take away from the joy she was clearly feeling over the festivities. So Danse threw himself into helping Sturges, Mama Murphy and the Longs around Sanctuary.

Secretly making a toy truck for Shaun had been a painstaking process fraught with peril. Mainly because Danse was somewhat indelicate and carving tiny wheels had never been his area of expertise. Oh certainly, he could build a survival camp with nothing but a combat knife and time, but a toy...

The paladin had spent countless hours creating prototypes in his cobbled-together room as he pondered the path he should take, sometimes working into the wan light of the morning. He eventually showed the truck to Jun, immensely fearful that Shaun might not enjoy the toy. Danse couldn't recall his own interests when he had been Shaun's age, and thus fell back on the other man's expertise.

"It looks good! Sand the wheels a little more, maybe give it a coat or two of paint." Jun praised the pensive paladin, turning the vehicle over in his hands to examine it. "Kyle loved these kinds of things y'know, trucks and trains and little toy boats." His gaze grew distant for a moment, the rough plaything stilling in his grasp. "Marcy thinks she's pregnant." He said abruptly.

"Pregnant?" Danse repeated without meaning to, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

Jun nodded jerkily. "It's been three months now. She's scared, Mr. Danse, real scared. Thinks something bad will happen."

"What can we do?" The paladin asked sharply.

Jun gawked up at him, seeming confused. "We?"

"I am unfamiliar with this process. What needs to be done?"

"I...I don't follow, Mr. Danse."

"To simplify the duration! What precautions can I-"

"Whoa, hang on." Jun protested. "We aren't sure if the general will even let us stay here with an extra mouth to feed. I've been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject." He admitted.

"You haven't even told General Vega yet?!" Danse squawked.

"W-Well, no! I figured maybe we would...we'd see how the winter went and play it by ear." Jun mumbled, seeming defensive.

Danse seized the other man's arm, heedless of his protests as he hauled him across the front lawn to Vega's abode. Today was the day that Vega had planned to sort through decorations; there were many left over from the fall holiday the Commonwealth had been preparing to celebrate before...well, time had stopped for most when the bombs fell, it was understandable that faded pumpkins and skeletons would still grace crumbling walls with their orangey-cream presence.

Vega looked up from the veritable pile of brittle, salvaged decor in confusion when Danse barged into their...her home, the paladin immediately halting and offering a sharp salute. "Danse! I...uh, what's wrong?"

"Mr. Long has something he needs to discuss with you immediately." Danse informed her, tugging the other man forward.

"I-I...er, General, you…" Jun struggled to speak, twiddling his fingers wildly. "M-Marcy--"

"What's wrong, Jun? Is she okay?" Vega asked, getting to her feet and shooting Danse a worried look. "Did something happen?"

"B-Baby." Jun squeaked. "Pregnant."Backhand went still, her freckles stark against the fresh pallor of her face. "I'm sorry, General, I know we haven't discussed it beforehand a-and I know food's been better as of late...I-I guess she got enough nutrients and got healthy enough for...er, well, you know." Mr. Long looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground. "We should have spoke to you sooner; I don't know if she can leave with the weather being--"

"Wh-Where are you going? Why leave, what?" Vega stammered, "Jun, you can't travel now, if something goes wrong-!"

"We weren't sure if you'd let us stay!" The thin man interrupted her frantically. "This is your base, after all, and you didn't sign on for an extra person to worry about."

Vega inhaled deeply. "Danse, could you give me a minute with Mr. Long?" She requested, her voice suspiciously even.

Danse obeyed, closing the front door gently and meandering a pointed distance down the main thoroughfare so as not to eavesdrop. He had a relatively good idea of how the conversation would go, despite Jun's misgivings. So he wandered down to the huge tree at the end of the cul-de-sac, fiddling with the truck in his pocket absently as he stared upwards at the barren branches.

"Y'know kid," Mama Murphy piped up from her customary chair on her porch and the paladin turned to face her, giving the elderly woman his full attention. "When I had the Sight, I saw this place. Sanctuary." She nodded in the direction of the river, then gestured upwards. "The bridge, and this tree. Massive and old, worn out from all those years." She cocked her head, giving Danse an appraising look. "The tree though, it was...covered in lights. Like what you see in the pre-war mags. The Holidays, shinin' like a beacon of hope at the end of the tunnel."

Danse hummed, the vaguest beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. He couldn't bring Vega's old life back, but maybe...maybe he could bring something from it back to her. Like what you see in the pre-war mags.

"I think you're pickin' up what I'm puttin' down, kid." Mama Murphy's smile was knowing, the old woman reaching over to pet Dogmeat. The dog seemed to materialize out of thin air sometimes! "Now get to it."

...

Backhand was already scurrying around the kitchen when Danse rose on the morning of the Holiday celebration, the paladin pausing only momentarily to yawn in the doorway before sleepily offering his assistance. "Is there something I can help with, Vega?"

"Uh, Sturges, he said something about you and stuff from Goodneighbor, I think?" Elizabeth replied, obviously preoccupied with whatever she had in the semi-functional oven. Danse nodded, trudging across the kitchen to tug on his boots by the door.

Shaun bounded out of the bathroom, his face still damp from his morning wash. "Oh, can I help too? Please Mom, let me help Mister Danse and Mister Sturges!" He begged.

"You'd better stay right where Danse and Sturges can see you." Backhand instructed him sternly, one oven-mitted hand gesturing to indicate the gravity of the situation. "Otherwise you're coming straight back inside. Go put on your warm coat."

Shaun cheered in delight, racing back to his room.

"It's okay that he's with you two, right? I know he's not your responsibility." Backhand continued in an undertone to the paladin.

Danse's throat tightened and it took him a moment to respond, "I don't mind at all. He's a very well-behaved child."

"Let me know if he's an issue and I'll bring him back inside. I just need to get this done and the oven is being all-"

Danse stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, deliberately schooling his expression into something more stern. "General, you're doing a fine job. Stop worrying."

"Am I? Shit, I really hope so." Elizabeth mumbled, tipping her forehead until it rested against his chest. Danse prayed she couldn't hear his heart, hammering merely from her proximity. God, his body was nothing but an embarrassment waiting to happen. "I've never really done this crap. Not sure if I'm cut out for it."

The momentary respite was broken when Shaun reappeared in his oversized flannel and oilcloth jacket, the child bolting past the two adults to put on his boots. Danse reluctantly released Backhand, noting how flushed her face was but not really daring to dwell on it. "I'll...I'll watch him." The paladin said, his voice a bit stilted. "I promise."

"Thank you." Backhand mumbled, wiping her eyes and then returning to coddle…whatever it was in the oven.

"Ready, Shaun?" Danse asked the boy, who nodded rapidly and extended a hand.

The snow outside was still fresh from the night before and Danse took a moment to appreciate the view of the Commonwealth covered in a thin layer of white. Off in the distance, the towering crimson insignia of the Red Rocket gasoline station stood stark against the backdrop of the gray sky. Even further down the road slumbered the empty shell of Concord, the tallest of the town's dilapidated buildings only just visible from the paladin's position.

