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[investingdrone]

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[bigification]

Avengers Assemble - Halloween TF

"I can't believe Tony rented out the entire fucking penthouse for this shit." Bruce exclaimed as the three men entered the elevator.

"When has he ever spent less than like 100 grand on a party." Jon responded.

"And why did it have to be a Marvel themed Halloween party, I could have been some sexy vampire or something. Now I'm stuck in this tight ass captain america suit." Grant complained.

"At least you didn't have to paint yourself green for your costume."

"Aww, but it was so perfect. Your name is Bruce so you had to be Bruce Banner."

"Then why couldn't I just throw in some glasses and wear some nerdy clothes. I don't know why I should have to paint myself green if all you have to do is throw on a chest plate and buy a cheap hammer off Amazon."

"Hey, I dyed my hair blonde for this costume. And you didn't have to paint yourself green."

The men's bickering was interrupted by the elevator door suddenly opening. It was still one level lower than the penthouse.

"You pressed the wrong fucking floor Grant." Bruce accused.

"I pressed the one that said penthouse." Grant defended.

Their bickering was once again interrupted as a futuristic robot approached the elevator.

"Welcome to Stark Tower, please come in to confirm identity." The robot asked.

The three men stood in confusion for a moment before reluctantly following the robot out of the elevator.

"Tony spent more money on this than I thought."

"His dad must have given him a bigger allowance this month."

"There is no allowance. Mr. Stark built with his own hands."

"Who the fuck are you talking about, Mr. Stark?"

"Dude shut up, it was probably just programmed to along with the theme of the party."

The robot suddenly stopped in the middle of the room and turned towards the men.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot asked facing Bruce.

"Uugh ok. Tony's really commited to this theme." Bruce said while reaching his hand toward the robot. "Ah fuck!" Bruce yelled as a small needle pierced his hand.

"Identity confirmed, welcome Bruce Banner."

"What the hell was that?" Bruce recoiled.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot turned to Grant, ignoring Bruce's reaction.

Jon reluctantly reached out his hand and a similar needle punctured his hand.

"Ow, that hurt more than I thought it would."

"Identity confirmed, welcome Steve Rogers."

"Oh that's sick!" Grant yelled in excitement.

"Please reach out your hand so I can confirm your identity." The robot turned to the last man, Jon.

"Hmmm." Jon mumbled under his breath, trying to hide his pain.

"Identity confirmed, welcome Thor."

The men stood there in silence for a moment, waiting for the robot to give them further instructions.

"Sooo?" Jon asked, getting impatient.

"Waiting for transformation process."

"What?" Grant said in an aggressive tone.

"Guys... What's going on?" Bruce held out his arm, showing his veins turn to a green hue.

"What the fuck is happening to you?" Jon took a few steps away from him.

"I... Don't... Know." Bruce struggled to say as his voice turned into more of a growl. All his muscles tensed up as his body began to grow. His spine stretched, making his height grow higher and higher by the second.

"Oh my god..." Grant's jaw dropped as he watched his friend grow. His head tilted back as he now had to look up at Bruce.

Bruce grunted and growled, it sounded like he was in pain and pleasure. His shoulder nearly doubled in size as his biceps grew to the size of watermelons. His forearms followed suit and his hands became massive, big enough to wrap fully around someone's head.

"What did you do to him!?" Jon yelled at the robot, to no response.

By this point Bruce's skin was completely green, but his body was far from complete. His flat chest surged with muscle, creating two meaty pecs that hung over his stomach. Speaking of his stomach, all the fat he accumulated in his gut from his lavish lifestyle melted away, leaving him with a defined six pack and a V shaped torso.

"Huuu... Uulk." Bruce managed to speak in a deep raspy voice.

His two friends couldn't say a word, they just stood watching him morph into a monster.

The transformation shifted down towards his legs, on the way his flat ass burst outward with fat, creating two perky fat cheeks that threatened to rip through his costumes purple shorts. The bulge in the front of his tight shorts grew exponentially. At first it was barely visible against the taught fabric, but it grew to 8, 10, 12, over 14 inches in moments. It swung out as it finally ripped through his poor pants.

His thighs quickly followed, growing even longer and making Hulk's head hit the ceiling. They grew thicker than tree stumps, making his monstrous dick seem more proportional. And his feet ripped through his tiny shoes in an instant, easily growing 30 sizes in seconds.

"Is it me or is he kinda hot now." Grant said.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" Jon yelled, completely shocked at what he heard.

"I... I don't know why I said that." Grant seemed to snap out of the trance he was in.

Bruce's transformation finally came to an end as his head began to change. His head grew at least twice the size, now being in proportion with the rest of his massive body. His jawline became more square and his jawline became more prominent, giving him a more masculine look to match the huge muscles on his body. His hair shortened to a buzz cut and became a black colour as a black five I clock shadow covered his face. The hair quickly spread across his body, especially covering his chest.

"Hulk... Is... Me." Hulk managed to say between heavy breaths.

"Welcome, Hulk." The robot said as he brought over a rock necklace and a massive towel.

The hulk put on the necklace and covered himself with the towel before taking a seat and waiting for his friends to arrive.

"Is it just me or is it really hot in here, this stupid costume is making me sweat." Grant complained as he tried to readjust the tight suit.

"Yeah it's just you.." Jon paused as he turned to face Grant. "Dude, look at your arms."

Grant stopped pulling at his uniform and looked down at his own body. His arms were almost pulsating, getting bigger and bigger each time.

"Ohhh no, it's happening to you too." Jon backed away from his friends, afraid of what was to come. Grant was completely distracted by his own body, unable to process his friend's reaction.

Grant's arms grew until they threatened to rip through his uniform, showing off his perfect definition through the fabric. His hands followed suit, becoming thick and calloused from whipping that shield around all the time. On that note, he felt the shield on his back become significantly heavier as the once cheap plastic shield became pure Vibranium. His shoulders then broadened, growing until they perfectly fit the straps that held his shield, as if that uniform had been custom fit to him.

"Grant? What the fuck is going on!" Jon yelled, but it was as if Grant couldn't even hear him.

"No Grant. Steve." The hulk replied.

Steve's body started to seize slightly as his chest burst out into two muscly pecs, accented by the silver star that boldly sat on top of them. The skin tight suit had previously shown off his small gut and fluffy love handles, but his gut dramatically swelled and stretched his uniform to its brink before collapsing into itself, leaving a sharp six pack and slutty waist in its place.

"Damn, Rogers. You're gonna need to show me how you abs like that." Jon said in a British accent, which was an odd departure from his American accent. He immediately covered his mouth, in shock of both what he said and the accent he said it in. Though the remark did get a laugh from the Hulk.

Steve leaned forward as his previously unremarkable ass swelled into the 'Americas Ass' that he's well known for. His pant legs looked as if they'd been pumped with air as his thighs thickened and filled his pants to their limit. And the loose pouch covering his crotch came in good use when his dick started to pulsate, similar to how his muscles had before they grew. Pleasure shot all through his body as one of his hands held his crotch and the other cupped his thick pecs. All he could think about was how hot it was that he was the Steve Rogers. And meanwhile his dick grew harder and longer, much larger than it ever had before. It pressed hard against his uniform, pulsating back and forth, begging for release. Well he would have to wait long. He let out a deep moan in an unrecognizable voice while a stain developed in his crotch.

"Ah, fuck not again. I can't keep bringing this suit back to the dry cleaners with cum stains on it."

While he complained, well trimmed hairs sprouted across his face as his jawline sharpened. His face slimmed down and his features became more mature and masculine.

"Ugh, I don't know why but my muscles feel so tight today. I need to get back to the gym."

The robot approached him while he was stretching his muscles.

"Welcome Captain America." The robot said while handing over a small towel for the stain in his pants.

"Thanks buddy."

"You realize it's just a robot, you don't need to be nice to it." Jon replied in a condescending tone, fully letting in to the British accent.

"Thor are you drunk already, we haven't even got to the party yet." Steve laughed.

"I... I'm not Thor." Jon slurred his words, despite not having drank anything yet.

"Sure." Steve replied as he turned towards the Hulk. "What's up." He said as he punched the Hulk on the shoulder.

"Waiting... Thor."

"Me too buddy, he'll be here soon."

Steve sat beside Hulk and the two sat and waited for their friend to arrive.

Jon stumbled around the room trying to find his balance. His mind was a blur as it adjusted to the changes his body was going through. He gritted his teeth as a bushy blonde beard sprouted from his face. It grew down to his chest, unkept and untamed. And his short brown hair started to grow long, becoming a lighter hue in the process.

"I don't remember Thor having a massive beard like that, it kinda suits him." Steve pointed out.

Much like his two friends, Jon's body began to rapidly grow, but it didn't go quite like it had for the others. Sure his arms did grow large with muscle, but they also got covered in a thick layer of fat, making them lose their definition. The same happened to his forearms, and his hands became thick as fat pumped his fingers like sausages.

His shoulders broadened to fit his costume, but unlike Steve, his uniform remained a cheap knock off. The metal armour was just silver fabric and the cape was just a red blanket. That wouldn't matter for long though as his flat stomach started to bulge outward. Surely this was leading to Thor's chiselled abs being formed under his uniform, but it wasn't. Steve and Hulk watched in horror as a round beer gut slowly grew under the god's costume. The cheap fabric ripped to shreds, releasing his soft belly to hang over his waist band.

"I don't remember that being there." Steve remarked.

"Thor fat?" Hulk asked.

"It looks like it, yeah."

It wasn't over however. If the massive gut wasn't bad enough, his now bare chest began to swell. At first it seemed like they were growing with muscle, but the muscle quickly became engulfed in soft fat. They swelled into man tits, sagging to the sides of his gut. His back didn't fare much better, rolls of fat formed all down his formerly chiselled back and thick love handles filled in his thin waist, rounding out his body shape.

"Oh god it's awful, but I can't take my eyes off of it. Isn't there something hot about the god of thunder letting himself go and becoming... that." Steve pointed out, looking to Hulk for a response. Hulk only gave a shrug in response.

Thor leaned against a wall for support, trying to get used to his changing proportions. Though he was far from over. The sound of fabric ripping once again echoed around the room as Thor's ass grew fat and flabby. His pants finally gave way when his thighs thickened, leaving him in nothing but a tight jockstrap that pressed into his soft legs.

"Ohhh that jock is not big enough for him." Steve chimed in, making sure to keep his eyes on Thor.

Steve was right, that jock was meant to contain Jon, not the god of thunder himself. His dick quickly doubled in length and girth, causing only the tip to be inside the jock, but his expanding fat pad quickly covered up most of his cock. Also the laces on his boots began to snap off when his feet grew 5 sizes, causing his shoes to be on the brink of exploding.

Meanwhile, his head was still undergoing changes. His now blonde hair grew down past his shoulders and matted together. His facial features grew strong and masculine, but also soft as the fat rounded out his face. And a thick double chin formed under his jaw, although it was luckily covered by his massive beard.

As the transformation came to an end, Thor finally took a step away from the wall. He let out a hefty belch while rubbing his stomach.

"Anyone got a beer?" He asked, seemingly annoyed.

The robot approached him.

"Welcome, Thor." It held out a pair of sweatpants and a beer.

Thor snatched the pants and slid them on before grabbing the beer and stumbling over to a nearby chair.

"Damn Thor, what happened to you." Steve commented while trying to contain his laughter.

"What do you mean what happened to me?" Thor played dumb.

"You got fat!" Steve was no longer containing his laughter as he walked across the room toward Thor.

"Well you're the perv with a cum stain." Thor tried laughing between beer fueled burps.

"You're calling me a perv, I remember what you did to me back in New York." Steve leaned in close enough to smell the beer off of Thor breath and ran his finger down Thor's gut towards his crotch.

"Oh so you do like the belly?" Thor flirted back.

"Hulk tired of waiting." Hulk grunted as he grabbed both men by the arms and dragged them towards the elevator. Thor seemingly unaware of the fact that he left his hammer behind. The previously plastic hammer sparkled with blue lightning as it sat behind Thor's chair.

The Hulk squeezed into the elevator, holding the two men on either side of him. The air was awkwardly silent though the short elevator ride while Hulk continued to hold Steve and Thor the entire time. The elevator chimed and the door opened to reveal Tony Stark, welcoming you to his penthouse.

[adventuresinpaldea]

August slipped away

Nemona x Juliana fanfic

Includes post-game spoilers.

During the painfully long plane trip from Unova to Paldea, Juliana sat restless by the window, nipping at her fingers, and watching the clouds pass by. It had been 3 months since she had last been in Paldea, well, actually less, if you consider her venture to Area Zero, but that hardly counts as a visit since she didn't even get to set foot in Naranja Academy or see any of her friends. 

Just three months prior, when returning from summer break to Naranja Academy, Juliana was met with a very rushed invitation to take part of a foreign studies program at Blueberry Academy in Unova, the same academy Carmine and Kieran attend. 

Turns out Director Cyrano had forgotten to send the invitation and transfer papers on time, which, according to Director Clavell, was not surprising in the slightest, so the school year had already started, Juliana had to make a decision right there and then to avoid missing any more classes.

Being this the opportunity of a lifetime, of course Juliana accepted, but she had to leave the very same day, in fact, she had only a couple of hours to say goodbye to her mom and friends. She hopped on Koraidon's back and dashed all the way to Cabo Poco, her mom was elated with the opportunity her daughter had been given, and, after helping her pack some clothes and personal items, kissed Juliana on the forehead and wished her the best of luck, and reminded her, of course, to call often and keep her up to date with her adventures. 

Juliana bolted right back to Naranja Academy, now she needed to find her friends, granted the easiest to find was Penny, she was chilling in her computer screen lit dorm watching some anime with her veevees while slurping a cup of noodles. Juliana just stormed in uninvited, startling Penny in the process.

"For Arceus sake Juliana, yeah you can visit me anytime but at least knock!!!" - Said Penny still grabbing at her own chest from the jumpscare.

"I'm so sorry, it's just I'm in a really big rush, I have to go in like an hour and a half and I couldn't go without talking to you guys" - Juliana blurted still half out of breath from running around.

Penny looked up at her with a confused look. - "go where? you're not going on another field trip to find strange ogers are you?" 

"AHAHAAHAHAHA don't talk about Ogerpon like that, and no, I'm actually going to Unova for a semester, the friends I made during the field trip to Kitakami study there and they got the director to invite me to go."

A slight sadness washed over Penny's face, afterall, Juliana was the main reason she managed to get her friends and herself back to school, but she understood, and it would be only for a few months, she wasn't about to hold her friend back from such an opportunity. 

The two girls said their goodbyes, Juliana promised to keep in touch and rushed out to look for Arven and Nemona.

She had only one hour left now. After checking their dorms and finding neither of her friends in their respective rooms, Juliana started to panic. She ran across school halls almost as fast as her Arcanine's extremespeed, eventually running into Arven who was on his way to the school's cafeteria.

Time was running shorter and shorter, she quickly explained where she was going and gave her friend a big hug, barely even hearing his words of encouragement before interrupting:

"Do you know where Nemona is???" - Juliana asked desperate. 

"I don't know, have you checked the schoolyard?"

Of course, the schoolyard, how didn't she think of that. Juliana thanked Arven, said her goodbyes and off she was again, running all the way up the seemingly infinite stairs at Naranja Academy. 

When she finally reached the schoolyard, Juliana took a second to catch her breath, she had never run this much in her life, not even when fleeing from way too strong titans with Arven. As soon as she felt like she was capable of breathing again, she started to look around, but to her dismay, Nemona was nowhere to be found, in reality, she even looked harder than she needed to since she could recognize her rival at a glance from miles away. 

Desperate, and having time running out on her, Juliana decided to call Nemona, she wasn't going to say goodbye over the phone of course, but she needed to know where she was. 

"RO-TO-TO-TO-TO-TO-TO..... RO-TO-TO-TO-TO-TO-TO..." - Nemona wasn't answering...

But Juliana kept insisting...

Until suddenly...

*ding-dong*

"Miss Juliana, your presence is requested at the entrance hall, again, Miss Juliana, your presence is requested at the entrance hall."

*ding-dong*

Juliana's stomach sank as she realized she was out of time. She tried calling one last time, but Nemona never picked up.

As she dragged her feet down the halls, in a sharp contrast to her previous electrifying speed, Juliana just hoped and prayed to Arceus Nemona would call back before she had to get on the plane, or, who knows, show up at the entrance hall, so she could hug her goodbye. 

Another wave of disappointment pulled her under into what seemed like a sea of sadness when she reached the entrance and Nemona was nowhere to be seen. 

Director Cyrano looked at the girl, with a kind but slightly impatient smile, before reiterating they really had to hurry. 

Juliana's head was a mess, so much in fact she even considered not going, but she couldn't just do that after Director Cyrano had gone to all that trouble to pick her up, so she hopped on a flying taxi with him to the airport, teary-eyed, staring down at the phone she had to turn off before getting on that plane. 

She even tried calling a few more times but to no avail.

As they arrived at the airport Juliana started typing, it was the most impersonal goodbye to the most important person, but she HAD to say something to Nemona.

"I tried finding you and then calling but I couldn't reach you, I needed to tell you, I got an invitation to go to Unova, sorry I don't have more time to explain, I have to get on the plane now, I'll call you when I get there tesoro" - The text read. Juliana quickly hit send as she climbed up the plane and sent her rotom phone to sleep.

The trip was treacherous and long. When she finally arrived in Unova, there was still somewhat of a journey to get to Blueberry Academy, but she couldn't wait. Juliana fired up her rotom phone back on and checked the notifications:

- 1 missed call from Nemona.

- "¡¿QUÉ!? UNOVA? WHY? WHEN?" 

3 missed calls from Nemona.

- "JULIANA YOU BETTER BE JOKING!!!"

2 missed calls from Nemona.

- "you shouldn't have promised to be rivals for life if you were just going to hop on the next best thing. I know the Unova league is awesome and all but for real?"

"The Unova league?!" - Juliana realized the fatality of her mistake, she shouldn't have been so vague and just told Nemona she was going as a transfer student for a semester, Nemona read the situation completely wrong. She tried calling to explain but Nemona wasn't picking up, to be fair, Juliana didn't really know what time it was back in Paldea, Nemona could very well be sleeping. The girl decided to call again another time.

After settling at Blueberry Academy and seeing her old friends, Juliana tried again, still no answer. Juliana got accepted to the BB League club and felt the urgent need to share the news with her best friend/rival so she tried calling again, Nemona still didn't answer. 

After beating each member of the BB elite 4 there was always one person she wanted to share the news with, after each victory she would dial up Nemona's number, each time she would feel defeated by the lack of response on Nemona's part. Then Juliana became the BB League champion. It was an awkward moment, impregnated with the uncertainty of what the league club would do when Juliana returned to Paldea, mixed with the uneasy feeling that came with seeing the state Kieran was left in. 

Juliana spaced out momentarily, longing for the simpler times that were becoming a champion-ranked trainer in Paldea, having her rival waiting impatiently outside the Pokémon League’s building, to greet her new champion friend with open arms and fiery eyes. Even after losing the battle in Mesagoza Square, Nemona was overjoyed, bursting at the seems with excitement for her friend, knowing they could continuously challenge each other to reach greater heights. And that's when it hit Juliana, the happiness she felt that week when she became champion, didn't come from the champion title, it came from the moments spent with her friend. 

Battling Nemona was different, sure battles in general were exciting, but, when she was battling Nemona, her hands would shake and she would feel this weird turning in her stomach, something she couldn't really pinpoint the reason for. She then took a moment to reflect on her treasure-hunt, how, out of all the challenges she faced, what she was always most excited for, was reaching a gym and seeing Nemona, always so conveniently one step ahead, always there ready to cheer her on, often from the very sideline of the gym's battle court, seemingly just as nervous as her.

Then she remembered the conversation in Nemona's room by the end of the school year when they promised to stay true equals and Nemona got all flustered. 

They had spent the entire summer afterwards training together and discussing tactics and teams, but also, just hanging out, they would often just end up at Nemona's beach battle court, laying out in the sand, almost passed out from exhaustion, under the late setting august sun, the orange hue would make Nemona's eyes even more golden and Juliana could just stare endlessly, sometimes, she'd even stop listening to what Nemona was saying. 

