#if might be wrong but I’m pretty sure that even like normal kisses between like parents or background characters haven���t been seen

[legendoftherisingtide]

it has occurred to me that there hasn’t been a kiss in the entirety of the bnha series.

now can you imagine,, if the only one in the entire series,,, is a gay one.

[overlysour]

＃VARIOUS GENSHIN CHARACTERS♡ — THEM WHEN THEY’RE JEALOUS

VARIOUS GENSHIN MEN & WOMEN X READER ♡

Wanderer

He can’t help but want to savour your touches and smiles for himself but he knows he can’t keep you to himself.

You made an effort to interact with him, even with his big ego and judgemental comments. So why would you cheat on him?? What would you even get from that?

Also, his newly received anemo vision represented his freedom, so why would he take yours?

He would still be annoyed, probably rolling his eyes, glaring and overall being grumpy if he’s jealous, he’s not just gonna act like nothing is happening!

Might make a scene out of it… overall pretty petty even if you don’t get what you did wrong.

Probably ends up yelling at the person he’s jealous of after telling you someone needed help (did he throw an arrow at some stupid guy that stalks your neighbour? Yes! Was it just because he needed to distract you? Yes! (also partly because the neighbour wouldn’t shut up about how they have an admirer to you and he wanted attention)).

Aether

It really depends on the situation but he won’t act on what he deems to be unreasonable jealously. He thinks it’s unfair to act in that way when he’s been flirted with by many in front of you, though you still try not to react.

If he thinks it’s reasonable then he will act, just briefly though.

Would probably ask for help with a commission, muttering a sorry and making sure to give you a loving hug.

Understands the feeling of loosing someone very well so he’d want to still make it slightly obvious that you’re his and he’s yours.

Rosaria

Would likely threaten anyone making you uncomfortable in anyway.

If she’s just feeling jealous due to you speaking with someone closely then she absolutely won’t make a scene, though most likely asking who they were and what their relationship is with you.

Might make an excuse to walk off with you..

Overall chill but quick to threaten or drag you off.

Dottore

Doesn’t really come out of his lab much unless going to other nations for fatui missions so he wouldn’t really get the chance to watch you converse with others.

Though If he does get jealous then he’d be slightly colder to you then usual.

Petty as heck (much like many other characters but way more in a ‘I’m-gonna-kill-whoever-that-was’ type of way).

If you were his lover then he’d think high of you, meaning he’d think of stuff like ‘that measly brat doesn’t deserve someone like [Name]’

Wouldn’t make contact with the cause of his jealously, instead gaining small details about them just in case.

Quickly pulls you off, glaring at the probably already scared person.

Acts normal once away, might be the tiniest bit more affectionate.

Xiao

Understanding yet one to quickly go take out anger on any unsuspecting enemies he can find at that moment.

If it’s someone he trusts then he wouldn’t go let his anger out, instead opting to give you more affection then usual.

He doesn’t want to loose you, since he’s lost so many people over the years.

Though it wouldn’t to be death, he wonders if it’d make him feel worse knowing that he’d lost you to emotions.

Overprotective but watches from afar I guess??

Albedo

He’s well aware of human emotions but I think he’d be a little confused at first, like why was he jealous so easily? Also how is he feeling such intense feelings?

Treats it as an experiment on himself, though still making sure he’s keeping any more-than-friendly remarks off anyones tongues (he’d like to hope that you wouldn’t do that but he’s prepared to be a barrier between you two anyways)

Trusts you but won’t hesitate to send a cheeky smile at the person as he plants a kiss on your hand and you become increasingly flustered.

Ayaka

Absolutely makes no scene, she’d just feel a bit self-conscious.

If you give her lots of love then she’ll easily forget about it (though it may linger in her mind for a while no matter what).

Kind and collective, openly stating her worries with you if given encouragement or if you’re worried about her.

Venti

Honestly quite chill depending on what’s happening.

Though no matter the situation, he’ll butt in your conversation by kissing you and hugging your waist with an innocent smile.

Can be intimidating but would only ever act that way when no others can see him act like that, therefore nobody would believe the person and he’d be known as a cheerful and carefree bard!

Childe

Absolute child about it (pun not intended 😗).

He will hang onto your waist whilst he hugs your back as he glares at his source of jealously.

Acts like nothing happened afterwards, dragging you wherever suits him that he thinks you’d like.

Won’t really think about it again, only feeling the need to protect you from harm or people with the wrong intentions.

Diluc

Calm as long as it’s not much of a big deal, extremely understanding and not afraid to let people know that you two belong to each other only and any objections will be ignored.

If it’s a bigger deal then that, then he’ll keep his calm facade and act relatively normal and understanding but with a small loss of patience.

Worst case scenario, he’ll threaten them without a smile in sight.

Won’t pay much mind to what happened, only focused on perhaps kissing you on the cheek or hand a bit more.

Zhongli

A man that is genuinely not that easy to make jealous, seemingly always calm and knowledgeable.

If in a situation that he becomes jealous, he’ll kindly ask to speak with you and then express his feelings.

Would easily sort out any misunderstandings between you two.

To be continued. I will take requests on what characters people want included!

[softshuji]

𝟎𝟖:𝟐𝟓𝐀𝐌 | 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐉𝐈

Title: It's not like you're in love with him….right? 

Summary: You're not in love with him, despite how much you might want to be, despite how much he might love you. Reblogs Appreciated!

cw: fem! reader, some suggestive content but nothing too much, pet names (babe, doll, pretty girl), mutual pining, canon typical violence, reader and shuji are sickeningly in love. A little smth for Valentine's cos i'm a sap. Back to masterlist here.

You’re not in love with Hanma Shuji. You’re never under any impression that he can be anything other than what he already is, that his name alone speaks volumes anyway.

It feels sometimes, as if he has fooled everyone but you, as if you are the only person his charm has not lulled into stupefied affection. You listen sometimes, padding around the kitchen as he takes the call to Kisaki in the other room, his feet thrown up over the armrest of the sofa, a cigarette dangling unlit between his lips and a t- shirt that hangs lazily over his body, the sinew of his muscle peeking through the collar. 

You like him best like that. Unguarded, unaware, stripping back the blithe mask that he presses to his face every morning, as confidently as he dons the suit, the clean and sharp lines of his shirt tucked into even sharper dress pants.

You wonder if he practises it, the cloak he wears as armour, the easy smile, the grin that’s always quick to come and always with a promise of some mischief or another.

You like that side of him too, unpredictable and chaotic, with the zing of energy that bounces from his skin and you know, in those moments of his excitement, you would go anywhere with him, that he could buoy you along and carry you, drag you even, to hell and back.

You wonder if he knows that a simple grin has the blood in your veins pulsing in time with your pattering heart, if he knows that you reach for him at night when it’s colder than normal and his skin is warm and you can only think of the feeling of him as you slip into sleep.

But you’re not in love with him. That much is certain.

You like him when he laughs, big and beautiful and swallowing the light in the room and sometimes he’ll throw his head back and the curls will fall across his forehead, just shy of his nose and your hand will twitch with the need to brush them back, to linger on his cheek for the barest of moments, just to feel the heat, the delicious ache of being close to him. And maybe the copper flash of his eyes will fall on your wrist and flit to your lips and a hand will come out to grab you by the throat or waist, your heart punching a raucous tune against your ribs. Yes perhaps you have thought about kissing him, more than once. Perhaps you have thought about needily biting down on his lips, sliding your tongue along his and fisting the collars of his pressed shirt as he hums into your mouth. 

So what? It’s nothing new, he’s an attractive man and you’re under no illusions about the queues and lines of women who not only think the same but would trade anything for the opportunity of a single night of his time. 

You try to resist the urge to reach for him in the darker moments, a call away that you’re not sure he’d answer anyway, and fail spectacularly when you thumb through your contacts and your finger catches on a candid shot of him messing with a camera, the usual feline grin softened into something more tender. 

‘Something wrong Doll? You don’t usually call at this time,’ he says and you hear the revving of an engine behind, the squeal of tires and purr of his motorbike.

‘I’m sorry, I just missed you is all. I can’t sleep.’ It’s not entirely a lie, or a truth either but you think it’ll suffice and you hope he doesn’t detect the needy whine in your throat that always accompanies the furious heat across your neck when you’re this clingy with him. It’s out of your hands for the most part, inevitable. You wonder if he knows that too.

‘Mmh.’ And the drone of the bike peters off into something more smooth, the whoosh and whistle of wind spilling down the receiver. ‘You wanna come for a drive? You can give her a spin with me.’ 

You like that about him too, the ease with which he carries you with him, lifts and takes you, clutching onto his torso and burying your cheek against the shifting muscle of his back as he drives, often silently, a hand reaching for your wrist to draw a faint circle on. He never mentions it, and you like that too, that it is so effortless to exist with him, in this bubble he has made that has shunned anyone who isn’t him. 

But you’re not in love with him, you know that. 

You like him when he teases, and the hot flush of embarrassment makes a steady crawl towards your ears, creeping along the hairs on your arm. He likes that he can draw such visceral reactions from you like that, that the sliding of his hand along your thigh or the domineering way he grabs your chin to look at you when he knows you’re lying is enough to make you crumble under the weight of his gaze. And perhaps he’ll swipe his thumb along your lip and watch you frown and attempt to break his stare, sighing defeatedly when he tuts under his breath and tightens his grip. He likes that you’ve so willingly placed your life in his calloused hands, the scars brushing against your cheek. He likes you most like that, laughing, the heat of your nerves warm under his palms, the jump of your heart in your veins and still, choosing him above all things. 

Because he knows. 

He knows he’s rough and his words cut hard enough to make you bleed, that he’s unpredictable at the best and worst of times, that (in his own words) he is unstable, and not the rock you need. He’s unapologetic about it and you like that and maybe he likes that you like it, that you accept him enough not to question the chaotic part of himself that has only grown as he sprinted into adulthood over the years.

If he was more honest with himself or others, maybe he could admit he’s in love with you. 

But Hanma Shuji is not an honest man, and you’re under no illusions about what that could mean for you, and the inevitable heartbreak you know is coming should you take that leap of faith. It explains more than half of your caution, and you try not to let it get to you when he stumbles into your apartment in the middle of the night with a slash across his toned stomach and glassy eyes, his cuffs stained with blood that you can’t be sure isn’t his.

‘You can’t keep doing this Shuji babe,’ you say, a cotton gauze held to the red welling on his lip and your own trembling with the effort to hold yourself in check.

He frowns, the slip and slide of his perfect throat disappearing beneath the open collar of his stained shirt before grinning wildly, catching your wrist in one bloodied hand.

‘Mhm, you don’t like being my pretty little nurse anymore?’ But it stings in a way that has nothing to do with the antiseptic drying on his skin and he’s trying to sate the pain by rubbing circles onto your palm but you’re hurt, and he sees the wobble of your lip pulled by your teeth.

‘That’s not it.’

‘Then what is?’ He knows of course, he just wants to hear it, that you can’t run towards him anymore, that you don’t love him enough to hang onto him like dead weight and maybe he’ll be able to down some drinks and get over it but he needs to hear it.

‘I’m scared Shuji,’ you say and it hurts to speak under the weight of his stare. ‘I’m scared that one day you’re not coming back to me.’ 

You remember once, a long time ago in the early days of your relationship, the first time you had seen the nicks and bruises and cuts that graced his body, lashes of ridged scars on his back and chest that you had tentatively touched and you had wondered what he had seen and done to hurt like that. As you had run a finger over the slightly raised skin, he had caught your wrist and bent to kiss your palm, his eyes closed, the curve of his lashes spreading over the sharp cut of his cheekbones.

‘Best not to get attached’, he says, as if he has not spent the better part of the last few weeks waiting for an excuse to call you, to bombard your phone with messages, to turn up bloody and ragged at your door with a grin that he knows you’ll melt for. He knows it could end any day now. Maybe he won’t make it to your door, maybe you can’t fix him this time, maybe he isn’t half as heroic as you believe him to be.

‘C’mere pretty girl,’ he says this time, because he can’t make an empty promise to you again and it hurts enough as it is to watch the tears pool in your eyes knowing if he’d let you go, you’d have one less reason to cry.

So instead he pulls you onto his lap and holds you and for a second, a moment in time, he is not a gangster with blood on his hands. He is just a man who loves a girl. And maybe he likes you a little too much and he’s just as worn as the scuffs on his cigarette tin and you’re just pure and good and sweet and pretend not to see the stains on the cuffs of his shirt but for one night he wouldn’t mind sating his insatiable appetite with you, wouldn’t mind forgetting who he is and what he’s done just to taste the promise of you with his hands.

He wonders if this is what love is, if this tightness that borders on pain in his chest is what the shitty poets talked about. 

As much as you hate to admit it, there’s a certain level of pride that comes from being the one he looks for in the moments between, when he’s delirious with pain and murmuring profanities into your skin and you cup his face so gently, and brush the curls matted with blood from his forehead and press your lips to his nose and he’s closer to saying the three words than he’s ever been.

You like him in those softer moments. The blanket is too small for his frame and his legs dangle off the edge of the sofa, his lips are parted, an arm thrown over his eyes as the heating whirs in the background. A gauze is taped haphazardly to the gash in his stomach, the thin sheen of sweat glistening under the lamplight and a bottle of painkillers discarded somewhere, rolling on the floor. It’s how he always is. Bustling into your house, into your life, the chaotic frenzy dragging you along with him. Perhaps if you loved him any less you might be able to talk about it more.

So yes. Yes he’s beautiful, strikingly so. Yes he is funny beyond a doubt and a single grin from him is enough to have the nerves coiling tight in your stomach relaxing on instinct, and yes you think there will never come a day when you do not look for him at night, but you know that’s all it is.

After all, it's not like you're in love with him…right? 

a/n: I have nothing to say except I would eat the sun for him. Happy Valentines to the light of my eyes, the heart of my heart.

taglist: @reiners-milkbiddies @mxnjiros @prettyiolanthe @sugusshi @snakegentleman @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @bejeweled-night-33 @rinnndoll @the-travelling-witch @orchid3a @rottingreveries @qiiuusoup-xo @hoetani @sinfulseashell @welcome-to-the-internet-it-sucks @obitohno @sweet-seishu @burnishedcrown @saintokkotsu @nikokopuffs @sin-and-punishment @deskaisers @mochimiyaas @bertholdts--butt @theaonlax @blackfire2013 @wotakuhime @severellamahottub @anxious-chick

Send an ask or dm to be added! And if you saw this earlier, no you did not!

[lacucarachapisser]

sad to say i’m already yours colin zabel x gn!reader

a/n : okay omg it’s happening. beware of the cringe conversation and pathetic angst i really wanna punch myself in the face. no warning, this just too rush and lame and pretty basic also apologies if its weird cuz english isn’t my first im so so so so sorry. i just love colin sm.

this wasn’t the first time colin shut one's eyes to your presence. you’ve grown very used to his demanding job that takes energy, time, and even attention, which often makes you feel like you’re just a second priority. or perhaps not even counted. you think these all are pretty normal because colin is a very capable and responsible when it comes to work. and you get it.

you frequently texted him asking if he’s working late again. the dinner you’d prepared often ended up in the fridge. you waited for him with the light of the television or with an open book on your lap, while your eyes close from weariness. alone. his reply always comes with an apology buried in his deep voice. you get it.

sometimes you choose to sleep first, only to be awakened by the creaking of the door. your man, with his tired face, throws himself onto your shared bed.

"rough day?"

colin just nods, burying his face in the pillow with a long sigh.

“wanna talk about it?”

“can’t.”

he clearly didn’t have much contribution for the conversation he’ll just kill it. also, colin would likely act as if you weren’t there, so you just smile at his brief response. you actually not sure if you want to cry or laugh at that. the cases that colin handles are sometimes too horrific to share. besides, they’re confidential. you genuinely respect how dedicated your man is to his job. you get it.

colin turns his head slightly toward you, his eyes half-closed. you move closer, give him a quick kiss on his cheek and say goodnight. colin, already asleep, faster than you thought, doesn’t even flinch, nor does he say it back.

for days, communication between you two hasn’t been that intense— no dinners together, no movie nights like you used to plan on weekends, no dates. when was the last time you became intimate with each other? probably two weeks ago. or three? four? you get it.

“want me to make you some snacks?”

“no, that's okay baby.”

his voice was soft, and somehow, ironically you miss him so bad even though he was right next to you.

