#if anything still needs details you can poke me bout them

[byalexisness]

☆parties aren't allowed

Oliver Aiku x fem! reader

in which you want to go to a party but oliver has other plans with you.

content warning: nsfw!!, yandere themes, established relationship, dirty talking, daddy kink, praising, rough sex, slight size kink and breeding kink if you squint, unprotected sex, possesive! character, overstimulation, biting, slight begging, orgasm denial

do i even have to mention it was pookies idea??? @ringasm best writer of the year!!! my girl has them ideas

first time writing detailed smut <3

"oliiii." you called out with a smile, barging into yours and your boyfriend's shared room.

oliver was laying on his bed, watching a stupid movie that played on the big, expensive TV on the wall. his heterochromatic eyes turned to you, a brow raising at your outfit.

a black, long-sleeved and tight top was hugging your pretty frame, accentuating your chest. its low-cut neck showed your cleavage while its shortness exposed your pretty tummy. his eyes fell on the short, leather skirt barely covering your ass and then, lower to your pretty, black thigh-highs.

"and where do you think you think you are going dressed like that?" his eyes were shamelessly wandering all over your body, taking the way your wonderful body looked.

"at sae's party! can i go? please, please, pleaseeee!" you said with a sweet smile and puppy eyes, which you knew he couldn't resist.

"no." his voice was stern and his eyes traveled up from your cleavage to your face. the red lipstick serving as a decoration on your lips made his breath hitched, along with the way your eyes saddened. "you aren't getting out of the house tonight. end of discussion."

"but oli..." you whined and looked at him with a pout.

"c'mere, lovely." he said and you crossed your arms, shaking your head. "princess, don't make me repeat myself."

with a deep sigh, you dragged your feet towards the king-sized bed he was laying on and stood in front of it, arms still crossed and the pout still there. the sight made oliver chuckle and he sat up on his butt, pulling you on his lap.

"come on, don't be mad at me, my love. you promised me you will stay with me tonight." he said softly as his lips attached to your neck. you actually didn't promise anything, but he just couldn't let you go to his friend's party dressed so...alluring.

"but i wanna go there!" another whine left your lips, both because you were mad and because his lips felt heavenly against your neck.

"shh. no more 'bout that silly party, we will have much more fun here." oliver's deep voice rang into your ears, driving you mad. his wet kisses on your neck made you lose your composure immediately and let out low mewls. "that's it, my good girl." he purred into your ear and you could feel his cock throbbing in his sweaters, poking your ass.

with a swift move, you were under him and his lips were glued to your neck again, nibbling on it softly. your hands went to his soft locks, gripping them as you let your body sink into the matress.

greedy hands grabbed your clothed breasts tightly, massaging the fat, making you yelp and moan.

your sounds were sweet in his ears, musically feeding into his already big ego. "oli, oli, please..."

a harsh grip on your left breast was all you needed to correct yourself. "daddy, please!"

"that's a good girl." that's all he mumbled against your neck, sucking a few love bites on it.

in a few moments, you heard the loud sound of fabric ripping and you found yourself half naked in front of your boyfriend. he ripped your top off without any effort. oliver threw the ripped material somewhere around the room and got rid off your bra.

his mouth continued biting and sucking, paiting your skin with dark hickeys, until he reached your breasts. while his hand played with the hardened nipple of your left breast, his mouth latched onto your right one, sucking greedily.

he was such a sucker for your breasts...

"such pretty tits, all mine. all mine, mine, mine." he almost growled, your nipple still touching his lips. he nibbled on it needily, feeling his cock throbbing in his pants.

in no time, your skirt and panties were scattered around the room, along with his clothes.

hard rock cock in his left hand, stroking himself slowly, as his right worked skillfully on your clit. whines and moans left your mouth as you looked at him through teary eyes, need flowing through your veins.

"such a dirty girl...wanting to get away from me to go to a stupid party." oliver smirked as he saw your hips stuttering while his hand rubbed circles on your clit. he could see the way your cunt clenched around nothing, begging to be stuffed full of his cock.

"perhaps you wanted to tempt me into this by wearing that outfit, mmm?" he leaned over you as he whispered in your ear.

"n-no, noo...mgh...daddy, please..." you whined as you felt your orgasm approaching rapidly.

just as you were about to reach your oh so wanted high, you felt his fingers losing contact with your clit. you cried out frustarted and shot him a begging look.

"shh, shh. don't worry, 'll take care of you. gonna stuff this pretty hole up and make you forget about that party. you'll only want more when i'm done with you." his smirk told everything as he aligned himself at your entrance.

your eyes shone with need and a loud moan escaped your lips when he thrusted his whole cock inside you without warning.

"a-ah! too big, oli! t-too big!" you cried out as your pussy throbbed in pain and pleasure.

"shh, shh. you can take it, right? you've taken it before. be a good princess and take it." he shushed you before pressing his lips against yours, waiting for you to adjust his girth.

you could only whine in his mouth as tears watered your lower lash line, nails gripping his shoulders tightly.

after he saw you relax a little and nod in approval, his hips thrusted into you relentlessly. you felt his tip kissing your cervix as you could only cry and clench around him.

"you take me so well, baby. you are so good for me, such a pretty girl. all for me, right?" he whispered in your ear, his voice making you dizzy and you nodded needily.

you cries and begs only increased in volume as his hips picked up their pace and he kept his mouth occupied by either biting on your shoulders or sucking on your tits.

"close, c-close, i'm close, oli!" you cried in pure bliss as your orgasm approached and his stupid smirk only grew. he decided to help you a little and his hand started toying with your sensitive clit.

"cum for me, let me hear you." the flithy words he spoke and the simple motion made you lose your mind. your body convulsed under his, the pleasure increasing and making you cum.

however, as you rode out your orgasm, you noticed he wasn't stopping at all, snapping his hips aggressively against yours, chasing his high. "o-oli, oli, please s-slow down!" you yelled, overstimulated.

"wanna breed this pretty cunt, wanna make you full of my cum.." he growled lowly, your words only making him speed up and his thrust become even harsher.

in a few thrusts, you felt a well-known warm liquid fill you up, your eyes rolling back as came for the second time, your left hand gripping his.

pants and heavy breaths could be heard as oliver stilled inside you. the sight of you so fucked out, red lipstick all around your mouth, pretty eyes filled with tears of pleasure and lust made his cock harden again.

"ready for the second round, my love?"

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Summary: Tommy’s doctor finally clears him for sex.

Word Count: 6,406 

Warnings: Smut.

Notes: I’m so sorry it took me so long to come out with this. Job/internship hunting has been absolute hell and super draining of all my motivation lately.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 17: This is Love

“Tommy?” Lucy frowned up at him from her spot curled against his chest, head tilting in puzzlement. 

He was staring at the spot right next to their bed, eyes wide and brows pinched together. Lucy glanced from him to the empty space, squinting in the darkness of the room but unable to make out anything–or anyone–there.

Looking back to him, she reached up to stroke his dark fringe from his face to get his attention, his eyes snapping to hers at the first brush of her fingertips like he’d just remembered she was there.

His eyes held that glazed over, not-quite-there look that she’d grown used to seeing when he was on the morphine. He’d had a bout of pain shortly before bed–enough to make him wince, jaw clenching as he fought to ignore it–and under her encouragement took a small dosage of the medicine so he could sleep. He was still trying to wean himself off of it, but on occasions like these, she figured it was better for him to find some relief from the discomfort rather than just suffer through an entire night of agony and sleeplessness. 

“Are you alright?” she whispered. 

“Mm…” he hummed, blinking so slowly for a moment she thought he’d just fallen asleep or passed out before he opened his eyes again. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thought I saw…” his eyes darted to the space next to their bed. “‘S nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Lucy tilted her head, curious. But he seemed so tired and out of it that she decided not to press any further.

“Okay,” she just said, stroking the back of his head gingerly, pulling him closer. Tommy snuggled against her happily, nestling in close with his arms around her and his face buried in her neck. “Try to sleep, love.”

“Hm…” he let out a deep, contented groan with his exhale, body slumping against hers. Lucy let her eyes dart one last time to the spot he’d been staring at, brows furrowing. 

It was probably just an effect of the morphine. If there was anything or anyone in the room with them, Asher surely would have alerted them to it.

Contented with the thought, she closed her eyes, settling in against Tommy’s warmth. 

By the time morning came, the incident was forgotten about entirely. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Tommy knew that he was making the doctor nervous; staring him down sternly from his spot seated at the edge of the bed while he went about examining him. This was a new one. Apparently his regular doctor who’d been making the visits to the house to check in on him had some sort of family emergency he needed to tend to. So they’d sent this one instead. A nice enough man who clearly knew just enough about Tommy to know that he should be scared of him, but not enough to understand the intricate details of his personal situation. When he was introduced to Lucy at the door, his eyebrows had lifted, gaze shifting between the two of them while he tried–and failed–to hide his indignation at an unmarried woman living with a recently widowed man.

“Everything seems to be well in order,” the doctor said, having finished poking around the spot on Tommy’s head where they’d cut him open. The stitches were long gone, hair finally permitted to grow back where it had been shaved it away for the surgery and to keep an eye on the incisions.   

Good thing, too. He’d looked ridiculous with a fucking bald spot in the middle of his head. 

“I’d say only a few more weeks and you can consider yourself fully recovered,” the doctor continued, reaching into his pocket. “I’ve brought a fresh vial of morphine for you today,” he set it down on the nightstand. 

Tommy frowned, jaw clenching as he eyed the vial warily, internally debating whether or not to tell the doctor of the unsettling images that sometimes passed across his open eyes after taking a dosage of the medicine. But after a moment’s consideration decided against it. The last thing he needed was anyone suggesting that he belonged in the loony bin because he was seeing visions of his housekeeper standing naked beside his bed. He hadn’t even told Lucy about that one, yet. 

“But after this I’ll be discontinuing the prescription. Since you said your pain isn’t so bad anymore,” the doctor shot Tommy a nervous look. “You can always put in a request for more, should you need it.”

“Yes, that’s fine,” Tommy nodded, relieved. It was true that the pain wasn’t present enough anymore to really warrant taking the stuff. And visions aside, he hated how clouded it made his head feel.

A soft knock tapped at the door, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Come,” Tommy called, and the door opened, Lucy poking her head in. A red curl loosened from where it was tucked behind her ear, the deep crimson all the more emphasized against the paleness of her freckled cheek.

“Sorry to bother you. Ada’s here.”

Tommy beckoned for her to step deeper into the room. “We were just finishing.”

Ada had started coming over for dinner once a week to visit and check in on him. Of all of the family outside of Lucy, she was the one he’d seen the most of. Arthur and John had only swung by a handful of times, and Polly hadn’t come to visit at all. 

Not entirely surprising. She would probably be avoiding both of them for as long as she could get away with. That was all right; he wasn’t in a particular mood to see her yet either, considering what she’d done. Accidental as her fuck up may have been; it still stung. 

But he was appreciative of Ada’s continued, consistent presence. Something had shifted, ever since Grace’s death. And not just between him and his sister, but between her and Lucy, too; Ada had softened considerably around her. Tommy would almost dare to say that they’d grown friendly. 

He was glad. Lucy needed more friends.

The doctor cleared his throat, straightening his back and closing the file he’d been making notes in.   

“Well, Mr. Shelby, unless you have any other concerns, I am prepared to clear you for most physical activities. I understand that you are an avid equestrian. You are well enough to start that up again, should you like. Though I do advise you to take care. If you were to fall and hit your head again it could interfere with the progress you’ve made in your recovery.”

Tommy shot him a stern, mildly offended look, unable to hide his irritation at the suggestion that he was prone to falling off his horses. The doctor sputtered, realizing too late his verbal misstep, and began to hastily stuff his papers back into his briefcase. Tommy tried not to take too much satisfaction in the shakiness he noted in the man’s hands as he snapped the briefcase closed and took hold of the handle.

Gaze shifting from glowering at the doctor, Tommy met Lucy’s deep green eyes from where she was still standing across the room by the door. She tilted her head, eyes darting from him, to the doctor, then back to him. She raised one single, carefully plucked eyebrow, an impishness entering her features that was practically contagious; a smirk pulling at the corner of one side of his lips before he could stop himself.

“What about sex?” Tommy asked with no preamble, snapping his gaze back to the doctor. The man turned scarlet, fumbling with and nearly dropping his briefcase. Tommy had to battle with his smirk to keep it from growing at the reaction, leaning back with his hands planted on either side of him and meeting the flustered doctor’s gaze head on, both eyebrows raised expectantly.

“O-oh. Well…” for a heartbeat, he looked away from Tommy to Lucy. She met his eyes steadily, impish smile still settled on her lips, unflinching and unashamed. The doctor’s blush deepened, looking back at Tommy. Keeping his features carefully controlled; Tommy allowed a silent challenge to slide onto his face, daring the doctor to say anything confrontational or disapproving. Finally, stuttering a few more times, the doctor managed to find his voice. “That would…that would fall under physical activities, I suppose, so…um…erm…well, I…yes,” he finally managed to get out. “Yes, that should be fine.”

Tommy looked back at Lucy from over the doctor’s shoulder. She’d pressed her knuckles to her lips to try to hide her smile, but when she caught him looking at her, she dropped her hand, face alight with anticipatory excitement. Tommy looked her up and down hungrily. As had grown typical during their time at home, she’d forgone her usual suit jacket, leaving her in just a pair of trousers and a snugly fitting black waistcoat pulled over her white button down shirt. The waistcoat nicely hugged the curves of her breasts and the dip in her waist, meeting the waistband of her slacks where her hips flared out. Tommy felt his throat go dry at the memory of squeezing those hips while propping her up against the nearest suitable surface, her hands clutching at his shoulders or tracing along the back of his head to pull him closer while he thrusted and she moaned.   

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on her. 

Based on the way her face had changed whilst he stared at her; eyes darkening and lips parting slightly, he knew that she shared the sentiment.

Considering how bloody long it had been, the doctor was probably lucky they didn’t jump on each other then and there right in front of him. 

“Thank you for coming, doctor,” Lucy said, though her eyes kept darting back to Tommy’s as if pulled by an invisible string. Tommy didn’t bother glancing at the doctor again, only grunting in acknowledgement at the man’s stuttered pleasantries. Lucy ushered him out the door with a polite smile. “Mary will see you out,” she told him once he was in the hall, gesturing to where Tommy assumed Mary was hovering nearby to escort the man from the house. 

Rising from his seat while she closed the door, Tommy strode across the room towards her. Just as the latch clicked into place she turned, facing him again, and he was almost knocked off balance by the warm excitement in her eyes. It lit her entire features, gaze soft and cheeks adorably flushed just the slightest shades of pink.

He couldn’t have wanted her more if he’d tried.  

Capturing the back of her head with one large palm, he rested the other on her hip, pulling her closer and crashing his mouth down onto hers. Her small hands fisted in the front of his shirt, mouth opening to his with a small moan. Growling, Tommy wasted no time sliding his tongue into her mouth, the feeling of her breasts pressing against his chest making his head spin while her arms circled around his neck, holding tight as they kissed.

The hand on her hip roamed, first running over the curves of her waist before circling around to squeeze a handful of her ass. At the same time, Lucy’s fingertips stroked along the sensitive back of his head, fluttering around the nape of his neck, and he made a whining noise that under other circumstances he would’ve been embarrassed by. But his brain wasn’t anywhere close to functioning properly at the moment; blood rushing south to pool in his cock. Any coherent thoughts he might have been capable of had all fallen right out of his head. 

“Mm…” he wasn’t even aware of walking them backwards until her back met the edge of a dresser. The small moan she released against his lips instead held his full attention, pulling away from her mouth only so he could pepper eager kisses across her cheekbone and down along her neck. She smelled of roses, smoke, and vanilla, the scent almost fully enveloping him when he pushed his face into her neck. Lucy sighed, hand tangling gently into his hair, and with both hands planted on her waist he lifted her up, settling her onto the dresser with his thigh slotting between her opened legs while he sucked at her throat until her voice raised a pitch.

Tugging lightly on his hair, she pulled his face back up to hers, kissing him again fervently while he started to roll his hips forward, rutting his clothed cock against her. That, combined with pressing his thigh more firmly against her so she would have something solid to grind on, earned him a moan. Repeating the motion got him another, and soon they were grinding feverishly against one another, Tommy caressing and kissing every inch of her he could get to. But when he reached for the clasp on her trousers she made a sound of protest and pulled her mouth away from his, giggling and turning her head away when he tried to follow her. 

“Tommy,” she rested both palms flat against his chest, leaning back to look at him. Ceasing his movements, he fought back a whine, keeping her held securely in his arms. Lucy sighed, dropping her head forward to rest against his collarbone. “Your sister is waiting for us downstairs.”

Tommy blinked. He’d completely forgotten about Ada; too ecstatic at the thought of finally being able to have sex with Lucy again that everything else might as well have entirely evaporated. Blinking slowly, he tried to right his mind, not at all helped by the fact that she was still rubbing circles into the spot where his neck met his back.

Groaning, perhaps a touch overdramatically, he let his head fall forward to rest against her shoulder. Lucy chuckled, wrapping her arms around him.

“We’ve managed to hold out for this long. I think we can survive getting through dinner.”

He grumbled, even though he knew that she was right, and she pecked her smiling lips to his temple, giving him one final, greatly unfair squeeze with her leg where it had wound around his waist before pushing him not unkindly back a few steps so she could hop off the dresser. Patting down her hair, she then smoothed her small palms over his chest, trying to rid his shirt of the creases they’d created. He halfheartedly readjusted her waistcoat for her, raising an eyebrow when he took notice of the way her hands lingered on his chest. Head tilting up, she pecked him quickly on the lips, then pulled back and swiped her thumb along where he was assuming she’d left a lipstick smudge on him. His hand cradled the side of her head, feeling the ridiculous softness of her hair and the warmth of her cheek.

“We make it quick,” he said simply. Lucy huffed. 

“We can’t be rude to Ada, Tommy.”

“I could tell the chef to skip a few courses.”

Lucy shot him a glare. “You take away my desserts, Shelby, and you can enjoy the company of your hand this evening.”

He felt himself pale a little. His own fault, really. He’d known Lucy long enough to know not to get between her and her cakes. “I didn’t…okay, fine, just��”

Lucy snickered, stroking his jaw. “I’m kidding. Mostly. We’ll eat fast. Limit the small talk,” she was dangerously close to him considering that his self-control was barely hanging on by a thread. “She’ll be out of here before we know it,” and then, because apparently she loved torturing him, she pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Closing his eyes with a small sound, he battled back the desire to grab her and toss her onto the bed he’d been seated on just moments ago. 

“Yeah,” it came out as a rough rasp, “We should go downstairs,” before I pounce on you again. Lucy nodded, but it wasn’t lost on him how her breath seemed to catch in her throat, gaze flickering over him, tongue darting out to wet her lips. 

“Right,” she seemed to shake herself from whatever admiring daze she’d briefly fallen into. His entire body ached in protest when she took a step away from him and he cleared his throat as he reached down to adjust himself in his trousers. Lucy giggled, and he shot her a look.

“Is my suffering amusing to you?”

That just made her laugh again. “We’re suffering together, love. You think I’m not aching too?” that impish smile was back, brow quirked mischievously as she reached out to take his hand. Tommy groaned and closed his eyes. 

“You can’t say things like that right now.”

She snickered, squeezing his fingers and beginning to lead him to the door. Tommy sighed, following her out into the hall. 

She was right. They’d survived countless meals without jumping on each other since they’d been home. Surely they could survive one more.  

Of his own accord, his eyes trailed down her body, to stare at the way her hips swayed when she walked, and he sighed. 

This was going to be the longest bloody dinner of his entire fucking life. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Lucy couldn’t help but feel a little bad as she watched Tommy usher Ada out the door, Ada’s expression somewhat baffled at his seemingly overeagerness to shoo her from the house.

Dinner had been lovely. Or, it would have been, had she not spent so much of it trying very hard to think about anything but what Tommy was going to be doing to her later; images of his head buried between her thighs, or the sounds of his growls when he thrust, kept cycling on a loop in her mind, not helped by the heated looks he kept shooting her from across the table. 

“Say bye-bye to Auntie Ada, Charlie,” she said to the boy where he was settled heavily in her arms, his head resting on her chest, already half asleep. 

“Bye, Charlie,” Ada smiled at him.

“Bye, Auntie Ada,” he managed in his high little voice. Ada chuckled, giving him a kiss on the forehead before hugging Lucy with one arm. 

“It was good to see you,” Lucy said. Undesirable as the timing might have been, she was enjoying getting to see more of Ada.

“You too,” Ada beamed, stepping back to let Tommy guide her the remainder of the way outside, the pair mumbling their goodbyes and hugging before Ada stepped into her car. Lucy waved to her from the doorway as the Bentley started to drive off into the night. Tommy watched her go, hands stuffed into his pockets, before turning on his heel and heading back inside the house. Watching him shut and lock the door, she adjusted Charlie in her arms. 

“It was a nice visit,” she commented. Tommy grunted in a way she knew not to be dismissive but simply in agreement. “At least things have been relatively peaceful while you’ve recovered.”

Or maybe they just weren’t informing them of any problems because Lucy had told them to leave them the fuck alone. But she figured that if there were any massive fuckups they would have inevitably heard about it by now. 

Charlie let out a tiny snore against her neck, and she snorted, craning her head to look affectionately at him. He adored Ada, and was always so excited when she came around. But that excitement always seemed to leave him exhausted.

Probably a good thing. Hopefully he would sleep through the entire night. 

Tommy reached out to caress his cheek, smiling softly. “I can put him to bed, if you’d like,” he offered.

“Okay,” it took some careful maneuvering to transfer Charlie to Tommy without waking him, but the boy barely stirred, just snuggled up against Tommy’s chest without even a sound.

Not that Lucy could blame him. She knew from experience just how comfy Tommy’s chest was, after all.  

“I need to take Asher out,” she said. “Then I’ll come up to bed.”

She could see the desire nearly overtake Tommy’s features, Adam’s apple bobbing while he swallowed.

“Don’t take too long,” his voice had dropped an octave. Lucy nodded, fingers fiddling with her rings in an attempt to get her mind to focus on anything other than just how badly she wanted him to touch her. 

“I won’t.”

He gave her a swift peck on the forehead before heading towards the stairs with Charlie. Every booming step against the floor seemed to do nothing but serve as a reminder to her hormone-drenched mind of the power and strength within that body; how he could scoop her up and toss her around without barely any effort at all–

Giving her head a firm shake to try to dislodge her thoughts, she whistled for Asher, waiting until he’d bounded up to her side before heading to open the door. Watching him race about a few times before pissing on a tree, she crossed her arms over her chest, shoulder leaning against the doorway, keeping the heavy wood propped open. 

“Asher,” she called, whistling when he began to wander across the lawn. The huge black shepherd glanced over his shoulder at her, tail wagging. “Come on, boy.” 

He shot across the lawn towards her, but a black streak against the grass, barely skidding to a stop in front of her in time before he would have smacked into her legs. Ushering him inside, she got a bone from the maids for him to gnaw on, coaxing him to lay in one of the dog beds they kept in the various sitting rooms. 

“Good boy,” she said, prompting a swish of his fluffy tail as she gave him a final scratch behind the ears. Pulling away, she half jogged up the stairs and down the hall to her shared bedroom with Tommy.

He wasn’t there yet when she opened the door and stepped in, so she busied herself removing the simple golden rings she wore on her fingers and the little gold hoops in her ears, dropping them carefully into her jewelry box. Shucking off her waistcoat, which she folded carefully over the chair in front of her vanity, she was left in just her button-down and slacks, examining herself in the mirror with her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. A sudden rush of giddiness flooded over her, and she fumbled to try to fix her hair, the unruly curls stubborn and uncooperative in her attempts to smooth them down. 

It was then that the bedroom door crashed open, and she barely had enough time to turn around to face Tommy before he had kicked the door shut behind him, strode across the room, and pulled her into the circle of his arms, his mouth colliding down onto hers with the desperation of someone who’d gone days without water and was finally offered a drink.  

Arms wrapping around him instantaneously, Lucy parted her lips to his, swallowing the deep groan of relief he released from his throat. 