All this reminiscence was put to a halt when they heard the announcement that Miss Briar called for her, Carmine, Kieran and Drayton. That's when they got informed of the expedition to Area Zero, and while it was nice to see Miss Geeta and Rika, Juliana couldn't quite shake the empty feeling she had since her recent championship fight, so much that she even almost asked La Primera if she knew why Nemona wouldn't return her calls, but she knew better than to bother Miss Geeta with that, she also felt it was somewhat disrespectful to deviate the subject from such an important matter to her personal drama.

When they returned from the expedition to Area Zero, Kieran decided to take a break to put his emotions in order and Carmine went with him back home. This left Juliana alone with the rest of the BB Elite 4 trying to figure out how to piece the League Club back together, thankfully, the tension the league was under dissipated after Juliana was crowned champion, they even managed to do some unranked battle events so that members could learn from each other without worrying about the competition aspect. Director Cyrano even had the great idea of bringing over people from Paldea to give a few lectures and interact with the Blueberry students. Juliana loved the idea, it would be amazing seeing the people who helped shape her journey in Unova, maybe it would help it feel a bit more like home for the remainder of time she had to spend there. 

As soon as it was time for school break, Juliana hopped on a plane back to Paldea. She was excited to see her friends and discuss her brand-new project with Miss Geeta. But the trip was long, while sitting for hours on the plane with no familiar face to talk to, Juliana was forced to face the same feelings that had flooded her after her championship fight at BB Academy. 

Seeing her friends, also meant, for better and for worse, seeing Nemona. Juliana didn't quite know what to say to her, should she apologize for the misunderstanding? Should she tell her she became a champion somewhere else? Should she tell her she missed her? And what about her feelings? Up until being so long apart from Nemona, she never questioned they were some sort of best friend duo, and chucked the clear chemistry they had to the fact they were both really passionate about Pokémon battles. 

But there was something more, Pokémon battles had nothing to do with the honey-gold color of Nemona's eyes during sunset, nor they were at play when Juliana's hands would shake when greeting her rival, or how her heart would sink every time she caught as little as a glimpse of someone who looked like Nemona. Juliana's thoughts were more entangled than a Mareep's fur and she didn't really know how to make sense of them.

After many restless hours, and almost zero sleep, Juliana was jolted by the feeling of the airplane's wheels touching the ground as it landed, she had spent the last few hours listening to music trying to distract herself from the mess going on in her head, so she kind of lost track of where she was. Her stomach sank when she realized the deadline to figure out the jumbled mess in her head was approaching.

Upon exiting the airport, she decided to ride Koraidon's back, taking advantage of his newly found ability to fly. It was both refreshing and nostalgic to see Paldea up from above, all the places she'd ventured through now just seemed so tiny, she looked fondly at ever gym building, every team star base and titan's lair she could spot from up above. It truly felt like home and despite the lingering conflit in her mind, Juliana was now a bit more at peace.

It wasn't long until she reached Cabo Poco, the anxiety she felt was undeniably rising, since Nemona lives just down the street from her, she made sure to approach her home from the back ending, as to avoid a possible confrontation she was not ready for, landing Koraidon in her backyard, barely avoiding stomping her mom's vegetable garden. 

Juliana called her faithful companion back in his pokeball and went inside. As soon as she entered her home she noticed the cozy familiar smell of her mom's cooking.

"Great to have you home, Juliana, how have your studies been?" - Her mom said with a warm smile.

Juliana felt a sudden overwhelm and unable to reply just hugged her mom, fighting back the tears that were now flooding her eyes.

“¿Que pasa chiquita? Are you not enjoying your stay in Unova?" - Her mother asked in a deeply concerned voice.

Juliana pulled away, and wiped her eyes as she mustered the strength to answer her mom's question without having her voice break.

"No it's not that, I just missed you a lot."

"¡Tonta!" - her mom chuckled. - "Go take a shower, dinner is almost ready."

Juliana went up to her room to grab some comfy clean clothes and she couldn't help peeping out the window trying to make out something, anything, that might resemble Nemona's presence in the house down the street. Truth is, it was too far, she could barely make out the windows in Nemona's house, they looked like little light specs on a huge concrete block.

After her shower, Juliana was presented with an array of her favorite dishes on the table, and, while her appetite wasn't the greatest, she couldn't help but sit and enjoy her mother's effort for a warm welcoming dinner and take the opportunity to tell her about all the crazy adventures she went on during the last three months. 

The next morning, she woke up in a rush, kissed her mom goodbye and headed back to the academy, after all, she still needed to consult Miss Geeta about bringing Paldean mentors to Bluebery Academy, and she also needed to catch up with her friends. 

Quickly enough she was out the door with an half eaten breakfast sandwich in her hand, she hopped on Koaraidon's back, this time they were taking the ground route, a decision she promptly regretted when she was approaching the crossroad between Cabo Poco and Poco Path, realizing she was passing right in front of Nemona's house, she ducked on top of Koraidon... As if Koraidon could be easily mistaken by any regular old cyclizar. Thankfully there was no sign of activity in the masion, after entering Poco Path and safely out of what could be Nemona's line of sight she let out a sigh of relief, it was time now to head to the academy. It then dawned on her, if Nemona isn't at home, she must be at the academy right? 

Juliana proceeded to stall the whole trip to Naranja Academy, she stalled so much even Koraidon was growing impatient with the slow pace his trainer had imposed. Ironically enough she was stalling as much to get back as she did when it was time to leave three months prior. 

Upon arriving at the academy's front gates Juliana trembled as she dismounted Koraidon, despite it being the beginning of winter she was sweating profusely, her hands were soaked to the point she almost dropped his poke ball. She walked in and asked the receptionist if Director Clavell was at the academy, upon receiving a positive answer she rushed to his office to book a meeting with him and Miss Geeta regarding her recent project. 

As Juliana walked into the director's office, she was met with a very enthusiastic Director Clavell, clearly overjoyed to see her.

"Miss Juliana! How great to have you here! How have things been in Unova? Director Cyrano hasn't given you much trouble, has he?"

"Ahah Hi, Director Clavell! It's been great, and actually I'm here because I have a project, I'd Like to run by you and La Primera, I was thinking we could maybe schedule some time to discuss it?"

"Well, of course, I'd be much obliged to help with any project you might have in mind, may I ask what will this one entail?"

Juliana proceeded to explain the idea Director Cyrano had and how she was thinking of putting it into practice.

"Very well, it does seem interesting, I would be very happy to release a few members of our school's faculty at the time to partake in that project of yours, and I'm sure Miss Geeta will have no opposition regarding League members as well, but you do need to talk to her first, we can do that tomorrow. Well but what about your personal endeavors? Have you reached any new goals, made new friends?"

Juliana then told Director Clavell all about Carmine and Kieran and the rest of the BB Elite Four, how she became a champion and how much she actually enjoyed doing double battles more often and the hands-on approach the classes held in the terrarium had, but also just how much she missed her friends and professors, so much she actually even kind of missed Miss Rockford's weird aura.

Director Clavell agreed with a chuckle, despite being the school’s director, he had formed a closer bond with Juliana, maybe partially to blame for their combined efforts during operation Starfall, he couldn't help but look at Juliana in a more familiar way and therefore being a little less formal around her. 

"Well now, you must want to go see your friends, right? Master Arven is most likely in the cafeteria, he has been busy revamping our school’s menu along with Mr. Saguaro, and Miss Penny should be..."

"What about Nemona??" Juliana hurriedly interrupted the director who looked at her with a rather surprised look.

"I'm sorry director, I didn't mean to be rude... I just... Need to know if she's ok..."

The director looked at her with a warm, understanding gaze, he could see in Juliana's face something had been bottling inside her for long and she just couldn't hold it back any longer. 

"Well, you see, as I was going to say, Miss Penny should be at the Pokémon league, helping the cyber security department, while miss Nemona goes around checking the gyms, just like you did last semester. They should both be back tonight.”

Juliana let out a sigh that danced between relief and sadness, she thanked the director and left his office. The girl decided to follow his instructions and headed to the school’s cafeteria trying to find Arven. 

And she did find him, Arven was in the kitchen, wearing a big orange apron, looking super serious and focused preparing a few dishes, this was something Juliana just HAD to tease him about later, but, for now, she was happy just glancing at her friend while he was busy working.

It wasn’t long before Arven’s deep focus was broken by catching a glimpse of Juliana’s face in his peripheral vision. He jolted when he realized it was her, dropped the kitchen utensils and ran to hug her. He tackled her so hard they almost fell flat on the cafeteria floor, the other students looked startled at the duo while they burst into laughter in a hug that was long overdue.

“Long time no see, right hermanita?” – Arven said with a huge grin on his face while putting Juliana back down.

“Right, I missed you.” – Juliana answered with a huge smile.

“Same, we have a lot of catching up to do!!”

“Ahem” – Mr. Saguaro coughed as to get Arven’s attention.

            Arven’s excitement was quickly dulled out by Mr. Saguaro’s intrusion.

“Right, I have to go finish these new dishes we’re trying out, sit down, I’ll bring you something to eat while you wait.”

            Juliana happily obliged and sat down at the nearest table. It wasn’t long before Arven brought her a plate with some seafood and vegetables and a few shiny specs that were oddly familiar.

“We’re trying out some special dishes with Herba Mystica, try that and tell me what you think.” – Said Arven while putting down the plate in front of his friend.

            The girl picked up her fork and tried to grab a bit of everything in the same bite. As she brought the fork up to her mouth, eyes widened, it was slightly spicy but incredibly flavorful. She was speechless so she just gesticulated approvingly around the plate. It was good enough of a reaction for Arven, who happily marched back into the kitchen.

            As soon as Arven’s work was done he sat right next to her. By that time Juliana had again started to be engulfed by the sinking feeling that had haunted her for weeks now.

“¿Qué pasa? Is my food that bad?” – Arven asked looking at his friend with a seriously worried expression.

“No it’s not that… it’s just…” – Juliana started to fight back tears as she tried to put into words the absolute mess of emotions that plagued her. “It’s Nemona… I… I haven’t heard from her in a while and I miss her, and I don’t know if I miss her as a friend or something else, I have no idea what’s-” Juliana realized she had just started dumpung her huge mess of emotions onto Arven. “I’m sorry… I’m a mess.”

“Tranquila niña, you’re a mess, but you’re our mess, and you should continue talking if that helps, just maybe not here? How bout we head up to my dorm, Mabosstiff sure misses you a lot too.”

            Juliana happily agreed. When they got to Arven’s dorm, he let out Mabosstiff, whom promptly jumped up at Juliana and started licking her face.

“AHAHAHAHAHA who’s a good boy? You are, you’re the best boy.” Juliana said between giggles.

            As soon as Mabosstiff calmed down the two were able to return to their conversation.

“So… About Nemona… The girl has been a mess since you left, what happened?” Arven said in a surprisingly worried tone, Juliana never imagined he had actually grown to care so much for Nemona.

“So I left for Unova right? And I didn’t find her before leaving, I tried calling but she didn’t answer, I was trying to get a hold of her until the very last minute, but I just couldn’t, so I left her a text saying I was going to Unova and I’d call her to explain when I got there. Turns out she read the whole situation wrong, I think she understood I was moving to take on the Unova League and got REALLY upset. She hasn’t answered any calls since then… I think she hates me.” – Juliana was almost crying at this point and the desperation in her voice was palpable.

“Oh… That explains a lot…” – It was like someone flicked a switch in Arven’s head.

“Uh?! What do you mean?!” – Juliana was puzzled looking at Arven.

“Well, you see… Turns out when you left Nemona was out trying to catch Pokémon, I guess she didn’t have her phone with her as to not scare the mons away? When she came back she was fuming, she plopped down on the table where me and Penny were having lunch and just started ranting on and on about how she caught this shiny growlithe to impress you, and you just went and abandoned her, and how she felt so betrayed you moved on to bigger and better things and just left her behind, me and Penny were really confused, because we knew it was temporary so we thought she was over reacting… But she was too nervous to discuss it rationally so we just dropped it and let her go through what she had to go through, and of course offered as much support as we could, but we did avoid talking about you in her presence so I guess the misunderstanding is still well present in her mind.”

            Juliana couldn’t believe her ears, just the mere thought of making Nemona so upset felt like a sharp stab to her chest. 

“And how has she been since then?” 

“Weird…”

“What do you mean weird?”

“Like, really weird, like she’s not even Nemona, she’s always slumped over some table, doesn’t battle quite as much, sometimes she’ll accept a challenge when people accuse her of losing her spark, she’ll go, absolutely destroy whoever she’s facing and then slump back down again, it’s like she doesn’t even enjoy it anymore.”

            Juliana was overwhelmed with guilt and just buried her hands in her face.

“She did perk up a little tho, just last week, when that Pokémon League lady came talk to her.”

“You mean La Primera?”

“Yeah, I guess she gave Nemona some sort of task and that got her engines running again.”

“Yeah, Director Clavell told me she sent her to go check on the gyms, I guess that must have sounded like enough of a challenge to Nemona.”

            They both chuckled remembering Nemona’s usual highly energetic attitude, always looking for a challenge.

“But now back to you little buddy. What did you mean about not knowing if you missed Nemona as a friend or something else?” 

            Juliana really hoped Arven wouldn’t bring that slip of tongue up again, but Arven was sharp as always.

“Well…” – Juliana’s face was now hotter than a Charmander’s tail. “I guess what I mean was…”

“You don’t need to explain.”

“I don’t?”

“You’re my little budy remember?”

            Juliana nodded unsure where Arven was going with that.

“You like Nemona, I know that, I knew that before even you knew.”

“Wha- HOW?!”

“Well, remember when we went to the lab in the lighthouse? And my mom… Or, in this case my mom's stunt double, asked us, pardon, asked you to gather a team to go into the zero lab and I mentioned asking the student council girl?”

“Hum, Hum.”

“Yeah, you went all red, you looked like a pokeball, it was funny.” 

“Oh shut it!” – Juliana said, blushing.

“It’s true, and then, when we went down to area zero, I saw the looks you guys were shooting at each other, and by I, I mean we, me and Penny were making fun of you guys the whole time, but you were too busy looking like two birds in love to notice.”

            Juliana’s face was now back to that same pokeball shade of red. Arven just laughed at her.

“Look, what I mean is, you guys adore each other, and you should talk and clear up that misunderstanding.”

“Yeah… you’re right… I need to talk to her.”

“You do. But you should rest a bit first and put those ideas in order before you go and ramble nonsensical things again.”

“You’re right, I’m going to my room rest for a bit.”

“You do you bud, if you need anything, just call.”

            Juliana gave Arven a big hug and he kissed the top of her head, the two friends said goodbye and the girl went up to her dorm.

            As she was walking she kept on thinking about what she would say to Nemona, she didn’t even know if she’d want to talk to her, and, to add insult to injury, Nemona wasn’t even at school, she either had to stalk the entrance/Nemona’s dorm room waiting on her to arrive, or hope she’d run into her.

            All the what ifs started bearing too much weight on Juliana, the girl decided to go take a shower and try to clear her head. As she arrived to her room, she searched up that same playlist she was listening to on the plane, since it managed to get her some sense of peace. Whilst having her phone in her hand she had a brief moment of courage and started writing up a text.

“I miss you tesoro… I’m at school… If you wanna talk…”

            Juliana hit send before her brain could actually register what she wrote, it was better off this way, she wouldn’t have said anything otherwise. Then the girl just turned the music up, trying to drown the recent amp up of noise and anxiety in her head, and went into the shower.

            As she showered a million thoughts raced through her, she wondered if Nemona has read the text, if she would reply, if she even got the text, as far as she knew, she could very well be blocked. This seemingly unstoppable train of thought was becoming way too much. Juliana tried focused on the music playing from her phone to distract herself and the she heard it:

“Back when we were still changing for the better,

 Wanting was enough, for me it was enough,

To live for the hope of it all,

Cancel plans just in case you call,

 And say meet me behind the mall.

So much for summer love, and saying us, 

Cause you weren’t mine to lose,

You weren’t mine to lose…

And I can see us lost in a memory,

August slipped away,

Into a moment in time,

Cause it was never mine.”

            The song spoke weirdly close to Juliana’s heart, so much so she had those verses stuck on repeat from that moment onwards. 

As soon as she got out of the shower she checked her phone again, still no answer from Nemona. Juliana needed something to occupy her mind, a battle was usually her privileged form of destressing but that was out of the cards at the present moment. It was then that Juliana remembered, she had a guitar tucked away beneath her desk, she was never that great of a musician, but she used to play for fun before enrolling in Naranja Academy and going on all these crazy adventures.

            She pulled the guitar out of the bag, carefully tuned it and searched up the chords to the song that was now engraved in her brain. She started trying to strum along to the song, trying to regain some practice, it had been months since she last played anything at all.

            After a few tries the girl was already feeling comfortable enough to play and try to sing at the same time, so she started humming along with the song. Eventually she started full out singing, she felt her heart alleviate with every verse, she even forgot the dorm walls were paper thin and someone, anyone on the outside could hear everything.

            As a matter of fact someone was listening just outside her door. 

While still hurt, Nemona couldn’t resist wanting to see Juliana. When she saw her friend’s text she rushed back to the academy as fast as she could. She missed Juliana so much she even temporarily forgot the reason why she was mad, she needed to give her a hug, and possibly beat her up in battle, but give her a hug first.

When she arrived at the academy, Nemona went straight to Juliana’s room, she was just down her hall when she heard some faint strumming coming from the girl’s room. She stopped for a bit, thinking back, Juliana had never told her she played any instrument, but she did recall seeing a weirdly shaped bag under her friend’s desk.

She started walking again, slowly this time, as to not make any noise, she was intrigued and wanted to hear more of what Juliana was playing. Then as Nemona was about to reach Juliana’s door, the girl started singing…

“Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before"

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time 'Cause it was never mine”

Nemona was speechless, she knew Juliana had many talents, but she had never pegged her for a singer. She leaned against a wall to hear more closely, her friend’s voice was soft in a way Nemona couldn’t really describe. And the feeling it transpired was starting to wear on Nemona as well, she could tell those words were felt, it was some sort of catharsis. 

The girl engulfed in the song continued:

“Cause you weren't mine to lose You weren't mine to lose, no…”

…Nemo…

            Nemona froze, she realized, in some way, in some capacity, her friend meant what she was singing to her. Thinking back on what she heard her friend sing, it kind of made sense, but, if she felt that way how could she leave like that? She couldn’t take it anymore, she didn’t hear anything else coming from her friend’s room so she just stormed in.

            Juliana was now crying, with her face buried in her desk, her guitar on her lap, she was crying so hard she didn’t even notice the door open.

“Jules!” – Nemona called for her, with just about as much pain in her voice as her friend had just moments ago.

            The girl who was sobbing suddenly froze and looked up.

“Nemo?”

            Nemona walked up to her friend, took the guitar from her lap and ducked down to her level, pulled some of the hair that was covering her face behind her ear and smiled.

“You never told me you sang!!!”

“Well… ahm… it just never really came up I guess.”

            Nemona just stood there face to face with Juliana, looking her in the eyes for a moment, before she proceeded.

“You know, you owe me an explanation.”

“I know, I tried to find you before I went, I tried to call… I…. I’m so-”

“Shhhhh” – Nemona pressed a finger to her friend’s lips to silence her. “You owe me an explanation, but not now.” 

Nemona stood up and pulled her friend off her chair and into her arms. Juliana just buried her face in Nemona’s neck, as she pulled her closer and started caressing the back off her head. The two girls stood there hugging for what seemed like an eternity, truth is, neither of them wanted to let go, Juliana could hear Nemona’s breathing and Nemona could feel Juliana’s heartbeat pressed up against her chest, they were perfectly in sync, just like in many other things. 

“I was never going to leave you” – Juliana broke the silence, still holding on to the other girl.

“I couldn’t just leave you, I only accepted because it was temporary, and I even considered not going when I didn’t find you the day I went.”

“¡Cállate loca!” – Nemona exclaimed as she pulled her friend closer. “I would kill you if you didn’t go, I’m sorry, I overreacted.” 