“i heard there’s a new coffee shop and they have like bunch of pet inside, interesting 'right?”

"uh-huh"

"yeah they have puppies! i really wanna go there,”

“sure. can we talk later, baby? i’m busy right now.”

although he comes home every day, sleeping in the same bed with you, his presence just clearly made you felt nothing but more alone. it hurts to see him come home every night as if you’re just a place to stay. never home, probably just a hostel. how cruel if he’d forgotten your efforts, how you filled his empty cup after what his ex did to him. you didn’t take the easy route to win him over. or maybe you were never capable to replace her in the first place? where did you went wrong? isn't it ironic to think how heartbreaking and sad that you already belong to him?

that day, he forgot his breakfast, and even the coffee you have made remained untouched. how long this has to continue? you don’t hate him, not for a second. it’s just that your efforts to make him happy always seemed to fail.

“colin, we need to talk.”

“about what?”

it takes courage for you to start this conversation. you’re actually scared to bring it up because colin might think you’re overreacting.

“i always tell myself that you don’t mean to hurt me— which makes it less painful. but you know what? you never really see me.”

you slowly touch his hand, feels the veins through his skin, strong beneath your fingers, firm and solid.

he gives you a crooked smile. “what’s wrong with you? of course i see you,”

“no. i know you’re busy with work, but… col, i’m right here. how long do i have to hold on to this if you keep acting like that? i can’t take it anymore,”

“baby, i have work to do,”

“oh can we talk later? we never really talk later. why can’t you at least recognize my existence that i’m here? talk to me,”

a bitter taste filled your mouth. it hurts to face colin's expression, one that looks disgusted with you—at least, that’s what you think. now he’ll even hate you because you crave his attention.

“okay, i’m sorry i’m always busy, it’s not my fault it takes up a lot of my time as if i have choices. but i promise—“

“no. stop,” you shook your head, protesting with what colin said.

“stop what?”

“you talk to me like i’m stupid. i’m not stupid. i didn’t blame your job, i would never,”

“i know you’re not stupid, but you did blame me for a stupid reason,”

there his classic maneuver. his words seem like a clever observation to shift the blame, but it's all wrong. that’s not the issue, it never was, and you’ve never blamed his job. your eyes start to fill up with tears, and soon they’ll spill over. the lines on colin's face looks vividly serious, gazing you with intense look.

“t-this is why your ex—"

colin’s hand quickly grabs your jaw. it’s not rough, but enough to surprise you and make you stop your sentence. you gasped at his furrowed brows, his expression so tense with his wide-open eyes.

“don’t.”

you immediately regret it. you didn’t mean to brought up his past, you truly didn’t intended to hurt him.

“please, don’t.” his hand is still gripping your jaw, but his fingers start to loosen, and his thumb gently strokes your cheek. your eyes are still locked with him, and then you realize that what you see in colin’s eyes isn’t anger. it was fear.

you throw yourself into his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck, muttering apologies between soft sobs. colin wraps his arms around you, holding you tight by the waist. he hides his face on your neck, pressing his body into yours with all his strength.

“colin, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry…”

for a moment, he becomes a complete silent. letting you stay in each other’s embrace. then he finally speaks.

“don’t leave me. please, not again.”

[lace-coffin]

How do you think Asa would deal with somebody having and anxiety attack? Maybe someone who is in his collection having a panic attack because they're scared that he might get bored or tired of them and get rid of them.

Sorry if this is an awkward subject to write about. If it makes you uncomfy or anything please feel free to ignore. Hope you have a good day/night 😊❤️

How would Asa Emory comfort reader when they’re having a panic attack?

Asa Emory x gn!Reader

Requests are open!

Tw for slight self harm (skin picking)

Thank you so much for this! Keep the asa requests coming because I cannot physically be normal about this man and love writing for him 💖 I appreciate you asking if I’m comfy writing it to! Super sweet!

It all happens so quickly, you’re minding your business, doodling on a notepad in your room at the hotel. Asa bid you goodbye with a kiss on the forehead and a reminder to be good a few hours ago and you’re keeping yourself occupied until his return. You kind of wish you could go with him but you quickly remeber what goes on in the lower sections of the hotel you’re kept away from and decide it’s probably best you don’t. You’ve been there once before and that was enough to satisfy your curiosity for life.

The day continues on like this, keeping yourself entertained and flickering your eyes over the to clock every so often. Eventually it hits 8pm, usually Asa is back around this time, give or take fifteen minutes. Noticing this you scramble to sit pretty on your knees next to the door, waiting for him to return eagerly.

Asa is late, later than usual, it’s not uncommon for things to run over longer than Asa plans, victims being rowdy, traps not working as he hoped, but a seed of doubt settles deep into your stomach. He is coming back…he’ll be back soon.

More time passes and your stomach starts to twist, nausea setting in rapidly, you crawl of out position and sit cross legged. The longer the minutes tick on the deeper you spiral, what if he isn’t coming back? Maybe he’s hurt? No, he’s always prepared if things go south. Did you do something wrong?

You rely on him all the time but it’s not like you have a choice, he’s the one who ripped you from your home and imprisoned you. You rely on him to feed you, wash you, tell you what to do and when to do it…god you sound pathetic, no wonder he doesn’t want you anymore, but isn’t that what he desired? Your complete submission and dedication? The thought makes a sob bubble up on your throat.

Its all too much too quickly, the harsh words and doubt clogging up more and more of your mind until it’s all you can think of, all you can breath. You start to tremble and you know what’s coming, but you don’t know how to help it. Sure enough the hyperventilating starts, gulping for air between shaky sobs, rocking to try ground yourself.

Why would he go to all this effort to hide you away and mould you into his perfect specimen if he was just going to throw you away once he got bored? Didn’t you mean more to him than that or were you just deluded by his affection?

You don’t know how long you’ve been hunched over on the bedroom floor by the time you hear the door open, Asa shrugging off his coat and gloves, at this point you don’t even perk up or move to greet Asa as normal.

Asa was concerned when you weren’t in your usual agreed place, heart rate picking up as he looks for you. His eyes land on you curled into yourself, small cries wracking your body. his eyes soften at the sight, he knew he should’ve called you to let you know he’d be later than usual but it slipped his mind…shit

If physical affection during panic attacks is helpful for you then he’ll announce his presence quietly enough for you to hear him and know he’s there but not enough to startle you even worse. Asa will run his hand through your hair gently and adress you.

If physical affection is off the table during a panic attack Asa will move to sit down next to you after announcing himself, grunting at the way his knees crack on the way down to you.

“I’m sorry I’m late home, things didn’t go as I wanted and I ended up having to stay later, but I’m here now. Please tell me what’s gotten you so upset cricket?” He coos at you affectionately. Usually he’d punish you for not being in your spot on time but not today, today is different.

You trip over your words, trying to get what’s bothering you across to him between sobs and gasps before Asa shushs you. “Don’t hurt yourself, you can tell me once you’re feeling better, just copy me ok?” Asa gives some example deep breaths, holding them for a few seconds before releasing slowly. He waits patiently for you to join in until your breathing in sync, your physically separate but it feels personal and intimate, especially coming from someone as stony cold as your sir.

Eventually you calm down enough to speak, still out of breath and teary but much better than before, Asa always has had that affect on you, being a place of comfort compared to the usual terror he instils in others. He prompts you once again to tell him what’s causing all this, you hesitate but slowly start explaining, getting slightly more upset as you reveal your concerns.

Asa’s lips drop into an unhappy straight line, hating to see you like this and hating that it could’ve been avoided if he wasn’t so forgetful.

“May I hold you pet?” He asks for confirmation before pulling you into his lap, letting you cry into his shoulder, he couldn’t care less about the tears and snot you’re leaving on his turtle neck right now.

“Silly cricket, don’t you see how much you mean to me? I’m not one to tiptoe around my feelings, if I’d had enough of you as you put it you wouldn’t be on my lap right now, however I’d say that’s improbable considering you’re my entire world”

Asa tugs the O ring on your collar and moves your chin up to look him in his black scleras. “I’m not sick of you now and I never will be, you belong here, to me, and that’s final” Asa thumbs over your cheek bone and gives you a sweet chaste kiss.

You sit like this in Asa’s lap for a while as he rocks you, whispering affirmations and sweet words into the crook of your neck. Eventually he sits you back on the floor and takes your hand, pulling you with him but not letting your hand go. “We should probably get this cleaned up shouldn’t we pup?” Asa holds up your hands in front of your face, cuticles red and bloody. You didn’t even realise you’d been doing it in the height of your panic.

“Nothing to be ashamed of pet, let me patch you up and I’ll make us some dinner, it’s past your dinner time after all. Maybe if you’re good for the rest of the evening you can sleep with sir tonight, would you like that?”

You nod happily and follow him into the bathroom to treat your wounds, a shy smile creeping its way onto your face and a flutter in your heart.

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to send me more Asa requests!

[syrupfog]

Penguin and Killer aren’t dating. 

They see each other when their ships align. Hole up in a hotel room for an evening, Penguin leaves rosy and happy, but Penguin and Killer are not dating. 

And Penguin likes it that way. Which is why he’s pretty upset when Killer asks him out.

He doesn’t say no, because he loves Killer. He loves seeing Killer, loves kissing Killer, loves sitting in his lap and sucking bruises into his neck. 

He’s just sad that their time together is on a timer now. It’s a few weeks at best, for sure.

He doesn’t mention it when he returns to the Tang after a few days in a bed & breakfast that Killer had rented for them. Brushes it off the first few times Shachi tries to inquire about what’s wrong (curse Shachi and his ability to sense Penguin’s moods).

In retrospect, that was the wrong way to handle it because if Shachi’s good for one thing, it’s getting to the bottom of situations Penguin’s gotten himself into. 

Shachi asks Law if he knows what’s up, and Law asks Penguin (who, again, says he’s fine, fuck off) and when neither of them get the answer from him, Law goes to Kid. Like, what, is Penguin Law’s child, now? Is this his mum going to ask the other child’s mum why they’re in a row? Kid tells Law to get off his ship (typical) and then acts confused at his request.

“Your bird guy’s going steady with Killer now and he’s fucking upset about it? Well tell him to just break up with Killer if he’s so fucking miserable then, who needs him? 

Ah, and Law connects the dots. 

He tells Eustass to go fuck himself and shambles back to his ship.

“Penguin,” he says when he finds him. Casually. “The Kid pirates are out there if you want to say hello to your man.” 

Penguin, predictably, flinches a moment before he recovers. “Oh, yeah,” he says, jumping up. “Thanks for the heads up, Captain!”

He runs off in the direction of the deck and Shachi, who had been cleaning the mess, watches him go. “You figure out what it is yet?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” says Law. “They’re dating.” 

“Like, officially?” 

“Looks like it.” 

“Ah. Shit.”

Penguin bounds up to the top deck and jumps down into the water, swimming the short distance to the Punk and climbing up. He’s met first by Kid, who gives him a scowl. 

“You been in a bad mood?” He asks. “What, second thoughts about my first mate?” 

Penguin balks, ducking. “No,” he argues, maybe a bit weakly. “Nothing like that.” 

“Feh.” Kid crosses his arms. “You break his heart, you can tell your captain our alliance is over.” 

Penguin, on better days, might take this opportunity to run off to Killer and start thinking up pranks for Kid. As it is, he considers running back to his own ship with his tail between his legs. 

He lets out a startled squeak when, in the heat of the moment, he’s hoisted into the air, realising a moment later as he’s carried off that Killer’s found him.

“Welcome back, Peng,” Killer says, carrying him unceremoniously under his arm. “Wasn’t expecting to see you so soon!” 

“Yeah, me neither,” Penguin says. It occurs to him that Law had said it would probably be weeks until they ran into each other again. What happened there?

“Not that I’m complaining,” Killer continues, carrying Penguin the familiar route down to his room. Once inside, he plops him on the bed. “You feeling okay? You’re quieter than normal.” 

“Fine!” Penguin squeaks, then dives in for a kiss. Kissing is good.

Killer returns the kiss hungrily, and it’s nice. It’s good. They spend a long time doing just that. 

Penguin actually doesn’t let them do much else. 

It’s nice. It’s good. 

Hours later, Wire sticks his head in to say the Hearts need Penguin back, they’re going to head off.

One date down, Penguin thinks as he leaves. 

— 

Over the next few weeks, Shachi makes a few comments. About how Killer seems like a good guy, he seems like he really loves Penguin, and so on. 

Penguin nods, absentmindedly. “Sure,” he says. “Yeah, totally.”

They meet up on a summer island too hot to do much more than just lay in front of an open window and touch their fingertips together. It’s sweltering. 

Penguin, timidly, talks about his current obsession (leaf pressing). Killer listens and smiles and his eyes crinkle.

They meet up on a winter island with onsen. Law has an actual fact finding mission for them, but when the Punk docks next to them, he suddenly dismisses Penguin, replacing him with Clione. 

Penguin wonders why. Does Law think he’s going to spill something to Killer?

He’s quiet during their date. The water is hot and Killer’s hands are strong where they knead into his shoulders but Penguin worries. Did Killer approach Law? Is it happening already? 

“Peng,” Killer says, slowly. “As much as I love this, I’m feeling like you’re somewhere else.”

Penguin is, in fact, very much somewhere else. He smiles at Killer. It doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Why do you think Law released me from the mission they’re all on, today?” 

Killer’s hand moves to the nape of his neck. Comforting. Heavy. “Because I asked him to, I suspect.”

“You what?” Penguin asks. Killer shrugs, looks unashamed. “I’m not going to apologise for wanting to see my boyfriend,” he says. 

“You can’t just—“ Penguin’s shoulders tense up. This was a mistake. “You can’t just think you can talk to Law whenever you want,” he says hoarsely.

Killer frowns. “Why not?” he asks. 

“Because we’re dating!” 

“I have to stop talking to your captain because we’re dating?” Killer looks unimpressed. 

“Yes,” says Penguin. Then, “no.” Then, “I mean that— you can’t start because we’re dating.” 

“Peng…” Killer pauses. “I’ve talked to your captain in the past,” he says. “This isn’t new.” 

Penguin snaps his mouth shut. His heart is in his stomach. “Oh,” he says. “Okay.” 

“No, hold on,” Killer says. “Not okay, I think. Give me more. What exactly are we talking about?” 

“It’s just—” Penguin wilts. “If— When you— Law’s not going to just give in with whatever you ask because you’re dating me.” 

It sounds lame to say it out loud. 

Killer reels back though, putting distance between them, and Penguin shrinks in on himself a bit. 

“He did today,” Killer points out.

“Yeah, I mean that’s different.” Penguin tries again. “Like, whatever it is you want from him, dating me doesn’t mean he’ll give it to you.” 

“Peng…” Killer’s face grows very serious. “Do you think I’m dating you to get close to your captain?” 

Penguin focuses on his knees. They’re bright pink in the water. “Aren’t you?” he asks. 

“I’m honestly pretty fucking upset you’re implying that,” Killer says, and Penguin ducks lower into the bath. “Why— why would you have said yes when I asked you to be my boyfriend then?” 

Pathetically, Penguin’s lower lip wobbles. “Because I like you,” he says, very quietly. “And I thought at least until you figure out you can’t get anything from him, it would still be nice.” 

He can feel Killer’s eyes on him, but he refuses to look up. Maybe the steam can disguise the wetness in his eyes.

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you’re accusing me of being a complete asshole,” Killer says, voice steely. 

Penguin, briefly, reminds himself of where the exits are. He knows he’s faster than Killer in the water.

“And instead I’m going to ask how many other supposed partners have done that to you.” 

“I mean…” Penguin hedges, sinking until the bottom of his hat hits the water. “All of them. I know that’s why people date me.” 

It’s true. He should know better by now.

There’s silence at that response. Penguin’s counting himself down to kicking off the wall and swimming to the far side to make a run for it when Killer reaches out and puts his hand back on the nape of Penguin’s neck. 

Warm. Heavy. A trap. 

“Peng,” he says again. Slower. Like he’s pained. “Baby.”

Penguin starts babbling.“Listen, I can just go and we’ll never talk about this again. I’m sorry I brought it up. Maybe— I mean, Law likes you. Like, he doesn’t usually like who I bring home. So, you do have a chance probably—“ 

Killer puts a hand over Penguin’s mouth.

“The only thing I want from Law,” Killer drawls, “is for him to like me enough to let me on his ship so that I can see you.” 