Ever since their first night back home, there had been a voice in the back of her head, reminding her with every brush of lips, every touch, that they needed to be careful not to get carried away. That she needed to remember the importance of self restraint. 

And her self restraint had been monumentous. It took nearly everything she had not to climb him like a tree on the days he decided to walz around the house in just a close fitting shirt and well tailored slacks. Just the subtle shifting and clenching of his jaw was enough to have her practically drooling. But the nights were the hardest; curled beside him, her in just a thin nightgown and him in only his boxers, their bodies entangled–even if they tried to sleep in the same bed without touching they always would wake up snuggled against one another–and it took everything in her not to angle her head up to kiss his throat or slide her hand into his shorts.  

But now that voice was banished and silenced; its presence no longer necessary.

She intended to absolutely gorge herself on him. 

Tommy’s hands shifted where they were wrapped around her to instead grip her shirt with both hands. In one sudden movement, the fabric ripped, and buttons went flying, clattering and rolling along the floor in every direction. Lucy moaned at the action, tattered remains of the shirt falling to the floor, and when her fingers slid into his hair he made a sound that went straight to her core, thighs squeezing together needily.

Scrambling to get him out of his own shirt, her head tilted back, eyes fluttering closed when he broke their kiss to instead press his lips along her jaw, then down her throat. He slipped off her bra expertly, hands moving to cup both her breasts the moment that they were freed to the cool air. At the first stroke of his thumbs over her hardened nipples she whimpered, finally managing to shove his shirt to the floor, running her hands hungrily across his warm, bare skin. 

“Lucy,” he whispered, pulling his face from where it was settled in the crook of her neck, forehead leaning against hers. His smokey breath fanned out warmly against her cheeks, chest rising up and down rapidly beneath her palms. 

“Please,” she could feel herself growing wetter by the minute, nearly trembling with desire. He kissed her again, hands falling to her hips, rubbing circles into the skin of her waist before he started to fumble with her belt. The metal clinked, like a delicate percussion to accompany the melody of their heavy breathing and desperate moans. 

“I want you…” Tommy groaned, nipping at her shoulder and then soothing the sting of his bite with a swipe of his tongue. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so badly before…”

“That’s because…because..hah–” she cut herself off briefly with a gasp when he drew her close enough that she could feel the massive bulge in his trousers pressing into her stomach. “That’s ‘cos you’ve never had to go so long without sex before,” she finally got out. Tommy raised his head, swiping away a few locks of hair that had fallen into her face and looking at her seriously.

“No. It’s not just ‘cos of that,” he said sternly, thumb rubbing along her cheek. Lucy felt her cheeks warm at the sudden deep love she saw in his eyes, glancing away bashfully and stuttering. Tommy chuckled, curling two fingers under her chin to tilt her head up so he could kiss her again, and with the fastenings on her trousers fully loosened he used both hands to push them down off of her hips to pool around her ankles. Stepping out of fabric, she cupped the side of his face with one hand, lightly scratching the nails of the other down his bicep. 

A growl rumbled low in Tommy’s chest, and that was all it took to have her fumbling with his belt, yanking it near violently until it finally came loose. And then he was helping her to shove down his trousers, still kissing her as he gripped her hips and lifted her up, carrying her the short distance to the bed. Arms braced on either side of her, he dropped on top of her the moment her back hit the mattress, kissing her twice more on the lips before migrating his mouth to her neck, tongue gliding over the spot he knew made her breath hitch.

He was everywhere; on top of and around her, and yet she still wanted him closer. She traced her fingers along his chest, over his powerful shoulders, then down his back, enjoying the feeling of his muscles flexing in response to her touch. 

When he rolled his hips against hers, erection only separated from her by the thin fabric of her knickers and his boxers, she nearly collapsed in on herself. Her legs trembled where they had crossed over his waist when he first picked her up, core spasming around nothing. 

“Mm…” Tommy rocked his hips forward again, grinding against her desperately. 

“Please,” she choked out again, fingers splaying out at the base of his head, the shorter part of his hair tickling her palm. “Tommy, please. Please, please, please…”

He lifted his head, wetting his lips while his eyes swept over her whole body, making her shiver, his pupils blown so wide there was barely any blue left at all.

“You begging me, love?” he asked. The warmth of his hand against her thigh made her jump, big fingers stroking delicately over the sensitive skin. 

She nodded frantically. “Yeah. Yes,” any and all shame had died within her the moment he stepped into the room and pulled her into his arms. 

He groaned, mouth falling back to hers, as if he couldn’t stand to not be kissing her. Both of his hands rubbed up and down her thighs, then curled around the material of her knickers. With a sudden yank he ripped them right off her, tossing the ruined scrap of fabric away.

“I liked those,” she somehow found enough mental capacity to lament their death, words mumbled into Tommy’s mouth.

“I’ll buy you some new ones,” he promised, just before his tongue slid against hers and silenced all other conversation. Not that she would have probably been able to get any other words out anyway, because he chose that moment to swipe his fingers through her wetness, and any form of higher communication she might have been capable of was replaced by a loud whimper. His thumb circled lightly over her clit, giving her just the slightest of brushes, and she grabbed tightly onto his bicep, squeezing.

“I’m ready, I’m ready,” she chanted. Much as she would love to let him stretch her around his fingers or bury his face between her thighs, there would be time for that later. Right now she needed his cock. 

Clearly Tommy agreed, pulling back–earning a whine in response from her–and sitting up to shove his white boxers down, kicking them off and taking his engorged cock in hand. Lucy bit her lip, watching him give himself a few pumps, eyelids lowering and mouth falling open while his gaze swept over her, lingering on her heaving breasts and glistening cunt. His cock was flushed, precum already dribbling from the tip, the head nearly purple. Had he not been situated between her thighs she would have rubbed them together at the sight.

“Tommy,” she was so desperate she actually felt like she was on the verge of tears. He shushed her tenderly, stretching his body back out on top of hers, their foreheads meeting as he got himself situated.

“I’m right here,” he soothed, kissing her temple and nuzzling at her hair. “Sure you’re ready?” he asked, voice a husky rasp that nearly turned her insides to goo. He was always so worried about accidentally hurting her. 

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” she nodded, arms going around him, trying to pull him closer. Tommy shifted, swiping his hard cock through her wetness, eyes glinting wickedly when he purposely bumped the head against her swollen clit. Her head fell back against the pillows with a groan. 

“If you tease me right now, I swear to fucking God–” she complained. He laughed, nose bumping hers affectionately, and with one quick movement lined himself up and pushed in entirely with one deep roll of his hips. Her loud, reverberating cry echoed throughout the room, joined with his deep groan as he bottomed out, hips flush to hers.

Sweeping her hair back and cupping the side of her face, Tommy’s thumb rubbed at her cheek until she looked at him, not even aware she had closed her eyes. 

“Okay?” he asked. From the slight strain in his voice she knew that it was probably taking everything he had in him not to start slamming into her with abandon. But his concern for her wellbeing came first.

The thought of that was enough to make her heart flutter.  

Covering his hand with hers, she nodded. Their fingers interlaced, pressing into the mattress next to her head, foreheads together and eyes locked. 

And then Tommy started to thrust. 

“Yes,” she all but sobbed in relief, other hand clamping onto his shoulder for purchase. Tommy made a strangled noise, eyes rolling in his head, back muscles tensing. The stretch was incredible, thick length pushing her nearly to her limits, so deeply in her she thought for a moment he might rearrange her guts. No doubt she would be sore come morning, but she didn’t care. 

“Fuck,” Tommy groaned, pulling out nearly to the tip and slamming back in to the hilt. “Fuck, I’m not gonna last.”

“That’s okay,” she could feel a telltale tingling beginning to build between her legs with his cock rubbing up right against her g-spot with every shift. “That’s okay. Me neither.”

He kissed her, the next thrust triggering her to moan deeply into his mouth, nails raking over his back, just enough to lightly scratch. His growl made his chest rumble where it was pressed against hers, and then they were off. 

Their thrusts were deep and hard, her hips meeting his with every one. He kept kissing her, the movements of his lips and tongue mimicking the slow depth of his thrusts. Wrapping her legs around him, Lucy squeezed him as close as possible. The only sound in the room was their combined moans, the rattling of the bed frame, and the slap of skin meeting skin. It was animalistic but tender. Passionate and sweaty. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Tommy mumbled, kissing from her lips to along her jaw and down her throat. The hand not squeezing hers had found her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple between his fingers. 

“Fuck, I missed this,” she sighed out, legs tightening further around him as he gave her a particularly deep thrust. Tommy groaned in agreement, sucking marks into her neck. She could feel his cock starting to throb, and in the next moment his hand was between her legs, fingers at her clit. 

She wailed when he started to rub the sensitive nub in concentrated circles, back arching off the bed. Tommy made a low purring sound at the response, increasing his movements. Fucking her faster. Grinding her hips upwards, she scrabbled at his back and shoulders for purchase, core fluttering around him as her orgasm built. 

“Yes,” Tommy hissed out, erection swelling. “Yes, give it to me, Luce,” his thumb pressed against her more insistently, thrusts angled to ensure he was massaging her g-spot with every stroke. “Come for me, love.”

He only needed to thrust into her a handful more times, maintaining continued pressure on her clit, and she screamed as her walls clamped down around him in a vice grip, gushing out around him while she clung to him so tightly it was like she was trying to meld them into one being. While a thunderous roar, Tommy followed her right over the edge, hips bucking forward, sheathing himself fully and then holding himself in place as his cock twitched and spasmed, emptying into her almost violently.

Gasping, breaths heaving and labored in her chest, Lucy drew him in closer still, their foreheads touching. Tommy’s eyes were open wide, staring at her so intensely she swore he was peering into her mind. His full lips parted, a deep groan emitting from his throat, hips jerking lightly as he kept coming, another huge rush of seed filling her. Lucy’s eyes widened. He always had big loads, but this was something else entirely. There was so much it soon started to overflow, seeping out from around where he was still buried inside her. The feeling of being so thoroughly filled only served to prolong her own orgasm, walls squeezing around him and making him groan, cock twitching in a few final pulses of cum before they both finally went still.

Breathing slowly returning to normal, Lucy stroked a hand through Tommy’s slightly sweaty hair, his face dropping to burrow against her neck as he caught his breath. 

“Fuck…” she breathed out, pecking a kiss to the side of his head. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever come that much in my life,” Tommy groaned. Giggling, Lucy squeezed him, nuzzling at him until he lifted his head, kissing her softly before raising himself off of her. They both winced a little when he pulled out; their combined releases spilling out of her and onto the sheets. 

She made a mental note that they should probably consider increasing their maids’ wages.

Rolling off of her to splay out in the space beside her, Tommy half scooped her into his arms, chuckling at the little yelp she let out when he drew her into his chest. Angling her head up at him, he kissed her, and for a moment there was nothing else in the world to her but the warm press of his soft lips and his strong arms around her. 

When they separated he didn’t go far, keeping their foreheads touching while he caressed her cheek. 

“Hi.”

She giggled again, kissing his nose and taking note of the slight color that entered his cheeks at the affectionate gesture. “Hi.”

His thumb massaged along her cheekbone, eyes darting over her face as if he were trying to memorize her. Rubbing her palm up and down his chest, Lucy cocked her head. 

“You alright?”

“Mm. Never better, love,” he cradled the back of her head, guiding her face back to his for another kiss. This one deeper, his tongue tangling with hers. She couldn’t stop the grin that spread across her face at the sudden pressure of his reawoken cock against her thigh. 

“Mm…again?” she asked, blinking up at him in faux innocence. Tommy just shot her a smirk, and with his hands on her hips to help guide her, she shifted to prop herself up in his lap.

“We have a lot of time to make up for,” he started to kiss her shoulder, letting his lips trail further down until he was taking one of her nipples into his mouth. Shuddering, she petted the back of his head before reaching down, and guiding him back inside of her.  

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[unikornu]

Alright! Finally got time again to shoot you some questions for the ask meme. For Lucy: A1, 2, 9, 14, 24. B1, 13, 16. C3, 4, 6. D2, 3. E2, 4. F2, 5, 10. G2. H1, 6, 8. I1. L2, 4, 9. Also for Harrison, finally someone who can use the K questions... K1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10?

Hell yeah long post coming and i’m so happy with the K section,

Lucy: 

A1. What of the Meyers-Briggs personality types they most fit into? INFP, ENFT, et cetera…

I actually took a test thinking how she would answer and i think i got it perfectly right. I wouldn’t pick it better just by reading all of them i think. She came out as Turbulent Entrepreneur (ESTP-T) which feels ok. “ Rules were made to be broken” - hell they were. Also “ If Entrepreneurs aren’t careful though, they may get too caught in the moment, take things too far, and run roughshod over more sensitive people, or forget to take care of their own health and safety.“

Judging by her action and the way of living she is like that. Going all the way, having hard time just by staying idle and ohh yee taking things too far without thinking of consequences. Like chasing an enemy and realizing she left her support far in the back and then dealing with difficulties by herself. Constantly going careless in combat, forgetting her own safety, thinking she will make it anyway but it comes back biting her in the ass. 

Also she is not smart but she can see minor hidden things, be it while cracking some password on terminal or spotting who in the crowd wants to stab her in the back just by the change of their face expression so she might be stupid but still outsmart some folks and mechanics out there and that fits with the nature of the job she had before the war. 

A2. What alignment are they? Chaotic neutral, lawful evil, et cetera…

I never played DnD games and so on so this one is hard but Neutral Evil - she is aware of her being on the bad side of a coin and is willing to do whatever it takes to make her wishes come true even if it means killing someone but she still have some self restrains and won’t go against the allies she is currently working with and friends she made on the way and of course innocent creatures. She has some base etiquette rules and isn't rotten to the bone but when she wants something nothing will stop her no matter the cost as long as it doesn’t strike her out of the game of harms current company. She is bad but not for sake of doing evil shit or proving something but just to do what she wants and get what she wants even if blood will spill. 

A9. Does your OC make a lot of excuses? For themselves? Others? 

She will sure make a lot of excuses for herself after fucking shit up or going way too ahead in combat. But only for herself. She is the type of pointing finger at others while tugging and biting her tongue just not to admit she wronged someone or something and avoid too many questions or yelling at. 

A14. Is your character empathetic?

Despite being a bitch she is empathetic. But might show it a bit differently...like in a page i wrote for Halloween with that bunny mask. She didn’t chop that man only because he grabbed her ass but because he was using many other women poor financial situation just to have some easy sexy time and she did feel bad for them so...her empathy stroke in a solution of killing him instead of only knocking him out and caging. If someone would harass Lizzie or...i dunno Hector, someone she considers slightly weaker at standing up for themselves and is in her “social” circle or society part then she will show empathy by stabbing those who bother them with a fork in a eye, a bit extreme but that’s how she understands empathy. Someone is chaining and kicking a dog at settlement? She will chain that man onto the bridge and let him hang and die slowly and take a dog in Pack care. Gage complains that his gun got broken in a fight and can sense some sadness, she will run for a stealing caps heist to buy new one. So...she feels empathy but her answer to it can be...well unusual, brutal and extreme.

A24. What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

Type of question i hope i understood correctly :)) 

Fear of failing to deliver is her biggest personal obstacle. She was always scared, since childhood to fail at meeting certain expectations, be in it school for her mother who would change her mind bazillion times due to mental illness, then Harrison and fear of his eventual punishment mixed with mental abuse if she doesn’t carry her mission to the end, with Ian it was fear of failing at being the good loving partner due to her secrets and then comes whole town of raiders with Gage on top who have expectations of her and promise of certain small paradise if she delivers but...these fears always pushes her into actions more than she has to and it exhaust her mentally and can sometimes prove deadly, ending up in injuries that could have been avoided. She is aware of this but because it carried through her whole life its unavoidable. 

Also she doesn’t interact much with a friendly society groups because even if she knows she is bad its not something she actually likes to hear. Coming to a small town just with intentions to have a drink and imagining that people will only show her a pistol barrel and tell her to fuck off because she is from within raider circle fills her with doubt so strong she just tends to avoid this kind of meetings.

How was the saying: “Don't tell a psychopath they're a psychopath, it upsets them” and she will get deeply upset. 

B1. Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Get respect to give it. She doesn’t trust that people will respect her back if she puts effort so she won’t show respect even to great president of whatever wastes because she also doesn’t care if someone respect her but if they pull a hand out first she will shake it back. Her life is too risky and careless to think about gaining someone’s respect first. 

B13. Do they have a large or small group of friends?

If she would consider all nuka town her friends then its big but...nope, small group. Its mostly Gage (even if they are partners they can be friends too), Lizzie, William, well...Mags too and along with that Mason later on once she gets his loyality and a few traders from which she keep connections with Maddox, Chip and Shelbie. From Far Harbor for sure Allan would be easy to gain as a friend. Longfellow is just a friend grandad <3. Harrison cannot be questioned, too scary to reject him. From Commonwealth i can’t yet get idea where she could get the best friend circle. Well aside from that whatever other oc’s out there who accept her bitchiness and way of being :)) but i don’t think she would make many friends out there, she is...well plain simple and dangerous.

B16. Does your OC like to be the center of attention or more in the mix?

Definitely in the center of attention, since she couldn’t be back then. Now that crime and killing is fully legal and there is no police chase other than some disgusted by her behavior minutemen she can be a in the center of a show and she likes it. A circus ring leader, hell yeah...well raiders can be clowns too from time to time. And let’s not start with parties and free time. She’s the first to get up on table to dance. It gets her a bit to realize things she can get away with but once she does she only misses there is no spotlight at the end of the fight, shining on her.

C3. Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

Major indeloghit....tents what? Good lord, i swear i’m too stupid for these kind of words but good i keep the dictionary close to me, right in the next tab.

Big yes. It’s not many people like her out there and she doesn’t want to flip her coin back to being good and peaceful towards rules of the world, she simply isn’t able to mentally change back anymore so in order to keep feeling like she still has a hole to belong to she needs to spend time with people like her to also boost her confidence that she isn’t the only one with broken mind out there seeking completion of her wishes through darker path. And knowing so isn’t leaving her in fear she will need to change her ways of life. 

C4. Do they consider themselves superior or more important than anyone else? Lesser?

No. Even is she is the Overboss she rather rejects that title and prefers to be just a business partner with Gage. She doesn’t seek and need to feel important or superior, she only wants to feel useful around people she decided to blend in with and have a purpose, nothing else. The fact that she can strike orders around doesn’t fill her heart nor mind with some higher importance or value above other. Also she doesn’t considers her enemies lesser even knowing her skills, its just bad approach that can easily get one killed and she prefers stays on a same line with others. Be it friends or foes.

C6. What do they do when they see someone asking for money or food? If they ignore them, why? If they help, how so?

Depends in what state that person is, she was the liar herself so she can spot one if its an actual person in need or just lazy poor soul. She will usually tho just toss a few caps and walk away without listening or hearing more from that person. She doesn’t want to struggle with a morality remaining deep in her brain if she did right or not so she will just deal with it fast and walk away, telling them to fuck off if they will follow her. These kind of people are like those annoying reminders in a shape of beggar poking her and making think if she still has some pure humanity left so...she wants to be just done with that part. But animal coming up to her is a different deal, here humanity will always strike unless its a seagull stealing her meal, then her humanity part will shrink and there will be a rock thrown in the air after that birb, as a survival contest. 

D2. Do they believe in an afterlife?

She never gave it a longer thought. She cares about here and now but if she would meet someone knowledgeable in that topic she would be willing to open her ears for few minutes longer and put the knife down. She doesn’t rejects religious topics as long as someone is not brushing a saint books or whatever right in her face. She has an open mind on more than just a mortal topics mostly because of Harrison. 

D3. How comfortable are they with the idea of death?

She wasn’t scared of death before the bombs and when wandering through wasteland because she just didn’t care for her life and maybe that’s what made her most effective but this changed once she realized she can finally live a life she secretly wanted but was restricted before. Her strong desire of finally rejecting the dying part is what caused certain being to finally break away from her ;> well i wrote about it in last page so yassss

E2. Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

The strongest is surely the Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence, she was trained to the bone and with her careless nature she is mostly depended on her physical skills and putting them into perfect timing. Even if she got a bit rusty after bombs the return of Harrison will bring her back into the right gears of phasing like speed and combat thinking. 

Weakest could be probably the Intra-personal Intelligence mostly because even if she understand her actions she isn’t very good at analyzing it any deeper other than “i want that man’s money cus i want that”, i guess....i could describe it like that. I cant really get any deeper or more detailed into this because there is for sure one thing i share with Lucy....we are simple minded simpletons but..i might be a bigger one :)))

E4. Did they enjoy school if they went to it?

At the beginning she didn’t enjoy any school as other students would consider her a weirdo because of her mother which would sometimes show up, uncalled at school and act really weird but later when she decided to stand up for herself after meeting Harrison as a kid ....others in school didn’t enjoy that change as much as she became seen as a pretty bully girl being overly extreme into serving “justice”. The only classes she enjoyed tho were gym and biology ones as she wasn’t scared to cut a frog but others seeing her just chopping it like a piece of ham could...weighted on her reputation. Also she always joined like a sport/cheerleader groups to have less problems with teachers as it was bringing school good reputation and she was fairly flexible and with high stamina so it was also easy for her. So from being bullied she became popular bully girl of sort. She got hooked on law later on because she wanted indeed to serve some justice, in a peaceful manner at start. So all in all she didn’t enjoy school at start but then she didn’t mind it as she took business in her hands, a bit over the edge but well...bully with some feelings eh? I don’t have many details as to what exact type of school she would go but another reason she would enjoy sitting at school once she became the one in charge is to spend less time at home with her confusing mother so she would be staying late for some extra gym trainings, sweating her emotions off.

F2. What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

In Porter’s rough, dirty yet soft heart stuffed in his sweaty smelly top.

She can call Fizztop an ideal home of sort. The weather in Nuka World strikes her preferences and even since she was strolling with Harrison from time to time there before the war she just loved that place and beside the first deadly visit there they made a good memories there, father and daughter like. She prefers her home to be placed inside the town as she hates sleeping in open spaces even if its a single house on top of a hill. She just feels too lonely and insecure. It’s weird to say that but she feels safer to sleep in a town filled with raiders than alone in the wild.  

F5. How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Fairly handy but on a level of fixing a broken car mirror with a duck tape or just gluing shit together hoping it will hold long enough before it breaks again. If she would fix a door handle it would most probably end up upside down on the other side of the door. And if shit breaks again...she will just shrug and glue it same way again or at least add one more layer of duck tape. Sometimes she will try to convince herself she knows what wire to put where when it comes to electric appliances but she only knows cars and car still ain’t a toaster so....electric shortage and fizzy hair incoming. She needed a manual on shoving a cable inside a robot so yeah. But when it comes to fixing clothes she is as good as with cars. Even if some parts can be similar like in car engine of sort she still has hard time to connect the dots if seeing something like half similar. So give her a broken car/truck/any clothing she will swing a wrench or needle and fix that shit in no time but hand her a tv pilot or spoken toaster and she will just look at it and ponder..deeply.  

F10. Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

Arts...with her only painting comes to my mind but not like painting a landscape but more things like a car painting, pack faces and more abstract stuff which she learned again in Sapphire club with Rosey due to many events that were having certain themes so they needed to do body paints and so on.

I don’t know if dancing is any kind of art but i can imagine her discovering that pole dance but on a level of these sport like competitions. Lucy is flexible and has enough strength to try to perform this kind of stuff since from already school times she was doing a lot of gym and sport in general.

As to how good she would be at these probably not like perfectly good to very details because even she doesn’t have need to be horribly good. Needs to be good enough to just make her happy and she doesn’t have high standards in these topics. I dunno why i found that question slightly tricky....

G2. Who makes up your OC’s family, at least the more important members to them?

The only family she had was her mother since her father left once he could no longer bear with her mental issues and bringing stranger men to house and then getting pregnant with her. I didn’t build up yet like a bigger family tree but..yeah it was just her mother and her most of the time. 

H1. What is your OC’s orientation, romantic and/or sexual? Has it ever been a source of stress for them? Have they always been pretty sure of their orientation?

She is 100% heterosexual when it comes to her orientation both romantic and sexual. She can flirt with same sex but that would only include situations when she needs to finish her job or reach some other goal, no feelings involved whatsoever. 