Shaun tugged at his hand, pulling his attention back to the present. "Mister Danse, Mister Sturges is waiting for us!" The child announced, waving up at the engineer who was currently settled into a crook of the brittle branches that graced the tree on the cul-de-sac island. "Hi Mister Sturges!"

"Howdy fellas! Come to give me a helpin' hand?" Sturges called, grinning down at the two of them.

"What assistance can we offer?" Danse queried, wary that the other man might suggest Shaun climb up to him. His fears were quickly allayed when Sturges instead asked Shaun and Danse to begin untangling the long strands of old lights.

Hancock and his ilk had arrived from Goodneighbor, bearing the gifts of dubious treats and many, many mangled strings of lights. Goodneighbor had always been drenched in neon, after all, so Danse had assumed the ghoul mayor would be the best person to call upon for aid. It would appear that Hancock had delivered in spectacular fashion.

"With your help, we'll have this place lookin' pretty as a picture in no time!"

…

Maybe she had bitten off slightly more than she could chew, trying to cook a traditional dinner. Backhand sighed, glumly poking at the cold poultry with a wooden spoon. Her cooking skills had never been much to write home about in the first place, and this only served to solidify that fact.

"Oh Mum, I'm so sorry. The old oven just isn't how it used to be." Codsworth commented, his mechanical voice tinged with melancholy.

"It's not a big deal, Codsworth. I hate to waste the food, that's all." Backhand muttered, assuring herself that she wasn't fighting back frustrated tears, her eyes were just tired. "Damn thing didn't even get to the warm phase."

"Mum, if I might suggest…?" The robot started hesitantly, carrying on when she nodded. "Perhaps it can be salvaged. After all, we make bread in that same pan by tucking it beneath the hot coals out front. What do you say, shall we give it a go?"

"Got nothing to lose, right?"

"It will be just fine, Mum! You're an adaptive sort." Codsworth remarked, drifting out the front door to stoke the usual cooking fire to life once more. "Indeed, just fine!" He called.

Vega shook her head ruefully. "Oh I'm sure." The woman grumbled. "Can't cook and comes with baggage. What a catch ol' Vega is." At least the bread had come out well, in spite of the brisk weather. She could thank whoever for that small favor.

Once Codsworth had coaxed the embers to life in the fire pit, Elizabeth bundled up and brought the still-cold cast-iron pot outside. Maybe it had been wishful thinking to believe that the oven portion of her stove would still work. Or even heat at all. It had been promising earlier in the week, but this might be a blessing in disguise. If the whole house had gone up due to a cooking malfunction...well, the holidays wouldn't be too happy then, would they?

"Please cook." She begged under her breath, troweling hot coals onto the battered dutch oven lid. "I need this, y'know? Just a little victory, that's all I'm asking for here."

"Shall I get started on the tatoes, Miss Vega?"

Elizabeth nodded, only half-listening to Codsworth. She knew she would have a good forty five minutes to an hour to wait, and it wasn't as if it was colder outside than it was inside. The joys of semi-functional heating!

Vega shook her head at herself after a second, since when did she dwell on everything that Sanctuary wasn't? At the end of the day, it was her home. She wouldn't trade it for the world, and she knew she had much more than most people.

At that thought, her gaze wandered to where Danse and Shaun were. The larger man had Shaun on his shoulders while he patiently unwound a massive bundle of flickering string lights. Shaun, for his part, was passing the untangled lights up to Sturges. The engineer slid down the ladder so he could reach the child, looping the lights over his arm before climbing back up and painstakingly placing them in the gnarled grasp of the tree's limbs.

The manufactured cheer that the lights had given off pre-war was still somewhat there, though the radiant colors were washed out to pastel and the warm whites had gone dingy gray. Instead of it being a melancholy reminder that her life had changed irreparably, Backhand was overcome with gratitude. For her son's safe return, regardless of his synthetic makeup, and for the man who was currently carrying Shaun on his shoulders. For her home, for her family.

A family.

Perhaps she was getting a little ahead of herself. After all, Danse was still adjusting to life in ordinary time. It would be selfish of her to voice her feelings to him while he was coming to terms with everything that had happened. For better or for worse, their lives were different now.

It ought to be enough that he was in her life at all. She should be content. His presence alone was a miracle; for all intents and purposes he should be dead. Yet there he was, mere feet away, helping to brighten up the holiday celebration.

Tonight there would be a multitude of visitors. God only knew how many would arrive from settlements near and far, to say nothing of Goodneighbor, Diamond City, the Prydwen and the Castle! It would be an incredibly busy evening for certain. Hancock had arrived early with a posse of ragtag drifters from Goodneighbor, all of them offering gifts of food or scavenged ornaments to decorate. Hence the massive mound of lights that was currently being diligently sorted through.

The aforementioned ghoul appeared to have delegated the task of quality checking the lights, as his form currently leaned against the faded blue siding of her house. With cigarette smoke wafting from his mouth and nasal cavity in equal amounts, he seemed content to just watch the chaos unfold.

"Aren't you a little chilly?" Backhand queried, raising an eyebrow. The mayor was still clad in his usual garb of...for lack of a better term, repurposed period dress. Granted it wasn't seasonably cold out, at least not like how she remembered it being before the bombs dropped.

"Nah, we ghouls run pretty warm. Ham's like a portable space heater." Hancock answered, giving her a lazy grin. "Cute of you to worry, though. I must be growin' on ya'."

"Whoa there, let's not get too crazy."

"Whatcha' think, General?" Sturges shouted from his perch, waving to get her attention.

Danse turned in place, appearing to realize that she was watching as his hands flew up and grabbed Shaun's legs, stabilizing the small boy on his shoulders.

Backhand couldn't keep from smiling when she called back, "it looks wonderful! Keep up the great work!"

"That ain't the only thing that looks wonderful, right Sunshine?" Hancock snickered, rolling his eyes at the now-sputtering woman. "You better give the Brave Little Toaster the ride of his life, that's all I gotta' say."

"Hancock!" Vega hissed, making a half-hearted swipe at the mayor. "You fuckin'--"

"Ah ah, little pitchers!" Hancock scolded, tilting his head to the side to draw Vega's attention to the rapidly-approaching form of Duncan, MacCready's son. "Gotta' watch that mouth of yours, Sunshine."

"This ain't over, ya' raisin-lookin' bastard." Backhand snarled under her breath, pasting on a friendly smile for Duncan while Hancock wheezed with laughter. "Hey bud, how's things?" She greeted the child, who grimaced.

"Dad's kissin' Miss Cait again. S'gross." The little boy announced, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"That does sound pretty gross." Hancock piped up before Backhand could reply. "But you like seein' your old man happy, right? The lady makes him happy. Simple as that."

"Yeah, I guess. Can I play with Shaun?" Duncan asked Vega, eyes wide as he seemed to take in the tree covered with lights.

"Go ahead, kiddo! Just be careful and stay away from Sturges' ladder." Elizabeth warned, grinning when the little boy took off with a whoop.

Cait and MacCready strode up after a moment, both of them red-faced. MacCready bent double, his hands on his knees. "I'm not built for these bullsh--awful conditions." He panted. "I don't know how the kid does it. He was nearly dead a few months ago and now he's out here kicking the snow in the a--er, butt."

