#if he had longer hair i would love to see the pony swinging from side to side very gracefully

[bikebian]

all that talk abt how 2019 billiam is like stupid but this is also 1990 bill

[currentfications]

Ocean Eyes | Part 5

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: Friends visited you at your side hustle

Warning: Swearing, Alcohol, Flirting, Suggestive?

AN: I’m finally no longer (as) sick~ Please enjoy this chapter written definitely not when I’m delirious. Thank you all again for reading ^_^

Previous | Next

You pulled up to the club right around dusk, eyeing the still-empty streets. Soon the place would be crawling with party goers and drunken crowd, but for the time being, a moment of calm before the storm. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” the manager of the AMON welcomed you in warmly. “We didn’t even know who was able to fill in until you called. I was worried I’ll have to let my nephew sub in…” the man in suit and sleeked back hair trailed off as he darted his eyes towards one of the bartender, who looked suspiciously like he’s been drinking the stock.

You chuckled, “thanks for giving me the stage, I’ve been cooped up the the studio for too long - it’s good to get some fresh air.” Tying your hair up into a low pony tail, you unpacked your mixer and hooked your equipment onto the speakers skilfully while the manager frantically updated their DJ roster of the night on their social media. Noticing the frantic scramble, you squatted down to the manager beneath and sighed, “relax mate, it’s a Friday night.” You’re not sure if he’s just naturally skittish or was it because of the last minute changes. Nevertheless, you comforted the man who looks like he’s on the brink of tears, “I got the jams, you got the juice. It’ll be lit.”

Turning a few dials, you started the night off with some 90’s R&B, the swinging jams served as your inauguration into South Korean music scene. You took a quick selfie to commemorate the moment, tagging the anxiety ridden manager behind you and the club with in a short caption.

“Any drinks?” The manager quickly stopped by for one last check before the rush begun.

You nodded, “do you have Maraschino cherries? Two jars of those.” He gave you a funny look for the unconventional request, but needed the sugar - plus it’s not like you were going to accept alcohol or opened drinks from strangers in an unfamiliar setting. You thanked him as you accepted the two jars, checking that the seal was intact before popping a couple into your mouth.

Throughout the next few hours, you subtly increased the amount of bass and energy to your song mixes as more patrons flooded in. A few regulars have noticed that you’re not the intended DJ of the night, but we’re all pleasantly surprised by your set list, thoroughly enjoying themselves as the music and booze flows through them.

“Y/N I LOVE YOUUUUU!!” An excited scream pierced through the roaring party-goers, you lifted your protective ear muffs to see Latrice and a few other familiar faces in the crowd. You excitedly waved back, texting her the time for when your set finishes. She nodded and flashed two thumbs up at you, before turning and leading a small horde behind her towards the bar. You squinted to get a better look at the group, but the flashing lights (and your lack of glasses) proved the task to be difficult.

You tucked a lose strand of blue hair behind your ears, returning your focus to the last hour of your set. Feeding off the crowd’s energy and getting a grasp of the general population’s music taste, the drunken party-goers were all a little disappointed when you eventually handed over to the next DJ.

Leaving the bulk of your equipment on the stage, you pulled off your bulky sweatpants, leaving a minidress behind (a very handy life hack you learned from Ling: spaghetti strapped minidresses works great under sweatpants as a tank-top-when-working and skimpy-when-partying combo). Quickly reapplying a deep marron lipstick and smudging your eyeliner, you hopped off the stage to join the girls.

“Hey mama,” you tapped your best friend at her shoulder, “thank you for coming.”

Latrice snickered and handed you a drink, “of course I had to be here for your DJ virginity in Korea! It’s monumental.” The brunette paused for a moment and waited for you to take a few more sips before opening her mouth again, “there are a few others here, be nice.”

You nodded, curious to know who tagged along. Squinting at the faces, you started to regret that whole ‘you don’t need to see music to hear music’ logic you had when you decided to not put your contacts in earlier today.

Ling, ever the party animal, was the first to jumped into your arms. “God you look a-mazing,” she chirped, “that was a such a good set!”

You spotted the rest of the Jam Republic members and waved at them over the loud music, before landing your eyes on an all too familiar dancer.

“Hey lovely,” you greeted, leaning towards her over the thumping beat. “New hair colour?” Noticing her now grey streaks, you instinctively reached out to ruffle her hair a little. She’s dressed in her usual street wear attire, an oversized hoodie and a light washed jeans effortlessly bringing out her undeniable charisma.

Bada nodded, her mouth gaping slightly open noticing what you were wearing up close. Ling’s words don’t even begin to justify the sight of you. The little laced minidress hugged your figure, a few dozens of inked work decorating your legs and thighs; as you towered over her, she accidentally glanced down your bosom before quickly looked away, finding interest in the bottom of her drink.

Flirting in a loud environment is generally not your thing, but as you were about to attempt, another dancer caught your eyes and your face dropped. Bada chuckled as Latrice immediately stepped between you and the Mannequeen member.

“We are going dancing,” Latrice lead you away by the shoulder. “I haven’t seen you in forever since they handed you the keys,” the brunette complained as she pulled you towards the dance floor.

“And who’s fault was it?” You taunted, glaring at the direction of said fault, earning an eye roll from your friend.

“I said to be nice, didn’t I?” Latrice snickered, reminding you to act civil.

You rolled your eyes right back at her, mirroring the childish behaviour. “I was wondering why you needed me to be nice with Kirsten and Ling.”

Latrice laughed and finished her drink, you quickly finishing up yours to join her dancing. You’re of course no match to the professional dancer, however as a frequent member to the Latin clubs and an occasional Barcadi dancer, you can still hold your own in a club setting (and especially when substances are involved).

Tonight was an eventful night for Bada, as she watched your set for the first time, gawked at you in that skimpy little dress, and now shocked by the way you’re shaking ass and grinding up against Latrice. A odd feeling stirred up in her, and she couldn’t quite distinct if it was intoxication or jealousy.

Noticing the tall dancer’s lingering stare, Redlic inched closer towards the choreographer and proposed a strategy. “I say we both go get our girl back,” the shorter dancer suggested, her eyeing the brunette with the wide smile.

“I’m in,” Bada nodded with resolve, not liking the sinking feeling in her guts.

Taking a deep breath, Redlic took the lead and swooped in for the Queenslander. “Baby can we have this dance?” The platinum blonde dancer poured, batting her eyelashes at a beaming Latrice.

You feigned gagged at the sight, gently shoving Latrice towards her date, jokingly mouthing ‘traitor’ as they walked away.

“Can I have this dance?” Bada asked from behind you.

A smile tugged on the corner on your lips as you turned around, “collaborators, you two.”

Bada mockingly acted shock as she told you “Your accusation would have repercussions,” before challenging you to a dance off.

You took her hands and placed them around your neck before you lean forward to whisper in her ears, “challenge accepted.” You looked down at her in the flashing club lightning, and you could’ve swear you saw her flushing red. Chuckling at the effect you had on the famous choreographer, you teasingly wiggled your hips at her to the best of the music.

She bit her flushed lips unconsciously, gulping hard as she look at at you through her long lashes. When you did that little twerk, the devil on Bada’s shoulder won and she gently tugged on the nape of your hair with a firm grip. Your eyes widen in surprise as a mischievous smile took over Bada’s plump lips.

Bada’s face was inches away from your neck, and you can feel her warm breath on you as her breathing quickened. You locked gaze with the dancer as you wrapped your arms around her back. For a moment there the pounding music faded away, as you two contemplated if it was the lust or alcohol pulsing through your veins.

The tightening of her grip around your neck was a sign for you - as your grip on her hips was for her. You closed the distance between the two of you, and your lips met in a flurry of drunken daze and thirst-filled trance. Her lips supple as yours soft, you both eagerly indulged in the heated kiss. You felt a smirk forming on her lips before she muttered, “toilet?”

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily @lil-elliesgf @rubywonu @wiselight

[talkfastromance4]

fun day with uncles//Luke&Lily special feat Ashton and Calum

a/n: I want to expand on the relationships the girls have with their uncles (and soon Oliver and Michael) so I hope you enjoy!

word count: 2.1 k

warnings: none, just fun and fluff with our girls and Cashton :)

Luke&Lily Masterlist

Enjoy!

***

You and Luke were going to the doctor’s office for Oliver’s routine check-ups and Calum and Ashton offered to take the girls out for a day. Lily and Posy were talking nonstop about it during breakfast asking where they were going and what they were going to do.

“Will Duke be with us?” Lily asks while you’re styling her hair in her room. Luke has Posy in her room getting her dressed and Oliver is in his swing sucking on his fingers.

“I don’t know, honey. I guess we’ll see when they come pick you up,” you kiss her head watching her pull on her socks. 

That was the one request Ashton and Calum had for you and Luke; the girls had to wear shoes and socks. You had packed sunscreen, goldfish crackers, and some extra pull-ups for Posy in case she had an accident. She’s been doing really well going potty on the toilet but accidents happen. You packed an extra outfit and sweaters just in case and placed them in one of Luke’s backpacks. 

You figured Ashton and Calum wouldn’t want to carry around the baby bag that you have.

“I ready! Let’s go!” Posy announces skidding to a stop in Lily’s doorway. 

“Uncle Ash and Uncle Cal aren’t here yet, bug,” Luke laughs poking at her cheeks from behind. 

The girls busied themselves with their toys as you and Luke made sure you had everything you needed for Oliver. Then there was a knock on the door followed by Petunia barking and the girls screaming in excitement running down the hall. 

When it opens, Posy rushes to Ashton’s legs and Lily grabs hold of Calum’s hands pulling him inside the house.

“Hey, hey, let them get in the door,” Luke laughs entering the living room behind you. 

Oliver woke up from the loud noises and you scooped him up into your arms, rocking him slightly until he calmed down. 

“I want to be greeted like this everywhere I go,” Calum laughs, lifting Lily in his arms. “Are you ready for a day of fun, Lils?”

“Yes! Where are we going?” Lily asks. 

“Up, up, up Unca Ash!” Posy is trying to climb her way up Ashton’s legs. He picks her up easily as well and pokes her nose.

“Hi little one,” he grins then turns to Lily. “It’s a surprise, but there’s rides, animals, and yummy food.”

You and Luke exchange a look. Rides?

“What kind of rides?” Luke asks, his eyes moving to Lily who’s always been the most cautious with certain things. 

“A carousel and pony rides,” Calum eases. 

“Ponies?” Lily’s eyes widened. 

“Do not let them out of your sight,” Luke warns, lifting the backpack you packed and handing it to Ashton.

“We won’t. How long do you think you’ll be at the doctor’s?” Ashton asks. Calum moves forward towards you and gazes lovingly at Oliver. 

“No idea. They’ll probably check his oxygen levels, weigh him, take some blood...a few hours at least,” you respond. “I packed extra clothes and some snacks for them.”

“We’ll be back before dinnertime,” Ashton informs. “You girls ready to go?” 

“Bye mama! Bye Daddy!” Posy waves. 

“Have fun and listen to your uncles, okay?” you tell them. “And hold their hands.”

“We will mama. Bye Olly!” Calum sets her back on the ground and she touches Oliver’s arm softly. 

***

Ashton carries Posy along the grounds of where the circus is in town. There’s a train painted in bright colors with animals drawn all over it and clowns are walking around. Lily is holding onto Calum’s hand taking in all of the sights around her. 

“Where should we go first?” Ashton asks, looking at the booths of face painting, jewelry, t-shirts, concessions, and games with colorful stuffed animals. 

“Let’s just start on one end and work our way around,” Calum shrugs.

And so they did. First, they ordered a large lemonade that was shared amongst the four of them and looked at the animals. Lily and Posy wanted to feed them so Calum bought the food from a machine that usually holds pieces of gum. He took photos and videos of the girls laughing at the tickling sensation from the goats’ whiskers. 

“Goats are pretty cute,” Ashton muses, scratching one on the head. 

“No way are you going to get a goat,” Calum shakes his head. 

“I want a goat!” Posy claps her hands. 

“Ask your daddy that, little one,” Ashton giggles. 

They wash their hands and look at the rest of the animals for a bit longer until Posy whispers something in Ashton’s ear. 

“She needs to use the potty,” Ashton tells Calum with wide eyes. 

“Oh, okay. Uhh…” Calum looks around but all he sees are portable ones. “Looks like those are our best option.”

“Those are disgusting,” Ashton crinkles his nose. “There has to be an actual bathroom somewhere. Let’s ask someone.”

Calum and Lily follow him to a worker and shockingly enough, there is an actual bathroom building but it’s way in the back.

“Can you hold it until we’re at the bathrooms, little one?” Ashton asks, already walking towards the back at a brisk pace. Calum and Lily follow. 

They push through the crowds of people muttering their apologies. At long last, they’re in front of the building and thankfully see a door that’s labeled as ‘family’ restroom. 

“Here we go,” Ashton says and Calum stops him.

“Do you even know what to do?”

“I’m not dumb, it can’t be that hard. Have some faith, man,” Ashton shakes his head and moves into the restroom. 

Calum looks down at Lily who gives him a nervous smile. 

“Do you think Uncle Ash will drop her in the toilet?” Calum asks and she giggles.

“I hope not. Dada always sings when she’s on the potty to help.”

Calum looks to the restroom door and approaches it. He knocks lightly.

“Occupied!”

“It’s me!” Calum shouts. “Lily says Luke sings to her to help her go.”

“Sings what?” 

Calum looks down at Lily.

“Wheels on the bus.”

“Wheels on the bus!” Calum shouts.

“Got it! Thanks!”

Calum notices a bench against the wall and he pulls Lily onto his lap.

“You’re such a great big sister, you know that? You remind me of my big sister,” he says then realizes Mali hasn’t officially met the girls or Oliver. 

“Who?”

“My big sister, Mali.”

“Mama showed me Mali! She sings pretty.”

“Yeah, she does,” Calum grins, “she’d love to meet you someday. I’ll see if she can come visit me soon.”

“Can we ride the ponies next?” Lily asks and Ashton comes out with Posy with a triumphant smile. 

“Did it all go well, then?” Calum asks.

“She did such a good job,” Ashton praises and Posy is grinning like he is. “Your mama and daddy are going to be so proud of you, Posy.”

“Way to go Posy!” Calum and Lily clap their hands. “Lils wants to go on the pony rides next.”

“Then let’s go see some ponies!” 

Calum and Ashton were able to walk alongside the ponies to make sure the girls didn’t fall off. There was a strap that could be secured around their waists. Calum held onto Lily who kept petting at the pony’s mane and neck as he strutted around the circle.

Ashton was speaking in a southern accent trying to sound like a cowboy and Posy was laughing the whole ride. 

After the ponies, they had lunch which consisted of a slice of pizza and some fruit that was sold as a side. Games were next and Posy loved watching Ashton do the hammer one to test his strength. Her peels of laughter encouraged him to keep trying until he finally hit the bell at the top. 

He asked Posy which toy she wanted as a prize and chose a purple looking monster with orange teeth and green hair. Lily looked at it apprehensively so Calum towed her along to the water games. She had a good shot with the water guns being aimed at the spinning target as it ascended up the pole, but she didn’t beat the buzzer. 

“It’s okay Lils, let’s try this one over here.”

They walk over to the ping pong toss over small fish bowls while Ashton and Posy are throwing balls at glass bottles. Calum buys a bucketful of ping pongs and tries to help Lily with her throws. He loves how dainty she holds the white ball in her hand and she sticks her tongue out in concentration. One of her eyebrows quirks up and she looks so much like Y/N when she does it it throws Calum for a loop. 

“Try not to aim for one certain one,” Calum says. “Just throw it and I’m sure you’ll make one in.”

“Okay…” Lily tosses a ball.

She and Calum watch it in slow motion as it hits one bowl then falls into the one next to it. Lily lets out a scream and Calum whoops in excitement as the attendant shouts out “WINNER TO THE LITTLE GIRL IN PINK!”

“I won! Unca Cal I won!” she jumps up and down clutching Calum's fingers.

“Way to go, Lils!” He congratulates and Ashton and Posy come by.

“What’s going on?” Ashton asks just as the attendant comes forward with a bag of water and a small pink fish. 

“Lily won a fish,” Calum explains proudly and takes the bag. 

“No way! Lily, that’s awesome!”

“I thought she’d like this pink one,” the attendant smiles.

“She loves pink, thank you,” Calum grins and bends down to Lily’s height. “What do you think, Lils?”

“He’s pretty,” she smiles, poking the bag lightly where the small fish is poking in the corner. “Will mama let me keep him?”

“I don’t see why not, you don’t have to walk them.”

“I love him. His name is Bruno.”

“That’s the perfect name,” Calum grins.

“Po, look at my fish.”

Posy scrambles down from Ashton’s arms and presses her nose to the bag. 

“He’s tiny!” Posy crinkles her nose. 

The rest of the day Calum carried Bruno and Lily would check on him periodically. Posy started to get fussy and they ended the day at the pet store to get some supplies for Bruno. The clerk informed them that Bruno was a male betta fish and about 6 months old. 

Calum bought a small tank with gray stones and a lily pad for the fish to sleep on; Lily loved knowing that bit of information that betta fish like to nestle. He bought food and some colorful fake plants. 

Ashton stayed with Posy in the car because she fell asleep on the ride to the pet store. 

“He won’t...die right away will he?” Calum asks nervously as Lily inspects some more water accessories. 

“No, as long as you feed him and change the water periodically he should live for about four years.”

“Four?”

“That’s the average lifespan of betta’s. He’ll be a good starter fish for her if she wants to get another one. When the time comes.”

Calum feels saddened by that because he doesn’t want Lily to be sad when the fish will die. But she’s so enamored by him there’s no way he’ll tell her any of this. 

He’ll just tell Luke.

***

“Mama! Look what I got!” Lily runs through the door with Bruno in his bag. She stops in the kitchen where you’re making dinner, Oliver is held against you in the wrap around your body. “I won him! His name is Bruno and Uncle Cal got him a nice home and some food!”

“He did? Wow, he’s so pretty sweetie,” you smile looking at the pink fish. 

“What’s with all the noise, is there a circus in town?” Luke asks, coming up from the stairs. “Hey bug, are you still sleepy?” He takes Posy from Ashton’s arms, Posy rests her head in Luke’s neck. 

“Look dada! I got a fish!” Lily spins around and shows Luke Bruno.

“Oh wow, and he’s pink! Did you have fun at the circus?”

“Yeah, Po used the potty and won a monster. We had lemonade and pizza and cotton candy. Can Uncle Cal help me with Bruno’s tank?” Lily looks up at you and Luke.

“Absolutely. Thanks for buying everything Uncle Cal,” you smile at him and Lily runs to her room. Luke follows to put Posy down to finish her nap and Ashton crashes on the couch sighing heavily. “Busy day, huh?”

“I don’t know how you and Luke do it,” Calum shakes his head. “And now with three? You’re super human.”

“I’m just a mom.”

“You’re the best mom, lovie,” Luke reappears with a smile. “I take it you two are staying for dinner? Need us to bathe you and tuck you into bed as well?”

“The only one I’ll let bathe me is Y/N,” Ashton sighs, closing his eyes and you laugh loudly.

“Sorry mate, she’s all mine,” Luke gives you a kiss on the cheek and Calum goes to Lily’s room. “Can’t wait to spend the weekend with you, soon.”

Taglist: @calumance​  @in-superbloom​ @calpalirwin​ @karajaynetoday​ @wiiildflowerrr @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie​ @suchalonelysunflower​ @hoodhoran​ @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt​ @sunshineeashton​ @ashtonsunflower​​ @mymindwide​​ @itjustkindahappenedreally​ @seanna313​ @fivesecondsofonedirection​

Luke&Lily: @prentisswrites​

[ironwhumper359]

14

“Just a short little prompt fill” I said to myself. “Something to work on in my downtime between longer fics.” Oops I made a whole au and I’m attached to it now, lol. 

14: “Good news! I brought you a friend.” 

CW: Pet whump, creature whump, fantasy au, restraints, referenced conditioning, child whumper

---

“More tea, Daisy?” Matilda asked, holding up her porcelain teapot. Daisy eyed her for a moment, and Matilda giggled. “You can answer, silly!” 

“Yes please, Lady Matilda,” Daisy said immediately. 

“Here you go!” Matilda said, tipping the pot forward to mime pouring. “One lump of sugar or two?” 

“Two please, my lady,” Daisy said, and Matilda nodded primly, picking up a small set of tongs. 

She mimed dropping two lumps of sugar into Daisy’s cup, then one into her own. She put the cup to her lips and pretended to drink, grinning when Daisy did the same. 

“I have to say, Daisy, your wings are looking particularly ex-quis-ite today!” Matilda chirped, slowly sounding out the larger word she’d often heard her mother use at grown-up garden parties. “I love how the light catches them just so!” 

An expression Matilda couldn’t quite read flashed through her fairy’s eyes for a moment, but before she could figure it out Daisy’s smile was back, wider and brighter than before. 

“Thank you, Lady Matilda.”

“You’re welcome!” Matilda said cheerfully, swinging her legs a bit as she pretended to take another sip of tea. “Oooh, ooh, guess what!” 

“What is it, Lady Matilda?” Daisy barely had time to ask before Matilda launched into her story. Mother often said she talked too much for polite conversation, but that was part of what was fun about playing with Daisy, Matilda didn’t need to be polite!

“Father will be coming home today!” she said, clapping her hands. “And that means I’ll get a present! He always brings me a present when he comes home from trips, and I hope it’s something really nice, he’s been gone for so long this time…what do you think he’ll bring me? Maybe a new dress, or a box of sweets...do you think he’ll bring something for you, too Daisy? Oh I’d like that, maybe a new satin cushion for your cage, or a set of gold combs for me to put in your hair, wouldn’t that just look so beautiful with your leash and collar?” 

“Matilda!” her mother called sharply, interrupting Matilda’s musing about her presents. “Time to put your toys away now, your father will be home soon.” 

“Aww, but Mother-” 

“I won’t tell you twice, Matilda,” her mother warned, and Matilda sighed. 

“Fiiiine.” 

She got to her feet and quickly scooped up the dolls and teddy bears she had set around the table to make up the rest of the tea party’s guests. She dropped them into her toy chest, then walked back to where Daisy was sitting, unhooking her leash from the brass loop on the side of the table. 

“Come on, Daisy,” Matilda said, tugging on the leash, and Daisy quickly scrambled to her feet. When Matilda had first gotten her last year, Daisy had stood a few inches taller than her, but Matilda had grown a bit since her eighth birthday, and now she was about the same height as her pet. 

Matilda led Daisy to her cage, which took up the entire corner of the playhouse. Her father had ordered it to be custom made just for Daisy, and it reminded Matilda of a bigger version of the parrot cage she’d once seen at a party at her cousin’s estate. Daisy slipped inside, waiting patiently by the door as Matilda made sure the lock was secure before reaching through the bars to unclip the leash from the shiny golden collar she wore around her neck. She hung the leash on a hook on the cage door, then grinned, waving at her pet.

“Bye Daisy!” she said. “I’ll come visit you again after supper, alright?” 

She skipped out into the garden, where her mother was waiting to close the playhouse door behind her. 

“Did you remember to lock the cage, dear?” Mother asked, and Matilda rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, Mother.”  

“Good. Now, come with me. Your father will be home any minute, and he has a surprise for you.”

A grin stretched across Matilda’s face. She couldn’t wait to find out what it was! 

--- 

Matilda was not an unkind little girl. She was sweet, polite, and as far as Lorrella could tell, never hurt anybody on purpose. 

This, of course, did little to soothe the chafed skin beneath Lorrella’s collar or the ache for freedom in her heart. 

Matilda did not seem to realize that her beloved fairy was a prisoner in the opulent playhouse her father had built her on the grounds of their family manor. She never registered Lorrella’s discomfort, though that was mostly because Lorrella took great pains to hide it from her. Matilda was bound to become upset if her pet wasn’t acting happy, after all. 

And rule number one was Don’t upset Matilda. 

So Lorrella couldn’t really blame the girl for not realizing when she was uncomfortable, but Matilda still didn’t seem to think twice about leading her around on a leash like a dog or locking her in a six by six foot cage whenever they weren’t “playing together.” She certainly hadn’t been interested in learning Lorrella’s real name, content instead to dub her “Daisy” because it sounded pretty.  

Daisy was a dress up doll, a hair model, an audience for impromptu storytimes and a companion for tea parties and garden outings. Whatever Matilda wanted for as long as she wanted, that’s what Daisy had to be. Lorrella was allowed to exist only in these quiet moments when Matilda left her here alone; when nothing was wanted of her and she could whisper her name into the empty room so that she would not forget it. 

The most frightening thing was that while Lorrella longed for such a reprieve when she was with Matilda, whenever she was alone, she’d begun to find herself wishing for the girl’s company. Lorrella was nobody, did nothing, belonged nowhere when Matilda was gone. Daisy, at least, had something to do, had something to be, even if that something was little more than an object to be shaped and molded by someone else. 

Daisy belonged to Matilda, but Daisy had a purpose. Lorrella belonged to no one, but her life had ceased to have meaning altogether. 

The door to the playhouse suddenly burst open and Lorrella jumped in surprise as Matilda darted into the room.

“Daisy!” she cried, running up to the cage and grinning from ear to ear. “Good news! Father brought you a friend!” 

Lorrella blinked and tilted her head, a silent question. Matilda reached through the bars and patted her on the head, then grabbed her collar and pulled. Lorrella suppressed a wince at the sudden jerk of movement and leaned forward so that Matilda could clip the leash on. 

“Come on, come on, you have to see it!” Matilda said.  As soon as she had Lorrella out of the cage, she dashed out of the room, and Lorrella had no choice but to follow as quickly as she could. 

Matilda hurried through the grounds and Lorrella stumbled after her, biting back a yelp every time Matilda ran too fast or turned too suddenly for her to keep up. Her neck was already growing sore, and she’d tumbled over enough times that her knees would be bound to have an angry smattering of fresh bruises by morning. She desperately wanted to call out for Matilda to slow down, but she held her tongue. 

Rule number two was Never speak unless spoken to. 

Matilda finally skidded to a halt outside the family stables, and Lorrella let herself fall to her knees beside her, gasping for air. 

“Father!” Matilda called, knocking on the stable door. “I brought Daisy to come see it too! Can we come in?” 

Lorrella stared at Matilda incredulously. All this fuss just to meet a new pony?

Matilda’s father appeared at the door, and Lorrella shrank back, casting her eyes downward. 

“Yes, my dear,” he said. “But you must remember to move slowly, alright? It is still quite wild, and not used to people yet.” 

Matilda nodded solemnly, and her father opened the door wide, allowing her to pull Lorrella inside. They passed through most of the stable and Matilda occasionally paused to wave at a favorite horse, but they didn’t stop moving until they reached the end of the row of stalls. The stall at the back was open, and as they approached, Lorrella could hear the stable hands muttering to each other.  

“Shit! Hold the damn thing still, will you? I can’t buckle these straps tight enough when it’s squirming so much!” 

“I will thank you,” Matilda’s father said coldly,” to not swear in front of my daughter.” 

The two snapped to attention instantly, twin looks of apology on their faces. 

“Yes, Lord Tracey, sorry Lord Tracey,” said the one who’d cursed, ducking his head.

“Can I show Daisy now?” Matilda asked, and her fathers face softened as he looked down at her.

“Of course, my dear. The creature is secure?” he added to the stablehands, and they nodded quickly.

“Yes, my lord. Took a fair bit of wrangling, but it shouldn’t be a problem now.” 

They stepped aside, revealing the animal in the stall, and Lorrella was unable to stop herself from gasping. She froze, glancing up at Lord Tracey, but he only had eyes for Matilda, who was staring at the creature with a wide grin 

It was not, as Lorrella had first assumed, simply a new pony; it was a centaur. Their upper body was wrapped up tightly in a harness that forced its arms behind its back, and their face was partially covered by a bitted bridle, the lead of which was tied to a hook on the wall. 

