#it genuinely has to be done tonight i have zero time tomorrow

[immortalsapphics]

i am not done my assignment but the caffeine has worn off and i cant think rn and now i'm debating how self-destructive it would be to have another coffee

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 20

I literally got second-hand anxiety hearing, “How many numbers do you think you’ll have by tomorrow?”. I was like. TOMORROW? They are Not ready. The only reason the rooftop works out is because they’re the fucking Beatles. No one else would pull that out of their butts so well. 

If only John could’ve listened to Glyn about Klein. smh

Classic Paul. Starts out saying “us” ends up just talking about John. “The best bit of us always has been, and always will be, is when we’re backs against the wall and we’ve been rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing. And he knows it’s a take on the dub. And he does it great.” It’s okay, Paul. We all know you like to get him up against a wall. No but seriously, Paul is not okay about John. 

Takes every opportunity to flirt, doesn’t he?

“I can’t wait to work here, you know . . . I mean, here in our life, it’s like home.” It’s the gentleness, yeah. But it’s the focus, too. Most people (I know I would) would be so done with him and his anxiety spirals and his neuroses and over-thinking on and on and on by this point. John probably is, but he shows no sign of that fatigue at all. He is zeroed in on working him through this. He’s done it a million times before, and he’s ready to do it as many more times as Paul needs. Ugh, they make me into such a sap!

“Yeah, well that’s why I’m talking to John, not you.” If Paul can talk like that to George Martin, one of the most respected men in his life, when he’s in the middle of a thing with John, imagine how he must’ve bullied other people that tried to worm their way in. 

That smile he gives George though! That’s how he got away with all his shit, isn’t it? So fucking cute.

“I agree with you, I think it’s disappointing, but all right, we only got to seven. Let’s do seven.” The tone of voice, man. So. Fucking. Gentle. No wonder Paul can't stand the projected "acerbic, tough Lennon" shit. If that was how someone treated you and took care of you? And then everyone acts like that part of them just didn't exist, and emphasizes the parts of them that they themselves hated and actively worked against? Yeah I'd be pretty pissed too.

Glyn reassuring Paul that there’s no reason they can’t come back and do a TV show later. Yeah, fifty years later. 

John’s eyes constantly flicking back to Paul as George is talking . . . 

George really does take so much better care of himself than the other three at this time. Pictured here, silently begging viewers like you to chip in just ninety-eight cents toward his freedom.

I actually think, though, that if Ringo had said he didn’t want to go on the roof either at that moment, that they wouldn’t have done it. I think they look to him for common sense in their decision-making, and Ringo saying he didn’t want to do it really might’ve broken the whole thing.

George’s reaction to Ringo voting for the roof VS John. It’s giving tragic heroine VS villain origin story

Honestly heartbroken at the “I love you, blue”. How many times did John just straight up say those words to Paul only for Paul to be completely unresponsive? That genuinely hurt to watch.

The tiny little looks they give each other. “Okay. We got this.”

“Fuck all that. I’m just gonna do me for a bit.” Good for you, baby. 

“I had a good dream last night, you’re black or you’re white, you want equal rights.” I know some people say it’s hypocritical or preachy or whatever, but I ADORE this John. Look how fucking happy he’s making Billy right now and then talk to me about how John’s political side is meaningless. I think it’s beautiful.

I think it’s actually too embarrassing for them at this point to sing Two of Us without being insane.

“We’re all sleeping at Georgie’s tonight. Get in the mood.” Oh how I wish they actually had. I mean, maybe they did. Someone write the fic!

Oh, the “who knows, Yoko,” moment. It’s so embarrassing. The fact that there was just no response whatsoever. Yeesh. 

So many nerves when I saw the camera zooming into that circled date with “Rooftop Concert” written on it. What is wrong with me?

[terrence-silver]

Does Terry (any era) do anything in particular when beloved tries the "not tonight, dear, I have a headache" line to get away from his incessant libido?

---

― Twig is genuinely worried about his partner and their headache, possibly blowing the issue out of proportion to some degree or other; he's genuinely out here to fix it, though. Make it better. Give them medication. Bring up a glass of water to their mouth like they're a child. Latching unto them. Incessantly inquiring if they need anything --- if he could possibly do anything to help them. Fussing around them. Worrying. Overworrying and overthinking it, even. He'd devotedly adjust the pillow under their head and tucks them in with a blanket, if need be, so they could be as comfortable as humanly possible. Anything beloved needs, always. There's still something weirdly boyish and innocently childlike to a young Terry's loyalty, regardless if this is him before Vietnam or after it. He wants to do good and right by the people he cares for and this is evident in his acts of service that just beam through him at times. For some reason, I just imagine Terry laying down beside beloved on the bed, on his side, facing them and giving them a worried puppy look, outright waiting for their headache for pass diligently and frequently asking if it eased up at all, setting aside how turned on and frisky he might be. In fact, he could very well wait all night and just not sleep. Long after beloved's dozed off with exhaustion, Twig is still there, eyes open, watching them and acting as their personal guard, hoping they're better now or at least will be once they wake up, when it's fully evident he'll continue fussing tomorrow as well and possibly in the days that follow too. Best not tell him anything aches, regardless if it's true or a lie because he'll truly take the problem to heart as much as a person can take a problem to heart and he won't rest until it's fixed.

― Terry Silver in the 80's is going to tell beloved sex cures headaches. No. Really. It does. Didn't they hear? He'll tell them this and he won't even bat an eye even as he says it. An orgasm releases the tension from the muscles, opens pores, strengthens the core, relieves the chakras, turns the skin elastic and shiny, heightens serotonin receptors and makes the head feel light and easy. It overall tends to fix one's mood too. Has one living longer. Terry has his manipulation down to a science; beloved's being had, but my god if this man won't be capable of going to exact detail and making his reasoning on why he'll fuck beloved in spite of their headache sound outright logical to the degree they might even consider it, because they way he phrases it...well, it sounds so reasonable and believable, doesn't it? Might just convince them it's precisely because they ain't having sex five times a day that they're having a headache in the first place seeing as how it's one of the body's prime necessities in life, much like food and water. This is just their physique telling them they lack something and that something's him, of course. No use in fighting it. It's not Terry Silver saying this. It's natural instinct. Duh! By the end of it, he'll outright philosophize beloved into sex and giving him what he wants, when he wants it, headache or no headache. If it miraculously stops hurting once he's done he'll use that as a testament to the fact he was right, as always. Beloved might even thank him and he'll relish taking the gratitude, acting a bit humble even as he eats it up. If it doesn't stop hurting, he'll just multitasking by phoning Margaret into calling over a doctor while he prepares for the next round with beloved meantime.

― Old man Terry might just openly call out beloved on their trick with zero hesitation and a smile plastered all over his face, saying something of the likes of 'You're really gonna use the headache excuse on me?' maybe adding something in the nature of 'You can do a lot better than that.' because thing is, at this stage in his life, Terry might just be more blunt and no-nonsense than he's ever been before. Of course beloved's attempts amuse him. Of course he sees it as a challenge fuel. As an excuse to toy with them even further. An invitation, of sorts, to do what he wants anyway and break down their barriers. A game of sorts. Of course he's unfettered. Entertained. But, simultaneously, he'll fully and entirely let beloved know that he knows, that in fact, there's nothing that ails them and they're simply, for the lack of a better word, bullshitting him. Makes him wonder why, though. Has he been exhausting them? Now there's a thought that makes his ego swell even further and having him want to just downright break them. Or is it something that could blindside him and this is one of many signs that they're trying to put distance between him and themselves, because things like this...they always start out small. As small as a headache and saying 'no' to sex. The devil's in the details. And ah --- there it is. Now it stopped being quite so amusing. Terry's glee can very quickly turn sour as he overthinks and takes the rejection to heart, letting his own thoughts pollute him and conjure up prospects of betrayal when there are none. Don't you want him anymore? Paranoia running rampant, man can go anywhere from hitting the bottle, to grieving, to genuinely keeping an eye out for you and taking precautions in case you're planning to leave him.

[andhyssops]

hey, hey, me and a friend have been playing minutes man together reading parts like a playscript. I just wanted to say it's absolutely fantastic. your writing for every character is absolutely on point, but especially for Tommy and Ranboo. tonight we got the see you tomorrow ending, the backbone ending and tommyinnit tried to swim in lava. and gods that last one was rough. I'm a total sucker for angst so I was loving it, but the sheer feeling of dread as soon as they arrived at the fortress was overpowering. acting Tommy's lines was so hard but so good because they perfectly captured that exile atmosphere of light feeling with the darkest undertones that slowly but surely made their way to the surface. we finished playing over two hours ago but it has not left my brain since. just, all of the exile stuff was so well done; dream, the moment with Mushroom Henry, when Ranboo got back to Logsted the next day I immediately zeroed in on the fact Tommy had more bandages on his arms. I love love love this game and I can't wait to play more to get the beeduo endings and also replay lava ending again and just. sit back and enjoy the storytelling. thank you so much for this game :)

so i held onto this in my inbox for a long time, sorry about that, it just. srsly means a lot to me. like I know that 90% of my answers to asks abt glmm have been some variation of "Thank you for playing" but it srsly means sm to me that ppl not only played my game but also took the time to tell me how much they enjoyed it. its genuinely so crazy to me that yall like. played it with friends!!! I'm so so glad you enjoyed it.

glmm is at a little over 45k downloads now which is seriously insane because i expected it to get maybe 500 plays. I know it's been a few months and I don't wanna be one of those ppl who dwells forever on their one hit wonder project but like. yeah it's been super super cool to get so much positive feedback for something I put so much effort into. tysm for the kind words and thank u for playing and also I hope u liked the beeduo endings. cbeeduo in gay love forever and ever

[shoutogepi]

Taking Care of Their Drunk S/O After a Girls’ Night Out

with Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou 

genre : [ ☀︎ ]  fluff!! & a tiny bitta steam~

hc prompt : how would he take care of you if you come home wasted after a girls’ night out?

author’s note : this is my first time writing headcanons!! idk if this is good hc material but lemme know what you think! :) **gif not mine!!

bakugou:

first of all, blasty is annoyed that you’re going out and ditching his elderly ass at home. it’s a wednesday night so who in their right mind would be going to the club?? sure it’s your close friend’s birthday but they couldn’t just push the celebration to the weekend like a normal person?

sure you have work tomorrow but you’re young enough and it’s your friend’s birthday, they just went through a breakup so you just wanna be there for them, physically and emotionally. and bakugou gets that, but he’s still gonna be crabby about it cuz he usually drags you into bed at like ten pm.

more importantly, he likes to have you tucked up in his arms, nose in your hair and tbh your ass on his crotch. it’s just so much easier to fall asleep knowing you’re safe and there with him, and even though he complains about it, the sound of your gentle snores really lull him into slumber.

therefore he has a hard time falling asleep just because you’re not with him, but then the fact that he’s in his large bed and you’re out and about, looking killer in that sexy clubbing number... he’s gnashing his teeth and twisting in the sheets no doubt. knowing you’re most likely very far from sober doesn't really help either. and just thinking of all the creeps that’re probably eyeing up every inch of skin, every curve hugged perfectly by that black sleek dress he usually loves but really despises right now… ugh, he just can’t sleep with his blood boiling like this.

so of course he’s still awake, very agitated may i add, when scratching noises at the door start at two thirty in the morning.

you’re pathetically attempting to open the front door, but the key to the apartment is almost identical to the lobby key and then… the elevator key is there too and oh my goshhh the mailbox key is so small it’s hilarious!! like it’s a baby or something and idk you’re just vibing, laughing at the mini object drunk off your ass.

and a disgruntled katsuki swings the door wide open while you’re giggling at your fucking keychain like an idiot.

caught like a deer in headlights, your expression actually makes his frown melt into an amused smirk, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “hey dopey, what’s so funny?”

shaking off the embarrassment, you throw your arms into the air and close your eyes, a great big grin on your lips as you loudly cheer his name.

katsuki has a huge weak spot for you and you just look so genuinely happy to see him that he doesn’t bother to make fun of you further, he just slips an arm around your waist and gathers you inside.

he asks how your night was while he bends down to take off your shoes, instructing you to lean on the door for support because you’re all wobbly and clearly not capable of standing upright on your own. god, how did you even make it back by yourself in one piece?

once the shoes are off, he scoops you up like you weigh nothing. years of training have paid off, i mean, his biceps are probably the same circumference as your skull so… it makes sense that he’s able to carry you so easily but it still blows your mind every time he does it.

sets you on the edge of the bed, kissing your forehead when you ask if he’s always had such sparkly eyes. oh, how they shine in the moonlight. lmao you’re a cheesy drunk. he shakes it off with the classic bakugou tch but you know deep down he loves it.

he takes off your constrictive clothing so all you’re left in is your underwear, and yeah his eyes linger because you’re literally perfect to him. but it’s like three am now and he just wants to get you ready for bed, so he puts one of his ground zero shirts on you because he doesn’t trust himself to not escalate the situation with you sitting naked in front of him like that.

has you sit on the sink counter in the bathroom while he hands you your toothbrush, toothpaste already squeezed out and bristles wettened. as you very sloppily brush your teeth, complaining about how the mint flavor is “too spicy”, he’s busy getting out the makeup remover and wipes.

he watches you do your little routine every night so he’s well versed in what to do. he ties your hair back and you’re surprised, like, how does he know how to tie a girl’s hair?? you figure it’s from past experience so you let him know your thoughts.

he’s red from ear to ear with blush, and he adamantly explains that “it’s not that hard to do, smartass, i didn’t learn from that.”

is all pouty and grumbly as he swipes the cotton pad across your face but his touch is sweet and so careful, loving. you lean into him like a cat, and he gets even redder because fuck you’re really cute.

after you’re done brushing your teeth, katsuki hands you a glass of water and tells you to drink it, or else you’re not getting any cuddles tonight.

“slow down dopey— i didn’t mean all in one go!”

he puts on your skincare stuff too, and he even rubs it into your skin in the right direction and pressure.

you just kinda sit there and then suddenly you’re tearing up because your man is so considerate ?? and gentle?? and he’s just, ugh, perfect and all yours and you’re just really in your feelings all the sudden.

katsuki is shook when he stops focusing on rubbing the moisturizer into your neck to see tears gathering along your lower lashes.

“hey, what’s wrong, princess? did something happen? do you feel alright?”

you just pull him close and hold him tight. and katsuki is the smartest guy you know, he picks up all your social cues. so he softly wraps his strong arms around you, calloused fingers rubbing into your scalp.