Penguin frowns. He resists his impulse to lick Killer’s palm. 

“I’m sorry that all those assholes couldn’t see you���re the best thing to happen to them.”

He moves closer, back into Penguin’s space. “But I’m not sorry they were kicked to the kerb, as they should have been, because I personally like being your boyfriend. When you’re not accusing me of trying to use you.” 

Penguin tears up. Killer removes his hand from his mouth.

“Now, can I get a list of these guys so I we have names of who to hunt down?” 

Laughing wetly, Penguin scrubs at his face with his hands. “Law likes to take care of it,” he says. 

“Killing?” 

“Missing body parts.” 

Killer nods. “Acceptable.”

He leans over and fits his chin over Penguin’s hat. “We’re going to talk about the self esteem thing later,” he says. 

“We are?” squeaks Penguin. 

“But for now I think we have about two hours before someone comes looking for us, and I want to hear you talk more about that thing— That thing you like. The leaf thing.” 

“Leaf pressing,” Penguin corrects, steady on familiar ground. 

“Yeah.” Killer leans against him. 

Heavy. Warm. Assuring. 

“Tell me about the leaves.” 

And Penguin does.

Later on, when Penguin returns to the Tang looking rosy and cheery, he announces to the whole crew that he has a boyfriend. 

Shachi and Law breathe sighs of relief. They both knew this one was a good one, as much as Law hates that he’s a Kid pirate.

[milogreer]

finally getting around to posting this geordi/cutie fic i teased a few weeks ago! sorry for the wait 😅 2.6k words of a little angst leading to fluff 💖 enjoy!

They look tired. They just got off a plane, of course they’re tired. Yeah, but, like. They look tired. Even with only a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a rolling suitcase dragging along behind them, Cutie somehow looks as though they’re carrying the weight of the world. Are they okay? Hmm. Maybe they had just a bad flight. Have they seen me yet? No, they’re still looking around. Call them or something, why are you just-

Their eyes lock, finally, and even from across the room and with what feels like a thousand people between them, Geordi can see the way Cutie’s entire body relaxes at the sight of him. They meet halfway, Cutie’s bag thudding to the ground as they all but fall into Geordi’s embrace and bury their face in his chest.

See? I think they’re upset. Or they just missed me. I missed them. God, that week felt like a month. I hope they had fun with their family though. I wonder what they’re like. They don’t talk about them much. Are they all telepaths? At least one of them is, I’m pretty sure. That doesn’t matter right now, I should tell them-

“I missed you.” He pulls out of the hug just enough to press a lingering kiss to their forehead. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I missed you too.” They hold his gaze for a moment, eyes shiny and brow furrowed the tiniest bit, before looking away. “Can we go?”

Like a flipped switch, the bustle of the airport around them comes back into focus. Geordi steps back, fighting the urge to look around to see if anyone’s watching them. It was just a forehead kiss. Who cares if anyone saw it?

“Yeah, of course. I’ll get your bags.”

There’s definitely something wrong. It’s been twenty minutes and they’ve barely said two words. They’re just looking out the window, they might just be jet lagged. Does jet lag only affect sleep cycles or does it make you sleepy too? They haven’t asked to link yet. That’s weird. Is it weird? 

Geordi sneaks a peak out of the corner of his eye. Cutie’s slouched against the car door, their elbow on the arm rest and chin in hand, head resting on the window. Normally they’d be singing along to the radio and giggling when they mess up a lyric, but today they’re just… quiet. To say Geordi’s concerned would be an understatement - Cutie’s almost never this quiet. It’s a little scary.

They look like they’re thinking about something. Oh, shit. They’re not waiting for me to invite them in, are they? They’ve never been shy about asking before. Geordi frowns. He taps anxiously on the steering wheel. Was I late picking them up? They said their flight landed at eleven, I got there at ten thirty just to be safe. Wait, I couldn’t have been late, I watched the plane land, for Christ’s sake. So what did I do?

Taking in a deep breath and trying to disguise his tone from the fact that he’s winding himself up for likely no reason, he asks, “How, uh, how was your flight?”

“Fine.” Cutie doesn’t look over, just continues gazing out the window at the passing landscape. The word seems to stick in their throat. “Slept through it.”

Good. “That’s good.” I guess.

They only shrug in response, and the rest of the car ride passes in silence.

It’s not until they’re safely at home, luggage ditched by the front door and the rest of the world shut out behind them, that Geordi finally gathers enough courage to speak again.

“You haven’t said much since I picked you up.” He keeps his worry as light as possible as he watches Cutie collapse onto the couch, their back against the arm and their legs stretched out along the cushions. “Is everything okay?”

With a pitiful sounding sigh, Cutie signs, “can’t talk” before their hands drop onto their stomach.

Can’t? Or won’t? Shut up.

“Well, if you want to talk, you can come in.” He gestures to his head with a meek smile. “I promise I won’t sing “It’s A Small World” this time.”

His attempt to lighten the mood works; Cutie exhales through their nose and rolls their eyes, but they’re smiling at the same time. It only lasts a moment though before their expression drops, overtaken again by exhaustion. They hold out their arms, silently requesting Geordi join them on the couch.

So they’re not mad at me? Jesus, give it a rest, Geordi.

“Scoot down a little, I’ll sit behind you.”

No sooner has Geordi settled into the corner of the couch than Cutie’s shuffling up into his lap and tucking themselves against him, their head nestling into the crook of his neck. A contented sigh escapes them as Geordi shakes out the throw blanket from the back of the couch to cover the two of them.

“Better?”

They hum affirmatively.

Should I ask again if they want in? I don’t want them to feel pressured, but they didn’t answer me last time. I could just talk about my week. But what if they want to talk about theirs after all? … Ugh, I hate when they go nonverbal- No, that’s not true, I just need to work with them. It’s okay. Just get over it and ask.

“You wanna talk about it, or should I give you a riveting play-by-play of how boring this week without you was?”

“Tell me everything,” they sign.

So he does, even though there isn’t really much to tell. He doesn’t have half the social life Cutie does; he much prefers staying home with his video games over going out with a big group of people. But he makes a show of his storytelling, recalling with intense emotion how the ending of a show he’d been watching had absolutely bombed and how he’d had a rather heated debate about said show with one of his coworkers. He tells them about a new board game he picked up that he thought they might like, about a recipe his mom had sent him that they had to make together as soon as possible because it sounds amazing, and about he’d finally won that one annoying boss fight he’d been stuck on for days before their trip.

“What do you mean, “tell me more?” I’ve been talking for an hour,” Geordi says with a laugh. “I think I’m out of material. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t live a very exciting life. The most fun I had last week was getting a free Frosty from Wendy’s on accident.”

Cutie laughs for the first time, and the warmth that spreads through him is like standing in direct sunlight after a week of rain. I love their laugh. It’s sweet. They’re cute when they smile. Are they feeling better now? I hope so. Fuck, I’m thirsty. I can’t get up right now. They look comfortable. Unless…

“Are you hungry? Did you eat before your flight?”

After a brief pause wherein they glance away shamefully, they shake their head.

Oh no. That upset them. I don’t want them to feel bad, it’s not a big deal. Yeah, we can just eat now. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll just find something to eat now.” He pats their leg reassuringly, drawing their attention back to him. “Caaan I get a kiss first?” 

Their smile, even as small as it is right now, is infectious. They hold up their hand, index finger and thumb almost touching.

  “Just a little one?” 

Cutie nods, then tilts their head as if in thought before signing, “for now,” and winking at him. 

The unexpected playfulness after their recent gloominess makes him laugh. Cutie pushes up to kiss him, one arm hooked around his neck to pull him close - his laugh turns into a gasp of surprise at the force of it. The position they’re in isn’t the most comfortable for kissing, which is just as well; true to their word, Cutie breaks the kiss seconds later. 

Do they look happier now? Lighter. Not so sad. I hate when they’re sad. They deserve to be happy. I’m glad I make them happy. They make me happy.

“I love you.”

Their cheeks darken, bottom lip caught between their teeth to keep their smile contained. “Can I still come in?”

Relief floods through him. He hadn’t realized he was still this worried about their missing connection. “Yeah, of course.”

A beat of silence passes, then-

I love you too.

The sound of their voice reverberating in his head is comfortingly familiar. After a week of stress and boredom and missing them so badly it sometimes kept him up at night, it’s finally feeling like home around here again. 

That was cute. You’re cute.

Cutie giggles. I’m glad to be home.

Me too. It feels like home again. “Now, come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

They roll obediently off the couch, springing to their feet with the energy of their old self. They clasp their hands in front of them and bat their eyes sweetly at Geordi. Can you make pancakes-

With chocolate chips? they finish in unison, breaking into laughter seconds later.

You know me so well. 

There’s an emotion tied to their statement that Geordi doesn’t readily understand. Why do you sound surprised? “That wasn’t weird, was it?” I didn’t think it was weird, but-

It wasn’t weird, they assure him, signing along with their thoughts as they hop up into one of the chairs at the counter while Geordi circles to the other side of the kitchen island. It’s just… They shrug in what he imagines is meant to be indifference, though their facade doesn’t fool him. People don’t usually know that kind of stuff about me.

You sound sad. Don’t be sad. I mean, you know, you can be sad, I just mean, he rifles through cabinets, pulling out the ingredients for pancakes, “I know a lot of little things about you.” Weirdo. It’s not weird! “Like, I know that you like to sleep on the side of the bed farthest away from the door, and that your favorite color right now is neon pink but that it’ll probably change by next week. I know you like cats but you’re allergic to them. Your favorite candy flavor is green apple because you like that it’s only a little sour.” Okay, maybe it is getting a little too much, I should-

“Geordi.”

His name being said out loud, the first time they’ve spoken verbally since going nonverbal, makes him jump, nearly fumbling the skillet he’s just pulled out. 

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “That was a lot, I know-”

Cutie reaches a hand out across the island, palm flat on the cold marble. Hold on, let me finish. With a visible swallow, Geordi gently sets the skillet on the stovetop and nods. “It’s not too much. I think it’s sweet that you remember all that about me.” Their voice softens, so much so that it’s barely audible even in his head. My parents don’t even know pancakes are my favorite.

Uh oh. Parent mention. Is that why they were upset? Did they get into it on their trip? Stop it, that’s not my business. Well, they brought it up, am I supposed to not be curious? They don’t ever talk about them. Geordi shakes his head to reorient himself, then addresses Cutie directly. Sorry. Obviously you don’t have to talk about it- about them- if you don’t want to.

“Maybe later?” they sign, and the discomfort written across their face makes Geordi’s stomach turn. 

“Whenever you’re up to it. I won’t push you.”

With their hands pressed to their heart, they say, Thank you.

You don’t have to thank me. I want you to feel comfortable. For added sincerity and also just out of habit, he signs as well as audibly says, “I love you.”

Cutie returns the gesture, blowing a kiss for good measure that Geordi pretends to catch, holding his closed fist to his chest. They both laugh, and he turns to start cooking. 

Anyway, Cutie says, tapping at their phone until soft music starts to play from the plant-shaped speaker on the island, is there anything I can do to help?

You’re supposed to be relaxing. Cooking can be relaxing. I think it is, at least. And cooking together is always fun. There’s not a whole lot to do with pancakes, but- “You wanna come add the chocolate chips?”

Cutie wastes no time joining Geordi on his side of the island, scooping up the bag of chocolate chips and palming a handful. 

Now?

“Yeah, it’s almost ready to flip.”

They bump him gently out of the way to meticulously sprinkle chocolate chips amongst the batter sizzling in the pan until it’s almost more chocolate than pancake. They drop the rest of the chips from their palm into their mouth.

Geordi chuckles as he moves back over to flip the pancake. Always the sweet tooth. 

Almost as sweet as me. Cutie grins cheekily.

Cute. So cute. Kiss? No, they said no more kisses. For now. “Almost,” he agrees, tapping the tip of their nose with his index finger to pull another smile out of them.

They wrap their arms around him from behind while he cooks, cheek nuzzling the soft fabric of his hoodie. Thank you. 

The abrupt spike in heart rate makes his hand tremble faintly. For what?

For loving me.

Geordi’s racing mind stills, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. Gently, he unwinds their arms from his waist so he can turn to face them, holding their hands in both of his. His brow’s furrowed as his thoughts kickstart into overdrive, much too fast for Cutie to catch most of, struggling to find the right words to say that don’t make him sound like a bumbling idiot. 

“I feel like,” he says slowly, the corners of his lips twitching like he’s trying to hold back a smile, “if I try to tell you to not thank me for that you’ll argue with me.” Cutie nods matter-of-factly. Yeah, exactly. “So, instead, I’ll say thank you for, y’know…” He looks down at their hands, his thumbs rubbing idly against their skin. Showing me that it’s okay to love again. And that I can be loved too.

Eyes sparkling with adoration, Cutie brings their joined hands to their chest, rising up onto their toes to meet him in a kiss; their choked-up I love you is echoed by Geordi’s. Their arms wrap around his neck as his encircle their waist, both basking in the feeling of their bodies pressed together after so long apart.

Missed you. Missed this. Touching you. Holding you. I’m glad you’re home. It was lonely without you. I love you. A week is too long. Ugh, that’s clingy, isn’t it? Not now, brain. You taste sweet. Like chocolate.

Like they’ve been burned, Cutie pulls away with a sharp gasp, gripping Geordi’s upper arms in their panic. “The pancake!”

Relegated safely off to the side of the stove, Cutie watches with bated breath as Geordi snatches the spatula from the countertop to rescue the pancake. He flips it onto a plate, and -

He sighs in defeat, staring at the burnt pancake with a grimace. 

Yeah, that’s, uh…

It’s not that bad.

Geordi scoffs, though it’s more amused than derisive. You’re telling me you’ll eat that? The stretch of silence that follows his question is answer enough even without the way Cutie wrinkles their nose. I didn’t think so. He chucks it into the bin.

Sorry for distracting you.

“I think that was more important than one pancake. Don’t worry.”

Sufficiently reassured, Cutie sidles up close to his side again as he preps the next pancake.

I’m going to put a smiley face on this one.

That is horrible distribution. 

Cutie laughs, hooking their arm around Geordi’s free one. But it’s cute!

He kisses the top of their head. As long as you’re happy.

[captain-mj]

Imagine if Graves started to call Price absolutely ridiculous pet names(Pookie bear, Snuggles, Doodlebug, etc.) To get on his nerves, but Price secretly starts to like it. Then Graves just randomly stops and Price corners him asking him why he stopped.

Time to push my Cajun Graves onto everyone.

“Can you pass me that, dumpling?”

Price almost died. Right then and there. In front of everyone.

The entire 141 finally made quiet.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said can you pass me that?” Graves looked mildly annoyed. Farah and Ghost were exchanging looks to make sure they both heard it.

Price chalked it up to mishearing until the item, a mug, was in Graves’s hand.

“Thank you, dumpling.”

The reaction was immediate. Soap coughed so hard his face turned red. Gaz stared at them. Ghost had his face on the table but it wasn’t clear if he was laughing or crying.

Graves poured the coffee into the mug and made the escape before anyone could manage to get words.

Price just stared at where Graves was.

Dumpling??

-

For a while, it seemed to have stopped. No big deal. Probably just Graves in a silly mood.

Price was talking about how Brandy was made after Graves asked. He had a feeling he was just humoring his interests, but Price knew Graves didn't like talking that much, so they both got something out of it.

"Stud muffin, I really don't get how you remember all this stuff." Graves's accent thickened when he said that.

Price paused, just staring at him for a minute. Like before, it mostly caught him off guard, not made him upset.

"What did you call me?"

"Stud muffin. American phrase." Graves smiled at him. "So about the distilling."

"What does it mean?"

"It's just a nickname, John. What else were you going to say?"

Price couldn't remember, feeling more flustered than usual. He ended up picking a random spot and guessing by the way Graves smirked, it was the wrong one.

While Graves was away, he looked it up.

stud·muf·fin

/ˈstədˌməf(ə)n/

a man perceived as sexually attractive, typically one with well-developed muscles.

Price felt his face heat up even more. He had learned from Alex that dumpling was just a term of endearment, but stud muffin seemed substantially more flirty.

And in public!

While they were getting in the car, Graves leaned into him. "Thanks for the night out, Doodlebug."

Price's internal monologue was just screaming. "Any... Any um..." He took a deep breath. "Anytime."

Graves laughed a little.