Lorrella had never seen a centaur before, and she was no expert on horses either, but even she could see that the creature was only a child. Judging by the face alone, one not much older than Matilda herself, or at least whatever the centaur equivalent was to eight years old. The poor thing was clearly terrified, too; they were trembling slightly and pawing at the ground with one of their front hooves.

“Daisy, this is Coco!” Matilda said happily. “Coco, this is Daisy! The two of you are gonna be the best of friends, I know it! What do you think, Daisy, isn’t she just the greatest present you ever saw?” 

The centaur flinched when Matilda spoke, and Lorrella glanced back at Lord Tracey, who was watching the whole exchange with what on the surface looked like a bored expression. She swallowed, and shot the centaur what she hoped was an apologetic look before answering. 

“Yes, Lady Matilda,” she said quietly. “She’s perfect for you.”

[dameronology]

to make a house a home {agent whiskey}

summary: just a soft weekend away in kentucky w/ our fave cowboy {for @zazzysseoul - thank u so much for ur support and i hope you enjoy!}

warnings: i think one or two swear words? but nothing else!

enjoy,

- jazz

Jack Daniels was good at reading people.

It was part of his job. He had to be observant, had to have a working understanding of body language and non-verbal signals. He was especially diligent about it when it came to you; it wasn’t a purposeful thing, but rather an instinct to keep an eye on the person he loved most in the world. He could read you like a book and some days, it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and maybe he did. There was really no telling with Jack. Every time you finally thought you had experienced every little quirk and trait he had to offer, he managed to pull something out the bag. Whether it was his ability to predict a bad mood before it happened or the way he remembered every tiny little detail of a conversation, he was constantly proving himself to be one hell of a partner.

It was no surprise; Jack thought you deserved the best and so, that’s what he tried to give you. He didn’t often let people into his life, especially not after so much loss, but from the moment you’d met, he knew he could trust you. He’d always been a brilliant judge of character and he’d been completely right about you. You’d turned his entire world upside down; taught him how to love again and reminded him that the things he’d lost could be found again, just with a little care and patience. The empty house he used to come to was filled with love and laughter and little marks of you and him; photos from your various trips, magnets on the fridge, that he brought home from all the countries his job took him to, the little notes you left on his nightstand when you had to slip out for work before he rose. The first time Jack had come through the front door and almost tripped over your shoes, he’d cried - not out of anger or shock, but at the realisation that he was no longer alone. 

Jack had the innate desire to look after you. He knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t mean that you had to. You’d been there for him in every sense of the world, and he wanted to do the same, to make sure that you felt appreciated every second of every day. In his mind, if you ever questioned his love or loyalty, then he wasn’t doing his job right. That desire translated into little things, rather than grand displays of affection; he’d do your laundry when you worked late, sent you sweet texts through out the day and brought you flowers just because. It wasn’t uncommon to find that Jack had filled up your car with gas without asking, or to come home to your favourite take out. 

His biggest way, however, was in how well he knew you. Every slight change in demeanour and every variation in the tone of your voice was caught by him; he knew when you were okay, and he knew when you weren’t. He could tell when you were half-way between, and he’d do his best to bring you back to the lighter side. You take comfort in the fact he always had your back, no ifs or buts. 

When Jack woke up early one morning to find your side of the bed empty, he immediately knew that was something was up; the second his palm reached out for you, only to be met with a fistful of cold sheets, he knew. You never got out of bed early. There could have been an atomic war happening outside and you still would have refused to move, insisting on five more minutes before nuclear winter hit. The bathroom light was off and there wasn’t anything you could have found in the kitchen. After all, you’d only arrived at the ranch a few hours earlier. You were both tired from a few long weeks at work and escaping the suffocating fog of the city for the rolling hills and fresh air of Kentucky felt like heaven. 

Jack sat up, pausing for a moment. There was a gentle creek coming from somewhere; it was steady and rhythmic, ringing from the porch. His shoulder slumped wit relief - you were outside on the porch swing. At 6AM on a cold, winter’s morning. The relief was shorting lived. 

Pulling on his robe, Jack rubbed his eyes and headed out towards the porch. Sure enough, you were the first thing he saw, shoulders covered by the plaid shirt he’d worn the previous day and fluffy socks gently brushing against the floor with the movement of the swing. The light above you illuminated you in a soft smoulder, a golden glow cast over you, illuminating your tired eyes and disheveled hair. He would have lectured you about the cold, had you not had a knitted blanket around you. 

‘Bit early for you, ain’t it?’ Jack leant against the door frame, gently smiling when your eyes met. 

‘What’s early when you haven’t slept yet?’ You aimlessly joked. 

Lifting up the blanket, you silently gestured for him to come and sit next to you. Jack obliged, dropping down beside you and winding a large arm around your shoulder. He pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss on your temple. His warm body was a welcome feeling against the cold of the January air. 

‘What’s keeping you up?’ He softly coaxed. 

‘I don’t know, to be honest.’ You replied. ‘It’s just been a long week.’

‘I get that.’ His voice was slightly murmured. He pulled you even closer, chin resting on your head. ‘But we’re here now, sugar. I think we both need the down time.’

‘Definitely.’ You said. ‘Plus, the view isn’t so bad.’

The ranch overlooked a large field filled with cows and horses; it stretched out for miles, fading away into the distance into a seemingly endless close. The edges of the green pasture were tinged with the pink of a tonic sun rise, pushing away the dark of the night sky. It wasn’t often that you got to watch the sun come up, and it felt a little refreshing to see a new day come. It was fresh; a clean slate, young and naive, but full of possibility. An ironic thought, given that you and Jack were probably going to lay on the sofa the whole day and order take out. 

‘You’re right.’ He murmured from beside you.

‘Are you doing that thing where you look at me when I’m talking about a nice view?’ You peered up at him, thinning your eyes. 

‘You said it was romantic!’

‘The first five times, Jack!’ You chuckled, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw.

‘Nothing is sacred anymore.’

You settled back against his chest with a smile. ‘I like it here.’

‘Me too.’ He agreed. ‘It’s nice to get away from the Apple. Everything over there if faster than a knife fight in a damn phone booth.’

‘And it doesn’t smell of pizza and...pee.’

You loved New York dearly; it had been your home for many years, and it was also where you’d met Jack. But, whether it was your permanent home, you didn’t know. There were some days when it all got so much. The city never quietened down and you could never quite escape it, even in the comfort of your own apartment. Out here, you were worlds away from that. Crickets were gently purring in the distance, and the only other sound came from the rustling of the animals in the field across the road. It was peaceful. Serene. 

‘What if we moved out here when I’m done at the Statesman?’ Jack posed, almost as though he were shy about broaching the subject. ‘We could get a couple horses. Maybe a dog. Heck, if you want a zoo, I’ll get you a zoo.’

‘I’d like that.’ You smiled. ‘I mean living here, not the zoo thing - but a dog and horses sounds nice.’

‘Then a dog and horses we shall get.’ He grinned. ‘Oh! I can teach you to ride.’

‘Or I could just watch you do it.’

‘There’s not a single person in this here town who can’t ride a horse.’ Jack said. ‘Unless a pony would be better.’

‘Why not both? We have enough room.’ You reminded him. ‘Maybe we can re-tile the kitchen too. It’s not that I don’t like the green, it’s just it’s...’

‘...dreadful?’

‘That’s a nice way of putting it.’

Because you didn’t live on the ranch full time, neither of you had put too much effort into making it homely. It was liveable, by all means, but the television in the living room dated back to the first Bush administration and the kitchen was a little too lime for your liking. The place had come furnished by the old owners, which had been a big selling point for Jack. He just wanted somewhere he could live whilst he was in Kentucky and this place had been practical. It wasn’t until you and your eye for interior design came along that he realised how retro it was. 

‘There’s a hardware store down the road.’ Jack said. ‘We can get a couple hours sleep and head down there later to see what they got.’

‘Maybe we can find something less green.’ 

‘I sure fucking hope so.’

---

The next morning, you and Jack bundled up into some warmer clothes and piled into the Bronco, heading for the store downtown. The actual city was miles out, but there lots of little local and independent places. There were little cafes and restaurants, as well as farmers’ markets and fresh produce. You had thought about living here permanently before, but you hadn’t verbalised it until Jack had suggested it first. Given everything that had happened in the past, you’d wanted to do things at his pace, but so far, you’d been perfectly in tune with one another. That was a testament to your relationship as a whole. 

‘I just smiled at that woman and she smiled back.’ You muttered to Jack, peering up at the store as you headed through the parking lot. 

‘And?’

‘I once smiled at a stranger on the Subway and they told me to piss off.’ 

Jack chuckled, reaching out to wind his arm around yours. He tangled your fingers together, pulling you flush against his side. It was easier to show physical displays of affection here too. He was always a little paranoid in the city, given how busy it was and how easy it would have been to for an enemy to hide. That was another thing Jack did without thinking; taking tiny little precautions to protect you. He couldn’t even begin to think about losing you. And the thought never popped up here. Never. Only in the city, where everything was loud and overwhelming.

The store itself was pretty big - it was good for you, but confusing for Jack. You had Pinterest boards with inspiration for all your hypothetical future houses, whilst Jack couldn’t the difference between ivory and sand. So, true to character, he let you tighten your grip on his arm and drag him towards the kitchen section, eyes wide like a kid in a candy store. You had a green blank canvas to go wild on, because probably would have agreed to anything. It wasn’t that he was a walk-over, or because he was lazy, he was just genuinely terrible at interior design. Introducing him to build mode on the Sims 4 had been traumatic enough. 

You didn’t have to decide anything immediately - after all, he’d said he wanted to move out here after he was done at Statesman. That was just as likely weeks as it was years. He did complain about his job giving him a bad back but you also knew that he enjoyed it. It was all he’d known for such a long time, and he’d worked hard to get to the top. Unbeknownst to you, he’d drop it all in a second if you wanted to relocate now. Even if he had the best job in the world and all the money he could ever want, the only thing Jack really needed was you.

‘Where do we even start?’ He asked, brown eyes staring confusedly at some paint samples. 

‘We start with the most important rooms - living room, kitchen, bedroom.’ You replied. ‘I’m thinking something midcentury for downstairs. What d’you think?’

‘Midwhatnow?’ His brows furrowed. 

You laughed. ‘Midcentury. So think...Bauhaus. Mid 60s sort of thing.’

‘Right.’ Jack nodded, getting a clearer idea. ‘How about you just to point to things and I’ll either shake my head or nod?’

Yeah, that sounded like a better idea.

And so, you began your trek around the store. Your Pinterest boards came in handy, especially for the kitchen - even Jack was grateful for them, because it meant you moved a little quicker. He did die inside a little when you grabbed a huge trolley and began piling it up with kitchen tiles, counters and cabinet doors, and even more so when you casually asked ‘you’re good at DIY, right?’

He didn’t complain though, not once. The sight of you rushing around the store, face lighting up at lamp shades and paint samples, was one of the best things he’d ever seen. Not only because it was hilarious, but also because it was the first time you really planned for your future. There was sort of an unspoken agreement that this was it, and that you were both in it for the long run, but neither of you had made any verbal plans together. You’d moved in together back in the city, but that had happened naturally. You’d started staying over and over more and more to sleep in his fancy Statesman bed and use his heavenly marble bathtub, and you came over one weekend and just never left. 

After a few hours, Jack finally had to put a stop to your antics. 

‘Okay, darlin’, I think we’ve reached the threshold now.’ He called. ‘We don’t need a new lighting fixture for the downstairs bathroom.’

You huffed. ‘Placing it back on the shelf.’

‘Fine.’

‘We’re gonna have a hard time getting in this car as it is.’ He held his arm out to you, signalling for you to come back to him. 

‘I’ll have to come back for the upstairs then.’ You muttered. 

‘We’ve gone from painting the kitchen to gutting the whole damn ranch, baby.’ Jack replied. ‘We’re only here for two more days anyways.’

‘Damn. I forgot about that.’ Your eyes widened. ‘I guess we better start today, then.’

--

This was supposed to be a relaxing weekend. 

Relaxing! 

And yet somehow, Jack Daniels was stood in the middle of his now half-demolished kitchen, a sledge hammer in one hand and a glass of his namesake whiskey in the other. He couldn’t deny that it had been fun to rip out the cabinets and tear off the tiles. He’d despised the colour of the kitchen for so long that it felt good to finally get rid of them, even if it meant that the tedious process of putting on the new ones came immediately after. You’d gone for simple black and white ones, with some mosaic ones for a...what had you called it? A feature wall or something. Apparently it added character (something he took your word for). 

‘So what’s the paint for?’ Jack frowned, taking a brush as you handed it to him. 

‘For the living room.’ You grabbed him by the shirt, dragging him out the kitchen.

‘But the kitchen isn’t done-’

‘- I’m bored of the kitchen.’ You said. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Course not, angel.’ He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

After grappling with covering the furniture up, you and Jack began to paint. It wasn’t too hard of a process; he just sort of whacked it on, whilst you had a much more meticulous process. So what if he got a splash of grey on the light switch? Actually, on second second thought, he should probably wipe that off.

Besides, it only took him five minutes to get sidetracked. The sight of you stood across the room, his red and black plaid shirt hanging from your shoulders, face screwed up with concentration and paint on your nose, was a distraction in itself. It was the sort of moment he wanted to get on a Polaroid, but equally, one that he wanted to savour. He always entranced by you, but sometimes that amplified. You weren’t even doing anything special - just...existing. But that was enough to capture his attention in its entirety. 

He didn’t tear his eyes away from you - not until something cold hit him in the face, and a splatter of grey paint nearly hit his eye. The noise of your laughter pulled him back to reality, practically losing it as you doubled over, holding onto the fire place for support. You were lucky that it was his favourite sound but heck, you coulda dumped the whole bucket of paint on him and he wouldn’t have flinched. 

‘That was rude.’ Jack folded his arms across his chest. ‘I’m gonna get you for that.’

‘No, you won’t.’

You dropped your paintbrush, suddenly leaping over the couch and sprinting out into the hallway. Trying to outrun a highly-trained government agent (a fact you sometimes forgot) might have not been your brightest idea, but you still managed to breeze past him and skid into the kitchen, almost tripping over a strewn tile as you did. 

Jack was hot on your heels, arms reaching out to grab as you circled back into the living room. He managed to snatch you by the waist, pulling you down onto the sheet-covered couch - he was nice enough to use his own body to break the landing at least. You landed on his chest with a thud, still in a fit of giggles as he grabbed your face and planted kisses all over it. His lips were soft and warm, tasting of whiskey when they finally met yours. You tangled your hand through his hair in an attempt to bring him close, as though it were even possible. 

You broke the kiss, rolling off of Jack and onto the sofa next to him, nuzzling into his side. The paint you’d managed to get on him was on you now as well, smeared down the side of your face and a little onto his shirt that you were wearing. Not that it bothered him all that much, because the sight of you in any of his clothes was worth a little bit of paint. You had a sort of rotation, where you would steal various garments and wear them until they lost his smell, before dumping them in the laundry and swiping some more. They were always baggy, scented with his aftershave and the faint smell of the leather from his car. When he was away on missions, it was the nearest thing you could get to one of his warm hugs.

‘Darling, d’you think, just maybe, that we should just pay someone to do all this?’ Jack gently suggested. ‘I can have a guy from the agency come in and be done in like three days.’

‘Three days? For the whole house?’ You peered up at him with a frown. 

‘Their speciality is rebuilding places after we accidentally blow them up so this will be like a walk in the park.’ He explained. ‘Although, the kitchen isn’t far off. the place is lookin’ as messy as the farmers’ market after sundown.’

‘And Champ won’t mind you abusing Statesman resources like that?’ You teased.

‘The man is so rich that he buys a new boat when the other gets wet.’ Jack reminded you. ‘He ain’t gonna notice.’

‘You have a point.’ You nodded. 

‘Besides, they’re better at decorating-’

‘- interior design.’ You cut him off. ‘It’s a house, not a Christmas cookie.’

Jack dropped his head against yours, letting out a groan. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I know.’ You leant up to press another soft kiss to his lips. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too, angel.’ 

Even though it was still a little far off, the glimpse that this weekend had given you into your future meant everything to him. He’d brought the ranch as a place to crash on business stays, and now you were helping to turn it into a home. At one point, he hadn’t imagine having a life to look ahead to or a house to decorate or somebody to love. Even though they were small, everyday things, you’d brought so much into his life, and he was never going to let you forget it. 

[jassp3r]

Title: Undercover Love

Kinks: Kinks:Breeding, overstimulation, degrading,praise, slight man handling, cockwarming, oral (f,m), face fucking, use of sir and feminine pet names

Playlist:

Somewhat proof read, Smut and fluff, Enjoy ig 🧍🏾‍♀️

Your eyes fluttered open as your regained your consciousness, your eyes scanning around the dimly lit room and voices ringing in your ears, you tried to move but soon realized you were tied in place to the bed frame of the bed you were placed on, you pulled on the rope hoping it wood loosen up but all it did was burn your wrists, you scanned the room again searching for something that could help you in some way but again, nothing, a guy walked up to the bed and stared at you before speaking, “It would be wise of you to not try to pull on the ropes, your tied up pretty tightly and your only gonna hurt yourself”, you eyed him a bit scanning his appearance, his black hair pulled into a tight pony tail and a uniform with gold writing on it, another guy walked up behind him giving you a murderous look before turning to the dimmest corner of the room, “We’re gonna get going, we have to take care of some other stuff before tomorrow night”, a low hum echoed through the room before another person emerged from the dark corner, his hands in the pockets of the sweats while his black tank top clung to his somewhat muscular build, you looked between the 3 men with confusion written all over your face, you swallowed a lump in your throat before lightly speaking, “who are you…and why am i here?…”, you noticed the one with the dragon tattoo across the side of his head turned to you, “I’m draken”, “i’m baji and dear mikey here will tell you” he said with his black hair swinging a bit, you turned to mikey tilting your head at him, awaiting his response, he looked at you before looking at draken and baji ignoring your question completely.

“Alright see you guys tomorrow then”, baji gave a sly smirk before walking out with draken trailing behind, you watched as he walked over to the door locking it behind them before walking back to the bed, his eyes scanning over your body, his gaze trailing over your body making your body shiver, you were only clothed in a pair of thin sweats and a skimpy tank top, you couldn’t even remember what happened and how you ended up here, all you remembered was getting ready for bed before a dark shadow was seen behind you and then everything went blank, your gaze snapped back to reality not knowing you zoned out in the first place, he walked over to the headboard and untied your hands and immediately you scooted away while rubbing your wrists, you thought of trying to make it to the door but you didn’t know how well your odds were, you pushed your back againt the headboard and watched as he climbed into the bed and sat at the foot board of the bed, your eyes locking as soon as he settled himself, your mind was no longer fuzzy and everything made some type of sense, a sudden sense of irritation and rage range through your body, “Are you gonna answer my fucking question?”, “Not until you answer mine”, what did he want you to answer? i couldn’t be that serious that he had to kidnap you, “Are you a spy”, “what type of question is that no i’m not a spy”, “then why did your body become so tense when i asked”, you didn’t notice that your breath had hitched and body tensed as soon as the question was asked, you thought you were doing alright with the dumb little girl act but it seemed he was smarter than you were told, you scoffed a bit and rolled your eyes, “So what if i am a spy, nothing you can do about it mikey”, “So you are a spy, who are you working for”, “why would i tell you that?”, “either you say it willingly or i fuck it out of you, leaving the choice up to you.”, your jaw dropped to the floor and shock took over you, were you expecting him to say that? ofc not, but were you down to test his nerve? yea you were, “You aren’t gonna do anything, your probably all bark and no bite like everyone else”, the sides of his mouth lifted into a small smirk before he sat up on the bed and pulled you down flat from your foot, he crawled over you and looked down at you, a glint of lust shining in his eyes as you began to squirm under him, your heart racing as he leaned down closer to you, your faces so close you could smell the mint and strawberry on his breath, his hand came off the bed and trailed up your side making your shirt push up as he slid his hand under your shirt and kneaded your breast in his hand, his lips colliding with yours less than a minute later, the kiss hungry and heated as your tongues tangled and witch with each other, he pulled away and yanked your shirt off your body throwing it somewhere in the room, your body grew hot as you watched him rip his shirt off not too long after, your eyes scanning his toned stomach and body growing hotter than before. He smirked at the sight of your eyes filling with lust, he had you right where he wanted you already and he didn’t have to do much to get there.

“Like what you see sweetheart?” You turned away feeling your face get hot, he pulled off his pants and boxers allowing his member to spring free, your eyes widening at the sight before you, his member stood tall against his stomach, pre cum already leaking from the tip, and that’s when you were able to see him in his full glory. He pulled your sweats on to find you had no panties on, a small smirk crossing his face. He pulled you to the edge of the bed and pried your legs open, your folds glistening with slick. He stuck his tongue up and allowed himself to get lost in your folds, the taste of you making him intoxicated but even more aroused. He brought his hand up and groped your breast in the palm of his hand, your juices running down his lips and his face. He pulled away and looked up at you, his eyes piercing through you. Your breath hitched as you felt his tongue brush over your folds and suck on your clit, your back arching at the pleasure and soft whimpers escaping your lips. He continued to explore your folds feeling your legs try to close in on him, a knot building in your stomach before you seen released on his tongue. He made sure to lick up all your juices before pulling away, i still of saliva still connecting you both. “Come here pretty girl”, you slowly got up and looked up at him, he wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you into a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. “Such a good girl for me already and we’ve barley even started, don’t worry princess i’ll take care of you”. He pushed you down onto your knees and looked down at you, “open” and you obeyed with no hesitation, he rubbed his tip on your tongue before thrusting in, you choked a bit but that didn’t stop him, he held onto your head, thrusting in and out of at a steady enough pace, the warmth of your mouth making him near his end faster, tears rolled down your face at the burning in your throat but you loved the feeling of him using you. His thrusts got faster by the minute, his high creeping up on him, his thrusts soon got sloppy before you felt him release in the back of your throat and ride out his high before pulling out, you choked a bit when he pulled out but made sure to swallow all his seed. “On the bed, now”, you were somewhat hesitant about this but still did it, you laid on your back and opened your legs, he got in the bed and just stared at you, he came closer and rubbed your clit before leaning down and whispering in your ear, “This pussy is mine and mine only, got it baby girl?”, “Says who” you spit back at him, “says me”. He lined himself up with your leaking hole before thrusting deep inside you, his length bottoming out in you, your mouth hung open at the feeling of him, feeling yourself get filled up completely.

He gave you no time to adjust as he began to thrust deep inside of you,”Such a dirty slut aren’t you, it’s like you were waiting for me to abuse your pretty pussy huh”. You whimpered and put your hand against his stomach to try and slow him down, he grabbed your hand and flung it away. He pulled out and pulled you up before slamming you down into the mattress, your fave down and ass up in the air, your hands being held behind your back as he thrusted into you again. He thrusted back in but at an angle, making you scream as soon as his tip lightly brushed against it, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing through the room along with your moans and his low grunts. “Aww look at you, taking my cock like a good little girl, such a fucking pathetic little cumslut”. Tears started to prickle at your eyes as he abused your g-spot, knowingly at that. His hand came up and smacked your ass watching you jump, your legs started to shake as you felt yourself come close to release. His hand came down and rubbed your clit stimulating you even more, your body shook as you reached your release but he that didn’t stop him from chasing his high while still being deep in you. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt him continue to thrust inside of you. “M-Mikey i cant t-take anymore”, he slapped your ass again, “That’s not my name, say my name princess.” You whimpered before trying to catch your breath to talk again. “P-Please slow down s-sir”, “Who’s pussy is this”, “Y-Yours sir” “Thats fucking right, always remember that” he said before he chuckled and slowed down a bit. “See that wasn’t so hard baby, now be a girl girl and take my cum like the cocksleeve you are”, his hips snapped back in forth slowly, his high creeping in not too longer after. He released deep inside you his cum mixing with yours as he pulled out and watched it leak from your overstimulated cunt.

Your body dropped flat onto the bed, your body tired and sweaty. He took a second before walking into the bathroom and turning on the tub. He allowed the water to fill it up as he walked back into the room and picked you up off the bed, your head in his chest and arms lazily wrapped around his neck. He got into the bathroom and set you down in the counter, walking over to the tub and turning the water off and checking the water to make sure it was warm enough. He walked back over to you and picked you up and gently put you down into the water, him getting in right after. He grabbed a wash rag and added some soap to it. He washed your skin off and cleaned you up before doing himself, he got out the tub and grabbed a towel for the both of you, wrapping one around his waist, and another around your body and you got out of the water. He carried you into the bedroom and dried the water off your skin before gently moisturizing it, he then grabbed a shirt of his and slipped it onto you. He got dressed after and pulled you into the bed with him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your ass pushed againt him, he grunted a bit and smiled, slipping himself back into you as he planted soft kisses on your head. You slowly began to fall asleep at the warmth of him wrapped around you, feeling so close to him like you were able to sleep peacefully for once. Your eyes shut and the last words you heard before dozing off was, “sleep well my princess”

Tags: @kiriswifey @wakasasmainluvr @gxthixx

[fleckcmscott]

Stepping Stones - Chapter 2

Chapter links: 1

Summary: Y/N and Arthur share a delightful life, one that isn’t perfect but wholly theirs. When his struggles take a serious turn, she's surprised by the toll it exacts. Though the steps they'll have to take aren't easy, walking them together makes all the difference.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Struggles with mental illness

Words: 3,739

A/N: Once again, a heartfelt thanks to @sweet-nothings04​ for offering to beta-read this story and her encouragement. Her contributions have been invaluable! Also, thank you guys for your support! I hope you continue to enjoy this story. And don’t worry: there may be angst - but there’s love, too. 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! I’m still working on requests and Way Back Home!

Y/N wasn't used to being searched. It'd last happened at the District Courthouse when she'd gotten in the wrong line and nearly wound up in the jury room for a murder trial. At least the stout woman in Arkham's visitor entrance lobby was more pleasant than the bailiffs.

Unassuming in a white polo shirt and black pants, her nametag introduced her as Gladys, and the split "I Can Help!" sticker along the top cemented her as a fixture. She was friendly for a Gothamite, commenting on the sunny weather while unceremoniously dumping the contents of Y/N's handbag onto a plastic table pad. Asking about the ride over as she politely ignored tampons and confiscated a nail file. She spelled Y/N's name back to her before jotting it on the sign-in sheet and offered a genuine smile. "You have a nice time with your husband, dear. Just check out with me before you leave."

Visitor's badge pinned above her left breast, Y/N adjusted the collar of her red silk blouse, ensured the heart pendent around her neck was centered, and pushed through the door marked "Visitation."

Her kitten heels click-clacked across the checkerboard linoleum floor. The cafeteria was large, like an elementary school gymnasium without the scoreboards. Lack of funding had turned the once pristine walls to the off-white of a bathtub that had seen too few scrubbings. Large windows dotted them in sets of two, each covered with grate from the inside. Metal fans were riveted to their frames, a poor attempt to compensate for the lack of fresh air. To her left, six rows of steel tables stretched halfway across the room, about a third full of staff and patients, family members and friends. A metal buffet stood to her right, along with a sign stating a menu of beef cutlets and gravy would be served at 5:30 PM. A pony wall separated a family area on the far end. She spotted a patient with his wife and daughter watching cartoons together, ones that were old enough for Y/N to have grown up on.

It struck her how average the place felt, similar to the hospital back home she'd spent far too many hours in. It made sense: the people here were patients like any other, even if they were under lock and key. When she headed to the aluminum coffee urn on a rickety steel cart, there was a woman, around thirty, making conversation with a new wave chick, holding a ragged teddy bear and pulling her hair. Their eyes met and Y/N attempted a friendly smile. Once she'd purchased two cups, she sat by a window and crossed her legs, foot swinging back and forth as she sipped the stale liquid.