“i just really love you,” you whimper, muffled his now damp shirt. “i’m sorry for keeping you up, i meant to just sneak in and slide into bed. you don’t have to do all this.”

he’s quiet for a moment before he squeezes you carefully, letting out a low sigh. “you worry too much, baby. you know i’d do anything for you...” he leans back and his thumb rolls over your wet cheek, eyes half lidded and a small, sincere smile on his lips, “and, i really love you too.”

kirishima:

kiri isn’t really the type to get super overprotective, and he does his fair share of partying so he is more than understanding when you tell him you’re going to the club with the girls.

he does pout a little when you tell him he can’t come, but he quickly accepts the fact because he understands it’s “girls’ night” and he probably wouldn’t want to be there for that anyway. although he does quip out a small comment about how sexy you look in your clubbing outfit, and how much sexier it’s gonna look on your bedroom floor later on.

safe to say you leave the house with a blush on your cheeks and a little heat between your legs.

you’re out with the 1A girls tonight— you’d all stayed pretty close after graduation and somehow you’d finally managed to get a night that all of you could attend. you can’t remember how many rounds of shots go by, and by the time the club is closing, your friends are all in various stages of drunkenness.

tsuyu and ochaco are playing some children’s hand game and singing along to it while they clap their hands together incessantly, jirou and hagakure are stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk as some kind of competition and yelling in indignation, and mina and momo have their arms around your shoulders as they debate what would be tastier right now: takoyaki or taiyaki.

honestly you keep tripping up on the words because they sound so similar, so the conversation just keeps going in circles until one of you finally decides to call a cab.

it’s about one in the morning— the group had left the club to get a snack before the easy mart across the street closed and you’d each gotten probably too many foods, your eyes bigger than your stomach.

kirishima laughs when you walk into the apartment, wobbling a bit with the (surprisingly full) plastic “thank you!” bag swinging around in the air.

“hey babe, whatcha got there? woah now—“

he reaches out and catches you before you tumble over, a red brow raised teasingly at your questionable balance.

“you alright baby?”

his voice is always deep, but it sounds even more intoxicatingly velvety in your drunken stupor, and all you do is give him the eyes with your tongue poking out between your lips.

he laughs at you again, nodding and whispering a “later, eager girl” in your ear as he sits you down on the couch, large hands fiddling with the straps on your ankles.

kiri frowns as the heel comes off, angry red marks marring the top of your foot, the back of your ankle faring even worse with a blister rubbed raw laying there.

you hiss when he touches it experimentally, a look of surprise on your face and frustration on his.

“y’know you’re really deadly in those heels babe, but if i’d known they’d hurt ‘ya i wouldn’t have let ‘ya wear ‘em out for so long…”

he disappears into the bathroom for a moment only to come back with the first aid kit. he gingerly holds your foot with one hand, the other dabbing some antibacterial cream onto the wound. he rips the wrapper with his pointy teeth, and you stifle a laugh at his red hero logo littered across the bandage.

he chuckles at your laughter, pressing a gentle kiss to your knee as he repeats the action on the other foot.

once he’s done and you’re all bandaged up, he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs up across his lap.

he is not afraid to stay up late with you— actually, he prefers it because he just loves talking with you, especially when you’re all giggly and blushy because of the alcohol. plus he doesn’t want you to go to sleep still drunk (which he can tell you clearly still are), cuz he thinks you’ll have more of a hangover and it’s not that he doesn’t wanna take care of you tomorrow, it’s that he doesn’t want you to be in any pain if you can avoid it. he is a gentleman after all.

kiri inquires how your night out was, and you inform him of all the fun you’d had with the girls. he nods as he listens, big hands coming to rub your feet with the tiniest bit of strength— just enough to soothe your aching feet.

he tends to your every need;

fetching you an icy water bottle and encouraging you to drink from it frequently— “take another sip for me baby, I’ll add another minute to your massage if ‘ya do— haha that’s it, good girl!”

turning on the fan when you say you’re a little warm— “you’re hot? yeah i know. kidding. lemme get the fan for ‘ya.”

flicking on the TV and putting on your choice of entertainment. he doesn’t mind that it’s that show you love, even if it’s his third time watching this particular episode— “great choice babe, this one’s funny… hey, what’s that look for? of course it’s alright, i love this show!”  

it’s more of a background noise anyway as he talks with you, genuinely enjoying your company and just being there with you. he just wants to chat with you; share your smiles and hear your thoughts from the night, make silly jokes about the show and hear your laugh, lay his cheesy pickup lines on you even though you’ve been his for quite some time now.

and it’s so cute to him how you stumble on your words and amuse yourself when you’re drunk like this, and then when you remember you had bought snacks he swears his heart skips a beat at your squeal of excitement.

“this one’s for you!” you chime happily, hand outstretched and offering the box of pocky to him. his heart melts a little (okay maybe a lot) at your gift— he’d said he was craving chocolate last night and you had remembered, even in your intoxicated state.

gosh, he really loves you.

he’s about to voice the emotion when his thumb brushes over the perfect spot on the arch of your foot particularly hard, and a loud moan erupts from your lips, your brow furrowing and your lip pinching between your teeth.

you share a heated look before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“thanks babe, but the pocky’ll have to wait,” he murmurs as he tosses the box aside, pushing the bag of snacks onto the floor. crawling over your legs with a sharp-toothed smirk on his lips, he growls lowly, a glint in his crimson eyes. “there’s something else i needa taste of now…”

➥ masterlist — thanks for reading as always :)

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[ri-ahhh]

good vibes

sometimes best friends get a little curious

warnings: badly written smut

***

“Gray, can you help me with this?”

Inspired by your best friend’s new affinity for minimalism, you had decided to clean out the junk drawer of your nightstand. You had been hit by one of those random whims to do something productive, and the mess in there had been bothering you for months.

But now, even though it’s practically empty and a good few pounds lighter after removing nearly all of its previous contents, you’re struggling to shove the damn thing back into the nightstand. The solid wood is heavy, and the high of accomplishing something is starting to wear off in wake of the frustration that the stupid thing just won’t go in. It’s like a reverse of the prank Jim pulled on Dwight when he jammed his drawers to only half open; yours will only half shut.

The final straw is when you pinch your finger between the drawer and the corner of the opening in the nightstand, and you let the whole thing fall to the floor with a heavy thump that your downstairs neighbors will most definitely not appreciate.

“Ow, fuck!” you exclaim, holding your finger with enough pressure to keep the throbbing at bay for a moment and to check if your nail broke. “Gray!”

A dark head peaks around the doorframe, handsome features drawn in concern. “What the hell are you doing?” he asks, stepping into your bedroom.

It always takes you by surprise somehow, how much space he takes up in here. He’s shirtless and still slightly sweaty, having taken advantage of your apartment gym while you did your cleaning thing.

You pout at him. “I need help.”

Grayson rolls his eyes and chuckles, glancing at the drawer on the ground as he puts two and two together. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says as he strides next to you and squats down so he’s level with the nightstand.

“Shut up,” you mumble, flushing as you suck the little spec of blood off your cuticle (the biggest casualty from your drawer mishap) and shove his giant, rounded shoulder with the other.

He barely budges, and squints at the open space. “There’s something stuck that must have fallen from the top drawer when you took this one out.”

Before you can even think to stop him, he’s pulling the top drawer — your underwear drawer — out of the nightstand now. And there, right where you left it that morning on top of a pile of skimpy lace and cotton, is your hot pink vibrator.

Grayson stares at it for a moment, and you can tell he’s processing what it is before smirking as you gasp and snatch it away from his curious gaze. “Nice.”

You scoff. “Don’t be gross. Girls masturbate too, Dolan.”

“I’m well aware,” he retorts, eyebrow raised at the way you’re hiding the object behind your back as if he’ll forget about it if he can’t see it. “Fingers don’t get the job done?”

You don’t think you’ve ever blushed this hard in your life. But, after all, it’s just Grayson — he’s your best friend. And, with his track list, there’s probably nothing the man hasn’t seen.

“I keep my nails too long,” you say with more confidence than you really have. “Plus it’s just... better.”

“I’ve never seen a girl use one in person,” he says. He looks at you and cocks his head. “You should show me.”

A purely instinctual bark of laughter escapes your lips. “In your dreams.”

“You are,” Grayson admits, his smile cocky but soft. “Way too often lately.”

You pause and consider that, your belly heating and head swimming momentarily at the idea that you might have some semblance of the same effect on him that he does you. “Only because we’ve been spending so much time together the past few weeks.”

“We can over-analyze the reasons later,” he says dismissively. “I’m serious, I’ve only seen these things in porn. I wanna see first hand what they do that I can’t.”

You can’t resist digging at him a little. “And here I thought fuckboy extraordinaire Grayson Dolan had seen it all.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” he says pointedly. “That implies a certain level of shitty behavior that I don’t believe in.”

“Fair enough,” you concede with a shrug. You really look at him for a moment, and much like the urge to clean, a similarly sudden wave of “fuck it” overtakes you. You bring the vibrator back into sight, and watch him look at it curiously again. “You’re telling me you’ve really never had one of your little girlfriends use this with you in the room?”

“Nope, I swear,” he says with an insistent shake of his head, hazel eyes wide as he realizes you’re maybe about to actually agree to his suggestion. “Please?”

Are you really about to say yes to this? You take in his shirtless self, muscles bulging from their recent exertion, skin a leftover honey bronze from the summer, eyes warm, lips pink and inviting...

An idea hits you.

“Fine,” you say, crossing your arms and smirking up at him. “But you have to do it with me. Jerk off, I mean. It’s not fair if I show you mine but you don’t show me yours.”

His arched brows shoot up into his flop of hair with surprise, but it only takes him a second for a wide, crooked smile to break across those lips you were just admiring. “Deal.”

You roll your eyes, but the grin won’t leave your lips. “That was way too easy.”

“What can I say? I have no shame,” Grayson shrugs, dropping the drawer he was still holding onto your bed. He reaches down and picks up your favorite leopard-print thong, letting it dangle from two of his thick fingers. “These are cute, by the way.”

“Don’t push your luck here,” you warn, only half-joking; you’re still a little cautious about this whole plan, no matter what your pussy is telling you right now at the thought of seeing Grayson completely naked.

He follows you without question out to the living room. You choose the couch rather than your bed for a couple of reasons. Easier to see. Less intimacy. He can take his pick of which one he wants to think was your driving force behind it.

You settle on one end of the couch, and he the other. You’re surprised to see the half-hard outline of him already through his sweats, and it’s truly pathetic how fast it has you clenching your thighs together.

“How do we start?” you ask, head tossed back with an embarrassed, breathless giggle. Your toes wiggle next to his against the middle seat cushion. “I didn’t think this far.”

When you look back at him, Grayson is staring at you with a surprising intensity. He’s got a palm over his sweats, right over his dick, and your eyes are drawn there for a hot, sticky second. His hand itself is turning you on, wide and veined and masculine.

“Let’s talk,” he finally says, drawing hour gaze back to his handsome face. “What do you like?”

“What do I like?”

“Yeah. Like... what’s your favorite position?”

You’re catching on. It’s not the most conventional dirty talk, but the simplicity in just learning these new things about him so casually is kind of hot in its own right. The thought alone makes your nipples tighten behind your shirt — his shirt, you’re just now realizing.

You hope he can see them through the thin white fabric as you answer, “Doggy.”

“Mm.” The corner of his lips turn up in a quick smirk and his hand starts to move over his crotch in slow strokes. “I think I like missionary most, to be honest. The kind where I’ve got her legs pushed back or over my shoulders. Super deep. Eye contact. All that.”

Fuck. “So we’re opposites,” you grin, and to Grayson’s visible approval you allow your legs to open some — his eyes zero in on your center, hidden beneath your tiny sleep shorts. “Do you eat pussy? I can’t get the vibe if you do or don’t.”

He looks genuinely offended, and pauses the motion of his hand, eyes meeting yours again. “Of course I do. Wait, do you really get the impression that I wouldn’t?”

You shrug and drop a palm to rest low on your belly. “I just have it on good authority that Ethan does it very well and very willingly. And you guys are so opposite. You just never know.”

Grayson deadpans you, his breathing picking up along with the movement of his hand again. “Are you asking me to eat you out? Because that sounds like a challenge you know I can’t refuse.”

“No. I like the idea of being your first ‘something,’” you say. Grayson’s dark eyes glance to the object in question clutched in the grasp of one hand, then follow the fingertips of your other as they start to trail lightly across your waistband. The heat of his gaze makes your pussy throb, and you’re actually getting more and more excited about this. “And I thought tonight was about what you can’t do.”

“Tonight, maybe. But then there’s always tomorrow,” he says, voice low and gruff. He squeezes his dick through his pants and growls a little. “Fuck. Can we — fuck, your tits look so cute in my shirt. And it’s taking everything in me not to rip off those damn shorts.”

“You wanna see my pussy?” you ask in an almost-whisper, lip caught between your teeth. His words and the neediness behind them flood you with confidence and desire. The vibrator is warm and heavy and apparent in your hand, calling your name as your body heats steadily at the sight and sound of Grayson a mere six feet from you.

“As much as you wanna see my dick,” he counters, and his fingers finally hook teasingly in his own elastic waistband.

You’ll feed his ego, if that’s what he wants. You’d expect nothing less from him — and, to be fair, he’s not wrong.

“That must be a lot, then,” you say, and then you’re both pulling down your pants and underwear until you’re naked from the waist down and he is completely.

Your legs close shyly once your bottoms are discarded to the floor, the hand cupping your pussy trapped between your thighs. You’re nervous again for a few seconds, but then you see his cock wrapped loosely in his big fist, and you can’t help but relax again.

Dicks are ugly, in a general sense, but not Grayson’s, you think. Long and thick, ridged on the shaft and swollen at the tip. You instantly think about what it would taste like, or feel like buried inside you. Because he’s definitely got the vibrator beat in that department.

“Lemme see,” he murmurs.

You take a deep breath and obey, knees still bent but parted as you move your hand from completely covering your center to tracing the smooth skin with your middle finger. Grayson groans, and his hand leaves his dick long enough for him to spit in it for lubrication when he instantly returns it there.

“I can see how wet you are,” he says, and you wonder if he’s even talking to you or just making an observation.

You answer him anyway. “You have a nice dick.” Your fingers migrate to your clit, and you twitch with a little gasp. “Big. I always kinda wondered if you were just compensating.”

“Of course not,” he grins, and it just makes him way too sexy. His teeth gleaming in the low light of your living room, tattoos covering his legs — one of them bent on the couch and the other planted firmly on the floor, muscles hard... you don’t even realize you’re sucking your fingers into your mouth so they’re nice and wet when you bring them back to your clit to start rubbing slow circles in time with the strokes he’s giving his cock.

“Damn,” Grayson mutters. His eyes are wide and fixated on your pussy, and his hand starts moving quicker. The beats of his chest pick up, too. “Can you use it now? Please?”