H6. Has your OC ever cheated on anyone or been cheated on?

She didn’t catch Ian neither Gage to cheat on her. She tends to flirt with other men like William but wouldn’t take it as far as to sleep with him or do it on purpose to hurt her partner feelings so...she doesn’t cheat. She still has SOME backbone. 

H8. What’s your OC’s idea of a perfect date?

She doesn’t have high needs when it comes to perfect date topic. As long as it involves alone time together without additional crowd and some beer she doesn’t care if they sit in a fancy bar or on some building stairs. Perfect date is any that includes relaxed talk, joking, alcohol and a happy ending in bed together. Extra points for bringing her nicely cut flower. Despite being bully, killer and involved with raiders she was looking at late evenings at these white/grey romantic movies where couples were just doing simple things, walking late night together and so on, so her perfect date ain’t complicated. 

I1. What are their favorite kinds of flavors– Sweet, salty, sour, spicy, creamy, et cetera?

As long as its not slimey and gooey like she’s okay. If something of mentioned above would slip into her food she will just puke it out instantly. She prefers salty and sweet tho as her pre-war diet was mostly like so. Salted hard boiled eggs with grilled tatos topped with pinch of salt again and then 200 years old cotton candy for dessert or potato crisps. She eats meat too but like fried till its crunchy. 

L2. What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Brain error so i hope i understood this right:

Leaning into the evil side of the society fully confident it’s the only and last right choice to achieve true happiness and satisfy the already croocked mind. 

L4. Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

In my real life probably yes but even i would be slightly nervous around her because she tends to bend towards very extreme solutions if some problems would arise or someone would make me angry (due to her empathy) but in fallout universe hell yeah, i’m just not sure i would be in a physical capability to keep up with her but i wouldn’t mind to get a legendary cane..along with it...But yeah, i would like to hang out for a beer and see her beat some stupid folks and maybe give a her a friendly hug to remind her she isn’t that bad and she will be fine....and apologize for burning her hands lol. If she would find out i’m her creator..oh boy, i’m sure she would beat me with my own cane over the head. 

L9. How did you come up with your OC?

I had different OC design before but she was actually just a general good joking hero, she even had a brother but that got lost later on and that male oc was left just for MMO’s as an additional character. Then a lot of things happened in my life and because i was gaming since early childhood like Norton times and..the pixelated Blizzard Blackthorne it also affected my rpg and game choices in general, like whole way of thinking since gaming was and is big part of my life. I was curious what would happen if i take my oc through the mental change grinder and push it to the edge, towards losing the patience for justice systems and add a pinch of evil mixed with some trauma to give her some reason to choose that path. And there she is. Her face features didn’t change much, neither body type and so on but her mentality is hell of a different and i just...love her. She isn’t perfect, neither that horribly bad but i’m very pleased with how she came out. I threw a glove and was done with playing hero at some point because of life experiences and she came out of my cauldron as a best way to peacefully calm down. As for Harrison he was suppose to be just a small mention in pre-war diary but for some reason my brain pushed it forward and i really don’t mind him as an extra OC. Besides Lucy needs someone to watch over her. 

Allllrighty, Harrison time:

K1. Does your OC have to keep their paranormal aspect (PA) a secret from general society? If so, how? I.e., they can’t discuss their abilities, they have to hide a tail, they have an alter-ego, et cetera. What would happen if society found out about it?

Yes, he has to hide his powers. He is one of a kind and experiment never got finished so his powers are something no one seen before. I’m sure that lab is still buried somewhere near Sanctuary deep in forests containing old data and so on but the place got abandoned and no one found it yet. I can imagine tho that the cryo vault could have been like a last remaining section cut off from the rest as it also was touching a subject of immortality...i mean..a way of not aging. Usually the green smoke will always rise from his body and eyes at times so he prefers to hide his face under the hat and keep fully covered body with that long brown coat and thick gloves. Also he doesn’t look very friendly so it helps him keep folks at distance before they notice something unusual. I can’t imagine how people would react if they knew about his powers but they for sure would be just wary and scared i think. And all in all he has a synth skeleton so more hate from most of the Commonwealth population. He also needs to keep his emotions at check as his powers are driven by a strong sense of desire so if he would really really want to harm someone he would have harder time at controlling his powers before they snap. That’s why he is always so...stoic and calm.     

K3. Does your OC have any friends who know about their PA? Any enemies?

Lucy suspected before and she has a memory from childhood, then she finds out herself on a go and Gage also knows because he was present during the event. Later on she tells Lizzie and Chip Morse because she needs help to repair his synth broken body due to how the...separation came out. Harrison doesn’t tell anyone else unless its necessary. The only enemy out there would be the lead scientist if he somehow survived the bombs and is still out there, looking for him. 

Also...i didn’t mean to make it like that but its just how it came out due to most...common and fast thought design. That lead scientist had grey hair and wore a black mask on half of his face....and that would make the air even more rotten between...someone particular out there :)) 

K5. Does your OC feel isolated or unrelatable due to the experience their PA brings with it? If so, how do they deal with it?

He does feel lonely since he is too afraid to meet new people or even spend too much time in a bar. He would mostly stick to lone table in a corner, being too afraid on not controlling his powers if his mind and emotions lose breaks. He was a family man, not perfect father but still, getting that taken away and changing your life 180 degrees can sometimes upset him and the only way to cool down is just to stick to people he can trust which is Lucy and her gang. Its his only family now. He doesn’t push away the idea of trying again, meeting a woman, making a family, being a better father but is just too scared of that. Also he doesn’t need much sleep as normal person so...this doesn’t help him either.   

K6. Does their PA cause issues in daily life? I.e., if they’re inhuman in a human universe and they can’t go to a doctor or risk the doctor realizing they are not human, super abilities with physical drawbacks, they don’t have control of their abilities and must keep to themselves, et cetera… If so, how do they feel about it?

It causes him a lot of issues. Despite hot weather he still needs to keep his clothes on to not reveal the power radiating from him. His hat always in crowds, even inside the buildings to not risk shining with his eyes too much. Shades can help tho at times. But people might find it weird, accuse him of being another synth and attack him and that would cause more problems because if he snaps people will see his powers. He needs to keep his head low all the time and just act as a shady dangerous mercenary, out of unnecessary questions and troubles.

K7.Does your OC’s PA affect their dietary habits so that they are unusual or problematic by their society’s standards?

Even if he actually doesn’t need to eat he still will because he isn’t fully synth but just himself in a form of soul trapped in such a body. His eating habits are still the same as they were but..he might overdo his craving at times...eating like a kilograms of food just because he remembered it was his favorite and he wants it now and he will feel the taste and satisfaction but because his stomach isn’t human he doesn’t feel when he is full so....yeah. Eating whole cart of cotton candy at one go. It might feel weird to people who don’t know him but he is a big man so they might assume it’s maybe because of his size...and just being freaking hungry.

K8. What are some routines, if any, of self-care that your OC must engage in that are not typical of their society? I.e., having to file their teeth, maintaining magical rituals, drinking blood…

He needs to meditate like a lot to keep his powers better contained and controlled since they sync with his mindset.. Sometimes he will do it for hours, be it standing, siting, he will just disconnect and meditate.

K9. Does your OC have knowledge that they can’t share with the rest of their world that could improve it if it didn’t cause chaos? I.e., a character from the future knowing about technology not yet invented, but they can’t reveal themselves by sharing it

He is the only one knowing the location of the lab but he keeps that knowledge only to Lucy. He can’t imagine what could happen if they would create armies of....entities like him. Being able to inject soul from body to body could solve a lot of health like issues and give a hell of disabled people new chance but you can never know what direction this could go. 

K10. Would your OC give up their PA if they could? Why or why not?

Even if it ruined his life he wouldn’t give it up. He lost his family not because of who she became but because he was fucking irresponsible by taking his son to work and killing them both. His wife was furious and refused to take him home again even if she was freshly pregnant that time. His powers allowed him to protect her anyway without her knowledge and because he is at age he is, these powers still keep him as a extremely dangerous man able to fight. Even if giving it up could give him a better chance of starting a family again he prefers to be able to protect these that are still left in his life than failing or die trying. So he is over the grief and learned to live with how he is, accepting his powers and putting them to good use. 

[mywritingonlyfans]

One Shot with Ethan Torchio // It's a bit Fluffly, Smut and Angsty

prompt: in which, ethan always need/visit you when he's not in tour + casual sex(?) with ethan tying you up so you don't touch him i'm telling you this but isn't a hardcore smut

warnings: it's smut. a fluffly kinda sexy(?)maybe it's just sexy bc it's ethan smut ig fem!reader

(he is so hot. i'm crying all my tears, and that's fucking pathetic.)

Your head hurt, you knew your face was probably red due to your desire to go home and cry, but yet, your friends convinced you to go out for a drink. According to them nothing was too bad that a beer couldn’t improve, you doubted it.

Somehow, you found yourself happy to have accepted.

You didn’t know Ethan was back in town, you briefly wondered why you didn’t know, since he always contacted you when he was near (or at least that was what it seemed to be). Still, you were glad to see him. He was always able to make things better, even if only for a short period of time; which in your case was very short one as he wasn’t yours to have.

Ethan complemented your friends, they were all too familiar to him. He hugged you, giving a small kiss to your head while sitting next to you. Suddenly, you felt like a stronger drink would do you good.

It wasn’t hard to tell what was going to happen in the next few hours, after a couple of years going through that, you knew the time you spent together would always be the same. You guessed that you were able to put his head in place, just as he did with yours; and that's why he always came back to you. You'd never be able to tell if it was luck or mischance.

“Was it too hard to find me?” You asked him.

By now, your friends had moved to another corner. “I mean, I’m not complaining, I’m glad you did.” You offered him a weak smile. He did the same.

He looked tired, yet deadly cute.

He shuffled his chair closer to yours, letting his leg touch your bare knee. “Not really, Victoria said she called you in the morning, then told me that you intended to visit here for the night,” he mumbled, signaling to the bartender that he needed a beer, and so did you.

“She’s a gossip,” you wrinkled your nose, causing him to provide offer you a nasal laugh that you had learned to find lovely over the years. “But what has been happenin’ in your life lately? You’re good?” You tried to sound casual, but deep down you knew he wasn’t there entirely for you. Something was bothering him, he was looking for someone to rest on.

“Pretty much the same,” he sighed heavily. He wasn’t tired just physically. “We finished the last album, I feel exhausted.”

He looked at you like a lost puppy, watching your face, analyzing if you were in the mood to listen to him, or even if you were okay with having him around. After all, he came to you out of nowhere.

He’d never make you uncomfortable around him, maybe he hadn't noticed that yet. “C’mon, let it all out. I haven’t seen you for too many months for you to deprive me of the details.”

“If I tell you,” he pondered, “ you’ll tell me why you have a runny nose to match your watery eyes?” He poked your cheek, dragging his fingers so he could put some strands of hair back in place.

His seat was now so close to you that you'd be able to rest your head on his shoulder if you wanted to without creating any bodily discomfort.

“I guess life just hasn’t been all that gentle with me lately.” You giggled at him. “I lost my job last week, the same life shit is goin’ on as usual, and when I finally managed to move to a decent place, I’ll now be actually going back to sharin' apartment with strangers, because, y’know, I can’t afford bein’ in there anymore.”

Ethan was quiet for a while, you needed him more than he needed you. Listening to you made him realize how his worries were nothing at all. He knew that you didn't mind sharing an apartment with someone, but the loss of perspective was always tough.

Without further thinking, he pulled you to himself, fluffing your hair and holding you tight in his grip. You didn’t cry, yet it was possible to read your emotions. It was little, but Ethan knew you.

You took your head off his chest while he still had his arm around your waist. Taking a deep breath, you stared at your laced fingers, feeling it slow down. “I guess it’s all happenin’ at the same time, I’m just not sure how to handle it at the moment,” he held your face in his hand, his mouth close to yours as he ran his fingertips over your chin, until his lips were on you.

He was soft and wet, he had the same taste you still had etched in your mind, at that moment it seemed to be all you needed. He let go slowly, distributing pecks on the corners of your mouth, letting his forehead rest against yours.

You two stayed like that for a few minutes and you could bet that anyone who passed by could see how much of a fool you were for him. You tried not to think about it too much, it was better to have little of him than to have nothing. “Ethan?”

“Huh?” He murmured with his eyes closed, giving your lips a tickling sensation.

“Kiss me more,” and then he did. Ethan was holding you in place while your hands intertwined around his neck. You played with the chain of his necklace, savoring the touch of his tongue on yours, focusing only on him while pulling at his hair to hear his soft moans.

It didn’t take long for the bartender to come get your attention. You laughed nervously against him, you were embarrassed because you didn’t even remember where you were, still Ethan seemed untouchable about it. He wasn’t one to be embarrassed over small things like that, at least not with you. The bartender was quite irritated with the two of you and just now you noticed that your drinks had arrived and hadn’t even been touched; he was rightly pissed.

Ethan stood up, lifting you up with him. You looked in your pockets for your money, but then Ethan said it was okay and that he’d pay. You would argue, yet any money left over would be welcome. You held both beers in hand as he paid, thanking the old lady for the service, still feeling your skin burning with embarrassment, and then headed outside to wait for Ethan.

“Are you drivin’?” He asked, laughing at your state of awkwardness.

You bumped into his shoulder slightly, laughing along with him. “I am not, I’m living nearby,” you whispered as he put his hand inside your skirt pocket, bringing you to his side for a walk. “In the apartment that soon won’t be mine… how ‘bout you?”

“Not drivin’, I thought about staying somewhere to spend the night.”

He was close to home, but not that close, it would take about 3 hours to get to where he lives; it seemed plausible that he wanted to stay. “Are you only here because of me?” You risked asking.

“Yeah,” he took his hand out of your pocket and ran it through his hair. “I didn’t think it‘d be a bad idea.”

There was a silence, but it was far from being uncomfortable. “You know you can stay with me.”

——————-

Considering that you were in the process of moving to another place your house was a bit of a mess. Ethan wouldn’t be bothered by that, somehow your instinct of wanting things always in place - aka Monica from Friends - made you wander around the space in an attempt to make Ethan at home.

“What ‘bout the new album?” You asked, dragging one of the boxes away from him. It wouldn’t even bother anyone, but the thought that it would be in the middle of the room while someone was at your house bothered you.

“I don’t really know, I feel anxious about releasin’ it. It’s not that I don’t want to release it or am afraid of doing so, far from that, it's just, I don’t know… ” His voice fell silent, lost in his thoughts.

You turned to him, wanting to ask him what he had said, after all, that didn’t sound like Ethan, you felt as his hands touched your hips, pulling you on his lap. “Y'know I don’t care about your mess, right? Just, please, stop walkin’ 'round the house dragging boxes.” He said with his face close to your neck, hugging you from behind. His warm breath was in contact with your soft skin, providing heat to your body. Well, there was a minimal percentage chance that you were trying to make the place look good for Ethan, just because he made you a little nervous.

“Okay, fine. I’m fine,” you exhaled, turning to face him. He was smiling with his eyes almost closing; he still looked tired, but at least you were improving his mood. “You know you’re good at what you do, Ethan. You shouldn’t worry 'bout those things.” You held on to his shoulders, breaking something that could turn out to be a pity silence.

He squeezed your thigh at the same time as he laughed humorlessly at your words. “I know that. I guess that this is the short time they gave us to finish the album – it was drivin’ me crazy. The album isn’t bad, not at all, it’s honestly very good. Dami did a incredible job, still if it weren’t for the time it could have been even better. That’s crazy how I’m still letting myself get stressed over this, don’t you think?” He vented, moving his hands up your skirt.

“I know it’ll be good, I can’t think of anything you did that ended up bad!” You ran your fingers over his covered shoulders, down to his chest, going to the first open button of his t-shirt. “But if it’s just stress I can help you.”

He lubed his lips, nodding assiduously, putting you properly on top of him. That way, you were stuck to his body, feeling the rough of his jeans along with the zipper against your underwear. You gulped as he held your face, sealing your lips with his. You were relieved he always guided you through that; the leading up part was way better when it came from him.

You unbuttoned the rest of his shirt in middle of sloppy kisses and grips. Running your hand over his belly, tracing your fingers to the back of his neck while moving your hips lightly. You lugged on his hair, pulling him away to catch your breath. You opened your eyes to find Ethan with a deep pink mouth and brown eyes more intense than normal, at that moment you could have sworn that he was the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You spread his shirt to the sides, sensing your body getting hotter, when Ethan smirked at your rush, managing to hold both of your hands behind you; stopping you in place.

“No need to rush, we have plenty of time,” he clenched you in his hands. You arched your back, breathing heavily at each touch of his fingers on your wrists.

He ran his nose over your neck, placing kisses and bites on the way to your collarbone, leaving wet tracks that would later turn into dark marks.

Your legs ached from that position, the couch wasn’t the best, but feeling Ethan getting hard under you as you writhed yourself against him, made you want to stay there for as long as he wanted you to. It was crazy to think that at the beginning of the day you were sure that the rest of it would be a pure disaster, and now being spoiled by Ethan’s lips your worries seemed to fade away.

Temporary as that would be, you were determined to give him your all, making his and yours next hours one of the best escapes from both of you. Unnecessary to say that you were lost in your own mind by now, craving for having his strands in-between your fingers, wanting him tugged into you furiously, causing you to ache. Your mouth was ajar, your vision was just white dots as he played with your sensitive skin, driving you insane. Ethan paralyzed when his grip became too strong around your fists and you got louder than usual.

“D’you like that?” He did it again, but this time pushing your body backward. He kept his devilish grin on his face, watching you from top to bottom. You bit your lips, containing your noises to yourself. Such an angel in his eyes. “Up, babe. I need to see something.” He didn’t let you answer, not as if he needed to. You stood up in front of him, legs shaking with your head definitely not in the right place. “Undress.” He rested his elbows on his knees.

His face was serious, and you didn’t see any problem in obeying his voice, but perhaps, due to the lack of his body being glued to yours, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I tell you what to do,” He caught you by the hem of your underwear, helping to take it off while you got rid of your blouse. “Especially, when I just got you off my lap, almost unconscious 'cause of some kisses to your soft neck, pet.” He added, drawing circles on the inside of your thigh, smoothly going up to your center.

You felt your breath come to a halt. “You’re just too bossy.” You teased, confirming that your breathing was faulty.

He patted his nose over the damp stain of the fabric, placing a kiss there. “And you love it.” He pecked you a few more times, teasing you by running his fingers on the edges as putting the cloth to the side; never touching you where you needed him.

Almost involuntarily you took hold of his hair, bringing him closer to your core. And then, you understood his previous question, it wasn’t just about not being able to touch him, but also about the power he was having over you.

He cut his actions short and got up, hovering over you. “Tonight, you won’t be allowed to touch me, all right?!” He whispered, tossing your hair behind your ear.

That’d be comical in any other situation, yet with his body and eyes fixed on your frame you felt in his domain.

You nodded, diving into the way he pulled at the hair on the nape of your neck firmly so that you were looking at him. “Go on, babe,” He insisted on having the words he wanted.

“Yes, it’s all right, Ethan,” it was far from all right, you couldn’t do that. How could you go without touching, making a mess of his hair or marking your nails on his back?

“That’s my girl,” he praised you in between sighs.

He was excited while your face was overflowing with nervousness; not out of fear, but out of curiosity. He finished removing his shirt and indicated with his fingers for you to lie down on the couch.

You shut your eyes tight, with his voice echoing 'my girl’ in your mind, Ethan was lugging your wrists above your head as you did what he told you to do. He tied them with his shirt. “Is this hurtin’ you? Are you comfortable?” He tightened it in a knot.

Your head and elbows were on the arm of the couch, only your hands were unsupported. Although you weren’t uncomfortable, it was to be expected that pain would appear the next day; it’d be worth it. “No, it’s fine. I’m good.” You assured him as he knelt beside the couch, running his hands down your torso, making you squirm.

He went down to the hem of your underwear, taking it off with the help of your legs kicking the lace away. “Good then,” he warbled, pattering lines on your pubic hair. “Needy and in your proper place.”

“Bastard,” you swore through clenched teeth.

He grinned, admiring how your breast rose and fell in a quick but punctual rhythm while your hips fidgeted at his touch. You looked like a piece of art he had just created, swollen lips, filled in lovely marks on the collarbone. He found himself in need to concentrate on his breathing while watching you, to control his pulse as he reached his fingertips to your pussy.

“Ethan” you breathed out, forcing your fists. “Go on, please,”

With that, he held your hands, forcing them down and slid a finger inside you. Your lips opened in a sigh and he took the opportunity to kiss you, running his tongue over your bottom lip and nipping it to his mouth, keeping things on a slow pace.

You wanted to hold his hand, make him go faster or be able to pull the locks of his hair until he understood how much you wanted him, but you had no way of doing that, and you knew he was just doing that to provoke you.

His lips traveled over your neck again, this time giving light kisses, blowing air on the soft fresh he had left in there.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he said without even opening his eyes, delighting in your skin as he sped up, now rubbing his thumb gently over your bud.

You whispered something almost inaudible that Ethan recognized as his name. He raised his head, coming face a face to you. “Right there, huh?” He asked, focusing on the spot that was blurring your vision.

You groaned. The satisfying delight running through your veins. You closed your legs, wishing you could hold on to his body, but all he did was laugh, shoving his fingers leisurely into you.

“No, no Ethan,” you looked at him properly, thinking that if you hadn’t been with your wrists tied you’d have slapped his chest.

He wiped his hand on your thigh, and stood up slipping his jeans down his legs along with his underwear. You sighed at him, stretching your arms, staring at the ceiling to disguise yourself. Not that it was necessary, Ethan was already too much of a show-off when it came to you for your liking.

“You good? How’s your arms?” He doubted, getting on top of you.

He had his hair damp, falling over the spots on his forehead. Some of his locks was glued to his chest and his golden pendant dangled in front of your eyes. For a split second, you though about saying that you missed him, but you were wise enough to know better than doing such a thing.

“If I say that I’m not good. Are you goin’ to untie me?”

He pressed his chest to yours, your body sticking to his since you were both sweaty.

“Not even a chance,” He stroked your neck with his thumb, up and down, with a silly look on his face.

You grunted as soon as you felt how solid hard he was against your thigh, he aligned himself in-between your knees, holding on to your shoulders, and without hesitation he filled you up. Your body tingled and your voice failed, causing a silent moan to slip from your lips. His head fell over the crook of your neck and you could feel how dysrhythmic his breathing was. His warm body along with his breath hitting on your neck added a pleasant feeling in your stomach, leaving you dizzy under him.

“Move Ethan,” you tried to sound understandable, embracing his waist with your legs.

He thrusted deeply in you, leaving a breathed sigh of relief in your ears. You stretched out your arms, tightening your thighs around him. He held the shirt in your hands, preventing it from coming loose.

“No, I wanna touch you,” you whined.

“You will, just be patient, babe,” he squeezed your wrists in his hand.

Closing your eyes, you enjoyed the way his body was over yours, every movement and every delicate touch.

He went slowly at first, making sure you were taking all of him before going faster. Once he felt your walls clenching around him, he murmured a breathless 'fuck’, letting go of your hands so that you could finally feel him. You dug your nails into his back, kneading your body against his at the same time as he hugged you.

As you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, with an intense gaze, building you up to feel sexy and wanted.

Both of you were a mess; sweaty and sticky. You felt a tingling ecstasy take all over your body, your toes twitching as you emptied yourself into him. He kept working on you until his body collapsed into yours, filling you up to perfection.

The last thing you remembered was having your fingers entwined in his hair, patting at it slightly as he whispered sweet nothing against your skin; just like a lullaby.

———–-------

You woke up to the noise of the television, trying to adjust your vision to the brightness of the daylight. Failing to stretch, you felt how sore your body was.

Your eyes searched for Ethan, finding him sitting opposite to you with a lazy smile and a cup of tea in hands, his attention was all on you. Friends was playing on the television, but you doubted he was really watching it.

“Good mornin’ babe,” his husky voice echoed through the room. It was the best thing to hear in the morning. “How’s it? Hurtin’?” He asked when you started examining your marked wrists.

He was fully dressed and although you weren’t, he had managed to get a sheet to cover you.