Backhand glanced around, and then snorted. "You call this snow? It's a dusting. Back before-"

"Ah ah, easy now Mumsicle, we ain't got time for yer trip down memory lane." Cait teased. "Work to be done, aye? C'mon then, General, shape up. What you doin' on the ground anyway, all crouched like a mother hen broodin'?"

"I'm cooking." Vega replied tersely.

"Oh aye? Looks like yer shirkin' t' me, love. Codsy can manage that mess, c'mon." Cait seized her elbow, levering her up out of the snowy grass. "Now, what needs doin'?"

...

The day was a whirlwind of arrivals, preparations and well wishers. Elder Brandis even stopped by briefly, taking precious time away from his all-consuming duties to distribute some useful supplies and catch up on the gossip.

The Diamond City trio graced Sanctuary with their presence shortly before noon, Nat scurrying off to play with Duncan and Shaun while Piper made a beeline for Hancock's merry band. Nick was more keen to meander around the outskirts of the groups forming, amber eyes taking in his surroundings.

Preston appeared midafternoon with X6, Curie and the entire O'Brian clan in tow, later than expected but apparently they had stopped to help out a settlement along the way.

The cul-de-sac soon rang with the laughter of the rambunctious children; even little Siusan was permitted to briefly toddle about in the trampled snow under the watchful gaze of Eamon. The weather was chilly but the sun had broken through the clouds throughout the day, sending momentary waves of brilliance across the Commonwealth.

Every table and chair that could be salvaged had been assembled on the old foundation at the end of the cul-de-sac, and it was there that the adults began to gather as the sun set. Metal drums loaded with wood were lit, providing heat and illumination to the many guests of the Commonwealth's first official potluck dinner.

"Or rather," Piper amended, clearing her throat with a touch of self-importance as she tapped her notepad, "the first documented official potluck dinner."

The large tree twinkled and shone in the fast-approaching darkness, the occasional flicker or broken bulb doing little to diminish the cheer it provided. The food was distributed, Backhand's roast chicken disappearing without a hitch. The young woman couldn't help doing a mental dance of victory, delighted that Codsworth's quick thinking had saved that particular endeavor.

Vega found a place to sit somewhere in the middle of one of the many long tables, red from the praise of her companions and the persistent chill in the air. She got even redder when Preston loudly proclaimed a toast, to the General!, her lieutenant tipping his bottle and everyone else following suit.

"I remember when I first met the general, she was half-dead on her feet." Preston began the story, his smile fond. "Sturges couldn't even believe our luck. Hell, none of us could. When freedom called, our general answered!"

Backhand, who had lived the story and knew all the ins and outs, found her attention wandering to Danse while Preston regaled the crowd with his tale. The paladin seemed to be listening closely, his meal forgotten. Deacon even began to thieve bits of chicken and tato out from beneath his nose, the Railroad agent shooting Vega a sly wink over his sunglasses.

Backhand shook her head at the other man's antics, then focused her attention on Preston. "...'Lurk queen, a huge, mean seabug, taken out by landmines! The Castle was ours once again, and we all had General Vega to thank for it." The lieutenant stated firmly. "The one who can get things done in the Commonwealth, the one who gave folks hope when it was in mighty short supply. We uh, we owe you a lot, ma'am." He raised his bottle once more. "To General Vega, leader of the Minutemen!"

"To Elizabeth!" Hancock yelled, echoed by half the damn populace as Vega tried to wave it off, the young woman laughing awkwardly. "To our Sunshine, the hero of the Commonwealth!"

"Synth savior, a regular knight in shining armor." Deacon teased.

"Well done, General Vega." Danse said warmly, "I can't know for certain whether the Brotherhood itself would be proud, but I certainly am." His praise for whatever reason made Vega's blush feel like it would scorch her skin.

Oh she knew damn well why, she was just being willfully oblivious at this point.

"Speech! Speech! Is that not zee norm for zis sort of occasion?" Curie called, the diminutive synth currently sharing X6-88's coat as well as his plate of food. X6 didn't seem to have any reservations about the matter, his arm slung around her shoulders without a care in the world.

Much to Vega's chagrin, the majority appeared to be in favor of such a vocal endeavor. She attempted to laugh off the suggestion to no avail, and finally got to her feet. "Alright, alright, settle down. I'll say a few words if it'll get you all off my damn back." She grumbled, her body thoroughly warm now with a combination of embarrassment and gratitude. "I uh…"

Vega trailed off as she looked out over the ragtag gang of expectant faces staring back at her. So many friends and neighbors, finally getting the chance to breathe. The chance to celebrate the fruits of their labor...it was sobering.

"I can't thank you all enough for...well, for everything that you've done. You all sacrificed so much for this peace, stuff I could never imagine doing even before the bombs dropped." She cleared her throat. "My mentor, Sergeant Shaun Cathan, was a great man, and he often had some very succinct or choice words which I'm not about to repeat in polite company."

"Aw c'mon-!" Zeke began to protest loudly, his voice fading as he noticed the small gaggle of children still gawking at his power armor.

Backhand continued, her jaw set firmly, "but one thing I can say that he told me is this: a leader who permits their pride to impede their decisions is doomed to failure. Pride built the Institute, and that same pride rotted it to the core. Pride built the Brotherhood of Steel, the Minutemen, and we've seen the both of them nearly toppled." Vega clenched her fist. "Pride brought nuclear fire down on Boston, but people hauled themselves outta' the ashes of that fire. Good people, tough people. Folks I knew. Folks I cared for, even if some of 'em did spend a little too much time on the Cape. If pride can do so much effin' harm, I expect simple compassion and decency to do just as much good. Hell, more than that. Humanity's built itself back up after the cluster that was armageddon, and we ain't through yet."

She tipped the jar she had been drinking out of towards the crowd, sternly studying the collection of scavengers, families both new and familiar.

...

"So here's to you, my friends. To all that you've done, and to all that you will do."

Vega's salute was rigid, pre-war. Like her helmet on the table beside her, scraped and covered in faded sigils. The mixture of candlelight and the lights on the tree reflected off the worn lenses of her glasses, shielding her eyes from view. Danse wished desperately that he could see her eyes; more than anything he wished to stand up and flat-out state what she had done for him to every soul there, display his...admiration.

Was that even the right word? Admiration, adoration, affection--

His face was strangely warm all of a sudden. Danse flinched, staring down at his mug of coffee with single-minded intent as the buzz of conversation around him picked back up. His mind raced, pieces falling into place in a nigh-unstoppable rush.

Affection. Like...what he had felt for Cutler? Almost. A little to the left of that. Brighter.

Happier.

Not perfect, nothing could ever be perfect. But...

"Elizabeth Vega?" A male ghoul's voice barely penetrated the paladin's consciousness, his words not really registering until, "Beth, it really is you!" The ghoul exclaimed. "I thought I was crazy! It's me, Beth. It's Nate."

"...Nate?"