-

The next one. The next one Price already knew.

"Ain't you a Casanova." Every time. Every time Graves used one of these godforsaken nicknames, his accent dripped in his voice like honey and Price wanted to drown in it. Normally, Graves kept it carefully tamped down, trying to sound professional and neutral. Price would be a liar if he ever said he didn't absolutely love his voice.

Price found himself just staring again.

Graves stared back at him for a minute, still smiling but there was a bit of tension to his shoulders.

"Yes." Price said slowly and Graves laughed hard.

"I love you so much, beau." This nickname, Price was more than familiar with. It meant handsome in French and Graves used it pretty often.

"I love you too, honey?" Price said the nickname like a question and Graves's lips pursed slightly.

-

The next time, they were in bed. More precisely, Price was in Graves. It was slow, lazy sex, more kissing than thrusting between them.

"Oh, Lover boy, don't know how I managed without you." Graves mumbled above him, moving to straddle him.

Once again, sirens in Price's brain. He felt so flustered suddenly and at a loss for words. Graves didn't seem to notice, continuing to move.

Once they were done, Price hugged him to his chest.

Lover boy might be his favorite yet. Though, that may just be because of how Graves says it. Or what Graves said it with. Or anything.

Price held Graves tight so he wouldn't look up and see how red he was.

-

He stopped. Two weeks and no one new nicknames. No reappearance of any of the old ones either. Price was back to strictly being sweetheart and if it was special occasion, beau.

"I can't fucking live like this." He groaned into his pillows. Just the thought of Graves's voice, calling him those nicknames, made him melt. They were all so damn cute and Graves was so fucking cute and...

Price stood up and went to find him. He ended up cornering him in the hallway, watching him press against the wall.

"Everything alright, John?"

"You stopped using the nicknames. The cute southern ones."

Graves looked surprised before blushing. "Ah. Yes. I..."

"Why?"

"Well... I only really did them to tease you... But you didn't seem to like them so I stopped."

Price stared at him.

"You're doing it again! When you just look at me and you don't talk. I thought you didn't like them so I stopped!"

"I like them. A lot."

"Oh." Graves stared up at him. "Which one was your favorite?"

"Lover boy." No hesitation. "I thought it was cute..."

Graves laughed softly. "You were so dramatic. I thought you were going to rip my head off, pumpkin."

"I also like when you use your accent. It sounds pretty." Price pressed against him, trapping him. "Use it more."

"That an order lover boy?"

"It is, stud muffin."

Graves clearly shut down, having almost the same reaction Price did. Hearing that phrase in his british accent made his thoughts go fuzzy.

Price left before his brain started working again.

"God I love that man."

[16bruises]

Mind’s Eye

blue is (y/n)

important information for writers who use google docs

word count: 1k

A woman’s intuition *chef kiss* Part 2 of Parasocial

“What a lover’s heart knows let no man’s brain dispute.”

-Aberjhani

I think (Y/n) knows. Or suspects something at least.

I don’t know which is worse. If she knew I wasn’t of this universe… she would know something happened to her Miguel. She might even realize I did that something.

If she suspects something else… cheating? maybe��� I don’t know what I’d do. I’d never. Never. I’ve crossed the multiverse for this perfect family.

Maybe she suspects some kind of addiction. That would also be bad. That would be careless, thoughtless, and selfish. That would put her and Gabriella in harm's way. I couldn’t do that.

I don’t know what she suspects. I know it’s something. I saw her looking at me, she looked confused and nervous. Almost scared.

It made me feel sick.

I don’t know what she knows. I don’t know what gave me away.

I did my research. I know all the inside jokes, the references, and the signals she and her Miguel had.

Those are ours now, and I know them by heart.

I couldn’t have missed one of them. It had to have been something else.

I know everything about Gabriella, everything about (y/n), so what?

What was it? How did she find out?

Was it when I folded the clothes- did I fold them wrong?

Was it that I couldn’t calm down Gabriella last week and I got upset?

Was it when I dropped a glass while doing the dishes?

My mind is spiraling with a thousand little moments where I could’ve acted wrong. Sounded wrong. Looked wrong.

——

Miguel fell first, and I fell harder. I’m pretty sure.

I fell so hard. But he caught me and we were perfect because we loved each other so much.

When you fall for someone so hard, you just know them. Especially after being with them for years.

I’m not completely sure when I realized something was wrong, but once I realized it... I just couldn’t undo it.

I wish I could. I wish I could live in blissful ignorance and pretend that man was my husband.

But that’s not my husband.

I don’t know who or what that is. But it’s not my husband. No matter how much it may look and sound like him.

The realization came suddenly. Like when you realize what’s just about to happen in a movie. He was laying beside me in bed.

I’ve always had this habit of watching him sleep, I used to think I was so creepy for it but I stopped thinking that when my Miguel caught me and said he’d done the same thing. He’s always been so beautiful and peaceful in his sleep. But something just clicked that night. And I knew.

I just knew.

I knew something was very very wrong and I could feel my stomach drop. It was terrifying.

Almost like he knew in that moment too, his arms tightened around me. I didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. I knew too much and nothing all at once. It was very confusing.

This man, this Miguel, fell first. Just like my Miguel. But he’s falling harder too.

He’s doing both.

There’s something very beautiful and poetic about the connection between two people who deeply love each other. I love Miguel so much, he’s the love of my life, the father of my child, and my other half.

My Miguel loves so much. But he loves in a human way. A normal way.

This Miguel… He loves like he’s not human. Like he’s more. There’s too much. Almost unhealthy. Obsessive.

A few days ago he was near tears because Gabriella wouldn’t stop crying and he couldn’t calm her down on his own.

Sure, Miguel has never liked when Gabriella gets upset but he’d never gotten that sad about it.

Anytime Gabriella would get like that Miguel would always just accept defeat and let me try to calm her down, she was usually just hungry or wanted her mommy if Miguel couldn’t calm her down.

But the other night… he was so sad. He wouldn’t let me try to calm her down until he was about to be in the same state as her. I couldn’t calm her down that night either. It was a tough night for all of us.

Maybe that was the first night I started to realize, subconsciously. Gabriella wanted her Daddy, and he wasn’t there.

I… Don’t understand what’s happened to my Miguel. Where he is now. How this Miguel looks just like him, acts just like him, sounds just like him, is just like him.

Seems to know everything he knows…

Miguel was always very smart, so of course this Miguel is too. He would have to be smart to pull something like this off, right? Maybe a cloning experiment gone wrong or something?

Miguel was very hush-hush about his work. He said he had to be. I try to be understanding but I wish I hadn’t tried so hard now. Maybe if I hadn’t tried to be so understanding I’d understand what’s going on or what happened to my husband.

——

Late in the night, while (Y/n) and Gabriella are asleep I took a quick trip back to my home universe.

I don’t need to stress about the other me coming back anymore.

I checked up on the spider society, as well as my Nueva York, probably all too hastily.

I was distracted, my mind continuously drifting back to the quick, nervous looks (y/n) had been giving me.

I needed to find out what gave me away. I looked through everything. Analyzing every last detail.

Nothing.

Then suddenly something.

Like she just suddenly knew.

That’s not fair.

I did everything right.

I love her so much.

I love Gabriella so much.

I love them more.

“¿por qué soy destinado para sufrir?”

It’s ok.

I’ll go back to them. I’ll go home. To my perfect family.

And I’ll pretend.

I can pretend. I will. I’ll pretend I don’t see her looking nervously at me. I’ll keep loving her and Gabriella like my life depends on it. Because It does.

It does.

Part 3

[togrowoldinv]

The Beach House Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader, Yelena Belova x Female Reader

You deal with the aftermath of finding out both sisters have a crush on you and of kissing them both

Note: Woohoo part 2! Find part 1 here. I enjoyed writing this one. Hope you enjoy reading it and finding out who reader ends up with!

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 1, Natasha Romanoff Masterlist 2, Main Masterlist

The next morning the sun shines through your window. You groan and roll over to try and fall asleep. Last night felt like a dream and a nightmare at the same time.

You finally kissed Natasha, the girl you have been dreaming about since you were young. But you also kissed Yelena, your best friend who you think could be more.

When you finally get out of bed, you go downstairs to see Nat and Yelena sitting at the bar with Melina across from them. You try to go back up the stairs, but Melina sees you.

“Come on in,” Melina calls after you. “I made pancakes.”

“Thank you, Melina,” you say, entering the kitchen with nerves.

Both girls look at you and you give them a nervous smile. Natasha shares it, but Yelena just shakes her head. Breakfast drags by and you retreat to your room right after.

No one bothers you for a couple hours, but then you hear a knock on your door.

“Who is it?” you ask.

“Natasha,” comes the voice.

You stand up from your bed and straighten your clothing.

“Come in.”

The girl enters your room, and she smiles at you. She is wearing a red bikini that you have a hard time averting your eyes from.

“Hey, do you want to go surfing?” She asks.

“Oh, who’s all going?”

“Just me and you. Yelena is not feeling well, so she’s just resting in her room,” Natasha explains.

“Sure. I’ll get changed,” you say. You might as well face the music.

“See you in a minute,” Nat says. She drops a kiss to your cheek before she leaves your room.

You get changed and meet Natasha out by the beach. She carries both of your boards, refusing to let you help. Things go pretty normally until you’re both taking a break and sitting on your boards in the water.

“So, about last night,” Natasha begins. “You left abruptly. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. “It was just a lot. And unexpected.”

“I’d say it’s been a long time coming,” Nat comments. “But I understand if you don’t want to do it again.”

“I do, trust me. It’s just-”

“Just what, detka?” Natasha asks.

She leans closer to you and brushes her knuckles softly over your cheek.

“Never mind,” you whisper.

Natasha closes the distance between the two of you and kisses you. Her hands tangle in your wet hair as she kisses you. Her tongue brushes against your lips and you gasp. She takes advantage and deepens the kiss.

You kiss for a while before Nat pulls away. She keeps her hands on you as she suggests going back to the house for lunch. As you approach the house, you feel your nerves again.

Inside, Natasha makes sandwiches. She makes an extra one and asks you to take it to Yelena. You knock on her door, and you hear her mumble to come in.

“Hey, I brought you a sandwich,” you say. “Well, technically Nat made it, but here you go.”

She doesn’t turn around in the bed. You sit next to her and tap her shoulder. You used to wake each other up like this when you were kids, so you didn’t expect her to react badly to it.

“Go away, y/n,” Yelena says.

“Yelena,” you try. “What’s wrong?”

“Just go away.”

You relent and leave the room. When you get back downstairs, Nat is still in the kitchen.

“Did she eat it?” She asks you.

“She wouldn’t even look at me,” you reply.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart. Come here,” Natasha says, opening her arms for you. You hug her and she rubs your back softly. “It’s okay.”

You sit at the bar and eat your lunch while Nat takes a try at talking to her sister.

“Hey Yel,” Natasha says as she enters her room. She walks around Yelena’s bed to see her face covered with tears. “What’s wrong, malyshka?”

“Nothing,” the girl mumbles.

“Hey, come on. It’s me. Tell me what’s wrong,” Nat tries. “Or else I’ll start singing Chiquitita from Mamma Mia.”

That gets a slight smile from Yelena and Nat lays down next to her. She pulls her sister into her chest and lets her cry.

“I kissed y/n,” Yelena admits after crying for a few minutes.

“Oh. And how did that go?” Nat asks, fighting her own feelings about it.

The blonde removes herself from her sister’s arms and sits up in the bed. Nat sits up next to her.

“Cut the shit. I know she kissed you,” Yelena says.

“You saw us this morning?”

“No. I saw you last night. You kissed again?”

Nat avoids eye contact with Yelena. She knows the answer.  

“I don’t think y/n knows we know about each other’s kissing,” Natasha says. “We should tell her.”

“Maybe,” Yelena says. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah. Do you like her?”

“Yep,” Yelena answers. “Are you going to kiss her again?”

“I hope so. Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

The two girls talk for a while longer, but they come to no conclusions. Truly, you would have to be the one to work through your feelings.

That is if their own impatience doesn’t get in the way.

Later that day, Yelena is watching tv in the living room and you approach her.

“Mind if I join?”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t protest when you sit on the couch next to her. Usually, you would sit practically on top of one another and binge your favorite shows together.

It’s quiet for a while before Yelena pauses the tv and turns to you.

“Y/n,” she begins. “I know you said yesterday that we should just be friends.”

“Yel-”

“Let me say this,” she interrupts you. “Tell me you feel something here too. I don’t want to throw the towel in on this. I think we should try.”

“Yelena, I have to tell you something,” you say.

“I know you kissed Natasha,” she says. “I deserve the chance to be with you too, so I won’t let up. Not unless you ask me to.”

Your head is spinning. You thought you made up your mind at least slightly this morning, but here and now with Yelena fighting for you so passionately you’re confused again.

“I’d like to kiss you again,” Yelena says. “To make it even.”

“O-okay,” you agree.

She pulls you by the front of your shirt into her lap and she kisses you. It’s much more passionate than last night’s. Her hands move your waist against hers and the feeling is overwhelmingly good.

She moves from kissing your lips to kissing your neck. Definitely leaving marks on her path.

“Yelena,” you breathe out. She doesn’t stop. Her perfect lips land back on yours.

It’s not until the front door opens that she releases you from her grasp. The last thing any of you want is for the parents to know what’s going on.

You fix your clothes and hair just in time for Alexei to enter the room.

“Hey girls! I have brought your old favorite movie,” he says happily. He supplies a dvd from his bag.

“Papa, I think we’re a little too old for Monsters Inc.,” Yelena says.

“Nonsense! You, y/n, and Natasha must have a movie night,” Alexei says. “Natasha!” He calls for her up the stairs.

The redhead makes herself seen at the step just low enough for her father to talk to her.

“You must come down for a movie party,” he says to her. “I got the monsters one.”

“I was going to go out actually so-”

“Nope. You are going to sit here with your sister and your friend. Come on, rebenok. Let’s go,” Alexei doesn’t leave her room for argument.

He drops the dvd on the coffee table and disappears to find his wife. Natasha sits next to you. You’re in the middle of the girls in more ways than one.

You put the movie in, but the three of you can’t focus on it. Yelena wants to drag you to her room to be alone with you after that kiss. And Natasha wants to be alone with you so she can talk to you.

The first hour drags by and you excuse yourself to the kitchen to get a drink. Natasha follows you in there, so when you shut the fridge you are met with the older girl.

“Hey, can we talk?” She asks.

“We should get back to the movie, Nat.”

“Okay,” she says. “But hey, I really like you. And I want to do this. I want to be with you.”

“Natasha, it’s not that simple. I wish it was, but it’s just not.”

Nat nods and leans against the counter. She knows it’s not simple. She’s known that for years.

You sigh and stand next to her. Your hand brushes over hers and she smiles.

“Let’s go watch the rest of the movie,” you suggest. She agrees.

You kiss her cheek quickly and she blushes. Taking a mental picture, you grin at the girl. You’ve never seen her like this before.

When you return to the living room, Yelena sits with her arms crossed. She huffs at the way you and Nat seem perfectly content.

“You alright?” You ask her.

“Fine,” comes the quick, guarded response.

You turn your attention back to the movie and try to pretend like everything’s fine. Your efforts fail before the next ten minutes are over.

Natasha notices you seem cold from being near the air conditioning, so she slips off her extra layer and drapes the light jacket over your shoulders.

You offer her a soft smile that she returns.

Out of what you can only consider is jealousy, Yelena’s hand makes it’s way to your thigh and it’s just a little bit too friendly for an old times movie night gesture.

“Yel, what are you doing?” You whisper to her.

“You’re cold and my hands are warm,” she says simply. You almost smile, but then her next words come. “I can’t let her be the only one to comfort you.”

“Seriously? This is about some competition between you and Nat?” You ask her, but you say it loud enough for both girls to hear.

You stand up from the couch and face both of them. They look up at you like guilty children waiting for their punishment.

“Y/n, we-” Nat tries but you cut her off.

“No. You’re not possibly fighting over me. Me? It doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does actually,” Yelena says. “We both like you. And if I recall correctly, you’re the one who’s kissed us both repeatedly.”

“Yeah. We know about you kissing us both,” Nat says. “But I don’t care. I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you more,” Yelena asserts herself.

“You know what this is just too much. I can’t do this,” you say. You start to leave the room and both girls follow after you.

“Y/n, please you can’t honestly blame this on us. You like us too,” Natasha says.