“Good mornin’. It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt,” you mumbled, scratching your eyes, curling up on the sheet. “How long will you be stayin’ in town?”

“Not long,” he paused thoughtfully. You already expected that he wouldn’t be with you for long, still sometimes you liked to think that it’d last longer than just a few days before he disappeared to another continent. “I need to go home in a few minutes, I’m going to take a flight at night to adjust the final details of the album.”

“Sounds nice,” you wanted to have the courage to tell him how he made things in your life look just right, as if he were some kind of piece missing from your puzzle. “I can’t wait to hear it, hear what your great fingers are capable of.” You ignored your thoughts. He laughed.

However, you truly believed that not saying anything was a wise move.

He lifted a cup from one of the boxes next to him, holding it out to you. “I made one for you too, I hope you don’t mind.”

You didn’t mind it, in fact, you loved the way he made himself at home so quickly. The home that soon wouldn’t be yours anymore. You wished Ethan could remedy your worries for more than just one night.

“Thank you,” you took the still warm drink in your hands, looking at him as if he were part of your decor. “You can smoke in here, I don’t mind that either,” you spoke up. You couldn’t even imagine that he’d have gone without lighting a cigarette all morning.

“The place is all clean, and smells nice. I bet you never lit one yourself, I wouldn’t do that.” He was right.

“Well, y'know that I don’t care about the smell, I just don’t see the need to leave the house impregnated with it.” You explained, remembering that Ethan’s house was a perfect description of that smell, yet you loved his place.

“I know this is going to sound strange,” he started. “But if you can’t find a place in time to live in… you can stay at mine, I mean, you know I am never home and as I’ll be travelin’ you could make yourself at home.”

He said it casually, and you knew he wasn’t lying, if you wanted to he wouldn't even think twice about letting you stay at his.

“No need, I’ll be fine. I do appreciate it though.” you took a sip of your now cold drink.

He bobbed, checking what you thought could be the time on his phone.

“You have to go, I guess?” You asked, your soft voice revealing you didn’t want that.

“I need to,” he gave you a small smile, getting up. “It’s gettin’ a bit late for me.”

“I see,” you went to him, adjusting the sheet on your body, feeling ridiculous for still being undressed. “I guess I’ll see you, right?” You added it while he picked up your stuff on the couch; keys, wallet and the pack of cigarettes. There was no answer for your question.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, heading to the door. “You could come and visit, spend a few days with us. It’d be nice.”

“On tour? Like a groupie?” You wrinkled your nose. His arms wrapping around you. You’d miss it.

He squeezed you into his chest, his tiny beard tickling your cheek. “You know you are much more than just a groupie for me, Y/N.”

You didn’t answer that. He pulled away and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but he didn’t.

“See ya Y/N,” instead, he kissed the top of your head. “Think about it, both about comin’ to visit and also about needing a place to stay for a while.”

“I’m sure I will, thank you Ethan,” you watched him, from his rumpled shirt to dark circles under his eyes. He’d always have a special space in your heart. “I guess I’ll see ya then.”

>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<

taglist ( 'cause someone actually wanted to be tagged, i didn't even force anyone😁): @maybanksslut , @oro-e-diamanti

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[fenristheorem]

Hi! Can you make part 2 of Guardienne and Lance relationship, the first one was so cute got me curious for more

Hello there! No problem at all, I know of a few more headcanons that you may like!😊

*Very minor NSFW in this (pretty non-descriptive except for maybe a few small parts).

~Under the cut~

Lance and Guardienne’s relationship - Part 2:

I’ll start out small: terms of endearment. Now Lance probably isn’t one to use cuddly words like ‘sugar, honey, etc.’, but I could definitely see him using the occasional ‘dear, darling, my love’ on Guardiennne, because let’s be honest; he’s a hardened warrior who probably enjoys witty banter and sensuality more than bubble baths and sugar-coated words. These terms of affection may be used far and few in between, but he’d definitely still use them on occasion.

However, he’d be much more likely to use endearing terms to describe her when complimenting her - especially when she’s feeling a bit subdued as of late. He’ll call her things like ‘cute, adorable, beautiful’ and the whole rest of that spectrum. These sudden bouts of compliments can happen at the most random of moments, as well.

Guardienne may be taking off her shirt to change - in their shared room of course - with Lance doing his own thing. Her back will be towards him when she’ll suddenly hear “fucking gorgeous” from behind her, and she’ll look over her shoulder to cast an amused glare at him as he gifts her with a wolfish grin. This can happen at almost any time; as she changes, steps out of the shower, undresses for an intimate moment - the possibilities are nearly endless provided it’s an appropriate moment.

Other times she’ll be doing her own thing - feeding her companion, organizing her clothing, redecorating her room - and he’ll come to her and wrap his arms around her, littering small, playful kisses along her cheek and neck while muttering things like “beautiful,” “my gorgeous woman,” “perfect,” “you’re a living goddess” as she blushes and squeals in his grasp.

Terms like ‘precious, adorable, and cute’ are typically used in teasing moments - like when he’s trying to get a rise out of her, or while they’re having one of their many intimate moments. Seeing her face flush as she bites her lip and squirms underneath him, completely unable to shoot back a witty statement in retaliation of his fervid comment, really does something to him that he likes to indulge in on occasion. 

He’ll certainly compliment her attitude and intelligence as well. However, this is usually under a different scenario, like when they’re talking over, planning, or debating something. This’ll be primarily when she mentions something that hadn’t occurred to him, but he also certainly likes to give her chances to express a thoroughly thought out idea - whether he agrees with it or not - and he loves to stress his approving opinion on her wisdom and perceptiveness when she expresses her detailed decision. Of course, she definitely has times where her thoughts and decisions are... incomprehensible for Lance, but he still makes sure to show when he’s impressed by her.

He doesn’t compliment her too often, but when he does she knows it’s sincere, and he certainly makes sure it won’t be missed by her. The last thing he wants is to compliment her but for it to be forgotten because it was just a small, passing comment.

That’s also why he makes sure to compliment her when he’s having a random bout of intense affection. Lance is very inconsistent on when he sparks affectionate moments, but occasionally the feeling will hit him where he’s just so overwhelmingly happy to be in a relationship with such a powerful, respectable woman that he needs to stress to her how deep his affections run. This will likely only happen later in the relationship - when he knows she won’t run from him for being so incredibly emotional about her - and once he feels safe to express himself in such intense ways she’ll basically be spoiled rotten. Occasionally he’ll come back with flowers or a small trinket as a gift, but it’s much more common for him to take a day off to spend it solely with her, wrapped up in her arms underneath the blankets as they cuddle the day away. He’ll touch her whenever he has a chance, hold her whenever he can get his hands on her, kiss her whenever the moment presents itself and refuse to let her go - so long as she agreed to spend the day with him. Lance will know how to spoil her without being too clingy if she needs to spend the day working, but if she did agree to spend her whole day with him then she should expect to spend the whole day with him. Seriously - he won’t let her go.

This leads to how they cuddle then, and this can range from soft, gentle, and sensual to... basically pinning the other down and refusing to let them up. On a normal day it’ll be soft nuzzles while they hold each other in their arms, quietly talking or not talking at all as they embrace the rise and fall of their partner’s chest. These moments are calm, but can’t begin to rival the comfort of after-sex cuddling. In those moments, as their harsh breathing calms and dewy sweat cools on their skin, they’ll hold each other so close that they can feel the other’s pulse, and every breath they take threatens to suffocate them as there’s absolutely no space left between the two. Guardienne will fall into Lance’s strong, broad chest and rest her head over his heart to enjoy the alluring rhythm while the dragon will pull her tight against him, letting his hand run over the outer side of the leg hooked over his waist as his other arm pulls her close. These gentle caresses after sex are laced with moments of Guardienne brushing her fingers along his chest and abdomen, pressing gentle, sensual kisses to his skin as Lance tangles his fingers in her hair and curls an arm around her waist to keep her close. On the other end of the spectrum, they partake in a lot of aggressive cuddling, and this can be provoked by either Guardienne or Lance when they’re feeling aggressively playful or a bit territorial with the other. Lance may be feeling a bit jealous one day - there are many faeries who like Guardienne due to her valiant effort at saving Eldarya, and while he doesn’t blame them for doing so, she’s still his now and he will fight any rival - and will be seeking her attention, so he’ll pick her up and lay on her the bed... and lie down on top of her - literally. Only for a moment though, he’ll adjust himself to be only half lying on top of her as he wraps both arms - and both legs for the hell of it - around her and gently squeeze as he nuzzles into her neck. Guardienne can fight all she wants, but it’ll be no use. Lance’s strength overwhelms her’s without question, so whatever struggle she may try to put up to escape from him, it’ll feel no different than a leaf fighting the wind to Lance. Of course, there are times where Guardienne sparks this aggressive cuddling as well. She might be feeling particularly aggressive one day, and - knowing that her rough mannerisms is, to Lance, the equivalent of a Musarose batting at a door - she won’t be afraid to grab him and drag him to the bed or couch - and he’s only moving because he’s allowing himself to be moved - shoving him onto it before laying atop him. Now Lance could easily get up, but he loves when Guardienne has her aggressive, territorial moments (provided no one is hurt because of it, which is unlikely anyways) so he’ll humor her by poking fun at her demanding attitude or by just allowing her to express her affections via death grip. Occasionally he’ll be even more aggressive in turn and they’ll have a contest on who can be most aggressively affectionate towards the other.

Their cuddling and aggressive affection can depend on - or even help her with - her menstrual cycle as well, and, frankly, he’s become a master of pleasing a temperamental, hissy-fit woman who can be taken down only by blood loss when he needs to be. Lance knows how to keep himself calm under heavy pressure and anger from another person, so her futile attempts at getting a rise out of him will... really only get a rise out of her as she realizes he won’t throw a tantrum as easily as her. Any cramps she has? Well, he may be an ice dragon but he knows basics in controlling fire, so he’s certainly not against raising the temperature of his hand to rest on her abdomen and ease the cramps via makeshift heating pack. If she experiences hot flashes - or nausea flashes if the cold helps her with those - he’ll do the opposite and bring his body temperature down until he serves as a cool pillow for her to rest on. Those aggressive cuddles I mentioned before help ease any of her aching muscles as he holds her tight, and any aggressive affection he’ll shower her with - when not irritating her, as she’s pretty unstable between loving and hating this intense attention - will remind her that she’s not alone going through her torment and that’s he’s there to help bring her comfort if she wishes to utilize him.

He’ll take good care of her overall during her periods; making sure she’s hydrated, bringing her anything she needs, and certainly isn’t afraid of retrieving sanitary products (pads, tampons, whatever she uses) from the market if she needs him to. Lance will bless her with massages, random fits of aggressive affection or gentle loving, and will happily carry her around the room if she needs something but is feeling too pained, fatigued, etc. to actually be able to walk around. If she’s having a day where she wants to be left alone? No problem, he can basically ignore her by distracting himself with work until she comes crawling along to start irritating him for attention, and when that happens he’s usually quite fine with wrapping up whatever he’s working on and providing his affection to her. Of course, this isn’t to say that Guardienne can’t take care of herself during her menstrual cycles, but it shows that Lance is very prominent in helping her if she needs help during these times.

Knowing all of this, it's easy to imagine how restless they can get when the other goes on a long mission. Usually when Guardienne goes on a mission, Lance is sent with her for safety purposes (how could anyone forget her tendency of getting hurt?), but there is the occasion where she's sent without him. Lance, of course, will worry about her the whole time she's gone; wondering if he should have pressured Huang Hua more to send him with her, fretting that she's already hurt and alone somewhere, hell - even worrying that she's alright but another man in a foreign land is trying to court her, regardless of if she's interested or not, but frankly he's not sure if he'd be more disturbed if she is into romancing another man or of she isn't but is living through that forced experience anyways. Goodness so many things he doesn't know while she's gone!

When he's not worrying about her, he might be spending his time restlessly trying to distract himself. His partner is gone for an amount of time in which he only has a rough idea, so he’s left without anyone close to him to hang out with. Suddenly he finds that he’s very bored very often... He’ll occupy himself with work, basically; starting from the most important daily things and continuing until he retires for the night or until he’s done every task possible until there’s basically nothing left to do for the day. In the case where the Obsidian guard has basically nothing else to do in terms of daily tasks, he’ll take to planning things, or scheduling, or re-scheduling, or gathering information from other Obsidians, or running errands for Huang Hua, taking on extra missions, taking on a mission that will send him away for as long as she’s away, anything to keep himself busy. Mathieu has proven a bit helpful in these times - the young human is almost always happy to spend time training or just hanging out with Lance - but, of course, he’s not always available, and Lance can’t spend all his time with one person who’s not his partner. He does get a bit fed up with others once in a while after spending too long around them.

At night, or at times where he would usually find himself curled up with Guardienne, he’ll pacify his drowning ache to feel her in his arms by digging through her clothing drawer and taking a few items that smell like her to curl up with instead. He’ll bury his face in his partner’s pillow and sleep on her side of the bed, sometimes even taking her pillow - or a pillow in general - and placing one of her stronger scented shirts over it to hold close to him at night so he can breathe in her scent as he sleeps. Guardienne has come back to this sight many times - it’s quite adorable to find Lance passed out on her side of the bed, laying on her pillow with her shirt on another pillow clenched tightly in his arms. On the topic of clothing; he won’t wear her clothing, but he may keep a shirt or coat of hers over his shoulder in the daytime as he walks around their room - never doing as such outside of the room, though. When he’s outside of their room he’s distracting himself from her existence by working himself, but when he’s inside their room he’s indulging in her scent and memories until her fateful return. He makes sure to keep what happens outside his room versus inside his room separate.

When she finally returns she’ll be flooded with affection and attention like she wouldn’t believe, specifically being held captive in his arms for countless hours when they have time alone together as Lance does his best to express how much he truly enjoys her company and misses her when she’s gone.

Guardienne has a tendency to do very similar things when Lance leaves on a long mission; working herself more, sleeping on his side of the bed, taking other missions. However, she has friends that she hangs out with a bit more when he's gone. She certainly makes time to hang around them in general - she knows how to balance her relationships - but since Lance is gone, all her social time is now spent with her friends. Of course, that changes when night falls and she retires to her room, remembering that she's now alone until Lance's eventual return. Guardienne doesn't really like sleeping alone after so many nights with the warm dragon, but she's found ways to counter the cold loneliness that overtakes her. Like mentioned before, she’ll sleep on his side of the bed, burying her face in his pillow to drink in his scent, but she also has a tendency to dig through his shirt drawer and wear one of his stronger smelling shirts when she’s alone or as she sleeps. Throughout the day - when she finds herself missing his presence even more so - she’ll make a point of keeping anything he gifted around her more. Any jewelry, trinkets, ornaments, gems - basically anything he gave her - will be kept around her to ward off loneliness. She’ll also wear clothing he gifted her, and then wear one of his shirts over that. However, once again, those habits are usually restricted to inside the room. She’ll wear gifted jewelry and clothing in public, but that’s the extent of it.

Her reaction when Lance returns isn't too far off of his reaction upon her return, except when he finally relieves her of loneliness she'll throw herself onto him and kiss him in a passionate, desperate manner. Only in private though. If she meets him in public - at the gates of the guard, or something - she'll throw herself into his arms and embrace him in a tight hug before likely trailing him all the way back to their room to help him settle back in. Either way, the first night they spend together in a long time will be an endless night filled with heated touches and lustful whispers.

These were quite fun to write, so I hope you like them as much as I do! Since these are general relationship headcanons, I still have more that I could write about. There’s so many different aspects to relationships that it’s hard to run out of thing to write, haha. Happy to write a part 3 if anyone would like to request. 😊

Also happy to write a scenario on their aggressive cuddling, although I may do that as a special un-requested scenario anyways. (Perhaps as a 100, 200, 300 followers thank you sort of thing. I nearing 200 now and I want to do something special eventually 😉)

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

[nowoyas]

Sweet Words, Sweetcheeks

A/N: Day 13 of @birds-have-teeth​’s Izumonth server collab.

Summary: It’s been some time since you and Izuku took the plunge and bought the bakery, and Izuku couldn’t be happier working together with you towards both of your dreams. Well, except for one thing. (baker!Izuku x reader)

Warnings: brush ur teeth cus this one’s straight sugar

Word count: 2100+

A mop of green hair and matching eyes poke around the corner as you enter Lemon Wedge, the bell above the door signifying your arrival. "You're back! Any issues with the delivery?"

"Not a one!" you chirp, stifling a giggle at the sight of Izuku with flour dusting his clothing, frosting smeared on his cheek. "Have any of you boys eaten yet?"

A chorus of 'yes' sounds from the back room, causing you to sigh. "Anything that isn't on our menu?"

No one answers. You roll your eyes, making your way around the counter and rattling some bags of takeout loudly. "Alright, if any of you aren't doing something you absolutely cannot put down right this moment—which at least one of you should be, given I left you guys alone to deliver all those cakes this morning—come eat your fill." The boys have been giving you the runaround all day, your normal delivery driver having called out this morning with an embarrassingly pathetic attempt to sound sick.

"I'm free!" Kiri shouts enthusiastically. 

"I am as well," Tokoyami says, dusting flour off his hands. You watch as both boys make their way to the sinks to wash up.

Izuku lets out a whine from where he stands at his workstation, painstakingly kneading bread. "This batch has thirty more minutes of kneading before it's ready to proof, but I don't want the food to get cold..."

You set one bag of food down on a clean counter for Kirishima and Tokoyami to dig into, humming as you approach your boyfriend. "They're subs, babe. You don't have to worry about them getting cold."

You set the bag containing yours and his food on an adjacent counter, popping up on your toes and making like you're going in for a kiss. He's quick to respond, which makes it all the funnier when a disappointed whine leaves his lips as you lean over and lick the smear of frosting off his cheek.

"Angelcake, don't tease me~"

You smile, nuzzling against his cheek for a moment. "Sorry, sweetcheeks. Ya had something on your face there." 

"You're lucky I've got this bread to pay attention to, you—"

The bell rings as a customer enters. You bop his nose gently. "I'll be right with you~" you croon, practically skipping off to the front counter to deal with the customer.

Izuku waits. As Kirishima and Tokoyami go off to eat, he waits. As he listens to your sweet customer service voice while you talk to the customer, he waits. And when you're done and good and the customer has been served with a smile, Izuku waits.

When you return, he launches a small pinch of flour directly into your face.

You splutter, reaching up to wipe at your face in pure shock. "Did you just..."

"Maybe," he says, trying hard not to laugh as you stand there with flour dusting your face.

"I was coming back over here to lovingly hand-feed you your sub and you just..."

"I'll still take the sub?" he tries, batting his eyelashes innocently.

You sigh, heading over to the sink and wiping your face with some damp paper towels. "Nope, you lost your chance. Eat after you get that bread proofing, sweetcheeks."

He whines at your dismissal, but can't step away from the bread. You get back to work cleaning, stifling your giggles when his attempt to protest (something along the lines of "I've been kneading bread all day") is cut off by the phone ringing. You answer it in a second, waggling your fingers at Izuku teasingly.

"Hello, you've reached Lemon Wedge Cakes and Bakes, this is [name] speaking! How can I help you?"

Izuku turns back to his bread with a sigh. At least you didn't get a chance to question him. He'd almost ruined—well, that's not important. When you return from jotting down the call-in details, his transgression is forgotten, and you feed him bites of his sub between kisses and clean dishes.

~

Izuku leaves the bakery for the night before you do. Often, since you live together, either your shifts are at the same times to make transportation easy or he'll simply hang around and relax while waiting for your own shift to end, which usually results in him helping you with closing whether you want him to or not. Most nights, however, if schedules and workloads don't permit, he'll head home first to buy dinner for the both of you to eat when you're home, usually being too tired from being in a kitchen all day to get back in the kitchen to handle dinner. Tonight is one of the nights in which Izuku goes on ahead, leaving you to handle the storefront and get everything closed up while the high schooler at the register handles the last of the sales for the night.

When you finally arrive home, it's hours after Izuku, and honestly, you're excited to just get off your feet, crash on the couch, and watch some vapid reality show with takeout balanced on your chest and Izuku's hand in yours. What greets you, though, isn't takeout and reality shows. Izuku's head pops out from the kitchen with a broad grin. "Welcome home, angel!"

The living room is clean, the dining room lit with candles as the smell of something homey greets you. Izuku's hair is fluffy and damp, implying he's taken a shower since his shift at the bakery. You hear the sound of water running, then Izuku rushes over to meet you at the door with a kiss. "I missed you," he breathes against your lips, effortlessly picking your feet off the floor with his hug.

You snort, playfully pushing him away. His arms hold you tight to his chest, though—no escape from Izuku's love. "Izuku, it's been four hours."

"Four long hours!" 

You giggle and kiss him on the nose. "I missed you too." Your arms wind around his neck, rewarding his affection by relaxing into his hug as he sets you down. "What's all this? I thought we were getting Chinese tonight."

Izuku rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I thought I'd—you know, do something nice for you. You're always taking care of me, and we've been working so hard since we bought the bakery, and..."

Another soft kiss, this time pressed to his lips. "You cleaned everything up and cooked for me?"

"Myeah," he says, muffled as you continue to press kisses to his face. "There's cake, too."

"Oh, Izu. I love it. Thank you so much." As you pull back, prepared to sit down, kick your shoes off, and finally eat, a thought occurs to you. "Does all this have anything to do with why Denki called out this morning with no notice claiming to be suffering a, quote, '24 hour leprosy attack'?"

"Don't be mad, he tried his best," Izu says, ruffling your hair. "Are you hungry? Because the food's ready if you are."

"Hungry and exhausted." You press into his touch with a smile. "I swear I could marry you." Whatever he mutters in response, you don't quite catch. "What's that, Izu?"

"N-nothing!" he squeaks. "Come on, you should sit down. I'll get your food." He disappears into the kitchen, stumbling on the step into the elevated area with a yelp. "W-what do you want to drink? Is champagne fine?"

"Are you trying to seduce me, Izuku Midoriya?" you tease as you wriggle out of your jacket and kick off your shoes.

"[name] we've been dating for four years."

"And?"

"Of course I'm trying to seduce you," he calls, stifling laughter. "Gotta give you a reason to stick around, you know?"

"As if you're ever getting rid of me." You make your way across the room, draping yourself in a chair dramatically. "Honestly, how am I ever going to thank you for this one, babe?"

He emerges from the kitchen, setting a glorious-looking plate of food in front of you. "W-well, you don't have to, but there is one way you could thank me."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He sets his own plate of food across the table, smoothing his hands over his pants almost... nervously? "Hold on." He disappears back into the kitchen.

"Wait, no, get back here, tell me what I can do!"

After a moment, he returns, taking level, even breaths as if he's trying to calm himself. "You sure you wanna know?" He smiles, one that's almost forced. You'd be worried for him if you weren't used to his random bouts of nerves. 

"Tell meee," you whine.

He chuckles, circling around behind you so your head rests against his stomach. One arm comes around to hug you as he crouches behind you, pressing a kiss just below your ear. "Okay, okay. Just close your eyes and be patient, okay?"

You grin, but acquiesce, closing your eyes as he brings a hand up to cover them for an added layer of protection. "I-I've never been very good with words, s-so please don't make fun of me if I mess this up."

"It only adds to your charm," you tease, feeling him shuffle around behind you.

"[name]," he whines, "I said be patient."

You mime zipping your lips, letting him continue. He curses under his breath, fumbling for something that just thumped quietly against the floor, and you patiently wait for him to collect himself. He inhales, exhales, and starts again. "Okay. I... I said this earlier, but since we bought Lemon Wedge and started pouring everything into it, you've been working so hard, and I really can't express to you how much your support means to me." The hand that's been frantically shuffling behind your (and—you assume—his) back comes to rest on your chest, a quick kiss being pressed to the top of your head before he continues.

"I've loved you for a long time, longer than the years we've been together. But in the past two years, seeing you put your all into something that's my dream as much as it is yours... I've fallen in love with you all over again, and um..." He pauses for a long moment, taking several deep breaths. "Man, I can only shut up when I need to be able to talk, huh?"

"It's okay," you coo, still unable to see. "You know I'm listening no matter what."