Danse's head whipped up so fast his neck popped in warning, the paladin having been only tangentially aware of the conversation happening mere feet away from his position. But at that particular nickname his entire being snapped to attention, eyes darting sidelong from where he had been intently studying his mug of coffee.

The ghoul man that Vega was currently speaking to was an inch or two taller than her, with a single tuft of dark hair that still remained over his left ear. He appeared absolutely delighted, but Vega seemed...wary.

"Beth," Danse heard him say once more, and he watched Backhand visibly tense. "I never thought I would see you again! After the bombs dropped--I mean how the hell did...is that Shaun? God, he got so big!"

"Nate, is there something I can do for you?"

Nate.

Danse's breath caught in his throat and his mouth went dry. Nate? Nate her ex-husband from before the war? Nate, the man who had divorced her once he found out she was pregnant with his child?

Somehow he had managed to survive?

Oh, what an incredibly bitter thing to think! Danse was somewhat startled by his own dark path of reasoning. But it wasn't untrue; his mind railed at the unfairness of it all.

The paladin stood up, his mug of coffee forgotten. He wasn't exactly certain what he was about to do, but he also wasn't going to do nothing. He cast around wildly for a plan as he approached Elizabeth from behind around the table, and Danse latched onto what was probably the least intelligent course of action that he could have conjured up.

"Elizabeth," the paladin called, loud enough to be heard over the general hubbub. She turned and Danse briefly spied a look of intense relief on her face before he enveloped her in his arms. "You appeared cold, figured I could warm you up a bit." He reasoned aloud, smiling benignly over her head at Nate. "Who's this?"

Vega began to introduce him even with her face still comically buried in Danse's chest, "Nate, I'd like you to meet-"

"Paladin Logan Danse, Northeastern chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel." Danse interrupted her smoothly, extending a hand to Nate. "I've heard a great deal about you, Nate. It's a privilege to meet you, and a welcome surprise to see that you endured the radiation."

"Uh, is it? Well I-I guess it is." Nate looked flummoxed and crestfallen all at once, glumly shaking Danse's hand. "I suppose you two are, er..."

"Vega is my partner, yes. For over a year now." Danse replied once the other man had trailed off, his tone saccharine-sweet. He heard Vega gasp against his chest. "She is a truly incredible woman. I'm immensely lucky."

"Yeah, I...yeah. Uh, I have to go...talk to--I'll see you later, Beth." Nate squeaked, sidestepping away from the two of them and making a beeline for the road.

"I can't even believe it." Backhand's voice grated with tangible irritation. "I cannot even fuckin' fathom--I...dammit, why him?!" She seethed into Danse's jacket, clenching her fists on his hips. "Phew, boy, I sort of thought I'd already dealt with all that resentment." The woman admitted unhappily.

"You do things in your own time." Danse replied quietly. "Are you alright?"

Vega went still for a second. Danse felt her unclench her fists, hands going slack on his body. Had he misspoken-?

"In my own time, huh?" Vega muttered, almost like she was thinking out loud. "I...I'll be back in a little while, Danse."

…

I'm not panicking. Definitely not panicking. One hundred percent not panicking, totally fine.

Backhand scurried away from the paladin, trying to hide the tell-tale redness of her face. She needed to find either Mrs. O'Brian or MacCready, fast.

As luck would have it, MacCready found her. The former merc tapped on her shoulder as she bounced up on her tiptoes to search for Mrs. O'Brian. "Hey boss, Shaun wanted me to ask you if he could sleep over with Duncan tonight." The man began after she whirled around to face him.

"Yes." Vega replied, perhaps a little too quick and definitely too enthusiastic. "Mac you're a lifesaver, I was just about to ask-"

"-for me and Cait to watch your kid so you and the tin can can get some alone time?" MacCready smirked, giving her a wink. "Dang General, I don't think I've ever seen you so red! Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Shut up, Mac, you're so exasperating." Backhand jabbed a teasing finger into the center of his chest. "You talk, Mayor, and I'll know." The threat was toothless; the both of them grinned at each other after their fierce staring contest. "Thanks for everything."

"Don't mention it. I figure getting you some Brotherhood...uh, Steel, heh, is a pretty decent way to make up for the fact that I didn't bring you a present." Mac shrugged, fiddling with the bill of his hat. "I have beef with the Capital Brotherhood, but these guys...I mean, they don't seem all bad." He allowed grudgingly, giving Vega a gentle nudge with his shoulder. "Go on."

A bracing shot of whiskey shored up her tenuous spark of confidence and Vega marched back to Danse, the large man now engaged in conversation with X6 while Shaun, Duncan, Bridget, Nat and Matthew swirled around their ankles.

Danse was saying, "--collateral ramifications would be inadvisable, I suggest a soft breach. With adequate preparation-"

"Adequate preparation on your part borders on over-caution." X6 interrupted him dismissively. "However, I will take it into account and speak with Preston on the matter. He seems to share your morality. A pity."

"Play at the unfeeling machine all you want, X6." Danse retorted. "It does you no favors. You have people who care about you now, and you would not have asked for my input if you believed the endeavour would be futile."

"True enough, Paladin." The vaguest hint of a smile tugged at X6's mouth. "You are capable."

"I suppose that is the best that I can hope for."

"Hey, Danse? Can I uh, have a little chat?" Backhand asked, stifling a hysterical giggle when Danse immediately looked guilty. The paladin nodded, bidding X6 farewell and attempting to sidestep around the children who were currently playing tag in an ever-tightening circle. "Not um, here though. Let's go to my house, okay? Shaun, you're all set to stay overnight with Duncan, Mac and Cait, right?"

"Yeah!" Shaun replied breathlessly, pausing in his chase to give his mother a massive grin. "Already brought my blankets over and everything. Mister MacCready said Duncan and I could sleep in their wagon, and that he'd tell us Grognak stories!"

Danse's brow furrowed. "We are leaving the gathering, then?" He asked, looking a bit distressed when Elizabeth nodded. "A moment, please." He turned back to the children, calling for Shaun.

The boy bolted away from the group, skidding in the muddy slush. "Yeah, Mister Danse?" He asked, his impatience plain.

"I, er. I...happy holidays." The paladin mumbled, extracting a small bundle from his jacket pocket and giving it to the child.

"Whoa, for me?!" Shaun practically crowed, tearing through the old newspaper to reveal the gift.

It was a sturdy carved vehicle, its edges sleek and smooth. The wood was coated in shiny green paint, giving the little truck a distinct air of newness in this post-apocalyptic world. Danse swallowed audibly as Shaun stared down at the toy without saying a word.

Backhand closed her eyes, hoping and praying that the kid remembered his manners. She hadn't even known Danse had planned on giving him something. Did he make the truck himself? It was wood, not the usual plastic or aluminum of pre-war children's toys. When had he found the time to make a toy? She suddenly remembered his uncharacteristically wide yawn that morning and her eyes flew open, darting to look at Danse. He had been staying up, hadn't he?

"I love it, Mister Danse!" Shaun interrupted her mental panic with his enthusiastic eruption, smiling wide and bolting forward to hug Danse around the waist. Danse's own relief was evident, the large man patting the child on the back with an awkward chuckle.