            Juliana squeezed Nemona before letting go from the hug, but Nemona didn’t fully back away, leaving them mere inches from each other’s face. They looked into each other’s eyes for a solid minute before they both became quite flustered, trying to hide the sudden shade of red that flooded her face, Juliana hugged Nemona again and that’s when she heard Nemona, in a shaky voice that wasn’t at all usual in her.

            “Jules?”

            “Di-me tesoro.” – Juliana answered, blushing even harder while taking shelter in Nemona’s arms.

            Nemona’s grip tightened around the girl, as if she was trying to hide the fact that she was now shaking.

            “I… ahm… how do I say this…” She dragged trying to muster the courage to say it. “I… I always was… yours to lose…”

[airi-p4]

On the ice - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 ....

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Summary:

Ice girls AU

After failing a double axel in her last competition and getting injured as a result, Marinette quits ice skating and moves to her paternal grandfather's city with her mother. Seeing a blond girl performing at the local ice rink and becoming her friend, makes her start thinking about skating again. Thankfully, she'll find the help that will grant her a second chance in figure skating and to follow her dream, finding friendship, rivalry and love in the process.

AO3

_________________________________________

Chapter 1 Marinette found herself absorbed watching the blond girl on the ice. She could almost feel the thrill on her own skin as the teenager elegantly skated to the 'Swan lake' music. A well balanced performance in both technique and artistry, fluid transitions, accurate edges, moves and steps beautifully executed. Memories of her recent past- of when she was the one dancing on the ice- vivid in her mind.

The blond girl's ponytail flew as she spinned around in a layback, sit and upright spins, finishing in a difficult Denise Biellmann position before dramatically pausing for a moment- enough for her to catch her breath for the second part of the program. Marinette wondered in excitement what her next element would be and… “Wow!” she exclaimed in a low voice. A clean double axel. Amazing. Marinette silently applauded a little.

"Wow!" A man watching from the other side of the ice rink repeated with a big smile on his face. The next instant, the woman on his right turned to shush him.

"Wow!? Don't be ridiculous! Better? Yes. Wow? No way!" That said, the blond woman noticed Marinette staring and snapped her fingers. "Chloe! Chloe! Stop! Chloe, stop!" She called the skater. Marinette looked confused at the scene, until her eyes met the woman's. "You. Who are you? This is a private lesson! You're not allowed here. Go away!" She said under her sunglasses.

"Oh, I'm sorry" Marinette quietly apologized. "I didn't know…"

"Oh, my dear Audrey, she's doing nothing besides watching. I don't think-" the man started.

"Oh, shut up, André! She could be spying!" She yelled and turned to someone who was looking from a little behind them. "Philippe! Hurry up and make her leave!"

"Madam Bourgeois, there's no need for that. Class has already ended for today"

"What? This is ridiculous! This nuisance has made us waste three minutes of training!"

"Don't worry, Madam. We'll get those minutes back next practice" the man focused next on the skater. "Good job today, Chloe. You did well"

"Obviously" Chloe flipped her hair proudly as she got out of the ice rink to meet her parents.

"You're ridiculous, Philippe! This is unacceptable! I'm firing you and changing coaches as soon as I find a decent one!" Arms crossed, she lifted her chin in disgust.

"Not again, mom!" The skater groaned.

"Then you better show me the results of your training, Chloe. Show me it's worth it to keep investing in your stupid figure skating classes!"

"But dear, if she enjoys it-" André started, but Chloe interrupted him.

"Of course, mom! I won't deceive you"

"Good" the woman's sunglasses lifted just enough to look at the determination in her daughter's eyes.

After the scene, they disappeared towards the changing rooms and the man called Philippe approached Marinette.

"Hi there. I've never seen you around before. Do you skate?" He asked.

"Skated. I don't anymore..." Marinette answered, nostalgic. "I've just moved here from Paris"

"So new to the city, huh? Money or injury?" He asked, referring to what made her quit.

"Both..." she lamented, and he offered her an empathic look.

"Wouldn't you like to skate again?" Philippe asked.

"I can't," Marinette answered, sorrowful and bluntly. Her dream for competitive skating had been crushed when she failed her double axel and got severely injured during her last competition. Adding money struggles to the mix, she decided to stop and give up on her dreams for good.

"Then you shouldn't have come here" the man stated, making her snap back from her thoughts. "Skating is addictive. You'll want to get back on the ice as soon as you see it again. Your eyes were glowing at the thought while watching Chloe" The man surprised the girl. "What's your name?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Sir"

"I'm Philippe Candeloro. Former figure skater and coach. I can help you, if you want" Marinette's eyes glowed for a moment, but she looked away the next moment. "Who was your coach back in Paris?" He asked.

"Oh, it was Miss Caline Bustier, Sir," she recalled fondly.

"Oh, Miss Bustier, huh? She's nice, isn't she? Always kind but also persistent and encouraging" Candeloro smiled at her surprise.

"You know her?"

"I do,” he smiled longingly. “We skated in the same ice rink a long time ago, and we've been together in some competitions and ice shows, too. We've been friends ever since" Marinette listened with curiosity. "I bet you're really good if you were in her hands''

"No I-" she quickly denied, but Philippe continued.

"There's classes for children next Wednesday. 20€ an hour. No need to bring skates, but there's lockers if you prefer to bring yours. What do you say? Would you like to try teaching?" The coach winked, and Marinette didn't hesitate to answer.

"Ah- Yes! Thank you very much!"

"See you on Wednesday, Marinette"

Marinette left the ice palace with a bright smile on her face and giggling, but she stopped when, outside, her eyes noticed a boy around her age. His blue hair stood out too much not to notice. 'He's handsome', she thought, shyly watching him humming an unknown melody while feeding a stray cat next to the side door of the ice stadium. He didn’t seem to have noticed her. Marinette stood there, by the main gate, wondering what was the reason for his bittersweet aura.

Curious, and somewhat worried, she took a step closer. And then, another. And another. Until he finally noticed her when he heard her steps close by. Their eyes locked for a moment and she gulped at their blueness. 'They are like the sea', she thought. But before her voice could even leave her throat to say ‘hi’, his smile had already faded away, almost immediately, and his expression became cold and distant. Silently, he stood up, took the hockey stick that rested on the wall and walked inside the ice rink through the side door he closed after him.

His reaction saddened her, but she decided to stay positive and not think about it while her mind went back to skating. She continued smiling hopefully as she returned home.

[jaybarou]

i found that the ship name of radiostatic when it is onesided is radiosilence and that's incredible funny and clever!

Anyway, my prompt for a fic that I don't have time to write.

Alastor was tempted. Not by Vox's offer, but by the power it would grant him. He didn't have much in common with the other Vees and he wasn't a team kind of demon, but he could imagine a collaboration with Vox. He had some promise if he changed a few things, so Alastor was considering it. Vox was young, had some charm, and Alastor could get used to the adulation. The guy would be like putty in his arms if he could isolate him from the others.

And to evaluate exactly where he was getting into he was giving the TV a chance. Volume up and screen facing away, after all, he knew how Vox's tricks worked and he was not going to let the fawn sway him so easily.

It was a late night show. Specially focused on mocking the King and his love life. Alastor couldn't be less interested if he tried, but content was not the point.

As luck would have it, they were discussing gossip about the lack of intimate love life between the monarchs. Vel had been stalking their social media and she said it was obvious the regal couple was not fucking.

Vox had brought an "expert" from the lust ring to parrot how any healthy, meaningful relationship shuld have copious amounts of sex.

Another guest had agued that copious may not be right, but sure, sex was basic and needed, otherwise it is not love.

Vox in his moderation role had agreed wholeheartedly. Valenttino had added, in what only he thought was humor, that sex might be needed for love but he had a business that said the opposite was not true.

Then they had kept eviscerating the Morningstar marriage. If there was no sex, there was no love, and if there was no love, the only love in hell, the thing they had built their power on, was there any point to royalty?

Because surely no relationship could be solid or strong if there was no attraction or love or at least something! That was just a big sign on the door saying "overthrow me".

They all laughed....

So much for progress.

Clearly the media was modern, but the talking points had been stuck in a time Alastor was done with.

Like the middle ages.

Was this what Vox meant when he had offered Alastor to join his team? This mockery of power based on the exchange of body fluids, and the fleeting solidity of feelings? Oh but Alastor had been wrong about Vox then. So wrong. And he had been so close to saying yes.

(then alastor interrupts the program, talking like a narrator over the lot, rejecting Vox publicly, mocking their lack of taste regarding their content)

(Vox went off air before Alastor's full rant could make it out and on air, but the tv color bars in every tv in hell was a clear sign that after Alastor's voice joined the fray, Vox had lost)

(That's why when Alastor goes home there is a summons, from Lilith, to thank him for stopping the vile rumors, and to offer a deal)

(and that's how Alastor goes from almost making a bad deal to really making a much worse deal)

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

(WARNING: will contain spelling errors cuz I’m typing on my phone. For those who find that disturbing-I am one of them so this is for me too-PROCEED WITH CAUTION.)

I know it makes sense with Sun n’Moon’s personality to have Sunny be the one who can’t swear and Moon being granted the vocabulary of a sailor. But. Just. Just consider the infinitely funnier alternative.

Sunny has very very good self control over his words. After all, he’s a daycare attendant, and he’s not about to break his own rules. HOWEVER. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his moments. M’not a computer whiz, but ai don’t think staff would care enough ti put a soeech restraint on one but not the other. It’s either all or nothing. And Sunny, at least in my gathering of the fandom’s general agreement over this headcannon, is technically an adult un the mental aspect. He’s been around other adults, and he’s a big boy. Moon does naptime, he’s not really the type to swear loudly if it interrupts the poor kids’ naptime. It probably wouldn’t be in his base programming. After naptime though, he’s security. And security’s got no restraibts on foul language, really.

Forgive me if this doesn’t make sense. I just think the idea pf the daycare attendants having to wait until a certain time to verbally swear is pretty funny. They can prob do it in their headspace, but for those of us who know our colorful language, we know it’s not as satisfying to think ‘fuck.’ when you hit a table as it is to huss out ‘FfffuuuUUU’

So Yes Yes I Do think that Sunny would have to wait till naptime to mentally scream the F word after a kid spilled non-removable paint everywhere.

[omgfloofy]

Writing Meme: First Line Patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

Though I barely have ten fics.

I was tagged by @ivorydice!

Most of the energy that filled the Dandelion was on its ground floor. (A Little Doll's Big Adventure)

The plan initially started after a meeting, when Gladio made a flippant joke. (Date Night)

"Is this even legal?" (Random Questions)

The merchant had placed a small wooden box into Adol's hand. (Value of Goods and Services)

Noct's attention was pulled away from the couple of shouts and a flurry of activity that went down near the porch. (On the Job)

"Noctis! What on this gods-given-star gave you the idea that being a Hunter was the way to go?!" (A New Restart)

It was 5:00pm when Olivia arrived at the radio station. (We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Programming)

It had been five years since Noctis disappeared. (Granting Another Light)

The rules were strict on the drive out to Duscae, and even extremely blunt. (Twilight)

Noctis was bored . (Untitled & Unfinished)

Oh yeah, I can definitely see a pattern. I tend to like to set the scene right at the start. Unless there's something specifically happening. (Hi, A New Restart)

Random Questions doesn't necessarily count on all of this, since the story mechanic has all of the shorts in it starting with a randomly asked question by one of the characters. This does remind me that I need to finish it. (And there may be a sequel fic planned, too. lol)

Tagging @firefallvaruna @chasingfigments and @mementomoryo for this. <3

[turtlethebean]

Carchelle Week Day 3: Feelings

Also on AO3: Sombra Doesn't Care about You - Turtle_The_Bean - Criminal Case (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

Sombra doesn’t care about feelings.

If they did, Michelle Zuria wouldn’t be looking at a report about a missing Sombra recruit who had broken out after being experimented on. She knew about them taking over orphanages and the rumours of them purposefully orphaning children in order to recruit more kids to their cruel experiments. It always made her feel so guilty. She defended people who funded this program, so of course, she had a hand in everything that happened during them.

The guilt was eating away at her, but she knew that she couldn’t speak out against them, especially not publicly. She knew anyone who betrayed Sombra would be subjected to death sooner or later. She had turned to drinking wine and popping sleeping pills just to let herself sleep at night so the sorrow didn’t keep her awake.

She needed a better outlet, one that was healthier yet still safe.

Michelle took another sip of her wine as she opened her laptop in her apartment. Maybe she could make an anonymous post somewhere? No, Sombra could probably figure out how to trace it back to her. It wasn’t like she could vent to anyone within Sombra. Most of them still believed in their ideals despite the immoral things they were doing, especially to children. Granted, most of them were children when they joined, so it was all they knew. Besides, speaking against Sombra could spread to higher-ups and result in her death.

She took to scrolling through international news articles. The surface web never reported on Sombra's activity, so it would be nice to clear her head a bit. However, her scrolling was interrupted by a news article surrounding a Sombra recruit she recognised as the boxer Thanid Tongprid. He was found strangled by the boxing ring where he was supposed to fight a fellow recruit, Baxter Fraser.

She looked at the name of the journalist, Carmen Martinez. Curious, she started looking into this journalist, only to discover she had written various articles relating to Sombra’s recent activities. She reported on Omar Bahir’s assassination, the failed launch of the Darkness Descends project, and even an investigation that led to the shutdown of One Mother Milk. Her most recent venture was into the Sombra recruitment process and how she adopted her son from it.

Michelle admired Carmen, not just because she was admittedly very attractive but also because she was speaking out about Sombra, whether she knew about it or not.

Then she had a realisation. Maybe this journalist could be her outlet to speak out against Sombra. It was a long shot, but she had an idea.

She remembered that most recruits kept photos from the school Sombra used to run as part of their next level programme before they switched to using the hunt. She sent Carmen an email using an address that she was going to use exclusively for speaking out, tipping her off to look further into the boxer’s past. She signed her email off with the letter X, trying to hide her identity in case Sombra managed to hack into either her or Carmen’s emails. Then, she sat back and waited for a reply.

---

Michelle checked her emails the next morning to find one from Carmen. She knew that she probably should’ve eaten first, but she couldn’t wait to see what she had to say about her tip.

The journalist seemed to be thankful for the tip but still had many questions about Michelle herself as well as Sombra. She knew that it was most likely risky for the two to continue their conversation over the internet, so she offered to meet up in the real world.

Michelle felt her heart racing at the idea of meeting Carmen in real life. She would be lying if she said that she didn’t have a crush on the journalist from the moment she lay eyes on her, and talking about Sombra with her in real life would be a big step towards healing from all this guilt she had been harbouring throughout the years.

Putting her feelings aside, she gave Carmen some information to head to Singapore and meet her in her office near closing time. The journalist agreed and told her that she’d be heading there that night, meaning that she’d arrive the next morning. She had two days to prepare her evidence against Sombra, as well as consider what she would say to the other woman when she arrived.

Without a moment to lose with preparations, she shut down her laptop and hurried to work, picking up breakfast along the way.

---

Michelle’s anxiety was high as she sat in her office. Closing time was approaching, meaning that Carmen would be arriving any time soon. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was all a trap. Maybe someone from Sombra had found out about her desire to speak out and gave her a fake opportunity in order to have her killed. She hoped that wasn’t the case, as she needed to get this information out there before it ate her alive.

Suddenly, she saw the woman from Carmen’s profile page walking into her office, her curly black hair bouncing as she climbed the stairs. She watched as the woman opened the door and approached the secretary, waiting eagerly for her to arrive in her office. Once she was at the office door, she buzzed her in, and the journalist sat down across from her.

“Are you Michelle Zuria?” The curly-haired woman asked.

“Yes, you must be Miss Martinez.” Michelle could feel her heart skipping a beat as she spoke.

“You said you have information regarding-“

“Sorry to cut you off, but I was just wondering if you’ve had dinner yet?” Michelle knew it wasn’t safe for them to talk in her office, so the two had to go somewhere a bit more private.

“Yes, I had dinner with my son before I left,” Carmen explained before catching on to what the lawyer was doing, “But I won’t say no to some drinks.”

“Alright, my apartment isn’t too far from here. Let me hand my key to my secretary to close up, and then we’ll leave.”

As promised, Michelle did exactly that. Once she was done, she led Carmen out of the law firm and onto the Singaporean streets. The two walked around for a little bit before eventually reaching Michelle’s apartment.

“Apologies about this, Miss Martinez, but unfortunately, I can’t risk Sombra catching us talking about them.” She apologised, grabbing a small meal that she had prepared earlier that week and throwing it in the microwave to heat up.

“It’s no problem, really. With the things I’ve seen them do, I can’t imagine what would happen to you if they caught you talking about them behind their backs.” Carmen took her brown leather jacket off and sat on Michelle’s couch, notebook and pen in hand, to take notes on whatever would be revealed.

Michelle felt her heart racing when she realised that Carmen was concerned for her safety even though the two had literally just met. The heat from her body filled her cheeks as they reddened. It had been so long since she joined Sombra she had almost forgotten how it felt to have someone genuinely care for her.

The microwave beeped, and she snapped out of her daydream. She took her meal from the microwave and set it on the table. She then got two glasses and filled them with wine, setting them down on the table.

“So, what can you tell me about Sombra?” Carmen questioned, sitting opposite of Michelle at the dining room table.

“Oh, yes, Sombra. Well, I read your article on the hunt in Japan, but have you wondered what they do to those kids after the hunt?” Michelle had gotten so caught up in her crush that she almost forgot that the journalist was there to talk about Sombra.

“I have, actually, but my son is a bit too shaken from the whole ordeal to tell me much more. Do you have any information on that?”

“Yes, they take them into a programme that we call The Next Level. It involves genetic enhancement of any orphans that successfully complete the hunt.”

“Genetic enhancement? Do you mean they’re experimenting on children?”

“Yes,” Michelle felt a lump forming in her throat, “I needed to inform you of this, not just so you can better understand what your son went through, but also because the guilt of knowing all this has been weighing on me.”

“I understand how you must feel about all of this.” Carmen put her hand on Michelle’s.

“I just…I can’t believe I have to defend the people who fund this. It’s making me sicker every time I think about it. But Sombra doesn’t care about our feelings. We need to contribute, or we’re seen as weak, and we die. I don’t know how much longer I can continue contributing to this cause because every case I defend makes a little part of me die inside, and I’m scared that I might die inside before I die on the outside.”

Carmen squeezed Michelle's hand, making the lawyer realise that she had been rambling. She figured she probably didn’t care about her feelings, just like Sombra, but when she looked into her eyes, she could see something that she hadn’t seen in years – genuine compassion and empathy. So many people that she met over the past few years had been so atrociously heartless that it made her forget about the good in this world.

“Michelle, how about you work for people who actually care about your feelings?” Carmen asked.

“W-what do you mean?” Michelle felt her heart skip yet another beat.

“There have been times where I’ve been so confused by Sombra, but maybe having an insider working with me might be helpful.”

The lawyer’s eyes lit up. Joining Carmen’s team? Not only would she be working with someone she admired, but she’d more than likely be working to bring Sombra down. What more could she ask for?

“Yes, I’d love to work for you.”

Carmen smiled, “Well then, shall we drink to our new partnership?”

“I’ll drink to that.”

[pipelinelaserraygun]

Bravery disrupted the "best laid plans of mice and men."

--joey issued a veiled threat.

MUST ⏰ sound 🚨 ALARM.

👺👺 demonic operatives have been planning your ⚰️ demise, FROM the moment you dedicated your life to Jesus Christ.

Initiate CHANGE of plans.

God's 🌈 overarching plans CANNOT be reinvented, no matter how 👿 evil tries, to.

Many are uneducated, as to what the overarching plans from Heaven are. Think BIG.

Persons without navigation 🧭✝️ of Christianity are 🤔 stumped, when trying to decode where ALL of ⬆️ THIS is headed: interruption of services right before the next 🇺🇸 Presidential election.

Be assured/reassured: 🫵🏽🫂 However THIS 🔚 plays out, the 🕎 Father of the Bride has HIS 👁️👁️ eyes on us, looking out for our well-being 24/7.

👑👰🏻 Christ's Bridal Party 🎉 participates in her 💍OWN wedding plans.