She tried to quell her nervous anticipation. Due to his time of admittance, Arthur's forty-eight-hour observation period had stretched late into Thursday night, well after visiting hours. Tasks big and small had punctuated the wait. One of Arthur's clients called to confirm a birthday party, and Y/N, hazy from lack of sleep, explained there'd been a family emergency.

Then it dawned on her that she'd have to find Arthur's gig list, which meant rummaging through his desk, a private space she'd respected since presenting him with it for their anniversary. Thank god he no longer locked the drawers, because she had no idea where he kept the key. (There were only so many hiding places in their three-room apartment, but she had no desire to search every nook and cranny.) The yellow legal pad resided in the top left drawer, under a prop catalog and kraft paper notebook. After ringing Gary and asking him to fill in ("I'm not sure I can do all these, but I can mention them at HaHa's." "That'd be great but don't get yourself in trouble. And, please, leave out Randall."), she telephoned eight households and three businesses with his contact information and apologies.

She worked extra hours in the evening to make up for the time she'd inevitably take off when Arthur was home, an arrangement that wasn't strictly legal, but she didn't see the harm in. Her colleagues graciously ignored the number of personal calls she made, to ask how Arthur was doing and learn about policies. While he wasn't yet rational, staff said, he was cooperative. Well, mostly cooperative. He'd eaten breakfast and referred to everyone as sir or ma'am, but he'd also caused a ruckus when he'd come to and found his wedding ring missing. They'd made an exception to the no jewelry rule and given it back. Personal clothing wasn't permitted, either, besides underwear, and toiletries were out of the question. It irked her - he deserved the dignity of his own hairbrush - but she didn't want to single him out by arguing for further favors. So she shuttled over a week's worth of briefs on her lunch break, chest tight as she gave it to the man with headphones at reception.

Despite the setting, despite the weight of not knowing what mood he'd be in, a thrill bubbled through her veins. Whenever a silhouette appeared behind the glue chip glass of the patient entrance, her pulse skipped. Y/N knew it was silly to expect a lot this first visit but she couldn't help it. She missed him. She missed him. Like it had been thirty days instead of three.

It took about six minutes for the door to crack an inch, and a full ten seconds for it to open completely. An orderly propped his weight against it, pointing in her general direction with his head. She stood and smoothed her palm down her A-line skirt, ensured the hem was at her knee. Maybe it was selfish, perhaps even foolish, but she hoped the surprise would be a highlight of Arthur's day, make him feel better, and she hoped seeing him would be one of hers. He was still her partner, after all. Still her Arthur. That would never change.

Clad in white scrubs and white shoes and about twenty feet away, Arthur stepped over the threshold and scanned the room. She gave him a modest wave when she caught his eye. His approach was more tentative than she would have liked, his steps shorter than usual, fists balled at his sides. As he drew closer, she noted the oiliness of his hair, the two-day black and grey stubble on his chin. His crow's feet had grown deeper, his eyelids slightly purple. Exhaustion dripped from every pore. The cut on his forehead had scabbed over into a thin line, quite modest considering its origin and how much he'd bled.

But he was as beautiful to her as always. The hint of a smile tipped her mouth. "Hi, Arthur."

"Hi," he said lowly. A reservation she barely recognized clouded his light green irises.

Part of her began to suspect popping in like this had been a mistake. Giving up wasn't in her nature, however, especially when it came to the love of her life. She forged ahead, closing the gap between them. Dr. Kellerman had advised her to let Arthur set the pace of their visits, to offer support while respecting his boundaries. Yet, touching him had become as vital to her as breathing, and it didn't occur to her to ask for permission before she reached to cup his face.

His skin felt papery under her fingertips, and red, flakey spots of dermatitis bloomed next to his nose and below his eye. He smelled of cheap bar soap and detergent, though whiffs of his woodsy masculine scent lurked underneath. But his clothes were clean and fit him well, better than half his own wardrobe. "I'm so happy to see you," she said, tracing his sharpened cheeks.

He nodded weakly, lips pursed into a grimace of disbelief. "Good."

"I got us some coffee. We can sit here or on one of the sofas."

"Here's fine."

She took his hand and led him to their table, itching for him to entwine their fingers, lamenting a little when he didn't. While he followed closely, his posture radiated tension like an oven radiated heat. Rather than the gait they'd adopted over the years, he moved as if he was afraid to touch her, as if he feared she'd disappear. Or reject him. Once he was situated and stirring sugar into his cup, she sat beside him and bumped their legs, refusing to let his fears go unchallenged. "How's your room?"

"It's okay. Just me. I'm not there much." He blew lightly on his steaming brew. "I haven't seen this part of the hospital before."

Y/N arched her brow. "No?"

"Penny had trouble getting over here to visit. When I had episodes."

Flabbergasted, a huff of disapproval escaped her. Arthur had been in out Arkham six or seven times, and Penny hadn't made it over once? According to Arthur, she'd been sick for a while, but what about twenty years ago? Even later, they hadn't had any money, which meant she would've had to care for herself while he was away. If she had had the wherewithal to go through the process of committing her son, couldn't she have at least called a cab? Y/N pushed her ire aside, not wanting it to affect Arthur. "Did you see your therapist today?"

"Mhm."

"Is he good? Does he listen to you?"

"He's fine."

She took a long drink. "Did you get the underwear I brought over?"

"Yeah." he sighed, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. "They wrote my name on the waistband."

"I'll get new ones," she said, tapping her chin in contemplation, opting for a little cheer. "Donahue's has a racy number from Mad Mod. How'd you feel about zig-zag bikinis in maroon?" Instead of the laugh she'd craved, the incredulous smirk he saved for ridiculous suggestions, his knees quaked, bouncing and bouncing, freshly wound springs in bleached cotton.

None of this was going as she'd pictured.

Self-consciousness was atypical for her, a personality trait she'd shed in her late twenties after a failed marriage and the beginning of her parents' declines. Being with Arthur felt secure, open, even during his worst days. When he'd discovered his mother's Arkham file, learned the details of his abuse. Or the weeks after she'd passed and any chance of finding out more about himself, the truth about his father and chance to get a crumb of paternal affection, had died along with her.

Gathered at this table with her husband and bad coffee, old insecurities returned with the force of a subway careening at full speed. She sought to encourage him but didn't want to dismiss his feelings, harken back when he'd been burdened with "Happy." Her questions were obviously getting on his nerves - she was at a loss as to how he'd react to more of them. Their banter had vanished. The clues she had to follow were based on an old map, comprised of well-worn paths to joy she could walk with her eyes closed. Now those paths were overgrown with weeds.

But she wouldn't stop trying to trim them. Some shears were in reach: a woman's magazine lay abandoned on a nearby table, famous for its relationship quizzes and bedroom advice. She snagged it, scooted her chair closer to Arthur, and flipped through the glossy pages until the headline "Are You Meant To Be?" screamed in bright pink font. She cleared her throat and read aloud. "'You and your husband are shipwrecked on a desert island. You can take any household item with you. What item would you bring?'" She paused, then went with what first came to mind. "Toothbrush. I can't expect you to kiss me when I-"

"Why are you acting like this?"

Her gaze locked on him. "Like what?"

"Like I haven't fucked everything up."

Automatically, she reached for his thigh, not heeding the angry twitch of his jaw. "You haven-"

He batted her arm away, inadvertently knocking the magazine to the floor. "Don't lie to me," he rasped. "I don't like you seeing me like this. I don't want you to have to come visit and pretend." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, an anger she recognized as shame dripping from every word. "Can you please just go?"

Pain lanced through her, pain she hadn't felt since her father, deep in the throes of dementia, had accused her of stealing from him. Her lashes lowered to hide her hurt. Arthur acting like this was proof of how out of sorts he was, how much he was struggling with his illnesses. But it didn't make his behavior any easier to take, even if she firmly believed it should. She had to try to accept him as he was in the moment. To forgive him and herself for pressing him too far, too quickly. To listen to his request for time, the way he'd listened to hers after the Murray show, giving her the gift of patience and understanding. A gift he also deserved.

Pushing herself to stand, she glanced at the orderly and lay a gentle palm on Arthur's back. To her relief, he didn't retreat. "I'm here if you need me," she said softly. "If you feel up to it, give me a ring. We could both use a joke or two." Fingertips caressed his distended shoulder, and she pecked the crown of his head, breathed in the oily musk of his scalp. Not entirely pleasant but him all the same. "We'll see each other soon. Get some rest and remember I love you."

~~~~~

"This woman wandered in off the street the other day. Pointy-toed shoes, fur coat, pillbox hat like she thinks she's Jackie Kennedy..." Perched on Y/N's side of the bed, Patricia dunked her orange pekoe teabag, gave it a good squeeze, laid it on her saucer. "She wanted to sue the Wayne Estate for damages to her Bentley, because Thomas Wayne had broken a legally binding oral agreement - she must have read a legal thriller and gotten haughty - to fix the potholes in Old Gotham when he was mayor. I told her to complain to Public Works, but she decided to camp out at your old desk to clip her nails. Finally, Matt had enough and offered her a phone call to Gotham PD or ten bucks for her trouble." She shook her head with a chuckle. "What a jackass. Retirement can't come soon enough."

"Don't wish your life away," Y/N retorted, inadvertently quoting a pamphlet she'd gotten from the Arkham gift shop, "Care for the Caregiver." The title had made her balk: Arthur bathed himself, fed himself, knew who she was. But it had been a straw to hold onto, albeit feebly. She retrieved a curved, wooden hanger from the closet and stuck one end in the arm of her freshly ironed blouse. "Besides, you've been working since you were sixteen, right? I give it a year before you'd go stir-crazy."

"Actually, I've been thinking about taking a class or two at the learning center," said Patricia.

"Oh, really? What kind? Pottery, advanced baking, conversational Spanish?"

"How to find nicer friends."

Hand on her hip, Y/N smirked over her shoulder to find Patricia's teacup raised for a toast. "Let me know what you learn," Y/N said, hoisting the laundry basket onto the bed. "I could use a few pointers." She batted the older woman with a dress sock, then fished for its companion. She shook them out. Aligned the cuffs and toes, smoothed the nylon with the side of her hand, folded the fabric into thirds. The top drawer's left ball-bearing slide stuck when she tried to pull it open, and she made a mental note to ask Arthur to take a look at it.

Without warning, a profound sense of loss swept over her, flushing her cheeks, her forehead. He'd been gone almost a week, the longest they'd been apart aside from conferences and training. Her days had been blessedly busy but dragged on nonetheless, slow as the secondhand on her watch when the battery had to be replaced.

Arthur had gotten in the habit of leaving a note whenever he had an early gig or errand to run, just a few words stating where he was, that he'd be home later, that he loved her. Though she knew he was in Arkham, she couldn't stop her heart from expecting one when she made morning coffee. She ached to pull him inside before he lit a second cigarette, and for his teasing kisses when he'd resist. The way he brushed his teeth from side-to-side, eschewing her method of small circles and daily flossing. Last night, a hot flash had kept her awake, and she'd longed for the feel of his strong, slender hands rubbing refrigerated lotion into her calves, a trick he'd learned to quiet his mother when she'd gone through what he politely referred to as The Change.

Y/N had never wanted to love someone so much she needed them, but Arthur had made it safe. And now here she was, anguishing over a stubborn piece of furniture. She gave the knob another good, hard heave until it popped off into her palm. With a groan, she slapped it on the top of the dresser, between his wallet and her jewelry box.

A gentle hold on her elbow halted her. "The clothes'll keep," Patricia said.

The compassion in her voice, subtle chords that would sound like judgement to others, loosened Y/N's stance. Granted permission for her to take a break from coping and give into grief. Slinking down onto the mattress, she picked up Arthur's blue house pants from the mound of panties and trousers and hugged them to her breast.

"Your anniversary is coming up," Patricia continued. "Will Arthur be home for it?"

"Yes. Three weeks is all the insurance will pay for, and Dr. Kellerman said we were lucky to get that." Most patients were discharged after two, even if they had nowhere else to go.

"How is he? Do you think he'll be ready then?"

"I'm not sure. He barely comes to the phone." She'd tried letters, too. Written on her office letterhead, declarations of her support and affection that were as stilted as the motions she regularly drafted. Something for him to read when they couldn't speak, when they couldn't touch. But he hadn't responded.

Although Y/N was the sole person he'd added to his list of allowed visitors, he hadn't signed the release. Sure, she'd learn the details of his care if a court remanded him, but she wasn't about to have him declared legally incompetent, not unless everything went to shit. But she had deduced his schedule by calling and asking if he could come to the phone. He's in group, Mrs. Fleck, the charge nurse had let slip. Or, You can try in an hour. He should be out of one-on-one by then.

Therapy three times a day. Safety and daily living skills. Goal setting before bed. No wonder he hadn't had the energy to say good night.

"I know what you're going through," Patricia said. She stretched to put her empty teacup on the nightstand. "When Robert got back from Korea, he kept his distance. Buried himself in starting his business, was gone most nights on extra late repair jobs, worked, worked, worked. It was nearly a year before he really came home. But he made it and Arthur will, too."

The intimacy behind the disclosure was a welcome invitation, a hook that tugged at Y/N's core and confirmed honesty would be all right. She drew a shaky breath, fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of Arthur's pajamas. "I thought I'd seen everything. Losing my mother, going out of my mind with my father. Those were finalities I couldn't prevent." Rapid blinking fought the wetness of her eyes. She swiped at them with the heel of her hand. "If you had seen him, Patricia... I just hope Arthur understands. I don't want him to think I wanted him to leave."

"Listen to me." Patricia adopted her mentor tone and hugged her tight around the middle. "There's no way he'd believe that. Remember when we doubled at Kao Wah? When we were in the restroom, and he ordered your favorite dish without having to ask what it was? He adores you." She swept her hand through the air as if she could sweep away Y/N's woes. "You promised to take care of him through everything. You did what you had to to keep him safe. You couldn't have done anything else, Y/N. Don't doubt yourself."

After some moments Y/N nodded. "You know, my parents had a swimming hole on our property. When I was young, I used to skip stones across it and make wishes. For my doll's arm to mend, for my parents to say safe, for my sister's surgeries to go well." She chuckled and dabbed at her cheeks with Arthur's house pants. "I guess it was like praying, which I never had use for." The slightest smile edging her lips, she turned to Patricia. "Let's go to Gotham Park and throw some rocks."

~~~~~

The next morning, eleven percent of her worries cast away by a currently sore right arm, Y/N walked past Sherwood Florist, a closet of a shop around the corner from her office. Storefront freshly washed, robust floral arrangements on display in large, spotless windows, and an owner in horn-rimmed glasses checking the temperature of the nearest cooler, she decided to stop in. Yes, the florist told her, an expression of dubious curiosity on his face. They delivered to Arkham. Just include the patient's full name and ward in the address, and it'd be sent this afternoon.