Oh Jesus, I'm not going to cry, Vega insisted, taking a deep breath. Nope, won't do it.

"Mom look, look what Mister Danse gave me!" Shaun exclaimed, as if she hadn't been standing right there the whole time.

"It's really cool, right?" Backhand grinned, rumpling his hair and then giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Make sure you wash your face and brush your teeth before bed, okay? I hope you and Duncan have fun. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom, I will. Thank you again, Mister Danse!" Shaun rushed to say, clearly eager to return to his friends.

"Alright, go on." Vega tapped the end of his nose, "go have fun." She watched him scramble through the slush, nearly tripping again. "Jesus, he's a bull in a china shop," she sighed, making Danse snort. "Shall we, Paladin?"

He fell into step beside her, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and his back ramrod straight. He was silent until they were actually in Elizabeth's living room, the young woman barely able to shut the front door before he started babbling, "if I offended you earlier, if I-I overstepped my bounds, I apologize. I just recalled what you had said about the name he used for you and I'm afraid I started moving before I could reconsider-"

"Danse, do you remember how we started all of this?" Vega cut off what promised to be a downright incredible justification, cocking her head to the side. "How we met, and what happened?"

"You came to our aid at the Cambridge police station. Then you carried on assisting me with our mission. You helped acquire the deep range transmitter. You greased my armor." Danse paused, fidgeting. "You...said it was alright if I wanted to kiss you."

“It’s alright if you want to kiss me, you know.” Her smile was gentle. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Vega nodded, smiling once more. "The offer still stands, naturally."

"I...things are different now. I'm different. You still...even now, after everything that you know about me?"

"Of course."

"I didn't want to believe you felt that strongly about our...about us." Danse was smiling, actually smiling! "I'd given up hope a long time ago that I would ever be enough for anyone. I was never...enough. Smart enough, or strong enough or...well, just enough, I suppose." He shrugged, his smile fading. "With what happened between Maxson and I, and previously with Cutler…" The large man trailed off.

Vega took a deep breath, nodding furiously. "I do feel strongly for you. Danse, I know that this is a lot, b-but I...uh, I think I love you." She gestured up and down at the speechless paladin, feeling the heat that bloomed fresh on her cheeks. "Not just the wrapping, y'know, but uh. The whole package. You."

His look of shock and confusion slowly dissolved into something unreadable, and he broke eye contact for a moment to stare down at his boots.

"Uh, it's okay if you don't reciprocate! O-Or even if you can't reciprocate, I'm not going to be offended!" Elizabeth rushed to add, waving her hands nervously. "I know that this is a lot to dump on you all at once, I-I'm sorry. I don't want you feeling pressured to give me an affirmative answer just because you don't want to hurt my feelings or whatever."

"I...I can't say that I haven't thought about it." He admitted softly. "But Shaun, he needs--Vega, I'm not really human."

"Neither is Shaun, but I don't love him any less." Elizabeth replied. "Shaun is my son. For all intents and purposes, he is my real son, Danse."

"It's one thing to overlook it for a child, Vega. But I'm...what if something goes wrong with me? What if there's some sort of fault in my programming, and that's why I'm like this? What if-"

"It's alright if you don't want me, or even if this is too much right now. I know, it's a lot." Vega interrupted him, her heart sinking but determined to make damn sure he didn't feel pressured.

"Christ, that's not what I meant. I just want to make certain you know exactly what it is that you're agreeing to." Danse cut her off, his shoulders rigid like he was bracing for impact.

"I understand, Danse. I've understood for a while now." Elizabeth dared to rest her hand on his arm. "I want to be with you. I know that nothing in this shitshow of a future is guaranteed and I want to have something good in my life before my inevitable demise at the hands of some overconfident mole rat."

Danse nodded stiffly, and then grabbed her by the lapels of her canvas coat. Vega found herself abruptly pinned against the wall, Danse's mouth hungrily seeking her own. "You mean that?" He panted.

The brush of the stubble on his face reminded her of their first kiss in the Cambridge station and drove home the differences between he and Nate for the hundredth time. Nate was always clean-shaven, favored pecks on the cheek and lived saturated with cologne. But Danse was grizzled, earnest, reeking of the outdoors and power armor grease. Nate had been eloquent, while Danse was taciturn or tripped over his words. Nate was cold and calculating, and Danse…

Danse was fiery and raw, more vulnerable now than she could ever recall him being before. His knee nudged against her thigh and without conscious input, Elizabeth parted her legs for it and threw her arms around his neck to try to urge him even closer. "Yes, Danse," she gasped. "Oh, Jesus, yes, fuck-ing shit--"

She ground herself down against his leg, relieved that everything seemed to be functioning normally and somewhat impressed by her body's ability to mount such a rapid response after a two hundred-plus year dry spell!

"Language," Danse rumbled in reply, his hands tugging her heavy coat off of her shoulders. "Too fast?"

"No, hell no!" Backhand protested, "not fast enough."

"Shh," Danse rested his hands on her hips, shoving up her shirt slightly so he could touch bare skin. "I have you, Vega." Vega pushed herself excitedly into his grip, grinding on his thigh and arching her back. The way his breath hitched sent shockwaves to her core; the way he watched her...

"Danse we should...we should-" Vega's voice wavered as Danse laved her throat with tender kisses. "-should--bedroom, bed."

"Yes." The paladin growled, making no move to actually follow the direction. That is, until he hoisted her up to rest on his hips.

Backhand yelped, her thighs gripping his sides tightly. "H-Hey!"

Danse pressed his forehead to her own, brown eyes attempting to read her soul. "Elizabeth…" he sighed, his expression gone hopelessly soft. "I should warn you, if we...if you do this, I...listen, I can be a little--a little wordy, sometimes. If I am speaking too much-"

"Hey, no, you talk as much as you'd like, okay? Doesn't bug me at all." Vega assured him, slightly curious about what this might mean. Wordy?

"Elizabeth, you are everything that I never knew I was looking for." Danse murmured. "When I lost Cutler, I didn't think I deserved to be happy again. I assumed that my failure would continue to darken any future triumph, and when the majority of Gladius was...I feared that I was unfit for my rank. How could anyone have faith in my skills after such a catastrophic loss of life?"

"It's hard being the one making the choices. You have to be able to bear the burden of responsibility and also the burden of guilt." Vega reasoned, sympathizing with his plight.

"You had faith in me, though. You didn't even know me, but you didn't judge me for my inadequacy and you allowed me some damn peace. I'm just sorry you had to go through that abuse at Maxson's whim for my sake." Danse cupped her hand in his own, pressing kisses to her scarred knuckles. "You've already done so much for me, Vega. Let me undo you?" He offered seriously, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, I uh, I-I can't say I've ever been propositioned quite like that!" Backhand stuttered, certain that her flush covered her entire body at this point.

His laughter, heard so rarely, washed over her like a tidal wave. "Forgive me."

"Only if you keep asking me to have sex like that." Vega shifted her hand in his grip, intertwining their fingers. "C'mon, bedroom."

"It's not just that." Danse tried to protest, shaking his head. "I care about you. About your wellbeing. I want to make you happy."