📚 "Of mice and men"...

demo-🐀🐀 RATS' plans: 🎯 ALL profit$ take a back seat to 👿 satanic programming.

🕷️ predictive programming from evil 👺 people DOESN'T have to be YOUR destiny. (Get a 🆓 poster, during the opening week).

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[jacky-rubou]

This has nothing to do with Gravity Falls and I'm sorry in advance to my followers for that, but I recently watched Star Wars the original trilogy with my brother over the last few days and I can't help but notice how autistic coded C-3PO is. And before anyone says "Oh, but C-3PO can't be autistic coded, he's a droid, not a human!", he's a fully sentient being in his own right, with his own quirks and mannerisms and saying otherwise only mirrors the anti-droid sentiments we see throughout the series that have been time and time again shown to be incorrect and discriminatory. Anyway.... Here is my essay on some explicitly autistic traits C-3PO possesses.

He has trouble reading social cues, often not realizing when he should just keep quiet (the whole "Never tell me the odds!" from Han was because C-3PO was constantly updating them on the odds and making everyone nervous) or when he's interrupting something private and should be a bit more courteous (walking in on Han and Leia and being genuinely clueless about why they got upset at him). It's a bit odd that a protocol droid made for human-cyborg relations would be so confused in social situations, don't you think?

C-3PO has a propensity for info-dumping, especially about his role as translator for humans. He, often with some energy, wants to tell everyone about said role and how many languages he speaks every time he's introducing himself. Almost like an encyclopedia. His special interest is in translating alien languages and he's quick to let everyone know about it.

C-3PO struggles when it comes to breaking rules, often reminding others that 'it's against my programming' to do something deviant. Like on the forest moon of Endor when Han, Luke and Chewie were held captive by the Ewoks, he was reluctant to act as deity to the teddy bears. He's a very rule abiding droid, often needing a push in order to break them or simply refusing to at all.

Another, slightly unheard of, autistic trait C-3PO has is elopement, wandering off without telling anyone where he's going and where he's not supposed to go. A big moment where he did this, without even following R2-D2 like he normally does, is in Cloud City, where he split up from the main group and entered a random door.

Sort of minor trait, but he also states the obvious and takes things literally.

One big thing that ties everything together is how everyone around C-3PO reacts to him. He's often told to shut up when he begins his introduction, barely even making it past how many languages he can speak before he's shut down (both literally and figuratively). People are visibly annoyed by him and ignore him, only to turn to him to use his special interest (translating alien languages for communication) for their own purposes and taking it for granted, leading to him feeling worthless sometimes. He often has to be very persistent if he wants someone to hear what he has to say, especially if it's Han he's trying to talk to. He's the butt of many jokes and hurtful comments too, which wouldn't mean much on its own, but the fact that he possesses so many autistic traits alongside it makes one wonder...

Anyway, I relate to C-3PO, especially after recognizing the very real autistic traits he possesses in just the original trilogy. I'm sure there are more that I didn't mention in the prequels/clone wars. C-3PO is autistic coded and there's nothing anyone could say that would change my mind.

[dreamkidddream]

MC Doing the Peeling Glue Skin Prank on the Bros (Lucifer, Mammon, and Leviathan)

Hoorayyy my first post! I don’t know if any of you have seen the tiktok where they rub glue to look like their skin is peeling off but it’s both funny and horrifying. Also, this got a lot longer and fluffier/sappier than what I thought, but I’m not complaining. This will be done in headcannon format, and I think I’m going to split it up into 2 parts (Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi in the first part and the rest in the second) and I hope you enjoy! Also slight spoiler for lesson 16 (but it’s a blink and you miss it kind of thing in Mammon’s). Reader is gender neutral.

The Build Up:

Ever since you came back to the Devildom after the exchange program, things have been great! It was obvious that you were missing the demon lords, and even more obvious that they were missing you too. Things weren’t different, not at all. But the one day that you were bored out of your mind and they all had different things to handle, you turned to the one thing that could cure your boredom: the Devildom’s version of TikTok. Oh how the boys will forever regret showing you that app, as it had let to their current downfall... 

Lucifer

So unfortunately this man is ALWAYS busy

It doesn’t matter what time of day or night it is, he’s always filling out paperwork. Whether it’s for Diavolo, credit card bills that Mammon racked up, Asmo’s impromptu fashion trips, Beel’s black hole of a stomach, etc.

And he doesn’t like to be disturbed at all unless it’s an emergency

So when you burst into his office out of nowhere, he was slightly irritated (but not that angry, since it was you and your presence was hardly a nuisance)

But that quickly changed whenever he heard you moaning his name in pain and looked up to see what looked like your flesh flaking off by the second

His eyes widen and he is instantly panicking. He’s trying to keep it on the inside but you start to “panic” which makes him shoot out of his seat

Instantly is by your side, trying to delicately hold you and also trying to figure out what the hell is going on

“MC! Are you in pain? What happened? Did someone put a curse on you?!”

Now, you weren’t putting on a Oscar worthy performance but you think you were selling it pretty good. And everything was working out until he grabbed your arm and inspected it closer that he realized he got played

First, he realized that your flesh wasn’t falling in chunks on the ground. Then, he realized that these flakes were awfully thin, and that parts of your arm felt sticky

He fully realized that he got pranked when he peeled off your “skin” off your neck and you giggled, then covered your mouth to realized that your cover was blown

Needless to say, he was not a happy demon

And you basically just signed your death warrant

Before you could even think about running, he grabbed you again and “asked” that you have a seat

Cue another long Lucifer lecture, with him explaining how this wasn’t a funny prank (even for human standards) and that you need to understand how serious this is

Which is his way of saying that he cares about you and was actually panicked and scared. You knew his pride made it hard for him to openly express himself. And while he is getting better slowly but surely, it’s still hard for him to do so. Which made you feel guilty, so you did genuinely apologized

“You’re right, Lucifer, I’m sorry. This wasn’t my greatest idea, as you can see. I didn’t realize how severely this affected you, and it wasn’t right for me to take advantage of that. I know how hard it is to express how you feel because of your pride, but I know how much you care for me even without saying it. It shows in how hard you work, and how you still manage to be there for everyone despite how stress you are. I shouldn’t be adding on to that stress, and I really am sorry for that. You really are a good person, Lucifer, and even though you can be very strict- wait! Let me finish,- you mean well because you care for us. And you don’t get enough credit for that. So, thank you for all that you do. I love you, truly and deeply.”

Despite being a little skeptical in the beginning (he thought you were trying to get out of a punishment, ha! Good luck with that) and ending with a flustered look that he tried to cover with his hand (which was obviously too late to do, you already saw), he did appreciate and accepted the apology.

“I love you too, MC. Truly and deeply.”

So that was your cue to get your hug (and maybe a little kiss) and he pushed you away! You were offended for a second, but you saw the disgusted look on your face and forgot that you were covered in dried glue. Oh yeahhhh...ew

So while you were back in his good graces, you still got punished. A 15 page essay on why doing horrific pranks like that on your loved ones is harmful and no HellTok for your remaining stay?! You know you deserve some type of consequence but geez, overkill much?!

But, he did hint to you that you could make him feel better by spending the night with him in bed

After you take a much needed shower of course

Mammon

As much as this tsundere tried to say he was “too busy” for you, we all know that’s a lie

Granted when you went to go bother him, he was busy

Busy with planning out new scams counting out whatever Grimm he had left, what items to sell and for what price: “maybe I could sell Levi’s golden Ruri-Chan vendor ring thing for some Grimm? He’ll flip but if I just “borrow” it for a little bit, he won’t know what hit ‘im!”

Seeing how focused he was, it was your time to shine

“M-Mamooon! Help me! Something’s w-wrong!”

That immediately got his attention

His head shot up and he rushed to you, panic clearing showing on his face and in his movements

“MC! What’s going on?! WHAT IS THIS!”

When you could physically see him shaking, sweating and on the brink of tears, you knew that it was time to stop while you were ahead

“Mammon wait-“

“We need to go to Lucifer NOW.”

And when he went to pick you up gently, and saw with his own two eyes the flakes slowly fall to the ground, was when hell broke loose

You have never heard him scream so loud before, and you were pretty sure everyone both in and out the house heard him

He lifted you up and you were pretty sure he was in his demon form when you both ran and/or flew (you couldn’t tell, that’s how fast you were moving) to Lucifer’s

Sometimes it was so easy to forget that you lived with actual demons, 7 of the strongest to be exact

When you both reached your destination (ie. barged into Lucifer’s room unprovoked) he was not pleased, but Mammon did not care.

You were one of (if not) the most important person in his life and he would be damned if anything happened to you again. He was your first man, your protector! And he was not going to fail. Not again. He would and will protect you with his life. At any costs

When you saw how serious he was , you tried to wiggle out of his arms, but all he did was just tighten up and say, “MC, quit squirmin’! I don’t want you to make this worse.”

“No, Mammon wait-“

“We’re going to fix this. I’m going to fix this and I’m not lettin’ anything happen to you again. Now stop moving! Lucifer, somethin’s wrong with MC! Look at how their skin is-“

“ITS A PRANK!”

It’s just a prank bro

“Wh-what?”

“I’ve been trying to tell you, I’m sorry!”

While you were explaining the whole process (with Lucifer staring on in building irritation), you were still in his arms

You already felt like a terrible being, but the guilt was steady skyrocketing when you were looking at his face

He looked like a kicked puppy left in the rain with a broken paw

You just kept apologizing over and over, until you heard a certain someone clear their throat.

“If you two are done interrupting me, I would like to get back to work. MC, stay behind, it seems like we need to have a little chat about your so called prank.”

Mammon put you down and walked out the room, head hanging and eyes covered.

You knew you screwed up big time. Forget about the incoming lecture, you felt absolutely terrible about pranking Mammon. Especially after hearing the “again” comment.

Once you finally got released (ie. punished), you all had dinner, which Mammon skipped out on

Geez, this was not suppose to happen and you needed to make it up to him ASAP

So here you were, standing outside his door (after you cleaned up) with two Hell Fire noodle cups, knocking timidly

“Hey, Mammon? Is it okay if I come in?”

Silence

“You weren’t down for dinner and I know that you’re hungry, so I brought us-you some noodles.”

Again, silence

You sighed, you knew you messed up big time and you were going to fix it, no matter what. 

“I’m sorry, Mammon. I’m so sorry. What started out as a joke turned into something serious, and it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have did that. Hurting you was never my intention, I care about you too much to do that. When I heard you say that you weren’t going to let anything happen to me again, I knew that I messed up. I know that you will always protect me, and I don’t have any doubt that you won’t. You’re my first man, remember? I know that you’ll always have my back, and I hope you know that I’ll always have yours too. You’re not just the Avatar of Greed to me Mammon, you’re my first guy that I’ll love forever. I won’t ever mess with you like this again, and if you don’t want to talk now that’s fine too, just know that I’ll always love and care for you, okay?”

Ughh and now you were crying!

You sighed. You understood if he didn’t want to talk to you. I mean, he thought you were dying again. It’s easy to forget the events that happened with Belphie, since everyone is communicating and acting like a real family, but you can see now that it left a deep emotional wound in Mammon. He believed that it was his fault that you weren’t saved, and he still carried the burden all this time.

You put the cup down outside the door and started to head back to your room. You would give him as much time as he needed. You just hate that you made him feel this way, that you rose those feelings out of him. And you hated yourself for it.

You barely stepped a foot away from the door when he saw it swing out and a big blob tackle-hugged you

Here was Mammon, sniffling and tearing up, hugging you

“*sniff* You stupid human.”

When he pulled away, you saw the tears in his eyes, which he tried to rub away before you could notice (sidenote: you already noticed)

“Ya-Ya really love me?”

“Of course, Mammon! How could I not? You stayed by my side through thick and thin, through everything. You protected me, and I will forever be grateful for that. I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re not a selfish scum bag like everyone tries to make you out to be, Mammon, and I won’t let you believe that you are. You are my first man, the man that has constantly looked out for me, that has supported and cared for me, and most of all that has never failed to show how much love you have to give. I love you Mammon, always.”

Cue the blushing and cheeky grin

“Now come on the Great Mammon, our noodles are getting cold.”

It felt great to see that smile back on his face

And it felt even better to hear him say, “I love ya too, MC”

Leviathan

Levi was in his room, nothing new

He told you he had some sort of campaign that he absolutely could not afford to miss. Which he said about the other campaigns too but whatever

So when you knocked into his room, and he didn’t ask for the secret phrase, you knew he was in too deep to even pay attention to his surroundings

And the door was UNLOCKED

So you went in, ready to give him the scare of the decade, and-

He turned around in his gaming chair, raging and in his demon form

“UGH! How was that normie of a demon able to kill me with that move?! He has to be cheating! How is it that I’m one of the best players in the entire Devildom and I’m one of the first dead?! It’s not fair! It’s not fair, it’s not fair IT’S NOT FAI- huh? MC, why are you covered in *squints* dried up glue?”

You were honestly shook

Because 1: the third strongest brother was obviously furious and in his demon form which is not a good combination (your mind flashing back to the TSL quiz and whew was that not the best memory) and 2: how the hell was he able to know that this was glue?!

Okay, you weren’t scared of Levi, not at all! But you, just like everyone else, knew how serious he took his gaming

And you all knew how he could be when he was raging about it too

Not saying that he would ever harm or attack you, oh no. What happened at the beginning was just a...fluke! Yeah, just a little hiccup in your now longstanding relationship

But you were still just a tad bit hesitant to be caught in the crossfire of his rage

Really everyone was (except maybe Beel, but even he had his moments)

“LOL you look like one of the rotten magical zombie students from the anime “OMG I’m Just A Magical Girl in Training and Somehow I Turned the Whole School Into Zombies and Have to Fall in Love with a Demon to Reverse It!””

Okay, this was not the reaction you were looking for

“What the- but how-?

Then you remembered

Levi is a renowned cosplayer, the best in the game. It was obvious he knew what the dried up glue looked like considering how much he’s worked with it

You were of course disappointed, but oh well, you could always scheme to get him another way

And then it happened. Another devious idea popped into your head

“So you said I looked like a rotten zombie student huh?”

“Rotten magical zombie student . LOL don’t tell me that you don’t think you do- W-what are you doing MC?”

“Ughhh I’m a rotten magical school girl, and I’m not just hungry for brains, I’m hungry for love.”

“L-love?”

“Gughhh that’s right and only kisses can satiate my hunger. Demon kisses.”

Oh boy 

The way that you turned red so quick was always a surprising sight for you to see

“M-MC WAIT-”

“I want my kisses, Levi!”, you said it in your best zombie/monster voice

Cue his famous “WOOAHHHH”

“MC WAIT- YOU’RE COVERED IN GROSS DRIED GLUE OMG” 

The campaign was quickly forgotten when you tackled him to the ground, glue and all

Then you remembered how sensitive he was with physical contact, and tried to get up

“Oh Levi, I’m sorry! I forgot you don’t li-”

Something was still holding you against him

Specifically, that something was his tail

His tail was currently wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly against the red-faced otaku

“Levi, you okay?”

“Y-y-yeah, I’m okay.” he said it in the tiniest voice you have ever heard.

“Do you want me to get-”

“NO! I-I mean yes! I mean no! N-no I don’t want you to get up. I’m okay.”

Today was just surprising you left and right huh?

But you weren’t complaining now

“But now we’re covered in nasty, peely glue. And what about your campaign?”

He looked at the screen, and then back at you

“It’s okay. It’s not worth it like I thought it was. It’s just a bunch of normies who either button mash or spam the same attack over and over. And I already got majority of the rewards anyway. Besides, now that another normie has me covered in icky cheap glue, I need to get it off.”

Whoops

“Sorry about that, Levi. I was just trying to prank you but looks like that failed. I could do your laundry for you since it was my bad. Is that okay?”

“O-or you could m-make it up to me by having by binge watching some anime? If you want, even though I’m a nasty, icky, worthless ot-”

“Levi. Look at me.”

You gently grabbed and held his face in your hands

“You’re not worthless or nasty okay? And I love to spend time with you. We can definitely have an anime marathon. I’ll always be by your side, I wouldn’t be your Henry if I wasn’t.”

“R-really?”, the way his eyes light up every time you praise or show him love will never get old

“Of course. But I do have to say that you are icky.”

“WHAT”

“But we both are. I mean I did kinda cover you in the flaky glue, and it’s starting to feel a little gross to be honest.”

“O-oh yeah. I-it’s your fault normie!”

“Yeah, yeah I know.”, you laughed. 

Atleast you somewhat pranked him

“So let’s get cleaned up, and I can bring some more snacks when I’m done. You wanna do the pillow fort like usual?”

“O-of course, normie!”

“Alright. I’ll see you in a few then!”, and you began walking out the room

He watched your trailing form, and honestly he didn’t want you to leave yet. That was apparent when his tail wrapped itself around you. I mean, how embarrassing was that?! But he couldn’t help it.

Levi cares about you immensely. You’re his best friend, his Henry! He didn’t know what you saw in someone like him, I mean damn, he was the Avatar of Envy! What’s attractive about someone being jealous 24/7?

He wasn’t outgoing like Asmo or Mammon, didn’t have the confidence like Lucifer or Satan, and he wasn’t good at building bonds like the twins (or at least like Beel)

What a human like you saw in him was still mind boggling, and he thought you were just tolerating him, just being nice. But, he saw how genuine you were as time went on. He saw you as someone special to him, you were his favorite real living person, his best friend, and honestly he wanted you to become more-

“Oh, Levi, one more thing.”

You quickly ran up to him and kissed him on the cheek

“I finally got my demon kiss, ughhh. My hunger has been satisfied!”

And ran right back out 

He blushed 100x more now, and he realized that maybe he wasn’t ready to take it to the next step just yet, but he was willing to be patient and work towards it

He was willing to make the effort because you’re worth it

[oogaboogasphincter]

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break. 

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting​ and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic​. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian​

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?” 

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being. 

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.” 

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.” 

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies. 

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.” 

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you. 

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study. 

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced. 

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left. 

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts. 

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt. 

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out. 

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.” 

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester. 

💘taglist: @pascalpanic​, @mellowswriting​

[otp-holic]

Will this be the night? (ALSO IN A03)

A random piece of online advertising unleashes some movie memories of a Summer afternoon in 1932

1.5 Ks Fanfic + Pictures Inside. Part of the Never let us lose what we have gained series (AO3) Silly drabble born from my love of classic movies... that ended up not having anything to do with classic movies.

BROOKLYN'S KING'S THEATRE

Poster for Cary Grant's Retrospective. Printed paper 2025.

A poster for the upcoming month long celebration of the movies of Cary Grant to be held in Brooklyn.

Bucky is not expecting a vivid memory of the past to jump at him from a piece of online location-targeted promotion popping on his phone as he and Steve are wandering around the neighborhood on a random Friday.

But the 21st century works in mysterious ways and Google is kindly inviting him to check “Cary Grant: A Celebration”, a month-long chronological retrospective of all his movies taking place at a nearby hipster cinema starting… in half an hour.

He beams as a long string of memories of the both of them in different afternoons and movies plays in his head; how they counted the cents for the admission price, and how Bucky learned to sneak into the movie every time that did not add up to two full tickets.

“Buck, you’ve been smiling at your phone in silence for a whole minute,” Steve interrupts his daydreaming. “Should I be jealous? Worried?”

“Sorry,” he answers, still smiling about the memories. “I think I’m leaving you for Google, they see inside my one hundred years old soul; But I might give you another chance if you don’t mind a change of plans for the afternoon.”

“Lead the way, but can you give me some heads up?” Steve chuckles, more than used to Bucky’s ways.

He takes Steve’s hand to direct them towards the movie theatre and thinks about how much information he wants to share.

Although he is the one who still relies on the comfort of 30s and 40s movies whereas Steve keeps getting bolder with his options, Steve has always loved Cary Grant and Bucky thinks he’s going to appreciate his choice since this particular movie has a history (sad history, maybe) for them, so he debates on whether to tell him or not.

“We are going to the movies. But the real ones, not that shit on Netflix you keep choosing,” he settles for half-disclosure.