“I did. Now I’m just, confused. And I’m hurt. And I feel like you’re only trying to get me to make the other person jealous. So, excuse me I’m going to get some air,” you say.

Both girls relent and you go outside. The salt air offers little comfort. Especially when you can hear the girls inside yelling at each other.

You walk to the driveway and get out your phone. Surely, there’s someone to help you feel better right now.

You click on a contact and make the call. Ten minutes later the girl is in your driveway with a soft smile to offer.

She drives you to the ice cream shop. You try not to remember all the time you spent here with Nat and Yelena. She catches you lost in a memory.

“Hey, not that I’m not happy to be here with you, but why did you call me?”

“Yeah it surprised me too. My choice. But I thought you were the best choice,” you say. “I’m sorry for dragging you out, Kate.”

The girl shakes her head. You weren’t bothering her in the slightest. She was, if anything, curious as to why you invited her out.

“Did something happen with Yelena? Or Nat?” She asks.

“Both. Neither. I don’t know.”

“You’ve known them a long time, yeah?”

“Pretty much my whole life. Yelena is my best friend. And Nat, well she’s Nat,” you say. “I never thought things could get so complicated with us.”

“I got the vibe that they both liked you, but I have I admit I was hoping it wasn’t true. For purely selfish reasons,” Kate admits.

You look down at your ice cream and sigh. So many feelings got tangled up in this.

“I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I think Yelena really likes you.”

“She just likes you more,” she retorts. You shake your head. “No?”

“No. I think Yelena is just trying to make this happen between us so she has someone. She’s not shown any interest in me before,” you explain.

“But this summer apparently you have both of their attentions.”

“Apparently. I used to dream of the day Natasha Romanoff would like me and outwardly declare it. But now I’m just-”

“Lost,” Kate supplies.

“Yep,” you say. “Listen, when this all blows over I do hope that you and Yelena can be together.”

“You’re saying you choose Nat?”

“I’m saying I think Yelena is just being competitive and doesn’t want Nat to have me. We kissed on the Ferris wheel that night, but we decided to just be friends,” you explain.

“That night she did text me to hang out. I didn’t know you had kissed though,” Kate says.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you say.

“Not your fault,” the girl replies. “I still think you might’ve agreed to the just friends thing and she didn’t.”

“Maybe. It’s all so messed up,” you say.

“That’s what chocolate syrup is for,” Kate says. She grins and pours more syrup onto your ice cream.

You spend a couple more hours out with the girl and find it surprisingly fun to have made a new friend.

When you arrive back at the house, Yelena is sitting by the pool. You walk by her and she looks at you.

“You alright?” She asks.

“I don’t know, Yel.”

You sit next to her and join her with your feet in the pool. She leans her head on your shoulder. You can’t help but kiss her hair softly. Yelena smiles and nestles further into you. You miss being this close to her just as it used to be.

“I’m sorry,” Yelena says. “Really.”

You can count on one hand how many times the girl has truly ever said that to you first. She always means it when she says it, but it’s just rare she offers up the first apology.

“I’m sorry too.” It’s quiet for a moment. The only sound is your feet splashing in the water. “Yelena, can you be honest with me?”

“I can try,” she says, a little chuckle comes out of her lips. You nudge her with your shoulder and she lifts her head off of you. “Of course I’ll be honest, y/n.”

You take a deep breath and look her face over. Her green eyes with a hint of brown are the perfect hue. And her nose that scrunches when she laughs is adorable. And her lips, god her lips are your new favorite part of her. The way they are plump and soft. Perfect for your pleasure.

She smiles at you and you remember you were going to say something that will make her do the opposite.

“Yelena, we’ve been friends forever. Like our whole lives, right?” You begin. The girl nods. “And you know I love you, I do. This summer has been insane. I never knew you might be attracted to me.”

“Well, that’s on you. You’re beautiful,” Yelena says. “You always have been.”

“So, why this summer?”

“Why did I kiss you?” She asks for clarification. When you nod, she continues. “I guess I just felt like it. I just wanted to. But that’s not a good reason, is it?”

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s just- I feel like you’ve always known I had a crush on Natasha. And I overheard you two talking about liking me,” you explain. “It just feels like maybe you did it because Natasha wanted to.”

Yelena squints her eyes in a thinking motion. There was always a competitive element to her and Natasha’s sisterhood.

“If that’s not the reason, then that’s okay,” you add.

“I don’t know,” Yelena admits. “Some part of me just really wanted to, but I understand your concerns. Natasha and I do tend to fight over things we both want. It’s usually the last piece of watermelon and not the girl we love’s heart though.”

Heat rises up your neck at the word love.

“Well, how about this, why don’t you kiss me again? Right now. Out here with no other feelings or people but us. And if you still feel like you want this, then maybe we can go on a date?”

“But you are in love with Natasha,” she debates.

“Just kiss me, Yelena.”

The blonde tenderly grips her hands over your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss. You kiss her back, letting yourself relax into her hold. Yelena kisses you slowly, like she’s trying to memorize the feeling. Like it’ll be the last time.

When she pulls away, she keeps your face in her hands and kisses your forehead.

“Go get her,” she says, fighting back tears.

“Yelena,” you whisper, touching her own cheek. You brush your hand softly over her flushed cheek. She whimpers softly.

“I love you and I could probably kiss you for forever. I know you love me too. But she’s in love with you and you’re in love with her. There’s a difference,” Yelena says.

“You’re my person,” you tell her. “Always.”

“You’re my person too. Forever.”

You leave her with a quick kiss to her cheek. Going inside, you walk to Natasha’s room. You knock on the door.

“It’s open,” she says. “Oh hey, y/n, are you okay?”

She stands up from her bed and looks you over with concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just told Yelena that we’re just going to be friends,” you say.

Natasha reaches for you, but stops herself.

“Can I hug you?” She asks shyly. You nod and she pulls you into her warm arms. It feels like coming home.

She keeps you in her arms for as long as you need.

“Natasha, did you mean it when you said you really want to be with me?”

“I’ve never meant anything more. Ever.”

“Ask me out then,” you say. A smirk appears on her face.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Natasha asks.

“Yes,” you answer quickly. You share a laugh with her. “But let’s keep thing’s respectful in front of Yelena, okay? I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know. She knows too. I guess I can try to resist kissing you in front of her,” Natasha says. She pulls you close again and presses kisses to your cheeks. You giggle and she keeps going. “But it’s hard when you’re so damn cute.”

The rest of the summer goes by with much less drama. You and Natasha spend so much time together and by the end of the season you’re sure that you’re each other’s forever.

Yelena bounces back and finds her way into Kate’s heart, just as you expected she would. And you two remain best friends.

Things changed this summer, but in many ways they stayed exactly the same.

[lonesome-witching]

It's Just a Kiss

Sorry for the long wait but here is another prompt for you. This one was sent in anonymously, so thank you. I hope this sort of fit with what you had in mind when you said Nancy giving Robin her first kiss. At least I tried my best.

You can read previous prompt right here on ao3. Or you can send in a prompt of your own.

“What was your first kiss like?” 

The question had tumbled out before Nancy could think better of it. She had just gotten caught up in the conversation, the one where Robin kept making fun of Nancy for dating Steve, and she needed to retaliate. 

But it had been a stupid question. The second the words escaped her lips Nancy knew it was a stupid question. Because if Robin had had her first kiss then it wouldn’t have been a good one. It would have been with Tommy B or Mark Lewinsky during a game of spin the bottle. Or it would have been with Milton Bledsoe out of peer pressure from her friends from band. Or it would have been with Dash Montague when he came on to her, Nancy’s blood had boiled when Robin told her about that. But either way, Robin wouldn’t have liked it. Because Robin didn’t like boys. 

She had told Nancy a few weeks ago. It hadn’t really changed anything between them. They still hung out every Friday night after Robin’s shift, they still sat next to each other at the movie nights the kids forced them into, Nancy still went over to Family Video to hang out with her and Steve. Except it had changed everything. 

Because suddenly, Nancy looked at things differently. She started noticing the graffiti around the town, the vile words that painted Hawkins a special shade of homophobic. She started noticing the whispered remarks between girls and the shouted jokes between boys. And she hated all of it. She hated it even more when she noticed Robin noticing the comments, the way she would fold into herself as if she was trying to hide. 

Which is exactly why she hated herself for asking that stupid question. 

“I– uhm. I haven’t really had my first kiss yet.” Robin looked at her own lap, twisting her fingers around each other. 

It might have been the best answer Nancy could have gotten. But it still rubbed her the wrong way. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“No, it’s alright. It’s a normal question. I mean, it���s not that I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone. It’s just that no one really wanted to kiss me.” 

“No one?” Nancy probably shouldn’t have sounded as surprised as she did. 

“I mean, the people who did want to kiss me weren’t exactly my type.” 

“Does it bother you? That you haven’t had a first kiss yet?” It bothered Nancy. Maybe she should have just changed the subject. 

“A little. It’s not that big of a deal, I guess I hoped to get some experience in college but now that I’m not going–”

“Yet,” Nancy interrupted quickly. 

“Now that I’m not going yet, it does bother me a bit more. But it’s okay. It’s not like there is anything I can do about it.” 

“Do you want to kiss me?” It slipped out, just like the earlier question had. Somehow Nancy had lost control of her own mouth. 

Robin’s eyes widened in shock. “No– I mean, you are pretty– It’s– I– I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. You’re my friend, I don’t want to ruin that.” 

“It would just be a kiss. It doesn’t have to ruin anything and at least then you won’t have to wait until you leave for college, whenever that will be.” 

“I– Uhm– I don’t know– What do you want me to say?” Robin finally looked up, as if she was hoping to see the perfect answer painted on Nancy’s face. Maybe it was, Nancy wasn’t sure. 

“Just the truth, do you want to have your first kiss?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Would you be okay with me being your first kiss?” 

“I don’t want to make–” 

Nancy pushed her finger against Robin’s lips. “That’s not what I asked.” 

“Yes.” Robin’s lips pressed against Nancy’s finger as she spoke. 

“Can I kiss you, Robin?” 

Robin made a soft noise as her eyes dropped to Nancy’s lips. “I might be a shit kisser. I have never done it before.” 

“That’s the whole point, that you’ve never done it before. And really, kissing isn’t all that hard, just follow my lead.” Nancy leaned in slowly, giving Robin the time to refuse, to ask for her to stop, to push her away. But Robin didn’t. She just sat frozen on Nancy’s bed, her eyes still glued to Nancy’s lips. “Close your eyes,” Nance whispered softly. 

She obeyed her own words as she pressed her lips against Robin’s. It felt… nice. Robin’s lips were soft and vaguely tasted of chocolate and sugar. Nancy started moving her lips. Slowly at first, allowing Robin to get used to it. But Robin’s lips mimicked the movements perfectly and Nancy couldn’t help but feel a soft tingling feeling in her lips. Her right hand grabbed at Robin’s shoulder, needing to hold onto something. 

It probably wasn’t supposed to feel like this, like she was drowning. Her mind was filled with a new type of fog and her body buzzed with some foreign feeling. 

She needed to pull away. 

But then Robin accidentally bit into Nancy’s bottom lip and Nancy softly whined. The hand on Robin’s shoulder slipped up into Robin’s hair, pulling her closer. She needed more. She needed to lick into Robin’s mouth, needed to push her hands under Robin’s shirt, needed to hear Robin moan her name. 

Nancy pulled away quickly, nearly tumbling off the bed. It was supposed to just be a kiss. It wasn’t supposed to leave her breathless and wanting. 

Robin’s eyes were still closed, a soft smile on her lips. She dropped down on Nancy’s pillow without opening her eyes. 

“So… What was your first kiss like?” Nancy asked, her eyes stuck on Robin’s kiss swollen lips. She really wanted to lean back in. 

Robin opened her eyes. “It was great. You are a wonderful kisser, Nance. I hope I wasn’t too bad.” 

“No, you were– You’re a natural, Robin.” Nancy dropped down next to Robin, watching as Robin’s eyes sparkled, hoping that she’d get to do it again.

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

The Perks Of Being A Fiend

Alpha!Jax Teller x Omega!POC!Reader "LuLu"

Summary:

Alpha!Jax Teller x Omega!POC!Reader "LuLu" There's no in-between, we only do extremes. He can get on my LAST nerve, but honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings:

Smut, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jax Teller, Accidental Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Sex, Rough Sex, Marriage, Pregnancy

Notes:

Hello Heathens! This is my first Jax fic although I'm a massive SOA fan. So be kind. (This was my first Jax fic 😊) Happy Reading!

Banner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

5 Missed Calls from JT 🐺

🌖Little Moon🌔 : I'm working Jackson. Why on earth are you blowing up my phone? JT 🐺 : I'm Sorry  LM: Okay JT: Just okay? That's it? LM: What do you want a medal or something for doing the bare minimum when you did wrong?  JT: C'mon dont be like that darlin'.  LM: Don't. I know you're bored at the club house. So what is it you really want? What are you trying to sweet talk me into? JT: Just wanted to see my pretty Omega and since I'm stuck here I thought a picture or two might tide me over.  LM: Seriously?  JT: You know I’m serious. LM: Find some Beta crow eater to feed your need to see flesh. You’ve always been good at that. JT: That won’t satisfy the craving. I’m fiending for you. Always you. LM: I don't have time for this. JT: Just one picture. Take a bathroom break.  JT: Where did you go? JT: I just want to see my Omega. Please, darlin’. I’ll do that thing with my tongue later. LM:  

Now leave me be. And you would have done that thing with your tongue anyway. I set up the couch for you tonight if you decide to come home. 

JT: Damn. It’s like that? LM: It’s like that. Balls in your court Teller. I’m not the one needing to earn forgiveness.

“I know that face.” Opie said with a smirk. “Someone is in the doghouse again. What’d you do this time?”

“Terra stopped by the house this morning to thank me for helping her with her flat tire last night.” He mumbles out as he lights up a cigarette.

“And?” Opie asks.

“And I may not have told Lulu about it when I got home late because of it.” He exhales a breath of smoke.

“Ooh.” Op winces. “That was a really dumb move man.” He shakes his head. “She’s the chillest woman you’ve ever been with it. But that only works when you don’t blindside her. Tara knew what she was doing showing up this morning like that. What’d Lu do?”

“She’s the one that opened the door and let her in when she asked for me with damn coffee and donuts in her hand.” He stomps out his cigarette. “She stayed calm and went about her normal morning routine while Tara thanked me and I escorted her out.”

“She was calm?”

“Yup.” 

“Fuck man. What happened when the door closed?”

“She sat at the table with her coffee and grabbed a donut. She then told me ‘Such a gentleman and a baddass. Lucky me to have snagged such an Alpha. If only he knew to keep me up to date on happenings with his crazy exes.’ Gave me a kiss and then rushed off to get ready for the day.”

“Why the fuck are you here then?” Opie Inquires.

“She’s working. Told me the couch is ready for me tonight if I come home.”

“Damn I do not wish I were you right now. You have some groveling to do Prez.”

“Don’t I know it. Thankfully I know just how to diffuse her.”

You're getting ready to leave work and head home when your besties number shows up on your phone. You pick up and before you can even say hello she's going a mile a minute. 

"You're still coming tonight. No excuses. Dress hot as shit too. Get Jax back for that Tara bullshit. I know for a fact that Ari is in town."

“Hello to you too Diamond.” You finally get out as you climb into your Chevelle. “I wasn’t going to bail on you tonight. I just wanted something low key but if you have a plan in mind I’m all for it. You know petty is my love language.”

“I’m thinking, O’ Sheas.” 

“We always go to O’ Sheas.”

“Duh. But tonight Ari will be there. I’m sure he’ll be looking for an Omega to get lost in.” She remarks. “He is the idiot that let you get away. If he spots you I’m sure he’ll be begging for another piece.”

“I know you didn't forget that Jax is in fact my Alpha.”

“Of course I didn’t.” She replies. “I’m just saying give the Prez a taste of his own medicine. You don’t have to sleep with him. Just be your charming self is all.”

“I’m only agreeing to go because a drink is just what I need to forget this day.” You say as you pull into your driveway. “I’m not entertaining this Ari nonsense. If he’s there, then he’s there. I’m just looking to get inebriated enough to just knock straight out when I get home. Lord knows I sleep like shit when I’m alone.”

“Jax not coming home tonight?”

“More like I relegated him to the couch.”