You nod, starting to feel desperate for release yourself. You push the button a couple of times until the silicone buzzes to life on a medium setting; there’s enough teasing going on between you and Gray, and you don’t need anything other than a good, steady vibe to help get you to the edge.

“This isn’t gonna last long,” you admit, gasping when you trace it against your pussy so it can become coated in your arousal.

If Grayson responds, you don’t hear it, because as soon as you directly stimulate your clit with the vibrator, your mind is going blank as you moan wantonly. Definitely not going to last long.

He speaks, and your eyes open at the sound of his gravelly voice. They lock first on the rapid pumps of his fist over his cock, then on his face with his brows drawn and his jaw clenched.

“Feel good?”

“Really good,” you whimper, tugging on your nipple through your shirt with your free hand. “God, you’re so hot, Gray.”

“Yeah?” His voice turns a little whiny in the sexiest way possible, but still low and a hardwire to your pussy. “You’re fuckin beautiful. Can’t believe I get to see you like this.”

You moan quietly and press a little harder with the vibrator and finding the perfect spot with the perfect pressure. Your back arches and you instinctively fling a hand behind your head to find a grip on the back cushion of the couch. “Fuck!”

“Oh, shit, are you really gonna cum already?” Grayson asks in disbelief.

You whine out mindlessly in affirmation. Your breaths come sharper, you moans higher pitched. The wet noise of Grayson’s fist moving faster and faster on his cock prompts you to let your eyes open to watch him, and all it takes for you to fall over the edge is to watch him watch you.

Your legs shake and you whine pretty moans as the continuous vibrations drag out your orgasm perfectly. You come down just in time to hear the rough groan and raspy grunts of Grayson cumming too, and open your eyes to the glorious sight of his head tossed back so his thick neck is open and begging to be sucked on. His balls are drawn tight, abs clenching, fingers and chest painted with white streaks that you’re kind of sad you missed.

Something tells you this might not be your only chance to see it happen, though.

You turn off your vibrator when you become far too sensitive to take any more and toss it to the side. Your body slumps into the couch cushions, and the room is silent other than both of your heavy breathing for what feels like ages as you both come down.

Grayson shifts at the end of the couch, and it prompts you to do the same. You reach to the floor for your shorts and pull them hastily back up your legs, mind still hazy as you sit up and tuck your legs beneath you. You stare at him unashamedly, not feeling nearly as awkward as you think you should, all things considered.

Gray pulls his underwear on, and reaches his hand out to you. You take it with a sheepish little grin, and let him pull you closer.

“So, be honest, was it really the vibrator that made you cum that fast, or did I have any part of that?”

You laugh and slap his chest playfully. “Maybe when I find out what your mouth can do, I’ll consider you competition for the vibrator. You need to be knocked down a peg or two, Dolan.”

“Hm. Well, like I said, we always have tomorrow.”

[sazc94]

Pietro and Bunny

HELLO

Here is my second entry for the wonderful @msmarvelwrites 2k Challenge.

This a spin-off from my Bucky fic: The three times Bucky broke your heart. Part 1 linked Here.

It follows the same timeline and explores the relationship of Pietro and Reader (Bunny) More.

Words 6034

Themes. Angst, Suggestions of smut. But mostly lots and lots of fluff. 18+ Because of the smut suggestions.

This has two parts and I will upload part 2 tomorrow.

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲?"

Pietro thought you were pretty cool. He thought you and Bucky made a great couple. He enjoyed hanging out with you when you would all hang out as a group. Pietro wasn’t one for girlfriends. Sure he’d had a few semi-serious flings and would occasionally bring a date to the parties after a game and loved how you would instantly make anyone feel welcome. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he started to think of you as more than a friend. It was sometime during his senior year.

At first, he pushed the idea out of his head. You were Bucky’s girl Y/N! You were the cute shy girl Bucky had brought out of her shell, who was still deep down that adorable musical theatre-loving dork. However, when Bucky started getting defensive around him and Sam about who he was texting, Pietro stopped feeling so bad about liking you of course Pietro would never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with Bucky and his friendships with either of you, but he couldn’t help but feel a tang of jealousy towards Bucky.

2010

“Look at Bucky, can’t go 5 minutes without texting his little cheerleader,” Sam said walking up behind Pietro. Bucky was too engrossed in his phone to pay any attention to the pair of them. Pietro smirked.

“Sam, watch this” Pietro said, before breezing over to Bucky and pulling his phone out of his hands. Bucky instantly shot up trying to grab the phone from Pietro, however, he was too quick throwing the phone to Sam.

“Dear Doll, I love you so much and all thought I only saw you this morning, I am already missing you” Pietro sang in a teasing manner.

“Come on guy’s give it back” Bucky grunted. Sam and Pietro kept throwing the phone between them. Suddenly Sam stopped laughing.

“Hey Buck, who’s Nat and why is she asking if you’re going to be around this summer?” Sam asked his eyebrow shooting up. Bucky’s façade faltered for a second. His usual bright blue eyes deepening with an unfamiliar expression. Pietro’s interest was also piqued, he may have wanted you for himself but that didn’t mean he wanted to see you get hurt.

“Oh, she’s just a friend of Jane’s. I met her at that party after our game in Green Bay last year she’s a cheerleader like Jane and Y/N. Natasha and her boyfriend Clint will be in town the summer and she wants to introduce us apparently her boyfriend was impressed with how we played” Bucky said, shrugging it off like it was no big deal. After that incident, Bucky was on his phone around the football team less and started talking about how much he loved you and couldn’t wait to spend some quality time with you in the summer.

November 2011

By the time graduation rolled around Pietro had put any thoughts about the pair of you out of his mind, chalking it up to wanting a relationship as opposed to you. At least that’s what he kept telling himself. You came along to his graduation ceremony. Well, it was for everyone. Pietro, Sam, Wanda, Jane, and Carol. Bucky came along too. Late. But you were there with Peter Parker who was a freshman, he had talent, but he seemed to prefer being behind a camera as opposed to on the field.

The whole gang hung around the field and bleachers after the ceremony. Goofing off and enjoying the last time the group would all be together like this for a while. Peter took photos of you all. Pietro’s favourite was one where he and Sam had picked you up whilst you were in the middle of talking to Carol and Wanda. The laughter that came out of your mouth as you squealed and shouted for the two footballers to put you down made his heart flutter.

Okay so maybe he wasn’t as over you as he told himself he was. Now he could understand what that Taylor Swift was banging on about in that song of hers.

Have you ever thought just maybe?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Bucky’s girl,” he said grinning at you. For some stupid reason, probably because Pietro didn’t know what to do with his hands, he ruffled your hair like you were 5 again. He couldn’t help but notice you wince at the old pet name. He mentally kicked himself. Why had he called you that?!

Graduation was the last time he saw you for over a year. Unlike Bucky, Pietro had actually been away at a football camp when Bucky had cheated on you. He didn’t know what had happened. Only knew you two had broken up. Wanda was fiercely protective of her friendship with you and didn’t want to betray you by admitting to those that didn’t know that Bucky had cheated on you. He wasn’t going to lie; he was saddened when you didn’t stay in touch with him after he graduated. But after he started his first year at the University of Michigan, he didn’t have much time to worry about it. He was a Line Backer having secured a football scholarship after college scouts came to see Sam and a few others play, Pietro had caught the eye of the scout from the University of Michigan, all though he was a great player, Pietro didn’t want to play professionally like many of the guys on the team. He was studying Business and Economics.

Since about the age of 15, he and Wanda had always planned on going into business together. Between parties, flirting with the pretty cheerleaders and sorority girls and his studies you became a distant memory to Pietro. That was until one November game in his second year.

The Wolverines were playing the Wisconsin Badgers. Boy did they suck. Not that Pietro minded it allowed him the opportunity to watch the cheerleaders, he knew a few of the girls on the team from various parties, he hadn’t paid much attention to the new girls on the squad. Then out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone who looked familiar to him. Could it be Y/N? Wanda had mentioned something about you getting a scholarship at Uni for your cheerleading, but he’d been in the middle of a game of Mario Kart with Sam at the time.

He tried to rack his brain’s but then the ball came towards him. He smiled to himself. Showtime Pietro. The game was an easy win. Whilst his teammates cheered Pietro made his way to the side-lines, desperate to know if the girl he’d seen earlier was you. His heart skipped a beat when he heard your familiar laugh. He couldn’t believe it. Pietro came jogging up towards you determined to chat.

“It’s just Y/N” or you can call me cutie you said winking at Pietro, he chuckled.

“How about I just call you tomorrow?” he retorted, you felt yourself blush. Pietro may come across as confident but inside he was shaking with nerves. Was he really doing this? What if you said no? You shrugged before pulling out a sharpie from your bag, you wrote down your number on his arm. He cocked his head puzzled.

“I changed it last year after Bucky wouldn’t stop blowing it up with apology texts,” you said simply wrongly presuming Pietro knew what had gone down. Before Pietro could respond you ran off to join the rest of your squad and headed for the changing room. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as your laughter rang in his ears whilst you walked off the pitch.

“Pietro! What’s good? How’d your game go tonight?” Sam asked. He sounded buzzed and Pietro could hear the faint sounds of a party in the background. Excellent he thought to himself. Sam was buzzed enough to have loose lips but not drunk enough to be of no use and if he was lucky Sam might not even remember half the conversation.

Pietro got back to his apartment, he had zero clues about what had gone on with you and Bucky. It was obvious due to your remark about him blowing up your phone with apology texts that he’d done something. He weighed up his options. Wanda or Sam? Wanda was his twin, and he knew deep down if he pulled the twin card she would tell him, but then if nothing came of this, he would be opening a can of worms with his sister over nothing.

Then there was Sam, he was still pretty close with Bucky and liked to chat a lot. But ultimately, he was like a brother to Pietro, and he trusted Sam to keep his mouth shut. Taking a deep breath and raking his hand through his Silver-blonde hair he picked up his phone and dialled Sam.

“So Sam you’ll never guess who I ran into cheering on the side-lines of the game!?” Pietro tried to sound breezy and cool like it was no big deal, despite the fact he was about to ask his friends ex out on a date.

“ I ran into Y/N. You know Bucky’s girl?” Pietro carried on forcing his voice to sound light. Sam choked on his drink down the other end of the line.

“I wouldn’t let her hear you call her that. That boy broke her damn heart, the fool” Sam said, there was an edge to his voice that Pietro almost missed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Pietro asked genuinely curious.

“Well remember that little party your sister threw that last week of summer whilst you were away at football camp with some of your new teammates?” Sam asked. He didn’t wait for Pietro to respond before he continued.

“Well, Jane brought her friend Nat along” Sam continued. Pietro took a sharp intake of breath. No, Bucky wouldn’t have been stupid enough to kiss her at a party with your mutual friends, would he?

“Well turns out that Clint guy Bucky talked about wasn’t her boyfriend he was just a really good friend. But by the time we found that out Jane realised both Bucky and this Nat chick hadn’t been seen for at least a good 15, 20 minutes. So, she went to go find Nat. Only to walk in on them fucking. Oh yeah, it was on your bed bro”, Sam finished his story like it was no big deal. Other than the telling disdain in his voice.

Pietro stood stunned. No wonder you had winced at the use of your old nickname. Pietro’s heart broke for you at that moment. He vowed at that moment that no matter what happened between you both, he would do everything in his power to ensure you never had to feel heartbreak like that again.

Pietro will never forget that first date with you. He had come up with some lame excuse of showing you the best-hidden beauty spots of the campus. Not that there were any, he just wanted an excuse to spend some time with you. He wore jeans and a jumper with his beat-up converse.

All though it didn’t look like he had put much effort into his outfit he had spent a good hour agonising over it. In the end, he settled for a faded blue jumper hoping it would make his eyes and hair pop. He met you by the school library and the sun was shining, it was still a chilly November mid-morning.

You had turned up with your hair tied up in a messy bun a few stray pieces framing your cheeks, you had opted for a sweater dress. He remembered because it was loose and comfy but sinched inwards in all the right places. It was a silvery colour almost the same shade his hair was. Pietro swore you took his breath away.

Winter Break 2011

“And that right there is where the fraternity pledges had to stand and sing, I’m a little teapot every time someone put 10$ in the bucket. I didn’t truly understand the strange British Nursery Song or whatever it was, but I did like watching the pledges get embarrassed every time they had to sing when the cute cheerleaders walked past. So, I put 40 Bucks in the bucket when I knew the 3rd Years would be heading to practise” Pietro said pointing to the school statue.

You had nearly fallen over laughing at his story. Pietro noticed how you scrunched your nose up when you laughed. Like a rabbit. No like a Bunny. When Pietro walked you back to your dorm, he wasn’t sure if he was going to kiss you, but when you let him hold your hand, he decided at that moment he would regret it more if he didn’t take the plunge.

The moment he knew he was yours and you were his was at a party, he’d taken you on lots of hot chocolate dates, he knew you didn’t like coffee because it tasted bitter to you and that coca was nice, but you preferred the sweet comfort of a creamy hot chocolate.

It was at a party being held by the Ice Hockey team to celebrate their latest string of wins. You didn’t come to parties often preferring the comfort of a book and a cosy night in, but you always tried to attend parties after the football matches. You walked in wearing a red top and black skinny jeans.

The top wasn’t super low cut, but it hinted at your cleavage, you’d left your hair down for a change in loose curls. You’d recently gotten your hair dyed a deep chocolate brown and it brought out your eyes. Pietro nearly lost his damn mind when his Ice-blue eyes met your chocolate brown eyes after he’d drank all of you in. He excused himself from the conversation he was having with Scott Summers and co making his way over to you.

“Bunny, you look good enough to eat,” Pietro said dipping his head down to meet your lips, your lips were always so warm and welcoming a stark comparison to his cool lips.

“Bunny?” You replied scrunching your nose up. This was the first time Pietro had called you a pet name, you felt your heart somersault.

Pietro was messaging his sister on the drive home. He could tell you had something on your mind, but he knew better than to push you.

“So,” you began.

“What’s up Bunny?” Pietro asked snapping his eyes up from his phone.

“Well, I just thought now might be a good time to talk, we’re clearly going to run into a lot of our old friends, and there’s no way Wanda won’t know something is going on here, and I, I saw your lock screen,” you said. Well yeah Pietro thought, was he meant to be keeping you guys a secret? He didn’t want to, and he had just assumed you were a couple. You did couple type things, watching movies together curled up, holding hands when you guys were out together.

“So you were wondering what we are?” Pietro’s couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. God, you were adorable. He watched your demeanour change and felt a pang of guilt, the determination in your eyes as you tried to not show that you felt embarrassed.