“Damn, mister life in black and white strikes again. Embrace the 21st century, Barnes, I think you’ll like it!”, Steve laughs.

“Hey, I embrace it more than you do! At least I look the part of a mid-thirties man from it instead of a fifty-year-old hiding in fucking khakis. Albeit a very hot one, I’ll give you that.”

They both laugh. It’s not the first time these remarks fly between them and having a routine, running jokes, and running pet peeves is very soothing after everything they have gone through.

They’re getting closer to the cinema now, and Bucky can already see the Billboard announcing the retrospective and a small queue forming upfront. He takes a side look at Steve to see if he has noticed and he can certainly tell that his curiosity has peaked.

“Surprise! Call it a win-win, it might be up my alley, but you used to love Cary Grant movies,” Bucky smiles as they reach their place in the queue and glance at the program for the afternoon.

‘This is the Night (1932)’, the poster says, ‘Cary Grant's feature film debut on the big screen’

Bucky is deep in nostalgia, remembering a summer day of 32 when they were waiting in line for the same film and how the evening turned out, but when he looks in search of his partner’s reaction, it’s not what he expected at all.

“Steve, you ok?” he asks, worried at seeing Steve frozen in place.

Steve nods. His whole face is deep red, but at least he is responsive. He looks ashamed and Bucky is shifting from worried to curious.

“Jesus, this movie,…” he chuckles now.

“You seem to remember, then. I thought you might.”

It was not a happy memory: Steve had felt really ill halfway through, looking white as a sheet of paper and about to die on Bucky. They had to leave the unfinished movie and run home, as per Steve’s request. But as far as Bucky remembers, nothing to be ashamed of.

“Why are you acting weird? Oh my god, Steven, are you allergic to this movie?”

The silence before Steve answers is a little too long and the queue moves forward.

“Shit, this is not easy to say and I’m sorry in advance.”

“Duly noted, but could you try to explain? I’m lost and I didn’t expect a full-on confession of something to be sorry about when I decided to follow Google’s intelligent advice to an unfinished movie. I just thought it was a good excuse for a change of plans. And kind of closure.”

Steve takes a breath and starts talking.

“I wasn’t honest with you, Buck. Back then…” he stops, searching for words, nervously musing on his beard. “Ah, I cannot believe this hasn’t come up at some point, but there it goes. I absolutely lied to you that day: I wasn’t sick or half dying and I am very very guilty of using my poor health to run away from that place and that movie, but I did the only thingI could think of.”

Bucky is at a loss for words, he’s still deciding if he is angry, curious, or somewhere in between.

“But… but you were feverish and white as a ghost and you said you had palpitations!”

Steve seems to think for a moment again and the bastard laughs so loud they get a curious look from the people behind. And taking advantage of the queue moving up again, he gets really really close to Bucky who honestly thinks he’s going to try to kiss himself out of the situation since it’s a bulletproof strategy.

But he doesn’t: He goes for Bucky’s ear instead, and whispers.

“I had a boner like you wouldn’t believe.”

Bucky gasps loudly totally taken aback while Steve takes a step back and looks at him in the eye more amused and hungry than ashamed, but still blushing.

“But hey, not all lies! I was somehow sick. And pale since my blood was… otherwise occupied. And I was barely 14!”

Bucky laughs at the dork. His dork. But the information is still making its way into his brain.

“Oh my God,” he exclaims as it starts to settle, “You piece of shit, you pulled the poor sick child card when you were just plain horny. I was worried to my bones as we run to your home. Shame on you Rogers!”

“Me? It was your fucking fault! Yours and Cary Grant’s and your stupid grins and stupid chins, those clefts!” he’s screaming in whispers so Steve Rogers’ teenage boner doesn’t make it to the news, but he’s talking as if he was pronouncing an important speech to the UN, “What was a 14-year-old in the fucking 30s popping one upon seeing an actor who kind of looked like a very tall version of his very male best friend to do?”

He is about to say something, but Steve literally covers his mouth with one hand giving Bucky no other option but to stick his tongue and lick the palm.

“Gross, Buck. I’m not done!”, he dries his hand on Buckys’ shirt before he goes on. “I’m not done because as I was still processing all that, you kept brushing your goddamned hand with mine when you went for popcorn! Over and over and over. It was torture. I have palpitations now just thinking about it.”

Bucky full-on laughs. One of those real ones that come more and more lately and that he honestly thought he would never get to experience again.

They have reached the box office, so he doesn’t push it further. For now.

“Two tickets for `This is the Night´, please.” Bucky smiles at the box-office guy. “He is paying, tho. I paid last time we tried to see this one and he didn’t have the decency to stay until the end.”

He actually feels like a teen as Steve takes his hand into the theatre, as he very intentionally buys popcorn to share, and as they start full-on making out on their seats during the commercials once the lights are out.

“Wanna know another secret, Buck?” Steve whispers a few minutes later, eyes on the starting movie as he brushes Bucky’s hand with intention over the popcorn bucket. His flustered face and recently kissed lips bathed by dancing lights and shadows coming from the screen. “It’s a good thing we were already together in ‘38 when “Bringing up baby” came out because I was able to plan ahead and lure you into that memorable window fuck at our old apartment before the show, or we would have totally missed one of our favorite movies, too.”

Bucky hates Steve with the force of the universe. Or maybe not, but he’s not playing clean.

“Raincheck on the movie?” he manages to whisper back as he drives Steve’s hand to his already noticeable hard-on. Two can play this game.

“Oh, poor Buck. Do you have palpitations” Steve chuckles, lips wet on Bucky’s ear and gripping harder on his bulge instead of letting go. “Was that the memory of the window fuck? Or all the making out? Tell me so I don’t do it again.”

“You are a punk, Steve Rogers,” Bucky answers before standing up to leave, closely followed by a smiling Steve.

Argh, sorry for deleting and uploading again, but i had technical issues with this.... so here it goes again. I need to free myself from this one!

[russadler]

Work Hard, Play Harder - Prologue

Russell Adler x Female OC

The mission sounds simple enough, but the devil was definitely in the details.

A/N: This is something completely new and separate from ‘A Little Death’ and NOT a Russell Adler x Bell. After coming to terms with the issues with that pairing, it was difficult to continue that fic even though I loved it as much as I did. It was devastating to do so, but I’m hoping to create something completely new and fun. I guess this is sort of similar to ‘A Little Death’ in a way but completely different at the same time. This is just the prologue, setting the scene for the fic, but let me know what you guys think <3

June 7, 1982

Langley, Virginia

She’s not entirely sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this. 

Her day starts out simple enough. Write memos, respond to emails, read and scribble in the growing stack of files on her desk. Then her department lead tells her Jason Hudson needs to see her and from then on things get very interesting, very fast. 

The brunette makes her way to the briefing room with haste, lithe legs carrying her at the fastest pace considered appropriate in Langley’s corridors. Everyone knew Jason Hudson to be a notorious hardass, but he was a decorated one. A long list of achievements had ensured he sat at the echelon of the clandestine operations unit. 

Now he wanted her. Getting called on by Mr. Shades himself was the lifelong dream of the many that worked at Langley, but now that it’s happening the woman can’t deny the sense of apprehension at the prospect. She had worked minor roles under the direction of other handlers in a few of the smaller ops he’s overseen over the years, but felt she had done nothing then to warrant his attention whatsoever. 

There’s little time to ponder, and before long the briefing room door she’d been directed to enters her field of vision. Shoulders squared and breathing deeply through her nose, knuckles meet the worn wood in delicate but firm raps. A deep voice beckons her forth, and she enters. 

Hudson stands at the far end of the table, one hand in his pocket and the other sifting through a stack of papers currently occupying the surface in front of him. 

“Agent Fletcher.” He greets flatly, not even sparing her a glance as he focuses his gaze on the aforementioned sheets of paper.

“Sir.” She returns, thankful that she’s managed to keep the nervous tremble from her voice and replace it with something pleasant and airy instead. Taking a seat, her delicate hands flatten her pressed slacks as she moves. Her selected chair is close, but maintains a respectable enough distance from her superior.  

“Are you familiar with the name Anthony Lipovetsky, agent?” Hudson cuts to the chase, starting as soon as she’s settled. His cold stare shifts to acknowledge her presence, and a chill comes over her as she stares into those signature reflective shades.

They both knew the answer to his question. Aria Fletcher worked mainly in the drug and contraband trafficking sector of the CIA. 

Of course she knew who he was. 

Anthony Lipovetsky had steadily become a pain in the DEA’s ass recently, according to what she had been hearing. Though he wasn’t anyone particularly prolific that warranted the CIA’s attention like some others had. Out of the many individuals Hudson could have pulled her here to ask about, the Russian - American was the least expected.

“Drug trafficker making some big moves along the east coast, but he’s not the biggest fish in the pond.” Aria answers, sounding matter of fact as she stares back at the other. It’s more of a question of a statement. Why him? 

“You’re right. He isn’t, but it’s recently come to our attention that he’s been dabbling into arms smuggling.” Hudson counters, but it still isn’t the answer she’s looking for. 

“Unsurprising. He’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last.” The younger states, but there’s more to this and she knows it. She takes a gamble and makes an educated guess. “Would I be correct in guessing we’re here right now because of his choice in clientele?” 

The female agent can only hope Hudson doesn’t think she’s trying to be a smartass, but all she can do is speculate. It’s the only reasonable assumption that comes to mind seeing as the The CIA doesn’t like it very much when people sell guns to the bad guys, and they especially don’t like it if they’re the type of bad guys who like terrorism. 

“Precisely.” Hudson answers, and the agent has to fight the urge to smile. Right on the ball.

“We have solid intel that he’s been in contact with a soviet agent named Perseus.” The elder continues even seriously, voice grim as he makes the acknowledgment.

Oh. Oh. 

The name Perseus wasn’t one she was familiar with, but the words Soviet Agent had stood out. This was bigger than the domestic drug trade, this was the Soviet Union making way into their backyard. 

This is bad. Very, very bad. 

“So, what’s the plan?” The young woman queries, a touch hesitant at what role she has to play in something that now seems entirely out of her league. 

Hudson’s mouth parts, but a knock at the door interrupts. Her head snaps towards the door as Hudson grants entrance, and in walks Russell Adler. 

Langley legend, ‘America’s Monster’ The man’s in a different league even when compared to a heavyweight like Hudson. He’s pretty much a myth. She’s heard the stories about him, both personal and professional. His portfolio of work is way above her pay grade, and his presence immediately makes the entire thing immensely more interesting. 

She rode an elevator with him once, almost a year back. The encounter was barely a minute long, but she never forgot how devastatingly attractive the man was, with looks that easily could have landed him in Hollywood. Not to mention the way the man carried himself, assertive and with an undeniable dominance. 

Adler doesn’t introduce himself, and doesn’t even spare her a glance nor a word as he takes the seat adjacent to Hudson. His shaded eyes are focused straight ahead as he pulls a cigarette from the pack he seemingly carried in, perching the stick between his lips and igniting it with a zippo lighter that had appeared from God knows where. 

Aria hadn’t realized she had been staring until Hudson tosses something at her from his place at the table, the sound jolting her back to attention. A manila folder glides quietly across the stained wood to land neatly in front of her, only two words on the front.

Operation Ocelot. 

“Let’s get started.” Hudson announces. She opens the file, and things begin to unravel. 

——————————————————————

As it turns out, Operation Ocelot consists of a covert insertion of two agents into Anthony Lipovetsky’s Miami home. That part sounds simple enough, but the devil is definitely in the details.

For the time being, it was prudent Lipovetsky’s connection to Perseus remained intact. They needed a paper trail to follow, and one they could follow without arousing Lipovetsky’s suspicion. There was no real point in spying on someone if they knew they were being spied on.

“The target is well guarded, the man has a price on his head and he’s well aware. Armed security teams around the clock, cameras around the house, the whole package.” Hudson states, slides on the projector screen behind him changing to show a floorplan of the house. 

“Is this where I come in?” Aria questions, it’s easy to assume that’s the only reason why she’s here. 

It seems they’ve selected her to be the honeypot, an unfortunate consequence of being at the very least a mildly attractive woman in the CIA. Sexuality had proven to be man’s greatest weakness time and time again, and it become just a part of the job. She knew if it was something she didn’t want to do, she could easily say no. But then again, she had killed many people in her time as an agent, and one had quickly learned how to detach emotions from entire aspects of life as necessary. 

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but she swears she sees Hudson and Adler share a look before the former answers her. “It’s where you and Adler come in.” 

Adler in the meanwhile, hasn’t spoken throughout the entire thing. He hadn’t even looked at her yet, his sightline having been maintained firmly on the projector screen ahead as Hudson led the briefing. The end of his cigarette had burned red in the darkness as he took steady pulls from it throughout, the only sign of life in an otherwise detached and glacial man. 

And now, Russell Adler is looking at her. Dark aviators like twin blackholes that threaten to swallow her whole. 

At this point the young agent is visibly confused, as demonstrated by Hudson moving to clarify the statement. “Through our surveillance program we’ve been able to observe the targets' routines and behaviours, and it has been noted that Lipovetsky has a particular…habit.” 

“He wants a threesome?” Aria blurts, now fiddling with the gold chain on her neck. 

This whole thing just got really fucking weird. 

Hudson’s mouth parts, likely looking for a way to word the whole thing professionally, but to her utter surprise Adler is the one who decides to cut to the chase. 

“He likes taking home married couples.” He states bluntly, nonchalant as he focuses on crushing the charred stub of his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him. 

It’s the first time she’s ever heard Adler speak, his voice low and warm. Though it’s not the sort of warmth one would typically associate with kindness, but rather it brings to mind the heat of a fire and danger. There’s a roughness there too, likely from his smoking, but oh how well does it suit him.

“Oh. Well, that’s…interesting.” Aria huffs with a laugh, feeling honestly a bit relieved. There were definitely weirder things in the world that people were into that she feared. Instead, her body tingles with interest. Married couple. 

“Why me then? This isn’t necessarily my normal line of work.” The woman questions. They could have chosen anyone, but they had chosen her. Hundreds of beautiful women worked here everyday but they somehow settled on her? 

“You both make an…attractive pair. You fit the bill in terms of the target’s preferences, as well the vacation demographic in the city.” Hudson says, arms crossed at his chest. “Apart from that, you’ve so far had an impressive field career, your performance is consistent and high quality.” 

The female agent can’t help the pride that burns in her chest at the praise from such a distinguished and highly respected man like Jason Hudson. Everything suddenly felt like a dream. 

“There’s a lot to lose here, we need more than a pretty face. You’ve got what we need.” Hudson emphasizes, the importance of this mission heavily ingrained to the back of her mind. 

“So…I’m going to play Adler’s pretty little trophy wife and then we’re going to collectively seduce our way into his house?” Aria wonders aloud, Adler and Hudson not moving to interrupt and permitting her speculation to continue. “And then what? Are we expected to fuck the information out of him?” 

Hudson sighs, pinching at his brow in exasperation. Adler jumps in once more, saving Hudson from further embarrassment. “We’re gonna slip him a sedative before things get to that. Special cocktail that’ll make him think he just drank a little too much.”

“Oh, thank god.” The youngest utters under her breath, relieved. Things were definitely easier that way.

“Once he’s out, we’ll mess with the camera system, do recon, collect intel, then get the fuck out.” Adler finishes, intense stare levelled right at her once more. She couldn’t help but squirm, he was almost too much to handle just by existing.

And God, she could listen to that voice all day. She was going to listen to it all day in a short matter of time.

She really loved her job sometimes.

“Sounds simple enough.” Aria resigns, casual as she accepted that her life was just really going to be this outlandish for the next little while. 

“You and Adler will set out the day before and go through the motions and leave a paper trail of your own. The target might try and track you both down just to check his bases.” Hudson adds, arms crossed as he switches his gaze back and forth between her and Adler. 

“If we leave evidence that we’re just a normal couple doing normal things, it’ll reassure the target there wasn’t any outside involvement and we weren’t up to no good.” Aria finishes, one arm perched on the armrest of her chair and the other fiddling with her pen as she returns Hudson’s gaze. 

“Precisely.” Hudson agrees, voice carrying the smallest hint of sympathy. 

It’s almost like he feels bad for her. 

Hudson dismisses them soon after, handing them directives on the particulars of their individual roles and aliases. Adler storms ahead of her to the exit, moving out without so much as acknowledging her once again.

He was an asshole, but a ridiculously good looking one. She would learn to play his game soon enough, and oh, she would press his buttons.

Hudson is quick to catch her disgruntled reaction at Adler’s behaviour. “Adler’s not the most personable, but he’s a damn good agent. He’ll have your back.” The elder reassures, perhaps seeking to soothe the burn of the other’s abrasive nature. 

The woman sighs, turning to flash Hudson a tight lipped smile. “I’ll figure him out, I’m not worried.”

She finishes packing away her items and gets ready to leave, eager to get started on the work ahead. Hudson calls her again as she reaches the door, making her pause in her tracks.

“Remember agent, don’t let me down.” 

Nodding with silent determination, she leaves.

[forestwater87]

Chapter 15: Grand Gesture

Summary: GRAND GESTURE: He or she must be willing to put it all on the line now or risk losing the one thing they need to become whole-hearted. It’s life or death now.

CW: Smut in the last third of the chapter. Questionable quality.

Summer 2017

“Fuck!” Gwen felt her center of gravity shift as she leaned forward, overbalancing on the rickety chair she’d been using to reach the ceiling. It tipped perilously on two legs, then lost the fight with physics and sent her sprawling with a crash that shook the dozens of tiny papers taped around the room. She hit the ground with her hip and the side of her face, one of them making a disturbing crunch sound and both shooting bright white pain down her entire right side. “Shit!”

She was halfway to her feet, wondering if the crossed-eyes dizzy feeling was from lack of sleep, hitting her head, or marker fumes, when fingers closed around her upper arm and she was hauled upright. “Gwen! Goodness, are you okay?” David let go of her, his gaze roving around the room as he took a step back. “What happened in here?”

She looked around, taking a deep breath and noticing for the first time in hours the thick perfume of tacky glue and paint, as though David walking in had turned her senses back on. It was done, mostly. Well, no — it’d never really be done, but it was enough to prove her point.

She hoped.

While she was panicking, David had wandered over to the center of the room, ducking to avoid a string of origami animals dangling from the ceiling. “Is this for camp?”

“Yes — I mean, no, it’s from camp, and maybe we can reuse some of it but no, it’s . . . not really . . .” She’d planned this, during her mad crafting frenzy: how David would come home, wonder what she was doing, and she’d carefully tour him through everything — or maybe she’d let him get on with his morning routine while she added a few more things, made it just a bit closer to perfect.

But his presence had pulled her to a halt. She’d been like a shark all night, afraid to stop moving or she’d die, but now that he was here she felt drained, the giddy, terrified adrenaline that’d been keeping her going evaporating in an instant.

Though hey. At least she had a good reason to be tired, for once.

He frowned at her discarded supplies strewn carelessly around the room. “Are these from Art Camp?”

The question jolted her into action, and she stumbled forward jerkily, like the Tin Man without oil. “Yeah, but I already took it out of my paycheck, it’s fine. I’ll go shopping tomorrow for new stuff.” She wanted him to hear what she really meant, what she was trying to put together through exhausted babbling: that this was important, that it was worth sacrificing sleep and money for, that she loved him and she respected him and she wanted him to know that.

Finally, finally, he turned his attention to the walls. “Gwen, what is all this?”

“It’s you,” she blurted out, then winced and rested her forehead in her palm. “No, that’s not — it’s — some of the stuff you’ve taught me, look . . .” She took his hand, her nerves trembling at the brush of his fingers against her own, and pulled him toward the doorway. She’d made a messy semicircle around the room, right to left like a supermarket. Dropping his hand, she took a step back, steepling her fingers like she was praying and pressing them to her lips with another steadying breath.

She had one chance.

“Okay,” she began. “So . . .”

---

Gwen looked like she was on the verge of falling over, listing dangerously to the side as she led him across the room. There were feathers in her hair, and scraps of paper; she was speckled with color, marker and paint and even a smear of glitter glue on the tip of her nose, the pads of her fingers nearly black with a rainbow of ink that stained his hand as she held it. It was obvious she hadn’t slept, even more obvious that she desperately needed to.