She chose a squat, plastic vase filled with daisies and a yellow enclosure card with a bumblebee in the lower left corner. A bit cutsie for her taste, but it was the only neutral choice among birthdays and congratulations. She pondered what to write, pushing back the urge to ask him to reach out. A minute later, she put her pen to the cardstock. "I miss you like thread misses a needle. (Good thing you're the comedian - that was terrible.) You're not alone in this. You have my whole heart. - Y/N."

~~~~~

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[slippinmickeys]

The Earl (13/13)

This was a labor of love, and I can’t thank you guys enough for sticking with me. For Lin, my science editor, to Fiona and Amanda for beta-ing like champions, you guys were my rocks. Finally, thank you to you readers for keeping up the enthusiasm for this story for far longer than it probably should have taken me to write it. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I do hope its everything you wanted it to be.

To read this in its entirety on AO3, you may do so here. 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mulder, on his horse Hercule at the lead of what amounted to a well-outfitted cavalry, pounded down the stretch of road that led to Harwood Hall, the manse just coming into view. It was all thundering hooves behind him, and he could hear grunts of the horsed men that followed, could feel their thrilled energy at his back, and he was half-compelled to let out the war whoop of his Celtic forebears, riding into battle as they were, ready to save their damsel in distress. If it hadn't been for the generations of genteel decorum bred into him, he probably would have.

The fields lay long on either side of the narrow road, dotted occasionally with sheep and ancient stone fences. The sea shone far to the right and came into the land at an angle, pushing in toward the thumb-sized house like a shining sapphire buttress.

He was armed to the teeth, as were the men with him -- two pistols strapped to his hips and an old but perfectly balanced sword tight to his waist, the sheathed end of it tapping into Hercule’s flank and spurring him on. Walter and his Runner colleague Doggett were each carrying pistols — Doggett carrying an English flintlock blunderbuss in his left hand. Langly, who looked queasy on horseback and was not keeping his seat well, had what looked to be a long flintlock Kentucky plains rifle (said to be favored on the American Frontier), and Frohike, sturdy as a barnacle on his steely grey pony, had the intricately carved handle and stock of a Prussian target percussion rifle sticking out of an odd holster on his back. Byers carried a saber. Mulder couldn't help but wonder what a sight they made rolling along the English countryside at full gallop, their armory glinting in the sun.

As they barreled closer, Mulder could see that the manor itself was not overly large, but had a long fence and tall gate. They would have to get through it just to get on the property. Perhaps riding in like the Roman Legion hadn't been the best idea, but his wife was close -- he could feel it -- and his heart would have nothing but war until she was by his side.

Hercule had energy and heart to give, and Mulder could feel the animal ranging further and further ahead of the inferior horses giving chase behind them. In fact, when he looked back, he could see nothing but road dust and the occasional glint of metal.

Looking ahead, he could now see the house clearly, its brick the color of the sand on the shores surrounding it, and his eye caught movement at the building's entrance. Perhaps the fight was coming to them -- so be it.

He eased back on the reins and murmured a low command to Hercule, who slowed his steps only enough for the cavalry behind them to ease closer, and the figure from the manse -- Mulder could see that it was single figure now, dressed in white -- was moving quickly toward the gate. Perhaps it was a servant who thought Mulder was the post.

He wouldn't give them the chance to discover otherwise.

He pulled his pistol out from his hip and cocked it, skidding Hercule to a halt on the slippery gravel, and throwing himself from the saddle as he did so to land in a crouch in front of the gate. He could hear the other riders pulling in behind him as he rose and raised his pistol to point at the person who had just swung open the weir. He could not yet make out their identity, blocked as they were by the ornate iron lock.

"Stand and deliver," he said with calibrated fury.

And then he saw her face.

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Stand and deliver,” said a voice with the steely edge of violence. There was a pistol aimed directly at her nose. It took her only a moment to look past the barrel to the man holding it.

“Mulder!” she gasped, and launched herself at him. His arms came around her with the feeling of home and she allowed herself one brief moment of transcendent euphoria before she pulled away from him.

“Good God, Scully, I-” he fumbled. She had clearly taken him by surprise. The men mounted behind him were all wearing equally shocked looks.

“Away!” she said quickly, “Mulder, we must away!”

Upon the heels of her statement came a calamitous blast, followed immediately by another. The horses threw their heads nervously.

A balding man she didn’t know squared his jaw up and turned his horse away from the house, shouting, “On me!” before spurring away.

Mulder practically leapt upon Hercule’s back and grabbed Scully around the waist, lifting her easily up into the saddle in front of him, and they were away before a third and fourth detonation burst from the house behind them. The other riders, Sir Byers and his associates among them, followed, their horses spurred along by fear. They were barely away when there was an absolutely massive explosion. Frohike’s pony screamed.

Hercule was in the lead, despite having the added burden of a second rider, and rode on, unfazed. After several hundred yards, Mulder slowed the creature, holding Scully tightly to him, and turned the horse to look back on the estate.

There was nothing left. Where once stood a large country house there was now just a smoking crater. Scully felt nothing but satisfaction. She supposed she should feel something for the life that she had taken, but her God believed in an eye for an eye, and so help her, when it came to that man, she did too.

The other riders caught up with them and turned their horses to look as well. The balding man had fine, wire rim spectacles and looked at what was left of the house and then at her, giving her an assessing once-over.

“My lady,” the man said, “you did not, perchance, happen to find munitions somewhere on the estate, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Scully said, leaning back into the warm bulk of Mulder, “I did.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

“Well,” said Frohike as he dismounted his pony in front of the stables at Ashford Park, swinging his Prussian rifle over his shoulder, “we’re all dressed up and we’ve nowhere to go.”

A groom helped Scully dismount, then Mulder swung down behind her, handing over his reins, refusing to let his wife get so much as an arm’s length away from him. The other members of the rescue party were dismounting around them, scattering gravel at their feet and shaking hands.

Suddenly, there was a shout from the manor and Suzanne came careening down the steps and running towards them.

“You’ve done it!” she said, skidding to a stop in front of Scully and then wrapping her up in an embrace, “you’ve saved her!”

“Nay,” said Byers, stepping forward, “the lady has saved herself. We were but an armed escort bringing her home.”

Mulder felt a swell of pride momentarily override his intense sense of relief. His wife; intelligent, capable, resourceful. She had described her escape to the men on their slow ride back to Byers’s estate to the impressed astonishment of the horsed collective -- how she used her extensive knowledge of chemistry to escape the small cottage in which she had been imprisoned, how she found stores and stores of gunpowder and munitions in Spender’s stables and used them to ensure that the man never hurt anyone else ever again.

Frohike himself had asked many questions, and with each answer, he would shake his head and look at Mulder, no doubt wondering what the Earl had done to deserve such a remarkable paradigm of a woman.

Mulder wondered that, himself.

As the group began wandering back toward the house, Mulder pulled Scully aside.

“This must all be overwhelming. And I would like to hear all that happened to you -- when you are ready to share it -- but first, I must know one thing: Did he hurt you? Did any of them hurt you?”

She reached up and cupped his cheek, and he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand.

“Not in the way you fear,” she whispered.

He reached up and put his hand over her own, holding it close. “I would take whatever suffering you have endured and make it my own.”

“Something tells me you already have,” she said. She was more right than she knew. “I would like to go to our chambers now, Mulder, and change out of this soiled and ruined dress. And I would like to take a bath. And then…”

“Then?”

“Will you hold me?”

“I can do that,” he said.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder gently fingered the uneven ends of Scully’s shorn hair from where she lay tightly spooned up into his side. It felt so wonderful to be back in her husband’s arms.

“Does it look horrid?” she mumbled half into the pillow they shared. She knew he had loved her long tresses.

“You could never look horrid. It’s actually quite fetching. It highlights the elegant column of your neck. And if I’m honest, I can’t stop touching it.” He placed a soft kiss to the place where her jaw met her neck and she shivered, finally turning to face him.

“Whatever will the ton say?”

“They’ll say ‘what an extraordinary woman is the Countess of Wexford, and what an undeserving wretch she has for an Earl.’”

“Never.” She reached for his face and he kissed the tips of her fingers.

“I should have saved you. I should have done something about Spender, long ago. I never should have-“

She shushed him. “Mulder, I am frequently underestimated because of my sex. For once, I was able to use that fact to my advantage. I don’t ever want to hear you blame yourself for the reprehensible actions of another. You were not to blame. For any of it.”

He reached out and ran his fingers once again through what remained of her hair, looking at her with reverence. She was silent for a moment before reaching up and touching it, too.

“I suppose my hair will have plenty of time to grow out before we attend any events in Town,” she said.

“You don’t wish to return to London?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“Most ladies I know retreat to their country homes for the duration of their confinement.” She watched closely for his reaction, and saw it in his eyes the moment realization hit -- they went from confusion to elation.

“Your… your confinement?” he asked breathily. She nodded, smiling.

He grabbed her face in two hands and kissed her soundly, then pulled back the covers on the bed and moved down until his face was level with her abdomen. He lifted her shift until the bare skin of her belly was exposed, and leaned in to place a reverential kiss there, too. His mouth lingered. He whispered something she could not make out.

She felt a rush of yearning wash over her. “Mulder,” she whispered, and he looked up, his mossy eyes connecting with hers. They didn’t have to speak. He crawled his way back up her body slowly and kissed her softly, his weight resting on his hip, one hand in her hair, the other caressing her with a featherlight touch. She felt desire pool between her legs.

He pulled back and nosed his way gently down the curve of her jaw, flicking his tongue slowly as he eased his way along the column of tendons in her neck. Her head fell back on a blissful moan, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, letting the silken softness play about the skin of her hands, wanting to feel him -- all of him -- reveling in having him back at her side, within her grasp.

He drew back momentarily to pull his white lawn shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor. The space between them felt like a sea, and she realized in that moment that however deeply she thought she had loved him before she’d been taken by Spender was a pittance. The love she felt for him in this moment threatened to overwhelm her. She longed to feel him against her, inside of her, every unyielding edge and hard plane of him; she wanted to take all that he was and absorb him like water, like air.

She reached for him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

He marveled at her. The soft contours of her body called to him; her pliant skin, her lush, pearl-pink-tipped breasts, her soft seawater eyes. None of which compared to the rapier-sharp intelligence of her beautiful mind. It was like she was moulded from clay by the gods specifically for him. He was a hopeless wretch in love. And now there was a babe inside her belly.

He felt an overwhelming tenderness toward her, at her resilience and strength in finding her way back to him, and he felt himself marveling at the miracle of life they’d created.

He sat back on his haunches, roving his eyes over her, struck dumb.

And then she reached for him.

“I need you,” she whispered, beseeching him, “I need to take you inside of me. Please.”

The blood thrummed inside of him.

He reached down and delicately parted her legs, taking himself in hand and gently thumbing the soft bud at the crest of her sex. She hissed a breath through her teeth and he guided himself, sliding straight home.

Scully reached under his arms with both hands and wrapped them around his shoulders, pulling him tightly to her. He thrust up into her slowly, tenderly, keeping his weight on his elbows, framing her face with his arms.

He could feel her pulse as it beat in her slick sheath and he took a breath, trying to control himself. He wanted this to be sweet, tender lovemaking -- a homecoming -- but with every stroke, he felt more and more desperate for release.

A sob wrenched from her throat and she turned her face into his neck, pressing her teeth into the skin there.

“Mulder,” she panted, her voice hungry with yearning, with palpable, unabashed need.

He turned and pressed a soft kiss to her lips and then leaned back, grabbing her hips in both hands. He began to snap into her with more force, and her hips rose with each plunge, as desperate to meet him as he was to be buried deep inside of her. And then she threw her arms over her head, her hands pushing against the carved headboard of the bed, her head thrown back, and she keened an almost inhuman sound, her muscles gripping him in an endless, pulsing clutch.  

He ascended to a place beyond thought.

XxX

Mulder awoke once again with the smell of lavender in his nose, the soft curve of Scully’s behind pressed into him. He inhaled deeply and pulled her more tightly to him.

He would stay here all week, all month, all year, if he could. But he needed to send word to Henwick Priory that he and the Countess would be arriving soon, and staying for the duration.

He rose and gently extricated himself from around Scully, dressing as quickly and quietly as he could. He was just pulling on his Hessians when his wife inhaled deeply in the bed and rolled over, cracking an eye to look at him with a small smile on her face.

“What time is it?” she croaked, her voice rough with sleep.

There was an ormolu clock on the mantle of the bedroom, and Mulder peered at it before coming to sit on the bed next to her hip.

“It’s just past nine o’clock. If you wish to go back to sleep, please do so.”

She stretched, brushing a hand down his arm to thread her fingers through his own.

“I shall rise,” she said, “I’d like to write to my mother and visit with Suzanne. Would you mind calling for Prudence?”

Mulder hesitated briefly, but then rose and pulled the cord. It seemed only moments before the door to their chambers opened.

“My lady!” Prudence came rushing into the room, a joyful look of relief on her face.

“Prudence,” said Scully fondly, reaching her hands out to recieve her.

“Oh, my lady ,” Prudence said again, taking Scully’s hands. She seemed to be overwhelmed with emotion.

Mulder stepped forward. He had not spoken with Prudence since calling her in to meet the Bow Street Runners, and charging off the second she gave them the location of Spender’s Kent estate. The young woman eyed him warily before glancing back at her mistress.

“You need not call the Countess that anymore,” he said calmly to her.

Both women swung their eyes to him; Scully in confusion, Prudence in something close to fear.

“And what should she call me?” Scully asked.

“Sister,” Mulder said simply. “For that is what she is to me.”

“My lord?” Prudence queried.

“Come,” Mulder said, pulling the envelope scrawled with a large X out of his pocket. “I’ve something to show you both.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

EPILOGUE

Several Years Later

The spring air was deeply fragrant, the mossy banks of the ornamental lake a dazzling shade of green. The sun was so bright she sneezed.

"Bless you, my lady," said a gentle voice from behind her.

Scully turned to thank Sir Byers from where he sat on a large blanket spread out on the grassy embankment just under an ancient oak on the north lawn of Henwick Priory. Byers was cradling a sleeping babe -- he and Suzanne's second, little Reynard, named for his Godfather.

Scully turned back to where she had been watching -- peering at the arbor twenty yards away for the child's namesake. Mulder had taken three-year-old Clio into the vast gardens to look for butterflies, but they had been gone near to thirty minutes -- it was likely the child had been distracted by something or other in the terraced space -- she had, after all, inherited her mother's scientific curiosity.

Just as she was about to turn away, she saw movement, and Clio came running out from the garden, her skirts flying out behind her. She wore a gleeful smile and her bright red curls glinted in the sun.

"Mama!" she shouted as she approached, "we found a caterpillar!"

Scully swept the girl up in her arms and pressed a kiss into the child's pink cheek.

"Oh, you must tell me the color! We'll identify it."  

"Papa said it was a Cinnabar moth," Clio said, dropping her heavy head sleepily onto Scully's shoulder. The child had a tendency, like her father, to drop off at a moment's notice and it was nearing time for her afternoon lay-down.

"Oh, he did, did he?" Scully said. Mulder was getting better at taxonomy, but he had a habit of misidentifying the things he classified for their children, if only to get a playful rise out of their mother.

Scully looked for said Papa and found him emerging from the gardens, walking slowly with his hands behind his back, patiently trailing William, the future Tenth Earl of Wexford, who had learned to walk only the month before and was toddling along jerkily, like a sailor in his cups. Scully caught eyes with the boy's father and he grinned at her, the smile crinkling the skin at his eyes.

"I see your father found your little brother," Scully said, smoothing out Clio's pinafore. "Where is your Auntie Pru?"

Samantha had offered to take William along on the garden expedition when the boy began crying that his father was walking away.

"She and Monica are cutting flowers for the picnic!" Clio answered, and turned in Scully's arms, wanting down.

William finally toddled up and flopped down on the blanket next to Byers, and Mulder strode up to Scully smelling of grass and sunshine with an underlying trace of clover. He leaned down and captured her lips in a quick kiss.

"My lady," he mumbled into her.

"My lord," she said, then looked down to see William attempting to dive into one of the baskets the footman had set out for their afternoon picnic.

"O-ho!" said Mulder as he swept up William away from the temptation, throwing the child into the air and catching him a moment later. The boy squealed in glee. "Not until everyone has arrived, little one," his father gently chided him.

In what amounted to rather perfect timing, Frohike, Langly, Suzanne and the oldest Byers child Emma at that moment came tromping down the steps on the north side of the estate, just as Samantha and another woman emerged from the garden, each with an armful of pink tulips.

"Oh, what a lovely addition to our picnic!" Scully said to Samantha's bright smile. She kissed her sister-in-law's cheek.

"It looks like Cli is about to drop off," Samantha grinned.

"No I'm not, Auntie Pru," the child said on a large yawn. To the day, both Mulder and Scully sometimes called Samantha by her middle name out of habit and the children had latched onto the idea.

"Do you want me to take her up to the nursery?" Samantha whispered. Scully shook her head. Samantha had been welcomed into the family without reservation, but at times was still not used to her elevated rank and attempted to do various tasks best left to the staff. It drove Mrs. Paxton batty.

"Sit, Samantha," said Monica Reyes, Samantha's hired companion, who was arranging the flowers prettily in an empty basket, "put your feet up. Have a cup of tea."

Initially Monica had been hired as companion, chaperone and etiquette tutor, drilling Samantha in the ways of the ton , but the ladies were now very good friends and, thought Scully wistfully, perhaps something more.

Mulder set his son down once again on the blanket and came up to Scully, putting his arms around her from behind. "That's good advice," he rumbled in her ear. She shivered slightly. He still had the ability to give her gooseflesh with a mere touch.

"Perhaps I will," she sighed happily, leaning into him.

“Ah, the cavalry has arrived!” said Mulder as the group from the house approached.

“Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people,” Frohike quoted, letting go of Emma’s hand. She and Clio -- who had found a second wind of energy upon seeing her friend -- darted off to play on the spacious lawn.

“I count myself in nothing else so happy,” Mulder quoted back, “As in a soul remembering my good friends.”

“Shakespeare is all well and good,” said Langly, whinging ever so slightly, “but can we eat?”

“Champagne first!” Mulder announced, nodding to a footman who had been waiting nearby with the refreshment.

Frohike’s eyebrows rose as he took the proffered glass and he peered knowingly at the lord and lady of the house, who still stood in an embrace. “What’s the occasion?”

“We’ve an announcement,” Scully smiled, and Mulder reached down to caress the bump in Scully’s belly that was just beginning to make itself known.

“I knew it!” clapped Suzanne.

“Again?” gaped Langly.

Mulder winked at his bespeckled friend and raised his glass. “To good friends reunited,” he said, “and the blessing of another child.”

The gathered party raised their glasses in a toast.

Frohike looked up, thoughtful. “A third Wexford babe, and I’ve yet to find a wife.”

“My friend,” Mulder said, pressing a loving kiss into Scully’s hair before looking up at him, “never give up on a miracle.”

THE END

[writingsbychlo]

Types Of Kisses | Bellamy Blake

Author: @writingsbychlo​

Word Count: 6201

Notes: My first official Bellamy Blake thing, go easy on me if it sucks? Also, this was supposed to be headcanons and it really just got out of control. My bad.

Warnings: References to sex, references to death, references to injury, thats about it? It’s pretty nice and soft, really. As apposed to my other things. 

Quick Kisses When You’re Both Busy

Finding free time around the camp was hard, everybody was set to a job, keeping it running, keeping you all safe, pulling their weight. 

You were no different.

Somehow, it seemed everybody here had arrived on this planet with a useful trade. Monty was a genius in everything he tried, Jasper was a wiz-kid, Raven could fix, build or hack anything you threw at her, Clarke seemed to be a certified doctor within three weeks of landing, Murphy has an uncanny ability to steal anything anyone needed and Bellamy was just a natural-born leader. You, had a particularly good talent for drawing smiley faces, not that it was a talent you could transfer much here.

Instead, you opted to study underneath Raven, and help her out since she had limitations now with her leg. That is how you found yourself twenty feet up a metal tower, with a pair of pliers and a racing heart in front of an electrical box. 

“Okay, so tell me again which socket the red wire is connecting to?” She shouted up and you traced the wire gently with your fingers, following it along to the socket. 

“Top right! Where do you want the other end going?” Waiting but receiving no reply, you looked down, a familiar mop of deep brown hair catching your gaze next to the top of a pony-tailed head. Abby also stood with them, Clarke too, and you rolled your eyes, having given up on watching them argue and choosing instead to detangle wires you knew weren’t needed. 

Feeling a tug on the rope around your waist, you glanced down, Raven holding the end securely and you closed the box, unwrapping your leg from around the pole you had fastened yourself to and immediately swinging away from the tower and into the air. 

Being slowly lowered, you were surprised when you were met halfway by Bellamy, the fingers of one hand holding him to the beams he climbed up, the others wrapping around the knot at your waist as he pulled you back close to the tower. His lips landed on yours softly, your hands coming up to cup his face as you grinned. 

“Well, hello there.” You teased, and he smiled, pecking your nose gently. 

“Raven says to plug the blue into the middle and connect the two ends.” He grinned, placing another chaste kiss to your lips before letting you swing back out into the air. Raven pulling you back up to the box as he began his climb back down. “See you later!” He shouted, patting Raven on the shoulder before following Abby across the camp, leaving Clarke to chat with Raven and you with a smile on your face. 

Needy Kisses When One of You Wants Attention

It wasn’t like you were purposefully ignoring Bellamy, you weren’t, but your top had a hole torn in it from where you’d snagged it on a branch running from the acid fog, and being that it was the only one you had, you were trying to stitch it up again. 

That had been going well, until Bellamy had pushed his way into your tent, kicking his boots off from a stressful day and flopping down on your makeshift bed, the impact of his body nudging yours causing the sharpened piece of twig you were using as a needle for stitching to prick the end of your finger.

With a mumbled apology, he threw his arm over his eyes, the other stretched outwards for you to curl into his side. Except, you didn’t. Peeking up from under his forearm, your eyes weren’t even on him, actually, and all he wanted at the end of a stressful and busy day was your attention, and the fact that he wasn’t getting the aforementioned attention was irking him. 

Your finger was now placed between your lips, shirt clutched in one hand and he let himself finally take you in. The bra that had been a clean white when you’d first come down was now more of a murky grey, stained from continual washing in the river and working, and the strap that was near snapping had discoloured threads, strings stolen from spare materials holding it together, the thought bringing a smile to his lips. 

Your hair had been tied up out of your way in the messiest braid he’d ever seen, chunks that were too wispy and short to reach hung around your face as you concentrated, and he forced himself to sit back up, resting his chin on your shoulder and letting a loud grumble resonate in his throat, telling you exactly what he wanted.

“In a minute, Bell, I just gotta’ finish stitching this.” You promised, holding it up to show him you weren’t far off, but his arms snaked around your waist, squeezing you tightly, a huff leaving his lips. Using his nose to nudge the strap from your shoulder, he kissed along your shoulder blades and up to just beneath your ear, nuzzling into your skin as you giggled.

Letting the shirt fall to a pile in your lap for a moment, you turned to him, cupping his face and pressing your lips to his. His response was almost instant, his lips pressing to yours just as firmly and he hummed happily, moving to lie back down, and you pulled away, his eyebrows furrowing, a pout forming on his lips as he whined. Pecking his lips again once, twice, you shook your head. 

“I seriously have to finish stitching this, otherwise I’ll have nothing to wear.” You teased, and he chuckled, his fingers dancing along your skin raising goosebumps to your skin as he sucked gently on your shoulder, working his tongue over your skin until a purple mark he could be proud of had appeared. 

“I don’t see a problem with that.”

As he moved to the next spot, he let his fingers play with the clasp, popping it open and slipping his hand around to your front, fingers tracing the now loosened support on your front and you sewed up a knot, having successfully closed the gash in the fabric. Using your teeth to snap the thread, you chucked your shirt to the floor, standing and letting your bra slip down your arms, popping the button on your jeans.

Watching, joyfully, Bellamy lay back, arms propped behind his head as he watched you shimmy out of your jeans. His bottom lip was caught between his lip and his features were playful, but his eyes were tired and you could see it. Kicking the pants from your legs, you placed your hands on your hips, a smile tugging at your own lips. 

“You say that now, Bell, but I don’t think you’d be too happy when Murphy’s eyes would be on me all day if all I wore was my bra, hm?” The smile immediately fell away to be replaced with an angry frown, and he shot up, hand reaching behind his head to tug his own shirt over his head as he held it out for you, tugging you down onto the bed with him when you reached out for it. 

Straddling him, he held it open, dragging it over your head until the material was bunched around your neck, and he used the opportunity to pull your forwards, your lips meeting his once again. His hands slipped up from the top to your face, cradling your cheeks in his hands and you pushed your arms through the holes, enjoying the warmth he’d left in it, his smell clinging to the fabric. 

Finally laying down with him, you peppered kisses along his jaw and he sighed happily, eyes closing as he got the love and care he wanted at the end of a long day leading the 100.

Goodnight Kisses

Your entire body ached, all your muscles were screaming out, and you were so thankful when you finally sat down on the edge of your bed. Echo had been teaching you some fighting methods, training you up, and it was really taking a toll on your body 

With a heavy sigh, you leaned back in the soft touch on your back happily. Turning to Bellamy, his eyes were equally as tired as yours, mentally exhausted and strained from spending all day with Raven working out how best to run and maintain the ring, and trying to find out how the hell they were going to get back down to earth in a few years. With a soft smile, you switched off the lamp beside you and crawled under the covers, relishing in the feeling of no longer having to stand on sore feet or put pressure on aching joints. 

Curling into Bellamy’s warmth, his hand immediately wrapped around your shoulders, your head resting happily on the pillow and his arm, your own hand folded under your pillow with the other on his chest, a content sound leaving you both as you stared tiredly into the dark, your breathing slowing as you matched up. 

Your leg hitched up, one of yours curling around his and his other hand found your thigh beneath the covers, holding onto you as his thumb absentmindedly stroked over your skin. Pressing a soft kiss to the skin of his neck where your face was pressed, he returned the gesture by pressing a series of kisses to your forehead and temple, pulling you impossibly closer and squeezing you into him. 

Rubbing your nose, against his jaw, you could feel the yawn that left his lips, and he turned to look down at you resting on his shoulder, using his nose to nudge your attention to him. Without even opening your eyes, you let the hand that had been resting on his chest come up to cup his cheek, pressing your lips to his languidly and tiredly as he returned the gesture, your lips barely moving as he smiled softly into the exchange. 

“Love you.” He muttered, kissing your nose before letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

“Love you, too.” The words were muffled, spoken through a yawn and on the edge of sleep.

Goodmorning Kisses

Kissing along the scruffy jawline of the curly-haired boy, you grinned, giggling against his skin as he turned his head away from you with a grumble about it being too early, and you only continued to kiss his jaw on the other side, trailing kisses up along his cheek to the corner of his mouth. When he puckered his lips, however, having accepted that it was a wake-up call, you pulled away, sitting upright in his lap, leg either side of his, and one of his eyes popped open to look at you. 

“You forgot one.” His morning voice was raspy, and you popped an eyebrow, leaning down, close to his face again as a satisfied grin broke out on his cheeks, and just when your breath was brushing over his lips and he leaned in, you swerved, pressing a kiss to his other cheek, sitting back up as he stared at you, incredulously. 

Propping himself up on his elbows, raised his own eyebrows, eyes twinking, mischievously. “So, that’s how you’re going to play it?” He teased, and you nodded, making to remove yourself from him,  but his hands locked on your hips as he flipped you over, settling happily between your legs, arms either side of your hips as he caged you in, your head on the pillows and the cover under your back. 

Touching the tip of his nose to yours in an eskimo kiss, he licked over his lips, pressing them to yours, and you wound the fingers of one hand into his hair, taking a nice handful of it between your fingers and scratching your nails against his scalp lightly, the other resting on his chest. 

Nipping at your bottom lip, he wanted access to your mouth, but you pulled away, giving him another chaste peck, before pushing him away with the hand on his bare chest. “Not until you brush your teeth.” The look on his face caused you to laugh as he sat back on his heels, and leaned down, breathing harshly in your face as you whined falsely, squirming away from him. 

“Well, good morning to you too.” He dragged the words out, breathing heavily in your face as you complained about his morning breath, a laugh leaving his throat as he placed a wet kiss to your cheek, rolling from the bed and wandering away to brush his teeth, leaving you with a nice view to admire as he did.

Toothpaste Kisses

The brush hung from your mouth as you exhaustedly cleaned over your teeth, the paste leaving an unpleasant taste in your mouth, but it was the best any of you could come up with from the plants around you, and you were just grateful to have somewhat clean teeth as opposed to rotting ones. 

Letting your thoughts wander, you stared off into space, barely acknowledging the person who came and stood beside you, picking his own toothbrush up and dipping it into the jar, collecting an amount of the paste and scrubbing at his own smile. Jumping at the chuckle that sounded beside you, you snapped back to the present, eyes turning to lock on the man beside you as you raised an eyebrow. 

Reaching up, he used his thumb to swipe an excess dribble of foamy paste from your chin, a slight blush rising to your cheeks, and you held your hair back, leaning away and spitting out the residue, using your water bottle to rinse out the rest of the aftertaste. “Thank you.” The words were spoken softly, and you leaned up, pressing a kiss to Bellamy’s tanned cheek as he frowned. 

“You mithed.” His words were muffled through a mouthful of toothpaste and being spoken around the handle of a brush, and you rolled your eyes, leaning back as he leaned towards you, his eyebrows raising. “Wan’ a kith.” Grinning, you shot him a look, your hand coming up to cup his cheek as you rubbed the tip of your nose of his, before pressing your lips to his gently, to which he happily returned. 

Pulling away, he once again reached up, cleaning the paste he’d put there from your cheeks and around your mouth. “Love you.” He grinned, tapping your nose before turning away to finish getting ready, and you just leaned up, pressing a kiss to his shoulder through his shirt. 

“Love you too, Bell.”

Pre-Mission Kisses

The whole camp was bustling, everybody rushing from one location to another as different teams prepped for different aspects, in order to pull off yet another one of Raven, Clarke or Jasper’s ingenious plans. With a sigh,  you started your trek towards the main bunker, knowing exactly who you’d find there. 