“Hey Bunny, look at me” Pietro grabbed your hand, wanting you to know how much he truly meant the next few words.

“We are a couple. I’m sorry you felt the need to ask, but I adore you, so we are a thing,” he said stroking circles on the back of your hand. You smiled and nodded to yourself. Pietro held on to your hand stroking circles the rest of the traffic. He couldn’t wait to tell Wanda she was wrong about him never getting serious with anyone.

“Hey Wanda, have you got a second?” Pietro and Wanda were heading out to meet up with you and the rest of the old school gang who had made it home for the Winter Break in the local coffee shop.

“Sure brother, what’s up?” she asked shrugging on her red jacket and lacing up her boots.

“So, you know that girl I told you I was seeing?” Pietro asked, you two hadn’t said if you were going to tell people or just let them figure it out, but he at least wanted to give his twin a heads up. Wanda straightened her brown hair falling behind her ears. She impatiently cocked an eyebrow waiting for her twin to continue. They were going to be late at this rate.

“Well, you know her. In Fact, you’re good friends” Pietro continued sucking in his breath.

“If you mean to tell me you’re dating Y/N, I already know brother”, Pietro froze. “I’m happy for you, but if you break her heart like that James did, I will not hesitate to kill you and hide the body” she continued.

“How did you know?” Pietro couldn’t help but ask, you guys hadn’t been a secret, but you hadn’t exactly announced it to the world either.

“I’m good at reading people Pietro” Wanda shrugged before heading out the door.

“You sly dog,” Sam said chuckling. Just then Peter turned up. Sam’s comment hadn’t escaped you, so you simply shot Pietro a quizzical look, one of your eyebrows arched. Pietro gently shook his head. He’d tell you about the phone call later.

It was great hanging out with the old gang, shame about Carol, and Jane being unable to make it back. Bucky was dating that Natasha chick and hadn’t come home from the holidays. Evidently, this wasn’t a surprise to Sam or Wanda. Pietro however was a bit taken back. That was until he heard how his sister had almost killed Bucky when she had run into him last summer. Carol had had to restrain her. Pietro couldn’t lie he was kind of bummed to miss it.

Pietro and Wanda didn’t celebrate Christmas, but they did celebrate being around people they loved and as the four of you sat around waiting for Peter Parker to make an appearance, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell. You hadn’t even reacted to the mentions of Bucky. The way your brown eyes lit up when you teased Sam about his poor season or crinkled your nose when Wanda complimented your new hair, made Pietro come completely undone. Not being able to restrain himself anymore he leant in and kissed you, a slow soft kiss. The taste of your gingerbread cookie and peppermint hot chocolate lingering on your lips. When Pietro pulled away, he shot Sam a wink, and you promptly turned crimson. Sam just sat there gawking. Pietro watched as Sam tried to piece together his hazy memory from that phone call.

2012

Pietro absolutely adored the photo you had gotten him for Christmas, displaying it on his bedside table proudly. He had brought you a stuffed bunny for Christmas, cheesy but it made you beam at him.

“A Bunny for my Bunny” Pietro said shooting you his signature grin. Your heart constricted; it was an adorable soft fluffy powder blue bunny.

After winter break things got crazy busy. The year also seemed to rush by, between keeping on top, your rehearsals for the play. Pietro’s football practises, football matches, nationals for your cheerleading competition. It felt like you had barely any time to breathe. Pietro always looked forward to football games, not because he loved playing which he did, no it was because when you were cheering your face lit up, you always had his number painted on your cheek. Your brown hair always pulled up in a high ponytail, accentuating your big beautiful brown eyes that always looked for Pietro’s ice-blue eyes on the field. Mostly he loved the looks of jealousy he would get from the other team when players would be checking you out. Pietro would always come over for a kiss for good luck when he wasn’t on the field. You always giggled about how Mr cool; the confident cocky big-time football player was such a dork around you. Pietro was fast, sometimes your eyes couldn’t quite make out his movements, all you would see was a flash of his silver-blonde hair that peeked out under his helmet. You had started calling him Quicksilver, originally as a joke but it had stuck.

“So, move in with me for the summer,” he had said, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t a big deal really but the thought of waking up to you every day for the summer made him practically giddy. Pietro continued to stroke circles on your bare legs. He was watching Grease, but he wasn’t absorbing what was being said.

Pietro loved every single second he got to spend with you, but mostly he loved the summer. College football season had finished, school was winding down and it meant he got to sit in those quiet moments with you. Pietro had no plans to go home for the Summer.

Pietro adored you more than he was willing to admit, hell he loved you which is why he was always never going to push you for anything more than you were comfortable with. He was content just kissing you, steamy make-out sessions. He just liked being close to you breathing in your scent, in the winter you always smelt like Vanilla and crushed Rose Petals. In the summer you changed your body spray, and he hadn’t quite been able to pinpoint the smell, but you smelt like Peaches, sunscreen, and sunshine. Okay, maybe not sunshine but he felt the warmth of your presence every time you were together. Pietro knew you were stressing about summer accommodation so he couldn’t help but offer up his place.

“Okay, I’ll move in for the summer,” you said. You picked up the remote and pressed pause on the DVD Pietro had been so focused on trying to play it cool he hadn’t even heard you the first time you spoke. When you started undressing, Pietro didn’t know where to look. Sure, you’d spent nights together, but Pietro always left you to get changed in his room whilst he went to brush his teeth. His eyes couldn’t help but wander over your body as you walked into your bedroom. Pietro inwardly groaned and felt himself harden. Trying to take his mind off what he had just witnessed he pulled out his phone. That’s when you appeared in the door frame, wearing nothing but his football jersey, when it lifted to show the skin of your bare stomach Pietro nearly lost his damn mind.

“Well, are you coming or not handsome?” Pietro grinned throwing his phone on the sofa and closing the gap between you in seconds, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. Pietro was certain that if he didn’t get his way with you right that second, he would combust.

Winter Break 2012

“You love her, don’t you?” Wanda asked Pietro. You were finishing up tech rehearsals, so Wanda and Pietro were enjoying some sibling bonding by cooking Paprikash. Wanda’s eyes narrowed at Pietro who was avoiding eye contact with his sister. He could feel his sisters warm blue eyes boring into him. Eventually, Pietro stopped washing up and turned to face his sister. Wiping his hands on a tea towel he finally lifted his eyes to meet Wanda’s.

“Yes, of course, I do but that’s not a secret, so what are you actually asking Wanda?” Pietro raked a hand through his silver-blonde hair.

“It's obvious you two love each other Pietro, dearly. But you’re in love with her, you would hang the stars for that girl, and when are you going to admit it? You visibly had a thing for her back in high school and you have healed the damage done by James Barnes. So why don’t you let your guard down and tell her how you truly feel?” Wanda asked. Pietro stood there dumbfounded. Had it genuinely been that obvious to people he had liked you back in high school when you were Bucky’s girl? As if reading Pietro’s mind Wanda answered his question.

“You may have fooled everyone else Pietro, but not me” Wanda returned to her cooking and that was the last of the conversation.

“Are you sure your mum doesn’t mind me staying with you guys for winter break?” you asked twiddling your hair nervously. Pietro chuckled lifting your small suitcase into his car.

“Come on then quicksilver, let’s get going before the traffic builds up,” you said shooting him a grin your worries disappearing.

“Yes Bunny, she wouldn’t hear of you staying here alone. Besides, Wanda would rip my arms off if I even thought about coming home without you” he said pressing a kiss to your temple. Pietro had refused to let you drive saying it was his turn as you had driven last year. You still looked unsure tugging at the selves of your red jumper dress as you walked round to the front of his car. Your brown hair fell in loose waves, still slightly damp from your last-minute shower.

Pietro sensed something else was bothering you but didn’t push it. Instead, he hopped up on the bonnet of his car and pulled you between his legs. Pressing his forehead to yours, he uttered a silent promise that his mum would love you and that that the rest of the old gang would be happy for you both like they had all sworn they were. You looked up at him through your big doe eyes and pecked a gentle kiss on his nose.

“So, who did you say was coming tonight again?” you asked. You were standing in Wanda’s room whilst you both got ready for the small hang out Pietro and Wanda were hosting. Pietro had gone out to pick up Sam and Peter Parker and this girl he was bringing, Gwen. Pietro of course had been right about his mum loving you, you’d spent the last four days feeling welcome, included and at home. Wanda and Pietro’s mum had enveloped you into a big hug the moment she met you.

“Sam, Jane, Peter and his girlfriend Gwen. Carol’s coming, I think she said she was bringing her girlfriend. Now put this on” Wanda said handing you a low cut, slim-fitting black sweater dress. You rolled your eyes at Wanda; you were quite happy wearing one of Pietro’s oversized sweaters and your jeans, but you knew better than to argue with her. Just then you heard the door shut.

“It will be great to have so many of the old group back together,” Sam said shrugging off his jacket as he followed Pietro down to the converted basement.

“How are things between you and Y/N?” Sam asked.

“Sam, they’re pretty amazing,” Pietro said, a slight blush forming in his cheeks.

“Okay, that’s good to hear. Did you know Bucky’s in town for the holidays? I text him saying he should come along tonight; I hope that’s okay?” Sam asked. Pietro shrugged, he hadn’t spoken to Bucky since Bucky’s graduation and even then, that had been by phone. It wasn’t that Pietro actively avoided speaking with Bucky, it’s just that Pietro didn’t have anything to say to Bucky.

The pair of you had spoken in great detail about everything that went down between Bucky and yourself last year after winter break, and Pietro could see you still carried the scars from what he had done to when he cheated on yourself. Just then Wanda and you made your way downstairs into the basement. Pietro felt himself harden when he got a good look at what you were wearing. It was going to be a long night whilst Pietro thought the urge to take you upstairs and fuck you senseless. As if reading her brothers thoughts Wanda smirked to herself, a job well done, maybe now her brother would grow some balls and finally tell you exactly how he felt.

“Bunny, you look. Just wow” Pietro said. Sam rolled his eyes, you giggled before walking over to give Pietro a gentle kiss on the lips. You wrapped your arms around him hugging him close before you felt his hardened member. You cocked an eyebrow at him, but Pietro shook his head brushing your hair behind your ears before giving you another gentle kiss.

After about two hours, everyone had relaxed, caught up and were just chilling. Sam hadn’t heard from Bucky, so Pietro hadn’t thought anything more about it, no sense bringing it up to you if he didn’t show.

Sam had also gotten up nudging Pietro, swearing he would beat him next time. Pietro chuckled, that’s when Sam nudged him.

“You sly bastard Parker” Sam practically shouted. The three of them were playing Mario Kart whilst Taylor Swift played in the background, all though he’d never admit to anyone, including no, especially you. Taylor Swift had grown on him over the past year. Mostly because he loved the way you lit up when you sang along to her in the car.

Pietro was so engrossed in his game with the boys he barely registered you getting up off the sofa next to him. Whilst Sam had been busy yelling at Peter for using Banana peels, Pietro had overtaken Sam in the race. Once the game finished Pietro noticed you weren’t next to him. Feeling empty without you snuggled next to him he got up and stretched. He figured you were probably talking to the girls or something.

“Uh, Pietro, you might want to go save your girl from an awkward encounter with her ex” Sam looked pained. He was realising the error of his ways by inviting Bucky along. Pietro just shot him a puzzled look before following Sam’s line of sight. Pietro sucked a breath in.

“Sam, I swear to god if she ends up in tears tonight because of you, I will not hesitate to punch you in the face,” Pietro said before walking off to the fridge where you and Bucky stood.

“Yeah, schools fine thanks Bucky,” you said politely. Pietro’s heart was beating loudly in his chest, he had no concerns about how secure your relationship was, he just wanted to save you from any unnecessary heartbreak when it came to James “Bucky” Barnes.

December 2012 – August 2014

“Hey Bunny,” he said kissing the corner of your head before wrapping his arms around you.

“Hey Buck, long time no see!” Pietro said. Bucky stood frozen for a few seconds processing what he had just witnessed.

“Hey, Pietro Yeah. It's been a hot minute, so you two are a couple? You guys look cute congrats. Oh man, wow is that Peter over there? I barely recognise him I’m going to go say hey. Catch you guys later!” Bucky said practically running over to Peter. You turned around and kissed Pietro.

“Come on Quicksilver, let’s see if I can beat you at Mario Kart,” you said pulling him over to the sofa. Pietro instantly felt himself relax, glad to see that you hadn’t been impacted by Bucky’s sudden appearance. He grinned at you as he let you drag him behind you,

“What?” you said chuckling at his goofy grin.

“I’m just so fucking in love with you Y/N,” he said. Your heart skipped a few beats. Sure, you had both said I love you, but the way Pietro’s ice-blue eye’s shone at you, the way he had phrased it as being in love with you, made your heart squeeze, butterflies erupt in your stomach and all those other cliché metaphors.

“Pietro, I am going to rock you fucking world tonight, because I feel the exact same way”, you whispered in his ear. Pietro’s eyes bulged out of his head. He lent down and gave you a hungry kiss, sending electricity coursing through your body. When you finally broke free from the kiss Pietro, caught sight of Bucky glowering in the corner of the room ignoring whatever it was Peter was wittering on about.

Winter break came and went. Your second year at Uni whizzed past. Pietro even joined you and your family for your annual summer vacation in Miami, your grandparents were getting on a bit, so you decided to skip the summer production of Hairspray. Pietro joined you for two summers of family vacations in Miami. Your Grandma took a liking to him.

“Pietro, so good to see you again,” she said hugging him. “If I was 55 years younger”, she said shooting Pietro a wink. Pietro chuckled and stuck his tongue out at you.

“See I told you that she loved me the most out of all of you,” he said. You rolled your eyes. Pietro was right your grandma did have a soft spot for him. Who could blame her? Pietro was a true gentleman and his muscles stretched out any shirt he wore. His floppy silver-blonde hair and his goody grin. You were truly a lucky girl. He was going to break your grandma’s heart as much as yours when you two ended things this summer.

Saying goodbye to you was going to be one of the hardest things he ever had to do. The pair of you had spent the last week of summer in Florida with Wanda and her boyfriend James also known as Vision. Tomorrow you would both be getting on separate planes and going your separate ways. You were dancing around in the sea not a care in the world.

Pietro loved the way you were in the summer, the stresses of school melted away. You burned easily so your skin always had a very faint sun-kissed glow to it, but the way you were with your family. That was when you truly glowed. The way you blushed when your parents would talk about how proud they were of you. You were an only child, so your cousins were the closest thing to siblings you had.

And boy did your two male cousins pick on you. Teasing you about being smart, your relationship with Pietro. The way you would roll your eyes at them. Pietro’s heart squeezed with adoration when he watched you huddled in the kitchen with your grandma. Oblivious to the fact he was watching your brow would furrow in concentration as your grandma bossed you about in the kitchen whilst the pair of you cooked up some delicious treats.