“Understandable. I’ll let you get ready. Pick you up in like an hour or so.”

“Sounds good.”

You’re leaning over your built-in vanity, applying highlighter to your cheeks, clad in an olive green lingerie set, your favorite thigh high knit stockings keeping you warm, singing along to Mary J Blige. “My whole world’s, Up. Side. Dooooown.” Your hips sway to the beat as you really get into the song. You glance up into the mirror and spot Jax leaning against the door frame, just admiring the view.

“Singing ‘bout me, little moon?” He husks out.

“I plead the fifth.” You deadpan, turning your eyes back to your reflection.

He steps up behind you, ghosting his fingers along your exposed skin. “Got plans tonight, Omega?” He whispers into your ear.

You swallow but attempt to hold your ground. “Just hitting O’ Sheas with Diamond. Nothing special.” You shrug.

“Hmm.” He takes a step back. “I better get to it then.”

“Get to what?” You turn on your heel towards him as he cages you in.

"These panties have got to go.” He tugs on the waistband against your hip. “Hold on to the counter and lift your ass up for me." You instinctively follow his command. 

Not wasting a second Jax practically rips the fabric from your skin. “Much better.” 

He sinks down to his knees so that his handsome face and your glistening folds are level with each other. Eyes hooded, pupils dilated, he scents your arousal in the air, licking his lips. “Fuck. Look at you Omega. Perfect little pussy leaking all this slick for me.” He licks a stripe up your folds to your swollen clit, moaning in delight at the sweetness flowing onto his tongue. “God, I missed the taste of you on my tongue.”

"It hasn't even been a day since your last meal." You whimper out. 

"Too long. Plus I have an apology to make." He growls out. 

You find yourself threading your fingers through his golden locks for balance as he begins to really go to town. Feasting on you as if he’ll perish if he does not consume every ounce of you. He sinks two fingers into your center. You can’t help but grind against his face, fucking yourself with his fingers. He curls them just so, hitting that sweet spongy spot that has you seeing stars. Eliciting a long guttural moan as your sweet nectar spills, making quite the mess all over the lower half of his face.

You release his hair as he lifts his face from between your thighs, lips shining and beard covered in your juices, looking like the cat that got the cream. You wanted to allow your anger to persist, but the endorphin high with an oxytocin chaser that you just experienced is wavering your resolve. 

You place your palms on his cheeks, pulling him up to grace him with a deep kiss, enjoying the taste of yourself on his tongue. “Get up Alpha.” You speak against his lips. 

Once he is standing between your open thighs you undo his belt and zipper. You reach in, wrapping your hand around his base, giving him a slow pump, granting you a low groan, before pulling out his beautifully thick cock.  

"Turn around ‘mega. Hands on the sink. Eyes on me in the mirror. I want you to watch me ruin you baby." You turn around, taking your time placing your hands on the counter. He smacks your ass once, in warning. 

You push your hips back as you lean forward. This is when he chooses to tease you, rubbing his dick up and down your soaked folds. Tapping his head against your clit several times before sinking in slowly until his tip kisses your cervix, giving you a moment to adjust to his size stretching you out. 

Feeling full of your Alpha you subconsciously begin to undulate your hips, looking for friction, as you lock eyes with him in the mirror. "Alpha, please. Fuck me. I don't think I can stand this much longer. Feels too good when you're so deep inside me." 

He growls at your plea, fisting your hair and pulling. Forcing you to arch you back further to keep your eyes locked in the mirror. 

He pulls back, slamming in as he begins a punishing pace, fucking you hard and deep. His balls slap against your swollen clit with every thrust making you see spots from the pure ecstasy of it all. Your staring into the mirror, watching his face as he grunts, swears and groans while he fucks all the tension and anger from you from behind. 

You watch as he throws his head back, letting out a growl you can feel vibrate against your skin. "Fuck Omega, your pussy is just so damn tight. Feel so good wrapped around my dick. Ready to cum for me again? I need to feel ya squeezin’ me, trying to pop my knot and milk me dry."

"Yes.” You whimper out. “Please, Alpha. I’m close. So, so close." You’re uncaring of how needy you sound at the moment. The man really had a knack for turning you into a hormonal mess whenever he felt the need.

Your plea’s add fuel to his need to consume you, driving him to fuck you even harder. You know you'll most likely be sporting bruises on your hips from the counter, but you’ll deal with that fun little reminder later. Hand still wrapped up in your hair, his grip tightens, the pleasured pain sending you head first over the edge into the bliss of another orgasm. 

"Don't close your eyes, ‘mega. Look at yourself.” He grits out. “See how gorgeous you look when you come undone for me." You let out a primal wailing moan as your pussy clamps down on his cock and your legs begin to shake. He smacks your ass with his free hand before taking hold of your hip, continuing to fuck you as you ride the waves of your orgasm.

When your walls stop their rhythmic suffocation of his cock, he slows down, taking his time to fuck you nice and deep. Hitting all your sweet spots. Cresting into the zone of overstimulation you begin to squirm against him again. 

He watches, as his cock sinks in and out of your swollen and dripping folds. Hypnotized by how well you take his dick and still remain so goddamn tight. His hips instinctively pick up the pace, once again. "I'm close, Omega. Gonna fill ya up so good, you’ll still be leaking for days" He grunts out, accompanied by harsh thrusts.

"FUCK!” You shout. “Yes. Please, yes. Want all of you Alpha." Is all you can manage to mumble out as you arch your back deeper, preparing to take his seed deep into your womb.

He continues on, setting a pace that just makes your brain go fuzzy and every nerve-ending sing in pleasure.

“Fuuuck.” He grunts out. “My cock drunk little omega. Pussy’s gripping me so damn tight baby. She doesn't want to let me go.”

You just nod and whisper out. “Please. Full.” Lost in a sea of sensation, your mind is not able to formulate more than two words in your current state, other than moans, whimpers and wails of pleasure. You’re flying a serotonin high you are not ready to come down from yet.

That was all the validation he needed to hear to stop holding back and pop his knot, releasing his seed deep into your waiting womb. Painting the walls white with rope after rope of his spend. 

Locked tight on his knot, time seemed to stand still, it felt like he was pouring everything he had into you, his cock gave it’s final twitch and he collapsed onto your back. Caging you in as he rains kisses along your shoulders.

That’s when you hear a round of applause come from the doorway. “GOTDAMN Girl! Now I get why he gets away with so much."

You burst into laughter at the situation. Unashamed over what they caught you doing in the comfort of your home. No one told her to let herself in with the key you gave her for emergencies.

“That was the hottest shit I have ever seen and we produce porn.” Juice blurts out.

“Hope you took some notes than, Juicy.” Jax snarks. “Now get the fuck out of my house so I can fully finish apologizing to my woman. Sorry Diamond but she’s staying in tonight.”

“Come on Juice.” Diamond turns to the still gawking biker. “Looks like your my date for tonight. I’m not wasting this outfit cus my girl is so easily dickmatized by her Alpha.”

She latches on to his Kutte and drags him back down the hall out of the house.

Jax knot has gone down enough at this point for him to tenderly slip out of you. A trail of his cum begins leaking down your thigh. He collects it on his fingers and pushes it back inside, making you moan and push back against him.

“I’m going to keep you full until I am fully forgiven for my stupidity.” He pulls his fingers out and places them before you face. You open your mouth and clean them of your combined essences. 

“I hope you carbo loaded at the Club then Alpha.” You tease. “You have a ways to go to remain out of the dog house.”

He lifts you up into his arms and walks into your bedroom. “I’ll be sure to do my worst.”

That night took a turn you could not have expected. You want to blame it on the hormone high but that would be a weak cop out when in reality you always would have said yes. 

While recovering from your escapades, enjoying all the lovely chemicals coursing through your veins, Jax asked you to be his old lady in every way. “You’re already my mate” He runs his fingers along the freshly renewed bite along your collarbone. “Let’s make this all the way official and head down to the courthouse and make it legal.”

“You’re serious.”

“100%”

“Okay. We’re going to need witnesses though.” You reply

“Easy. Op and Diamond.” He reaches for his phone and calls Op. You pick up yours to text D to meet you at the courthouse in the morning.

That’s how you found yourself in a sundress with a newly signed marriage license cuddled up with your now husband in the kitchen, waiting for Happy to show up to tattoo your ring finger. 

“Gemma is gonna flip when she finds out.” Opie states calmly as he takes a puff of his cigarette.

“Who cares what Gemma thinks.” You shrug. “She was always on team, not me, anyway. This was for us not her.”

“She’s just going to have to get over it whenever the news hits her.” Jax adds.

“She might have forgiven you Jackson. But your still on shit list. I’m not so easily swayed.” Diamond declares. “Though this move has given you some points. Making her glow like that will always get you points with me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jax responds.

Twelve weeks after your Alpha’s apology and your subsequent nuptials thereafter, the club was dealing with some backlash from a new MC trying to make a name for themselves in the streets. Wanting to keep his men and their families safe, Jax has called a lockdown.

The compound and clubhouse was filled with families, children trying to find a way to deal with the boredom, running around making nuisances of themselves. The volume of so many voices alone was overwhelming, not to mention the haze of cigarette smoke that permeates the air. You’d been feeling queasy for days and the stench of bad perfume wafting off the crow eaters as you tried to make lunch had bile slowly rising up your throat.

“You doin okay there Sweetheart?” Gemma asks, watching you waver slightly on your feet.

“I’ll be fine.” You reply. “Just not feeling my best today. It’ll pass. I think I might go lay down for a bit though if I’m not needed here.”

“We got it Sug.” Luann blurts out before Gemma could give you the third degree. “These crow eaters need to learn to be useful for something other than sucking dick anyway.” 

“Thanks.” You give her a tight smile. “If you need any more help, please don't hesitate to come get me.” You rush out of the kitchen before anyone can object and head down the hall to Jax’s room. You’ve unbuttoned your tight jeans and are in the process of sliding the denim down your legs when the door opens. 

“Everything okay ‘mega?” Are the first words out of Jax’s mouth. “Op saw you booking it pretty fast out the kitchen.” He closes the door behind him, walking up to you as you're stepping out of your pants. 

“I’m fine now.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Just needed to get away from the stench of Crow Eater.” 

He places his hands on your hips, pushing up your loose shirt, one of his old beat up SAM CROW’s, thumbs tracing your lower stomach. “They still given you a hard time with smells?” He asks.

“They are.” You nod your head. “It’s mainly the perfume that sets me off. Thankfully it’s supposed to ease up soon. I don’t think I could handle a full nine months of feeling like this.”

He lowers himself to his knees, where his head is in line with your non-existent bump. “Listen here pup. You’re already causing your mama problems and I can’t have that. I’mma need ya to calm your shit down or we’re both gonna be in for it when you get out.” You chuckle at his antics as he reprimands his progeny growing in your womb.

He has been nothing short of amazing since you found out last week that you were expecting your first pup. His apology sure left its mark. It’s a bit sooner than you both were expecting but it’s exciting nonetheless.

“Such a big strong Alpha, on his knees, pleading with his unborn child. Whatever shall I do with you.” You run your fingers through his hair as the door is slammed open. You both turn to find Gemma standing in the doorway, Opie behind her with a look of defeat on his face.

“Sorry guys. I caught her snooping near the door and before I could get a chance to shoo her away she gasped and threw open the door.” He shakes his head.

“You're pregnant?!” She hollers at you. “I knew something was up. That why you marked her?”

“Mom.” Jax stands up. “I’m gonna need ya to calm the fuck down. That’s not only my Omega, but my wife and the mother of your unborn grandchild, your screeching at. She’s already feeling like crap. I’m not about to have you stressing her out too. Either accept this and be happy or get out our faces.” He huffs.

Stunned not only that her son is speaking to her like this but that somehow he got married and didn't even inform her. “You got married? Was that before or after you knocked her up?”

“Watch it.” He growls. “Not that it is really any of your business but we just recently found out she was pregnant. Must have happened around our wedding day. Not that it matters. She was always going to be mine. Knew it from the moment her scent hit my nose.”

“Why didn't you tell me you were getting married?” She asks.

“Because I knew how you’d act and I didn't want you pulling any of your tricks.” Jax deadpans.

“I know what you think about me Gemma.” You speak up. “And you're wrong. I have only ever wanted what was best for your son. My Alpha. Now that we’ve started our own family, you can choose to let your misconceptions of me go and be a part of this little pups life when they arrive. Or you can double down and miss out on all the wonders a new life brings to a family. The decision is yours.” 

“Damn.” You hear Opie mutter out.

“If you think for one second I’m risking not being in my first grandbabies life, you're sorely mistaken honey.” Gemma states. “I’ll behave. I’d say welcome to the family but you’ve already been here awhile apparently.”

“See that wasn't that hard.” Jax teases before turning to you. “Can we tell everybody now. I think they all could use some good news.”

You sigh. “Fine. But can I get a nap first.” You negotiate. “I know they’ll want to celebrate and chit chat. If I don’t get some rest I may just snap at the first person to try and touch my belly.”

They all laugh. “Alright, little moon. We can take a nap.” He kisses your forehead, then turns to his mother. “Don’t say a word until we come out later. I mean it mom.”

“I’m not gonna blab.” She relents. “Wouldn’t want to deal with your wrath having upset your Omega. Been there with your father when I was pregnant with John. Wouldn’t wish that on anybody.”

“C’mon Gemma.” Opie pulls her out the room, slowly closing the door. “I’ll keep an eye out Prez.” 

“Thanks Op.” He pulls you close, giving you a loving kiss. “I love you Omega.”

“Love ya too Alpha.” You kiss him back, pulling him towards the bed where you had previously made a haphazard nest, so you could cuddle up and get some much needed rest with your perfect pain the ass Alpha.

[television-overload]

'sh-boom' (an X-Files fanfic)

Like usual, I caved and instead of leaving my "someone should write this" post be, I wrote it myself. I'll tag some people that expressed interest in this prompt below the fic! Shout out to @baronessblixen who already wrote the perfect Scully-accidentally-kisses-Mulder fic. You can read that here!

Now, for Mulder accidentally kissing Scully cause he dreams about her all the time.... takes place February 1998, mid-Season 5.

Read on Ao3

There’s a trick to fighting insomnia, Mulder had discovered. Not a cure, by any means, but an improvement, nonetheless. All you need is a super off-limits best friend you’ve fallen stupidly in love with, spend practically every waking hour of the day with her, and then spend the rest of your time thinking about her until your exhausted and delusional mind has mercy on you and blesses you with her presence in your unconscious state.

A foolproof plan, really. Scully had even noticed he seemed more well-rested and happier in the last few weeks, so something had to be working.

Although, there were—he had to admit—a few rather notable side effects.

Despite what others might tell you, Fox Mulder was not one to have trouble distinguishing between fiction and reality. Usually. But in his defense, his dreams were very, very vivid, and there had been a time or two that he’d referred to something Scully had said, only to realize at her blank stare that it was the figment of her in his imagination who’d said it.

“Must have been someone else I was talking to,” he’d awkwardly say, thankful that she kept her mouth shut about the fact that there was no one else he’d have such conversations with, and they both knew it.

He’d also been on the receiving end of more than a few raised eyebrows and patented “what is wrong with you?” looks, which were well-deserved for catching him staring even more than typical. Sure, he was sleeping better at night, but his brain was now trained to find restfulness when thinking about Scully, which was pretty much an all-day thing too. Sitting across from her in their isolated little office for extended periods of time made his eyes glaze over and eyelids droop halfway shut. Oh, the horror… he probably looked like a drunk idiot. He hoped he at least looked somewhat normal, not like a drooling dope with a dumb smile on his face who was clearly not having a productive day at work.

What would old doctor Pavlov have to say about this sorry scenario?

His consolation was that Scully already knew he was weird, and stuck around anyway, so he had no qualms against going home night after night and picking up where he’d left off in Scullyland the night before. Let’s see, he was just about to their son’s first little league baseball game, of which Mulder was the coach, of course. “Scully, don’t forget, we signed up to bring snacks for the team after the game.”

Behind closed eyes he saw her raise her arm to show him the already packed bag she was holding, an exasperated but loving look in her eye. “Always one step ahead of me,” he said fondly. With practiced ease, they danced around each other in the kitchen of a fairly unremarkable house, grabbing sunscreen, sunglasses, water bottles, keys… “Alright, sport, get in the car! Bus is leaving!” he called out, smiling as the sounds of little footfalls preceded the sight of his freckle-faced son, clad in shiny new baseball cleats.