You could hear him barking orders from inside before you’d even opened the door, and when you did, your eyes immediately locked onto his firm, one of a few, at the centre of the hubbub. He was standing tall, gun strapped to his back and arms crossed as he yelled at each person he saw. 

The light of the door opening caught his eyes and he spared a glance to the doorway, the harshness in his eyes never softening, he was in role now, he was leading, and he wouldn’t fall down at the first sign of you, not when he had to do what was best for his people. He did, however, tilt his head backwards in a subtle nod, motioning you towards him, before his eyes immediately snapped away to continue his instructions. 

Fighting your way through the crowd, you stood and waited as he bossed around the group before him, his fingers twitching at his side nervously, he wanted to reach out, to lace his fingers through yours and kiss along your knuckles, just like he did when the two of you were alone, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

When the group had dissipated to do as told, however, his attention was directed to you. Holding out his hand, just slightly, you laced your fingers through his, his hand instantly squeezing around yours, as a reassurance to both yourself and him. Using the connection to close the rift, he tugged you closer to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, your face buried in his neck as your own arms looped around his waist, holding him close.

His cheek was pressed to your temple, and your eyes were closed, as you both just stood, breathing one another in and taking a moment to acknowledge the situation. Barely moving, you tilted your head up, his down, until your eyes met, yours filled with worry and his filled with longing. Longing to stay, be in your arms all day and not have to risk it all.

With a hand on your cheek, he licked over his bottom lip before pressing his chapped ones to yours, pouring all the love and care he had for you into it, his lips moving slowly against yours, 

as you both relished being in the moment, before it was torn from you with unending possibilities and bad outcomes. 

Stepping back, he pulled his sad frown into a harsh look, nodding to you before stepping away, voice scratchy as he shouted, and you knew that while tears were pooling in your eyes visibly, he was hiding the same pain much better.

Post-Mission Kisses

Meeting Bellamy at the gate upon his return was a habit. You would pick at the wooden posts nervously, but it saved you chewing at the skin and nails on your fingers in fear. Harper often joined you if Monty was gone too, and while Abby would use the excuse of being a medical help closer than the bay, she was just as worried for Kane and you knew it. 

The minute the rover was heard within distance, you knew it would be minutes before Bellamy was back in your reach, or forever torn from it. Relief mixed with panic washed over you in waves as you waited, as always with bated breath, until they were close enough for you to see the driver.

With hair floppy and mussed, dirt splattered across tanned skin; he was there. The doors were wrenched open, and the engine came to a stop just metres away, and you took off in a run across the muddy path towards the opening door on the driver’s side. With arms held open, you flung yourself into his arms, holding him tightly as he gripped you just the same, hands undecided on where they wanted to sit, rubbing along your back and playing with your hair as you simply held him, knowing he was back.

He was dishevelled, as always. Hair that had been slicked back was now hanging messily from his head, skin that had been clean and pure was littered with dirt and blood, bruised and cut. Tracing your fingers over his skin, he leaned down, lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, all the pain and anger forgotten as you moved against him. 

Your bodies were pressed together, his tongue tracing your bottom lip as you granted him access, your hands cupping his face as he gripped bruisingly at your waist, holding you firmly to him, as if scared that when he let you go, you’d be gone. Sucking on his bottom lip, slightly, he let out a breathy moan, just for you to hear, and when you pulled away, his eyes were filled with sorrow and sadness, tears lining them and glittering in the light. 

“You’re the only thing that pulls me through.” The words were spoken breathlessly, barely above a whisper, and you would’ve missed it had you not been listening, and you just pressed your forehead to his, fingers slipping around to run through his hair soothingly and he refused to let you down, not just yet, he needed you close to him, he always did. 

Turning you both around, he trapped you against the cold metal of the rover, one hand slipping from your waist as the forearm of the other rested by your head, blocking you both from view as he leaned back in, a more aggressive kiss on his lips as he poured everything pent up inside into it, cheeks wet with shed tears.

Taking control, you submitted to him, knowing he just needed to know that he had absolute dominance, power, over something in his life, something he managed and could be responsible for, and you let him, because if there was one thing you knew, it was that Bellamy Blake needed you just as much as you needed him. 

Those Kisses that Intend to Lead to More

Eyes burned into the side of your head, and despite how many glares you’d already shot him, he refused to let up, eyes never leaving your figure, despite how many times you attempted to duck from within his eyesight. The shining bonus of not being an upstanding member of the leadership team was being able to make the most of your time on earth, and that when Monty arrived with a barrel of something strong and disgusting, you could partake in it. 

Bellamy, was not such a fan of this. Whenever these events arose, he stood back with the rest of the few that knew they couldn’t afford to drink, a cup of water in their hands instead of the bitter liquid everyone else was taking in like air, including you. He would much rather have you tucked under his arm in these events, or off talking, eating, fucking. 

He wouldn’t care what you were doing, as long as it was you and him. But when these barrels rolled around, you favoured taking part in the festivities, and who was he to stop you? He never wanted to control you, and he knew these chances for you all were rare, but God, he hated the way you were a little too carefree, and that you were a little too close to the hot fire keeping you all warm. 

He hated that because you were so close to it, you’d taken your jacket off, his jacket, and you weren’t revealing anything, but the only person who should be looking at you should be him, and he did not like Murphy’s eyes on you, or you and Jasper drunkenly exchanging jokes and giggling while getting another drink.

What he hated most, however, was how absolutely beautiful the orange flames of the fire made you look. They illuminated you, made you glow like an angel, and his fingers were almost crushing his cup, white knuckles, at how badly he wanted to drag you away from them all, drag you away from the group and take the opportunity of the loud noise and music to cover up the screams he’d be drawing from you.

When you were ready, you’d come to him, and until then, he had to be patient. But he was losing his patience, and they all knew it. Clarke had made several jokes already, and Octavia was rolling her eyes at him every time he managed to drag his eyes away from you for a split second to glance at anyone else and ensure anyone else’s safety. Due to the hot weather, they were currently enjoying on earth, a ‘summer’ it was called, you had sliced the legs off of one of your pairs of jeans, leaving you in shorts. Which he had no problem with. You were wearing one of his t-shirts, which he definitely had no problem with, because fuck, if he didn’t love seeing you in his clothes. 

What he didn’t love, was that your dancing was causing your shorts to ride up your thighs and the hem of his shirt was almost covering them. A sight that had his pants tightening just a tad, and his face flushing, because he loved seeing you pull on his shirt and collapse into his arms with nothing underneath right after he’d fucked the lights out of you, and your breathless form, flushed face and dopey drunken smile was very resemblant of that moment.

Deciding he’d had enough, he stalked across the camp, the short distance that felt like a mile to you was closing in, and your eyes had locked with his as he approached. Scooping down to pick up your jacket from where you’d discarded it on the ground, before closing the distance between the two of you. 

His lips crashed into yours before you could even think, fingers gripping tightly at your chin as his lips moved, yours sloppily trying to keep up with the pace he was setting. His free hand was drifting just a little too low on your back and he knew it, but he also knew he had the attention of the people around, and he wanted to make sure they knew that no matter how good you looked, and no matter how funny their jokes were, you were always the arms he was going to come home to in bed that night. 

He wasn’t a jealous person, no, he trusted you too much for that. He was, however, a weak-willed person when it came to you, and the way you moaned his name slightly, biting on his lip as you pulled away, rocking down from your tiptoes and onto the balls of your feet ended it for him. 

He could still taste the liquid on your tongue, feel your lips against his, and hear the way you moaned his name, the way he took your breath away. Now, you were looking up at him with innocent eyes, wide and glittering and he knew that he couldn’t wait any longer, and so with that, your hips met his shoulder as he hoisted you from the ground, arms wrapped securely around your exposed thighs, the smirk on his face prominent as you out up no fight, no squirming in his arms, just dropped your cup and held into his shirt. 

Those Kisses that Don’t Intend to Lead to More (but always do)

With a sigh, you pulled your hair up into a ponytail, laying out flat on the ground, sweat leaving a sheer layer on your skin. The sun was beating down and you were hard at work, your shirt sticking to you, throat dry, just like everyone else. 

Work had taken a serious slow down, and you were trying to pick up the slack of the ever-growing number of people with heatstroke and sunburn that neglected them from work. Wiping the back of your hand over your head, you stood up, rolling your neck from side to side and cracking open your eyes, a smile on your lips as you shielded your eyes from the sun, watching Bellamy make his way over to you with two cups full of water in his hands. 

He had forgone a shirt a while ago, like a lot of the men, but you couldn’t help but look at him. Chest shining, muscles flexing with every action he did, freckles dotted across taut skin, he was like a perfect wet dream, and you were grateful you were allowed to openly look at him, you could only imagine how many girls were stealing small glances in hope of neither of you catching their wandering eyes.

Handing you a cup, he took a deep swig from his own, and you followed, eyes closing at the relief of the liquid meeting your parched mouth. Lowering the cup from your lips, Bellamy had already done so, watching you with a soft smile. A small bead was hanging from his lip, and before he could wipe it away, you leaned up, taking his glistening bottom lip between yours and sucking gently. 

His eyes widened, hand rapidly trying to place his drink down as his hands found your waist, lips puckering to return the kiss you were giving him. Tongue pushing past your lips, he played with yours, smirking into the kiss at being able to tease you as much as you were teasing him. Pulling away, his eyes were locked on yours, pupils blown and he scanned over your face, eyes finding your swollen lips, and flushed cheeks.

“It’s like, midday. We absolutely can’t. There is so much to be done.” He mumbled, having to literally force himself to drag his eyes away from your lips, by turning away to face the half-built fencing beside you. Hearing a solid agreement from you, he ran a hand through his hair roughly, trying to focus and letting out a breath he didn’t know he had. 

Making the mistake of glancing up, he watched you flip your hair over your shoulder, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you leant over, tits falling forwards as you did, almost spilling from your top. “Fuck it.” The words left his mouth quietly, and as you opened your mouth to ask what he said, his mouth descended onto yours, silencing you with a passionate kiss, hands slipping straight around to squeeze at your ass as he pushed you backwards, walking you out of sight of other people.

Locking a foot around your ankle, he let you fall back into the long grass with a soft thud, your eyes wide as he looked down at you, undoing the buckle on his belt. “What, here?” He could see the shock on your face as you popped yourself up on your elbows, and he reached behind his head, tugging his shirt up over his head and removing it once his belt had come loose.

“Yep.” His grin was wicked, and he dropped to his knees, falling forwards and pinning you to the grass, the sun beating down on his back as you fell into his touch, his kiss, not caring who might decide to come and check on the two of you at some point.

Angry Kisses

It wasn’t you that he was really angry at, it was himself. But he’d already taken it out on his sister, on Clarke, on everyone on the ring, and now, now he was just brewing in silence while looking out of the window at a decimated earth. He hadn’t spoken to you for days, just sent you heated glares, filled with longing and need at you from across the room, but his heart and pride didn’t allow him to talk to you yet. 

Deep down within him, you knew he was still just the same barely-a-man Bellamy that had come down with you so long ago, taking control of the camp and the delinquents. Of course he had changed, but he still loved with everything in him and gave all he had. He just wanted to be in control and safety for once in his life.

Watching him move about, his shoulder shoved roughly into Murphy’s as he stormed from the room, and your eyebrows furrowed as he didn’t even look back to apologise, and yet even Murphy knew not to test him right now. Getting to your own feet, you padded over, placing a hand on John’s shoulder and apologising on your boyfriend’s behalf, not missing the angry look shot both your ways at the contact as he rounded the corner. 

Chasing to catch up with him, you slipped into the room you were sharing just before the door shut, and you heard the heavy sigh that left his lips merely at your presence. When he made to walk away, however, your fingers wrapped around his wrist, bringing him to a stop, before he roughly yanked his arm from your grip, pulling you forwards roughly as he did, underestimating how tight your grip was. 

With a gasp, you raised your hand to your shoulder, rubbing at it gently, and he spun around to face you, guilt swimming in his eyes as but anger still bubbling under the surface, rage painted on his features. “You-” gritting his teeth, you knew the storm he’d been brewing for a few days was about to break loose, “You were fully prepared to leave me.”

“Bel-”

“No!” His eyes finally met yours, tears lining them, and yet flames still burnt aggressively within them “You.. you weren’t even going to say goodbye! You were going to waltz off with a smile on your face and a ‘see you soon’ with no intention of coming back! Back to me!” His chest was heaving and you clenched your jaw, the insinuation angering you. 

“That is not what happened and you fucking know it!” You snapped, turning away from him and pacing the room, hands squeezed tightly into balls, fingernails digging into the palms of your hands as you tried not to shake, knowing you needed to stand your ground. “Everything that could have gone wrong with that damn satellite did, Bellamy! Me and Clarke had one job, it should have taken less than five minutes, and in reality, my best friend is dead, and almost me too!” His eyes softened as he watched you, his own heart aching at the loss of such a good friend. He’d found it so hard to close that door, to say goodbye when he wanted to hang on, but when he’d seen you come stumbling back in with a tear-streaked face, he knew he had no choice, but it didn’t excuse it.

“That is no reason for you to-”

“To what, Bellamy? Give up myself so she could live? I couldn’t lose any more friends Bellamy, I loved her like a sister! She was your friend too, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else! You shouldn’t have lost her!” You cried, wiping away the tears spilling down your cheeks as he took a step towards you, hands tightly woven into his hair.

“What makes you think I could’ve lost you?” The silence around you both was deafening and you swallowed thickly, taking a shaky breath, while his shoulders rose and fell rapidly as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “I love you more than anything, on earth or up here, and you-” cutting him off, you pulled his lips down to meet yours, wet cheeks pressing to his hot and flushed ones, his teeth biting into your bottom lip as he marched you into the wall, the cool surface meeting your back roughly. 

It was all tongue and teeth as he tugged at the shirt on your body, ripping it over your head, barely breaking away for the action, before repeating wit his own, your hands smoothing along the skin of his chest, traces the littered scars he’d gained from your time on the planet. 

“I can’t lose you. Don’t- don’t leave me.” His words were ragged and spoken angrily, but you cupped his cheek, pulling your lips from his as he captured them once again. 

“I promise. I couldn’t. I don’t know how to.” He let his lips trail down along your neck, sucking angrily at your skin and leaving wet, red marks that would soon blossom into purple ones as he guided you towards the bed, his lips never leaving your skin.

Middle of the Night Kisses

After everything you’d all been through on earth, nightmares weren’t uncommon. One minute you’d be falling asleep happily in Bellamy’s arms and the next you’d be waking up in a cold sweat and kicking the sheets from your legs. 

You’d spent the better part of the night lying awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling as Bellamy slept beside you. You were exhausted, but you were afraid to close your eyes. Every time you did, you saw the bunker full of your friends burning to the ground. You couldn’t help it, you couldn’t help but assume the worst, and the images were haunting you every time you closed your eyes. 

With tears lining your eyes, you rose your hands to cover your face, muffling your sobs as you tried to contain them, to be as still as possible and not wake the sleeping man beside you, who was finally getting some sleep of his own. Fingers wrapped around your wrists, pulling your palms from your face and as you met his twinkling eyes in the dark, you could see the pity on his features, the understanding. Using his thumb to smooth away the tears, he pressed a gentle and sleepy kiss to your lips, pecking your nose, each of your cheeks and then your forehead. 

Curling into his body, you cried freely against him, face buried in his neck as he simply held you, fingers running through your hair and massaging your scalp, easing you into silence as you hiccuped occasionally, steadying your crying and easing you down until it was just steady breaths. 

Nightmares weren’t an uncommon thing, for either you or Bellamy, but when they did happen, it was easiest to just hold one another and kiss away the worries until the sun came around the earth, light flooding into the room and a new day starting. 

[lucidpantone]

Visitations Preview Finale pt. 1

This finale chapter is getting so long so as a gift I thought I give you guys the first 5k. 

Disclaimer: Same rules apply.

Italics is the past. If not, it's August 15th.

His atop a precipice.

A vantage point where all things come into view.

Where the decision to plunge himself into the abyss invites him in like a gaping wound but he chooses the latter a dance around the hardwood.

A dance.

Is that all it is?

Love and life a mere tango between two forms battling for governance; for the lead. The notion of control dangling in the air like some token of chance, a lucky charm, a rabbit’s foot. He’s frozen. Paused. In mid-air transition.

A live wire at a stop light waiting for the green. A brethren of the craniate in the peril of deoxygenation, mere seconds away from contorting his skeletal structure into hyperextensions.

He inhales.

Shoulder and neck slanted on an incline. He pushes towards gravity and lets the slab of maple [swish] the surface. The wheels of his board drawing everlasting as he brushes figure eights. The male body truncating in the air like an oversized bolt drilling down a sealed vault. His thoughts [swirling] through him like a polar jet stream. Icy and ferocious. Early day discussions on fast forward and repeat.

“I need my meds recalibrated doc” Sander mumbles out.

“Hmmmm” The doc sounds apprehensive.

“It looks like you have had a recalibration every year for the past 3 years.” The doc thumbs through Sander’s medical chart.

“Are you sure this isn’t a symptom of all the stress you’ve been under? The grand opening tonight? The financial pressures?”

“NO!….I mean yes, but no, I’ve been edgier than usual but that's not why” Sander states adamantly.

“Plus, I'm having trouble sleeping.” Sander tacks that one for good measure knowing if anything they will re-up his sleeping aids.

They weren’t all lies he thought to himself as he swung like a pendulum from side to side on the crown jewel. Loud cheers and celebratory adorations coming from the gallery space; breaking him out of his reflections. He can’t avoid the crowd much longer. The party is in full swing and he needs to go make the rounds. Poetic discussions about his vision await him; descriptions about the counter duality of dark and light, functional or utilitarian, for profit versus non profit but he wasn’t in the mood. He was proud of himself, he knew that much and though he relished in his attendees jovial shoulder taps and glass raises it all felt empty. His exterior soaked up in white lies when questioned about the space's interior. His slapstick smile perfected to compliment his  pheasant plumage as he peacocked around the room; hosting duties increasingly onerous as the guest list questioned him about the young hot shot architect that he had collabed with to create such an impressive view.

“Can we meet him?” They’ll ask, but they won't be able to.

He bailed, or so that’s what he texted Sander that morning. His usual slew of excuses that he hid behind as to why he couldn’t make it back to Antwerp. Back to Sander. Same reasons as to why he’d always be the first to drop off on a conference call between him, Sander and the contractors. Why he’d walk the space with everyone but his counterpart. Purposefully avoiding displays of patronage or binary settings on life’s stage. An agenda via obstruction; creating an alternative universe in which the skater boy and his artist were destined to miss each other every time.

As Sander continued to surf the half pipe the laws of thermodynamics began to dilute his intentions. Velocity and gravity leaving him as the wheels underneath screeched to a halt cutting off the tracings of eternity he had swiveled onto the plywood.

It was time for the dog and pony show.

Time to hot trot around man made obstacles displaying prowess in form. Sander kicked up his board and walked off the ramp’s flat and jumped down onto the cement floor. Leaving the amber coated world that housed a statuesque half pipe in the backdrop with the autograph R+S marred onto its body when he heard the [click] of a lock. He’s body instinctively flinched as the knob to the door twisted open and the sounds from the other world serenaded their shangri-la.

Sander took a step back as a shadowy figure emerged from the darkness of the tattoo shop’s working space. Hues of black splaying across the cement finish. Sander’s eyesight travelled from the floor to the figure holding onto the door and gave a mocked laugh in disbelief.

Robbe took another step forward, let go of the door, and let it slam shut. Instantly killing off the volume from the outside. Entering the space where the other half of a war torn love story survived.

The story of a pair of star crossed lovers enveloped in a love quagmire.

-

Robbe cranked the lever.

The car door flew open.

“Careful there. If you don’t treat it well you’re going to break it” Luc teased out to Robbe.

Robbe pushed himself off Luc’s ride, his body seesawing between two worlds when he stepped out onto the pavement.

The night was inviting. The spirits of the dead were amongst the living. Or so, that's how the legend goes..

Of course Sander would choose ole hallows eve to host his Grand Opening. It was fitting for him. A night wrapped up in the witching hour. Where the spirits of the past are able to walk side by side amongst those prepared to sin. Unknown entities, ghouls and those who feed off the darkness of others dancing around the room whispering bad intentions into well intentioned beings.

This night was a trap but neither of them knew it yet.

“Can you hold this?” Robbe asked Luc as he handed him two black frames wrapped up carefully with black tissue paper to protect the glass from any scratches. He took a moment to fix his black shirt and ruffled out his black mid length pea coat and then took back the frames off Luc’s hands.

Robbe noticed Luc’s slight displeasure at his primping and quickly readjusted the frames underneath his right arm and went to grab Luc’s hand with his left.

“Hey don’t get in your head. Ten minutes and we are in and out and then we can go to dinner with my mother. I know it's weird but Jann is a client who owns a ton of other businesses and it’d be stupid of me to mess up future possibilities. This is strictly business nothing else.”

“Promise?” Luc questioned.

Robbe narrowed his brow and tilted his head to one side in an inquisitive manner.

“Don’t you trust me?”

Luc tipped his head downwards and plastered on a fake smile in agreement. Luc squeezed his lover’s hand and they walked towards the shop's facade as the Halloween vibes speed skated around them and the veil between two worlds began to thin.

“ROBBEEEE!!!!!” Jann screams out amongst the crowd.

“You came” Robbe gives Jann a little wave as he walks over to Robbe clearly a little intoxicated enjoying the celebrations. Jann was the majority investor in Sander’s tattoo shop and someone he and Sander had known for years. Jann was practically a giant. He towered over the crowd at 6’5ft (195cm). He claimed his height was a genetic trait of being born in Eindhoven. He was in his mid fifties but you would never be able to tell. He was covered in full sleeve tattoos and wore his black t-shirt and leather pant uniform everyday since the first day Robbe met him on his 18th birthday.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It was such a pleasure working with you.” Robbe schmoozed him.

“Jann this is my boyfriend Luc. Luc this is Jann he is the investor in this project and the poor soul who trusted me not to mess it all up” Jann roared out a half drunken laugh and gave Robbe a slightly to forceful pat on the back.

Jann leaned into Robbe’s neck which caused Luc to raise a brow and began whispering secrets at a low volume.

“We got approved” Jann confirmed. Robbe looked up at him and pointed his index finger downward towards the white floor of the gallery space. Jann shook his head in confirmation and continued to add on.

“And the community park license so we can teach lessons out back in the skate park” Robbe’s face lit up like a light bulb. He never thought the crazy plan he concocted months ago would actually work. His idea to try to register the gallery and public park as charity spaces actually came through and most importantly saved Jann a ton of money meaning he wouldn’t try to refurbish them into business spaces anytime soon.

Robbe scanned his white surroundings in attempts to find a mop of lunar hair sticking out but nothing in sight.

Jann noticed Robbe scanning the room so he pointed him towards the back.

Robbe excused himself for a moment and as he walked towards the back of the tattoo shop Jann yelled out.

“Robbe don’t forget about our appointment to cover up that shoulder tattoo. It's on the house.”

Robbe didn’t even acknowledge Jann as he transitioned from the white gallery space to the tattoo shops black working space. His all black outfit practically blended him into the wall paint. He got to the back door and twisted the handle. It was locked.

He twisted the bolt and heard it click.

As he pushed his body into the third space the amber earth tones consumed him and as serendipity should have it Sander was waiting for him.

Robbe took one more step forward and let the back door slam shut. It felt like all of sudden him and Sander were stuck in zero gravity.

In some type of suction vacuum where oxygen was limited.

“Hi” Robbe tried to cheerfully break the ice but that was short lived.

“What are you doing here? I thought you bailed?” Sander’s tone was loaded with so much poison that it stung Robbe.

“Well I changed my mind. I thought it’d be nice to finally see the finished product. You know since Jann, you and I have spent so many months working on it.”

Robbe was nervous. He kept fiddling with the frames. It felt like Sander’s gaze was dismantling him.

“It looks great by the way. The contractors did a great job. I mean it looked great when I walked the space last month with them but it's really impressive now that it's all done.”

“You were totally right about keeping the layout white, black and into earth tones. Oh and I brought you a gift.”

Robbe tired to hand Sander the frames but Sander made a hands all full gesture as he held up his Element skateboard. Sander walked over to a table that looked like it had been set up for drinks placement and slid his board underneath it.

“Just put the frames on top. I’ll grab them later.” Sander directed Robbe.

“I didn’t know you still had the old Element I brought you.” Robbe stated.

“Old habits die hard.” Sander threw back at him.

Robbe just shook his head up and down in agreement.

Robbe looked out towards the ramp and just took it all in for a moment.

“Remember when we went to go get this thing from that crazy guy in Ghent…..” and before Robbe could even finish the story Sander cut him off.

“I thought you were here for business? Or are you ready to go down memory lane now?” Sander’s tone made it very clear that he wasn’t in the mood for Robbe’s fake banter.

Robbe turned his body to look directly at Sander. It always took both of them aback how each other's gaze always felt like they were baring their souls to one another.

Robbe and Sander could find so much tranquility in one another and yet so much turbulence at the same time.

Robbe finally broke the silence.

“I should have told you about my boyfriend”

Sander’s eyes widened and he bit his bottom lip. Robbe recognized this gesture; Sander was pissed.

“So, why didn’t you?” Sander shot back.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you cared. You never called me after the last time I saw you.”

Sander enunciated the next part.

“I DIDN’T CALL YOU?”

He then repeated himself again.

“I DIDN’T CALL YOU?”

“I am sorry that I’ve been busy trying to make one of the most important business deals of my life happen and didn’t have the time to fucking wait on you hand and foot.”

Sander ran his hands over his face to calm his temper. His cup runneth over with emotion.

“If you weren’t so damn selfish you would have realized I am stressed out of my damn mind. I literally have no money because I sunk it all into the shop and that I could easily lose everything if things don’t go well but of course you wouldn’t get that since you’ve never made those types of sacrifices for anything in your life.”

Robbe was really biting his tongue. He knew Sander was just stressed out and venting at him but Sander knew very well that Robbe had made those types of sacrifices time and time again for him above anyone/anything else.

“I think I should go” Robbe stated.

“I think you should go too. We should try to keep this little arrangement copacetic.”

Robbe turned his body to head for the door when Sander just couldn’t leave it alone.

“You were never one to stay anyways”

Robbe turned back to look at him knowing very well that Sander was harping on their esoteric love sonnet.

“I always knew you didn’t really have any fight in you” Sander was just slicing knife wounds in Robbe now and they both knew it.

“You know why I didn’t call…..”

Robbe looked straight at Sander. His beautiful brown eyes pleading with him to stop. Sander was starting to drag their love into purgatory but his impulsive need to punish Robbe apexed and Sander ran the spite laced knife right through Robbe’s heart.

“You were right. There is no us.”

He was reveling in the pain.

“There hasn’t been for a long time….and there’ll never be again.”

Sander drew out the knife from Robbe’s heart.

His hands coated in disgrace allowing his love to bleed out right in front of him.

It surprised Sander when he saw Robbe’s eyes darken and glaze over. It scared him. He got the reaction he wanted but seeing it materialize in front of him instantly made him want to take Robbe in his arms and tell him that he didn’t mean it but before he could even react Robbe ran out the door. Practically running over Jann in the process.

“Where is Robbe going?” Jann questioned.

“I told him it would probably be better if he left. He’s just so selfish”, Sander answered back.

“What?” Jann looked genuinely astonished.

“Jann stay out of it. It's none of your business.” Sander forgot who he was talking to.

“Look, I’ve known you two since you were a pair of teenagers getting sappy tattoos for one another so whatever it is, fix it, but more importantly this is my shop. So everything that concerns it is my business. Do you understand that? ”

Jann rarely took on the authoritarian stance he was exuding now. So Sander knew he meant it.

“I understand”

“Good because tomorrow I am calling Robbe and offering him the Brussels project for next year and if you happen to not fuck up before then I may get you in on it too”

Sander gave Jann a head tip in understanding.

Jann heads for the door to leave Sander to stew when he decides to teach him a lesson.

“Oh and next time, why don’t you check the books before calling someone selfish. That selfish kid ran around for months trying to get the right paperwork so we could get on the right registry to save thousands in taxes and his boss called me today letting me know he forfeited his personal architect fee. Something about he had a prior agreement with you that he wanted to honor.”

Point taken.

Sander practically felt like Jann had slugged him in the face. He quickly exited the amber coated world and ran past the black and into the white gallery space. Sander could hear he’s friends calling out his name and people tugging at him to get his attention but he just wanted to catch up with  Robbe before he left.

He finally made it outside but the street was empty, dead, comatose.

“Fuck” Sander yelled out in frustration.

“You just missed him” Sander turned around to find the voice speaking to him.

A brown-eyed beauty stood in front of him. You’d swear she could be a doppelganger for a young Zendaya.

She walked towards Sander.

“Good looking guy with great hair in all black right?”

“Yea” Sander confirmed.

“Yea he jumped in a taxi with some tall guy about 2 minutes before you ran out.”

“Thanks”

“No problem…. You look like you need a drink”

“I do, are you buying?” Sander flirted back lightly.

“Well if you mean am I inviting you to the free bar then yes am buying”

Sander threw the pretty girl a smile.

“Sander, by the way” he held his hand out to her.

“Genade” she slipped her hand into his.

“Come on let's go get you that drink” Genade joked out as she dragged Sander back into his own shindig.

-

White walls.

Bareless ceilings.

Sleep, it was simply a stranger to him. He grabbed his phone and checked the screen. Nothing. No calls, no text, he’d even take a voicemail cussing him out at this point but nothing made him feel more like a piece of shit then seeing the blue light of the witching hour (3am) looking back at him. He rested the phone on his chest and Sander could swear in that moment the weight of the world was on top of him.