He groans, resting his head atop yours for a moment. "See, you're perfect. Ever since we met, you've been nothing but supportive. I've always been a little insecure, but I've never once doubted that you loved me, because you've always shown that you care. Listening when I talk, even when I've gone off on some crazy tangent and I'm just thinking out loud. Bringing me food during the day so you're sure I've eaten something healthy. You mean the world to me, angelcake. There are days I'm sure I wouldn't have even bothered getting out of bed if I didn't know you'd be there with a smile. And I know, we already live together, I already wake up to you every morning, and that alone is more than I ever could have hoped for, but... wait, hold on, a-are you crying?"

"No," you sniffle, tears running down your cheeks. "Finish your sentence, 'Zuzu."

He presses a quick kiss to your cheek, stopping a line of tears in its tracks before finally removing his hand from your eyes. You gasp at the sight, though really, you already knew it was coming. "If you'll have me, [name]... I'd like it if we could... if you'd..." He lets out a tiny groan. "Sorry, sorry. [name], will you marry me?"

The ring resting on your chest is beautiful. An iridescent fire opal in the center, ringed with small diamonds and emeralds that instantly call your boyfriend—no, fiancé to mind.

You nearly fall off the chair as you flip around to tackle Izuku, crashing your lips to his as he yelps and steadies you. "Hey, c-careful, you could get hurt!"

"It's okay," you sigh against his lips, tears streaming freely down your cheeks. "You'll always catch me. Of course I'll marry you, Izuku. I'll marry you a thousand times, a million, even. Every day you'll have me, if you want it."

Izuku's tears join your own as he sits back, pulling you into his lap on the dining room floor so he can hold you close. "I'm so—so glad."

The dinner is spent in giggling tears as the two of you move to the floor to eat in each other's arms. It's hard to pull away from him, even when you've both decided you need to get off the floor and at least move to the couch. You spend the night cuddled up close to him, admiring your engagement ring with a soft gaze.

Tags: @tooloudarts​ @sapid-rose​ @xxangelpridexx​ @birds-have-teeth​ @icythotsenpai​ @warmchoccymilk​ @wesparklebitch​ @izoodles​ @fujimoribaby​ @my-bnha-things​ @denise-the-death-goddess​ @themerpenguin​ @sincerebubbles​ @themmmelissa @fudobaby​

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 16

////TW SA mentioned/hinted at/// Depiction of a panic attack as well

The hospital was a buzz with energy, which was a bit weird considering how small the town was. Were there really this many patients today? You honestly didn't know, hell for the longest time you weren't even sure this was a hospital when you moved here.

That was changed recently, like very recent. Last night in fact when you had been forced awake by medical staff trying to determine your condition. That sadist doctor of yours kept a small smile on their face the entire time you groaned about wanting sleep. They had simply tutted at you saying you needed to be monitored for several hours before they could let you rest.

Thankfully you hadn't seen them today but it was only ten thirty. A lovely nurse had been checking in with you all morning, even before you woke up. He'd come in when you had buzzed after waking up in pain and given you a dose of your medicine through your IV drip. When you questioned him about where you were he seemed to still in concern. Worried that you hadn't remembered your accident that lead you here.

After assuring him and giving him a play by play of your day yesterday, giving him the assumed day, and answering who the current president was he let you off the hook. Mark, your nurse, had been very keen to tell you the Cowell family is in charge of your care and will be here later in the day to visit with you. Granted you actually feel up to visitors. Which you take as code for 'would you like me to deny visitors?'.

You let him know you'll be fine with visits after ten. Knowing full well how fast news can travel in the small town it's only a matter of time before a parade of Hornets meander through to check in on you. First you wanted to grab your bearings before being thrown to your overly concerned friends.

Or maybe they weren't overly concerned after all you did just experience a home invasion that left you hospitalized. Simply being concerned is a natural reaction to your situation. But your head hurts just thinking about anything right now. So, you'd like to take a moment for yourself, have a bit of time to process everything.

Either way you'd been right, news travels fast in this small town. Nearly all the lodge residents had been waiting for an hour to see you when ten rolled around. At ten on the dot Aubrey, Barclay, and Jake stormed into your room and surrounded you like piranhas in a frenzy. You looked towards Dani, Hollis, Kirby, and several other lodge staff members for help only to get small smiles and a shake of the head.

They wouldn't be helping you out of this anytime soon. You just had to endure the genuine concern and affection from your friends. Luckily for your splitting head the visit only lasts thirty minutes before everyone has to leave. Life still goes on even when a loved one is in the hospital. With several promises to return tomorrow and requests that you take it easy the rambunctious group was gone.

You relax into your bed before turning on the TV and finding something mind numbing to watch. The food network works! You hope Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives is in the roll today. You're in luck as it starts playing right after the commercials.

The voice of your doctor is getting closer to your room. Great if you weren't already upset by the atrocity happening with the pizza at that restaurant then you are surely in a sour mood now.

“Well sir we hope you can reason with the child. They have simply fought us each time we've brought up the tests. We'd say it was mildly impressive that they held such coherence last night, had it not been for the headache it has given us.”

Oh here we fucking go again.

“I don't need the tests.”

No one had made it through the threshold before you spoke. Everyone froze at your cold tone. Until the doctor makes a motion towards you.

“As you can see, they're very stubborn.”

“I'm not stubborn you're just not listening to me. I haven't had sex in a year so I don't need a pregnancy test and I just got bashed around last night. I don't need an invasive search done.” You ignore the Cowell family as you speak to the doctor, “I find it concerning how keen you are to do a rape test on me even though I've repeatedly told you I just got banged up in the scuffle. Nothing more.”

The doctor still has their small smile placed just ever so on their face. There's something really off about them. Even under normal circumstances you hate hospitals and doctors. Mainly because they never listen to you about your issues, something you know would be even worse if you had 'Autistic' labeled in a medical file. But something about this doctor seriously rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps you two knew each other in  previous life and it was coming back to bite you in the ass now.

“Doc, the kid says they don' need a test, then they don' need the test.” Big Jo says breaking the staring contest between you and the doctor as they slide their gaze away from you to look at Big Jo.

You take no little satisfaction from seeing their stupid smile finally leave their face. It isn't long before it's replaces and they bound over to you. Poking and prodding you, jabbing with a lot more force than they should need to. After a small adjustment to your IV they clear you for this check up and allow the Cowells to have their visit with you.

“Something's off about them.” you say cautiously after the family steps into the room.

Big Jo sighs, “Ye' but they took care 'o ya last night kid.” Ushering his family through he closes the door behind them only to turn back to you with a stern expression, “so ya better play nice with 'em got it?”

Fighting back the intense urge to roll your eyes you nod, before turning to Little Jo who's made her way over to your bedside in her hands several thick graphic novels. The same ones your store started to carry a few weeks back. Looking up from the books you see her watery and puffy eyes. What she takes from Big Jo in personality she takes from her mother in empathy.

“I-I-I yip-yip I thought yip you might get bored so I yup wanted to let you borr-yip-borrow these.”

When she places the books onto the small table beside your bed you can see the tremors that rake through her hands. Choosing not to comment or bring any attention on the tween's obvious nerves you settle for an ice breaker.

“Thanks, don't know how much more crimes against pizza I can stomach.” motioning to the TV where a man is making paper thin crust on pizza to have a pizza that cooks in a minute.

That's not pizza it's cooked cheese and tomato sauce with toppings. Not pizza at all.

Jo nods softly, her normal enthusiasm no where to be found today. A pang rips through your chest as you watch her eyes cast downwards. With no clue how to help her feel better you have to swallow the sigh in your throat to not make the air heavier than it already is. Dia and Big Jo aren't much help either when you spare them a glance.

Dia herself is wiping her eyes with a tissue and sniffles escape her every few seconds. Not much is different bout Big Jo, he may have more prominent eye bags today but you weren't going to judge him for not sleeping. Even under normal circumstances you didn't have ground to stand on. Mark mentioned Big Jo was the one who found you from what he'd over heard at the nurses' station this morning.

Knowing this made the foreboding feeling in your stomach grow. The way he's looking at you with his cold stoney stare-he's not even really looking at you more through you. But his stare pierces you and sends the pit in your stomach lower than you thought possible. If it wasn't so chilly in the room you'd probably be sweating right now.

“Dia, why don' ya take Josephine home.”

Hearing this you lift your hand up to Little Jo before she has a chance to scurry out of the room with her mother. She looks at your hand and then back to you before launching herself into you with a crushing hug. Gravity doesn't help your case as the child's entire weight is on your prone form, you hadn't sat up when they came into the room.

“Get better soon.” the pain was worth it to hear the small plea. She at least felt a little better if she could talk without her vocal tic interrupting her.

After you pat her on the back and promise to rest up she's out the door with her sobbing mother. It's a quiet few moments after the door shuts before Jo takes a step towards your bed. If the pit in your stomach went any lower you're sure you'd be able to see your insides. The hulking man takes a seat in the chair next to your bed sighing as he leans back rubbing his face.

“Tell me what happened kid.”

You relay the events of your day to him. How you and Toby had gone out of town for slushies, gotten caught in so much traffic that you felt it was a punishment from God himself. The funny feeling you had after dropping Toby off, the one that said just to go straight home. And how you had a feeling someone had just been in your home. You left nothing out about the altercation with ski mask. That wasn't saying much because you only remember the ski mask and how you tried to claw their face off. When Jo pressed you for a physical description you weren't any help. Having been too caught up in survival mode you only registered the stupid frowny face on the ski mask as being a key detail...but any fool could laser transfer a decal. And the same went for that painted mask, anyone could grab an art store face mask and block paint some black over the features.

Vaguely you recall them wearing a jacket. Had it been red, yeah like a burnt burgundy maybe? It wasn't a lot to go on and seemed to frustrate Jo even more, if the pinching of his nose was anything to go by.

“You are aware of the situation, yea?” his accent has dropped, he's speaking in a more neutral tone and inflection. This might be the most rattling moment of the week-and it's only Tuesday.

He isn't looking at you so you give a quiet 'yes sir' in response.

“Kid your car got broken into on my lot. Your home gets invaded and you get bashed around/ All this a few months after my other front end girlie disappears in the middle of the night.”

A lump forms in your throat at the mention of Bambi. You can see the pattern he's stringing together, honestly you saw it long before today. You'd just been sloppy and took too much time to gather evidence of your stalkers' existence.  Bambi's disappearance wasn't voluntary and it looks like you may be next.

“Called Lydia already and we're upping the security at the cottage. Until I'm satisfied with the level of security you will be staying with us.”

“I co-cou” the lump was hard to speak around, “I can't impose like that, it's fine I'll-”

“You'll just what sleep in your car become an easier target? Go gallivanting to towns miles away where no one knows you.” his harsh words cause you to sputter, “For Christ's sake YN we don't know who we're dealing with right now!”

You don't make eye contact with Jo. You can't make eye contact he's raised his voice. You're lucky you're laying down or else you'd be rocking back and forth right now.

“Unless you have a clue who's out there and the police catch them, this decision is final. This isn't up for debate YN.” he finishes harshly

Even though he's finished you still can't look at him, your nerves are so shot and all you can do is bite your lip.

“Look I...I'd feel a lot more comfortable knowing you weren't out on your own while this gets handled. Josephine looks up to ya like an older sibling, she'd be crushed if you ended up like Bambi. Same goes for Dia. And I don't want that for my girls.” he says softly, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir.”

With that Jo leaves you in the room after informing you that they'd be back to check you out of the hospital tomorrow. And that you could expect a visit from Sheriff Owens at some point before then.

Even after Jo leaves it feels like someone has your heart in a vice. And every few beats they squeeze it, constricting the flow of freshly oxidized blood to your body. For good measure they try to yank the organ straight from your chest cavity but just end up bruising your rib cage.

Oh God you can't breathe, you're trying but you can't tell if you are or aren't anymore. The beeping of you heart monitor is increasing with each second. It's annoying ringing is too much and you need to rip the cords from you immediately. That just makes the ringing worse as it flat lines not finding any beating or rhythm under your skin.

Soon you're swarmed with a team of nurses trying to settle you down in your panic induced haze. Their grabbing hands and forceful touches burn your skin and light a fire that travels through your veins; and only serves to make you thrash more. Taking a swing at the nurse who holds a needle you continue your struggle against the other bodies holding you down as she stumbles away.

A few nurses rush in from the door to help her, not that you notice.

So many of the sounds are merging together and you can't understand anything. From the shrill beep of the heart monitor, the voices calling out at various pitches, footsteps. Everything forms into one gigantic frantic pitch in your already fried mind.

A growl rips through the room, you can feel the vibration of it all over you. Did that come from you?

In an instant all hands are off of your panting form and just before you can sit up a deep pressure is applied to your torso. Warmth seeps into you as the pressure lowers itself onto your body. Effectively ending your meltdown and lulling you into a dissociative state.

Floating is the only way you can describe it. The sensation of weightlessness and a gentle rocking caused by the adrenaline trying to defuse itself back into the body. Or the foggy haze that clouds your mind as you try to remember what just happened. Trying to rational the series of events and this outcome. But nothing comes to you except more brain fog. A confusing storm of frustration and vulnerability hits you. And you are left powerless to do anything. You can't kick your legs or scream as much as you want to.

The weight on top of you is forcing a calm to wash over you while the emotions inside wish to break free like a whirlwind. Your distress kick starting the whirlwind back up again only to die like a camp fire in a thunderstorm when you can't get any sort of momentum to your tantrum.

You can only loose yourself to the fogginess drifting further away from your psychical body. Completely unaware of the world around you as it washes away into nothingness.

When the floating feeling finally lifts you have to blink to shake off the remaining stupor. You're able to tell there is still a heavy weight on top of you but also something holding down your left hand. You turn away from the wall that you've been staring blankly at for hours, if your sore neck is anything to go by, and see Connor perking up at your movement.

“Hey bud,” you raise a hand to ruffle his ear and he lays his big head back onto your chest. “hey Tobes.” voice cracking as you greet the man you assume is holding your hand in a death grip, not once looking up from Connor.

There's a tight squeeze on your hand and you have to close your eyes and take a minute to collect yourself before turning to face him. The last thing you remember before drifting off was a group of nurses trying to sedate you. Having no clue what went on after that and when Toby came in you're preparing for the worst. Finally facing him you pause when you make eye contact.

“Jesus! What happened to-to-to you!?”

When you'd last seen him you'd dropped Toby off in the same shape you got him. Now he's sporting a heavily swollen black eye, one that looks pretty bade considering his nose bridge is also swelling a bit. It almost looks like it's pulsing. The dark purple bruise and deep red bleeding from under it to spread away from the injury is such a drastic contrast to his weirdly grayish complexion. You aren't sure if the black eye is actually that bad or if it just looks that way due to Toby's lack of melanin.

“Tim and I got into a fight.” his one good eye cuts to the side, “Barkclay had to split us up. Drove me here to get it checked out, it's fine.” He's dismissing it, they probably can't figure out if his eye really is fine right now, since he can't feel pain and that thing looks tightly swollen shut.

“Barclay.” is the only thing you can manage to say. Your brain wasn't prepared for most things right now and it's having trouble processing the gnarly injury mixed with complete nonchalance.

His lips pull back into a smile and not one you've seen from him before. Sure you've pulled a couple genuine mirth filled smiles out of him, or seen his teasing smirks, or bashful shy smiles when you've been out with others. But this smile, if you could even call it that-it was more like he was barring his teeth. Toby looked ready for another fight or like he was a feral predator about to rip out it's prey's jugular. There's a brief flash of a image that pops into your mind's eye, one of Toby's bloodstained face with this exact expression, teeth soaked red with blood and chunks of flesh in between . A chill runs through you at the thought. Had Connor not been laying on top of you, you would have shivered.

The instant you squeeze Toby's hand, the smile wipes off his face and he stares down at your interlocked hands. He returns the gesture before bringing his other hand over. Looking up at you through his eyelashes he flips your hand and when your expression doesn't change and you don't pull away he begins to play with your fingers.

“What was the fight about?”

“I don't have to answer that.” his tone is short and clipped.

You don't press the subject, obviously Toby doesn't want to talk about it. And you're fine with that, anyway if the fight was bad enough for Barclay to need to break it up and he drove Toby here you can assume Tim instigated and is probably getting kicked back out into the RV with no AC. As bad as it sounds you could care less. Toby's your friend not Tim, you only care if Toby's ok and while he may have a very fucked up eye in the future, right now he seems like normal Toby. A bit more irritated and on edge but that's normal after a stressful day. Hell you punched a nurse a few hours ago.

“What happened to you?”

There's a small part of you that wants to sass Toby, that you don't have to answer that. Thankfully the rational side reminds you that fight with a roommate is very different than having been beaten in a home invasion. Once again retelling your story but this time starting after you dropped Toby off. No need in going into as much detail as you went into with Jo or how much you'll need to go into with the sheriff. Toby's hands would grip yours tightly throughout your recounting. It's one of the reasons you didn't go into a ton of detail. Understanding your friend is barely holding on by  a string on his good days you aren't about to load your stress along with his already eventful day.

“You can't stay there alone.” he says after you finish the recap.

“Uh duh? Like Jo's already ordered me under house arrest at his house.”

It's like the tension leaks out of him like air leaving a balloon with the way he deflates after you say that. His grip loosens on you hand and he goes back to idly playing with your fingers.

“Good...that's good.” he nods to himself.

In the silence of this hospital room with his service dog on you instead of attending to his clear anxiety ridden form, you realize Toby's a lot more caring than his exterior lets on. The brunette might not wear his heart on his sleeve but it's easy to see it once you know what you're looking for. In this moment as battered and bruised as he is, even the potential possibility of loosing function in his left eye, he's more concerned with you. Whether it's low self worth or just how he treats friends you'll have to find out later.

“Hey...Tobias, I'm here y'know?” you start to sit up waving off a pecking Connor. Once you're far enough up you retract from Toby's grip, which he does fight you on a little. And you reach out further to his bicep, you can't quite reach his shoulder in this position.

“I'm ok Tobes, I'm here.” for some reason 'Tobias' doesn't sound right for this moment.

Toby doesn't give much of a reaction which is fine since you weren't really expecting one. He places his hand over yours for a moment before bringing it back into his grip and fixates on playing with your fingers once again.

With a smile you go to pet Connor with you free hand, hoping Toby might shake himself out of this funk. After a bit of petting you grow restless with the lack of stimulation and ask Toby to pass you on of the graphic novels Little Jo left for you.

It's easier than you thought reading with one hand would be, especially since you can prop the book on Connor who doesn't seem to mind. Pup is resting across your legs now that both humans in the room are stable enough to function without his intervention.

When you finish the first book Toby speaks up, eye still focused on your hand in his. And you find out that although the series isn't his normal thing he did enjoy the art style and a few of the jokes. He waits for you to finish each book before talking more about them and the arc of the story they laid out. Opening up for the two of you to have a nice discussion on the fantasy game based series. It's honestly so much fun for you, where you lack in background awareness Toby is quick to fill you in and point out little ques the writers and artist dropped. In return you're right there explaining character motives and the subtle looks of a character's eyes.

It's a fun few hours before visiting hours are over. And Toby paused at the door before he left, he looked like he wanted to say something but held back. Just as he turned to leave you call out.

“Get home safe.” it's normally his line but you aren't going anywhere tonight.

“I will....get well soon. I'll see ya later.”

There's that awkward smile! You can barely contain the beaming one you sent him before he left. Despite being hospitalized for injuries sustained by a home invasion from your potential stalker...well plural now, you've had a pretty great day.

Fuck that sounds so bad. Should you feel guilty about forgetting your messed up circumstances? No, no everything is getting sorted out. If anything this is going along with your plans for Big Jo to help you out. This was more than enough evidence to prove that you aren't just paranoid. And you're about to have a safe place to hang while this all gets settled.

The fact that you got injured is less than ideal but this is what you get for being sloppy and unfocused.

You have a lot of faith in your boss, you know this will be dealt with. Thinking back to everyone who came to see you today...you just hope everyone can be as confident as you are that this will all end soon.

[bitchapalooza]

Sail to sea

Lukas sees the Sea Spirit.

Tw death mention, past death, child death, drowning mention

Lucas scanned the horizon. The sun was setting, ending his third day on the job. Orange reflected off the waters of the quiet Norwegian town. The clouds were a beautiful cotton candy pink, soft enough to touch, good enough to eat. As the night closed in, the atmosphere changed. Everything calmed to a relaxing still. The wind blew gently. Jostling his hair. Messing it up.

The boat swayed as the crew readied themselves to port. Lucas drew in the last of the nets. Nothing in them. Same as the previous evening. A low frustrated growl rumbled from Lukas' throat. He tossed the net aside, it hitting the deck with a thud.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, Thomassen." William, his cousin and crewmate, frowned. His larger, rougher hand clasped Lucas' shoulder firmly. Grounding the younger worker from his rising emotion.

Lucas jerked away. "How are you so calm? The haul is lighter than yesterday. And the day before." William shook his head as he gathered the empty nets.

"S'way it always is, kid." He tossed the nets back to Lucas, the young man falling back a step but otherwise catching it without further struggle.

"Wasn't this way when I was a kid." Lucas muttered. "There were netfulls everyday. More than my father could handle sometimes."

Erick pushed past his fiance's cousin, bumping shoulders with the shorter man. "Things change. Get used to it."

Lucas wouldn't accept it. His father had run this small fishing business for years. Spent his life on it to provide for his family. Then he passes it down to his brother and it goes to shit. The amount of fish fluctuates daily, he's been told. He was instructed to deal with the dead ones they haul in. Do not question the half eaten fish. To throw back the younger ones to avoid killing off the supply. Most shops relied on them for stock. Restaurants relied on those shops. Families relied on both. The whole town will collapse if nothing could be done to fix this.

But Lucas let it go for now. He stored the nets away in the proper place. And then he caught something unusual in the corner of his eye.

Glistening violet in the setting sun. He scanned the landscape but saw nothing more. He was about to turn away, thinking it was a trick of the light, when he saw it again. In as much detail as he could capture.

Out in the distance, a glimmer of purple soared through the air. Lucas swore it was a body. Small and slim. Jumping from the water like a dolphin. "What," Lucas began, not looking away from the ocean. "What was that?"

"What was what?" William asked from the other side of the boat.

"The— whatever jumped into the air just now!"

"Oooooh," Finnigan, the old self appointed crew captain, came up from below the deck stroking his salt and pepper beard. "Sounds like little Lucas has seen it." He trotted over, ruffling the younger one's head of hair. Lucas swatted him away.

"It? Hell is 'it'?" He demanded.

"It," Erick sat down on the gunwale of the boat. "Is the Sea Spirit. Kids these days say it's a mermaid."

"Others say it's a lost spirit. And that's where my money lands honestly." Finnigan finished.

Lucas turned back to the open sea. "So," He looked over the edge, brows furrowed. "It's definitely paranormal?"

The crew nodded.

"Interesting.."

Later that night, Lucas helped his uncle and aunt clean up the dinner table then snuck off, telling them he was going out for some air. He took down a path where he knew the tide would be low, leaving the rocks dry and exposed. He climbed down the now rusty latter. Maneuvered over the rocks. And sat huddled on the flat bare stone that acted as land. The water was calm and the wind chilly.

Lucas dipped his hand into the cool salty water closing his eyes as he remembered a time long past. When the latter was brand new. Built by his neighbor and son. Kids used to come down here to play with their toy boats. It was once a tradition for the graduating seniors to let go a paper boat in preparation for their free life. Some even set the boats on fire, making a bigger deal out of it than needed. Lucas came out here to play too, once upon a time. When things were simpler. Happier.

But it looks like things have changed. The rope blocking kids off from the deeper parts is gone. The dock where, on occasion, a lifeguard sat, was in shambles. Barnacles hug every nook and cranny possible of every rock in sight thanks to the change in sea level.

And to think it's only been eight years.

"Hey spirit." Lucas called out. Back in the day, their town was home only to humans. No paranormal being could be found. It's a pretty foreign deal to these folk but to Lucas it's become normal. His parents moved him to the city where creatures did reside. Hostile ones. Friendly ones. He met a Fossegrimmen in the surrounding forest he observed everyday as a teen, always trying to muster the courage to ask him to teach him how to play the fiddle. He did always have the stolen meat prepared but never did approach him. He also met trolls and an usual Danish Nisse when he visited the countryside. Lucas is still convinced, after all these years, he even saw the winter spirit when he first moved. His parents continue to deny it.