“Got your glove?”

“Yep.”

“Your bat?”

“Yep.”

“Spitting tobacco?”

“Daaaad…”

“Mulder!”

“I’m just kidding, get in the car, will you? Coach Fox can’t be late, it’s unprofessional.”

“Wait I forgot my seeds!”

A minivan. Perfectly unremarkable. Admittedly, very comfortable, and spacious.

“Fox…” Scully mused with a shake of her head as she buckled her seatbelt.

“What? All the great baseball legends have weird nicknames. I just happen to have been born with mine.”

“The Great Bambino!” a little voice piped up from the back, glancing out the window as they ventured forth into the miles and miles of farmland.

“That’s my boy. ‘Oil Can’ Boyd. ‘Cool Papa’ James Bell. ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson. Did you know Lou Gehrig’s teammates called him ‘Biscuit Pants?’”

A giggle from the back seat.

“Alright you’ve made your point.” He loved it when she used that voice, the one that meant she was tired of his antics, but not really. Of course she loved his senseless rambling. She did it too sometimes, albeit with a few more hyper-specific medical terms thrown in there, leaving him unable to do anything other than smile and nod.

When they arrived, they piled out of the van, the messy brown hair of his son—already sweaty somehow, by the way—disappearing into the dugout with a gaggle of other overexcited little boys. “Good luck,” Scully spoke as she planted a kiss on Mulder’s cheek and made her way to the stands, setting up a cushion and portable fan that were sure to be the envy of all the other parents.

The field smelled like grass and dirt and the leather of brand-new baseball gloves just waiting to be broken in. It was a smell straight out of his childhood, of those summer nights on the Vineyard getting eaten up by bugs under the bright lights of the baseball fields. The crack of a ball against a wooden bat. Coming home covered in sweat and dirt and with a kid sister in tow who insisted on playing with the boys.

It was in this dream state where he found peace. Not in the past, but in some amorphous future. A future where he had a family again, a loving home. Where he wasn’t a coward and had a beautiful wife and partner who somehow made everything work. They fought monsters. They went grocery shopping. They filed paperwork with Skinner. He coached little league. They drove to work together. They picked up their son from school.

Baseballs went flying. Teams celebrated their first win. Little boys were tucked into bed, and he kissed his wife goodnight. That’s just how it was.

It was freedom. A freedom he didn’t think he’d felt since his life changed with a flash of light.

In the morning, he’d wake in a haze. With his brain on autopilot, he’d amble about his apartment, brushing his teeth, making coffee, tying on a tie… Caught somewhere in between these worlds of make-believe and reality. It was a benefit of his eidetic memory, he supposed, to be able to remember his dreams and stay in them even after coming to consciousness. Didn’t work out so great when he had constant nightmares, but hey, now that’s been solved too.

Somewhere along his drive to work was usually when reality really set in. He tried to not let it bring him down too much—it was his own fault, after all, that his life bore little resemblance to that which revealed itself in dreams. But he couldn’t help the slight pangs of disappointment he felt when he thought of the lonely couch he slept on every night and the sad state of his fridge.

“Good morning, Mulder,” Scully called out her usual greeting as she breezed into the office.

Mulder’s head lifted off the desk where it had been laying. “Mm—morning.”

Scully chuckled, setting down her bag in her chair and working to remove her heavy coat which she hung on the coat rack. His dream may have taken place in the heat of summer, but it was unmistakably the dead of winter in Washington, D.C.

“Not get enough sleep?” she asked, her amused tone not entirely disguising the genuine concern she felt for him underneath.

“I slept fine,” Mulder answered, “just… still waking up.”

Scully shook her head and let out another low chuckle, taking her seat across from him. She pulled out a file from her bag and began scanning through it, the lamp next to her providing most of the light, as the cloud-covered sky through the skylight threatened to dump a heap of snow on the city.

The day went on like that. Mulder managed to actually get some work done, finalizing some paperwork he’d been putting off (to Scully’s exaggerated shock and disbelief). She, on the other hand, was working on going over some medical reports a field office had sent over for her expert opinion, something that flattered her and made Mulder bloom with pride.

He didn’t even mind that much that they didn’t have a case to work on at the moment. That was another thing that had changed since he’d started indulging in these dreams: he could sit still for five minutes without vibrating out of his skin.

Of course, he’d never stop yearning for the truth, wondering what was out there waiting for him to discover it. But lately, he also found he enjoyed these quiet days where barely a word was spoken between them. It was comfortable. Everything unspoken didn’t need to be said aloud because it was a given—they both knew without saying everything that could possibly be said.

Lunch?

Yes.

Can you hand me a pen?

Sure.

The winter sun set early, and night was well on its way by the time Mulder looked up from his work to check the clock. Sure enough: quitting time. He stood from his desk just as Scully did, making his way over to the coat rack to grab both his and Scully’s coats. She snapped her bag shut with a click as he handed it to her before slipping his arms into his own coat sleeves.

Scully fluffed her hair out from under the collar of her coat. Mulder flicked off the lamp. She draped her bag over her shoulder. He grabbed his own briefcase and circled around his desk toward the door.

“Night, Scully,” he spoke like he did every evening, dipping down to place a quick kiss goodbye on her lips.

He froze.

Lips still touching, he swore he felt his heart stop and his fingers go numb. Somehow amid all the blaring alarm bells and internal screaming, his brain was able to send the signal back away, you idiot! to the rest of his body, and he obeyed, straightening up to look at her with what he knew she recognized as his ‘panic face.’

The only light now was coming from the streetlamps in the parking lot and the gentle snowfall reflecting it down into the office, the dim yellowish light making it difficult to tell what she was thinking. A wiser man would say something, apologize, explain it away, even leave, dang it! Get out of there! But Mulder was frozen. And apparently mute. Just perfect.

The seconds ticked by. Was that clock always so loud? That was it, he’d really gone and done it now, hadn’t he?

A smile formed across Scully’s lips, barely visible in the darkness. She blinked up at him with an oddly relaxed look in her eyes, sparkling in the faint light.

“Night, Mulder,” she replied before patting him twice on the chest above his heart and turning to leave.

It must have been a combination of her words and her touch that eventually broke him from his stupor, because he finally blinked and managed to stumble back to his office chair only to collapse into it, covering his face with his hands and letting out a muffled scream.

What an idiot. What. An. Idiot.

This was the price he had to pay for his risky little endeavor to sleep through the night. Dreaming of Scully had a cost, he should have known it was only a matter of time. He was messing with the delicate balance of things. Mulder and insomnia, insomnia and Mulder. They went hand-in-hand. Trading it in for the much more pleasant musings he had for his partner was too good to be true.

He sat there in horrified, humiliated silence for what felt like hours before finally heading home to what would inevitably be an appallingly horrible night’s sleep.

-.-.-

Mulder hadn’t slept. At all.

He laid awake most of the night staring at the ceiling and mentally berating himself over and over for blurring the lines so much that he’d briefly forgotten he and Scully weren’t actually together. He had every intent to call out of work the next day, and maybe the day after that, every day until he could come up with something to say to make things less awkward between them the next time they’d see each other, but then Skinner called.

His stomach dropped to the floor when the words “I need to ask you something,” crackled through the phone, the gruff voice of his boss sending a chill down his spine. It turned out all Skinner wanted was for Mulder and Scully to check out some reported aquatic dinosaur sightings in a lake in central Kansas, but Mulder still felt dizzy from the adrenaline the initial words had sent coursing through his system.

Against his wishes, he was dressed and in a taxi to the airport before noon, realizing too late that he hadn’t eaten anything either.

As he entered the bustling terminal, he saw Scully standing near the check-in point, dressed in her sensible heels and no-nonsense suit, her suitcase resting on the ground near her tapping foot. She checked her watch and glanced up to the departures sign before scanning the crowd. He winced as her sight settled on him, and picked up the pace.

“Jeez, Mulder, you look awful,” she said by way of greeting.

“Sorry I’m late,” he spoke, hoping to divert any conversation away from what had happened the night prior.

She wasn’t so easily dissuaded, however. “What happened to you? Are you sick?”

It seemed he would have to say something after all. He settled for, “Haven’t had anything to eat.” There. That would throw her off his scent.

Scully’s eyebrows furrowed and she grabbed the handle of her suitcase, beginning to pull it in the direction of their gate. “Well, you can have the other half of my muffin, it’s in my purse.”

He said nothing after that, choosing to follow after her like a lost puppy. They made their way through the metal detectors and had just enough time to get to their gate before they were boarding.

True to her word, just as soon as they’d reached cruising altitude, Scully extracted half a blueberry muffin from her purse and placed it on the tray table in front of Mulder, who was leaning heavily on the wall of the plane, staring blankly out the window. He mumbled his thanks and ate it in 3 clean bites, feeling only slightly guilty for inhaling his food like that in front of her.

Sensing that he wasn’t in a talkative mood, Scully posed a one-word question. “Insomnia?”

Mulder leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“I thought it was getting better?”

“It was,” he answered, hoping she wouldn’t read into it.

Mulder sat up again, reaching for a book in his bag, but Scully’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. Gently, she pushed him back until he was resting again, forcing his head to the head rest with the soft touch of her hand over his brow.

“Sleep,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

-.-.-

After the rocky start to the day and the awkwardness on his end throughout the flight, Mulder came to the conclusion that Scully was acting perfectly normal, so he might as well do the same. Well, she had kissed him on the cheek, but that wasn’t unheard of, was it? They’d done that before. Sure, it was rare, but she was worried about him. Aside from that, it was as if nothing had even happened, and if Mulder had been just a little more crazy, he might have believed it had all been a dream after all. It wasn’t though, and the touch of her lips on his still burned when he thought about it.

Against his better judgement, on the first night in the motel in central Kansas, he decided to employ his, now patently risky, sleep technique. It didn’t help that his subconscious supplied him with dreams of a family road trip and motels just like the one he was staying in. It took everything in his power not to say, “Wake up, buddy, time to hit the road,” to an invisible—and sadly, impossible—son in the morning. Even harder was it to suppress the words “Morning, beautiful,” from escaping his lips when he first ran into Scully in the lobby.

She seemed appeased that he had actually gotten some rest, at least, when she saw him at breakfast. The day went on without issue. Things between them were… normal. Conditions: good. Weather: frigid. Why they were investigating a potentially cold-blooded creature in the middle of February was beyond him.

He suspected this case would turn out to be yet another wild goose chase. Nothing was living in that water except maybe a very cold and very large escaped alligator from a nearby run-down zoo. Unfortunately, his recent contentment with boring, unexciting cases didn’t seem to apply here. Or at least right now.

To his relief, the local law enforcement decided to handle it themselves and even had the presence of mind to sheepishly apologize for having them come all the way out there. Flights were booked for the next day, following an almost four-hour drive back to Kansas City.

When they arrived back at the motel, Mulder fished out his room key from his pocket and inserted it into the door to unlock it. At the next door over, Scully set her briefcase on the ground before crossing the distance to him right as he turned the handle, stalling him briefly in the doorway. She stood there just long enough to reach up for a quick peck on the lips, the kiss as brief as he had done two nights before.

“Wha—” he mouthed silently, interrupted by Scully’s easy, “Goodnight, Mulder,” leaving him gaping at her in the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob, as she went off to bed.

-.-.-

It was getting harder to tell fiction from reality, and that was tough for Mulder to admit. Scully smiled at him in the morning when she climbed in the passenger seat of their rental car, and for a moment Mulder felt the gnawing feeling that they’d forgotten to put their son in the backseat despite knowing he wasn’t real. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but that could only help so much.

Her humming half the ride home was straight out of his dreams too, a happy sound that he hadn’t heard much in the months since Christmas and Emily. She even held his hand during takeoff on the plane, not that that was uncommon, but still.

When they finally touched down in the snow blanketed capitol city, she offered to drive him home rather than have him wait for a taxi out in the cold. He gratefully accepted, unable to come up with a valid excuse not to. That was when it happened again.

Once was a mistake. Twice was a fluke. Three times on the lips, and Mulder had some questions. Namely, was he going completely crazy, or did he miss something?

As she pulled up to his building, she put the car in park and stretched across the center console to give him yet another kiss, finishing it with a smile and a, “See you tomorrow, Mulder.”

Unable to tear his eyes away from her lest she fade away like his dreams, Mulder fumbled for the door handle and pushed open the car door, stumbling his way to his feet.

“See you tomorrow,” he managed to respond, in a voice that he felt wasn’t his own.

He started his way toward the entrance to his building in a daze, screeching to a halt when he heard her call out, “Mulder!” through the opened passenger window.

He turned back, croaking out a very eloquent, “Huh?” as he searched for her face in the dark car interior.

“You forgot your bags.”

Oh.

Scully chuckled and popped the trunk for him. He rubbed his hand awkwardly over the back of his neck and trudged his way back to the car to retrieve his possessions, slamming the trunk shut when he was finished. Scully gave a wave out the window and took off into the night, and for a second night in a row, all he could do was stand there and blink in the direction she had disappeared.

-.-.-

Calling out of work would be useless, it wouldn’t help the issue at all. He was more confused than ever, but Scully seemed to be perfectly fine, so it must be his own problem. What if he’d somehow manifested his dream life into his waking one, that by some mystical force, certain elements of it were slipping through into reality? He could open an X-File. Test out his powers of manifestation—if he didn’t completely lose his grip on reality in the process.

In his dream last night, they’d celebrated her birthday, and now he couldn’t remember if they’d already done so, or if he ought to get started on planning something in real life. What day is it again? It was driving him crazy. Crazier than usual.

He would just have to talk to her. Ask her what was up with all the kissing, not that he minded. But was that actually happening? Was he imagining things? If he brought it up, would they go back to what it was like before? Would it get worse? What if he kissed her again? This time on purpose?

Every time he went to say something, his mouth opened and no sound came out. He was sure she’d notice at some point. How embarrassing. Hours ticked by, and before he knew it, it was the end of the day. An epic fail, as far as his attempt to talk to her went.

He stood from his desk with a sigh, resigned to another day of confusion tomorrow, and started toward the door with his bag and coat in tow.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” her voice called from behind him, and there she was, standing by his desk, arms crossed expectantly over her chest. That eyebrow. That darn eyebrow was doing its thing too, what does she mean by that?

“Scully?” he asked, brain tired and worn out from a tumultuous week.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked again, uncrossing her arms and shifting in that way that exposed her well-masked nervousness. It was the first sign he’d seen that he wasn’t losing his mind, this really was unusual. And she knew it too.

Eyebrows furrowed, he walked toward her until he was standing right in front of her, desperately trying to read her expression as he looked down at her. Her eyes met his with determination, deliberately holding eye contact when every cell in his body screamed Danger! Run away! There was hope there, too, but Mulder didn’t want to guess what that hope might be for. This was not the moment for guessing.

She was still looking at him expectantly, though, and he couldn’t think of anything else.

Slowly, giving her plenty of time to move away or shoot him if he’d read the situation wrong, he bent toward her, placing one hand over her elbow and the other brushing lightly over the hair covering her ear. Her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing hitched, and there! She was leaning forward too! Not quite standing on tiptoes, but stretching to meet him, nonetheless.

Taking this as a good sign, he closed the rest of the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, holding them there for one, two, three, four, five seconds before pulling back and letting his arms drop to his sides. His eyes remained tightly shut, afraid to open them and see the disgust or annoyance that would surely greet him.

He swallowed past a lump in his throat, his face pinched in concern, but he dared not move. After a moment, he felt two hands cup his cheeks on either side, the thumbs brushing out the lines of tension around his eyes. Something about the motion coaxed his eyes open, and what he saw wasn’t disgust or annoyance, but a content and relieved smile on the face of his partner.

He was entranced.

“Goodnight, Mulder,” she spoke softly, the same words from the other nights, but with a considerable amount of weight that hadn’t been there before. After a moment more, she began to pull away, and Mulder felt his heart stutter. Without thinking, he stopped her, grabbing her by the upper arms and pulling her to him. His eyes fell shut again as he dove toward her lips, stopping short by a few inches and pressing his forehead to hers instead.

“What is this?” he whispered, desperate to know, needing to put a name to it.

She let out a breathless laugh. “I was hoping you’d tell me.”

“Am I dreaming?”

She laughed again, and man, what he would do to hear that sound every day for the rest of his life.