He turned his cheek to the other side of the bed to check if Genade was fast asleep. She was, Sander wasn’t sure how this night had unraveled so suddenly and how he found himself in bed with such a beautiful creature and yet still left so unsatisfied. He slid out of bed carefully and managed to somehow find his boxers in the dark of the night.

He twisted the door knob to his bedroom open as carefully as possible not to wake her. Once he heard the click of the lock as he closed it shut his entire body relaxed. He walked into his kitchen to get a glass of water and as he walked passed his kitchen table the black frames caught his attention. They just sat there waiting to be opened.

Sander had been so wrapped up in his own unconscious revenge that he had missed Robbe’s white flag of surrender. He picked up the first black frame and began to tear at the tissue. It was Robbe’s first initial blueprint of the tattoo shop which included the skate park. Sander could still recall how excited and nervous he was to pitch the added addition but that he was adamant that it would compliment the whole vision of the space while additionally giving young kids a place of refuge. He even whipped up one of his guilt trips when he asked Sander why he didn't think it was important to provide a place where young boys like them could find one another.

Sander gulped down the memory.

He put the frame down and picked up the second frame. He tore off the paper and when he saw it looking back at him he literally felt the spit laced knife dig into his chest. He practically stopped breathing for a moment. He pulled off the white post-it off the frame that read We made it happen in Robbe’s hand writing and behind it encased in time was the white napkin that Sander had used to map out his dream tattoo shop all those years ago sitting across the booth from Robbe. In that moment Sander felt like he hit rock bottom and he didn’t care that it was 3 a.m. or that what he was about to do was far from appropriate because all he could think of is that he needed to hear Robbe’s voice. Luckily he had brought his phone with him from the bedroom; call it instinct or intuition but something made him take it with him. He texted Robbe immediately.

Are you awake? - Sander

Sander was sure Robbe wouldn’t text back after all the horrible things he had said to him just hours earlier but something deep inside him told him not all hope was lost and before he started to whirlpool into panic his phone vibrated.

Yes - Robbe

Can I call you? Please… - Sander

Two minutes went by..

K - Robbe

Sander never thought the ring of a phone could make him feel so nauseous but he felt like his heart was in his stomach when he heard Robbe’s voice on the other end. It was practically a whisper…

“Hey”

“Am a fucking asshole. All the shit I said to you tonight, I didn’t mean it. I mean I did but am frustrated. I never thought this is how we would end up. I just don’t understand why you didn’t talk to me about your boyfriend after everything…… I don’t know I just thought……. We had agreed…..”

Sander could hear Robbe sigh out on the other end of the line.

“I just want you to be happy, baby. I don’t care if it's with me or not….”

Robbe didn’t react to Sander’s statement so he continued.

“I opened up your frame. I can’t believe you kept that dirty old napkin for the last 5 years.”

“6 years” Robbe corrected him.

“Yeah…. 6 years.” Sander forced out a sweet toned chuckle.

The line went quiet for a moment.

“You still there?” Sander asked.

“Yea”

“Thank you for registering the space. Thank you for figuring out the tax credit thing. Jann won’t shut up about how I introduced him to the best architect he has ever worked with. Thank you for…..”

Sander started to get choked up, so he composed himself before he continued.

“Thank you for chipping in. You didn’t owe me that”

“I did actually. I promised you I’d find a way, remember?” Robbe questioned.

Sander just ran the palm of his hand on his forehead and through his hair recalling the promise Robbe made to him so long ago. 

“And you always keep your promises” Sander tacked on.

“Always” Robbe confirmed.

“Can I ask for one last one?”

“Sander….” Robbe sounded slightly dejected.

“Whatever happens..I love you. That’s all that matters. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Okay?”

“Sand--”

“Please” Sander pleaded.

“Promise” Robbe agreed not knowing then that to fulfill this promise he would need to forsake another.  

The silence crept back in. Sander knowing the call was nearing its end. So he said his final words.

“I am so happy that I found you. That we got the time we got together and that we are one of the few people in the world that can actually say they found their soulmate.”

5 seconds of silence filled up the call.

“I love you baby. I always will. Am so sorry I hurt you tonight.” Sander added on.

“I….. I….” Robbe false started but he was so close to getting off the blocks in that moment and running towards the finish line but he faltered.

Then doubt took a hold of him.

“I have go now” Robbe stated, and before Sander could even respond he hung up the phone.

Once Sander heard the dial tone go dead he walked over to his couch and plopped down. He grabbed his sketch pad off the coffee table and began to draw the design that would go above his heart.

Robbe just looked down at his finger laying over the end call button and stood there in silence.

He wasn’t sure what he had just done but it all happened so fast.

His body and mind had completely shut down hearing Sander say those words to him. He stood there in his living room in between two minds. A big part of him wanted nothing but to call Sander back and tell him how much he loved him too. Another part of him was so angry that they were in this position. Robbe had done everything he could in his life to protect them from the world but he never planned that the thing that would ultimately tear them apart would be each other. He crossed his arms over his chest and sat down on his couch. He leaned forward slightly and rested his elbows on the top of his thighs. His thoughts made him anxious. Made him press his palms together and scratch his nails on the surface of his left hand.

Robbe took a big inhale and as he exhaled out all his doubts got caught up in his throat and he began to cough up sobs. Hot tears began to stream out of him and like the collapse of a dam the water pressure broke the walls of his interior. He crumbled. He just fell on his side and curled up like a young child. He buried his cries on the couch pillow and cried himself to sleep and in this moment of his despair Robbe felt Bowie come over and lie down next to him.

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

There’s a void at the heart of the universe.

A place where space and time collide. Where the boundary lines of the event horizon can be found. Where a choice lies to leave the remnants of the mother, or to enter the ergosphere; the grey place where time ceases to exist and everlasting is a perpetual promise.

Man has sensed the presence of the black mass for quite some time but only until recently did we find ourselves asking: if no light can emanate from within then should we defy the gods? and cross into a plane that could potentially spaghettify the human body: two faces, four arms and four legs pulled into threaded form. A fruitless purgatory? or maybe, all together something else, an unknown, an entry door to another universe.  

The lovers essence is mirrored here; splashed across the buildings exterior as they stumbled out of their metallic cocoon placed into park. They dance atop the asphalt in embrace; need, and desire. A rendezvous of their lips tangled up in an act of amnesty. The automatic lightening levers flicker into automation. The sulfur vapor caresses their skin as they stand outside the apartment entry door. Robbe fumbles through a set of nickel, copper and brass finally identifying his right to pass. His hands are shaking suddenly, his body aware of his nervous system, reacting to what’s sure to come, their unspoken contract. Sander notices the delay and comes up behind him. He places his palm on top of Robbe’s hand and begins to guide it towards the keyhole. Robbe takes note of the fact that his Casio watch is looking right back at him. The dials in full functional spin.

Robbe unknowingly holds his breath as Sander assists him in unlocking the entry door. The [click] of the lock makes Robbe flinch. He isn’t sure why but suddenly he feels the axis shift. Robbe has no time to wallow in his concerns as he and Sander stumble into the lobby’s backdrop. The vapor wash has vanished and they find themselves amongst the whitest of all fluorescent lighting. It gives off a celestial feeling. The change of ambiance is almost cleansing. Sander focuses his attention on a chunk of real estate on the lobby floor it once served as temporary housing on the night Robbe jumped in between worlds. He smiles at the thought that he sat there that night, pen to paper calling on the properties of general relativity. Yearning for a distortion in time, a tear, an entryway. He disregards that flashback quickly as he senses Robbe’s shadow dance on screen. He grabs Robbe’s hand without much thought and the duo rush into the steel vault like a pair of runway bandits. The interior of their metal forge covered in a reflective surface. Sander navigates the route and makes his floor selection. As they travel from south to north they inch closer to their glass ceiling they run through their usual rolodex of the familiar. Violent pants interrupted by wet kisses, eager petting complimented by hair pulling, a bareless ceiling being balayage(d) by photo negatives that echo past dealings but the denominator of time begins to unravel and they are interrupted. The vault doors swing open.

Times up now.

They’ve arrived.

[ranger-jedi-knight]

A New Hero Ch 20

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/63315655 Taglist: @bluesimani

Ok so here’s the next chap!! The MUCH AWAITED SHIP WILL SAIL!!! ( ;) ) Anyways, I won’t make you wait any longer, ENJOY!!!

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Mari asked with a tilt of her head. Seeing her do that, Damian had to glance away for a bit to keep himself from blushing which was weird for him.

He didn’t blush.

At least......

He didn’t before her.

“I....” he started but then trailed off. He was so used to knowing what to do. How to take someone down. How to outwit his opponent. But. he didn’t know what to do now. How could he? While Jon worked on his relations side with Mari, he didn’t learn how to deal with feelings. With a breath he decided being blunt would be best, nothing to hide and just tell her how he felt. And hope that she returns his feelings. Oh, this must be how Jon felt before he confessed to Chloe and Adrien, he realized, making a slight face unconsciously which had Mari looking at him concerned.

“Dami?” she asked softly and Damian realized she saw and that more than a minute had passed since he first uttered ‘I’.

“Yes, I need to tell you this. I’m just trying to figure out how to say it, is all,” he admitted and Mari nodded understanding. With a deep breath, he forged onward. “Marinette, I don’t know how or when, but you have invaded my thoughts for this past year without me even knowing it. I care very deeply for you. Would you be willing to go out on a date with me?” he asked, watching her face as different things flashed by as she processed what he said.

He likes me! He really does! They were right! God, Chloe was right. All this time? she thought, her mouth opening and closing a few times as it finally registered that this was real. She started nodding frantically with a big smile.

“I really like you as well, Dami! I was too scared to say something tho,” Mari admitted quickly, shutting her eyes a bit embarrassed. Damian smiled softly as he pulled Mari into a hug. Startling her from her thoughts was his soft laugh as she then wrapped her arms around him as well.

“How about tonight? You have the day off,” he said and Mari nodded. “Ok, I’ll pick you up at 6 then,” he whispered and Mari pulled back with a smile and stood on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his cheek before pulling away with a breathless smile.

“Sounds perfect,” she whispered, trailing her hands to his and tangling their fingers together. Damian had a soft smile as he raised their conjoined hands up and pressed a kiss to her fingers. A blush dusted her cheeks, highlighting the sparse freckles she had over her cheeks and nose. Leaning her head against his arm, they walked back to the group, a dopey smile on her lips.

“Congrats Mari!” Lila said running over to hug Mari tightly as the others made their way over and congratulated them as well. “I’m so happy for you,” she continued and Mari smiled as she nodded agreement.

“I am too,” she said softly as her friends had soft smiles on their faces. “So, when are you going to ask out him?” Mari asked with a teasing tone causing her friend to blush. Damian chuckled softly from beside her.

“I assume you’re talking about Xan?” he asked and the group nodded as Lila squeaked and nodded. “Let me tell you this, you know what he’s been thru, at least part of it, you better not break his heart. Especially, if he decides to tell you more about what he has been thru. Got it?” Damian asked giving her a look. Lila swallowed the lump in her throat as she nodded understanding.

“O-ok. Promise,” she said softly and Damian gave a short nod at that.

“It’s getting close to lunch, is Xan available?” Mari asked looking over at Damian with a tilt of her head.

“I imagine he’s talking to someone we were both close to then right now. We can go see if he is available,” Damian said and the group nodded.

“Let’s go see. Where is he?” she asked as Damian started leading them out of the park.

“He’s at a store called Rose Petal’s Boutique talking with Rae, a woman from our past,” Damian replied and Mari nodded.

“Is it to help him heal?” Kim asked that time, knowing that sometimes talking to someone who’s had a similar experience can help.

“In a way, yes,” Damian started with a nod as they stopped at an intersection to wait for the light. “Fu helped him, but talking about it with someone who had something similar is better. Because then you know someone knows how you feel and sometimes able to offer insight to something you may not have realized,” he continued and Kim nodded agreement as they started walking once more.

“Hope this woman can help him, man,” Kim muttered softly as he returned the squeeze he felt Max give his hand.

“She can,” Damian assured as they got closer to the boutique. They soon reached it, the group looking at it with nods at the design. It was the typical design for most Gotham buildings, a few cracks here and there. But the sign was a vibrant white with the name of the boutique in a swirling deep red color like the Freedom Red Rose. Rose petals were scattered across the sign as if in a wind, a few interacting with the name as if connecting the letters.

A window display showed a few creations the boutique had but the inside was hidden from view by a divider. Etched around the edges of the glass was the same rose petal design. Damian opened the door, a bell chiming in response to the door swinging into the building. Mari and Damian entered the shop while the rest of them waited outside.

“Hello! Welcome to Rose Petal’s Boutique! How can I help you?” a woman asked moving toward them.

“I was hoping to speak to Rae, please. Is she in the back?” Damian asked and the woman nodded.

“Of course. Be warned she is talking to another person,” the woman warned and Damian nodded before leading Mari to the back. There he knocked once before pushing the door open. Sharp, deep green eyes looked over at them when the door opened. Her right nostril had a rose-gold colored piercing and the middle of her lip had a matching colored ring going thru it. Her hair was pulled back into a messy pony-tail with a rose clip holding back some of her bangs. A smile painted her lips when she realized who it was. “Damian. It’s so good to see you again,” she greeted happily pulling him into a brief hug before looking over at Mari. “Who’s this?” she asked, smiling softly at seeing the two glance at each other before blushing.

“This is Marinette, Rae. The girl I was telling you about,” he said and Rae smiled as she pulled Mari into a hug.

“Hello, Marinette. It’s nice to meet you. Damian and Xan talk a lot about you,” Rae said smiling teasingly as Xan rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think I should be included since well, I just talked about her,” he pointed out and Rae waved her hand at that.

“No matter. Now, what can I do for you two?”

“We came by to see if Xan, and you, would like to go get some lunch with Mari and her friends,” Damian said as Mari nodded eagerly and Rae smiled softly at that, sending Damian a subtle look that Mari missed but Xan caught as Damian looked away, the faintest of blushes on his cheeks.

“I’d love to go, but after my shift, I need to head over to my restaurant to speak with the builders. I don’t get a lunch break, sorry,” Rae said and Damian nodded, looking over at Xan.

“I’d like that,” Xan said moving from his spot. As they headed into the main shop area Rae stopped them.

“I fully expect to see you and all your friends at the grand opening of Janat Al'Amal next week,” she said and the group nodded.

“I’ll even bring Jason with, I’m sure he’d enjoy your food,” Damian said and Rae chuckled with a shake of her head.

“Don’t hesitate to visit!” Rae called out one last time before the closed behind them. Damian raised a hand in acknowledgment.

“Xan!” Lila beamed as she made her way over to him and hugged him in greeting. Xan had a soft smile on his lips as he hugged Lila back before greeting the others with either hugs or handshakes.

“So, where are we off too?” Xan asked looking between everyone.

“How about a cafe?” Mari suggested and the group nodded.

“Sounds perfect,” Damian replied, squeezing her hand before leading them to a cafe nearby.

“Xan....I think we have some stuff that we should talk about,” Lila whispered looking up at Xan, she may have grown a bit, but she still had to crane to look. Xan tilted his head, a bit of dread filling him but he nodded. They hadn’t talked much about what she heard at the reunion between him and his sisters. They should have, but he could admit he didn’t want to.

Looks like there’s no avoiding it, he thought before nodding. “Ok, when we order our drinks and something to eat we’ll talk,” he replied just as softly. Damian and Mari glanced back to look at them before looking ahead once more. Mari rested her head against Damian’s arm once more, squeezing his hand.

“You think everything will go well?” she asked and the softest hums left Damian as he thought about it.

“From what I’ve seen of Lila, I think they’ll end up fine,” he replied softly after a bit and she nodded agreement.

“I hope so,” she agreed softly. They soon reached the cafe in question and got in line. When all the orders were made and paid for- Damian sneakily paid for all the drinks much to her friends, mostly Jon’s, annoyance, and the barista’s joy as she giggled -they scattered around the shop. Nino and Sabrina found a couch to chat and was joined by Chloe, Adrien, and Jon. Kim and Max were nearby at a table.

Damian and Mari were a bit farther from them at a table for two. Mari was smiling shyly at Damian as they talked about their date that night.

Xan smiled as he pulled Lila’s chair out for her and pushed it in when she sat down. “Thank you Xan,” Lila said with a small smile as Xan picked up their orders and brought them over before sitting down across from her. They were a good distance away from the others as well. He drummed his fingers along his cup as he cupped it between his hands. He was looking down at it, taking a breath before looking up at Lila once more. She could only watch as concern, nerves, worry -whatever you would call it- float around in his eyes. Such a gorgeous color, there shouldn’t be any room in those silver eyes for anything but joy, she thought to herself.

“S-so what did you want to talk about?” he asked nervously, pulling Lila out of her thoughts. As his fingers drumming increased she reached a hand over the table and covered his hand, slowly pulling it from the cup to hold it.

“Well......I think there are a few things we need to talk about,” she said slowly and Xan nodded at that.

“I’m so sorry you had to hear that. I didn’t-no-I wasn’t-” he groaned as he tried finding the correct words. “I didn’t plan on you finding out,” he got out and Lila squeezed his hand.

“Where you ever gong to tell me? I care about, Xander. A lot, and I want you to feel safe around me to tell me things. I want to help you in any way I can,” Lila replied and Xan nodded at that slowly.

“I wasn’t sure how you take it. Only Fu, Damian, and Jason really know what I went thru. I left a ton out when I told Als and Lana. I didn’t want to lose you....because of my past,” he whispered looking down into his cup before feeling Lila cupping his hand in both of hers. He looked up to see her eyes burning with a determination, making her green eyes sparkle.

“You could never lose me, Xan. You don’t have to tell me everything, I get that this was a terrible thing to happen. I could never blame you for something you couldn’t control. You did what you did to survive after being taken. All I care about is you, right here, right now. Where you’re safe and sound and breathing. I could never fault you for doing something that ensured you lived another day,” she said, squeezing his hand with every word she put stress on. A water smile decorated his lips at hearing her speech. Pulling his hand from his cup he wiped away the tears that threatened to fall as relief coursed thru him.

“Thank you,” he whispered between chuckles that escaped him. She squeezed his hand at that, happy to hear him chuckling. “I was terrified this would end with you declaring us not friends anymore.”

“That could never happen,” Lila whispered, giving him the softest smiles that he returned when he finally got himself under control.

“So, what else was it that we needed to talk about?” he asked softly and Lila bit her lip.

She wasn’t ready.

Nope.

Nada.

But could she afford to wait?

No.

If she didn’t do this now, she was worried she’d never do it. So, might as well rip the bandaid off.

“Xander....I really like you. I have for a while now. This isn’t how you’d imagine a confession, I bet. But I had to say it. I really like you and would love to go out on a date with you,” Lila said glancing thru her lashes to look at Xan’s face. Xan was looking at her a bit shocked and surprised.

She was right.

He did not expect that.

But as the shock and surprise faded, he smiled softly at her and covered one of her hands with his own. He then squeezed them prompting her to look up. “I really like you too. How about Saturday night?”

That had Lila shocked but she then beamed at him. “Saturday!” she agreed, not seeing their friends smiling over at them happily.

Almost There @proudgothamite

Well, I’ll be doing something I haven’t done in a long time. You’ll get to see it soon #oldhobby #herewego #hopethiswillbefun

Ok, so here’s the next chap!! Man, this was *quicker* than old updates lol. Ok, so, I’ll be starting online classes soon *cough whispers* n maybe moving soon again *cough*, so updates will be WEIRD. I’m givni this warnin since one of my classes game us the warning that we need to go to LIBRARIES for a few assignments......and that some(all apparently) will need at least a couple of weeks to do? So ya......that happened...and that was only ONE of my classes......so I guess.....wish me luck? Until next time!! -Love Willa<3<3<3

[shewritestheblues]

The Elevator Bae x Chapter 5

Chapter FIVE

Erik x Black OC (Phoenix)

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

Phoenix checks her phone. It’s a little after midnight. She has a few notifications from her social media but nothing important. This is her third day in a row that she’s been in the studio. She hadn’t been home except to sleep and shower and she’d be right back in the studio. Thank God for DoorDash because leaving for food was out of the question. All she could do was make music. Trap, R&B, Soul… she was making some of the best music she’s ever created. This was the most she’s used her own voice to sing on some tracks.

Her and Coby were currently working on their fourth song of the night. As Phoenix sings along to the beat, it feels like the base is moving chills through her soul. It takes her over and she does something she’s never done before. She opens Instagram, swiping right. Her tired, yet satisfied face pops up on the camera. Holding the screen to record, she lets her voice ring out. Without a care that maybe someone would disapprove. She didn’t even bother to listen back. She posted the video on her story and got back to work.

Whenever she would get stuck writing, her mind would wander off to her last moments with Erik. Their talk, their small moments of touching, that feeling, the look in his eye. He would be just what she needed to find the words needed to make her music. Coby would add a few bars in and Phoenix took note every time. She was waiting until she had used all of her inspiration to ask him about her best friend.

As the night continued and more music is being made, Phoenix saved a few songs to keep just for her. She wasn’t sure just yet what she’d do with them but she felt way too connected to them to send them to some other artist to sing. Anything else was fair game. She let one song play. It wasn’t one she’d keep but she still liked it. She played it on repeat trying to figure out who she could picture singing it.

“Yo, you know who would do right by this?” Coby asked. He leaned back, sitting on the table that sat next to Phoenix. She was so into the song, she didn’t notice he had moved from his seat on the other side of her. She stops the song, relaxing into her chair.

“Who?”

“LaShay. The one with the purple hair.”

“Yeah, I like her. She’s out of Atlanta right?”

“Yup. I’m cool with her manager. I could send it to them and see what they think.”

“Cool.” Phoenix hit play on the song again. Just listening and trying to picture the new singer’s voice. A thought hit her. Her and Coby make some amazing music together. They have never made something that flopped. Every song, every beat was always a hit.

“Coby,” she stops the music, turning her chair to him. “Have you noticed that whenever we work together, we don’t miss? Like we both have made some shit songs on some solo shit, but together, it’s always good.”

He definitely noticed. “Yeah. We’re like a dynamic duo or some shit like that. It’s funny you mention this because I was just talking to Ava about how I think we could become like a producing team. Me and You.”

JACKPOT! Phoenix’s smile grew at the sound of her best friend’s name. he brought her up so this was her moment to ask him about it.

“We could definitely pull that off. We could have a cool ass name too, like--- Or like-- Okay, I can’t think of nothing right now but we can put a pin in that. What we can talk about is Ava.”

“Oh my God, Philly! Don’t do this.” He walks over to get water from the mini fridge and sitting back in her chair on the side of her.

“We’re doing this. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What was there to tell?”

“Umm, I don’t know Coby. Maybe tell me that you like my best friend and that y’all are hanging out.” She makes quotes with her fingers.

“I’m sorry, Phoenix. I’ve been hanging out with your best friend.” he says very sarcastically.

“You are such an ass.” He shrugs. “I don’t care to know about those other girls you mess with but Ava.. that’s my girl. You know how I feel about her.”

“Yeah, I do. Which is why I was trying to wait to tell you. I already knew you were gonna be on ten about it. I wanted to see how serious this was going to be.”

“Serious? So wait, like y’all are dating, dating?”

“To me, we are. I mean, we’re still getting to know each other but so far, I like what I know.”

Phoenix squeals, pinching at Coby’s arms. Coby shakes his head, trying to hide the small smile on his lips.

---------

Erik sits in his office, staring at the book in front of him. It was his father’s book. He studied this book, front to back. He sat here, doing it again for the second time this night. He moved the ring on his necklace around his finger as he read. His breathing picked up and he could feel his anger rising quickly as he sat there. His thoughts taking him back to the very day he saw the bright lights in the sky. The day he ran upstairs to find his father dead. That day was why he is who he is today. Everything he’s done up to the point and going forward was because of that day and because of who he KNEW killed his father. It’s not everyday that someone is killed with panther claws in Oakland. He knew. Never speaking of that day with anyone. He silently planned how he would handle it.

He slammed his fist on the desk, pushing the book on the floor. Breathing heavy, he got up and headed into the kitchen. He drank a bottle of water in what seemed like one gulp. He needed air. Stepping out onto his balcony, he sat in one of the black, cushion chairs. They were modern rocking chairs and the motion of the chair moving back and forth as he closed his eyes, soothed him for the moment. The breeze hitting is bare chest cooled his hot blood. The small sounds of the night life filling the air. He rocked and rocked, until his phone buzzed in the pocket of his joggers. An unknown number texted him.

Unknown: Next Tuesday two weeks. Heading out 600hrs.

His jobs were becoming longer. Before he would be able to handle his work in a matter of days. Now, they were lasting a week and now two weeks.

With his phone now in hand, he absentmindedly goes to Instagram. At the very top of his screen, Phoenix’s profile picture glows red and orange. He taps to watch her story. He was expecting a cute picture or maybe even a boomerang, because damn that girl loves making boomerangs. But his eyes caught her in all black, her face so clear in the video as she sings. This was a few hours ago. The next part of her story was, of course, a boomerang. She was sticking her tongue out as Coby laid back against her chest, not paying any attention to the camera. Erik bit his lip and tapped the screen to go on to the next story. He couldn’t identify the slight tightness of his chest when he watched the short video. Was this jealousy? Why did this nigga have to be all up on her like that? Why was this even bothering him? Phoenix wasn’t his girl. They were just scratching the surface as neighbor friends. Erik wasn’t too familiar with jealousy. He never cared what the women he involved himself with were doing after him. He took what he wanted and that was that. There were never any feelings left for him to feel. Maybe that one time in high school, his crush had a crush on someone else but that only lasted a few hours because he found himself having sex with her friend by the end of the day. This was a new one for him and he wasn’t trying to feel that shit again.

He put his phone away, going back inside his place. Sleep wasn’t on the menu but he needed it. He took two melatonin pills and made himself get the rest he needed.

-------

The bright clock sitting in the studio read 3:45. Cobi and Phoenix were wrapping up their session. Phoenix sat on top of the large speaker, swinging her feet.

“Are you coming out to Camren’s birthday party?” she asked Coby.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Are you coming with Ava?”

Coby cuts his eye at her, catching her making kissing faces.

“See, this is why I didn’t tell you anything. But NO! Y’all coming with Ava.”

Phoenix jumps off the speaker and gathers her backpack and making sure she has everything. “Will you be coming to my show Sunday?”

“Didn’t know you had one. Where is it?”

“It’s at X again. I guess they loved me that much.” Phoenix follows Coby out of the studio, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. You know I got you,” He puts his arm around her shoulder, walking her out to her car. “You make sure you text me when you get in.”

“Okay. Night.”

He closes her car door and makes sure she’s good before getting into his own car. Being so late, Phoenix was able to get home in record time since there’s no one on the road. 15 minutes to be exact. When she made it into her apartment, she wasn’t sleepy at all. It’s after 4 am and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She scrolled up Instagram, she couldn’t find any interesting YouTube videos to watch. She was just up and bored. Well, until she thought about what she was going to wear for Camren’s party. She searched through her closet but she wasn’t focused on that at all. Her mind wandered to thinking about her hair. She looked at herself in her full length bedroom mirror at her curly ponytail. It’s been three days since she last touched her hair. She’s been sporting this pony under a dad hat since the night her and Erik went to the studio. She forgot to put on her scarf that night and woke up to dry, matted curls but refused to do anything to them.

What if I straightened it? She thought. It had been over a year since the last time she’s put any heat on it. Her curls had grew long and she was definitely curious on how it looked straight now. That’s what she was going to do. She headed to the bathroom, turning on the shower. She finally set her hair free of the ponytail and got in. She washed and conditioned her hair. She left the conditioner in while she washed her body and got out. She put on some fresh clothes before rinsing the conditioner from her hair. Now it’s time for the toughest part of straightening her hair… blow drying it. Having so much hair and it being so thick, Phoenix had to part her hair into six sections to properly spray her heat protectant in and fully blow dry her hair. This alone took an hour.

The sun was coming up now and Phoenix’s arms were ready to fall off. She still had to actually flat iron her hair. The went out to the kitchen to get some water and a few Oreos to push herself to finish. Coming back into the bathroom, she looked at her wild hair in the mirror and smiled. “We’ve come a long way hair.” She picks up her phone and takes a picture. She sends it to her friends group chat. ‘Ya girl got inches.”

She swings her hair around, dancing in the mirror, practicing what twerking would be like with her hair swinging around. She had to admit to herself how goofy she looked doing this. Once getting that out of her system, she finally began flat ironing her hair. It didn’t take as long as she thought it would. About another 45 minutes. Phoenix wrapped her hair as best as she could. It’s been over a year so her hair wasn’t really having it with her trying to comb it into a circle. But she combed and combed until she ended up with her head tilted to the side and using her whole left arm to hold most of it down. She used her right hand and front teeth to hold her scarf in place so she could slip her left hand from its secured spot and tie it around her head.

Finally getting that done, it was now well into the morning and her phone was barely surviving on 1%. She did her face routine and headed into her bedroom. Putting her phone on charge on her nightstand and climbing into bed. She laid in the middle of her six pillows and her casper mattress seem to engulf her body. This was heaven. She curled up under her thick comforter and rubbed her feet in bliss. Within minutes, sleep had taken over her.

-------

Phoenix is woken up by the sounds of construction outside. At the same time, her phone starts to ring. It’s Mica.

“Hello.” Phoenix says into the phone. Her voice is raspy and low.

“I know you’re not still sleep.” Mica’s voice sounds like she’s standing on top of phoenix.

“I’m up. I just got up.”

“What time are you going to pick up the cake?”

“Damn it!” Phoenix sits up, rubbing her face. “It’s supposed to be ready at 4.”

“You know it’s 3 o’clock right?”

“No, it’s not,” she takes the phone from her face, looking at the time. It’s for sure 3 o’clock. “Oh, it is. Shit! Okay, I'm gonna leave out now.”

“Okay. Just take it to the restaurant. Don’t worry about anything else. Me and Ava got it. I know you probably got in late. I want you to have enough time to get ready.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, dinner starts at 8. We’ll be there around 7 to pick you up.”

“Okay. I’ll text you when I got the cake.”

“Okay.”

Phoenix ends the call and jumps up from her bed. She changes into some leggings and a cropped t-shirt, completely forgetting her scarf on her head. She rushes out and magically the elevator was just opening, letting someone off on her floor. She gets in, hitting the garage button. The cabin stops and she rushes out, getting into her car and driving out.