“You know brother if you asked her to do long distance and wait for you, she would”, Wanda said sitting down next to Pietro. Wanda’s red hair almost looked like fire in the setting sun. Pietro sighed and shook his head.

“I know, but it’s not right or fair on her. She has plans of her own and we will be busy setting up your fashion label in NYC” he said, raking a hand through his hair.

“Besides, She's Cheer Captain, and I'm on the bleachers. She deserves to enjoy her last year, her heart is in Michigan, where her mum and dad are.” Pietro sighed. Just then you came bounding over. Your black bikini just about covering all it needed too. You plopped down on the blanket beside Pietro, your brown hair trying to escape its messy bun. You rested your head in Pietro’s lap. You giggled as he gently bopped your nose. Swallowing down the ache in your chest.

The pair of you stood wrapped in each other’s embrace at the airport, the rest of the world shut out. Pietro breathing in your familiar scent one last time. He didn’t need to hear you to know you were crying. It was taking everything in him not to cry too.

“Be good Bunny, don’t cause too much mischief with Loki and stay in touch. I love you my little Bunny” he said wiping the tears from your eyes. You couldn’t say anything, so you just held him tight and cried. When you finally broke the embrace and Pietro boarded. He wiped away the few tears that had escaped his eyes.

[moreidsdaughter]

finally ready

emily prentiss x female reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1583

“Y/n, are you focusing? We need to get on the jet.” Your wife Emily was saying as you were sitting at the round table for a new case in Montana.

“Yeah, sorry Em I just zoned out for a second.'' You weren’t really zoned out. You were thinking about ways to surprise your wife for her birthday next week, it was her first birthday with you as a married couple.

“Y/n seriously we need to get on, or else Hotch is going to yell at us.” You quickly snapped out of your daze and walked up the stairs of the jet, you often used when traveling to a case. As you were walking you felt something on your hand, so you looked down to see Emily grabbing your hand as you boarded the plane. She gave you a sweet innocent look, which you returned. You both went to sit in your favorite section by the back of the plane, you’ve sat everywhere but this spot was your favorite. It was near the coffee table and next to a window.

After a few minutes Hotch called for everyone's attention. You took a quick glance around at people waking up. “Ok so we know that there were 6 murders done by supposedly the same person. All of them were women 16-22 years old, blond hair, blue eyes, slim,muscular build, all the victims were from the same gated community, and rich. Is there anything we can guess about this man other than the fact that he's a potential serial killer?” Hotch said with a puzzled expression.

As Hotch and Rossi were trying to figure it out with the team, your mind wandered off again. This time it was about the man you're trying to catch, then you got it. “This man was a sadomasochist and assaulted people for his own pleasure.” You had said in the middle of an argument. Derek turned to look at you and back to the rest of the team who glanced at you they realized you were right. Emily kept looking at you with a smile and grabbed your hand in hers. God she was so perfect you thought. Everything about her is perfect. The way she wears her hair, her confidence, the way she is so involved in even just the smallest things.

“Love what are you looking at?” She said in a slightly confused voice.

You didn’t realize that you had been staring at her for so long, “You because you’re perfect” You quickly said slightly flustered that she caught you staring again.

--

You had gotten to the station in Bozeman and were setting up. By now, you were all discussing the motives of the unsub and Hotch was telling everyone what to do. “Prentiss, y/l/n go to the victims houses and talk to the families. Morgan and Reid and I will go to the crime scenes. Rossi, go with the girls” Hotch knew to put you and Emily together by now. It was a natural occurrence how you met actually. It was your first week and Emily was the only one who would talk to you willingly, you’ve been together ever since.

As you were getting in the black Chevy Suburban, you shot Emily a concerned look. Cases involving young girls were always the hardest, especially you were once a young clueless girl only worrying about boys and school.

Emily saw the look in your eyes as she softly touched your face, moving a piece of hair from your eyes. “It’ll be ok love. I know how you feel.” You felt a little better knowing she was there to comfort you.

--

It has been a really long and tiring day but we were able to get some information about the girls. It helped that you and Emily were both younger that could help girls relate to them.

Once you guys had gotten back to the hotel lobby Rossi and Hotch were in a deep conversation about different suit designers.

“Alright guys go get some sleep, hopefully tomorrow we will get somewhere.” Rossi said once the conversation was over.

You and Emily started walking up to your shared room, when you felt Emily’s hand slowly trail down your side.

“Em, stop it! The team is here and it's unprofessional” Emily looked at you with a smirk.

“Prentiss, y/l/n, we better not hear anything tonight!” Morgan said in a jokingly way.

The entire team cracked up including Emily, but you just blushed and ran into your room giggling. Emily came in soon and flopped on the bed, then she rolled off and you both got ready for bed. Emily snaked her hand around your waist, as she pulled your head into your chest. You move your head closer to her boobs.

“My boobs aren’t pillows bub.” Emily chuckled, while she tried to move your head back up.

“I know, but there so soft Em.” You giggled. Then you placed your head back onto her boobs. “No, I like where I am right now.” Your lips turned upwards into a wide smile.

--  

You were sitting on top of an empty desk in the station,resting your head on your wife’s shoulder while she sat next to you sipping steaming hot coffee.” The coffee at this station sucks ass. Zero stars for me” Emily said disappointed as a giggle escaped your lips. “I love you. You know that right?” You whispered into her ear. You knew that you could never explain how much you loved her. She was your world and the only person who could make you genuinely happy by just looking at you.

”I love you too bub. You mean the world to me, and I couldn’t be happier as your wife.” Emily said sweetly. You leaned your head off her shoulder, and gave her a light kiss on the lips. As soon as you pulled away from the sweet and calm moment, Reid, Hotch, and Morgan all came in with a guy in handcuffs.

“Welp, looks like we got a guy. Hotch go in first” you quietly said as you were walking over to the camera so you can watch. Aaron went in and you started to hear yelling.

---

Thirty minutes later, you saw Hotch’s come out bright red and you thought to yourself all he needed was steam coming out of his ears. “We are sending JJ in. She looks like the girls the man has been killing, so if she seduces him he’s more likely to confess.” JJ looks at you and says it's a good idea. She walks over to you and you start to adjust her clothes and hair.

“Here unbutton your shirt a little more. I’ll give you some red lipstick I have in my bag. Mess up your hair.” You were saying as fixing JJ to look the part to try and make the unsub confess to killing the women.

“Ok, we need to go in. JJ let’s go. Thank you y/n.” Hotch was saying as he and JJ rushed into the room. You had yet again zoned out thinking about Emily’s birthday this year, you wanted to get her something special. You were quickly snapped out of your daze to Rossi saying something to you.

“And that, Y/n is why I am the best cook in the world.” is all you heard rest but you pretend to be listening to the whole thing. You decided to listen to Hotch and JJ when they finally came out both bright red.

“We got the little bastard. I need shots. Who’s down?” JJ said as she leaned back in a chair, buttoning up her shirt.

---

You were all at a small midwestern themed bar,everyone was sitting at a table discussing whatever. Then it dawned on you. You were going to have a kid with Emily, she’s always wanted one but you were not ready for the responsibility of one yet. You’re ready to have a family with the person you love most in this world. You brought your focus back to the table but looked at Em and grabbed her hand and smiled.

It was finally the day, Emily’s birthday. Also the day  you were telling her that you were ready to have a baby with her, you were doing something simple; Just going out to dinner at her favorite restaurant and after you would tell her with a little box. When she came home you both got ready and went out. You had a great time and the food was amazing. Once you paid and left you stopped her on a corner and gave her a box, Emily took the box and opened it, she saw what it said on the baby pink lid and cried. “Seriously bub? We can have a mini you and me? It’s ok if you're not ready. Are you serious?!” She cried into your shoulder. “Really bub, I am ready to have a family with you.” You both walked back hand in hand with happy tears streaming down your faces, you knew it and you were finally ready.

[hajimewhore]

Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 2.1k words    ➷Humor, fluff, awkwardness, mild miild nsfw but not explicit, I will say I can only assume this kinda thing happens when you swap bodies lol    ➷ Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, ✈Part 3, Part 4

You initially dreaded the conversation with Hajime’s parents, wincing on the way through the door with a slight panic washing over you. But after a short and pleasant talk with them, you came to find the conversation flowed more naturally than you’d anticipated.

They’re not as doting to Hajime as they are to you, you note, but they’re friendly and pleasant and you feel as if you’re talking to your own family. Much like your own parents wanted a son, Hajime’s always wanted a daughter, so they often acted as your second set of parents. You feel a bit silly in retrospect, they’re as charming as ever with Hajime as they are with you.

They mostly inquire about Hajime’s day, and after a bit you excuse yourself to ‘study’, escaping to Hajime’s room. You’re beginning to feel positive about the next school day after the interaction, confidence boosted.

Who knew you would turn out to be such a good actress, better than you thought! Award winning, honestly. This whole body swap will be a cake walk. You can totally pull off being Hajime!

It seems you can definitely pull off the acting portion, but the sweat sticking to your clothes from your exhausting (emotionally and physically) practice is starting to make you consider the hygiene aspect of the swap. Which, has you feeling wildly uncomfortable.

This cosmic joke, shitty trope of a situation has you experiencing humiliation and embarrassment at levels you didn’t even realize were possible to achieve.

Normally after a grueling practice, you wouldn’t hesitate to hop straight into the shower and blast the hot water over your skin, feeling your muscles and aches soothed. But this isn’t your skin, or your muscles. You’re consistently reminded every hour, minute, and second, that it’s all Hajime. You should feel comforted that he’s definitely experiencing the same emotional crisis as you, but it only serves to heighten your distress.

Cheeks immediately heating at that, you recall the conversation with Hajime from earlier at the park.

“Just... let’s not think about it. And let’s definitely not talk about it. It’s a natural part of life.”

You know full well of the agreement you came to with red stained cheeks, but is there any way you could go without it? And drench yourself with Axe body spray? Or whatever it is guys like to use. You bet it would make a good repellent, no one would want to talk to you if you smelled like that.

You scrunch your nose, dashing the thought immediately, definitely not. Not only would it make you feel gross, Hajime would whack you first thing in the morning, and probably shove you in the shower himself.

‘No big deal, no big deal, it’s no big deal, you can do this!’

You find yourself chanting silent encouragements as you peel your shirt off, pitching it into a laundry basket. When you catch your reflection, a dark pink creeps across your features.

Yep, that’s still Hajime’s face, 

‘Gaaah, don’t look at me like that!’

You press your hands to your face, but you end up peaking through your fingers anyways. The low sweats definitely don’t help, and neither do Hajime’s well defined abs.

You’d been true to your word when you told Hajime you hadn’t seen anything, but now you’re a little desperate to know what the deal is downstairs.

You won’t look. You shouldn’t.  You don’t look. You definitely do not look.

You look,

pulling the sweats down, and shoving the briefs just past your thighs, you bite your lip at the revelation.

Okay.

Alright.

This is fine.

This is totally fine.

Hajime is just secretly packing.

WHAT THE FUCK?

You suppose it wasn’t necessarily a secret, it was always assumed of Hajime. You’ve also been privy to the third years’ cock talk at lunch, and he always did exude big dick energy, but damn Hajime.

Wait. Are you—

NOPE.

NOPE NOPE NOPE YOU ARE NOT DEALING WITH THIS RIGHT NOW.

You cover your face again, a recurring action today it seems, cheeks burning rampant and hotter than ever before. You feel a prickly hot and itchy feeling light a fire up your back to your neck, the heat of pure, unbridled, embarrassment coursing every vein.

Were you... getting a boner?

NOOOOOOO.

From being turned on by Hajime? While you are Hajime?

This is some paradoxical bullshit you are simply not having right now, not tonight, not tomorrow, and hopefully never again.

Despite the shame and humiliation beating down on your psyche, you risk a glance to see how much bigger he looks than before.

“Cold shower, yep. Cold shower helps, right?”

You immediately shove the briefs the rest of the way down, before hopping in the shower, starting it up at the coldest setting. Hopefully the freezing water will wash away not only your transgressions but also your mortification.

You squeak at the cold, bite your lip and shiver, tough it out, and will away the uncomfortable situation.

You sigh, hoping the morning will go smoother than the swell night you had, hopping down the steps of Hajime’s house.

You cross the street to meet up with him and Tooru, already seeing their figures across the road.

“Ha-Hey.”

You almost slip up with his name, but you make a clean save. Mentally patting yourself on the back, you glance to see Hajime’s bitter expression and—

Your jaw drops when you catch sight of... yourself. Your silent wish for a trouble-free morning is cast aside as you examine his appearance.

Hair unkempt, face completely bare, not even moisturizer or at least sunscreen to be seen, did he even try?

“Ha hey to you too, Iwa-chan.”

Tooru raises a brow at the odd introduction, clearly noting the slip up (and also the fact that Hajime usually settles for a short grunt and never a ‘Ha-hey’), but you can’t be bothered to entertain him right now with the current Hajime dilemma.

“Right, whatever,” you direct your attention to Hajime, “can I grab that thing I lent you yesterday?”

“What are you talking about? You’re being weird, Hajime.”

He warns you with a stern look, but you aren’t having it,

“I’m not, I know you have it, we can grab it right now. Tooru, you go ahead. I’ll see you later.”

You push Hajime back in the direction of your house, and Tooru frowns at his abrupt seclusion with zero explanation.

“Are you guys seriously ditching me?”

Tooru raises a brow, arms akimbo with a disgraced look.

“Yeah, we are, Shittykawa. Let’s go.”

You hate to diss Tooru without a solid reason, but it’s pretty on brand for Hajime, so you bite out the nickname with minor discomfort on your lips. You impatiently grab Hajime, before pulling him towards the steps of your house, Tooru’s complaints going unheard behind you.

“Hajime! You’re not wearing any make up! And my hair is a mess!”

You whine out, sitting him down at your vanity.

Hajime merely scowls,

“Seriously? That’s what this is about? Don’t scare me like that, I thought there was something wrong.”

He moves to stand, but you shove him back into the seat with a little more aggression than intended, you lowkey forgot how strong Hajime was.

And Hajime looks up at you with a incredulous expression, feeling a little scandalized, as a woman, that you would handle him like that.

“There IS something wrong though. I look awful! At least wear some foundation and mascara, that stuff is easy to apply!”

You pull out your make up box, flicking on the mirror light.

“I think you look fine this way,” he huffs, “you don’t need all that shit.”