“I just thought you’d decided to institute a new goodbye ritual, and went with it.”

It was Mulder’s turn to smile in amusement. He hummed.

“No, I’ve dreamt of this,” he murmured, nuzzling her forehead with his. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“If you are, then what does that make me?”

“I don’t know. If not crazy, then what other option is there?”

Reaching to cup the back of his neck, she pulled him ever closer, her next words brushing against his cheek. “I can think of something.”

His eyes opened to see her staring back at him, a flood of emotions he wasn’t sure he could name dancing there, reflecting identical ones in his own. Uncertainty gave way to resolve, and he hoped she would lend him some of hers, because he would surely need it.

He knew it was coming, and still it blew him away.

This time, her kiss was slow… purposeful. He melted into her, pulling her closer with an arm clutching to her waist and the other hand splayed across her shoulder blade.

The fog in his brain prevented him from determining how much time passed, but eventually they had to come up for air, identical smiles gracing their faces.

“I think I know what this is, Mulder, and I think you feel the same way. But if I’m wrong, this is going to be really awkward.” Her words were spoken with laughter, but there was an underlying sense of doubt. Doubt that by no means had any place there.

“No, I think you’re right,” he answered, cupping her cheek with his hand. “I think you’ve got it figured out.”

Her eyebrow went up again and a teasing smile played on her lips. “Can I get that in writing, or…”

He grinned and pulled her to him once more. “Oh, shut up.” And he kissed her.

---

Tagging @agent-troi @welsharcher @hippocampouts @invidiosa @whovianelle @captainsolocide @randomfoggytiger @today-in-fic

[luvmelikelluvu]

Behind the Bench

Chapter Seven - Stolen Moments

I love this little chapter 😙

Ophelia leaned against the cool brick of the small café, the October wind tugging at her scarf as she checked her phone for the fifth time. Her nerves buzzed with a mix of anticipation and unease. She knew this date, just like every other secret meeting with Kirby, had to be handled carefully. After the close call at the rink, things between them felt more delicate, as if one wrong move could shatter everything. But she couldn’t let herself think that way. Not tonight.

Just as she was about to pocket her phone, a familiar voice cut through the quiet evening air.

“Waiting on someone?” Kirby’s playful tone sent a shiver down her spine.

Ophelia turned to see him standing a few feet away, grinning beneath the collar of his jacket. He looked effortlessly cool, his hair tousled by the wind, his hands shoved casually into his pockets as he sauntered toward her.

“Maybe,” she teased, her lips curving into a smile as he approached. “Though I’m starting to wonder if he’s worth the wait.”

Kirby chuckled, closing the distance between them, his eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the streetlamp overhead. “Lucky for me, I know I’m worth it.”

Ophelia laughed, rolling her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her cheek—a brief, stolen moment of affection. Despite the ease in his voice, she could feel the tension humming between them. The risk was always there, lurking beneath the surface, but for now, she pushed it aside. Tonight was supposed to be about them, away from the pressures of the rink and her father’s watchful eye.

“Ready?” Kirby asked, gesturing toward the entrance of the small café behind them. The dimly lit space was tucked away on a quiet street, far from the crowded sports bars that their teammates or fans might frequent. It was the kind of place where they could blend in, just two people on a simple date.

Ophelia nodded, looping her arm through his as they walked inside. The warmth of the café wrapped around them, a comforting contrast to the chilly air outside. Soft jazz music played in the background, and the smell of fresh coffee and baked pastries filled the room. They found a cozy booth in the corner, tucked away from the few other patrons, and settled in.

As they sat across from each other, Ophelia felt her nerves start to fade. For a few moments, it almost felt like they were just a regular couple, out on a normal date. No secrets, no hidden glances, no worrying about being caught.

“So,” Kirby began, his eyes locking onto hers with that familiar playful glint, “what’s the game plan for tonight? Besides swooning over my natural charm, of course.”

Ophelia snorted, shaking her head. “Natural charm, huh? Pretty sure that’s not why I’m here.”

“Really?” Kirby leaned back in his seat, mock-offended. “I could’ve sworn it was my undeniable charm and amazing game-winning goals.”

Ophelia shot him a smirk. “Mmm, maybe it’s more the fact that you promised me dessert. I’m here for the pastries, not the flattery.”

Kirby’s grin widened, and he waved over the server, quickly ordering two slices of chocolate cake and hot coffee for them both. As soon as the server left, Kirby’s playful demeanor softened, his eyes lingering on her face in a way that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, leaning forward slightly. “Just… being with you.”

Ophelia’s smile faltered for a second, her heart squeezing at the sincerity in his voice. She had missed this too—the moments where they weren’t worrying about being caught, where it was just the two of them. She reached across the table, her fingers brushing against his.

“Me too,” she whispered. “I feel like we’re always hiding.”

Kirby’s expression grew serious, his hand curling around hers. “I know it’s hard,” he admitted. “And sometimes I hate it. But I also know we’ll figure it out.”

She nodded, her thumb tracing circles over his knuckles. She wanted to believe him. Being with Kirby made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in so long, and the thought of giving that up—of giving him up—was unbearable. But every stolen moment came with the threat of discovery, and that weight was starting to feel heavier with each passing day.

“Here you go,” the server interrupted, placing two plates of cake in front of them with steaming cups of coffee.

Ophelia smiled politely at the server, but as soon as she walked away, she couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh. Kirby raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

“What’s so funny?”

Ophelia stabbed her fork into the cake and took a bite, savoring the rich sweetness before answering. “Just thinking about how normal this feels,” she admitted. “Like we’re just… us. No pressure, no drama. Just cake and coffee.”

Kirby smiled softly, his gaze warm as he watched her. “I like it,” he said after a moment, taking a sip of his coffee. “We need more nights like this. Less hiding, more… living.”

Ophelia nodded, her heart swelling at the thought. She wanted that too. She wanted nights like this where they could just be together without constantly looking over their shoulders.

They spent the next hour talking and laughing, the weight of their secret momentarily forgotten in the warmth of the café. Ophelia couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so at ease, so content. Being with Kirby felt natural, like the rest of the world didn’t matter as long as they had each other.

But as they stepped outside later, the cold night air hit her like a reminder of the reality they couldn’t escape. The spell of their date broke, and the familiar tension crept back in.

Kirby wrapped his arm around her as they walked down the quiet street, pulling her close to shield her from the wind. For a moment, they walked in comfortable silence, their footsteps the only sound.

“You okay?” Kirby asked softly, his arm tightening around her.

Ophelia glanced up at him, her heart swelling with affection despite the lingering unease. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I’m okay.”

Kirby leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured again, his breath warm against her skin.

Ophelia closed her eyes for a moment, letting the comfort of his words wash over her. She didn’t know how they would navigate the challenges ahead, but she knew one thing for sure—she wasn’t ready to give this up. Not yet.

As they reached the end of the street, Kirby turned to her, his eyes serious. “Meet me tomorrow?” he asked, his voice low. “Same time?”

Ophelia hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Same time,” she agreed, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear.

Kirby smiled, his eyes softening. “Good,” he whispered, before pressing one last kiss to her lips.

And with that, they parted ways, the thrill of the night lingering as Ophelia walked away, her heart full, and her resolve even stronger.

[i-writes-things]

Avenger Birthday Bash

Natasha x daughter!reader

Summary: Natasha's daughter isn't the fondest of her mom's new girlfriend. BIRTHDAY PARTY

Warnings: fluffy, remembering past.

Extra Pairings:

Bruce Banner x Platonic!reader

Natasha x Maria Hill

Not my gifs*

“I think I owe her that at least.”

“I’ll start planning!”

“No, no I am not letting you plan any part of this!”

“It’ll be lovely.” Maria kissed her girlfriend good bye and left Natasha speechless.

-

“Mom…?” You emphasized dramatically down the corridors of the Avengers compound. “Mom-” you turned a corner, almost bumping into, well, Maria Hill. Your mom’s girlfriend, who you liked and the relationship wasn’t new to you so it wasn’t as awkward as it use to be around her. “Hey, Miss Hill,” Except for that. That made things unnecessarily awkward. “Have you seen my mom?”

“Hello, Y/n, yes she is up in the kitchen.” The moment being stretched out by neither of you moving away to continue down your separate paths. You didn't have anything else to say, but the second you started to move she stuttered saying, “Hey- So- Y/n,” You turned back to her, “ You excited for your birthday?”

“Yeah I am, thanks.” And with that you were gone.

Before Maria and Natasha had become “a thing” you would joke around with the commander when going on mission or seeing her around the compound. So now that the demeanor between the both of you is very different, neither of you knows how to get back to normal. You hadn’t thought about it for too long at one time.

Her and mom might not even last, so what does it matter.

-

“Happy birthday, pretty girl!” Natasha kissed your cheek as you woke up to her voice. “Look whos awake,” You breathed in and rolled into her arms. “Hu- Hi my sweets, are you hungry. Wanda made your favorite.” Instantly smiling, you bring your mom into a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, mama.”

“Your welcome,” she kissed your forehead, “Tell your aunt the same.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll see you down there?”

“Yes.”

-

“Happy birthday Y/n!” Wanda exclaimed as you walked in the kitchen, Sam and Bucky joining in, in wishing you a good birthday. Even Thor hoped your birthday would be godly. You ate and thanked your aunt for the food, then set out to find your mother for your birthday party. You walked down the halls in search of the distant music, or bumping into bruce racing to get to your party before you could find it. While all you found was Natasha comforting her girlfriend of your presence.

“Hasn’t been so long.”

“It’s been long enough.”

“She’ll come around.

“I don’t know, Nat. She-”

“Look at me, Maria. I will have a chat with my daughter about this. Y/n, likes you, I know she does. I guess this is just still new to her.” You had heard enough, and was walking away, trying to take extra long to “find” the party itself, as it seemed they needed a minute. Thus, when walking down halls feeling guilty and having an accused look on your face, of course it was Bruce to find you. He couldn’t really tell what you were feeling, but knew it had a sort of weight to it.

“You find the extravaganza, yet, kid?” He tried a smile and you returned it, softly.

“Not yet, but by the way your headed, it seems I’m going the wrong direction.”

“Maybe,” You knew you were, but Bruce didn’t, “maybe not.” A light beat passed before he went on. “Walk with me?” He started walking and you kept up with him at his right side.

“You make anything for the party?” You asked, as Bruce and Tony usually teamed up to make you a cool invention each year.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” You groaned, wanting him to just tell you.

“Come on-”

“I am not saying a word, Y/n.”

“Alright, fine. Bruce, can I ask your opinion.”

“Sure.”

“What do you think about mom and Maria?” Bruce’s eyes furrowed, as he walked on. He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t thought to much on the idea.

“Well, their dating.”

“Everyone knows that, fool. Do you think they are gonna last?” Contemplating your words, he turns to you.

“I can’t answer that, all I know is that they are a good couple right now, how am I supposed to know if they will be in a year, or 10 years. I am not sure if Natasha can even answer that one for you, kid.” He finished and saw the expression on your face, then putting am arm around your shoulders, forcing you to move with him. “Lets go have a great party, okay?’

“Yeah, okay.”

“It is your Birthday, after all!”

-

Walking into the party, where everyone and everything was setting up to look like an extravagant birthday card, you smiled at your family’s hard work..

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N!!” They all shouted at somewhat of the same time. You cut the cake, and opened presents, Natasha took your picture with all the family behind you, Thor picked you up in a tight but loving hug, Tony helped you blow out your candles, calling you old and Bruce showed you the invention he and Tony had worked on. A new suit, just for you.

“MOM! TONY AND BRUCE GOT ME A NEW SUIT.” You shouted across the room. Natasha saw how excited you were, and so decided she would yell at the men later, about the safety of her daughter. Right now was her birthday.

“That’s wonderful! You’ll have to wear it to training.”

-

Once the late afternoon had started, there was no stopping it or Avengers becoming tired from all the birthday happenings. And while laying on the couch with your mom, watching some show, you turned to her and asked about Maria and her, letting her know about the awkward situation that had gone on earlier.

“Maria isn’t going anywhere, sweetheart.” Your eyes wandered towards commander Hill.

“But what about me?

“What about you, baby?

“I don’t know, when are we gonna hang out? Ever?” Natasha’s eyes fluttered, not realizing what you had been feeling.

“We will hang out all the time. She could never take me away from you baby, okay?” You just nod, and go in for a hug. “Come on, babe, lets go celebrate my little widow.”

[chasing-chimeras]

Preview of Chapter 19 of Green Zone - "Woven Into the Lives of Others"

below the cut

Liam’s lips are on him. Liam’s lips are always on him these days. On his neck, his collarbone, his left ear, his hands, his hip, his stomach. Liam blankets him in kisses; chapped lips against his skin. He leaves spots of dampness in his wake, which Theo dutifully pretends to be irritated by. The truth is that he could be drowning in Liam and he’d never come up for air.

That should terrify you.

“Let me?” Liam pulls Theo down from the heights of his dangerous delight with hands on his waist, thumb prodding at the button of Theo’s jeans.

“We talked about it,” Theo says without elaboration. They did. Sort of. It was more like Liam badgered him with endless attempts to get into his pants and Theo finally conjured up a rational explanation as to why he's hesitant. Not a true reason, but one that would make sense to any normal person.

Liam's not normal, so the lesson hasn't really stuck.

“Theo, I’m dying,” Liam whimpered and pressed his hips into Theo’s torso as the older boy placed a kiss right above his bellybutton.

“What happened to ‘waiting never killed anyone’?” Theo referenced back to their conversation between the pallets.

“You can wait as long as you want.” Liam’s tone fell to a flat sincerity that felt so alien in the darkness and sluggish heat cradling their bodies. “I just want to know why? It’s not like I can get you pregnant,” Liam complained, immediately earning a derisive sneer in return.

“There are a lot of assumptions in that sentence,” he spat back, trying to conceal the flattered heat in his cheeks. Luckily, it was Liam, so he was overwhelmed by his own disordered anxieties.

“I don’t know how any of this works!” Liam complained, hoarsely, dropping his forehead to Theo’s stomach.

“I don’t know Liam, but I’m pretty sure you don’t volunteer the other guy to take it up the ass.”

“You’ve been gay for a week and you’re suddenly an expert?”

Theo had raised his brows in response, holding back a smile.

“I could just…you know?” Liam lifted his head and followed up with the most grotesque and excruciatingly humiliating miming of what he wanted to do to Theo, and that’s not even mentioning his poor technique.

“I want to wait.”

“Okay.” Liam dropped his pushing, affecting indifference, but Theo could feel the disappointment rolling off of him.

“It’s just not safe,” Theo lied in attempt to console him. It wasn’t. Not for the usual reasons, but because of what Theo might do to Liam; how he might see him in the aftermath of an act which has never been anything but pleasurable friction and release for him. How could he be certain that the consuming pull, magnetic and tortured, wouldn’t be diminished if he and Liam were to go to that sickeningly casual place together? Nothing with Liam has been casual.

“I’m a virgin,” Liam pathetically reminded Theo. He was no longer pushing, having accepted Theo’s rejection and crawled back up to lay beside him. “I don’t have anything. Is…” He froze, realizing the degradingly invasive nature of his question.

“I’ve always used condoms,” Theo said, erasing that fear before it could take root in Liam’s imagination. “I’m pretty sure that I’m good on that front. But you never know, I guess.” It was as good enough a reason as any. And Theo would rather Liam think he’s partial to a healthy over-caution, rather than knowing that he’s terrified of sex that wouldn’t be just sex.

“Is…” Liam paused to think, but typical to his nature, didn’t think hard enough to reel back his sincerity. “Is it bad that I kind of don’t care?”

“Jesus Chr—yes, Liam! Yes, that’s very bad. Didn’t you have like a health class in school or something? What is wrong with you?”

Liam shrugged. “There are zombies outside. I feel like there are bigger things to worry about than STDs.”

“Even the kind that slowly rots your brain over decades?”

“That exists?” Liam’s eyes widened and his lips parted in dismay.

Theo shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Better to play it safe.”

That reignited Liam’s fire to fight and he set his jaw, staring into Theo’s eyes with grave solemnity. “If I get bitten by a zombie and die a virgin, I’ll have rotting brains anyway. Would you have sex with me then?”

Theo rolled his eyes. “Sure Liam. If you get bit, I’ll sleep with you in your final moments.”

“Really?” Liam sounded almost touched.

“I’m gonna kill you myself.”