Traffic is ridiculous as she tries to get to the bakery. Her patience is running thin and the feeling of having to rush is triggering her anxiety. Phoenix has been doing well for months with managing her anxiety. She has learned ways to keep herself calm but moments like this where she isn’t able to grasp some type of control over how things are going for her, she doesn’t do well. One second she’s hot as hell and turns her air on blast and the next minute, she’s freezing.

She been in traffic for 3o minutes, but the bakery is only 20 minutes from her apartment. Just when she thought she had come to terms with LA’s traffic, she realizes, she never will. She can feel the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Her palms are sweaty. Phoenix doesn’t want to be the reason that tonight is a fail. But she can’t help but think that she will. Her thoughts are moving a million miles a minute. She should have set an alarm. She shouldn’t have stayed at the studio that long. If things don’t go right, Camren will hate her. Phoenix takes a few deep breaths. “Relax, Phoenix, relax.” she says to herself.

Traffic began moving a little bit faster and Phoenix could finally catch her breath. She made her way to the bakery and picked up the cake without any more issues. Thankfully, Phoenix knew a back way to the restaurant to drop the cake off.

------

Ava and Mica did their best to keep Camren out of the loop by having her girlfriend, Tiana, take her out for a spa day. Camren kept texting the group chat asking questions. What are yall up to? What are we doing tonight?

Phoenix, Ava and Mica all ignored her, keeping the plans for the night in a separate text.

Ava and Mica were at the restaurant setting up decorations when Phoenix walked in with the cake. Phoenix let the hostess know she’s there to drop off the cake for later. The hostess took the cake in the back and Phoenix lead herself up to the rooftop where the dinner will take place. Walking up the stairs, she could hear Ava and Mica laughing.

“What y’all up here laughing about?” she yells, catching their attention.

“Phillyyyy!” Mica sings, walking up to her and hugging her. They rock back and forth before Ava yells out. “Cut the lovey dovey shit and help us finish so we can all go get ready.”

“Damn girl, you literally rolled out of bed didn’t you?” Mica pointed to Phoenix’s scarf.

“Yeah. I forgot I was wearing it.”

“I can’t believe you straightened it.”

“IF Y’ALL DON’T BRING Y’ALL ASS!” Ava yelled out.

An extra set of hands helped get the decorations done quick with enough time for the three of them to have time to get ready.

Phoenix made her way home. She came in and immediately connect her phone to her bluetooth speaker. Music blast through her apartment as she went into the bathroom and started the shower. She raps along to Flo Milli’s x Beef as she undresses herself, stepping in the shower.

I like cash and my hair to my ass

Do the dash, can you make it go fast?

Fuck the fame, all I want is them bands

If she keep on muggin', I'ma steal her man

She made her shower quick to make sure she didn’t sweat out her hair. She got out still singing along to her music. She covered her body in shea butter and danced around her her towel. She made her way into her room, going through her closet. Phoenix wasn’t feeling any of the items she had until she noticed a shopping bag on the floor, all the way in the back. Grabbing it, she pulled out an orange, latex dress. She had completely forgotten that she bought this dress months ago and it was perfect for tonight. She paired it with some clear, strappy heels. She struggled for a moment trying to get the dress to move over her thick thighs but being that she has had these thighs her whole life, she has a few stretches and tricks to get them to act right.

Ari Lennox - BMO starts playing on the speaker as Phoenix begins doing her makeup. She stops to sing her heart out in the mirror.

“Break me off

And gitchi gitchi yaya

When the lights is out

I'm summertime crushin' put that game on pause

And do it how I like it

Baby, nice and slow

Break me off--”

Her singing was cut short from her phone ringing. “Yo, who in the hell is this? Messing up my song.”

Picking up the phone, it’s Mica.

“Hello!” Phoenix barks into the phone.

“Damn, what’s wrong with you?”

“You calling me and interrupting my song.” she walks back into the bathroom to do her makeup, putting the phone on speaker.

“Well, excuse me. I was calling to tell your dusty ass we’re on our way.”

“Ya’ mama dusty.”

“Oh, bitch. I’m telling her that when I see her.”

“She won’t believe you.”

“Whatever,” Mica laughed. “You got 20 minutes. Be ready.”

“I’m doing my makeup now. I’ll be ready.”

“K.”

They hang up and BMO starts blasting through the speaker again. Phoenix moves her hips as she finishes her makeup. She didn’t do too much. A simple beat with mink lashes and a glossy, nude lip. She finished her look with some large, gold hoops, a few layed, gold necklaces and a gold watch. Satisfied with her final look, she unties her scarf, combing down her tresses. You could never go wrong with a middle part, so that’s what she did, pushing her hair behind her ears. Phoenix was more than feeling herself. She walked into her bedroom to get a full view of herself in her full length mirror… taking a few pictures of course.

Ava text her.

Ava: We’re pulling in the garage.

Phoenix: Coming down.

Phoenix puts her necessities into a small, nude clutch and heads out the door. She pushes the call button for the elevator and hums as she waits.

DING!

The doors slide open and standing before her is Erik Stevens. Phoenix couldn’t contain the smile on her face.

“Hey Erik.” she waves at him as she steps into the cabin.

He smiles and nods, “Sup, Philly,” he looked her up and down. Taking note of how the orange dress hugs her curves in all the right ways. “Damn.” slips from his slips. Phoenix pushes her hair back behind her ear, blushing at his reaction.

“You looking good tonight. You got a date or something?” he asked.

She looks up at him, “Thanks. But I wouldn’t wear this on a date though. It’s my friend’s birthday.”

“I wouldn’t mind you wearing that on a date.”

“Where could we go with me wearing this?”

Erik smiles at the thought of them going on a date. He shrugs, “A nice dinner or something.”

“You wanna take me out to a nice dinner, Stevens?”

“If you want me to.”

The elevator stops and the doors open. Erik motions for Phoenix to step out first. She does and her follows. There’s a Jeep Wrangler parked near the entrance of the garage with Ava and Mica waiting.

“You have a good night, Philly. Have fun.” Erik starts walking to his own car.

“Hey, Erik,” he stops and looks back to Phoenix. “Are you busy Sunday?”

He smiles at her and starts walking closer to her. “That depends. What’s going on, on Sunday?”

-----

Ava and Mica are watching from the truck. “Ain’t that Erik?” Mica asks.

“Yeah. What you think she just said, ‘cause you can see all this nigga teeth from across the street?”

“Shit, i don’t know. But we’re gonna find out when her ass get in this car.”

-----

Erik holds one hand in his other in front of him waiting for Phoenix’s answer. She tries to avoid making eye contact with him by looking around him and at the floor. “Well… I have a show Sunday night, if you would like to come. If you’re busy, you don’t have to worry about it. Just figured I’d ask--”

He cuts her off, “I’m free.” He holds his hand out and motions to her phone in her hand. She looks confused, looking at her phone and back at him. She gives it to him, not fully sure of what he’ll need it for.

“Unlock it.” he laughs, handing it back to her. She unlocks it and gives it back to him. He types in his number and saves it as ‘Erik😛’ and gives it back to her. “You can send me all of the details later.”

She looks down at his contact name, eyebrows raised. “Tongue out emoji?” she asks. She was curious.

“I have my reasons.” he licks his lips as Phoenix watches him. He smiles, showing off his golds.

Ava honking her horn, scares Phoenix. She almost jumped into Erik’s arms. Ava and Mica laugh hysterically at her reaction.

“That shit ain’t funny. Fuck y’all.” Phoenix holds her chest.

“I don’t wanna hold y’all up. Have fun, baby girl.”

Phoenix walks to the car cussing Ava out for her bullshit. “Y’all get on my damn nerve.”

They were still laughing as she got into the backseat of the Jeep. Ava starts the car and pulls around and as they pass Erik’s car, Mica rolls down her window, “Byeeeee, ERIK!”

He waves at them, laughing.

“You bitches are annoying.” But Phoenix had to admit, it was funny. She found herself laughing with them.

“You gave him your number didn’t you?” Ava looks back at Phoenix.

“Nope, he gave me his.”

“Wait… what happened?” Mica says turning her whole body to face Phoenix in the back.

Phoenix tried to hide her blush, covering her face with her hand, “I invited him to my show, Sunday.”

“BITCHHHH!!!” Ava and Mica screamed. “Just wait until Cam hear about this in the morning.”

Mica put on their ‘Hot Girl Summer’ playlist and they all rapped along as they set out on their way to pick up Camren and Tiana and make their way to Camren’s surprise dinner.

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

[justlightlysedated]

i keep digging myself down deeper

Alex had been getting ready to leave and see if the program that he'd set up at the bunker to decrypt the files from Caulfield had uncovered anything of use last night, when there was a very rapid knock on his door.

Kyle usually just walks in, and no one else really knows where the cabin is located, so he grabs the taser that he's taken around to carrying and hides it behind his back as he slowly walks towards the door.

He swings the door open and stops short, almost dropping the taser on the floor in surprise.

Maria is the last person that Alex expected to be on the other side of the door, especially this early on a Saturday morning.

She looks tired, like she hasn't been sleeping well, and her eyes are red rimmed, and her hair is pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, and she's biting along the cuticle of her thumb nail, a tick that she can't control when things are out of her control and she doesn't know how to fix it.

Alex can already see that she's drawn blood along the edge of the nail of her middle finger, and he wonders exactly what happened that has her here after what had to be a busy night at the Pony instead of getting some sleep before she has to get things ready to open tonight.

She tears her hand from her mouth as soon as she notices that Alex opened the door, and she just stares at him, with wide bloodshot eyes, not blinking for a few long seconds where Alex feels like every single thought and feeling is on display for her to see.

Her eyes go bright with tears, and she shudders in a low breath, before she speaks.

"I need to talk to you," she says simply.

Alex doesn't respond. He just steps back, and widens the door. Maria walks in wordlessly, giving him a tremulous smile as she does.

Alex closes the door behind her and drops the taser back on top of the side table with his keys.

He can always go to the bunker later.

While Maria settles herself down on the small dining room table, Alex goes into the kitchen and puts the kettle on the burner.

It takes him a few minutes to get everything together for the tea, but he thinks that Maria needs a few more minutes to gather herself before they speak.

She's picking at the cuticle of her thumb, making it bleed a little, when he places the steaming mug of chamomile and lavender tea (something he learned to make from Mimi) right in front of her and she jumps a little bit startled, and looks up at him like she doesn't remember where she is and then down to the mug of tea.

She wraps her hands around the mug and pulls it closer so that the steam wafts into her face. She closes her eyes and sighs out a relieved breath.

Alex sits down across from her with his own mug and leans back to get comfortable. He has a feeling this is going to take a while.

As he waits for his drink to cool enough to drink he studies her, and it's not until his eyes graze over her necklace that he realizes that he's searching for clues that would tell him if she actually kept her word.

Seeing the necklace that Michael had gently pressed his thumb over with a ridiculous soft expression on his face that Alex rarely sees, back around Maria's neck, makes his stomach clench, and he can taste the bile at the back of his tongue.

Maria's eyes open then, and she looks at him, and then down at her mug before she lifts it to her mouth to take a sip.

She looks around the room so that she's not looking at Alex and says. "The place looks really good. I didn't think you'd be much of an interior decorator, but it looks all warm and cozy."

Alex swallows hard, and forces himself to count to five so that he doesn't spit out the thing that he really wants to ask.

"Yeah, you should've seen the place when I moved here, but I know you didn't come here to talk about my future as an interior designer."

His eyes drop involuntarily to Maria's necklace and she immediately covers it with her hand, fingers rubbing over the smooth surface.

"Alex," she says and her voice trembles a little, and it makes Alex's heart clench in his chest and it makes his eyes fall shut so that he can't see her face.

He really doesn't want to know what kind of face she makes while thinking about Michael.

"Alex," she repeats, a little desperate, urging him to look at her.

Alex inhales deeply, steeling himself and opens his eyes.

Maria's eyes are full of tears, but she stares at Alex resolutely. "I'm so sorry."

Alex clenches his jaw tight, and he can feel the way he's shutting down, completely powerless to stop it, even if he really wanted to. But he thinks he could use some of that aloofness in order to have this conversation.

"I know that I said that it would never happen again, but-"

Alex sets his hands down on the table, maybe a little too hard, that the table shakes just a little and it makes Maria's words stop.

Alex licks his lips and he really wants to know when anything happened when the last time he'd seen Michael was the previous late morning and he'd looked so completely out of it and so in need of a nice long nap that Alex had bundled him up in his tiny bed at the Airstream and had left him a note to let Alex know when he was ready to talk.

Alex still doesn't know what made him leave when Alex had gone to see him after what had happened at Caulfield two nights ago, but he's almost positive that it didn't have anything to do with Maria.

He's also almost positive that if anything else had happened between them before Caulfield that Michael would've used that to try to get him to leave, because Michael always knows the words to use to drive Alex away, and at Caulfield he knows that Michael didn't have anything but a bunch of lies he desperately wanted Alex to believe were truths.

Alex looks at her then, and Maria has her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, staring at him with wide eyes.

He shakes his head sharply, when she starts to speak again and her mouth snaps shut.

Alex looks down at the mug in his hands and tries to come up with a way to have this conversation in a civilized manner, because he loves Maria like a sister, and he doesn't want to be the bad guy, but when it comes to Michael he's never been particularly civilized nor rational.

"Why?" He asks, instead of anything else swirling around in his head as he looks up at her.

Maria swallows hard and gives him a pleading look.

"I never meant for any of this to happen," Maria starts, speaking fast like she needs to get everything out. "Michael was just someone who was always around, who was always getting drunk, always ending the night in a fist fight so he could get kicked out before he could actually pay for anything. But there were moments, like on the anniversary of Rosa's death, when he would be different, softer around the sharp edges, like he actually cared that I was hurting.

"I never let him comfort me then because I felt like he would take advantage, but I would let him stay, a quiet ghost at the end of the bar while I closed everything down. It was soothing in a way to know that someone was there when there was no one else around."

Alex swallows hard at that, and looks away.

"But, my mom started getting worst, and the decision to put her in a home was one of the hardest things that I ever had to do, and while I knew that you and Liz both would be there now to hold me if I fell apart, Michael had been there longer, and when he came that night, I let him stay, and he held me when I cried, and he didn't try to take advantage or make me feel like I needed to be strong, and it felt nice to lean against someone for once instead of trying to be strong, and pretending that I wasn't falling apart.

"But he was still Michael. He still drank too much and is such a jerk sometimes. But he had been getting into almost no fights and it really seemed like he was trying to get his life together, and I started thinking that maybe, just maybe there could be something there, but I wasn't sure, and then Texas happened, and it put a kink in all of the plans that I had made because I couldn't stop thinking about him, and I felt disappointed in myself because having sex before having a relationship always messes things up.

"And then you told me that he was museum guy, the one you'd been hung up on all of this time, and I felt even worse, and I tried to do the right thing and I pushed him away and told him that he wasn't welcome anymore after hours, and even though it hurt, it would've been worse to keep hurting you.

"And then he was there for me again, in another moment where I felt entirely vulnerable and it hurt so much, because I really like him and I don't ever want him to go, but we still hadn't talked about anything and I just wanted to talk to you but I didn't know how to start having this conversation, so I pushed him away some more and avoided him some more, but he came to me early in the morning yesterday, and he looked so lost and like he really needed me, so I told him yes, because I can't control the way that I feel, and I think that I'm falling in love with him."

She trails off at the end, like she ran out of steam.

Alex had let her speak without interruption and he feels hot and cold and like his heart is racing out of his chest, and his throat is dry and he can't enough air in his lungs, and he wishes that he could go back in time and stop himself from running away again, but he knows that he can't change the past, anymore than he can affect what the future will bring for all of them.

She lifts the mug to her lips and takes long sips, which she probably needs after that long speech.

And Alex figures that it's his turn to talk.

"Do you know why I joined the Air Force?" Alex asks, and Maria slowly puts the mug back down as she shakes her head, brow furrowing like she doesn't know where this is going.

"My father caught me and Michael together and he took a hammer, and smashed Michael's hand to pieces in front of me."

Maria's hand goes up to cover her mouth, and her eyes are wide like saucers as she stares at him.

"It was singularly the most helpless I've ever felt in my entire life, and there was nothing that I could do to stop him, even if I reported him to the cops, who would believe an outstanding member of society hit a kid with a hammer so hard he permanently disfigured his hand?

"He didn't have to threaten me that he would hurt Michael again if I didn't join and make him proud, because I knew that that was exactly what would happen if I decided to stay, and I knew that I wouldn't be strong enough to protect him, but I knew that I could learn to be strong in the Air Force. So I went because I wanted to win battles, and eventually I grew to like it. I was good at it. It made me feel powerful and in control. And for the first time in my life I knew that I could fight back and win if my father ever tried anything again."

Maria doesn't say anything, just continues to stare at Alex intently, brow furrowed like he's someone that she doesn't know.

"Getting hurt and having my leg amputated set me back enough that when I found out that I was stationed at the base here, I had nightmares about that night in the toolshed for weeks. But I could handle that, because I always thought that by the time I made it back to Roswell, on a permanent basis, Michael would be long gone.

"But he wasn't. He was still there, and he was still looking at me like how he did when we were seventeen, and he was still saying things that made my head spin, and he still made me feel too many things all at once, and I still wanted to protect him from my father. But if there is one thing that I know about myself, it's that I'm no good at resisting Michael Guerin, especially because I never actually really want to. So I hurt him and walked away, and tried to do everything I could to make sure that my father could never hurt him again, but no matter how hard I tried. It was no good. He still somehow managed to break Michael into a million pieces and all I could do was watch, helplessly."

Maria's brow is still furrowed, but she looks more confused than anything else, which tells Alex that while Michael might've seeked her out yesterday morning after whatever had happened during the night, he still hasn't told her the truth about what he is.

It sends a jolt of satisfaction that feels like electricity at the thought that he's keeping secrets from Maria, that Alex should feel bad about, but he can't find it within himself to.

He starts talking again before Maria can ask him what happened because he doesn't want to lie to her, not when they're trying to have an honest conversation.

"I realized then that it didn't matter. That in pushing Michael away I was letting my father win anyway, and I was tired of letting him win, and walking away from him when all I wanted was to tell him how much I loved him, how much I still love him."

Maria looks away at that, eyes dropping back down to her mug.

"Max is dead," she says in a soft voice, and Alex feels like the entire world just stopped on it's axis. "Liz told me, yesterday. She spent the night asleep in my room."

She inhales deeply, and looks back up at Alex.

"Michael came by the bar last night, and I thought that we were finally going to have that talk since he'd run out before we could have it in the morning, but he was already trashed when he walked up to the bar, and he tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away because we really needed to talk before anything else happened, and he didn't take it all that well."

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, "I knew that he and Max were close, and I know that everyone deals with grief differently, but I couldn't just fall into bed with him like he wanted, to help him forget, not when it would mean something different to me now, and I have no idea how he feels besides the fact that he likes me enough to have sex with me.

"So I told him that we needed to talk first, and I was trying to see if I could get him to sober up a little, but he just cut me off, and told me not to worry about it, and then left my bar with his arm around Jessie Parks, and it hurt so much that that's all he wanted from me, and I just, wanted to talk to someone who would know how I feel."

Maria opens her eyes and looks at him, and Alex doesn't know exactly what kind of face he's making, but it just makes Maria's eyes fall shut again and this time there are tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

Alex swallows hard, and reaches out for her, placing his hand on her forearm.

Maria's eyes blink open, and he looks at her seriously and earnestly.

"Michael's been through a lot these last couple of days. And it isn't my place to tell you what happened. But he's going to need all of us to keep him together once Max's death actually hits him. He's scrambling right now and trying to find solid ground in something that worked in the past, but things are different now, and once he realizes that his old habits aren't going to help, he's going to break, and it's going to take all of us to help him keep the pieces together."

Maria looks at him, with bright eyes and shakes her head a little, "I don't know if I can do that."

She places her hand over Alex's and gives him a guilty looking smile.

"Michael was supposed to be my one uncomplicated thing. There's so many things that I have to fight for and about, that I just wanted something that was going to be simple and easy. And all the signs seemed to point that Michael would be that. But all of this with you and everything else, it's much more complicated than I ever expected it to be, and I'm just so tired of having to fight to get what I want. I don't want to fight against Michael's grief and trauma any more than I want to fight against you and your feelings for him. But-"

She trails off, and lets her hand fall away from Alex's.

Alex licks his lips.

"I can't tell you that I'm not going to fight for him," he admits, and Maria's gaze snaps to him intently. "I'm going to do everything that I can to convince him that I'm never walking away again, even if I have to hold on through him walking away, or him sleeping with everyone and anyone, or even if he decides to start a relationship with you."

Maria's brow furrows at that, and she swallows.

"So if Michael decided to try a relationship with me, you would try to break us up?"

Alex shakes his head, "I would never do that. And while it would hurt, and I would probably avoid you both for a while, but I would still be here if he ever needed me."

Maria's eyes go even brighter with tears. "You wouldn't even try to move on."

Alex just shakes his head a little, "It's been ten years. If it was possible to move on, I would've done it already."

Maria nods her head slowly, but she doesn't say anything else.

Alex moves his hand back around his mug and lifts it to his mouth, making a face at the lukewarm tea, but he drinks it all down.

Maria sighs and slumps back in her chair, massaging her temples with her hands.

Alex sets his mug down, and just looks at her.

She sighs again and looks back at him.

"I'm really tired," she says. "I should head back and get some sleep before I have to open the bar."

Alex makes a face at her.

"Or you can just sleep here and then go so I'm not worried you're going to fall asleep at the wheel?" He suggests.

Maria looks at him for a long moment.

"You don't mind?"

Alex shakes his head. "There are things that I have to do anyway."

Maria eyes him intently, "When was the last time you slept?"

Alex opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no words come out.

"Take a nap with me?" She asks, eyes wide and lips pouting just a little, reminding him of the little girl who had asked Alex to please push her on the swings.

Alex nods his head, and gets to his feet grabbing the mugs and taking them to the sink.

Alex leads the way to his room, and tells her to get comfortable while he goes to the bathroom.

Alex lets himself relax a little bit and feels the tears pricking against the backs of his eyelids.

He takes several deep breaths calming himself down, and then once he's sure that he's not going to burst into tears, he walks out.

Maria is sitting on the right side of the bed, one boot off, the other one unzipped, but still on. In her hands is the photo album that Alex keeps on his nightstand, and she's flipping through it, with a small smile on her face.

It's full of all the photos he has of Michael, and the letters that Michael sent him while he was overseas.

Alex lets the bathroom door close behind him and she jumps up and gives him a look like a kid who got caught doing something he shouldn't.

Alex just shakes his head and walks to the other side of the bed.

He kicks off his shoes and takes off his prosthetic carefully, before he lies on his back looking up at the ceiling.

He hears Maria close and set the album aside, and he can feel the questions that she wants to ask, but she just takes off the other boot, and lies down beside Alex, less careful with his personal space as she lies her head on his shoulder and wraps an arm around his waist, fingers wrapping around his wrist tightly.

Alex exhales carefully and breathes steadily before he moves, getting comfortable and wrapping his arm around Maria's shoulder so that her head was resting on his chest.

He can feel the drowsiness pulling against him as Maria's breaths even out and she falls asleep.

He holds her tighter against him and as he falls asleep, he hopes that no matter what happens, they'll still have each other in the end.

[barney-james]

Rivalries || Tom Holland

Requested: @barnes-parker said: hiiiii! tom holland x reader where they’re on screen rivals (in the mcu films) and off screen (they ‘dislike’ each other). but what they didn’t know that they’re actually falling in love w/ each other? thank you!

*not my gif*

Your heals click against the laminate flooring as you walk towards your sworn enemy and fellow class mate. “Peter!” you sing as you approach him. 

The boy turns to face you, recognizing your voice in an instant. “Olivia,” he disclosed. He grabs your arm and drags you off to a corner of the house. “What are you doing here?” 

“Oh,” you laughed. “I thought I’d come to some popular kids party to blow off some steam.”

He rolls his eyes at you, not impressed by your sarcasm. 

“I’m doing what my father should have done a long time ago. Killing you.”

“If you do that here, you’ll blow your cover, but more importantly -- mine,” Peter threatens. 

You let out a devilish laugh. “You think I care if people know about Peter Parker being the Spider-Man? I don’t, and my father blew his cover last time he tried to kill you; people wouldn’t be very surprised to find out I’m bad too.”

You move your hand to reach into your back pocket, but Peter moves quicker. He shoots his webs at your hand, sticking it to the wall.

“What, Parker? A girl can’t check the time?”

He gives you a quizzical look.

“I’m not going to kill you, Peter. But I had you guessing didn’t I? I may work with my father, but I’m not going to do his dirty work. I thought I’d come out of hiding as a home-schooler and see what our class mates are like before starting school this week.” You pump an eyebrow at him before pushing past him and into the crowded house, your shoulders colliding.

“Shit!” Peter Parker exclaims. 

“CUT!” the director yells. 

You come out from behind the prop and stand next to Tom, waiting for feedback. 

“That was amazing! Great job. Y/n, next time, make it more believable that Olivia is there to kill Peter.”

“Yes, of course,” you nod. 

“Tom, that was perfect.”

A stupid grin plays across Toms face as he thanks the director. 

“Okay, now. You two have an on-set interview in 30 minutes. Go get ready.”

Tom groans. “Another interview, with her?”

Your heart pings slightly, but you ignore it, playing it off with a scoff. You walk away from set and to your trailer without looking at Tom anymore. As the big characters for this movie, it would be expected that you’d have a lot of interviews with Tom, and you didn’t mind them so much. You enjoyed getting to know him. But it always seems as if he can’t stand you. 

You reach your trailer, pull the door open, and let out a small cry. You hadn’t noticed the tears before. Usually, you wouldn’t care about weather or not a co-star liked you. Most of the time, you were just doing your job, but with Tom, it was different. 

Taking off the heals, and your hair down from the annoyingly tight pony tail, you plop down onto the couch, taking deep breaths. It really didn’t matter. Or at least it shouldn’t. You are only working with Tom for about another week before you’re done with your scenes. Then you’d likely only see him again at the premier. Despite him being a raging asshole to you, he’s cute, he’s funny.

You decide to let yourself calm down a bit before you get ready for the interview. In doing so, you pull your knees to your chest and rest your head on them, taking deep breaths. You don’t know how long you sat like that because when there’s a harsh knock on the trailer door, you’re pulled from a trance you didn’t even know you were in. 

“Y/n,” Tom says through the door as he continues to knock on it. “We’ve got to head to the interview in a few minutes.”

Standing from the couch, you open the door from your trailer, turning away quickly so Tom doesn’t see the state you’re in. You wipe the tears away on the back of your hand, sniffling. 

“Why are you still in costume?” He laughs at you, which really doesn’t help your state of mind. 

You take one last deep breath before turning to your wardrobe, unfortunately you have to face Tom in doing so. 

“Whoa, whoa,” he says, his warm smiling falling from his cheeks. “Were you crying?”

“No,” you say, pulling something out of the wardrobe and looking down at it, avoiding his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Y/n, come on. It’s me. Talk to me.”

“’It’s me’” you scoff. “Do you honestly think I trust you, Holland.” You look up at him with hurt filled eyes, throwing the blouse you were holding onto a chair and looking back into the wardrobe.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Tom seems genuinely confused; you almost pity him. 

“Maybe because you’re an asshole who can’t stand to be around me!” you shout, burying your head deeper into the closet. 

“Wh-what are you talking about, Y/n?”

“Really, Tom? So you’re just going to act like you didn’t complain to the director about the amount of interviews you have with me when I was standing right there! You’ve got some nerve.” You grab a pair of slacks from the wardrobe and place them on the chair as well, turning and facing Tom. “I have been nothing but nice to you since we met! And what do I get back? Absolutely nothing. Nothing but you acting like I’m some rodent you can’t stand to look at longer than you have to on set. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, okay... You care about people, but you sure as hell don’t give a shit about me!” 

You take your clothes from the chair and head into the bathroom. Tom follows, but you slam the door shut in his face. 

“Y/n, come on,” he says through the door. “You’re being ridiculous!”

You scoff again but don’t say anything as you pull your set clothes off and put on the blouse and slacks for the interview. Looking in the mirror, you let out a big sigh, seeing you’ve had mascara running down your face the whole time. Tom saw the crazy bitch inside you. You wipe away the smeared makeup from under your eyes before opening the bathroom door and pushing past Tom. 

“You know, Tom,” you exasperate. “I don’t know what I ever did to you to make you hate me so much, but I know I didn’t do anything to you that results in me deserving the shit you’ve been giving me.”

You throw your arms up, turning towards him. But before you could continue to curse him out, he gently grabs your cheeks in his large hands and pulls you face towards his. He connects your lips in a soft kiss that’s still filled with so much passion and pent up emotions. Your hands fall to rest on his broad shoulders, your lips moving in perfect sync with his.

You don’t really know what you’re doing, and you try not to think about it too much. He’s an asshole. You undoubtedly have some sort of feelings for him. And you’re sure Tom’s not the kind of guy to just kiss you if he didn’t have some meaning behind it. You want to let the kiss deepen, but your moral senses tell you that you need to finish talking to him before this happens, other wise you could just be a fling, or friends with benefits, and you know that won’t go over well.

You press your hands to his chest firmly, pushing him back a bit, but not too far, as you’re enjoying the closeness you’re sharing with him. He rests his forehead against yours. 

“Tom...” you don’t know what to say as you let his name trail off your lips. You know how you feel, but you don’t want to put that out there when there’s still a slim chance of rejection. 

“Y/n, I -- I’m sorry.” Tom’s hands fall from your face as he takes a step away from you. He puts his hands over his face, rubbing as if to wake himself up. “I’m so sorry.”

“What do yo--”

“For being such an asshole. I’m sorry. I wanted to keep things strictly professional, at least until the movie was over. And I wasn’t sure if you’d even want to -- want me. You’re just so kind to everyone -- you’re such an amazing, beautiful girl, and I could never do anything to ever deserve you. I knew keeping my feelings low was going to be hard once we starting filming our first scene. So, the stupid little boy inside me told me to push them to the side and be an asshole. Then maybe if you hated me I’d get over it. But I see now that even if you hate me, I’m still going to love you. Kissing you out of nowhere probably wasn’t the move, but I had to get you to shut up and let me talk.” He pauses for a moment.

You can’t speak as you try to process the words he just threw up. 

“I--I love you, Y/n,” Tom sighs as if someone had just lifted the world off of his shoulders. He looks at you with hope filled eyes, but that hope fades when you’re left not saying anything, with your mouth slightly opened and a stunned look on your face.