But her eyes were bright even if the circles under them were dark, and she thrummed with an energy and animation David hadn’t seen all summer.

And he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her, not when it finally felt like she’d returned to him.

“— song you taught me last year,” she said, and he felt a flash of guilt that he hadn’t been listening. She tapped the paper she’d stuck to the wall, the lyrics of his Camp Campbell song scrawled across it in uneven lines. “All the camp activities, remember? At least the most important ones.”

(It was really just the ones that fit best into the rhyme scheme, but he didn’t correct her as she moved on to a second piece of paper.)

“This is a list of all the facts about nature I’ve learned since I started here,” she continued, gesturing. This one was crammed so tightly with writing that he could barely read it, bullet points snaking in all directions and increasingly smaller handwriting as it moved down the page, until finally Gwen had started attaching sticky notes to the wall below and around the list. “I had to keep going back and adding things as I thought of them. I know I’m forgetting something, but I can’t —” She gestured around her head in a classic “scatterbrained” motion, chuckling weakly. “I’m kind of all over the place right now.”

Next: a bullseye, a pencil stuck point-first into the wall. “I couldn’t really shoot an arrow,” Gwen explained, “but remember that summer you taught me archery? I’m still pretty good at it — we went to a shooting range for Claire’s birthday last year and I was the only one who hit the target every time.”

Next: a messy drawing of a forest, a little stick figure kneeling next to a moss-covered rock. “That one time we got lost in the woods trying to find a good place for bug-catching, you got us out because you knew how to find north. You’d be pretty great in a zombie apocalypse.”

Next: a sheet of black construction paper poked through with holes, hastily taped to the back window so light from the lamp outside shone through in little pinpricks. He leaned closer and realized that they were in the rough shape of the constellations visible above Lake Lilac. “I didn't know much about stars and shit outside of, like, horoscope stuff — I mean, in the city you can’t even see them — but you always pointed out which constellations and planets were out during the summer and now I know them all too.”

And on, and on. Scale models of the crafts and activities they’d done at Camp Campbell, nature facts, and on one wall she’d tacked up a typewritten letter to the Director of Admissions at Queen’s University Belfast. Skimming it quickly, it looked to David like an application.

“I was trying to get into their Environmental Science program. I wrote about Sleepy Peak Peak and Lake Lilac,” she admitted, looking almost embarrassed. “I got in. And I mean, they’re not the best program out there, but they’re still in the top 300 worldwide so that’s pretty cool, I guess —”

“Belfast?” He leaned in closer, confirming that he’d read correctly. “Isn’t that in England?”

“Yeah.” She looked impressed, and he suppressed a weary smirk; yes, he did know a bit about the world outside of Camp Campbell. But she surprised him by adding, “I had to look that up, actually.” She shrugged. “Guess I should’ve just asked you, huh?

“Anyway, that was a couple years ago. I didn’t go, obviously,” she added, responding to his unspoken question. “International travel’s a bitch. I needed a scholarship, and my grades weren’t good enough. I think I only got in at all because of my letter.” She gestured at it, not quite meeting his eyes. “Which I never thanked you for. Or most of the stuff I’ve learned from you. I’ve been . . . kinda taking all that for granted. So, uh . . . thanks, David.”

He wanted to tell her she was welcome, that she didn’t need to thank him at all. That sharing these things with her had been the highlight of his life since they’d met, even if it hadn’t seemed like she cared about any of it. But there was a lump quivering dangerously in his throat and he didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

After a second she cleared her throat awkwardly and led him over to a row of stick figures hanging from the ceiling. “Some of these are from Yoga Camp,” she said, pointing at a few of the ones contorted into uncomfortable shapes, “but also all that other stuff you do. Like smile exercises —” and yes, one of the stick figures had a big pink smiley face, “— and breathing techniques and stuff. I use those sometimes when I’m having a panic attack. They really help, even if smile exercises still make me feel like a dumbass most of the time.”

The decorations started to get more abstract as they made their way around the room, simple crafts and trivia giving way to colorful scribbles and symbols, representing things he’d said to her about her relationship with her parents, her love life. “You have really good advice, you know that? You could be the next Dear Abby or something, seriously. I think that’s still running.”

(It was; he read it every morning with his pre-breakfast tea.)

“These get worse, sorry . . . I was getting tired.” Gwen jerked her chin up at a wobbly butterfly — or was it a bird? — dangling over their heads. “I use your advice about hummingbird-ing all the time. With writing, mostly, but sometimes at work or something, too.”

He gently reached up and touched the bird’s feet, watching it spin in a lazy circle. Technically the idea had been his mother’s, a way to avoid burnout by flitting from one project to another and adding just a little bit to each, instead of devoting all energy and resources to one thing and slogging through until it was done. The whole idea was part of his ethos of being a counselor — wasn’t Camp Campbell a place to get a little taste of everything, after all? He remembered explaining it to Gwen during her first week at camp, just over five years ago.

He wouldn’t have ever imagined that she’d actually remembered.

He didn’t think she remembered any of this.

But the evidence was all around him — on the walls, hanging from the ceiling, dozens of examples, mementos of the tiny moments that meant everything to him. Immortalized, remembered, in increasingly sloppy handwriting and doodles.

In the corner was a bright red card that looked familiar. David moved over to it and laughed in recognition: it was one he’d sent her after her first or second summer at Camp Campbell, when he’d seen on Facebook that she was looking for work. He tugged it off the wall, careful not to damage the cheap cardstock, and smiled down at the deer wearing a plaid hunting cap, which he’d made out of tissue paper and markers (he’d gotten much better since then, thanks to a few years of Decoupage Camps).

‘Good luck on your job HUNT! I know you’ll slay the interview!’

“I’ve kept that for years to show my friends,” Gwen said, making him jump; he hadn’t realized she’d come up behind him, but she was close enough to nearly rest her head against his. “I felt like it really captured the kind of guy you were.”

Her breath prickled the side of his neck, and he distracted himself by opening the card — ‘oh deer, is this joke going on too long? I feel like it’s overkill!’ — noticing how worn the crease was, like she’d opened and closed it hundreds of times. “Does it?”

He felt her shake her head without having to face her, stray wisps of hair that’d escaped her ponytail tickling his cheek. “Not even close.”

Unable to resist, he looked back at her over his shoulder, and she took his arm, turning him around the rest of the way. He thought she was going to kiss him — she was close enough that he could see a smeary glue thumbprint on her cheek and what looked like half a smiley-face sticker in her hair — but she just took the card from him, setting it carefully on the couch before taking hold of both his hands. Her expression was grave, shining faint with hope, and between the craft debris and her naked earnestness, she looked incredibly young and vulnerable.

“There’s more,” she said, gesturing with her chin toward the far wall, “and I’ll let — I want you to look at it, but . . . I just had to tell you, I’ve been taking you for granted and it’s not right. I’ve been pretending I still think of you as this —” Pulling one of her hands away, she picked up the card again, her fingers shaking so the deer’s toothpick antlers clacked together, “— sweet, silly, kinda childish David, who belongs with someone sweet, and silly, and kinda childish. And I tried to be that and . . . I mean I sucked at it,” she said, breaking off with a weak laugh, dropping her eyes to their joined hands. “And it . . . kind of broke me. But I didn’t even think to ask if that was what you wanted, because I thought I knew what you needed, and that was — so, really fucked.” She looked back up at him, her eyes dancing with purple fire, her grip on his hand tightening. “And I — I don’t, you know so much that I don’t — I could fill the entire cabin with stuff I’ve learned from you, this doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

She paused, like she was waiting for him to interject, but David felt like he’d been turned to stone, paralyzed and unblinking while his brain whirled.

“But none of it matters if it doesn’t show . . . if you don’t know —” Her voice cracked, and she dropped his other hand, pressing a fist to her mouth. “— h-how amazing you are, how much you matter to this camp and to me and . . . and I didn’t know people could actually be happy 'til I met you. I mean, I guess I knew technically, but not that it was a real thing people actually were. But you figured it out. You’ve known what you wanted since you were a kid and then you got it and I’ve never done anything without second-guessing myself a million times but you just did it, and it meant making so many decisions about your life that could’ve turned out wrong but they didn’t because they were the right ones for you. And you knew it. You always have.” She swiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, crying in earnest now. “You’re a marvel, David. I should’ve said that every fucking day. And I know it’s probably too little, too late, but I’m sorry. For not telling you and — and for everything.

“And I . . .” She swallowed hard, taking a few heaving breaths before continuing, and he knew she was trying to hold onto her composure even as tears poured down her cheeks, “I don’t know what you wanna do. With — with us, I mean. But you’re right, I haven’t been a good girlfriend to you, and if you don’t want to . . . if you want me to leave right now or after the summer ends or if you just wanna be friends or whatever , that’s fine. A-and — if you do . . . y’know . . .” Her face crumpled, her shoulders curling in on themselves. “I love you so much,” she managed, her words harder to make out through damp, hiccuping breaths. “Whatever — whatever you want — I — I — I trust you.”

Understanding pierced his chest, a small pinhole that allowed light to pour, warm and white, into his heart.

“I trust you.”

David hadn’t realized how desperately he’d needed to hear those words until that moment.

He stepped forward, plucking the card from her hand and tossing it onto the floor (he could make her another one, dozens if she wanted, hundreds) and tilting her chin up so he could kiss her. Her cheeks were wet under his palms, her mouth salty and acidic with the taste of not-quite-morning breath, and each brush of his lips against hers was broken by her pulling back to drag in a sobbing gasp, her mouth moving clumsily like she was as close to fainting from exhaustion and emotion as she looked.

It was, without question, the best kiss of his life.

He broke away to press his forehead against hers, sliding his hands from her face to cup the back of her neck and closing his eyes. “I love you too, Gwen,” he murmured, his heart fluttering at the giddily-incredulous, teary laugh she gave in response. “And I think you need to go to bed.”

She leaned back, and the bleary confusion on her face was so precious he rose up on his toes to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Huh? But what about . . .”

“I’ve got some stuff to think about,” he said, then gestured at the crafts she hadn’t shown him yet, “and look at. And after that . . . we should talk. But it won’t be a very good talk if you fall asleep,” he added with a laugh as her eyes drifted closed.

She opened them halfway, just enough to glare at him, but the effect would’ve been more intimidating if she hadn’t been swaying slightly. “’m fine.” The adrenaline that’d been keeping her going was clearly wearing off fast, and David was a little worried she wouldn’t make it to bed, that he’d just find her unconscious on the floor of the hallway. “You didn’t sleep either,” she accused, pointing at him with a finger stained silvery with graphite.

Goodness, he loved her so much he couldn’t stand it. “I had a nap.” Not a long one, but he was used to not sleeping much. “Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“It’s already the morning,” she complained, but like a sleepy robot she turned and shuffled back toward the front of the cabin. “I’m gonna brush my teeth and shower and stuff. So I look less like a sludge goblin.”

“You do that, Gwen.” He waited until the bathroom door had clicked shut before turning back to the mess she’d made of their living room. It was almost hard to tell the difference between what was art and what was trash left over, there was so much of both; it looked like an explosion had hit a crafts store.

Gwen wasn’t someone who put a lot of effort into things she didn’t care about. It was one of the most frustrating things about having her as a coworker, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love how unabashedly honest she was, how he could read her feelings just by looking at her work.

There was the soft sound of tape unsticking and one of the decorations sagged, a corner curling away from the wall and drooping down. He pushed it carefully back into place and fumbled for his phone, setting it to camera mode.

This was worth remembering.

---

Gwen was positive she’d never be able to fall asleep; how could she, when things were still so up in the air? But she wasn’t twenty anymore, and after the exhaustion and emotional turmoil of the last few hours — days, weeks; hell, if she was being honest it’d been years since she’d truly felt well-rested — and despite the anxiety buzzing inside her skull she was out in moments.

Soft fingers in her hair drew her back to earth, and when she opened her eyes David came into focus, crouching next to her bed so they were at eye level. He smiled as she blinked at him, warmth and sunshine he probably didn’t even know he was emitting. “Goooood morning, Gwen!” he chirped, his voice way too loud for how close they were, and she winced. “Sorry,” he added, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Habit.”

“It’s fine,” she said, because she’d missed his morning bellow so much more than she could ever miss having non-punctured eardrums. She sat up, clumsily swiping at her face to double-check for drool or errant eye gunk. “Morning.”

“How are you feeling?” He hopped onto the bed, making her and everything else on the mattress bounce. He was being so . . . normal, like all the drama last night had been a dream.

Fuck it. They had some hard, painful conversations coming; she could enjoy a little bit of normalcy while her brain booted back up. “Good,” she replied, yawning. “I mean, tired, but I’m always tired so —” Her blood chilled, and suddenly she was wide awake.

There went normal. All because she had to remind him of what an unloveable disaster she was.

But when she looked back up he didn’t seem annoyed. He leaned against the wall, stretching his legs out so they dangled off the edge of the bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” She scoffed before she could stop herself, and his gaze flicked up to hers, taking her breath away. (God, how she’d functioned for almost four years without feeling more than a flicker of attraction to this man was unfathomable.) “Really. I want to know what’s going on with you.��� His hand landed on her knee, light as a bird but blazingly warm even through her blankets. “All I want is for you to let me in.”

A swell of emotion swept up from somewhere in her chest, causing her eyes to prick with tears for the thousandth time. She looked away and sniffed as discreetly as possible — which wasn’t very, she assumed, since he immediately reached over and handed her a tissue from the pack he kept stashed in his pockets. “I mean, if you want me to complain, I can do that,” she muttered, tamping down another flow of tears through willpower. “I can complain about fucking anything.”

David’s laugh made her turn back toward him, because it didn’t have a trace of sadness or pity or anything she’d expected. It was so purely, entirely delighted , more than even he could fake, and he was looking at her like she’d said something surprising and wonderful.

“You really like it,” she blurted out, unable to hide the awe in her voice. “That I’m like this. Whiny and —” she waved vaguely “— bitchy, and whatever.”

“I don’t.” He shook his head and her stomach plummeted. But as she took a breath to respond he shifted closer, gently cupping the back of her neck so he could tap his forehead against hers. “I love it, Gwen. I love everything about you.”

A laugh burbled out of her before she could stop it, and she pulled away to hide her face. “Oh my god. You bastard. You’re so cheesy.”

His fingers closed around her wrists, tugging her palms away from her face. “I love you,” he said, kissing the skin she’d covered with her hands — the tip of her nose, each cheek, her top and bottom lip, her eyebrows.

“I love you, too.” She could already tell that if he was going to keep saying that to her she’d spontaneously combust, because this was all too cute and romantic and lovely and she still didn’t fully understand how this was happening, why he didn’t hate her.

But she’d promised she wouldn’t question his decision, whatever it was. She owed him that much.

His smile faded slightly, a faint line appearing between his eyebrows. “What’re you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she lied automatically, and when that only made him sigh she added, “I said I was going to trust you,” hating the note of defensiveness in her voice, because of the two of them she didn’t have much grounds for righteous indignation.

“Then trust me with how you feel.” It should’ve sounded too much like a cliche, something she’d tease him for, but he was right and they both knew it.

She’d put him through hell by not telling him the truth, and they both knew that, too.

Gwen closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and forcing herself to relax. Things were — they seemed okay, didn’t they? Almost normal, but better, because all her ugliness was out there for him to see and he knew about it and he didn’t seem to mind. And wasn’t that something she’d never thought she’d ever actually find? “I don’t get it,” she admitted, her voice sounding small and stupid. “I keep feeling like . . . like I tricked you somehow. Like I didn’t explain well enough why you shouldn’t want me, because if you really got it you wouldn’t be here. Not because I think you’re stupid,” she added quickly, desperately, “because I don’t, really! But — but even smart people can be . . . I don’t know, manipulated?”

The confusion in her voice made her pause, sit back. Manipulated? That couldn’t be right, could it? She wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone, and she was pretty sure you couldn’t manipulate someone by accident.

Or maybe you could; she hadn’t always paid a ton of attention to her psych classes in college.

“I’m sorry,” she managed after a few deeply uncomfortable moments of silence. “I’m trying, I promise, but I understand if . . . you know. Whatever.” (She still hated saying it, especially now that it seemed like it might not happen. Breaking up with David was hard enough without having to say it.)

He put his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side and kissing her temple. “Thank you for telling me, Gwen.”

“You’re not mad?”

She felt him shake his head as she rested hers on his shoulder, scooting down to make up for their (lack of) height difference. “I wasn’t really mad when I came back this morning,” he said, “even before I saw everything you’d made. I had some time to cool down, and I . . . started thinking, I guess.”

Gwen wanted to look up at him, but she wanted to soak in his warmth more so she nuzzled into the curve of his neck, inhaling the smells of floral detergent and piney-woodsy cologne left over from the day before. “About what?” she asked, like there could possibly be more than one answer. Like maybe he’d been pondering the sociopolitics of Malaysia or something.

He let out a little huff of laughter, and she knew without looking that he’d glanced up at the ceiling in a slow blink (that he insisted was less rude than rolling his eyes outright, even though it was just as obvious). “You. Everything that’s happened this summer — and before it.” His shoulder shifted slightly under her cheek, a shrug aborted halfway through so she’d be comfortable. “Things started making more sense after everything we talked about tonight. Like the day we . . . well, when you told me about that gentleman you . . . almost took home.”

“He wasn’t a gentleman, he was a douchebag,” she interrupted, immediately feeling like an asshole. But David chuckled and squeezed her closer, like he enjoyed her company even when she was being annoying (which he did; somehow he actually did) and she let herself relax against his side, believe that maybe things were going to be okay after all.

“I’ve thought about the stuff you said a lot since that day. Mostly the parts that made me feel the worst.”

She flinched. “I’m so sorry —” she began, but he cut her off with a kiss to her forehead.

“I have trouble with . . . rejection,” he continued, sounding embarrassed. Like that minor character flaw even came close to the millions of ways she was fucked up. “I — I guess you could call it ‘abandonment issues’? But at first, and for a while, all I could hear were the ways you didn’t . . . seem to want me around anymore.”

“But I did —”

“I know.” Another soft kiss, and she wasn’t sure if it was to reassure her or himself. “I know that now. And I think, knowing that . . . it made what you said sound different.

“You were drunk — I know, you downplayed it, and it wouldn’t have excused . . . but your judgment was still impaired. And you didn’t kiss him. Thinking back, it didn’t even sound like you really wanted to. Did you?” She shook her head, not willing to look up at him because no matter how gently he tried to frame this she still felt like it was her fault. “And I just couldn’t stop thinking, how if this had happened a few years ago you would’ve told that story so much differently. If we were still just friends, maybe. You would’ve stormed into the cabin raging about how some jerk had ‘put his mitts all over you’ —”

Gwen couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, pushing away from him and resting her head in her hands. “That can’t be how you think I talk!”

“It was an edited version,” he admitted, flushing. His smile was wide enough to illuminate the room, catching and refracting the dreary dawn light. “Please come back?”

She snuggled into his outstretched arms, her heart panging at the plaintive note in his voice. She wrapped herself around him, legs entangled with his and arms squeezing his waist; she’d missed him just as much. “Your impression of me is really bad,” she said with an uncontrollable giggle that made her feel like she was fourteen.

“I’ll work on it.” For a moment he just held her, soaking in the relief of being together and being okay. (At least, that's what she was doing.) “Why did it bother you so much?” he asked after a minute or so. “It doesn’t . . . well, it just doesn’t sound like you did anything wrong.”

“I guess — yeah, maybe not, technically anyway. But you’d just visited and saw how terrible my life is, and I was having an even harder time being a less-shitty version of myself . . .” He made a soft noise, almost pained, and pulled her closer. “So when this asshole showed up and was, like, exactly the type of guy I usually go for, it felt like . . . I don’t know. Like the universe was telling me we didn’t belong together. That sounds stupid. Never mind.” She pressed her face against his chest with an embarrassed groan. “Pretend I said something that doesn’t make me sound like I write horoscopes for a living.”