Lucas was no stranger to these creatures. In fact, being told there was a spirit here, in this boring old port town, was just the pick-me-up he needed after leaving his parents' comfort and care nearly a week ago. Back in the city, he kept journals about the creatures he found. He found them intriguing. Fun to study.

Lucas swirled his hand in the liquid a few more times before retracting it, wiping it dry on his pant leg. "If you are out here, Sea Spirit, you don't have to be shy. I'd like to meet you if that's okay."

Nothing but the sounds of the sea answered.

A few more good bouts of silence and Lucas got up, ready to leave. And then something splashed his shoes as he turned away, soaking them to the bone. He faced the water again, looking down at the edge of the rock. And there it was, the top of a head and a pair of bright violet eyes reflecting the moon poked out of the water's surface. Lucas carefully sat back down a good distance away, never breaking eye contact.

"So," Lucas began. "You're what I saw this evening, huh?" The spirit popped their head further out of the water, revealing their beautiful spots of purple that glimmered in the moonlight. Lucas also noticed it's features. Very child-like, he thought.

"What is your name?" They tilted their head. "Your name. What do they call you?" He repeated.

The spirit suddenly came ashore. With the moonlight as his only source, he could just make out how sickly green and pale their skin was. Their hair covered their eyes, touching their shoulders. Gills sat on the sides of their throat while more purple scales littered their exposed skin. They wore tattered cloth, most likely a torn sail they fashioned into some clothes. Most of all, it was a child. A young boy by the looks of it. Perhaps around four. Or six in human years.

This was unlike anything Lucas has read about.

"If you don't have a name, may I call you something?" The spirit nodded slowly, hesitantly. "Okay. Hm..." Lucas thought hard on this. He's never come across a completely nonverbal creature before. Much less one he's never seen before. This felt like a huge deal to him so the pressure was on.

And then he snapped his fingers, spooking the spirit for a second. "I got it! Emil. You can be called Emil."

Emil grinned from ear to ear at that. Lucas chuckled. "I see you like that, hm?" Emil nodded, more vigorously this time.

"Well my name is—" Without any warning, Emil came over and took Lucas' hand in his. Clasping them together tightly. The two met face to face, Emil smiling with big bright eyes as he shook their hands up and down in an incorrect hand shake. Lucas laughed a little again. "It is nice to meet you too, Emil. I'm Lucas." Emil let go and plopped down on the rock in front of Lucas.

"Can you not talk, Emil?" Emil frowned. He shook his head. "Seems you can understand well enough however. That's good."

With the young spirit closer, Lucas got a better view. His hands seemed to be webbed, feet too. Good for swimming of course. His ears were not human but fin. Small but still stuck out away from the face.

"Hey Emil," The spirit's eyes swam with curiosity. "Would you like to know why I named you Emil?" The boy nodded, leaning forward in anticipation.

Lucas gave a small smile. He took a breath and began. "I had a younger brother. He was around your age even. A small, skinny kid. He was going through this difficult picky eater phase that made mom worry for his future health on a daily basis."

"His name was Emil. A shy kid that had this fixation of collecting rocks and picking up strange bugs every chance he got. He opened up around me, mom, and dad a lot more than he did strangers.. He loved to fish with dad and I. We went every weekend to the docks to catch a few and throw them back. Dad would sometimes make us kiss the fish as it would apparently give us good luck. What a fool.." Lucas chuckled from fond memory.

Emil scooted closer, listening intently as Lucas carried on. "One day, dad thought it would be a good idea to show us how he worked. He took us out on the boat. Put life jackets on the both of us as he knew us kids would want to look out over the boat's edge. But Emil's hardly fit on account of his small body. He." Lucas took a shaky breath. "He fell overboard. And he couldn't swim. Emil had already fallen under before dad jumped in to save him himself. He died. And we never did retrieve his body either."

The spirit layed a cold hand across Lucas' warm one. Emil pointed to himself, tilting his head.

"Yeah. I named you after my brother to honor him I suppose."

Emil shook his head. He quickly retracted his hand and retreated back to the water in the blink of an eye.

Lucas stood, confused.

Now what was that about?

[rupertgayesarchive]

That ask and your answer about what if Sam was out of hunting and never left Stanford because Gabriel wanted to stop the apocalypse and threw him into a pocket dimension and I’m like. Obsessed. primarily with gabriel and how Sam would go.

I think he would stick Sam in a like… you remember when Zachariah stuck sam and dean in the office job and it was a parallel universe but also it was real life? like coplanar planes, I think Gabriel would elect to do that instead of his you’re going in my alternate universe, because it’s less detail consuming and I think Sam would notice small things that were off like how he figured out it was him in mystery spot.

You said Sam deserves to have the apple pie life but if he was comfortable with that it wouldn’t like.. work he wouldn’t be ready to ever confront Lucifer or anyone. i agree but also I don’t think he would stick with his normal life. like in the zachariah episode he had a normal life and fake memories of that but he still wanted to hunt and help people and also figure out wtf was happening. I think in this scenario Sam would still be psychic because I love that but Gabriel would probably try like… suppressing his visions and such, because they would lead him back into possible angel business. I think he’d still get little snippets because that’s fun and having reminders in that that the supernatural like.. exists and ppl are getting hurt, I think that would overrule his want of complete normalcy and even his spite toward John.

I don’t think he’d go back into hunting like, completely because I want him to have something good and also be semi well adjusted. but like we saw in the terrible life episode I think he’d like.. if he got bored and started looking up strange deaths well now he has to go help them!!

also it is sooo fun to me if he starts realizing something is wrong but he doesn’t know what. like in mystery spot I love that trope sooo fucking much also in s1 sam gets back into hunting through John Winchester style revenge quest and I want to give him a reason to start poking around that is like.. for himself and not anybody else. he can have a little obsession over it as a treat because i like seeing him be a bitch <3

i think initially when Gabriel found out the apocalypse was like in motion and Sam was at Stanford he’d have an opportunity there to do something without revealing to other players that he is alive because he was pretending to be a trickster. like he’s very much in this for self preservation and if he did some time traveling shenanigans, or disappearing both Winchesters and maybe even Adam out of nowhere, I think he’d worry that the angels would take notice. Randy your vessels!! But Stanford gives him a natural window to hide a key player. he needs to do away with Adam too so Lucifer can’t possibly have a true vessel to fight.. maybe he can kill him in a freak accident because I find that funny. sorry this is long and it will be getting longer

anyway I think as time went on Gabriel would pay like less meticulous attention. he’d still keep away like key players but as other people also started trying to stop the apocalypse he would become more relaxed also he’d be overconfident in himself like in changing channels. I think this would lead sam to notice more stuff that just doesn’t make any sense and maybe start looking for dean or even his dad, or going out of his way to look for hunts. maybe get involved in magic because i think he deserves to be a witch. wait actually that’s how he should find Dean. i think Gabriel would hide Dean from Sam and vice versa, and he didn’t foresee Sam using magic or anything. Also at this point it’s been years and I think Sam is more invested in this than his like… normal life. he’s more well adjusted but I can definitely see him just impulsively quitting his job to figure out what the fucks happening. Also I think he’d feel animosity at dean during this for not being there and not helping him, even though that anger doesn’t make complete sense. sorry i like the early seasons salmon dean reconciling and learning to like each other and sam realizing Your Parents Are People and I would like to see it with them having like, completely different lives and also some fun miscommunication bc of Gabriel. also sam having to reconcile dean having cas OHRHDHJ also dean and cas trying horribly to cover cas being not human is so fucking fun to me. unless this happens during a cas is dead time period which is fun in a different evil way.

I also think dean would only stop looking if he though Sam was dead, but I think… Gabriel might have hidden him but other people ARE still meeting him even with like altered memories. so I think angels or something can sense that Sam is alive but they don’t know where and I think they’d gloat and use it to taunt dean that he is like.. suffering while his brother is living a perfect normal life. Also because this adds another miscommunication that can be discussed and end in reconciliation in a way I don’t think would feel contrived and is in line with it the characters. it’d be Amelia s8 but Sam would be like (Sam voice) I did look for you!!! where were you when I needed you! also I want Sam to find out John died and he’s in absolute despair while cas is standing there like oh yes that’s so awful your father was an. absolutely a man😔😐🏳️‍🌈

idk when this would occur and i think every season offers like… different flavors of enjoyment for an audience of just me. like s7 proto widower arc?? Sam reconnecting with Dean during TMWWBK when he is not familiar with the dean and cas dynamic and has to be witness to Trying So Hard To Be Loyal. additionally that would be fun because bobby is there and dean is like, covering his ears and back talking bobby regarding cas. and if they’ve taken pains to hide cas being an angel Sam being like .who is this to Dean. is suchhh a fun concept.

WAIT post goodbye stranger. or maybe Sam can show up pre goodbye stranger to watch dean go from clingy after cas gets back from purgatory to wrongfooted to like ANGRY. well not Angry… to dean having dean emotions. when cas is off with the tablet ignoring him and he feels betrayed. and this Sam isn’t as close to him so he doesn’t know ANY details until Dean stats divulging them as they reconcile. ALL GOOD OPTIONS..

also if this happens during s6 i think it would be nice if cas started collecting allies, and at the same time as Sam trying to figure out what was keeping him away from dean and the angel business Cas could figure it out FIRST and use Gabriel as an ally against Raphael but he’d feel like he has to hide it from dean and sam. like in this scenario. actually any time I talk about s6 hypotheticals Cas’ conflict IS the A Plot. the Winchester’s were on a side quest idc. s6 is a fun time for these reasons but i don’t like it as much because Cas is still in the process of like.. formative development.

okay one last thing I’m SOOO sorry for my essay. you said if Sam was dispossessed the apocalypse would just.. not happen. i agree to like, a certain degree, because I do think they could have found another way but all of them would have been dust compared to swan song. so maybe Gabriel semi succeeded but instead of stopping the apocalypse he just… prolonged it. this changes a lot but if either Michael or Lucifer didn’t have a viable vessel I think the angels would scramble to actually for real stop the apocalypse but others would still want it to happen even if it was like.. Perfect they just want it to be over. this provides angel politics which I am in love with and we can still have like TMWWBK development for cas. I don’t know where I’m going with this sorry

op this is a lot, this is so much. i love it, i hope you have a google doc open somewhere and are typing away furiously.

now i didn't rewatch a lot of spn past s3 (surprise) in part bc i can't handle the brain damage and some scenes are seared into my cerebral cortex in a way that induced a temporary bout of eidetic memory, meaning i'll never forget the crypt scene in Goodbye Stranger for as long as i live. that being SAID, my s6-s7 knowledge is not as firmly coalesced. so because of that i'm letting your thoughts roam free as i don't know how accurate my own takes would be? but i feel like without sam there, like... hm. would dean even be the same person... would the past however many seasons even OCCUR remotely similar with sam out of the picture for literal years? we might be looking at a completely different world at that point.

my other theory is that the s2 plot of special children - we know azazel was raising a new 'crop' of psychic kids. i think that was a plot thread that they ended up dropping anyway, but if they didn't i do wonder if we'd be dealing with a lot more shenanigans like in s1 and s2 except with kids? and dean and cas trying to figure out what to do with these young psychics that might be turned into a vessel for lucifer or - whatever they wanted to do with those kids. hm.

i also question if purgatory would be a thing. like it probably would come up and be on the table, but maybe the godstiel arc wouldn't, bc if like you're saying dean and cas are together at this point, like. cas might have grown to love humanity (not just dean but like 99% dean) to the point where he might not be doing this risky gambit for more souls. and if gabriel is still around, cas may start petitioning gabe to help throw his archangel weight around against raphael while he tries to do the actual strategizing.

i think sam would still have his visions, like you said, and then maybe those lead him to dean or to a case that dean is also on? or if angels are more well-known later on, he tracks one down, maybe cas, maybe not (if it's NOT and it's one that works on raphael's side. ohoho. the possibilities...)

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 2

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Thank you all so much for your thoughts and comments. I enjoy them immensely. I thought this was all going to be from Rowan’s POV, but... I was wrong. CW: Drinking, swearing.

The first Monday after Ashryver Playland opens is always Aelin’s favorite day of the summer. It’s a silly tradition her grandparents started, but it’s been a part of her life as long as she can remember. That very first Monday after the park’s first successful week, the Ashryver Galathinius clan opens up their summer home to the Playland’s staff and families for an all day pool party and barbeque.

Summer has always been Aelin’s favorite season. It means spending three months of pure bliss in her summer home, overlooking the waters of Terrasen from her bedroom balcony. And there’s something about Ashryver’s opening week barbeque that always manages to sets the tone for her summer. Summer doesn’t really begin until the barbeque begins. It’s always marks her first something.

When she was eleven, Aelin met her first real best friend, Dorian – one of the board member’s sons. She’d left the party to hide in the music room, trying to teach herself how to play her favorite Death Cab for Cutie song on the large grand piano, when he wandered in, singing on top of her stumbling melody line with a flawless unbroken tenor. He’d flashed her a giant smile and pushed his floppy dark curls out of his face and sat down on the bench next to her. They’d been best friends ever since. And the firsts only continued from there.

As Aelin finishes drawing a perfect cat eye with her liquid eyeliner she wonders what first awaits her this summer.  

“Aelin, ten minutes til guests.” Her mother, Evalin, walks past her open bedroom door and does a double-take. “Wowww, someone looks especially nice today,” her mom says with a playful gleam in her eye. “Might I ask who you’re dressing up for?” she asks, taking in Aelin’s white eyelet sundress and full face of makeup. “Because I know this certainly isn’t for Dorian. Wisely.”

“I heard that,” Dorian says, bounding up the last few steps and onto the second floor landing. He sees Aelin and grins that very same grin he gave her that first day he spotted her a decade ago and takes off running. Aelin squeals as Dorian hugs her from behind and swings her around, lifting her off her feet.

“Dor, put me down, I just finished doing my hair!” Aelin says, shrugging him off, but she returns his smile fondly, even as he flops down onto her perfectly made bed, making himself comfortable and kicking off his flip flops.

“You do look suspiciously nice, Ace. What’s with the dress and the hair? Aren’t you going to swim?” Dorian asks stretching his arms up and placing them under his head.

Aelin ignores him and goes back to finishing her makeup. She uncaps a crimson red lipstick and leans into the mirror to apply it when –

“You know if you’re actually looking to make out with someone tonight then red lips probably isn’t the right choice.”

Aelin slides her eye to the boy on her bed and then straightens up again, putting the red lipstick away. He does have a point. Dorian bolts upright, eyebrows raised.

“We’re making out with someone tonight? Who?” Dorian asks, poking Aelin’s thigh with one of his toes.

Aelin’s cheeks flush as she remembers the name of the staff member she so thoroughly stalked the other night. So thoroughly, in fact, that she’s actually embarrassed about it. But also, who has a public Facebook profile these days? Rowan Whitethorn, that’s who.

When Aelin realized all she had to do was ask her five year old nephew for the name of the man who rescued him, she was easily able to find the man on the RSVP list for the barbeque. And from there, she sat in front of her computer for hours, soaking in every last detail she could find. Grew up in Wendlyn, went to school at Mistward and majored in computer sciences and graduated four years ago. His interests include photography and fitness and baking (what man enjoys baking and posts pictures of it?).

Aelin is extremely curious as to how he ended up working at Playland. A man with that kind of degree doesn’t usually find himself ripping ticket stubs, but she’s not complaining about it. Aelin really enjoys looking at his face. And his arms. And his back. She’s anxious to talk to him today, which is annoying. Aelin is never anxious around men. She’s fun and flirty and confident, but one look at Rowan had her excess nerves dancing in circles and turning her into kind of a bitch. She’s hoping her second impression is a lot better. Hence, the dress. And the makeup.

“We’re making out with no one.” Aelin shoots a warning glance in Dorian’s direction as she puts on a light pink lip stain.

“You and Chaol didn’t get back together, did you?” Dorian asks, and Aelin cringes.

“Of course not.” She turns to Dorian as she puts on the final touch – her favorite gold hoop earrings. “You don’t think your best friend would have told you if we’d gotten back together?”

“I don’t know, that last break up nearly took us all out, so if we could not repeat that, that’d be great.” Dorian stares at her, willing her to fess up, but Aelin refuses to give him anything in return. It’s way too early to tell Dorian anything.

“All right, then,” he drawls in a silly British accent. “Keep your secrets.”

Aelin sticks out her tongue as her mom calls out from downstairs, “Kids! Party guests are here!”

“Twenty-four-years old, and we’re still fucking kids,” Dorian grumbles as the pair make their way down the grand front staircase. Aelin hops up onto the wooden banister and rides it all the way down to the bottom, shouting “Catch me!” to Dorian as he runs and chases her to the foyer.

Evalin scolds them, but there’s no real bite to it.  Aelin fixes her banister-swept hair and makes her way out to the front stairs where she and her parents will greet all the staff members and their families. Her parents are all about making the Playland employees feel welcomed, and they make a point to learn each and every one of their names. Plus, they’re a stickler for etiquette. Aelin can’t remember a time when she wasn’t on the front steps to welcome party guests as they arrived.

“I’ll meet you out back in… an hour-ish?” Aelin tells Dorian. “Steal me a bottle of pink champagne?”

Dorian bows at the waist. “Yes, your majesty.” He chuckles softly when she flips him off.

Aelin is the last to join her family. Her parents and her brother, for all intents and purposes, Aedion, already perched and ready to welcome the first wave of guests.

An hour later and Aelin’s jaw already hurts from smiling. She’s shaken so many hands and met so many people and made polite conversation with staff members from years past, but there’s still one face that hasn’t shown yet, and Aelin is having a hard time not showing her disappointment. He RSVPed yes, which means he should be here. Not showing up would be very rude. Right?

Aedion shakes out his hands and cracks his neck loudly. “Who’s ready for a drink?”

Aelin is reluctant to leave the front stairs. Leaving the front stairs means they’re finished greeting people at the party, which means that party guests have stopped arriving, and she’s not ready to admit that defeat. She gives one last wistful glance down the long empty driveway before giving in.

“Yeah, I could use a large drink,” Aelin yawns, leaning into her big brother’s shoulder.

“You’re not allowed to be tired,” he says with a laugh, squeezing her arm. “You are a sprightly youth and don’t have a ten-year-old and a five-year-old waking you up every morning at the crack of dawn to fight about watching Cars or Disney Fam Jam.”

Aelin looks up at him. “That’s not a real thing.”

“I assure you, it is.”

“This guy needs a drink,” Aelin says loudly as she and Aedion make their way out to the back patio where the party is really happening, and Aelin relaxes a tiny bit. So what if Rowan isn’t coming and she got all dressed up for nothing? She’ll look extra cute in pictures this year. She’s here with her family on the first real day of summer, and she’s determined to have a good day, regardless.

She takes in the scene around her – everyone seems to be having the best time. Caterers mill around the stone patio, holding out trays of grilled meats and veggies. At the far side of the patio is a long bar with an ample crowd around it. Champagne is being popped and spirits are being poured, and there’s endless bounds of chatter and laughter from all directions. In the middle of it all, the pool is filled with children and adults alike, playing games and doing handstands and lounging on floats.

The edge of the pool fades into the perfect view of the ocean. Aelin takes a deep breath as she watches the waves break against the shore. She listens to the gulls cawing overhead and inhales the salty sea breeze. Despite her small bout of disappointment, Aelin is happy.

Aedion’s two kids squeal for his attention from the pool.

“Dad! Auntie Ae!” Evie calls from the far end of the pool, her usual strawberry blonde ringlets sopping wet around her shoulders. “Watch me dive!”

Evie dives into the side of the pool, her dolphin arms in perfect form as she splashes into the water. She emerges with a giant smile on her freckled face.

“Good job!” Aedion beams. “Okay, drinks, now,” he whispers to Aelin, guiding her toward the bar.

“Where’s your wife?” Aelin asks, looking around for the green eyed brunette, who’s usually hovering around her children.

Aedion points ahead, and sure enough the woman in question stands at the front of the bar, looking insanely glamorous in a black one piece with a sheer leopard kaftan, taking shots of tequila with Aelin’s favorite returning staff member, Elide.

“Lysandra brought our babysitter with us today,” he says with a devious smile and snakes his way through the crowds to wrap his arm around his wife’s waist.

“Aelin, come do shots!” Elide pulls Aelin up to the bar, her outstretched hand helping her weave her way through the throngs of buzzed staff members. “We’re celebrating my promotion!”

“Ellie is officially manager level this summer.” Lysandra and Elide raise their newly filled shot glasses and hand one each to Aelin and Aedion respectively. Aelin hates tequila but loves Elide, so she clinks glasses and downs the alcohol quickly, grabbing a lime and sucking as much of the juice out of it as she can.

She shudders and Aedion punches her in the shoulder playfully. “Lightweight.”

Aelin rolls her eyes and reverts the topic back to Elide. “So, big shot manager. Does this mean you’re spending all your time with Lorcan now?” Aelin raises her eyebrows, knowing about Elide’s not so small crush on the stoic manager. “Long nights, just the two of you, arranging schedules in the soft romantic light of the Playland breakroom?”

Elide covers her face with her hand and screws her eyes shut. “Oh my god! No! No that is not what is happening at all.”

“Your mouth says no, but your blush says – ‘Yes, Lorcan, yes!’” Aelin teases, poking at Elide’s rosy cheeks. Elide slaps Aelin’s hands away.

“I just had three tequila shots, of course my cheeks are red.” Elide’s hands go to her cheeks, covering them as much as she can, trying to will away the warm flush creeping over her face. “You’re a monster, Aelin. That’s not what’s going on with Lorcan,” she hisses.

“What’s going on with me?” Lorcan asks, approaching from out of nowhere with a beer in his hand, and if possible Elide’s blush grows even deeper.

“Nothing!” Elide shouts, exasperated. “I’ll be right back. Be good, Aelin.” She throws Aelin a warning glare as she stalks off, and Lysandra and Aedion bite back their laughter as a bewildered Lorcan muses out loud—

“Did I say something?”

“No,” Aelin says, turning all her attention to Lorcan. “Elide was just saying how excited she is to work as a manager with you.”

Lorcan’s face lights up as he takes a sip of his beer. “Yeah, she’s been a huge help so far. Especially with such a new staff this year.”

“Yeah… a lot of newbies this year.” Aelin pauses, wondering if she should probe Lorcan about Rowan. It wouldn’t do any harm, right? “Anyone giving you any trouble?”

“Nah,” Lorcan shakes his head and pushes a long piece of hair behind his hair. “But you know me. I like them to think they’re all giving me trouble, so they act accordingly.” He snorts, amused with his own management technique. “There’s one new guy who is so jumpy around me. I love it.”

“You’re evil,” Aelin laughs.

“I prefer diabolical,” Lorcan replies. “Ah, and it looks like he just arrived,” Lorcan continues with a grin. “Want me to introduce you, so you can see it up close?”

Lorcan points in the direction of the sliding doors that lead out to the patio, and there, in all his tall blonde and board-shorted glory stands Rowan. Finally. But Aelin’s heart drops. Because Rowan isn’t alone. He’s arrived with a girl.

~*~*~*~*~

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[teamvnla]

Cutscene ; Turnabout

“Do I look familiar?” The doctor asked in a soft tone, his eyes looked over Kashmere’s face. He had certainty grown, yet there were still distinctive features the shown through.

Kashmere stared at the man, his mind abuzz. Something about him looked so familiar, yet the young Faunus could swear he had never seen him before...however there was a chance that it was true that he knew the man and that HE didn’t know him. He took a tentative sip of his water.

“You look quite familiar, what’s your name?” Fir pressed on, there was no doubt in his mind of who the boy who sat before him was. He had never expected a reunion, let alone one like this. The lack of recognition in the boy’s eyes showed no sign of a front. What had happened to him?

“....my head hurts…” He mumbled, lips grazing against the plastic rim of the water bottle.