"You do. So happy. I'm so glad that you're here with me still." Vega turned in the doorway of her room when he set her down, seizing Danse by the collar of his worn t-shirt and tugging him into her arms. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Danse."

"You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that."

"It's the truth, though!" She insisted.

Danse surged forward, his kisses still rough and demanding as he fought to claim her affection. But she gave it freely, all he could ever want and more.

He stripped her of her shirt and dragged his own off over his head, chuckling at the way she greedily drank in the bare skin he presented. "See something you like, General?"

He was hairier than she was used to, but Backhand decided it suited him. Nate, after all, had been absolutely adamant that body hair was grotesque, and now look at him. He'd likely never have to worry about that again.

Thinking of Nate yet again put a frown on her face and Danse paused, giving her a quizzical look. "Is something amiss?"

"Oh! No, I'm sorry. I was just remembering. Nate was all…" Elizabeth gestured vaguely at Danse's chest. "He shaved everything. I'm not used to all...well, seeing so much."

"Is it off-putting? I assure you it's within the Brotherhood's hygiene guidelines, but if you don't like it I-"

"No, I love it. It's new. I've seen your arms, after all, I knew what I was getting into." Vega teased, grinning to ease his worry. "If you can accept all my stretch marks and leftovers, I can definitely handle your chest pelt."

"I'm planning on doing far more than accepting." Danse cradled her breasts in his palms, the paladin lowering his head to draw his tongue over one of her nipples. "I don't care." He soothed when Elizabeth tried to stammer out something else in regard to her stretch marks. "I don't care. It doesn't make you any less desirable to me, Elizabeth."

Vega squeezed her eyes shut, kissing his forehead as he continued to cautiously rouse her peaks until they were stiff and aching for more. Then his thumbs took over, stroking in slow, firm circles that made her quiver from head to toe. "You...you're really good at that." Elizabeth said faintly.

"I'm pleased you think so." Danse grunted when her fingers found his belt buckle. "It has been a significant amount of time for me as well, I...my excitement may be a bit obvious." He admitted, his smile sheepish.

Vega's breath caught in her throat, her hands trembling as she struggled to draw down the worn zipper of his jeans. The underside of his cock throbbed against her palm when she dared to slip her hand into his briefs, his skin searing and smooth.

Danse huffed out a breath, crumpling a little at her tentative touch. "Elizabeth," he groaned, hiding his face in her neck as he rolled his hips eagerly into her hand.

"Keep saying my name like that." She ordered, laughing when the paladin nodded rapidly into her shoulder. "I love you, Danse."

...

Danse rumbled again, words failing him while Elizabeth's fingers wrapped around his cock. This seemed like a dream, another one of his fantasies brought into being. He couldn't seem to do anything aside from stare down at her hand.

"Hey, Danse?"

He jerked to attention, eyes flying up to meet her own guiltily. "Y-Yes, Vega?" He stuttered.

"Do you...uh, y'know." Backhand fumbled to undo the button on her jeans. "You can, if you'd like." She finished awkwardly.

No sooner had she given him permission than Danse was pulling her hand out of his pants, urging her backwards onto her bed even as he kissed her battered knuckles again. "Yes." He grated out, kneeling to untie her boots so he could get her pants off. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes."

"A for enthusiasm, big guy." Elizabeth teased, lazily fingercombing his short hair back. Her veneer of composure was shattered when the paladin eased her underwear down her legs, the young woman covering her face as if she was embarrassed. "Listen, just uh, go easy on me. It's been over two hundred years, after all." She reasoned weakly.

Danse swallowed hard. Cutler had always praised his dirty talk, the calculated way he could take apart a person with his words and touch alone. Maxson hadn't appreciated his speech, granted, but perhaps…

"You're saying you don't want me to bury my fingers in you, Elizabeth? You don't want me to open you up, work my way into that beautiful, flushed little cunt of yours?" Danse rasped, two fingers tracing lightly on her pubic mound. Her cesarean scar was faintly visible, and he felt a brief flare of concern before recalling that was indeed where the scar was from.

"Oh, Jesus. Okay." Vega gasped, blue eyes wide in what Danse could only assume was shock. "Keep that up and you won't have to worry about using anything else. Fuck, Danse, have some pity here." She pleaded, burying her hands in her hair.

"Language. Do you deserve my pity? How would you earn it?" The paladin queried, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her mound now.

"I can be good, Paladin! I can be really good. So good." Her breathless use of his title had Danse's cock pounding, though he tried not to make it obvious. "Please Danse, please touch me…"

Danse climbed up onto the bed alongside her, gently parting her labia with his fingers. "You'll be good for me, Elizabeth?" He asked, propping himself up with an elbow.

"Yes, please."

She had wonderful manners. Danse grazed her clit and her breath stuttered, the paladin spreading the liberal lubrication that she had already created with deft, slow strokes of his index. "Please, what?"

"P-Please...Danse."

He cautiously eased one finger into her, exhaling raggedly when her hand sought out his cock. "Vega-"

"Shh, let me." Elizabeth hushed him, her smile a little dreamy as Danse crooked his finger and rubbed in just the right spot. "Oh, f-uck, Paladin, you--"

"Language, Vega. Can't have you being a bad example while I'm knuckle deep in your cunt." Danse admonished, groaning when she whimpered. "You're so tight, this could take ages. We'll need to come up with some stretches to cope with this." He teased gruffly, sliding in another finger and spreading her open. "Mm, Elizabeth, you need to relax. Relax." He murmured, latching onto her breast.

He felt her pussy clench down around his fingers and he took a greedy suckle from her breast, making Vega cry out his name, "Danse!" She twitched and writhed under his deft attack, her thighs quivering even as she tried to spread them wider for him. Her hand fell still on his cock, not that Danse minded. It had always been more about his partner, he couldn't care less if nothing was done for him. Watching someone else fall apart because of him...now that was its own reward.

"What do I need to do to get you there, hmm?" Danse taunted playfully, tonguing sloppily over the peak of her breast. "What will it take, Elizabeth?"

She arched her back in response, pressing her breast firmly against his mouth, and Danse gently nibbled on the sensitive area she had offered up. Elizabeth sobbed out, shoving one hand down to her cunt to spread herself even wider for his plundering fingers. "More, Danse! Please please please-" she begged, her moan when he pressed a third finger into her absolutely enough to have Danse hurrying to talk himself down. "Yes, Danse." She was practically growling, her arousal something primal and untamed.

If Danse had his way, it would stay like that forever.

"What is it that you want, Vega?" His inquiry was almost lazy, three fingers stroking in and out with much less resistance now. "Hmm, I wonder if you're wet enough to take me."

"You can't just-" Vega made a noise of dismay. "That's not fair, Danse, that's not fair, you know it's not. Please, please fuck me."

Jesus. Danse almost choked on his own breath, letting his fingers slip out of her cunt. "How do you want me?" His voice broke noticeably. It felt like a lifetime since he had been desired, wanted in such a blatant and strangely pure fashion. She loved him. She wanted him inside her. Wanted him to make love to her. Wanted him.