“I like horoscopes!” he replied, because of course he did. After a moment he added, “Thank you for telling me. It . . . helps confirm some things I was thinking earlier, when I left. Because what you said, and what you’ve been saying for a long time . . . I’ve been hearing it the way that’d hurt me the most, but I think you meant it to make me hate you.” He paused for a second, then added, “Do you think I’m right?”

Gwen shrugged, feeling more than a little like one of his campers receiving an aggressively pacifist talking-to. “Yeah. I don’t . . . like myself all that much.”

“I’ve noticed.” And David pressed another kiss to the top of her head, like he was rewarding her for being honest. Or like he just couldn’t help himself. “You haven’t treated me very well lately, Gwen. And I was — am very unhappy about that. But I don’t think it holds a candle to how you treat yourself.”

She wriggled away enough to sit up and look at him, frowning. “So you’re, what? Willing to come back to a shitty relationship because you feel sorrier for me than for you?” she demanded, even though it would’ve been smarter to just not say anything and enjoy his pity while she still had it.

But again, she said she’d be honest. And the true Gwen was kind of a bitch.

His smile turned sad, and he carefully tucked a flyaway hair behind her ear. “See, that’s what I mean. You never give yourself the benefit of the doubt.” When she frowned, not understanding, he took her hand and began playing with it, wiggling her fingers and twining them with his. “I understand better, now. How you’re feeling and what you’re thinking. And I’m not going to let you treat me like I’m a kid, or — or stupid, or whatever. I know you don’t really think that,” he added as she opened her mouth to argue. “There’s a whole cabin’s worth of proof in the living room that you don’t really think that. That’s why I wanna try again. Miscommunications, misunderstandings . . . those are fixable. And now that I know what’s been going through your head, I don’t think you’ve done anything I can’t forgive.”

Her eyes filled with tears — again, and she was going to die of dehydration if she didn’t get ahold of herself — but this time she couldn’t resent them too much, not when it felt like she was brimming over with hope that was eager to burst free. “What’re you saying, David?”

He shifted back, turning so he was sitting cross-legged facing her, and took both her hands in his. “I keep . . . trying to find a way to say it,” he admitted, looking down at their twined fingers and flushing pink, “because ‘do you want to be my girlfriend again?’ is maybe too middle-school, but ‘dating’ sounds too casual, and —”

Gwen pulled out of his grasp and closed the distance between them, straddling his lap and taking his chin in one hand. His face lifted toward her before his eyes did, darting from her chest to over her shoulder before finally meeting her gaze. She wound her free arm around his shoulders, sliding her fingers into the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. With the hand cupping his jaw she gently swiped her thumb across his lower lip, slightly chapped but still warm and softer than it looked, each breath skating across her skin feather-light and making her skin prickle. “Yeah,” she said, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to his, holding back a laugh — or maybe a sob, she wasn’t quite sure; the emotions roiling inside her were too much to separate between happy and sad. “Whatever you’re asking, yes, I want it.”

She felt his smile spread under her thumb before he brushed her hand away, tilting his head so he could kiss her. “Good,” he murmured with a breathless chuckle, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer. “I mean, I was pretty sure you’d say that, but still — that’s a relief.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You idiot.” Her blood turned to ice, and she pulled away from him, stricken. For fuck’s sake, couldn’t she be anything but herself for five minutes? “I didn’t mean — !”

David smiled, far more fondly than she deserved. “I know, Gwen.”

Groaning, she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m trying, really I am.”

“Don’t.” He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back until she was upright, looking down at him again. “Please don’t try so hard to be what you think I want. Just be you.”

“Right.” She forced her shoulders to relax, tilting her head back and rolling her neck until it cracked. “I’m . . . gonna have a hard time with that. ‘Just me’ is kind of the worst.”

“I know you think that,” he said, pressing his half-open mouth to the hollow of her collarbone and making her shiver. “And I’ll keep reminding you until you don’t think it anymore.”

She managed a weak chuckle, leaning into his lips as he moved up her neck. “Good luck with that.”

His answering laugh rolled over her skin, warm and teasing. “Haven’t you heard, Gwen? I like projects.”

Jesus. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she tugged him upright, taking a moment to appreciate his gasp that wasn’t just surprise. “I love you,” she said, loosening her grip and kissing his forehead, petting away the furrows her fingers left in his fluffy red hair.

His expression softened. “I love —” he began, and Gwen tightened her hold on his hair and pulled back, just so she could watch his eyes flutter shut and his breath catch, “— y-you too.”

Dragging her palm down the side of his neck, she settled her thumb on his throat, feeling his pulse flutter rapidly, and bent to kiss him again. She hadn’t necessarily meant to turn it into anything, just wanted to feel his lips against hers, but her fingers tightened involuntarily in his hair and he moaned, and it was a lit match dropped down her throat to a stomach full of gasoline, a whoosh of heat blazing to life in the pit of her belly. “David,” she breathed, not so much because she had anything to say but because she needed to say it, to roll the sound of his name around in her mouth, let it melt like chocolate on her tongue and infuse her whole body with sweetness.

“Gwen,” he said, and she thought he was doing the same thing, saying her name just because he could, but then his hands were on her shoulders and he was pushing her away, gentle but firm. “Gwen, wait, we should — talk about this —”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Okay. Sorry.” She sat back, her face warming. But as she settled her weight more firmly in his lap he jolted; and if she’d thought she was embarrassed it was nothing to the way his already-flushed cheeks flamed pink, spreading in blotches up to his hairline and the tips of his ears, down to disappear underneath his bandana. He stammered out an apology, avoiding her eyes even as his cock twitched, like bashfulness could disguise how hard he was against her. She quickly rose back up — the last thing she wanted was to make him feel ashamed, or pressured; everything between them was as tremulous and new as the first time — but realized almost instantly when David squeaked that this just shoved her chest in his face.

She hovered there for an awkward second, the two of them staring at each other in mortified horror. Then his whole expression wavered, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth before quickly flattening into a thin line, and the break in his composure took hers out too. She snorted, and they both burst out laughing. “I’ll just sit over here,” she said through giggles, rolling off his lap and settling on the other side of the bed with her feet curled under her so they were no longer touching. He made a small sad sound like a squeeze toy deflating, and Gwen rolled her eyes and stretched out one leg until her foot brushed his knee. “Here, hold my foot if you’re that lonely. It’s practically holding hands.”

His eyes widened, hands closing around her ankle and setting it on his thigh with something like reverence. “Thank you,” he murmured, gently tracing the outline of her foot with his fingertips. “That was very sweet, you know.”

God, she was blushing, wasn’t she? She had to be. “Yeah,” she agreed, trying to ignore the ticklish feeling as he kept playing with her foot like it was a toy doll. “Felt weird, too. I kinda wanted to insult you or something, just to balance it out.”

He smiled, wiggling her big toe like he was playing that little piggies game she used to do with her nieces when they were babies. “That’s my Gwen.” And he sounded pleased, almost proud, like she’d done something wonderful.

But that was David; even though sometimes he was completely oblivious, sometimes he noticed and appreciated the tiniest, most inconsequential things. That’s my David, she thought, her heart swelling like it was going to burst. “You wanted to talk about something?” she reminded him, waggling her toes to get his attention.

“Oh! Right.” He gently took her foot and set it on the bed next to him, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. “Sorry, I was getting distracted, and that was the whole point of you moving over there.” (He said it with a pout, like she’d gone to Spain instead of just out of arms’ reach.)

“I thought the whole point of me moving over here was so you could cool down, tiger,” she teased. But when he didn’t respond except to flush darker, his gaze firmly on a fraying edge of the pillowcase in his arms, something weird and hilarious clicked in her head. “Oh my god, are you into feet?”

“No!” He lifted his head to give her a tragically betrayed expression. “Not a weird amount!”

She grinned, poking his thigh with her outstretched foot. “What’s a weird amount?” she asked.

He shrugged, not quite able to maintain the kicked-puppy look when a smile kept trying to break through. “I don’t know. Watching people in heels step on fruit. I don’t like that sort of thing, I’ll have you know,” he added defensively, and for a second Gwen was sure he’d stick his tongue out at her.

“Sure, but you’re into them enough to know those videos exist.”

“I think I’d like to go back to you being nice to me,” he muttered, and she felt a stab of panic before he gently patted her ankle and met her gaze with a slight smile. Like he knew what she was thinking.

So she shoved past her nervousness and said, “But I thought you wanted me to be myself. And as myself, I can’t believe you never told me you were a foot guy!”

“I’m a you guy. And . . . you know. All of you. You’re perfect.”

“Yeah, but the feet are a thing, huh? At least a little bit.” When he didn’t answer she laughed, shaking her head. “So do you, like, want a footjob or something?”

“I really don’t.”

“How have we been dating this long and I didn’t know about this? What other freaky sex things are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” he said, hugging the pillow tighter. After a moment he looked away and added, “I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“David.” She leaned forward, waiting for him to look at her and see in her expression just how ridiculous that was. “You can’t get weirder than I am. You know that.” When the color in his face receded just a little bit, and his eyes flicked back toward her hopefully, she sighed and attempted to dredge up one of the strangest kinks in her vast library. “I’d totally fuck Drogon.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “From Game of Thrones? So would I- Iiiiiii mean, s-so would most people.”

“No, not Khal Drogo, Drogon. The dragon. Not like a humanized version, either — just full lizard.”

“Oh.” He smiled a little, almost a smirk, and Gwen felt distinctly, lovingly judged. “That does make me feel better. Thank you.”

“No problem. And tomorrow I’m gonna go into town and get a pedicure, just for you.” She wiggled her toes at him, grinning. “I’m thinking something slutty, like hot pink.”

“Gwen!” He shoved her foot away, laughing. “I was trying to have a serious conversation before you started talking about — about slutty toes and dragons!”

She cracked up too, falling over onto her side and nearly toppling off the bed. “Slutty toes,” she repeated breathlessly, and it took a few minutes to recover; every time they tried to make eye contact they burst out laughing again.

“Okay, okay.” Gwen finally sat back up, trying in vain to smooth her hair out of its mass of tangled bedhead. “I’m sorry, you were trying to say something serious. What’s up?”

“Right.” He took a deep breath, fingers knotting in her blankets until his knuckles were white. “It’s just . . . it was starting to seem like we were going to — um, you know. Be intimate.”

She resisted the urge to tease him for his word choice. “I was open to it, yeah.”

“M-me too! That’s why . . . well. Okay.” He took a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face, and Gwen noticed for the first time how tired he looked.

“Hey, we don’t have to do anything,” she said, shifting closer so she could put her hand on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He nodded, patting her hand before brushing it away so she didn’t feel rejected, and once again she felt a rush of love so intense it almost brought tears to her eyes. He could be so simply, effortlessly kind, without even thinking about it. “I do. At least, I think I do. I- I mean, I know I do, but it’s hard to . . .” He waved his hand around his head like his thoughts were scattering birds.

“The night before we . . . well. Ended things.” He flinched at his own words, and she felt the same pain flicker over the surface of her heart.

It’s okay, she reminded herself, wishing she could sweep him up in her arms and block out all the bad memories she’d put there. It still hurts, but we’re going to be okay.

Like he’d been thinking the same thing, David stretched out his hand to find hers, squeezing her fingers. “I said I didn’t want to,” he continued in a rush, “you know. Be together like that. And you . . . seemed to get mad — at me. And then the next day you broke up with me.” He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a shuddering breath that had tears behind it, and she tightened her grip on his hand. “It’s okay,” he said, opening his eyes and giving her a slightly-watery smile. “I’m okay. But I just need to know . . .”

“God, no,” she jumped in, taking up the thread of his question as it trailed off into nothingness. “David, no, it had nothing to do with — I freaked out, but I was already — I mean, I was gonna fall apart over anything, it didn’t have to be that. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.” She couldn’t stand it anymore, so she pulled his hand to her lips, kissing his knuckles because she wanted to respect his need for space but she had to touch him or she was going to die.

He swallowed, watching their joined hands for a moment before looking away. “You — that really hurt me, Gwen. I just needed to tell you that.”

All the anger he’d thrown at her in the past several hours, all the pain and frustration, and it was those small, matter-of-fact words that slashed her heart in two. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

She hated apologizing — it always felt weak, or dangerous, or something. Like it was an opening for someone to hate her even more, like she was handing them a weapon to hold over her head for the rest of her life. (It was why she hated receiving them, too; she could be spiteful and vindictive as anyone, but it was uncomfortable watching someone flay themselves in front of her.)

But with David . . . it didn’t feel like she was giving him leverage when she told him she was sorry. She wasn’t scared he’d hold onto it and throw it back in her face someday. She wasn’t resentful of him, and she wasn’t worried about how he’d react.

She wasn’t anything but truly, genuinely sorry.

And he didn’t brush it aside, act like she had no reason to apologize the way she’d half-expected. Either she hadn’t been giving him enough credit, or he’d grown up while she wasn’t paying attention. Maybe a little of both. But whatever the cause, he just stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles and nodded, a ghost of his smile returning for a second. “It’s okay,” he said, looking at her like she was — god, like he loved her. “Hearing it helps.”

She wasn’t sure if he needed more than that, but she wasn’t going to let a single doubt linger in his mind. “Seriously, David, you can — I won’t ever be mad at you for saying no, ever. For any reason, or no reason or . . . whatever. It’s okay. It’ll always be okay.”

“I — um, I had a reason.” He spoke fast, his eyes wide like he’d surprised himself. Still, he pressed his lips together into a flat line and met her gaze, clearly nervous but just as clearly not intending to end the conversation until they’d said everything they needed to. He was so brave. “I should’ve mentioned it at the time, but I guess I was scared.”

Gwen snorted, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I can relate to that.”

He rewarded her with a small, soft smile before continuing, “The thing is, everything had just been so gosh-darned strange between us, and it felt like you were avoiding me all the time — except when we were together like that.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “It sounds silly, but I couldn’t help but worry that maybe that was . . . all you were interested in me for.”

Her stomach sank. “And then when you said no, and I freaked . . .”

David nodded, his throat moving as he swallowed again. “Yeah,” he murmured, looking away. “It — it sure felt like you only wanted me for that one thing, all of a sudden, and when you couldn’t get it . . .”

“I dumped you,” she finished, covering her mouth in horror. “Oh, David.”  

“I was a little nervous to tell you to stop.” He pulled his hands from hers so he could fidget, twisting his long fingers together. “Earlier — just now. A minute ago. So we could talk. I — I know it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t stop thinking you might get mad at me again.”

“I wasn’t mad,” she replied, her hands shaking with how badly she wanted to hug him. (And god, what a change from their normal paradigm, that she was the one who had to hold herself back from a hug.) “I mean, I was, but never at you. I was mad at me, for screwing things up. I — you’re right, I was avoiding you, or avoiding talking to you, I guess. Because I didn’t know how to talk to you, how to act so you wouldn’t find out that I’m . . .” Her throat closed, thick and gummy with tears, and she took a deep breath and swallowed them back. “Rotten,” she finished, which was a stupid, melodramatic word but it felt right; it described the way she still felt despite everything, squishy and overripe and putrid. “It was getting harder to hide, once we were together all the time. And when we were fucking —” She couldn’t tiptoe around the words like David, not when she could just say it and watch him flush red. Even her rotted heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled. “It felt like I didn’t have to try so hard. I couldn’t be amazing, but I could make you feel amazing. And if I could do that . . .” She sniffed, looking away and wiping her face clean. “I thought I was letting you know how much you mean to me,” she admitted, the realization coming right on the heels of the words. “I mean, obviously I wasn’t — add that to the list of things I suck at — but when you didn’t want to have sex, it . . . I took it really hard.”

Her face was turned away, so his hand on her shoulder made her jump. “It felt like I was rejecting the only thing you had to offer,” he guessed, his voice soft and sad but no longer on the verge of tears. “Gwen . . .”

“It’s fine,” she said, shaking her head like she could rattle her self-pity out of her head. “That was just me being stupid, I know that. More importantly — seriously.” She looked back at him, at his beautiful open face, at the way he was watching her like she could possibly have something to say that mattered. “It’s never been about sex with you, David,” she said. Felt the encroaching tears yet again and decided to ignore them. If they came, they came; they weren’t going to stop her, because it was the most essential thing in the world that he knew, that he believed her. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex is really good —” He chuckled, blushing exactly the way she’d hoped he would, and it gave her a little glowing spark of strength, “— but it doesn’t even come close to being what I love most about you. None of that stuff —” She gestured toward her bedroom door, and the mess of crafts cluttering their common room. “— comes close. It’s — everything, a billion other things I don’t know how to explain or describe or show you but I love you, so much, more than I’ve ever loved anyone and it scares me, and — I’m rambling. Sorry.” She shrank back, feeling like an idiot again. “I just wanted you to know that. It . . . we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, ever, and I’ll never be mad at you, or disappointed, or anything like that.”

“Thank you, Gwen.” He was quiet for a minute, and she felt the tension ratcheting up in her shoulders with each long, spiraling second. Part of her wanted to snap at him to just say something, finish the damn thought before he gave her a heart attack, but that was her anxiety and regret talking, and she never wanted to take her own issues out on him ever again.

(She probably would, considering what a mess she was. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on purpose.)

“You’re right, though.” David’s voice was a surprise, as was the soft laugh accompanying his words. He was sitting with his head tilted back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling like he could see through it to the fading stars and brightening sky. His gaze dropped to meet hers, and he immediately looked down and away, biting his lip to try and hide a smile. “We are pretty darn great together.”

A massive weight dropped from Gwen’s chest, rolling away like a stone. “Yeah,” she agreed. Then, to test the waters: “I taught you well.”

It worked; he turned back toward her, his shyness replaced with half-serious indignation. “I like to think some of it was natural talent!”

“Ehh,” she teased, holding her hand out flat and seesawing it back and forth in a “so-so” motion. “Pretty sure enthusiasm was doing most of the heavy lifting in the beginning there.”

He crossed his arms over his chest with a disbelieving scoff. “Well, I never!”

She pressed her lips together to keep from giggling. What a dork. “Y’know, I should say we were insanely good. But I dunno, for all I know you’ve totally lost it.” Shaking her head mournfully, she quickly glanced over to make sure he wasn’t actually offended.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes growing wide before narrowing. “I haven’t lost anything!” he snapped, and — oh, the playful irritation in his voice made her stomach twist. Not in the awful sick way she’d been tied up in knots earlier, but with a flush of heat that took her breath away.

Managing a smirk, she laid back on her elbows, a warm glow of satisfaction blooming in her chest as his gaze dropped to her stomach, to the narrow strip of skin where her camisole had ridden up. She waited until he dragged his eyes back up to her, dark and intense like the ocean in a storm, then grinned at him.

“Wanna bet?”

His face lit up — or, not quite. Because his smile was bright and warm as sunshine, but underneath the tenderness was a sharp competitive edge that he almost never turned on her. It was almost intimidating, but the shiver it sent down her spine had nothing to do with fear. “Always,” he replied.

Before she could respond he’d pushed himself to his knees and grabbed her just above her calves; a quick tug forward and Gwen was pulled flat on her back, dragged down the bed until her body was sprawled out beneath him. He let go of her, bracing his hands on either side of her head and bending down to capture her mouth in a kiss.

She curled one hand around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, bending her knees so he was caged between her legs and arching her back to bring as much of her skin against his as possible. He was warm, almost uncomfortably so — her furnace, her own personal sun, and she wanted nothing more than to melt into him. When he abandoned her mouth in favor of trailing long, suckling kisses down her neck she pressed her lips together, biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep from making a sound.

“You could’ve —” A gasp, too sudden for her to swallow it back, and she felt David’s satisfied smirk against the base of her throat as he bit down again. “— given me a concussion, you asshole.”

He hummed in assent, his lips skating up to her ear and his tongue lapping at the sensitive spot just behind it. “I know,” he said mildly, “but I didn’t.”