“Oh, god,” he says, and his posture visibly worsens as if someone had just put the weight back on. “You don’t -- I-I shouldn’t have said any of this. God! I’m so stupid. I just ruined our easy work environment because you don’t feel the same and now this is going to be really awkward until we finish --”

Before he can word vomit anymore, before he can get himself too worked up or upset over this, you grab the back of his neck and pull him down into another kiss, this time more rushed, filled with need, yet still emotional. Tom is shocked for a moment, but calms, and settles his hands on your hips, pulling you closer to him. 

When you pull away for air, you look deep into his chocolate eyes. “I love you, too, Tom,” you say, your gaze moving from his eyes to his lips and back again. 

A shit-eating grin grows onto his face, and he pulls back from you. He starts laughing, giggling, and you join in, though not really knowing why. 

Tom turns back to you, wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up and swings you around. You squeal at suddenly being off the ground. He sets you down, and looks deep into your eyes. “I’m sorry I was being an asshole. Forgive me?”

You smile. “You’re forgiven.”

“Be mine?” he says, eyes full of hope once more. 

“Yes, you dummy,” you laugh. 

Tom pulls you back in for one last quick kiss before taking your hand in his. “We’re late for our interview.”

Laughing as he pulls you form your trailer, you catch a glimpse at the director, who’s eyebrow is arched at the two of you suddenly getting along. He shrugs it off and gives you a smile. 

You continue giggling as your boyfriend pulls you towards the interview booth.

A/N: ugh part of this got deleted and I had to rewrite it. I hope it lived up to your expectations @barnes-parker ! 

[dopescotlandwarrior]

A Hero Among Us-Chapter 11

Previous chapters on AO3                 Special thanks to @Statell, for all your help

Chapter Eleven

The day after Thanksgiving, Ned Gowen left for San Francisco promising to be back by Christmas. He was charged with a hugely important mission, find and contact the owner of the hidden property and make the purchase. He and Jamie built a plan over whisky and midnight oil and agreed to as sweet a price as Jamie could afford. It was anyone’s guess if the family would sell, or for how much. They didn’t have the luxury of negotiation, it just took too long for a letter to make it to Europe and back. The transatlantic telegraph was fast and reliable for making an offer, the legal signatures could take up to a month.

Jamie clasped Ned’s hand and held his horse. He could barely lift his eyes from the gravel under his feet and Ned noticed his mood.

“Jamie, all is not lost. Ye need to keep riding each day and find other properties that will work. There are thousands of dead acres nearby so don’t give up hope.”

Jamie nodded and sent Ned off with a fond farewell. He decided after worrying for half the day, it would not serve to sit idle. He wanted more information about the hidden vineyard. He and Claire mounted up and galloped into the fields vanishing into the wilderness to all observers and finding the property again with little trouble. They pushed the horses to the house and tied them in the long grass for grazing.

Jamie stood on the shore of the lake and looked across the water until boredom drove Claire inside. She wasn’t feeling well and thought to find a covered sofa to sit down for a few minutes. She wandered through the giant house going from room to room. The master’s bedroom was like the royal chambers of the Persian princes she read about as a girl. Sumptuous, elegant, ridiculously dirty from neglect. She tried to imagine how long ago the family left. She continued to wander and found herself in the nursery again. She pulled her hand along the crib and imagined a tiny baby squealing for his mother. She saw herself holding a child to her breast while another child played at her feet. Drawers were pulled open and her mind filled them with tiny clothes and mittens and boots. The last drawer she opened had a piece of paper, dusty but readable, assorted items of clothing, tiny shoes, and mud handprints of a small child. The piece of paper was a hand-written note that read;

My love, Nikoli, I leave the possessions of your children to comfort you until we can join you. You are loved and deeply missed husband. I return to Romania with a sad heart to leave your body behind but never forgotten. If you can breathe life back into this land your loss will have meaning. A depth of love I never thought possible lived here and I will return to spend eternity with you my love, as soon as I can. Your loving Churassia.

If the finder of this note will contact me and promise to lay my bones in this land with my loving husband, I am grateful, and the land is yours to be exchanged with the same instructions until my death.

Claire wept for the young woman and her unbearable loss. Sweat rolled down her temple and her stomach churned pushing her back outside to find Jamie. Descending the staircase seemed to tap every ounce of strength she had so she gripped the banister and pulled herself along. She could see her husband in the same place, looking out at the lake, but when she stepped outside, she felt her feet leave the ground as the dirt rushed toward her.

“Sassenach! Tell me, love, are ye alright? What happened to ye to make ye so white and cryin.” Jamie held her to him.

Claire looked up and feeling a massive dizzy spell, sank back into Jamie’s lap. “The paper, where is it, did I drop it?”

Jamie looked in the direction she had come from and picked it up. Placing the paper on Claire’s chest he carried her to a sofa. He watched her pale face sweat and tears flow. She looked at Jamie, her rock, her dearest love.

“Let’s hope you are more stout than that poor bugger.”

Jamie read the document and felt a chill go up his spine. He could not leave Claire’s side when she was feeling so sick, but the afternoon waned along with the light.

I’m sorry love, but we must go or be lost in here until tomorrow. Can ye sit in my saddle and let me hold ye home?”

Jamie knew he could not pony Brimstone and hold Claire at the same time. He lifted Claire onto Brimstone and swung up behind her. He had pulled the bridle off Donus and locked his stirrups up into the saddle.

“I hope ye’ll be coming with us, friend. If not, I wish ye well and the bugger that catches ye, my condolences.” Brimstone was set into an easy lope toward home with Donus right beside her. Jamie called for Misses Crook at the porch and whistled for the men, several came running, including Rupert.

“What’s happened to the lady boss?”

“Take her Rupert, carefully, follow Misses Crook. I’ll be right there.” Jamie handed Brimstone to the men and warned them not to handle Donus. “Just open his stall door and he’ll find his way.”

Jamie ran to the cabins yelling for Cho.

Misses Crook paced outside Claire’s rooms while Jamie and Cho were with her. The door was open, but she could not stand seeing her face so white and lifeless. When she could no longer stand being away from her, she rushed in and fainted on the spot when she saw Claire. Cho’s entire kit of needles bounced from various points of Claire’s body. Neck, face, arms, and ankles. Cho walked to the older woman and pinched the skin in the middle of her forehead until she took a deep breath.

Cho blocked Misses Crook’s view and asked her to lie down until he came back to check her. Misses Crook left meekly like she had seen a ghost, or the ghost of her Mistress.

Jamie looked down and touched Claire's face, “Christ Cho, she’s burnin up!”

“This is good Jamie. Her body is boiling the offender, it is good.”

“Why her? Why couldn’t it be me?”

“A king will succumb while the beggar lives in health because the beggar is exposed and becomes stronger. Claire has not had this exposure, she is kept from the enemy of life and is weak to fight it.”

“Yer not makin a lick of sense.” Jamie could feel his anger, fear, and frustration ready to explode and raked a hand through his hair.

“You have put her life in my hands twice now. I ask you to open the window three inches and leave the house. Please, trust me.”

Jamie held her face and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be waitin for ye on the swing, lass, dinna be long.”

Jamie shot out of the house and was riding toward Ben’s place like hell’s fire was chasing him. He tied Brimstone and knocked on the door fearing he would have a heart attack if Ben did not open this instant.

The door swung open to a sight that broke Ben’s heart and he knelt next to the big man and pulled him to his feet before walking him to a sofa. A large whisky was pressed into Jamie’s hand and pushed to his mouth for two big gulps.

Jamie felt broken or broken down. He lacked the strength for a deep breath and looked at Ben like he did not know him, but then he began to speak. He explained to Ben about the note Claire found in the drawer of the nursery and the offer of the land, with the unusual stipulation that would make it binding.

“I’m very good at helping Jamie, what is it I can do?”

Jamie’s face looked terrified suddenly like he needed to escape. Ben kept his voice low and suggested things that Jamie might need. Something catastrophic had occurred for his friend to be this unraveled. Ben came to the awful conclusion that it was something to do with Claire, but Jamie’s condition was fragile, so he preceded with caution.

I’m comin back to the vineyard with you Jamie. But first, is there anything you need?”

“I need to borrow two horses so my men can travel to the city and stop Ned. We have the property! I just need to telegraph the promise, asked for in the note, and then Claire will get well, and we can go on to the abandoned estate tomorrow. It’s easy! We can do this!” Jamie jumped up and headed for the door. Ben stopped him and asked for help with the horses. Keep him busy with tasks and his mind off Claire. That much was obvious.

Jamie had the horses brushed and tacked up in ten minutes. Ben ponied his second horse and Jamie jumped on Brimstone. The men rode hard to the vineyard and Ben saw Jamie’s eyes fixed on the upstairs window. They galloped to the cabins and were surrounded by the men. Angus looked at Jamie and took a deep breath for his friend and locked eyes to give him strength.

“Whatever ye need boss.”

“Two men to ride to the city and give a message to Ned Gowen. Pick a man, not Rupert.” Jamie turned and looked at the window. He started running for the house leaving the horses and men behind.

Ben wrote a message to give to Ned and sent Angus and another man on their way. All the men had gathered around him now, looking concerned. “Those of you that pray, it’s time to ask the almighty to save the lady. Forget the prayers you learned and pray from your heart. She is no ordinary lady so think of her when you talk to God. Your prayers will have more power. I will be doing the same and showing strength to Jamie.” Ben looked at the men, “if the time should come, we will pray for Jamie.”

Jamie walked quietly into the room. Claire had no needles in her skin and was covered in wet towels to keep her body temperature down. Jamie had never been so scared in his life, ironically because of the absence of needles. Cho was dipping towels in a cold basin like he had given up healing Claire. Jamie couldn’t speak so he knelt next to her with his mouth at her ear and told her stories about the Highlands, and his family, and where they would go for adventure when he took her there. He kept talking for hours. Through another needle treatment he was not aware of. It was just him and Claire, free and wild in the Heather and hills of his home.

The men gathered on the porch and around the house, heads bent, rosaries in hand. They each had their own memory of the lady, bowing before them, face bright with happiness at the fiesta, looking after them when they were sick, calling them by name, taking their hand to say thank you, wonderful job, so glad you’re with us, so thrilled you’re staying, you may not be excused until you fill your plate again, your mother would be so proud Shawn, Kenneth, Morgan, William, Robbie. Each man heard her say his name and prayed to hear it again.

Cho removed the needles and covered Claire with fresh towels. He put a sopping corner of a towel into her mouth. Jamie looked at Cho pleadingly, “she’s too hot.” He ran for Misses Crook and the men were chased out of the room while she stripped her Mistress leaving as much skin exposed as possible and covered her with towels.

As the sun came over the horizon Jamie looked at Cho and asked the impossible question, “Is she with child?”

“No. Her womb reaches for life but is yet empty.”

“How do you know that?”

“The energy inside touches points around the body, it is the life force. If she was with child, it would flow through the womb, always, but it does not. This is her blessing, she can fight for herself and live. It won’t be long now.”

Jamie waited a long minute before asking, “long for what Cho?”

“Chinese believe in deep sickness we are given a choice, to live or to join those we love and have lost.” Cho gave a rare smile, “She will stay.”

Jamie gasped, he had no strength left to fight his tears, so they came, either by fear or by relief, they came.

Cho covered Claire in fresh towels and inserted a needle into Jamie’s hand so he would sleep. There was concern that Jamie would fall ill since he was so close to her during the fever. Cho would know in a few hours and until then he would make him rest.

Misses Crook brought a tray of food to Claire’s room and she almost cried at the lovers, locked in an embrace and sound asleep. “Mr. Cho, can I relieve ye for a bit? Ye have been tendin the Mistress all night.”

“Thank you, but I am fine.” Cho was delighted to see a tea service on the tray. It was all he needed.

Angus and Robbie made it to the city in the early morning and found Ned at his office already. They handed him the note and waited. Ned, being the astute observer, noticed the heavy melancholy in the men. “This is fantastic news gentlemen, do you agree?” They nodded. “What might be keeping you from clicking your heals and smiling?”

“The Mistress is sick Ned. We have to be goin.”

“Alright, you two get back and try not to pitch forward in sleep on the way. I will tend this business and be back at the vineyard in a few days. God speed lads.”

Ned did not say anything about the telegraph that was waiting for him from Randall senior. He announced he would be taking possession of the vineyard in the spring and asked Ned to facilitate sending Claire home to England as soon as she could travel. He did not offer to pay for her trip or support her in any way. Ned worried there would be no one to send home and quickened his steps to the telegraph office.

Misses Crook was called to Claire’s room just before noon and the lovers continued to sleep. Cho requested a shift be put on Claire and left the room. Misses Crook looked after him like he was crazy but when she touched Claire’s cheek she gasped. Her skin was cool and was gaining color as she watched. The towels were removed and Misses Crook pulled her from Jamie’s grasp wondering why he didn’t wake up. A fresh shift was on the Mistress and as Misses Crook turned to leave, she noticed the needle that bobbed in the air, stuck into Jamie’s hand. “What kind of voodoo is this then?”

Cho was back just as Misses Crook was reaching for the needle. “Thank you for your assistance Misses Crook.” Cho bowed as the older woman left the room. Cho removed the needle and touched Jamie’s face, still cool, a good sign Jamie would not get sick.

Jamie opened his eyes and looked around in confusion before remembering how sick Claire was. He pulled her to him and touched her face before looking at Cho.

“I leave now. The lady will wake.” Cho bowed and left.

Jamie pulled his wife into his arms and held her close praying his thanks to God. He couldn’t wait for her to wake on her own, so he called to her.

Claire’s bloodshot eyes fixed on her husband with a tinge of confusion, “I don’t want to fish today Jamie.”

“And why is that mo chridhe?”

“The fish are mean.” She cuddled up to her husband and was drifting off again.

“No more fishing then, the finest lassie says so.” Jamie kissed her forehead and let sleep take him as he held his heart and soul in his arms.

It would be two more days before the men saw Jamie. He took his meals with Claire, encouraging her to eat. When she slept, he did too. The men were informed that the lady was recovering and they should enjoy some time off. Angus and Robbie returned completely exhausted and hearing the good news took to their bunks for an entire day and night. There was a constant supply of fresh fish coming to Misses Crook’s kitchen because Highlanders don’t idle well. During the evening meal, Angus noticed a glum Rupert leaning against their cabin looking out at the vineyard.

“What’s eatin ye Rupert, ye foul mood is lastin more than I can handle. What say we play a game of dice and challenge the willin.” Angus poked his friend and smiled his toothless grin. Rupert walked away saying he would start his watch early.

Rupert watched the road and tried to calm himself. For days he suffered with anxiety, knowing something was wrong. Now that the lady was healing, he still felt the unrest and it took over his mind, but he didn’t know why. He was being tortured by an unseen foe and wondered if he was losing his mind.

Jamie bundled Claire up on the swing and sat next to her so they could read their love poems again, really so he could. She was the picture of health except she had not spoken again since the mean fish comment. She would talk but no sound came out. She was easy to understand without speaking because Jamie knew her so well and when she indicated he should get back to his duties he flatly refused. Jamie read the poetry and pushed the swing with his foot while his wife cuddled up to him and kissed his cheek when she loved one of the poems. The men elbowed each other and nodded toward the boss smiling. Everybody felt relief that life would go on. Except Rupert.

Jamie laid Claire in their bed and smiled at her open eyes. He turned to bathe and get ready for bed, but she held his hand and pulled him to her. He covered her with his body and kissed her softly, allowing a touch more heat with his tongue and then jumping to the floor when he felt her tongue. She followed him out of bed and removed his shirt, then pants. Taking the cloth in the water she washed him and kissed his chest, arms, and neck. Jamie stood vigilant and shook his head when she tried to lick his nipple. She did it anyway, running her hands up the back of his legs and over his magnificent ass. She walked behind him and washed his back, noticing the tight muscles that were shoring up his resolve to leave her alone. She reached around and wrapped her hands around his erection slowly moving in the rhythm he loved. He grabbed her hand and marched her to the bed, then tucked her in. He snuffed out the lamps and staggered to a chair waiting for her to fall asleep. In his sleep he felt his erection against his stomach, pulsing with need. He tried to get up but realized he was held down by an unseen force. Hands touched him, startling him. He could not see Claire between his legs, but she had all the power because he could not move. She kissed him making him shake with need. When he felt her warm soft mouth come down on him it was more than he could take. With his mighty strength, he pulled on the ties that held him until they snapped allowing him to sit up. He was suddenly awake watching his amazing wife kneeling between his legs rolling her mouth up and down his cock causing his heart to nearly explode.

“Sassenach,” he whispered. “Come, lass, to bed, let me love ye.”

He covered her naked body and kissed her deeply feeling her legs open under him and panting in his ear. He could not stop himself. His wife’s erotic act made him incapable of stopping and the image of her mouth on his cock was fueling an intense need. He entered her slowly feeling panic when her usual sounds were not heard. He looked at the arousal in her face and did his best to go slowly and not hurt her. When he kissed her core, she almost levitated and he slowly sent her to a special place to touch the face of angels. “My love.” He held her pelvis up and felt the electricity snapping at his lower back as it worked deep into his groin. His balls pulled up painfully until he could not take the pain anymore, just seconds before he shattered and growled through the most intense orgasm, he ever felt, he fell next to her, his love. Jamie panted for air while he pushed the hair off her face and pulled her close. They hardly moved the rest of the night.

The days became weeks, Claire’s voice came back, and she was well enough to help Misses Crook decorate the cabins and the house for Christmas. She placed a notice at church for young ladies to join their party on Christmas day since most families celebrated on Christmas eve. Five turkeys were roasting with drippings being caught underneath for gravy. Potatoes were added to the coals and pies of every variety had been baked by the women for days before the celebration. Radish salad, colcannon, Scottish cheese and bannocks, and other dishes from Scotland that made Jamie beam with pride at his wife.

“Ah, the lassies are here gentlemen.” All the men stood with their shiny faces and combed hair to welcome the ladies, offer food and drink, and hope for a dance. The music and dancing were a relief to overstuffed bellies and there was much laughter until the fathers started showing up and the lasses were bid goodbye. When it was just the men again, a beautiful, clear voice was heard in the dark for a rendition of silent night that brought tears to Claire’s eyes. The men were silent until the last note and then the singer went right into Deck the Halls, bringing the men with him. Jamie enjoyed every minute he wasn’t worried about Ned. He was expected weeks ago. Something must have happened.

It would be another three days before Jamie was to know Ned’s fate. Always the first one up, Jamie came around the corner of the house and almost dropped to his knees. Ned was face down in the front yard. The man was still breathing, and Jamie carried him easily to the guest room and laid him on the bed. He ran for Cho.

Ned suffered from exhaustion after losing his horse and walking for two days. The horse had reared when a skunk came out of the brush, scaring the poor beast half to death. Jamie was coming out of his skin waiting to hear if Ned was successful or not. Finally, after two days of resting Ned called Jamie to him and asked the door to be closed.

Jamie shook his head violently, “no Ned, this canna be so!”

While Jamie paced, Ned filled him in on the two telegraphs from Randall, his plan to take the vineyard, and the obvious flow of information from someone in their camp. When Jamie looked up, he had murderous eyes and left without a word. Ned realized he forgot to tell Jamie that Churassi had accepted his offer, the deed was on the way.

The next day Ben rode his horse through the vineyard and came galloping back ringing the bell for all he was worth. Men came running from everywhere, including Jamie who looked at Ben like he had lost his mind. Ben held out a rotted arm off a vine and announced the blight had infected their vines. Jamie grabbed it and shouted “impossible!” He dispatched ten men to follow Ben and check the vines the rest were sent back to digging trenches.

It was everywhere, according to the men, the entire vineyard was infected, their plans were in ruins. The doubters checked for themselves and saw the white dots at the juncture of the arms, it was true. The evening meal was a solemn affair, and the men disbanded early to sleep the terrible day away.

The shape on the road moved silently as it left the vineyard and headed for town. Body stooped, head down, he walked quickly. Jamie waited for him in the middle of the road, no longer concerned with hiding himself. He let the shadow person almost run into him before making a sound.

"Careful laddie, no reason to rush yer death, it’ll happen soon enough." There was a gasp as the stooped figure realized he was caught. He turned around to run as the highlanders were closing the circle of freedom. He was bound and gagged. Jamie asked if anyone knew him.

“I know him, he’s a cousin”

Rupert approached and kicked the man in the kidneys hard enough to drop him. Jamie was without words. He stared at Rupert like he broke his heart. “Did ye know Rupert?”

“No.”

Guilt by association is what Rupert felt and prayed that Jamie would see his innocence. Not for sparing his life but for remaining in the trust of the greatest man he had known since his father. “Who among ye doesna know Rupert as kin or friend?” The group separated and Jamie pointed to a man. “Go with them.”

The bound man would not see another day, that he knew, so he walked slowly toward town ignoring Rupert’s orders to move faster. Exasperated, Rupert pulled the man into the brush. They had hours to wait until sunup, He would use that time to find out what happened, when, and who was involved. Once the telegraph was sent, the three men walked back to the vineyard but only two arrived.

The ruse that Ben suggested two nights prior had worked to ferret out the trader. The men Jamie chose to accompany Ben were told of the plan and handed infected limbs from other vineyards. Claire and Misses Crook had mixed water with pigeon poop, dabbing the vines under the two arms that are left for the winter. They worked quickly in the predawn morning, Claire’s conscious state was attributable to her teeth chattering from the cold. They were back in front of the fire before the first cabin door opened.

It was a devastating change to what was reported to Randall senior and they knew the snitch would sneak out to telegraph an update. It worked.

Rupert sat against his cabin long after the evening meal waiting for Jamie to come and deal with him. He cared only for an acknowledgment of his innocence because he was a proud Highlander. So he waited.

“A word Rupert.” Jamie led him into the vineyard because this was no one's business but Rupert’s. “Do ye know why I held ye back from goin to the city with Angus?”

“Ye needed an overseer I imagine.”

“No. It’s because ye have a special place in yer heart for the lady. I knew you would pray harder and longer than anyone else. I know the kindness ye feel toward her would never allow ye to act against her, or me. Ye will no be judged for a blood association and I want ye to rid yerself of any guilt or doubt in my opinion of ye. Are we clear Highlander?”

“Yes boss, we’re clear.”

[splat-dragon]

In which Jumin doesn't understand sarcasm, and the MC discovers she married an idiot. And V's there to laugh at them, too.

“What do you wish for, for Christmas?”

 A man's deep, rumbling purr of a voice broke the comfortable silence that cloaked the spacious penthouse. At a glance, the penthouse was obviously owned by someone of considerable wealth. Real wood and expensive looking appliances and furniture overran it. Two people, a man and a woman, rested atop a soft-looking pure white couch. The man was dressed in a tailored, three-piece suit, clearly fresh from the office. His raven-black hair was stylishly tousled, his bangs covering the corner of a silver eye. He sat with one leg stretched out, resting on a wood and glass coffee table, the other crossed over his knee.

 In his lap the girl rested her head, eyes closed. Her skin was as pale as milk, a light dusting of freckles highlighting high cheekbones. She wore a simple white blouse, tucked loosely into a pair of black trousers. The man's long fingers carded through her elbow-length brown hair.

 A pair of emerald eyes were revealed when she slowly opened them, blinking up at him owlishly. “What?” she slurred sleepily, nuzzling into him.

 “Christmas is only a few weeks away, MC, and I don't know what to gift you. What would you like? I'll get you anything.” He moved one of his hands to lightly caress her cheek lovingly.

 “Jumin,” she laughed, a sound like tinkling bells, “I have everything I could ever want. All I want for Christmas is to spend time with you.”

 Jumin frowned slightly, furrowing his brow. “MC,” the way he said her name was more serious than before. “Of course I will take off so I can spend the holidays with you. But it's our first Christmas together. I will give you the world if you ask it.” His tone made it obvious he wouldn't accept a no.

 MC snorted, and shook her head, allowing her eyes to drift shut as she rested her head on his lap. He gently shook her shoulder before she could drift off once more, and when she opened them her eyes were dark with irritation. “A pony, then,” she grumbled sarcastically, “if you insist on this, I want a pony for Christmas.”

 Having said that, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, completely unaware of her husband, whom had a thoughtful look on his face. As she lost consciousness, he grabbed his phone from the side table and began to type.

  That Christmas morning was a cold one. Temperature gauges dropped well below freezing, and the wind cut right through anyone fool enough to step outside. A sprinkling of snow dusted the ground, just enough to make everything glitter as though covered in innumerable tiny crystals. Even the sky seemed to shine, despite being a clean celeste slate.

 MC had already given Jumin his gift (a beautifully made watch with Elizabeth carved into the face), and they'd sat down together to drink hot chocolate and share various treats. She couldn't help but to be curious, however, as he continually checked his phone. It couldn't be the RFA, she knew, as they'd all come to an agreement to not use the chatroom on Christmas and, instead, they would discuss everything Christmas-related on the day after. This way they could enjoy their time together with their significant others and/or each other, in the case of Zen and Jaehee, as the cafe owner still had yet to gather the courage to confess but had offered him a free meal to eat together.

 At fifteen until two, his phone vibrated audibly. Jumin flicked on the phone, darted through the message, and leaped to his feet. He stepped forward, extracting the scalding hot hot chocolate from her hands and gently tugged on her wrist.

 MC stood from the couch, watching him in bewilderment. “Jumin-?”

 In quick strides that she struggled to match, he hurried to the coat rack and slipped hers on her shoulders. He quickly followed with her ruby mittens, and then a matching scarf, wrapping it snugly around her neck. He urged her to step into her boots as well, taking the time it took her to button them up to dress himself in his emerald winter-wear.

 “Jumin, where are we going?”

 He ignored the question, taking her by the hand once more and leading her out the door. The executive director tugged her down the hall, and into the elevator. There she attempted to question him again, only to receive more silence.

 If she was honest, he looked... excited, almost. A youthful glee softened his features; the corner of his lips curled up in a barely-contained smile, his steely eyes had softened into something more like mercury, and he was even rocking slightly on his heels.

 The metallic doors slid open, and he quickly pulled her outside. Driver Kim stood at the curb, reclining slightly against the door of the limo. Seeing them, he straightened, bowing low and opening their door.

 Before Jumin could pull her in, MC tugged away. “Jumin Han! I am not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!” She scowled, and he was briefly reminded of an indignant kitten, puffed up and angry, with her hands on her hips.

 The emerald-clad man smiled at her fondly, catching her about the hips and tugging her to him, kissing her forehead. “MC,” he purred, hiding his smile against her pale skin, “I have a surprise for you. Please, just play along.”

 MC eyed him warily, furrowing her brow, but in the end shook her head exasperatedly, clambering into the spacious limousine. 'I tell him not to get me anything, but does he listen? No.' His large hands suddenly closed around her wrists, pulling her so that she was leaning against him, half in his lap. He wrapped his arm around her head in a way such that his forearm blocked her vision. “Jumin?”

 He chuckled quietly, the soft gust of his breath against the sensitive shell of her outer ear making her jump. “I told you, it's a surprise. If you could see where we were going, you'd know what it is. Although, you should know already.”

  'How can I know already? I told him I didn't want anything.'

 It was a long drive, perhaps three quarters of an hour, with many twists and turns. However, the smoothness that told her that they were still on the well-maintained tarmac suddenly turned into a fairly bumpy drive that had Jumin adjusting his hold on her several times.

  'We must be miles out from the city if they don't maintain the roads; where are we going?'

 Not long after, the limousine stopped and she heard Driver Kim's door swing open and click shut, followed by his oddly-muffled footsteps. The door next to her opened, and he helped Jumin get her out without allowing her to see where they had stopped.

 “Only a little longer, Princess.” Jumin murmured in her ear, and placed his other hand at the small of her back. “The path is a bit uneven, so allow me to guide you.”

 As they walked forward, she took several deep breaths to try and discern where they might be. The air seemed to lack any of the pollution of the city, no gasoline fumes choking her breath. Faintly she could smell flowers and... was that hay?

 He tucked her into himself further, preventing her from hearing by pushing her ears into his coat and the crook of his elbow. They were close enough that the noises would spoil the surprise.

 Jumin quickly opened a gate when they approached it, herding her inside. The metal gate clanged against the wooden fence as he closed and latched it once more. Turning her to face the large building in front of them, he removed his arm from her ear, careful to keep her eyes covered.

 “I am going to go inside to get your present, Princess. I want you to keep your eyes closed, alright?” Saying so, he slowly removed his arm from around her.

 “Yes Jumin,” MC nodded, clapping her hands over her eyes as he removed his limb. She could hear him walking away, and then the sound of a heavy door. The urge to look was strong, but she didn't want to break his trust or disappoint him.

 “NEIGH!”

 “What?!” His wife yelped, jumping slightly. No, no way, no how, she did not just hear a horse. Jumin surely wasn't that crazy... was he?

 “Surprise! You can open your eyes!” Her husband's voice boomed from in front of her, and she jumped again. MC jerked her hands away, only to return them to rub the harsh sunlight from her eyes. Slower this time, she opened them.

 And stared.

  'Yup. That's a horse.'

 Well, horse wasn't really the right word. He looked to be full grown, but was just shy of her shoulder. So, a pony.

  'What. The. Fuck.'

 It stood perhaps fifty-and-some-change inches tall, looking ridiculously short next to her giant of a husband. It was a mount worthy of a princess, with gleaming white fur and what she assumed to be a fine build. It wore a gleaming red halter and lead rope, held carefully in Jumin's hand.

 As time went on and her eyes only got bigger and her jaw dropped wider, Jumin's wide grin began to fade. “Do... do you like it, Princess?”

 MC looked at him for a moment. She desperately wanted to say: 'Have you lost your mind?' or perhaps 'How many times were you dropped on your head as a child?' Or even 'What the hell is wrong with you?!' But, looking at his proud grin and puffed up chest, she couldn't find the heart to. Instead she forced a wide smile onto her lips, and said: “I love it, Jumin!”

 Jumin cracked a wide grin, stepped forward to offer her the lead. She took it in a limp-wristed hand, still boggling at the beast.

 “His name is Sir Maximillian the Eighth.”

 At the sound of the familiar voice, trembling with mirth, MC's head snapped up, meeting V's gaze. The photographer had a purse-lipped smile, and amusement was written all over his features. She glared at him balefully, and he coughed to cover up a laugh.

 “Merry Christmas, MC. Jumin asked if I wouldn't mind taking some photographs of.. this.” He waved at the two of them. “Now, Jumin, step out of the way so I can get them both in the shot.”

 The tall man strode to stand by his childhood friend's side, watching proudly as V commanded her to look into the pony's eyes. She tugged on the halter, pulling his head up to meet her gaze. Intelligent brown eyes seemed to say: “You've married an idiot.”

 MC chuckled shakily and, as the camera shutter clicked in the background, whispered to the poor pony: “I've married an idiot.”