The speed at which she flung herself up a little higher on the bed made Danse want to laugh, but then she was arching her back and looking over her shoulder at him and he suddenly forgot how to breathe for a moment. "This okay?" She panted, brown hair all tumbled around her face as she took off her glasses and pitched them in the general direction of her bedside table.

Danse nodded hurriedly, kicking his pants off. "If you need me to stop, just grab my hand." He instructed.

"This isn't exactly my first time getting fucked, Danse-"

"Language," the paladin reprimanded her with a chuckle, greedily fondling her rear as he mounted up behind her. "You have such a beautiful form, Vega." He murmured, leaning over to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "An absolute vision."

"I do have nice tits."

Danse rolled his eyes, slipping his hands down to grope said breasts. She gasped out, rocking back against him as he agreed, "yes you do, that can't be denied. Soft, the perfect size, they fit in my hands so well, and so sensitive." He found himself laughing when she whimpered again. "Don't offer up all your weak spots unless you want them taken advantage of, Vega."

"The only thing I want to take advantage of right now is the raging hard-on I can feel." Elizabeth wriggled and Danse grunted, shuddering. "Pl-ease Danse, please put it in me."

The paladin slipped his cock between her labia, the hot, slick flesh pressing against him mercilessly as he teased her. He suddenly felt her fingers on his cock and then-

"Fuck." The paladin grated out the uncharacteristic curse through his teeth, his fists meeting the bedding on either side of her body as he fought the urge to thrust himself home in one breath.

Elizabeth half-collapsed while he slowly, slowly rutted into her, the woman panting and clawing at the blankets. "Mmmgod, Danse-" she slurred, sighing loudly. "So good, fuck, Danse…"

Danse toyed with her nipples, stupidly snarling "language," as she keened in reply. "I'll take care of you, Elizabeth. Be good for me." He pressed a kiss to her temple, smirking at the way her body quaked when he finally bottomed out in her. "That's it, look at you, taking all of me so well," he praised. "Now, how can I make you come?"

"Fu--Please use your big cock to get me off, oh please Danse!" She begged and Danse fondled her breasts yet again.

"You don't want me to touch you here, just like this?" He asked, stroking over her nipples and lingering to tease the area. "They're so hard, though, begging for my attention."

Backhand made a noise of despair, burying her face in her pillow.

"I think you need me to play with them, don't you? You like when I touch them like this." Danse muttered, thinking out loud and coming to that realization even as the words left his mouth. "What is it about it that you like?"

"S-Sensitive." Vega whimpered, "feels good."

Danse rumbled again, bending over to press his chest to her back so he could whisper in her ear, "does it feel good when I'm inside you, Elizabeth? Can you feel how hard I am for you? Feel how badly I need you?"

Elizabeth gifted him this pitiful sound, canting her hips and clenching down around his cock so tightly it took Danse's breath away. "Yes, I love it. I need you too, Danse." She murmured, shifting back and forth ever so slightly.

"Good. I'm glad." Danse took hold of her hips, seating his cock as deeply as he could in her cunt. Elizabeth whined, burying her face in her pillow again as he slowly began to make love to her.

Paladin Logan Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, had never been a man who took sex lightly. It was too important. Even after everything that had happened with Maxson, Danse still held to that belief. The display of vulnerability, the offer of power in exchange for pleasurable release, the brief moments of tenderness in an existence that was soul-crushingly difficult…

It was serious. It always was.

Vega's arms gave out and she slumped onto the bed, but Danse followed her down. Covering her with his body, the paladin thrust into her again and again, her soft whimpers and cries of his name music to his ears. "What do you need, sweetheart?" He asked raggedly when she began to squirm and arch back against him. "What can I give you, Elizabeth?"

"Fuck me, Danse!" She pleaded, turning her head to the side so she could see him.

"Language," Danse smiled, kissing her temple again. "But understood, ma'am."

…

For the first time since she'd awoken to an irradiated hellscape, Vega was wholly content to just lay down and be taken care of.

Danse was huge, proportionate to his already overgrown size, and he made the most incredible sounds when she inadvertently squeezed down on him. Groans burring in his chest like some untamed animal; he seemed content to just slowly fuck her into oblivion. Which was honestly more than she thought she would ever get.

Her fantasies, much as she'd believed they were wrong or silly at the time, didn't hold a candle to the reality of having Danse on top of her. She had gotten off more than once to this exact idea, being dominated and pinned by the massive paladin. This was a dream come true.

Elizabeth whined when he bottomed out in her again and just rutted himself back and forth slightly, making her feel every inch of his cock. The underside of his dick throbbed against the spot that made her see stars and then, the bastard, he slid his cock out of her cunt to press the head to her clit for a second. "Turn over for me?" He requested, punctuated by a gentle smack to her ass.

Vega rushed to obey, eager to have him back inside her as quickly as possible. The woman spread her legs wide so Danse could settle in between them and when the paladin did, he shifted upwards to kiss her tenderly.

"I've wanted this for so long." He admitted quietly.

"So have I!" Elizabeth replied in delight, her grin beaming. She was sure she looked like a mess, her hair stuck to her forehead with sweat and her face all flushed. But the way Danse was smiling at her…

She found she didn't really care about her appearance at this point in time.

"I love you." Danse murmured as he slid back inside her.

"I l-love you, Danse." Vega stuttered, the natural curvature of his cock applying steady pressure to her g-spot. "Make me feel so good, fuck."

"Language." He growled, making her laugh and then moan.

"Feels too good, brain can't cope." She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck and tugging him closer until all he could do was grind down into her in a merciless manner. The motion flung her towards her peak, disconnecting her mouth even further from her brain and making her ramble into his ear, "God, I love you so much, make me feel so good--"

"I love you too, Elizabeth." He panted into the hollow of her throat, "you feel incredible. Outstanding."

Elizabeth wasn't sure how she could feel both so aroused she thought she might die and so annoyed that she wanted to explode. "Danse, did you just call my pussy outstanding?"

"It's not an incorrect statement, from my perspective. It's perfect. Wet and tight and hot." The paladin praised her freely, a hand lowering to apply gentle pressure over the scar on her lower stomach. "Beautiful."

I am not going to cry, Vega told herself sternly as she hid her face in Danse's neck. Definitely not going to cry, not going to.

A sob somehow escaped her as she came and Danse froze, his whole body flinching when her cunt clenched down on his dick. "V...Vega?" He asked tentatively.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, I promise, m'not hurt or anything. My brain is just dumb." Elizabeth hiccupped, rubbing her eyes. "I'm okay, Danse, I'm fine."

The paladin seemed uncertain and she couldn't blame him, she didn't seem fine even if she felt a thousand times better than she had in literal months.

"I swear I'm okay, that was just...it was really intense, y'know?" She mumbled awkwardly, unable to make eye contact anymore.

She felt Danse shift his weight and then he settled down on top of her, holding her close and tight. "You're sure?" He murmured, "if you're overwhelmed, that's entirely acceptable. I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"No, shit no, you feel incredible. I'm not going to be able to walk after this." Vega huffed, giggling a little when he rolled his eyes. "Keep going, okay? It feels fantastic."