He gently took her earlobe between his teeth, and she couldn’t help the strangled noise that was somewhere between a moan and a sigh. Grabbing his hair again, she dragged his mouth back for another kiss, enjoying the shudder that rolled down his spine and made him tremble everywhere his body was touching hers. For a few dizzying minutes she held him there, barely allowing either of them to draw breath. His mouth was blood-hot, warmer than even her fevered skin, and she didn’t know exactly where she wanted it because she wanted it everywhere — against hers, his tongue lapping at the roof of her mouth and making her shiver; around one of her nipples, his teeth catching on the pebbled skin; sucking bruises into her inner thighs, closing around her clit, dipping inside her cunt, her asshole, along the sensitive strip of skin between the two. She wanted him to kiss her places that weren’t even close to erotic but she knew would burst into flame if he so much as brushed his lips over them: the bone jutting out from her ankle, the ticklish spot inside her elbow, wherever the fuck he wanted to press the gorgeous wet heat of his mouth she wanted to let him, because from the very first kiss he’d been good, better than he’d had any right to be but time and experience had worked their magic and now his mouth could ruin her; without even trying he could reduce her to twitching, shuddering goo.

“Take this off,” she gasped, not sure if she meant her clothes or his because she was wriggling out from under him and trying to remove both at the same time, her fingers clumsy and shaking with how badly she needed to touch him without any fabric in the way. She struggled to her knees, practically yanking her camisole off and throwing it across the room before hooking her fingers in his belt loops and dragging him close enough for her to undo the buckle. “Come on —”

“So I won?” He laughed breathlessly, untucking his shirt and pulling it over his head in one fluid motion, smugness making him unfairly graceful like he was trying to show off.

“Sure, whatever,” she muttered, because who cared about some bet when he was kneeling half-naked in front of her? They’d had silly, jokey sex but that was not this, not when he was so beautiful she was having trouble looking directly at him, hair mussed and lips damp and swollen and pink blooming in blotches under the light constellations of freckles across his skin. He looked debauched, flushed and obscene even with half his clothes still on, and there wasn’t room in her brain for humor when all she could feel was clawing shaking need. She dropped onto all fours, leaning down to trace the hard outline of his cock with her tongue, and even through his shorts he was burning warm. He sucked in a sharp breath, his pulse spiking under her mouth, and Gwen couldn’t resist closing her lips around the shape of his erection, breathing in the salty-ammonia smell of precome and feeling her mouth water. “David,” she began, but there was no end to that sentence so she lifted her head slightly, bit the delicate ridge of his hipbone where it peeked out from the waist of his shorts, caught him as his hips stuttered forward. She kept him steady, one hand splayed across his lower back, as she rose to her knees without lifting her mouth from his skin: over the barely-there softness of his stomach (no werewolf six-pack here, despite his lean strength), tongue swirling among the faint red hair below his belly button, following the curve of his ribs, just barely brushing one nipple — he made a small, strung-out noise in the back of his throat, almost despairing as she moved on up to his neck — until she found his lips again, dragging him into a bruising, breathless kiss.

When she pulled away David’s smile was gone, drawn out of his mouth and leaving him panting. “Okay,” he murmured, soft and almost reverent, but before she could figure out what specifically was okay he hauled her forward like she weighed nothing, capturing her lips for a second before trailing down her throat, pausing at a sensitive place above her pulse point and biting down hard, sucking the skin between his teeth.

Pain bloomed under his mouth, rippling out into shockwaves of cold-hot pleasure, and when he bit her again she couldn’t hold back a moan. “You’re gonna — leave a mark,” she gasped, gently shoving his head away and running her fingers over the damp skin. It was already tender, and judging by David’s expression, contrite and amused and darkly heated, it was going to be a hell of a hickey. “I can’t hide this!”

“I’m sorry!” he tried, but it wasn’t close to convincing when he couldn’t hide his grin. His eyes drifted down to the mark again and he licked his lips, expression growing dazed for a moment before he snapped back up to look at her face. “I can make you a bandana, if you want. Just until it fades.”

“Fucker.” Gwen laughed, not so much because it was funny but because it was him, and she loved him more than she could possibly stand. Tired of the overheated, confining clothes she was still wearing, she shimmied out of them, tossing her pajama shorts and half-soaked underwear without bothering to see where they landed. “Come here,” she said, pressing her legs together and shivering at the wet slide of her inner thighs and labia, a thousand nerve endings sparking to glistening life. “You can make it up to me.”

She swore she could almost see his mouth water, his gaze dropping between her legs as he took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am,” he said — and they’d never tried that before, but judging by the way his cock twitched and his eyes jumped sheepishly to hers, it was something he’d thought about a lot. Filing the information away for later, she held out her hand and pulled him closer when he took it, resting her forehead against his. It took just the slightest shift in the angle of her head to kiss him again so she did it without thinking, her hand sliding between their bodies to curl loosely around the outline of his erection.

He gasped shakily against her mouth, his hands fluttering up and down her waist like he couldn’t decide where to touch her. One of them dropped to her ass, a light, almost hesitant touch, and she rewarded it with a soft groan; he made a weak noise in the back of his throat and pulled her closer, kneading her ass before slipping lower, between her legs. The heel of his hand brushed teasingly against her clit as he pressed two fingers into her, and she mimicked his pace, gliding her palm down the length of his clothed cock and relishing the way his fingers twitched against her inner walls.

He fingered her like that, slow and steady, for — she didn’t know how long. Lost track of the strokes that sent warmly buzzing tendrils up her spine, lost count of the breaths gasped raggedly between their lips, of the kisses that melted into one another until she wasn’t entirely sure where she was, she was hyper aware of the heartbeat pounding in her clit and every too-gentle drag of his hand but numb to literally everything else that wasn’t right here, wasn’t David —

“Fuck,” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder with a shuddering sigh. She turned her head and lapped at his throat, sucking his skin into her mouth and biting down hard enough to make his fingers jolt inside her, pressing against her g-spot for one delicious moment. “God, I -- please, David, just make me come, please --”

Another shiver, another twitch of his fingers that took her breath away. “Okay,” he said, his voice strangled and hoarse. He pulled out of her and sat back on his heels. “Lay down, all right?”

Yes, yes, whatever he was thinking was 100% all right with her. She almost kneed him as she scrambled into position, but her embarrassed giggle evaporated as he lowered himself onto his elbows, scooching her up the bed like she weighed nothing and settling between her legs. Alarm cut through her arousal, her mind immediately trying to calculate the last time she’d showered, let alone shaved --

His eyes flicked up to hers, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I know,�� he replied before she’d even opened her mouth. “I promise, I really want to.”

Oh, god. She covered her face to muffle a squeak, flopping onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. “I’m that predictable, huh?”

David hummed thoughtfully, the sound vibrating up the inside of her thigh. “Only with some things. Other times you surprise me quite a bit.”

“Yeah?” He kissed the top of her mound, his tongue dipping into the V formed by her lips and just brushing her clit — a teasing touch, his mouth moving away even as she lifted her hips instinctively. “I’m surprising?”

“You are,” he said, the camp-counselor cheer in his voice making what he was doing feel even more obscene. He traced the line of her cunt with his mouth before gently fingering her open. “The first time you did this, for example. That surprised me quite a bit!”

“This?” She knew exactly what he meant — her stomach still dipped and swooped at the memory of kneeling on the floor of his shower, the heady rush of confidence and vulnerability she’d felt looking up at him with his cock at her lips — but she tilted her head back with a sigh and breathed, “Pretty sure I’ve never eaten you out before. Not that I wouldn’t be into that, just saying.”

He gasped and spluttered, pulling back to wipe his mouth and staring at her with wide, shocked eyes, then coughed, tapping his chest with his other hand. “Excuse —?!”

When he lowered his head to cough again and take an unsteady breath, Gwen sat up on her elbows, not sure if she should be amused, worried, or mortified. “Oh my god, please tell me you did not just choke on cunt juice!”

David gave her a disgusted look, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “There had to be another way to word that,” he said, as primly as he could while still struggling to catch his breath. “But — um, you didn’t…w-was a joke, or…?”

“I meant it,” she admitted, “but I get it if you don’t want to, don’t feel pressured either way —”

“No — I want to.” He looked startled by his own words, and immediately dropped his gaze, smoothing his palms down her thighs like he could disguise how his fingers trembled. “Sometime. If — if you do.”

Gwen let the awkward silence linger for another moment, not quite sure how to move forward. “Good. That’s…something to put on the to-do list.”

“Y-yes. Okay.” He did meet her eyes then, brightening. “See, you did it again!”

She frowned. “Did what?”

“Surprised me.” He leaned over her body to tug her into a slow, sweet kiss. When she pulled back to breathe he cupped the back of her neck, holding her close and brushing his nose against hers. “You’re an adventure every day, Gwen,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I’m a real goddamn roller coaster,” she grumbled, shifting her hips upward in a blind search for his touch. “And I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking ride me already.”

David laughed softly against her mouth before turning his attention to her jaw, throat, collarbone — a damp, shivery brush of his tongue against her skin moving down her body. “Well goodness, Gwen, now I’m confused.” She both hated and loved the smug, teasing tone he got whenever her composure cracked. “I could make love to you,” he continued, nipping the skin just below her bellybutton and making her jump, “but I thought you wanted me to do this first.”

He closed his lips around her clit and sucked gently, catching her with an arm behind her back as she arched toward the maddening wet heat of his mouth. Lowering her hips back to the bed with infuriating tenderness, he paused, resting his cheek on her inner thigh and looking up the length of her body. When she met his eyes he smiled, pausing to press a chaste kiss to her leg before returning her gaze.

“What do you want, Gwen?” And he asked it untauntingly. Seriously. Like he wanted nothing more than for her to tell him what to do, and like he’d do it without question.

His sincerity was going to be the death of her, she decided with a groan, burying her hands in her hair and shielding her face from his view with her arms. “Fuck. I don’t know. Everything.”

When it came to David, she always wanted everything.

“That’s a real swell coincidence, then!” He traced the seam where her hip and leg met, then dipped down, dragging his fingertips through the wetness smearing her thighs before swiping them up to circle her clitoris. “Because ‘everything’ is exactly what I’d like to give you.”

She barely had time to absorb the statement before his mouth was on her again, sliding the hood back with his lips before swirling his tongue beneath it and around the exposed clit. It was almost too much, too sensitive, bordering on painful and if he stopped she might actually die; she knotted her fingers in the flimsy sheets to keep from pushing his face harder against her, vaguely aware that she was mumbling nonsensical pleas, an incoherent litany of “oh god yes please fuck don’t stop” —

He didn’t. Without lifting his mouth he braced one hand under her knee and pushed it toward her chest, bending her leg and using two fingers of his other hand to enter her. It took him a second but when he found her g-spot he pressed up hard, stroking with the same rapid pace of his flicking tongue. It was more pressure than she was used to, strangely achy but pleasurably so, and it was impossible not to writhe under his touch as the need to come coiled tighter, dragged her higher, kept her suspended on the brink for a frustrating, dizzying, electrifying moment that stretched like a rubber band…

Then it snapped — a dam breaking, a wave cresting and finally letting gravity take over — and she curled forward with a sob of relief, pleasure rippling through her limbs and turning her bones to liquid, trembling through the aftershocks.

The shift from overwhelmingly perfect to just plain overwhelming was a split second. “Nngh, stop, stop —” She pawed weakly at his head, just barely smacking the edge of his fringe with her fingertips, but he lifted his mouth from her with a look of concern. “You’re fine,” she added quickly, struggling to catch her breath and shivering from the buzz of overstimulation, “s’just too much.”

David nodded, relieved, and sat back, wiping his face with the back of his arm. “Wow,” he murmured, eyes wide and awed. “Wowzers. Gwen, have you ever done that before?”

She sat up, frowning. “Come like a train? Like every time we — whoa.”

The sheets between her legs were wet. Not damp, wet like she’d spilled a glass of water (and cooling rapidly, she realized with a grimace, shifting to avoid the blotchy patch). Presumably the same wetness dripping down David’s chin.

“Oh my god.” She groaned, hiding her face in her hands like if she couldn’t see it, it would disappear. Or feel it slicking her inner thighs. “And uh, not really,” she finally muttered, a belated answer to his question. “Once or twice, but you’ve really gotta work over the g-spot to make it happ --” She glanced up just in time to catch his expression, a flash of recognition mixed with pleased sheepishness. “Which you were.” David quickly looked away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and flushing pink. “On purpose?”

“I -- I’d read about it, that’s all!” he said, meeting her gaze defensively. “I knew it was, well . . . a thing. That some wom- people can do. And I was -- I’ve seen -- I was curious!” Gwen tried to stifle a laugh and failed, turning it into a choking snort, and he blushed even darker. “I know I should’ve just asked, but I couldn’t figure out how to say . . .”

She waited for him to finish the sentence, but when it became clear he had no intention of doing so, she injected as much demented cheer into her voice as possible and chirped, “‘Golly gee, Gwen, could I try making you squirt sometime?’”

Her imitation of his voice was passable -- she’d spent enough years making fun of him to get good at it -- and though he turned his head away she was positive he rolled his eyes at her. “I don’t know if that counts as bad language or not.”

“Oh no. It’d be so shocking if I said one of the no-no words.”

He chuckled, trying and failing to disguise it as a sigh, and climbed out of bed, tugging the rest of his clothes off. (As he picked up his shirt and wiped his face clean, Gwen quickly bent forward and sniffed the damp spot on the mattress. A little like saline, mostly like nothing. Good to know.)

“So how often do you trawl the internet for sex tips?” she asked, grinning. “Or -- god, tell me you’re not checking out books from the library.”

“Of course not!” He looked horrified at the thought. “And . . . sometimes. More often, after we started dating. I . . .” He paused, looking like he was reconsidering the rest of that sentence, and joined her on the bed to lean back against the headboard. “The time you visited, when I -- used my mouth on you for the first time.” (And what was it about his delicate tiptoeing that made it sound so much more filthy than if he’d said it outright?) “I thought -- or, well, I hoped . . . anyway, I did a little reading. Online, obviously. Just in case.”

So that was how he’d been so goddamn good right off the fucking bat. Always prepared, her boy scout. “Well, I appreciate it,” she said, and sat up, throwing one leg over his lap and draping her arms around his shoulders. “Can I please fuck you now, Mr. Greenwood?”

He sucked in an unsteady breath, his cock twitching up against her; the tip of his head slipped between her outer folds, making them both gasp. “C-condom,” he breathed, his voice raspy and uneven, and she scrambled off his lap before she could give in to the voice in the back of her head insisting they didn’t need to stop and get anything, he was right there , if she’d angled her hips right he could’ve been inside her already --

Her fingers were shaking as she retrieved the foil packet and brought it over, letting him take it with relief. (There was no way she wouldn’t have ripped it, with the way her whole body was trembling like the room had dropped ten degrees.) She watched him roll the latex down his cock, unable to tear her eyes away from how beautifully flushed it was, precome beading at the tip and slicking the inside of the condom.

God, she needed him inside her. Immediately.

David caught her with a breathless laugh as she vaulted back up onto the bed, curling his fingers around her hips and holding her steady. “Careful,” he murmured, and she rolled her eyes, fumbling blindly between her legs to line him up. “Have I- hhha --” He cut off, squeezing his eyes shut with a sigh as the head of his cock pressed into her, “t- told you how beautiful you are?”

Gwen frowned. It was kind of hard to focus on the question when her body was fluttering and pulsing as it adjusted to the welcome intrusion. “A lot?” she guessed, sinking down the last few inches too fast and bottoming out with an electric shock of pain and pleasure. “Fuck.”

“No. Not like that.” He slid one arm between their bodies, parting her folds to see the way she stretched around him. “I -- think you’re so pretty,” he managed, gently tracing her inner labia with his fingertips. “I like your colors. And how we -- um, contrast.”

No one had ever told her that her cunt was pretty before. It was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David would do. And he was right; his cock looked so pale against her, where she faded from shocking pink into a dark purplish-brown that lightened as it blended into her normal skin tone. There was something about it that reminded her of a sunset -- which was just the kind of stupid, romantic thing David made her think.

“You’re an idiot,” she said, pressing her forehead against his and raising up a few inches, “and I love you so much.”

“I — love you too.” Suddenly he froze, his eyes widening and his grip tightening around her waist, keeping her from moving.

“David? Everything okay?” God, he wasn’t having some kind of terrible flashback, was he? Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this.

His eyes flicked up to hers, and a wide, sunny smile spread across his face like spilled honey. “This is just like the first time.”

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about, but then it hit her: this was like the night they’d first had sex, from the position to the location to the dizzying, giddy strangeness of it.

God, he was perfect.

“Sort of.” She pressed a hard, quick kiss to his lips before grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging his head to the side so she could reach his neck; he whimpered and twitched twice, each pulse against her inner walls taking her breath away. “Except I know you way better now.” She punctuated the statement by licking a wide stripe up the side of his throat, then sucked a mark right beside his Adam’s apple, where it’d be safely hidden by his bandana. “All your weak points.”

“I—” He swallowed, tilting his head obediently as she trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses up to his ear, “d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She just hummed; that wasn’t worth dignifying with a real response, and the vibrations against his damp skin made him shiver. Instead she toyed with him: tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue, nipping at his earlobe with just a hint of teeth, exploring the delicate area around his ear and neck she knew so well, had staked her claim to a hundred times before.

David’s breathing quickened, roughened, and she had to tighten her grip on his hair to keep him from squirming. Her hips weren’t moving but his were, minute jolts she was positive he couldn’t control. “Gwen,” he gasped, “please, I -- hhit's too much, I can’t --”

“Could you come like this?” she asked, fighting to keep her own voice level. She could feel his pulse pounding in his cock and in his throat, under her lips; her clit throbbed in response, a metronome perfectly attuned to him. “Without me even moving? Or just . . .” She squeezed her internal muscles, clenching around him in a quick staccato pattern, and lapped her tongue against his neck in time.

“Nnno. Or -- yes?” His fingers tightened around her hips, a helpless spasm. “I don’t know. It’d . . . be torture.”

His voice was so low, wrecked, and Gwen’s stomach went into a dizzying, delicious free-fall. “Good,” she said before she could stop herself, think it through and reject it as sounding weird and freaky. David successfully pulled back from her, his eyes wide and blown out with arousal, and he looked so beautiful she couldn’t stop herself from blurting out, “I want to torture you sometime. Nothing you’re not okay with -- and not now, but . . .”

“Yes,” he breathed, and the word was barely out of his mouth before his hand curled around the back of her neck and he was dragging her mouth to his, a kiss made of teeth and desperation with words gasped out against her lips: “yes, god, whatever you want Gwen please I love you --” His other hand slid to cup the curve of her thigh, urge her up onto her knees so he could fuck her properly, pull her back down to set a rhythm that bordered on frantic.

She couldn’t help but laugh, even as she braced her palms against the headboard for better leverage to ride him faster, harder. “Told you,” she teased, biting his lower lip hard enough to drag a breathy whine from him. “Weak.”

That made him moan, drawn-out and broken, and he slipped one hand between their bodies; curling it into a loose fist, he splayed his index and middle fingers just enough for her clit to glide between them, adding an extra jolt of friction every time she moved her hips. Gwen gasped, clutching at his back with one hand as her second orgasm coiled tighter at the base of her spine.

She bit his shoulder because she could, because she had to, because he’d like it and because it was that or scream loud enough to wake the entire camp. “Fuck, god, David --”

He shuddered and buried his face in her hair, his breath hot with a stream of pleasured mumbles beginning and ending in her name --

Gwen didn’t know which of them came first. It didn’t matter, really, because they dragged each other over the edge. His cock was almost painfully hard, unyielding as iron as her muscles tightened and fluttered around it, and the sudden snap upward of his hips as he came nearly knocked her breathless.

She was going to be sore tomorrow. Or . . . later today. She turned her head and mouthed at David’s neck, relishing the sweet-salt taste of his sweat, and let him hold her up as they caught their breath.

“I love you too,” she whispered belatedly. David huffed a weak laugh into her hair, stroking her back with a touch that was light and ticklish. “But we’re sleeping in your room tonight. I don’t wanna deal with the wet spot.”

Yeah, she was going to be sore, and exhausted, and facing a hell of a cleanup both in her bedroom and outside of it.

David groaned and gently pushed her upright, sliding out from under her and taking her hand, like she was a camper who needed to be ushered back to bed. “Phone,” she bleated, weakly reaching for it as they walked past, and he paused to pick it up for her, and in that second she loved him even more, more than she’d ever thought possible.

Worth it.