A frown tugs at his lips, and you feel your heartbeat quicken at his earnest display. You bite back a wistful sigh, this is exactly the reason you’ve always been so drawn to Hajime. Rough around the edges, but there there’s no bullshit when it comes to him. He doesn’t disguise his intentions, doesn’t waste time saving face. He’s just genuine, unadulterated, Iwaizumi Hajime, what you see is exactly what you get, and you honestly wouldn’t have him any other way.

Setting aside your thoughts for another time to privately dwell on, you ignore the feeling. 

“Really? That’s nice of you to say. Keep going.”

You smile, pink dusting your cheeks. You hope your expression doesn’t look too soft as you continue to apply the makeup to his face.

“Fishing for compliments now? No way, Shitty-L/N.”

“Nooo! Don’t call me that!”

You pause mid powder to cry out in your indignation, to which he masterfully ignores fixating his gaze on something more interesting than your whining, like the window sill.

After a bit of complaining, back and forth bickering about how uncomfortable the make up feels, you continue with a light highlight and mascara. You stop once you’re satisfied with your work, not bothering to deal with any extras like eyeliner or eyeshadow.

“All this for what? It tickles, and you can’t even touch it.”

Hajime’s hand hovers over his cheek, careful not to smudge anything. You must’ve smacked his hand away too many times, it seems.

“You get used to it. Plus it can be fun to try different brands and colors, and the little confidence boost isn’t bad.”

“Not that you need it.”

Hajime sighs out, standing from the seat to stretch. You’re sure it’s meant to be an insult to the crude ego you (and Tooru) tend to display, but you sense an underlying meaning that winds up boosting your ego even more.

“Anyways, we’re all done! And with time to spare.”

You chrip, gleaming with pride at your work. Add that too the list of things you should be, actress, and make up artist (next to pro volleyball player of course).

Hajime glances to the mirror, “’looks nice, I guess,” he hums in very faint approval.

That’s as good as a compliment to you, so you’ll take it!

He shifts to make way for the door, hooking his school bag over his shoulder.

“And it was definitely easier to do it on you than myself. Hey, maybe when you learn how to put it on yourself, you can do it for me when we switch back?”

You hover around him eagerly, and he rolls his eyes, resisting the urge to not smack his own body.

“No way in hell. The most I’ll do while we’re switched is that eyelash shit and the foundation or whatever,” he pauses, averting his eyes, “and only because it makes you so happy for some damn reason.”

You grin, ecstatic with his unexpected compliance, pulling him into a hug,

“And that’s perfect, eyelash shit and foundation or whatever is good enough for me!”

“H-Hey! Knock it off!”

It feels weird, being so much taller and hugging your body, but it still feels right considering it’s Hajime despite it all.

He tentatively returns the embrace, albeit awkwardly with one arm.

“We’re gonna be late if we keep bullshitting. Let’s go!”

He gently pushes you off and hightails it out of your room, and you laugh trailing after his awkward stomps.

 “Also, wear your skirt higher!”

You call out behind him.

“What? No way in hell! This is the school standard, you always wear it too high!”

He spins around, uncomfortably smoothing out the skirt pleats as if the action could make it lengthier.

“I have nice legs, and I want to show it off!”

You growl, chasing Hajime down the stairs, grabbing onto the waistline of the skirt.

“That’s stupid and you know it. Just who are you trying to impress?! They shouldn’t like you for your legs!”

He holds a tight grip on the skirt and you scowl, prying Hajime’s hands away to yank up the garment.

“No one, it’s called fashion!”

You successfully tug the skirt higher, but a bit too much considering your panties are on full display.

You snort at the sight, “Hajime, you dog, are you wearing my strawberry panties?”

Hajime feels a sense of shame at the sudden breeze, mockery, and unfathomable humiliation.

“Knock it off, it’s just a school uniform idiot! And what the fuck else was I supposed to wear?!”

He tugs the skirt back down and you click your tongue, grabbing a fist full of the fabric to hike it back up. 

“What are you two doing, we’re gonna be late!”

Tooru swings the front door open with a huff, eyes locking onto the both of you. You freeze position, instantly dreading the conversation that’s sure to take place shortly, whereas the tall setter halts at the display before him.

His precious, dear, sweet, childhood best friend’s hands are grasping at his brutish, caveman, heathen of a best friend’s biceps.

Said precious bestie’s hands are trying to shove aforementioned despicable heathen’s grip from her skirt, cheeks bright red

“Uh, this... isn’t what it looks like?”

A/N: I had extra extra fun with this part hahahaa,, sorry for the cliffhanger but I had to do it to ya, next part soon!

taglist: @cybergovl​

Masterlist, Part 4

[chibinekochan]

How to become a Demon Ruler 105

Part:   01 I 02  I 03  I 04

GN. Reader insert

taglist:  @ayesha95    ;  @nomnomcupcakesworld ;  @fex-phoenix   ; @depressed-bixch ;   @kitsune-oji

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

I feel ready for my dance lessons and to just end this day. 

"I'm glad to see that you are still so motivated." Barbatos seems to misjudge the source of my motivation but I take the compliment with a smile regardless. 

"I'm trying my best but I have to warn you. I have two left feet." I feel slightly ashamed of that. 

"I'm certain that we can fix that with enough practice. Let's move to the practice room." Barbatos seems to have zero doubts. I follow him but I still have concerns. 

The ballroom is exactly what I have expected. It's a seemingly endless room, with a lot of glass on one side. 

Barbatos turns the music on. It's waltz music. 

  Barbatos comes back to me, he stands right in front of me. “First, the hold. Place your left hand on my back."

I step closer to him and a bit awkwardly place my hand on his sturdy back.

He seems pleased enough. „Now extend your right arm.” 

I extend it and he takes my hand in his. I'm painfully aware of how close our bodies are right now.

I feel him squeeze his arm around my waist.

This is very embarrassing but also somewhat nice.

  "Please relax." Barbatos has a very soft tone. 

I had not realized how stiff I am. "I'm just a bit worried that I will hurt you." Just the thought of stepping on his foot mortifies me.

Barbatos gives me a soft laugh. "There is no need for you to concern yourself with me." 

This makes my heart ache for some reason. "Too bad, since I won't stop being concerned for you." I point a little to underline my sentiment. 

"How very kind of you." He shows me a genuine smile. 

Once again I find myself blushing. This is getting very troublesome. 

"Shall we start then?" Barbatos reminds me why we are here. 

I honestly had forgotten for a moment." Y-yeah."

"Very well, take a step back," Barbatos tells me what to do and I follow his lead. He softly pushes me. I take a step back and Barbatos follows me. "Now a step to the side, feel how I lead you." His hand softly pushes me to the side. 

"Now a step forward." His hand on my back gently pushes me the right way. 

Barbatos nods with approval. "Very good. Now I will count until we are in sync. One…two…three…" We both go through the motions, very slowly. I'm just focusing on the steps. I glance down to see where my feet are.

"Please look at me master." Barbatos notices right away. His words are very effective. "Sorry..." I look right into his eyes. I almost stumble but his hand keeps me sturdy. 

After this, our lesson runs pretty smoothly. 

I'm pretty exhausted but it wasn't as bad as expected. It must be that Barbatos is an excellent teacher and that he didn't even flinch when I accidentally stepped on his foot. 

"You did very well. After all this hard work you have certainly earned your dinner." Barbatos praises me once again. 

"It's all thanks to you." I know very well how lost I would be without him. Quite literally. 

"You flatter me too much master." Barbatos smiles. 

After a break in the library, I decide to go alone to the dining room. I can't forever rely on Barbatos to bring me everywhere.

  He looked like a sad puppy. I kept being strong. 

So now I have a map of the castle and enough time to find my way in this maze. 

With huge relief, I find my way. 

Barbatos seems equally relieved to see me.

  "Welcome. I heard you decided to come all alone. I'm glad you found your way." Diavolo seems cheerful as usual. 

"I'm glad too. It was the right decision to not send a search party just yet." Barbatos remark leaves me unsure whenever this is supposed to be a joke or not. 

"I'm an adult and I can handle myself." I'm not quite sure that they know that. 

"They grow up so fast." Diavolo seems a bit sad. 

"Yes, they certainly do." Barbatos nods with a sad expression. 

"I was already all grown up when I came here." I can only shake my head and start to eat. Both men laugh. 

Once again Diavolo seems pleased that I eat so healthy. I don't give it much thought, since somehow this is very nice. I might start to like this place after all. 

I feel pretty satisfied and plenty filled with my favorite dessert.

  "What are you planning to do this evening?" Barbatos knows already that my tasks are all done. 

"I will take a bath, relax and sleep." Honestly, I'm too tired to even think of anything to do. 

"That sounds great. You deserve the rest after all the training you did today. Barbatos told me about your magic reading. It's marvelous, to say the least." Diavolo approves and then he mentions the earlier incident. 

"I'm not sure about that. To me, it looked like it just broke." I feel like the picture of that golden pot smoke will haunt me tonight. 

"It was a magical item it's incapable of simply breaking." Barbatos seems sure of it but to me, the item looked utterly unimpressive. 

"It's certainly impressive. Nobody ever broke it, not even Lucifer." Diavolo seems to remicense over something. 

"Lucifer, like the devil?" I'm very confused. 

"The devil? No, he is a fallen angel that is now a very high ranking demon." Diavolo seems confused. 

"I guess humans got some stuff wrong." I can only shrug. I have much left to learn. 

"We will cover that topic in tomorrow's history lesson. Actually, he will attend the party in six days." Barbatos uses my interest to plug more lessons. 

"Wow, that is kinda scary…" I flinch a little. 

"Don't worry Lucifer is a great guy. We are great friends. He will love you." Diavolo seems to have nothing but good things to say about Lucifer. 

I'm not sure how to feel about this. 

"There is no need to trouble yourself with this. I know you will do great at the party." Barbatos gives me some encouragement. It's sweet of him, even when I'm not particularly worried about making a great expression. 

"Thank you. I should go to my room now." I feel suddenly very sleepy. This whole day was just a lot honestly. 

"Yes, that seems a wise decision. I would be mortified if you would find yourself sick." Barbatos nods and seems sad at the image of me getting sick. 

"Don't worry I'm a weed." I laugh. 

"Nonsense if you are a weed then I'm a pickle." Diavolo shudders at the thought. 

"You don't like pickles?" I find that very surprising. 

"It is a huge issue." Barbatos shakes his head."Regardless let me accompany you to your room." Before I can object to that Barbatos` motions with his hand. "I don't accept any objections." 

With that, I get silenced. 

So once again Barbatos escorts me to my room, but this time I walk beside him. 

Somehow this makes this feel much better to me.

  "I'm sorry that I went over your head but you are tired and I don't want to strain you by having to walk around for hours before you reach your room." Barbatos has a sad expression. Almost like that happened. 

"I understand, you are just worried for your master. I'm very grateful for that." I smile at him to assure him. 

"I'm glad that you see it that way. I know that I must seem harsh to you, but let me assure you that I care greatly about you." Barbatos offers me the softest of smiles. 

I can't help but smile at this. "I know thank you for your support Barbatos."

"I will continue to support you, even if it should take my life," Barbatos states this so casually and yet full of sincerity. 

"I don't want you to die for me." I'm confused and this is all I can muster to say. 

"I'm just saying that if you would require my life then I would gladly offer it to you." Barbatos doesn't miss a beat. 

I can only hope that such a day will never come. It would break my heart. 

"There is no need to be sad, master," Barbatos speaks softly, he must see my distress. 

I can't add anything to his words. "I should go and take my bath now. Sleep tight Barbatos." 

"Rest well, master." Barbatos waits again until I close my door. 

When I'm in the bathtub I decide to order Barbatos to never die for me. I'm sure he will do it if it's an order. 

With that thought, I go to bed. More or less ready for whatever the next day will toss at me. 

[loftec]

Hi! in this prompt, could we know about Mickey's ex boyfriend or something? I think his name was Matt?

thank you for participating + pre NTW - Mickey's POV 👀

Anon: tell us about Matt

Yevgeny: his name was Mark

Mickey, pinching the bridge of his nose: Martin, and no. I’m not gonna tell you about Martin.

Narrator: little did Mickey know that he had zero say on the matter, let’s goooo.

April 13, 2013. Saturday.

Mickey is just off the L when his phone rings. For a moment, he considers ignoring the buzzing in his pocket as he lights up a cigarette and bounds down the metal steps. The list of people likely to call him is very limited, and most of that list is very welcome to fuck off to voicemail on a Saturday evening. Work can fuck off, telemarketers can doubly fuck off. On this particular Saturday, even his extended family can fuck off. It might be Martin, wondering where he is, but he can quite frankly also fuck off, seeing as Mickey is no more than five minutes away from their agreed rendezvous.

That only leaves one, and the thought alone is enough for Mickey to step out of the flow of people rushing to and from the platform, and check the damned call. Seeing the ID, he quickly picks up, pressing the phone to his ear.

”What the fuck?” he asks, unsure if he should be annoyed or alarmed and figuring this would best cover a bit of both.

”Hey dad,” his son says, unexpectedly.

”Yev?” Mickey says, inching towards annoyed. At least his son is unharmed enough to dial a phone, so it can’t be too bad. ”What’s wrong? Where’s Sonya?”

”She’s right here,” Yevgeny says, he sounds fine, normal, good, ”we can’t find the cake poking thing.”

Staring at the empty space in front of him, Mickey feels the rest of his mood swan dive head-first into annoyed. ”The what?”

”The thing we use to poke cakes, to check if they’re done? We can’t find it and we need it, the cake is almost done.”

Taking the forgotten cigarette from his lips, Mickey angles the burning end away from his face as he rubs at the deep line between his eyebrows.

”Kid,” he says, trying to sound calm, ”give the phone to Sonya.”

There are some muffled noises over the line, and then Mickey can hear his son’s distant voice. ”He wants to talk to you.”

”Hey Mickey,” Sonya comes on, breezy as anything. ”Is it supposed to be in the cutlery drawer? Been rifling through that thing for a good minute already.”

”Are you fucking kidding me?”

”What? It’s not such a weird guess, is it? I’d say it’s cutlery adjacent at least.”

”I’ve been outta the fucking house for less than forty minutes!” Mickey says, calmly. He is absolutely not screeching loud enough to have people on the street give him concerned looks. ”And you call me about some fucking–, I don’t have anything like that! Who has a thing specifically for poking cakes?!”

”Oh please,” Sonya scoffs. ”Plenty people do, you being one of them!”

He wants to point out that this is categorically not what he meant when he said ’call me if there’s an emergency’, but he’s got a feeling that this is only going to get him into an argument about the definition of ’emergency’ that he’s not going to win, and besides, he’s got bigger fish to fry right now.

”I absolutely do fucking not!” he splutters, glaring at a couple throwing him side-eye as they rush past him. ”Are you outta your mind?”