"If you're certain." Danse acquiesced, kissing a hot trail down her neck when she nodded. "Let me know if you need me to stop."

Watching his forearms cord with muscle as he propped himself back up again, Vega's mouth went dry. "I have to say, this might be the best night of my life."

Danse pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead, the tenderness of the action a wonderful contrast to the needy way he sheathed his cock in her body once more. "I've thought about this." He confessed again, punctuated by a roll of his hips. "What you'd sound like, look like beneath me. You put my imagination to shame."

"What did I do in your dreams?" Backhand asked, unable to keep from breathlessly laughing when Danse hid his face in her neck. "So shy, Paladin! Even with that huge cock in me?"

"It's lewd, Elizabeth, I-I'm not proud of it." He mumbled. "Shouldn't have thought of you that way." He spread her legs wider, one hand on the back of each knee to urge her to bend.

"Mm, you thought about fucking me? Nice to know I'm not the only one with dirty thoughts."

"I did not." He protested staunchly. His cock slid back and forth between her pussy lips in a purposeful teasing motion. "I thought about how...I thought about how good it would feel to make love to you." He continued, his voice wavering slightly as his dick brushed her entrance and he plunged deep yet again. "Thought about how good I could make you feel."

Now it was Vega's turn to be shy, the woman looking away from him and flushing.

"It was still inappropriate at the...time, but I assure you it was never about that. I am not-" Danse struggled for a moment to find the words, before he sighed and rested his forehead against her own. "This already isn't simple, and I know I make it miles less so. Forgive me."

"I feel like it's pretty simple." Vega gasped, twitching as his fingers landed on her clit. "I f--fuck, Danse--I feel like it's real simple. You like me. Love me, yeah?"

"It's more than that, dammit." Danse growled, rubbing her clit in merciless circles. "What you did for me...how can I ever be worth your affection? Hell, your time?"

Elizabeth threw her head back, arching her entire body up into his chest. "Whatever good I give to you," she moaned, almost exasperated that they were even having this discussion, "you deserve it. Take it."

Danse's hands latched down on her hips, thumbs stroking back and forth over her pronounced stretch marks as he fucked into her so fiercely that Vega swore she saw stars. His pelvis ground against her own, body hair providing a delicious new sensation that had Vega grasping at the blankets in an effort to keep herself grounded. "I'm going to come, Elizabeth." Danse panted. "Where do you-"

"Inside." Backhand implored him, "come inside me, Paladin, please come inside me-" Her voice broke as she begged and Danse groaned loud, the sound incredulous.

"You...inside? Are you sure?" He asked through gritted teeth, dark brown eyes conveying his uncertainty. In reply, Vega dug the heels of her feet in beneath his rear, effectively locking him in place.

She caught a handful of his hair, gently tugging it until he leaned down again so she could seethe in his ear, "yes."

"Oh, dammit." With that wonderfully characteristic swear, Danse shoved his mouth against hers gracelessly. The heat in her belly spilled over from the onslaught of his enthusiastic thrusts and Backhand cried out, fingernails digging into his back when she came a second time.

Danse, either spurred on by her sounds or by the way her pussy gripped his dick (maybe a combination? Backhand mused) found his release seconds after, his voice breaking and dropping into a lower tone as he moaned her name. Her real name.

Elizabeth.

Vega cupped the nape of his neck, guiding his face into the hollow of her shoulder. "Lay down, sweetheart, you're shaking." She murmured, stroking over his quivering back.

"Don't want to flatten you." Danse rasped, his dick still throbbing inside her.

"Lay down. It's okay." Elizabeth flexed her bicep. "I'm strong, I can handle it." Danse laughed wearily, almost immediately going limp on top of her. She wrapped her arms back around him, fingers digging into the knots that she found to ease out the tension. "There, isn't that better?"

"Mmmmuch." Danse slurred into her neck, sounding exhausted. "Love you."

"I love you. Sleep, okay? We'll get cleaned up later. Right now though you seem like you could use a nap."

Danse nodded, the tangled mess of his hair mashed flat against her cheek in the process. "Want...to be a good parent." He mumbled several minutes later, just as Vega had thought he was dozing off. Danse propped himself up with one arm, cradling Vega's cheek in his palm. His thumb absently traced the cryo burn marks from the stasis as he continued, "a true partner for you. I don't know if you...if you even want me in that capacity, I--I don't know whether you would prefer that Shaun thinks of me as simply your friend, but I-"

"Danse," Elizabeth interrupted him sternly, raising an eyebrow. "Someone who's simply a friend wouldn't be balls deep in me."

Danse sputtered, his blush spreading down his neck to his chest. Despite his proclivity for dirty talk in the moment, he was endearingly embarrassed by her blunt words. Vega felt her heart pound as he floundered to collect himself, the large man looking away.

He's really nothing at all like Nate.

"Danse." Her voice was gentler this time, unmistakable affection bleeding through. "I would have to ask Shaun, of course, and I'd like to have an adjustment period before I do so that he can get comfortable with the idea on his own, but…" The young woman swallowed hard. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Oh sure, she could handle the vulnerability of being naked and fucked with absolute abandon but this? This was where her brain drew the line? Unbelievable, Backhand grumbled at herself. "I think the odds are in your favor." She concluded with a grin.

"You...even though I'm not-?"

"He's probably the last person to care about that kinda' stuff, Danse. C'mon." Vega chided, running her fingers through his sweaty hair. "Now. We are...absolutely disgusting. We need a bath big time."

"I...you're right, of course." Danse agreed absently, still seeming shocked at the whole scenario. "I should...w-we should bathe. Er, at the same time. To save water." He didn't meet her eyes, his attention focused somewhere by her left shoulder.

Elizabeth laughed, bumping their foreheads together before carefully scooting up the bed. His cock slipped out of her and she couldn't help her sigh, the noise echoed by the paladin who tilted his chin to catch her with a kiss.

"You are amazing." He breathed when they parted, his smile small but sincere. "I'm...I'll be hard-pressed to keep my hands off you, Elizabeth."

"Why bother?" Vega asked, chuckling as he ducked back in for another kiss.

...

Hours later, Danse laid awake while Elizabeth slept peacefully on his chest. The paladin stared up at the ceiling, his mind running rampant.

The future.

He hadn't really dared to think about it since discovering his true identity. Hadn't felt like it was something he deserved. After all, if he was just a machine, it hardly mattered. But Elizabeth…

She thought it mattered. She wanted him. Wanted him to stay with her. Wanted him to act as a father. Pending Shaun's approval, of course.

It was surreal how much his life had changed, how far they had come in such a short amount of time. Danse was a little overwhelmed by it all, if he was being honest. Scared, yet hopeful at the same time. And, he thought as he wrapped his arm around Elizabeth, incredibly, immensely grateful.

This new world was unforgiving, the universe coldly testing the mettle of a man time and again. But Danse had finally come out the other side, and he liked to think he had changed for the better.

Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

Ad Victoriam, General Vega. Thank you for having faith in me.

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse imagine #fallout fandom #fallout fanfic #slow burn #Eventual romance #The Happy Ending #that's right #paladin danse x f!sole #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #epilogue #the gang's all here

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