“Ah, of course. Just wait here a moment, I have just the thing.” He stood with a gentle smile, Kashmere couldn’t quite place his finger on how to feel about it unless the aftertaste at the back of his tongue was any sign. Once the man had left the room Kashmere steadied himself, pressing his ear to the door for any sign of movement on the other side. Receiving a response of silence, he slipped from the room taking the bottle with him doing his best to casually make his way out of the hospital.

He nearly flinched at the screech of his earpiece only now noticing that it had been inactive, however he didn’t hear any voices. There was no way he wouldn’t be getting an earful had it actually been working, maybe they had some faulty equipment. He tried to push what the doctor had said to him from his mind, whether that man knew whatever was before who he was now didn’t matter...right? Despite his attempts the lingering questions and familiarity remained in his mind.

————

“What the hell happened back there?!” There was the earful the porcupine had been waiting for, though he hadn’t expected it the minute the door behind him closed.

“I felt sick..” He muttered, pulling the earpiece out of his ear, “That wasn’t much help anyways.” He added tossing the earpiece onto the coffee table, while Opal was ready to give Kash a lecture on the importance of maintaining a connection to your home base Russ was quick to swipe up the earpiece cracking it open with a small pair of tools. Opal’s head swiveled upon hearing the other boy break apart a piece of her equipment, though before she could spiral into a new lecture she appeared to come to the same conclusion Russet just had.

“It’s totally fried.”

“..it wasn’t just a simple dead zone..” She muttered a manicured nail held between her teeth, the annoyed expression left the beautiful woman's face replaced with a furrowed brow as she found herself returning to her desk quickly typing eyes roaming the multitude of tabs opened. Upon seeing Russet make his way over to join the older women pointing over her shoulder and commenting on something, Kash decided to make his way outside to the balcony figuring the cold air would help him think.

He leaned forward against the balcony, slipping the water bottle from his coat pocket tracing a finger over the label of the bottle,it wasn’t like it was going to aid their job anyway, but knowing that no one from the hotel room had seen the interaction between that man and himself made his thoughts muddle up. He let out a puff of air letting his head come down a rest against the cool metal of the railing, it was soothing against the warmth of his forehead.

“...Maybe I should just start smoking like Van..” He chuckled to himself.

“Quite a nasty habit, hard one to quit at that.” He felt the tips of his quills bump up against his shirt upon hearing the sudden voice, but from the accent alone Kashmere could tell who had entered the balcony, he hadn’t even felt her approach though that wasn’t unusual for a certified Hunteress. “What’s on your mind, boy?” Tarragon asked with a warm smile, unlike when Leo referred to them as ‘kid’ or ‘boy’ to Kash hearing the older women call him ‘boy’ felt anything but condescending.

“Dunno, just thinking…” It wasn’t even a good excuse, he turned leaning back against the railing to face Tarragon. His gaze rolled over her analytically, out of the three hunters they were traveling with he had decided Tarragon was his favorite. The questions she asked never seemed to have an ulterior motive. He was a people watcher, see, when you aren't too sure who you are taking on others personalities is lot easier than you'd think. Tarragon's personality was far kinder what he had expected when he first met her, that was besides the point. The Faunus paused, gaze shifting to the building nearby. "The thing is….I have this gap in my memory...I wouldn't really call it a gap though. Its more like...like falling asleep at the beginning of a movie and waking up in the middle. So, you try to piece together your own plot from the pieces around you." He ran a hand through his hair failing to remain casual upon explaining his situation.

Tarragon watched the boy's expression, for being so stoic Kashmere was still very expressive in his own ways. Having this team around who happened to be the same age as her own child, really reinforced her reason for taking on this job with such vigor. Her thoughts shifted as his words came to stop and his gaze moved back to her looking for a reaction to go off of. Bring a hand to her chin she mulled over the new information. "So now you're wonderin' if the plot line you've come up with is anythin' close to the original?"

"I don't care about the original plot line." Kashmere was quick to respond, lips pressing together in a thin line after, it made Tarragon wonder if he was saying to convince her or himself. “I mean...why should I care? I have everything else set up just fine around me, what does the past matter?” He clearly struggled with the new emotions bubbling in his chest, he shot his gaze away taking a deep breath attempting to regain the aloof composure he was known for.

“Kash,” She began softly, “Are you worried that whatever happened that you don’t remember is going to change you?” She tilted her body trying to put herself back into his view, his gaze glanced to her briefly making eye contact. “I can assure you it wont, you’re a bright boy with a strong personality and will. Finding out what you don’t know ain’t gonna change ya, if anythin’ it’ll just make ya even more sure of who you are in this moment.” She spoke warmly and encouragingly.

“So..you’re saying I should find out.”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t.”

“Sometime’s speaking to you is like solving a riddle.” Kash commented with a huff, he couldn’t tell if his thoughts were less muddled than before or if they had just gotten worse.

“How sweet, well my dear boy join the rest of when you’re ready. We’re ‘bout to have supper, you deserve a warm meal after a hard day of work.” She responded with a wave over her shoulder as she turned to exit the balcony.

Kash leaned against the railing further tilting his gaze up to stare at the darkened sky for a moment longer, what he wouldn’t give to be a bird and not have to deal with breaks from the mundane.

———

A few days had passed before Lye was being suited up for another appointment, Kash had yet to be called on for another exploration into the hospital and given few chances to be sent on reconnaissance either. He was practically bouncing at the chance to do something instead of given more times to stew in his thoughts, even his best friend was too busy to have a conversation.

“Russ, I’m probably going to head out to see if there anything I can find out from that lead from the other day.” He approached the redhead who was switching between typing away at his laptop and writing notes down. “It’s the one from the old hag who kicked you out of her shop,” He chuckled remembering the jokes they had made after the incident. “Wanna join?”

“Ah..” Russet finally looked up from the screen, a hand came to the side of his neck rubbing as he tilted his head. “Sorry man, Opal gots me workin’ cracking pass some of the firewalls for a lot of the restricted areas. Van might be willing to go with you though?”

“Yeah, Van..” Kashmere nodded nearly shocked that the person who knew how to read him the best couldn’t see the disappointment written across his face, the canine Faunus shot him a smile before returning to his work.

——-

He made his way to the living room which had been converted to the main hub of the operation, Opal was briefing Lye on the particular details she would need for the job today. He figured it would be best to make it quick.

“Lye, do you know where Van is?” He stepped in glancing towards one of the tablet screens with a feed of code he couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t, and frankly I don’t care.” The curt response quickly reminded Kashmere of the tension still remaining between the Marigold twins. Mood clearly soured Lye purse her lips, turning her attention back to Opal. “Sorry, kinda busy right now Kash.”

He gave a silent nod taking it as his cue to see his way out, he knew she was pissed at Van, but a simple no would have been enough to send him on his way.

———

Kashmere poked his head into the penthouse kitchen where both Jae and Leo were mulling over blueprints of the hospital.  “Have you guys seen Van?” He asked, feeling as if he was interrupting despite it feeling like the millionth time he had walked in on the pair going over blueprints.

“I saw him earlier..I think he was heading out.” Jae glanced towards Kash while the only reply Leo had was a gruff shrug.

“He went with Tarragon on some reconnaissance.”

“Oh.”

Titus queried a brow at the blunt response, he figured that the boy would be more happy to receive an answer. “I can tell you where they were heading, I don’t think they’d mind the extra set of hands.” He added feeling a sense of the pity for the young hunter.

He nodded almost hesitantly, he headed out after receiving the coordinates though once a block away from the hotel he stopped abruptly. Staring at the ad of the great owl tucked in amongst the branches of the tree, in that moment his conversation with Tarragon flashed in his head and before he knew it his route had changed in the direction for the hospital.

———

Kashmere knew what cameras the team had their screen focused on, he also knew the routes that they had gone over using. Combining bits pieces he managed to assemble a route straight to the head office, were it not for the waves of nausea and the thumping in his chest he would’ve been quite proud of himself for doing so. The route he took was practically a cake walk, maybe he’d have to give the team the signal that it was far easier to infiltrate than they had originally thought.

He swallowed hard staring at the grand oak door before him, he could feel a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. The door struck had something deep within him that he couldn’t place his finger on, instead of dwelling on the feeling he grasped the gold handle and pushed the door open.

“We need to talk.” He stated the door shutting behind him, facing the old man sitting at a large desk with a beaming smile quite the opposite of the tense expression the young Faunus wore.

“I was worried for a moment you wouldn’t return.” Fir stood gesturing to one of the lush seats in the middle of the office. “May I offer you some tea before we start, chamomile is known to help ease nausea.”

[desperationandgin]

The Beat My Heart Skips (Market Price One-Shot)

Rating: General Audiences

Also Read On: Ao3

Summary: Jamie attempts to surprise his pregnant wife with the foods she craves.

A/N: From a prompt @smashing-teacups​ sent me like 8 months ago! This is also my dear BFF’s very BELATED birthday fic. ilu so much <3

I adjusted a little but I hope the spirit of the prompt lives on!

The Beat My Heart Skips

++

The texts from Claire had started at two in the afternoon while he was at Lallybroch, deep in planning the next few weekends’ worth of farmer’s market details.

Burgers for dinner? 😘

He’d replied he would pick them up from her newly-declared favorite place for burgers, and promised chips to go along with them. A half-hour later, the next message arrived.

thinking more about the pork rolls we had the other night.

He’d replied:

Instead of the burgers?

Think so. Sorry. Baby’s picky  🤷‍♀️

It made him smile, swiping to the home screen only to see the latest in his growing collection of photos featuring Claire’s belly. The bump was only clearly visible when she was unclothed, but it was there, a swelling proof of life, and he’d found he could stare, stroke, and murmur to that growing roundness for hours on end. He’d finally responded with a quick dinna fash and assumed that would be the end of it.

He was wrong. The next messages had come in rapid succession, mildly alarming until he could read them.

I think pizza would be better

Remember the burritos we had at Mazama?

Jamie, I don’t know what your child wants…

Kebabs??

Would you like to contribute an idea?

Thumb hovering over the phone, he’d tried to decide if he should pick one thing from her list, or offer something completely different. He’d decided, in the end, to go with a solid favorite.

Thai noodles, Sassenach?

The three telltale bubbles had appeared, then dropped, then appeared again before another text came through from his wife.

That sounds good too.

It was the ‘too’ that convinced him of what needed to be done.

You only need to be prepared with an appetite when I’m home. 5p. No later.

Now, he’s sitting in the passenger seat of his sister’s mini-van while Jenny drives.

“How many places is it, total?” she asks, glancing over.

Scrolling on his phone, he counts aloud. “Six. No, seven. I need more ice cream.”

“Alright, weel, we have to be strategic about it. Ice cream last, obviously. Then I’ll just drop ye back at yours and both of ye can come over tomorrow for Sunday supper. We’ll finish the plannin’ then, ye get your car, all done.”

Jamie looks over at his sister, impressed. “Thought it all out, have ye?”

“If you take a pregnant woman hot, fresh food that’s been left to steam in its containers only tae go soft and damp, she’ll throw it at yer heid. Trust me.”

He snorts. “Should I ask Ian?”

“He’ll no’ bring me soggy chips again, I’ll tell ye that much.” Jenny pats her own very round belly. “Learned wi’ the last bairn.”

Suitably impressed (and making mental notes he never knew he needed), they make a plan beginning with pizza and ending with a very quick stop inside a corner shop for two containers of Neapolitan. By 4:45, Jamie’s outside of his home, hands loaded with takeout bags. Leaning down into the open car window, he holds up his bounty.

“Thank ye, truly. I owe ye, Jen.”

She waves him off. “Ye’ll babysit soon enough.” Her face softens, though, and she meets his gaze. “Da would be proud. Mam, too.”

Lowering his head, Jamie swallows, but when he looks up again, there’s a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I always hope, but hearing it from you, especially, is important.”

“Why me?” she asks as he steps back.

“On account of ye bein’ the wee ball-buster in the family,” he teases fondly, thanking her again before watching her drive safely away. Juggling bags and keys, Jamie lets himself into the house, calling out.

“Sassenach?”

“In here,” she calls from the living room, and he ducks into the kitchen.

“Stay there, I have a surprise for ye. And dinnae try to peek, ye’re no’ verra sneaky anyway,” he says in return. As he sets everything up along their counter, buffet style, he can hear her moving about.

“I assume this surprise is in regards to food,” she deducts.

“Always kent ye should ha’ been a detective,” Jamie smirks, able to hear her huff from the other room. “I’m almost done, ye can bide a second longer.”

“One,” she says pointedly. “Your child is starving.”

“I’ve noticed ye tend to refer to the bairn only as mine when ye cannae make your mind up about something.”

Her voice is closer when she speaks. “That’s because you’re stubborn,” Claire retorts, standing directly out of sight.

“Oh, am I the only one?” he asks as he finishes by propping the pizza open. “I always thought ye were a relatively patient woman, Sassenach, until I got ye wi’ child.”

“I am bloody patient! It’s the only reason I haven’t stepped foot into the kitchen to throttle you yet.”

He can’t help but laugh silently for a moment, drawing it out a few seconds longer before finally poking his head around the corner only to come face to face with her. “Alright, a nighean. Ye can come in.” Stepping aside, he watches as she enters, taking in the sight of her realizing what she’s seeing.

“I figured we could make a good go of it, and now we have plenty for tomorrow,” Jamie explains.

Claire stares at the bounty in front of her in stunned silence before looking up at her husband. “You went to all of these places?”

“Aye. Well, me and Jen. Ian was home and she was desperate to get out of the house for a bit anyway. So she drove me around, and now you and the bairn have whatever ye’d like. Including more ice cream.”

Too moved for a moment to say anything, she simply blinks at Jamie, afraid to open her mouth because she’s sure she’ll cry.

A good thing, then, that he knows to step forward, reaching out to rest his hands at her hips. “I wanted ye to have whatever you wanted, Sassenach.”

That does it: the flood gates open (because hell if she has any control over her hormones anymore) and she finds herself cradled to his chest. “I cannot believe you,” she mumbles into his shirt affectionately, arms looping around his waist.

“I do try to keep ye guessin’,” he murmurs into her hair, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

“Do you also plan on helping me eat all of this?” She pulls back after placing a soft kiss to his chest before getting a plate and trying to decide what to attack first.

“Oh, aye, I’ll be eating plenty. I’ve been eying a burrito since we picked them up,” he promises, having no intention of letting his wife eat alone. Pointing out the different varieties as she picks and chooses, he loads a plate for himself and takes it to the living room, settling with her leaning against the arm of the sofa sideways, legs across his lap.

Bringing a forkful of noodles to her mouth, she pauses to look at him. “Thank you, Jamie. For indulging me.”

Balancing his plate with one hand, the other squeezes her calf. “I figured if ye’re going through all the trouble of making a person, Sassenach, the least I can do is feed ye what ye want.”

When she smiles, it’s as though his entire soul flares with warmth, and it’s difficult to take his eyes from her.

Which is why he sees it the instant all color drains from her face. What happens next requires zero communication as she sits up, he takes her plate, and her legs swing from his lap. Within thirty seconds, she’s in their bathroom bending over the toilet, vomiting. Wincing in sympathy, Jamie simply stares for a moment at the two plates full of uneaten supper in his hands.

Putting the dishes on the coffee table, he rises and makes his way to the bathroom to join her, reaching out to hold her hair out of her face. “I’m sorry, a nighean.” Jamie’s always very aware that he’s the one who did this to her anytime she’s miserable, and it makes him regret being quite so boastful about it.

When her stomach finally calms, he stands with her and leans against the doorframe as she rinses with the mouthwash that is now a permanent fixture on the countertop instead of tucked away in the medicine cabinet.

And then he watches as she begins to cry, confusion making his forehead furrow, wondering what this new mood swing is and how to handle it. Reaching out for her, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her in an attempt to soothe as he rubs her back. “Dinna weep, lass,” he murmurs, more concerned as she clings to him tightly.

“Fuck, Jamie,” she manages, sniffling when she finally pulls back, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand.

“Likely no’ right now,” he tries to tease gently as he lifts a hand to stroke her cheek.

She doesn’t even react, simply chooses to ignore him and move on even as tears brim on her lashline. “I can’t eat any of that food right now.”

“I realized it soon as ye got up from the couch,” he points out, kissing her forehead.

“But you went to...Christ, how many places was it?” she asks as new guilt washes over her in an irrational wave. “And Jenny was with you,” she laments.

He doesn’t know how to fix this, exactly, and so he simply guides her by the hand to their bedroom to avoid the smell of various foods in the front of the house.

“Mo nighean donn, why would Jenny be put out? She’s been pregnant a dozen times, she kens how it goes,” Jamie points out gently.

“It was so thoughtful of you. I wanted to be able to enjoy your effort,” Claire admits as his arms encircle her.

“Ye still can when ye feel like eating. All of it will still be there, Sassenach. Doesna matter if we eat it this evening or tomorrow.”

“You aren’t annoyed?” she asks, knowing the answer but needing to hear it.

“Only at yer hormones, but no’ at you,” he promises with a kiss to her knuckles, over her wedding ring.

“Well, I’m annoyed at my hormones too,” Claire exhales, recovered now from the bout of tears but not the nausea as she lies down on the bed properly. “When your aunt called, she said being sick all the time is the sign of a boy.”

“Should ask Jen, she might have some light to shed on it, havin’ had both,” Jamie suggests as he lays propped on his side and pushes his hand under her shirt to lightly stroke her stomach.

Closing her eyes, she concentrates on the feel of his touch rather than the vertigo. “Do you want to find out what we’re having, or let it be a surprise?”

His fingers still for a moment before continuing as he ponders her question. “I never considered it. Does it matter to ye, for decorating and buying things?”

“Not particularly. There aren’t very many things that can truly be left a surprise in life.” She can’t help smiling at the idea of it, of not knowing until their child is in their arms.

The look on her face makes it clear her mind is set, and Jamie drops a kiss to her abdomen. “We’ll leave it a mystery then, Sassenach.”

“We’ll have to pick a name for either scenario,” she points out, taking deep breaths in and exhaling slowly as she wills away her symptoms. When Jamie doesn’t respond right away, she cracks one eye open only to find him lost in thought. A hand lands in his hair, gently scratching his scalp. “Where’d you go?”

He makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. “I’m here,” he promises with another kiss. “I was only thinking...if it’d be alright wi’ ye...we could name the bairn after my da.” When he chances a glance up at her, his eyes are suspiciously damp.

If ever there is a key to getting her nausea to dissipate, it’s the sight of her husband’s vulnerability. Her hand shifts from his hair down his face to cradle his cheek. “Brian,” she murmurs, nodding her agreement. “And if it’s a girl?”

He’s quiet, ghosting his lips across her skin now, trying to will her hormones to settle for a while.

“Hmm. Weel, there’s always, simply, Brianna,” Jamie suggests.

Claire tries it on her tongue, adding a second name. “Brianna Ellen Fraser. Or Brian Henry Fraser. What do you think?”

Scooting up on the bed now, he pulls his wife close, needing to kiss her ring again, to say a silent prayer for the love of this woman. “That ye’d honor my parents that way, Claire-” It makes him more emotional than he would have ever imagined, the way his wife’s heart shows itself.

“I thought, since we’re having - what was it, ten by your last count? - since we’re having ten children, the second could be named after my parents,” she suggests, knowing it will happen now that she’s said it.

“It’ll no’ be ten if ye feel like this every time,” he says with equal parts concern and frustration that his wife simply can’t eat when she’d like.

“Jamie,” she murmurs, gliding her thumb across his jaw. “This amount of illness is normal. And it’s getting somewhat better. Today was unfortunate,” she allows, a hint of apology in her tone.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” he assures her as he sits up, leaning down to drop a kiss to her forehead before finally standing. “Now we have plenty for breakfast and lunch. If ye dinna mind noodles before ten in the morning.”

She chuckles, the waves of nausea somewhat less turbulent. “If my stomach can manage, then so will I.” But she already knows the noodles will never make it to morning. She’ll be awake at three in the morning, eating when her hunger finally kicks in.

“I’ll go and put everything away, then we’ll see if ye’ll do wi’ a bit of light reading,” he offers. He’ll also quickly eat while he isn’t in front of her.

“Reading in bed?”

“Aye, I’ll no’ make ye move,” he promises, reaching out to cradle her cheek before stepping back.

“Then you’ll know where to find me when you return,” she says lightly with a small, fond smile.

“Which is exactly where I want ye to be, incidentally.”

She chuckles, waving playfully at him to go. “I’m looking forward to reading your next pick.”

Before he can make it out of the room, she calls him back.

“Aye?”

She takes a moment to look him over, still in his jeans and button-down from the day, curls askew and his scruff just past its normal length.

“I’m very madly in love with you, you know.”

When he smiles he ducks his head, and the way his ears turn bright red makes her want to laugh in sheer delight of him.

“That’s verra good, Sassenach. On account of I happen to be mad wi’ love for ye myself.”

“You’d better go, before you say something very Jamie Fraser and make me cry,” she warns with a more playful smile at the end.

He can’t help doubling back, this time to kiss the soft round apple of Claire’s cheek before nuzzling it with the tip of his nose.

“I’ll bring ye back a ginger ale.”

When he finally leaves her to rest, Jamie puts everything away in record time - except for the noodles. He places them in a separate container and sets it in the fridge with a sticky note on top.

For the bairn xx

[jostenneil]

your top 5 anime couples?

ok so the funny thing is i wrote out my answer to this ask a few days ago and just as i was publishing it my internet decided to die so i lost the whole thing and got rly sad. but i’m back now and perhaps with some better answers so maybe this worked out to your benefit lol 

edward/winry (fullmetal alchemist) → this is pretty self explanatory but nonetheless, i adore the potential with these two. i think there’s a lot of subtleties to their relationship that aren’t touched upon enough in fandom, like how far their intimate understanding of each other goes, how their fears for each other manifest in the work that they do every day, etc etc. they’re a wonderful portrayal of the childhood friends to lovers trope just by way of the fact that they know each other down to a microscopic level. like i think it can’t be overstated enough just how amazing it is that a part of ed’s life is in winry’s hands and a part of her life is in his hands, and how that builds upon the foundations of their unbreakable trust in each other. i also love how their relationship is built on the fact that they’ve essentially been the heads of their households since they were kids. that burden and sense of responsibility they share in is so palpable and esp fun to explore in the post canon when they finally have time to focus on themselves and what they want to do with their work and their family in the long term, i love to think about it! 

tsumugu/chisaki (nagi no asukara) → there isn’t a lot i can write here without spoiling the events of the series itself, but to describe the basics of these two, it comes down to a sort of complicated love polygon that they’re caught in the middle of, and i love how it plays out here. chisaki has loved one of her childhood friends for her entire life, so when her feelings start to change and she develops them for tsumugu instead, she’s weighted with this intense sense of guilt that parallels to a traumatic event that occurs mid series. chisaki is someone who hates the idea of change and growing up and tsumugu as first her friend and then her potential love interest is someone who subtly tries to challenge that mindset and help her grow, all while caring very deeply for her. it’s a really nice case of push and pull, and what amplifies it even more are all of the sea associated metaphors that their relationship is entwined with. chisaki is like this tumultuous and unpredictable sea, while tsumugu is the boy in the boat who patiently weathers her storms. it’s magnificent (and on netflix)

junichi/yurika (kids on the slope) → the funniest thing to me about this manga is that unlike most ppl my greatest takeaway from it was the relationship between these two as opposed to the main focus between the homoerotic, catholically symbolized best friends (which is still impeccable), but i have my reasons! i like these two bc they depict what a mature relationship between two people, no matter how damaged, ought to look like. when they first meet, jun is charismatic, flirtatious, and daring, yurika haughty and alarmed but also intrigued. there’s a brief potential there for some magic, and then they don’t see each other again for several months. the next time they meet, all the previous facades have been shattered. he’s been disowned by his family and now lives alone, depressed and jaded by the world, and she’s growing increasingly frustrated with the impositions put upon her as a pretty girl from a rich family growing up in 60s japan. the conversations between them thereafter are very charged and challenging as they poke and prod at each other’s world views, but it’s ultimately a healthy banter that’s necessary for them to come to an understanding and move forward. jun fears hurting the people he loves and isolates himself as a result, and yurika pushes back at those walls and limited thinking bc they’ve been towering over her all her life. it’s just a beautiful exploration in balance esp since they’re a couple that has to make it on their own without their families’ support, so they need mutual understanding to survive 

marco/connie (gangsta.) → the relationship between these two is pretty complex. marco is originally a born and bred child mercenary, but at a point in time he begins to harbor some doubts about the work he does with his “friends”, and the turning point in his life becomes the death of connie’s parents at their hands. connie cries these angry, unforgiving tears and stares at him with so much hatred in that moment that it rocks him to his core, and a series of events leads to him abandoning the mercenary lifestyle and completely starting over in an effort to repay kindness to the people he’s only ever harmed. what’s interesting about these two is that connie rly holds him to this endeavor. she’s constantly skeptical of him and she doesn’t like him nor holds these great hopes for him to improve as a person. she makes no moves to help him initially when he’s mocked and jeered at for attempting to start fresh, and why should she? he ruined her life. but the interesting thing is that marco’s persistence when it comes to doing good and wholeheartedly repenting is something that begins to intrigue her, and slowly she starts to let him into her life. first as a delivery boy she greets at the door, then as maybe an acquaintance, then a friend, and somewhere along the way, a lover. it’s a really dark relationship (explored in more detail in gangsta. cursed) but i love how it’s explored and how they push each other to be better people 

taichi/arata (chihayafuru) → if you know anything of this fandom you know this is the unpopular choice, but nonetheless, my reread this past year enlightened me to it. i feel like these two really take rivals to lovers to the next level. their initial friendship as kids barely touches the surface of some of the insecurities each of them harbors, but as they grow up apart from each other there’s this simultaneous loathing and longing that manifests in each of them for the other that’s really amazing to watch unfold. there’s so many backhanded comments between them followed by bouts of remorse and self-hatred, there’s secret expressions of just how happy they feel when they’re able to play each other, the tension that exists between them as they fight not just for chihaya’s love but for the love of karuta is so so intense and devastating, and ultimately it’s a really well fleshed-out exploration between childhood friends vested with different life experiences that ultimately put them at odds with each other. the way their relationship has developed up until now in the manga is just crazy to see and i sometimes wonder if they’d be more popular had they been straight lmao 

[violetwolfraven]

2/2 Still me! That last thing, And/or Some good ol' platonic Ralbert! Honestly, I have no specific ideas but I'm also not picky! Anything where we can see our boys loving and supporting eachother in a good healthy platonic relationship is a wonderful thing if you ask me!