”I know you have one, because I gave it to you,” Sonya says, clanking sounds in the background from where she’s still presumably rifling through Mickey’s shit. ”Remember? When you moved in? I got it in Sweden when I was visiting for my cousin’s wedding. It was hand crafted, Mickey, you better not have thrown it out!”

”That thing?” Mickey balks, smoothly electing to not point out that they both know Sonya came home from her trip with like ten of those in her luggage and then spent the next two years giving them to all her friends and family whenever she’d forgot about getting gifts for an occasion. ”I stuck it in Merida.”

The silence on the other end of the line is palpable, and it takes a second for Mickey to hear what he just said.

”Who is Merida, and do I want to know why you stuck my hand-carved Swedish cake poker in her?”

Mickey sighs, and decides that he doesn’t have to answer that. He can try, at least. ”Tell Yev it’s in Merida.”

”I most certainly will not tell your sweet summer child that you’ve stuck the cake poker in–,” her increasingly high pitched voice abruptly falls to a hiss, ”–Merida, who is Merida?”

Luckily, Mickey can hear his son in the background, saving him from having to explain. ”It’s this thing?”

There’s another silence, Mickey takes the opportunity to smoke and accept the inevitable.

”Two questions,” Sonya says, her usual good humor back in her voice. ”One, you stuck my hand-carved Swedish souvenir in a potted plant? And two, you named the plant Merida?”

”It’s cartoon character–,” Mickey starts, before realizing what he’s saying and cutting himself off, ”I didn’t name it, obviously.”

”But you still call it by its name.”

”Whatever,” Mickey blows out a puff of smoke and can’t help smiling. Sometimes he just has to stop and take stock of how fucking ridiculous his life has turned out. And how much he fucking likes it, despite himself. ”Congratulations, you found it. Any other emergency you needed me for, or can I get back to my–”

He swallows, catching himself mid-sentence, suddenly unsure of how he intended to end it.

”–thing.”

”You’re there already?” Sonya asks, sounding genuinely remorseful now. ”Sorry, you left so late I thought for sure you’d missed the train and would still be en route, or I wouldn’t have told Yev to call. How’s the date going?”

Mickey swallows again, throat dry. He starts walking down the street in the direction of the bar.

”It’s fine, still on the way,” he says, ”and it’s not a date.”

”Like heck it isn’t,” Sonya tuts, ”you’re out on a Yev weekend for the first time since I’ve known you, and I saw that shirt you’re wearing.”

He runs a hand self-consciously along his belt, his button-down still tucked in and in place. He refuses to worry about it.

”You looked good, Mickey, I meant to tell you,” Sonya continues, and she doesn’t even sound like she’s teasing anymore which Mickey knows even less how to handle. ”And you’re undeniably on a date.”

”Shut up,” Mickey mutters and smiles to himself when Sonya laughs. Feeling a little more himself, he chucks his cigarette to the curb and stops to look across the road at his destination. ”Maybe.”

He hadn’t really considered the possibility, before Martin asked him. But the sex was always good, they got along really well, and when Martin looked up at him from his bed as Mickey was pulling on his jeans, his hair rumpled and lips still shiny, and asked if he wanted to go to some kind of hipster showcase gig together, Mickey had barely even hesitated.

”About time, too,” Sonya says. ”Was starting to think the guy wasn’t all there, taking his sweet time. Maybe he was waiting for you to ask.”

”Ey,” Mickey shakes his head, ”it’s only been a couple of months.”

”Try six! That’s half of a whole year.”

”Try minding your own fucking business,” Mickey says and frowns. Maybe it has been that long since the first time they hooked up, but it’s not like they’ve been fucking on the regular the whole time since then.

”Just happy for you, Mickey,” Sonya says, like it’s an easy thing for her to say. ”You like him, right?”

He doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t outright deny it either, which probably tells Sonya everything she needs to know.

”Gotta go,” he says instead, ”and don’t call me again unless it’s an actual fucking emergency. See you tomorrow.”

Not waiting to see if she’s got something to say to that, he hangs up and shoves the phone back into his pocket. Staring at the unassuming building across the street, he allows himself a moment to take it all in. He’s just casing the joint before he enters, it’s normal fucking behavior. He isn’t stalling.

It doesn’t look too busy from the outside, there’s no line, and no bouncer or guard by the propped open double doors. The walls of the building are littered with layers of posters, on both sides of the doors and across the covered windows. Not much can be seen through the doors from his vantage point, but he assumes that it’s a front room leading to whatever’s going on inside the building.

There’s a guy standing off to the side of the doors, smoking. He’s got a lanyard shoved down his back pocket, ID badge dangling in clear sight. Most likely someone working at the bar, out on a break. His shoulders are hunched and he’s got a phone clutched to his ear, head bent and lips pressed together in a thin line. He nods at whatever is being said to him over the phone. Mickey looks up at the worn sign above the door.

”Fuck it,” Mickey mutters and, pushing aside the last of his niggling doubt, makes his way across the street and through the doors. It’s dark enough inside that his eyes need a second to adjust, before he quickly orients himself and heads toward the noise and lights leaking out from behind a set of swing doors beyond the coat check.

”Excuse me!” someone pipes up behind him, and he turns back to raise his eyebrows at the girl standing behind a counter by the entrance. ”We’ve got a showcase tonight, you need to buy a ticket.”

She makes an apologetic face as Mickey gets closer and pulls out his wallet.

”25,” she says when he gives her a questioning look.

”Christ,” he mutters, but forks over the money. ”This better be good.”

”We’ve got a really exciting lineup tonight, all local acts,” she says, obviously relieved now that he’s payed and she can tuck away his hard earned cash in her little lock box. ”I’m hoping I can take a break soon so I can sneak a peak of the headliner.”

She winks at him as she hands over a ticket, and he has zero fucking clue what he’s supposed to do with any of that.

”Okay?” he says and accepts the ticket. ”What’s this for? I’m already here.”

”In case you want to go in and out,” she says, and then tacks on when she seems to remember something she’s supposed to say; ”there’s no smoking in the venue.”

Mickey shrugs and pockets the ticket, biting back the urge to tell her that there’s no fucking smoking anywhere these days, thank you very much. The girl is still smiling at him when he turns his back on her and heads for the bar.

”Have fun!”

Finally inside, the place seems to be a collection of smaller rooms with some walls knocked down to make a larger, oddly shaped space. The bar is crowded, three bartenders moving around each other and pouring drinks in the narrow space behind it, and all the tables tucked away in the dark half-room next to it seem occupied. In the main room, Mickey finds the small, raised stage with a bigger crowd gathered in front of it. There’s a guy on stage, talking about something and looking like he’s about to cry while getting thoroughly ignored by a majority of his audience.

Mickey included, when he spots Martin a bit to the left of the stage. He’s talking to a couple of people he must have met in the crowd, smiling in that carefree way of his, eyes squeezed together and head tossed back when he laughs. He seems to do that a lot, laugh and talk and make friends wherever he goes. Open about himself in casual throw-away lines as he lets Mickey into his apartment, takes his clothes off, catching his breath, seeing Mickey off again. It’s nice seeing him out here, in the real world.

Maybe this could work. Mickey really should have tried harder to be on time, leaving your date to make new friends while he waits for you to show up seems like a bad move, now that he thinks about it.

Shit. Here goes nothing.

”Hey!” Martin exclaims, face lighting up with a wide smile when Mickey walks into his line of sight. He doesn’t sound upset, really doesn’t look it either when he pulls Mickey in for a quick kiss. It’s over before Mickey’s had the chance to do much else than blink in surprise.

”I’m late,” he acknowledges and hopes Martin will take the attempt at an apology for what it is.

”It’s fine,” Martin gins at him, tilting his head in the direction of the stage, ”you haven’t missed anything good.”

”– have you ever noticed that?” the guy on stage mutters into the microphone, ”I mean–, uh, I’ve noticed, that–, sometimes–”

Tuning the guy out again, Mickey looks past his date at the two people still standing on his other side, regarding them curiously.

”We got a problem?” he asks them, raising his eyebrows further when the woman just smiles at him.

”Oh,” Martin says, angling himself so the four of them make a little semi-circle in the crowd. ”My friends, Nora, Ethan, this is Mickey.”

Mickey stares at the side of Martin’s face for a moment, before he notices Ethan’s outstretched hand. He feels confused enough to grab it in a quick handshake. The woman, Nora, just keeps smiling.

”Nice to meet you, Mickey,” she says, clearly hiding something. People generally aren’t this smiley without an agenda, in Mickey’s experience.

”Sure,” Mickey says, glancing at Martin for some clue as to what he’s supposed to do now.

”You wanna go get yourself a drink?” Martin asks, pointing in the direction of the bar. ”This comedy train wreck should be over soon, hopefully.”

”Sure,” Mickey says again, wrong-footed by the whole odd situation and frustrated with himself for not being able to shake the feeling that he’s made a huge mistake.

”Go with him!” Nora says, making Martin take a half-step closer to Mickey by shoving lightly at his shoulder. ”We’ll save the spot.”

She gives Martin a pointed look and some kind of silent communication seems to happen between them, ending with her looking victorious and Martin dropping his head back with an exaggerated sigh. Then he turns to Mickey and playfully gestures for him to lead the way.

”Sorry about her,” he says once they’ve reached the bar, leaning in closer to speak directly into Mickey’s ear. The warmth of his breath makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. ”I keep telling her to back off, but she’s got it in her head that we’re doing something we’re not.”

Mickey swallows and turns his head to look at Martin when he leans back.

”And what are we doing?” he asks, and he doesn’t realize how it sounds until he sees Martin’s gobsmacked expression.

He lets out a startled laugh. ”Are we really gonna talk about this now? Here?”

And technically, Mickey agrees with him. He really doesn’t want to have the ’what are we’ conversation, and he definitely doesn’t want to have it now, here. But he’s already said it, and now he needs to know.

”Maybe,” he says and frowns when Martin just stares at him for a moment.

”I don’t know?” Martin eventually says. ”We have fun, right? I didn’t think you wanted it to be more than that?”

Mickey can barely hear his own thoughts over the noise from the bar, but he can practically feel his heartbeat in his throat. ”Do you?”

Martin makes a pained face, like it’s an involuntary reaction to the mere idea, before he shrugs helplessly and gives Mickey an uncertain smile.

”We don’t really have anything in common, Mickey,” he says. ”I don’t know, I just don’t see it going anywhere.”

”Thank you for participating,” the guy on stage says, his voice louder and verging on hysterical. It gives Mickey a reason to look away from Martin’s face for a second, hating the sympathetic twist to his lips. He feels like a fool.

”You suck!” someone yells in the audience.

”Yeah? Right back at you buddy!”

”Get off the stage!”

”Sure,” Mickey says, and nods. ”No, sure. You’re right.”

”Sorry?” Martin says and grins when Mickey rolls his eyes. ”And we can still have fun, right? Hey, I’ll buy you a drink! What do you want?”

”Anything, a beer,” Mickey tries to focus on Martin, on the list of prices pinned to the wall behind the bar, but there is suddenly too much noise, too many people, too much… stuff. ”I just gotta–”

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, so he stops. He doesn’t know what he wants, but getting out of this room would be a good start.

Martin looks confused, and then tuts reproachfully when Mickey pulls out his pack of smokes and gestures in the direction of the doors. He hates it when Mickey smokes, always makes him brush his teeth before they do anything. Guess that’s another thing they don’t have in common. Mickey hadn’t given it much thought.

He leaves Martin by the bar to fend for the bartender’s attention on his own and goes back outside, ignoring the surprised look on the girl by the door when he strides past her. Once outside, he’d hoped the fresh air and relative silence would knock him back on track, but it doesn’t. Everything is exactly the same, only now he can add ’running away like a pussy’ to the list of tonight’s embarrassments. He hates this, this isn’t him.

He should go back inside, show Martin and his friends that he doesn’t give a shit. Have a couple of beers, get through the night, make that asshole suck his dick until he can’t feel anything but a warm mouth and his own pleasure. But he’s not repaying any favors, not tonight, let that shithead take care of himself, since he can’t see it going anywhere. Fuck that. It’s fine.

”I know–, no, I know…”

Wrapped up in his own bullshit, Mickey hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone. The same man from before is still on the phone, and he looks if possible even more miserable than he did when Mickey first arrived.

”That isn’t–, no, I know you didn’t… listen–”

Mickey ignores him, taking out a cigarette putting it to his lips. Might as well, he’s already out here. He lights it up. He, lights it up… come the fuck on, he lights it up. His lighter is out. Fucking great.

”Ey,” he says and turns to the guy on the phone, ”you got a light?”

The guy stares at him, and Mickey absently thinks he looks even worse up close. Like, disturbingly hot and built enough to properly toss a guy around if he wanted, but absolutely worn down by whatever it is he’s doing with whoever’s on the phone with him. Whatever, not Mickey’s problem. He shakes his empty lighter when the guy doesn’t immediately react.

”Oh,” the guy blinks, his eyes are red. He digs out a lighter from somewhere and hands it over. ”Here.”

”Thanks,” Mickey steps close enough so he can reach out and take it, and consequently hear the distant sound of a man’s voice on the other end of the line. He can’t make out any words, but the tone is unmistakable. The guy frowns and turns away slightly.

”Jesus, Jace, what the fuck?” he says, voice low and sharp. ”Are you serious right now? I’m not–, you know what?”

Mickey lights up and takes a couple of steps away to give the guy some privacy, but might still watch him out of the corner of his eye and hear pretty much everything he says. Call him a nosy bitch, but he really needs the distraction right now.

”I can’t do this right now,” the guy sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. ”We’re on in like ten minutes and I can’t–, I can’t do this with you right now. I asked you for time.”

He listens, and whatever it is that’s being said to him seems to hit a nerve. The general air around him of annoyed resolve slowly shifts into something more resigned.

”Yeah, I know… I’m sorry,” he says, and Mickey doesn’t know him or his situation, but he knows this can’t be right. ”Tomorrow, we’ll talk. I promise. Yeah, thanks… I will. Love you, too.”

Mickey shouldn’t be listening to this, he should finish his cigarette and go back inside. Find Martin and enjoy the night, have some fucking fun. Maybe he should, but he doesn’t want to.

He wants to go home, put on some fucking comfortable clothes and watch a movie with his kid.

”Heads up,” he says and waits until the phone guy looks up before he lobs the lighter back at him. He fumbles, but catches it. ”Fuck him, you deserve better.”

The guy stares at him, and rightly so. Mickey doesn’t know why he said that, he doesn’t know anything about it. But the guy looks… he looks a bit like Mickey’s feeling, deep down and buried many times over.

He looks lost.