Platonic ralbert coming right up! Unfortunately this turned a little angsty on me but whatever. Joke’s on me for thinking I have the capability to not be a dramatic little shit and not run with the first semi-angsty idea I get, I guess.

Also I hope you don’t mind that I’m including background redfinch and sprace in here, but it’s mostly platonic ralbert. This takes place a few months before canon. I will probably write a followup redfinch thing, but you might wanna send an ask cause I’m pretty busy and I’ll probably forget lol. Anyway, enjoy. :)

...

Race knew that something was wrong when Albert plopped down on the end of his bed, staring at the bottom of his bunk above.

“Albie?”

It took a five count for Albert to look over at him, and Race was alarmed to see pain in his eyes.

Putting the book he’d borrowed from Specs (which surprisingly wasn’t boring) aside, Race scooted closer to his best friend, poking him in the side to make him sit up.

“What’s wrong?”

Albert pulled his legs up onto the bunk, sitting criss-cross applesauce, “Promise not to laugh?”

“Albie, you once caught me sneakin’ into the Lodging House at 2 AM with 6 stolen shirts and half a loaf of stale bread. You haven’t paid for your papes in a week and I know for a fact that ya ain’t told your dad where you really got that hat ya gave him for his birthday.”

Albert smirked, “I stole it from Oscar Delancey.”

“I know,” Race said, “That’s my point. We both pull a lot of shit and we both know about all the shit each other pulls. We have no ability to judge each other. So, what’s up?”

He was still hesitating, so Race sighed.

“Yes, I promise not to laugh. What is it?”

“What does it feel like when you’re with Spot?” Albert blurted.

Race was, honestly, kind of caught off guard.

“What?”

“I know ya like him,” Albert said pointedly, “Like that. I know ya have feelin’s for him. If ya didn’t, you wouldn’t be with him. I know you better than just about anyone, Race. That’s how I know how gone ya are for Conlon.”

This... wasn’t like Albert. Sure, he was known as the resident Causer of Chaos, but he was 100% serious, here. He was seriously asking about how Race felt about Spot.

This was especially weird considering... considering a while ago, Race had rejected Albert on the account that he didn’t feel that way about him. And even knowing it wouldn’t be fair to either of them if he pretended he did, it had made Race uncomfortable, knowing he’d caused his best friend pain.

Albert never asked about Spot. He knew they were a thing, kind of, but whenever they hung out, they both usually tried to pretend that romance didn’t exist, just talking about other things and daring each other to do dumb shit. That was their normal.

So why was he changing it now?

“I don’t see why that’s your business,” Race said at last, when he found his voice.

Albert groaned, “Oh, believe me. I don’t need details ‘bout... that. Just... why do ya like him? What does that part feel like?”

Race was super confused. Besides the fact that talking about this wasn’t their normal, it didn’t seem like jealousy. And yet it felt heavier than plain old gossip, too.

“Albie,” he said slowly, “What’s this about?”

Albert wouldn’t meet Race’s eyes as he took a deep breath, speaking quietly.

“I don’t know what love feels like. And you’s the only person who’s in love that I trust enough to talk ‘bout this.”

Race was now even more confused, but he focused on the part that he could understand.

“You don’t know what love feels like?”

Albert groaned, “It’s just... it’s stupid! My dad and my brothers was never real... touchy-feely... with me. I knows I care ‘bout them, even though they’s been real distant ever since I can remember, but that makes me confused, cause honestly I care ‘bout you, and Jack, and the others more. I’d die for all you’s, and I know family’s supposed to come first, but the fellas feel more like family than my real family, so... so I know how that feels.”

Race nodded, “Yeah. I get that. Just cause it ain’t the romantic type don’t mean that ain’t love, Albie.”

“But it’s different! I know ‘cause... ‘cause I remember what I felt for you.”

Race took a deep breath. The awkward tension rising right now was why they never talked about this.

“Well... yeah, it’s different. Bein’ sweet on someone ain’t like lovin’ ‘em like a sibling.”

“Yeah, but...” Albert made a frustrated sound, “There’s somethin’ else, too, and it’s like that, but different. And I don’t wanna call it love if it ain’t, but... I don’t know what it is.”

Oh. So that was why he was asking this.

God, Race was an idiot. He did miss a lot of gossip, spending his days in Brooklyn, but he would’ve thought he wouldn’t miss something as big as his best friend falling in love.

That was on him. He had a couple guesses as to who it was, but he should have been paying more attention to Albert these last couple months. He’d know for sure if he had.

“Spot’s...” he shrugged, “It’s like... I talk a lot, right?”

“Ain’t that the truth?”

“Shut up. With Spot, it’s like he gets it. Whatever I’m ramblin’ about, he knows what to say back. He can keep up with me, and sometimes, it’s like... I don’t have to ramble with him. Cause he already understands the point I’m tryin’ to make, even if I don’t understand it. And there’s somethin’ in how he don’t show his cards to anyone, but he shows ‘em to me. He drops his guard with me.”

Albert snorted, “What, so Spot Conlon ain’t actually the tough badass he pretends to be?”

“No, he’s definitely still a badass. But he’s got a soft side, too. Most outside of Brooklyn just don’t get to see it. That’s why it matters so much that I do. I can tell that he trusts me. And I can trust him, too.”

Albert stared at the floor for a couple seconds.

Then he huffed, “That don’t help at all.”

Race rolled his eyes, “Albie, ya ain’t gonna get a better explanation than that. It ain’t somethin’ that’s simple.”

Clearly, Albert had been hoping it was, but Race wasn’t sure if he could ask who it was his best friend was so messed up over, because it clearly wasn’t him anymore.

“How do ya know he loves ya back?”

Race froze, because to be honest...

He didn’t. He knew Spot cared, in his own guarded, careful way, but he wasn’t sure if it was as strong as what Race was feeling for him.

“Ya never really know,” he admitted, “Not unless he actually tells you.”

Albert took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking a bit as he did.

“I think I’m in love with Finch.”

“Oh my...” Race scoffed, “How did I not see that?”

“I didn’t let ya,” Albert pointed out, “And him and I... we ain’t... together, exactly. But we’s been gettin’ closer lately and... I think I love him, Race. I just don’t know.”

Race put his hand on his best friend’s shoulder, tugging him in for a hug that he didn’t seem to know what to do with.

“Albie, if ya think you love him, you owe it to yourself to find out for sure.”

“But ain’t that unfair to him if I don’t?”

“You said you weren’t sure if he loved ya back,” Race pointed out.

“Yeah, but...”

“Al, I know ya thought I didn’t notice, but you sulked for weeks after... what happened. You’s been happier lately, and now I’m thinkin’ that might be because of Finch. The fact that you’re more worried ‘bout you hurtin’ him than him hurtin’ you says a lot. I can’t say what you feel for sure, but for what it’s worth...”

Race squeezed him one more time, letting go, “I’m happy for you.”

Albert took another deep breath, “I’m happy for you, too.”

That meant a lot. Though Race would do what he wanted whether Albert approved or not, he definitely appreciated him saying he did.

“Seriously,” Albert said, shoving him in the shoulder, “I ain’t seen you as happy as ya are with Spot... well, ever. You never woulda found that with me. I’m happy ya did with him.”

“I don’t know if he feels the same,” Race admitted, “I mean, I know he cares, cause we’s been friends a long while, but...”

“Ya love him and you don’t know if he loves you back?”

Race nodded, “Yeah. Guess I deserve it, though, after what I did to you.”

“Hey. That was different. You made it clear you didn’t love me and refused to start anythin’ cause of that. If Spot doesn’t love ya, he’s been leadin’ ya on. Worse than that—he’s been usin’ ya.”

Race would be lying if he said that wasn’t something he worried about sometimes.

Well, he didn’t think Spot was the type to use someone like that, but...

What if this was just ‘friends with benefits’ to him? After all, it wasn’t like they’d ever actually talked about what they were. When they made out, it was all physical. They weren’t doing much talking during that. And when they did talk, it was always about other things. In front of other people, they were nothing more than friends.

Albert patted his knee, “Well, if he hurts ya, I’ll beat his ass.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“Then you’ll have to avenge me, and you stand even less of a chance than I do in a fight, and then we’ll both be dead. We can be ghosts together. We’ll haunt his ass.”

Race slapped his best friend in the arm, “Let’s go back to your problem. ‘Bout how you’re gonna get the boy.”

“But...” Albert sighed, “I barely know how I feel. How can I know what he feels?”

He was obviously stalling, but Race decided not to point that out just now. He threw an arm around his friend.

“Look. Albie. That’s a risk you’re gonna have to take. But for what it’s worth, you’s the bravest guy I know. Except maybe Jack. And Crutchie. And does Smalls count? She’s a girl, so I can’t say she’s the bravest guy, but—“

Albert shoved him, laughing, “Shut up.”

“But seriously, you’re willin’ to fight Spot Conlon for me and you’re scared of a little rejection? C’mon, Albie.”

“Oh, I will fight any kid in this city,” Albert declared, “Plenty of adults, too. Fightin’ ain’t a problem. It’s simple. Feelin’s are... messy.”

“Yeah, but you can do this, Al! You’s one of the bravest guys I know. And Finch? He’s queer, cute, and clearly cares ‘bout ya. I’ll admit I didn’t notice before, but thinkin’ back, I’d say he’s probably at least interested.”

Albert stood up, finally looking Race in the eye. He looked nervous, but ready.

“I’m gonna go get the boy.”

“Fuck yeah! Go get that boy!”

He looked like he was going to leave, then hesitated, “I should probably figure out what to say first.”

“No!” Race insisted, “You’ll just chicken out! Go! Go now, Al! Go get your boy!”

“He’s not my—“

“And he won’t be if ya don’t go get him!”

Race slapped his best friend in the butt to get him towards the door.

“Alright, I get it! God, Race! I’m goin’!”

“Well ya ain’t goin’ fast enough!”

He kept shoving until Albert was clear out the door and both of them were laughing.

“Go!” Race exclaimed one more time, shoving him away.

“Thanks so much for the one good piece of advice ya actually gave me!” Albert called sarcastically, “And Race?”

“Are you gonna go, or not?”

Albert put his hands up, “I’m goin’! Jeez! It’s just... if I’m tellin’ Finch, you should tell Spot. He’s King of Brooklyn, and... well, I even ain’t heard rumors of him bein’ with anyone else, so I don’t think you’d be as close to him as you are if he didn’t feel the same way.”

Race nodded, having no intention of actually following that advice, “Maybe. I’ll think on... does this mean we can talk ‘bout boys now?”

Albert rolled his eyes, “If this goes well, we can talk about whatever you want. If not, you’re buyin’ the booze.”

Race grinned, “Fair.”

Well, whatever way this went, it should be interesting.

[sherala007]

Creative non-fiction done for school

The Crucible of Youth

I felt the pile of carpet beneath my tummy, poking like pinpricks through my shirt as I lay across the living room floor, reading my book.  Mom sat nearby in her chair next to the window, the dull grey of the winter/spring changeover still in the sky.  She was working on her crocheting while watching the news on TV. I usually ignored the news.  It was always bad.  Tonight’s news was no different.  Tonight I couldn’t ignore it.  The words gang rape grabbed my attention quick making me forget my book. Mom even set down her work.

           It was March of 1983 and the reporter spoke about a woman who was raped by four men in Big Dan’s Tavern in New Bedford, MA, all for going in to buy a pack of cigarettes (Chapie). I watched the story, at first not fully understanding what was going on.  Then it started to click what rape meant.  I was heartbroken.  How could someone do that to another person? I didn't understand to the fullest extent what rape was yet but from the look on mom's face, I knew it was serious. I remember mom saying "She had to have done something to deserve it.  Nothing like that happens without a cause."

I looked up at mom as she dismissed the woman's pain and went back to her crocheting. The lack of concern or care on mom's face frightened me.  She'd always been so compassionate to those in need, kind and caring, but not demonstrative in showing physical affection.  This lack of concern wasn't like her at all.  It looked as if she was dismissing the rape as the woman's fault, absolving herself of the need to think on it anymore.  Her words chilled me and would come echoing back in my mind soon.

           July 4th! What a time to be a kid.  It was summer.  It was hot out.  It was time for swimming in the pool and running carefree.  We were at my sister Patty’s for a picnic.  There weren't a lot of kids, just me; my niece Sandy, who was the youngest; Kurt who was eleven, and his fifteen-year-old brother Dale. I'd just turned twelve a few months before and was already developing into a young woman.  Kurt had noticed.  All-day long he was my shadow.  He was big for his age, already almost a foot taller than me and I was only about four foot six.  His father owned his own construction company and Kurt and Dale worked with him on the weekends so both boys were very strong.

We'd been swimming most of the day, only getting out to eat.  We waited the required 30 minutes, then back into the pool. We'd exhausted all the games we could think of to play in the water.  We tested our breath holding limits; scrounged for items on the bottom as they were thrown in; and did as many laps as we could.  It was a round pool so laps were short and annoying.  I was pruney and bored.  I remembered I had a great book with me that I’d gotten into only yesterday and sitting out for a while sounded nice and relaxing.  I ducked underwater to swim to the ladder and felt something poke me in the bum.  Popping up quickly I saw Kurt pop up right next to me.

           “You two, knock that crap off!”  I heard my sister Patty yell from the top deck of the house.  She turned and carried another tray of food down to the picnic table at the bottom.  

           I got out of the pool, wrapped up in my towel, and headed to the table.  “I didn’t do anything, Patty.  I was only swimming.”

"You let a boy touch your butt.  Good girls don't do that."  She looked me in the eye, anger, and disgust on her face then turned and stormed off to join the other adults.  

           I’d felt like I was punched in the stomach.  I sat down on the bench, picked up a hotdog and started to nibble.  I was about to take another bite when Kurt walked up to me, grabbed it and scarfed it down.

           “Don’t worry about her. Let’s go for a walk.”  He threw his towel down on the bench and slid his flip flops on waiting for me.  Dale and Sandy liked the idea of a walk and wanted to join us.  Dale went over, asked permission, and was given instructions to take care of us girls and off we went.  We were only permitted to go up the road to the trail we used to ride our horses on.  We were still in our swimsuits, Sandy and me with towels wrapped around us, the boys in their shorts.

The trail wasn't a trail per se but a dirt road, rocky, twisty, and bumpy, but it was a change for us.  Being on the plump side, I wasn't as fast as the others.  I fell behind as we went up a hill and around a bend in the road, thick trees lining either side, houses scattered farther and farther apart. Kurt stayed with me and spotted an abandoned barn off the side of the road in someone’s back yard.  We stopped and looked to see if anyone was around. Sandy and Dale were out of sight as Kurt grabbed my hand, pulling me up the sloping gravel driveway, the small white rocks making for rough going, and around the corner of the barn to the door on the other side.

It was cooler inside.  I could smell the dampness of the mold and mildew all around me, mixed with the smell of roses and wildflowers from outside.  Some of the shabby barn boards looked worm-eaten, barely hanging on by the few remaining nails holding them in place.  There was dirt and dust everywhere, blown in through the cracks and crevices, or washed in through the large opening in the corner of the roof where part of it had fallen in.  In the far right corner, I could see a large spider web, its maker fat and creepy, perched on one of the outer edges.  I could see rusted out tools tossed about like unwanted toys, no longer needed or desired, littering the floor along one wall.

           I heard Kurt walking near the middle of the floor, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, as I entered watching for any critter that may try and come near me. Looking around at everything I'd lost track of where Kurt was for a moment.  He'd gotten quiet.  One second I was standing a few paces inside the doorway looking at how creepy everything was, the next I was on my back in the dirt on the floor, Kurt's left hand around my neck.

"Don't move," he said.  His hand was so large it wrapped halfway around my neck.  The look in his eyes was cold, freezing me in place as he held me down with that one hand, not tight enough to bruise, but enough so I couldn't risk moving.  I couldn't think, couldn't figure a way out of his grip.  Why was he doing this?  What did he want from me?  He used his right hand to free himself from his shorts and then to slide the panty half of my suit aside, digging himself inside me hard like a blunt shovel.  All I felt was pain, burning, and tearing.  I was trembling.  I wanted to scream but couldn't with his hand still on my throat.  His pig-like grunting and the slap of skin on skin echoed in my head.  I thought it was loud enough others would hear and come to help me.  No one came.

I was numb. I don't remember him finishing.  I don't remember how I got home.  I remember going right into the shower, cleaning up, and throwing my towel and bathing suit into the washer.  I don't even remember how I got the bleeding to stop. I just know it did.  Hours later I still couldn't remember any of the details of how I got home.  Any time I tried I would get sick to my stomach.  I do remember the thoughts that echoed in my head for the next twenty-five years.  Dirty.  Bad girl. I deserved it.  I’m worthless.  Those thoughts stay with me today, though they're not as loud as they used to be. They were the only thoughts I could hear for a long time, and they always echo in my mom’s voice.  This was just the first time I was raped.  It happened again four years later when I was sixteen and at another 4th of July gathering with my then-boyfriend. That time I was raped on top of a pile of refuse and debris in an old, dilapidated camper.

           What did I do to cause this to happen to me?  Why me?  Why did I deserve this?  It took a long time in therapy to discover a few things.  I didn’t do a DAMN THING to deserve this or cause it to happen to me. Why me?  I’m small.  I’m female. I’m seen as prey.  Men that rape are in search of a power rush.  They’re not in it for the sexual gratification.  They’re in it to hurt, humiliate, and degrade.  It's not about sex only power.  I just reach five foot two now.  Back then I was shorter and thinner than I am now.  Because of all this trauma, I gained a great deal of weight.

Imagine what this trauma does to a teen?  Adults usually think teens are dramatic.  I remember all the times my mom would tell me to stop being so dramatic when I was jumpy or had to have my back to a wall.  Most adults don't listen to teens or notice the signs of PTSD.  Teens are still developing their identities and personalities. Rape puts a deep and heavy scar on their psyche that they have to grow into and carry for the rest of their life. Teens may be young and still growing emotionally but they have the same feelings adults do and respond in similar ways. All the same side effects we suffer from rape, teens do, also.

Sixty-six percent of all victims of rape under the age of eighteen are between the ages of twelve and seventeen (Rainn).  Well, that statistic fits me both times.  I never used to be a jumpy person.  After the rape, I would jump at the drop of a hat.  I also dealt with bouts of depression.  There are days even now where I struggle to get out of bed to live a normal life doing normal things.  Those days are fewer and farther between.  The biggest issue I deal with now is when I’m working on a task and someone strolls up to me to ask a question and startles me.  They’re not even trying to be stealthy but I’m instantly in a fight or flight panic.  My heart races like I’ve run a marathon.  I hold my breath for a few seconds then I pant like I’m being choked again.  Now and again I’ll even start to tremble.  I can hide that sometimes but my close friends know when it’s happening.  I discovered that this is all part of PTSD (Rainn).

I discovered something terrifying while dealing with treatment as well as doing research; per the Center for Family Justice (CFJ) one in four women and one in six men are sexually abused (CFJ).  In eight out of ten cases the victim knows the attacker (CFJ).  There are three main after-effects of rape; depression, flashbacks, and PTSD (Rainn).  I've had to live most of my life with two out of the three' until now.  In rewriting this paper the third has started, but only a few times.  The smell of roses and mold triggered flashbacks as I was rewriting the barn scene. That lasted for about three weeks and has now stopped.  The saddest thing for me is it's been thirty-three years and these effects still happen.

           Did I ever tell my mother?  No.  The woman who raised me was actually my grandmother.  She adopted me from her oldest daughter when I was ten but had raised me since I was four months old.  She was born in 1933.  Things were so much different for her growing up so she still had the antiquated mindset for her generation.  By the time I was able to talk about it nothing could be done anyway so why stir things up?  I know it would have made her feel horrible and wouldn’t have solved anything.  

I will tell you, surviving rape has made me a very strong woman.  I didn't realize this until about five years ago:  I've lived through the worst that man can do to woman, short of murder.  I've not only survived but in the last few years, I've thrived.  I'm able to live on my own.  I make new friends all the time.  I can hold down a good job.  Do I still have some issues now and then?  Yes, but they’re infrequent now.  I’m too strong to let it keep me down anymore.  I’ve realized that, yes I have suffered horrible violence, but unlike others, I don’t have to let it define who I am.  I refuse to let it do so.  I choose to act and be seen as a woman who can stand on her own and who doesn’t need to hide behind anyone else.  I do understand when I’m out on my own I have to pay attention to my surroundings and be vigilant but I don’t have to be afraid of every shadow.  Yes, I used to hide behind the victim label I let others put on me, but not anymore.  I am alive and I will continue to embrace every day because I am worth it, not because someone else says so but simply because I’m here; alive, walking, talking, and breathing.

While I was working on one of the drafts of this article, a friend at work offered to read it and help me edit it.  I gave it to her on a Friday.  Monday morning she came up to me crying.  She couldn't read it.  She told me about how she was raped twenty years ago and still can't talk about it with anyone; not even her husband.  She can't have a deep, healthy relationship with him because of it.  She asked me how I can be so relaxed and open after all that. What was my secret?  Truth is, I don't have a secret.  I freely admit what happened to me when anyone asks why I get startled as I do.  I know now that I didn't do anything to ask for what happened to me.  It was not my fault.  It took a while for that to sink in but now that it has it's one of my mantras when those horrid thoughts get loud on me again; because they do sometimes. I remind myself that I am alive. I have hope.  I get up for work every morning.  I answer calls from customers needing help every day.  Some of them are not so nice about asking for it either. I work for a security company and every so often I get that call from that woman who went through that same experience.  I stop and listen.  I do what only a fellow survivor can do.  I give her hope too.

 Works Cited:

No Author, Sexual Assault Stats, Center for Family Justice.org, web, 6-27-16

Capie, Lindsay.  Big Dan’s Tavern Gang-Rape, New Bedford 1983, LindsayChapie.wordpress.com, web, 7-9-16

No Author, No Article, Statistics, Rainn.org, web, 6-27-16