”You deserve better,” Mickey repeats, because he already said it and he’s nothing if not all in. The guy opens his mouth on a shaky exhale, but he doesn’t say anything. Probably thinking of ways to get away from the freak accosting him on the street with unsolicited affirmation bullshit. Which, fair enough. Guess that’s Mickey’s cue to fuck off. If the guy would just stop staring at him like that.

A hand-holding couple suddenly walks right through their intense moment, heading for the doors. Mickey comes back to himself and, thinking quick, he takes out his ticket and waves it at the couple to get their attention.

”No thanks,” the man said, probably thinking he’s trying to sell it.

”Just fucking take it,” Mickey grumbles, shoving the ticket at them.

”Uh, thanks?”

Mickey waves a dismissive hand at them, already on his way.

”Thank you!” someone shouts after him.

He can’t wait to get home. Kick off his shoes, wash out the gel in his hair. Untuck his fucking shirt. Investigate whatever that cake poking business was about, hopefully cake. Watch his kid watch a movie, see his little face light up and mouth along with the words. Absolutely ignore Sonya’s inevitable attempts to get him to ’talk about it’.

His life is fucking fine the way it is, he doesn’t know why he got it in his head to try and make it something it isn’t.

[angstysebfan]

But I Love You... Part 3

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: You and Bucky are best friends after meeting the Avenger at a coffee shop. You are both extremely close, and you start to catch feelings. But Bucky starts to date someone else.

You have been home for a week, and have done your best to keep busy. You even decided that you should start dating. A guy you were friendly with at work has been asking you out for months, but you always turned him down, hoping that Bucky would be yours. Now you decide to give him a chance. 

You take a look at yourself in the mirror and nod in approval. Your hair is natural and looks perfect, and you kept it simple with make-up. you decided on a deep purple dress that is tight enough to show your best assets. You hear your doorbell ring and head to the door, grabbing your clutch. 

When you open the door, you see Greg, your co-worker dressed in nice slacks and button down. You smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You ready to go?” he asks. “Yup, let’s hit the road.” you say closing your door and locking it behind you.

Greg takes you to a nice restaurant and you both fall into easy conversation. You would be lying if you didn’t admit that you had butterflies when he took your hand from the other side of the table. After dinner, you walk to a local ice cream shop and grab dessert. You are amazed how the conversation never lagged, and never felt boring. 

Greg works in the IT department of your company. You knew only basic things, but after tonight, you learned that his favorite color is green, he has 3 siblings (he is the oldest), he loves old classic movies, enjoys sports, and wants to travel the world. He adores his parents, and wants to be a dad some day. You learned his dreams and fears, and you learned that he is one of the most genuine man you have ever met.

He leads you back up to your door and stands there as you fish out your keys. “I had an amazing time, Y/N.” he says, making you look at him with a warm smile. “Me too, Greg. I truly had an amazing night.” You say. He leans in and gives you a small soft kiss on your lips, leaving you wanting more. “D-did you want to come in?” you ask. He smiles and kisses you again. “Maybe next time. I want to do this right.” he says.

You nod, though you are disappointed. “I understand.” you say. He smiles and starts backing down the your walkway. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow, beautiful.” he says. “See you tomorrow.” you say before walking into your apartment and closing the door. You stand with your back against the door for a moment, catching your breath.

Before you got a chance to move, you heard a knock at the door. “Did you change your mind?” you ask with a smile as you opened the door. But it wasn’t Greg standing there, it was Bucky. Your smile falls from your face, and your heartbeat spikes. “Bucky? What do you need? I told you I needed space from you.” you say.

Bucky looks at you sadly, “I need to talk to you, please.” he says. You think about it for a moment, “I don’t think that is a good idea, Buck. I meant what I said on the phone that day. I... I can’t move on if you are around. I need you to understand.” you say looking straight into his eyes. 

He sighs and looks at the ground, “Y/N, please. 5 minutes.. that’s all I’m asking.” he begs. You sigh, wishing he would respect what you said. “2 minutes and we are standing right here.” you say annoyed. He nods and takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry about how I treated you. I treated you like my girlfriend without thinking that it would be leading you on. We had that make out session the night before I left, and I never thought about how you felt. I understand why you said you needed space.”

You look at him with zero emotion on your face. “It took you walking away from me to realize how much I need you in my life. You are the first thing I think about when I wake up, and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. You were there for me in so many ways and allowed me to put all my drama on you. I hid how I felt because I never thought you felt that way. I hid it so well, I didn’t even realize myself until now. I... I’m in love with you, Y/N.” he says.

You look at him in shock, “Seriously? You have a girlfriend Bucky. ‘The most beautiful woman you have ever seen’. How do you expect me to believe that you have been and are just realizing you are in love with me?” you scold. He looks down at the ground, wishing for a better reaction from you. “Bucky, I’m sure it’s just you missing what I represent. You don’t love me, and you never did. At least not the way I loved you.” you say.

Bucky looks at you, “Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?” he asks quietly. “I’m saying I am learning to move on. I have a great guy who I just went out on, who actually likes me the way I want to be. You just don’t want to lose me as a friend.” you say. 

“No! That’s not it Y/N! Look, I know my timing is not the greatest, but I’m an idiot! I liked Lindsay, but she isn’t you! I want you!” he says stepping closer. “Bucky...” you whisper, making him halt. “Y/N, I will work so hard to prove my love for you, if you would only give me a chance, please.” he pleads. “I... I don’t know. I need to think about it, okay?” you say. 

You see his whole body deflate as he steps away from you. “I guess I don’t have a choice. But, please believe me. You’re it. You’re the only one for me. I want a chance to prove it.” he says before he turns and walks back toward his motorcycle. He stops and turns, “Oh, and you look absolutely stunning tonight.” he says before getting on his bike and riding away.

You close the door to your apartment and break down. Your night started absolutely perfect, and ended the complete opposite. You didn’t know what to do. You do love Bucky, but how can you trust he won’t hurt you again. And Greg is so sweet, how can you hurt him. 

What were you going to do?

--

Previous Part  /  Next Part

This will be either 4 or 5 parts. We shall see. What do you think she should do? Feedback is appreciated.

Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @tuiccim​ @comedictragedy​ @cap-n-stuff​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @swiftmind​ @joannie95​

[nevernotwriting]

You, Me, and Yancy | Chapter 13: Breakout

Read me on AO3!

Previous chapter

It was nightfall. You were sat in your car in the same spot as earlier in the day with your stomach in knots.

This was the moment of truth.

You took a deep breath and stepped out into the cool night air, making your way to the side of the building. The sight of the iron gate brought fresh memories flooding back to you. You could almost see yourself curled up at the base of the tree nearby again, debilitating over what to do. All you could do now was hope that Yancy would be here soon.

The sound of a car stopping nearby pulled you out of your thoughts. You frowned in confusion as Vakarian and Mark climbed out, wandering over to you.

Mark scratched the back of his head and averted his eyes, offering a small smile. You folded your arms.

“What’s with the backup?” You asked as Vakarian slung a sniper rifle over one shoulder and unzipped his duffel bag. He glanced up at you and Mark, then quickly took great interest in the bag’s contents.

“I figured it might be a good idea, in case things get ugly,” Mark responded.

You nodded. “Fair enough, but it won’t. Yancy knows the place inside out, he’ll be able to slip out unseen.”

Mark frowned, contemplating his words. “Zero… how long has he been in here, exactly?”

You shrugged. “A while, I guess. He got locked up for murder-”

Mark���s eyes widened.

“But he didn’t do it!” You exclaimed. “He’s done some bad shit, but so have we. But he’s no murderer.”

Mark deflated a little, pinching the bridge of his nose. “All right. Let’s just get this over with before I have a heart attack.”

Vakarian strode towards the two of you, popping gum and acting as nonchalant as ever. He locked eyes with you and smiled, offering his hand to shake. You took it with a friendly nod, trying not to stare at the bright pink gum protruding from between his teeth.

“Good to see you in one piece, Zero.”

“Thanks, Vakarian. Mark give you the lowdown?”

He nodded. “I’m gonna get a better vantage point in that tree. Care to join me?”

You looked at Mark, feeling a pang of guilt seep into your chest. Despite still being mad at him, you didn’t want to leave him alone when he’d agreed to help you.

Mark smiled at you, more genuine than before. “Go ahead, I’ll keep an eye out on the ground level. Might wait in the car though, it’s a little chilly tonight.”

Vakarian chuckled and tossed a small two-way radio to Mark from his duffel bag. “Take this. We’ll tell you if we see anything.”

Mark nodded, his eyes darting to you one more time before he climbed back into his car. You sighed and followed Vakarian. He swung himself into the tree with little effort and held a hand out to you.

“Come on up, short stack.”

“Just cause you’re six foot seven,” you scoffed as you hoisted yourself up and got comfy.

“Exactly. When you’re as tall as me, everyone’s a short stack,” he chuckled.

You shook your head, getting yourself comfy as Vakarian positioned the radio between the two of you. He rooted through his bag and handed you a pair of binoculars. Though you hadn’t spent much time with him outside of HQ, you were grateful for his company now as you peered over the edge of the prison walls, nerves seeping into your veins. The radio buzzed.

“You guys in position?” Came Mark’s fuzzy voice.

Vakarian picked up the device. “Yep. No sign of jailbird just yet.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Jailbird?”

He shrugged as he placed the radio back down. “Mark’s idea.”

With a snort, you passed him the binoculars and decided to change the subject.

“So… how’ve things been?”

Vakarian popped his gum again as he contemplated the question. “Pretty tense. Shark’s been on a rampage ever since you got locked up, bludgeoning everyone in her path. Mark’s return barely pacified her cause he came back empty handed. Jasmine took a couple days off just to get out of her way.”

He lowered the binoculars again and looked at you. “Everyone’s been really worried about you, though. Especially Mark. He said you got shot?”

Guilt ran through you again, but you pushed it down. “Yeah, but it’s fine. Still healing, but I’m fine.”

“Good.”

Vakarian returned to looking through the binoculars. You rubbed your hands together as the wind whipped between the tree branches, the sound of bristling leaves filling the air. Anxious, you peered over his shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of anything, or anyone.

“You see anything yet?”

“Not yet. But no guards, either.”

You inhaled a shaky breath and peddled your legs back and forth, trying to distract your mind from the worst-case scenario. Vakarian placed the binoculars down and snapped his head towards you suddenly. Even underneath his curls, you could tell his eyebrows were knitted together.

“So,” he began, chewing his gum fiercely. “What’s the deal with this guy, anyway? He like a relative or something?”

Your face grew warm. “I thought you said Mark gave you the lowdown.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t elaborate much on this guy we’re breaking out. He said his name’s Yancy or something? And that was about it.”

“Yeah, Yancy,” you replied. The image of him on the other side of the gate flashed through your mind as you said his name, a metallic taste entering your mouth. “He’s… I care about him. And he doesn’t deserve to be in there.”

Vakarian let out a deep, rumbling laugh, the gum nearly falling out of his mouth. He shook his head at you. “Riiight, I see.”

“What?”

“Nothin’, just connectin’ some dots.” He blew a gigantic pink bubble, letting it pop around his mouth.

“Can you please take this seriously?” You grumbled. “Do you have to chew gum right now?”

“Helps me concentrate if I have to shoot,” he replied with a carefree smile.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. If you weren’t so on edge, you’d have laughed.

The radio buzzed again with Mark’s voice. “It’s been ten minutes, guys.”

Your stomach dropped and you bit your lip. Sensing your nerves, Vakarian checked through the binoculars again.

“Zero, how long did it take you to get out when you escaped?” Mark asked.

You picked up the radio. “Uh… shit, I don’t know,” you sighed. There were too many clouds in your mind to remember, and your escape had been shrouded in darkness – it could have been anywhere from five to fifty minutes, for all you knew.

“Don’t worry. We’ll stick around a bit longer, yeah?” Vakarian reassured you, offering the binoculars. You snatched them up with an anxious noise of agreement as he took the radio.

“You get that, Mark?”

“Loud and clear.”

Time passed by, and the night was only getting colder. Vakarian tried to keep you distracted with small talk, but you still bit your lip to the point of bleeding. A sudden crackle from the radio startled you, making you almost fall out of the tree.

“Guys… it’s been nearly thirty minutes.”

Vakarian ceased his incessant chewing and shot you a concerned look. Before he could give any kind of reassurance, you shuffled to the edge of the branch and leapt out of the tree, hitting the ground with a thud. You cast one final glance at the gate, your eyes filling with tears, then turned to trudge back to your car.

Mark leapt out of his car when he saw you approaching.

“Zero, I-”

“Yeah, you told me so. Save it, Mark,” you snapped, folding your arms and staring at the ground.

Mark shuffled on the spot, fiddling with the radio in one hand. “I… I was just gonna say I’m sor-”

The radio crackled.

“Guys?”

Your head snapped up, and you quickly wiped your tears as Mark spoke into the radio.

“What is it?”

“There’s someone at the gate.”

You didn’t need to hear those words twice. Your feet sprinted to the gate faster than your brain could comprehend. A familiar figure in a white shirt and striped trousers was unlocking the gate.

Yancy closed the gate after him, the sound of clanging metal echoing. He stared through the bars, gently letting go of them and dusting off his hands. When you were a few feet away, you came to an abrupt halt.

“Yancy!”

He whipped round, his eyes suddenly focused. He smoothed a hand over the tattoo on his arm. A soft smile appeared.

“Hey.”

You laughed apprehensively and took a step closer, a whole new set of nerves entering your body. Your eyes flicked to the ground.

“I didn’t think you were gonna show.”

Yancy exhaled. “Yeah, I… sorry for the wait. Couldn’t leave the gang without a leader, ya know?”

You nodded and chewed your lip, mentally kicking yourself for getting so worked up. Before you could say anything more, Yancy spoke again.

“Don’t worry, Zero. I wasn’t gonna leave yous.”

His words rippled through you like a lightning bolt. Before you could stop yourself, you ran to him and wrapped your hands around his shoulders. He staggered but held you just as tightly in return, chuckling in your ear.

A loud thud sounded as Vakarian exited the tree, and the two of you pulled apart.

“You brought backup?” Yancy asked.

“Yeah. This is Vakarian.”

Vakarian stopped. “You’re Yancy?”

“The one and only,” Yancy replied, holding his hand out. Vakarian took it with a curious grin. You turned to see Mark approaching with his hands in his pockets, and silence fell over the four of you.

“And… this is Mark.”

Yancy’s gaze steeled in an instant as he looked Mark up and down. Mark offered a brief smile that quickly disappeared as Yancy folded his arms. You held your breath.

Thankfully, Vakarian broke the tension.

“Huh. You two look kinda similar.”

Mark and Yancy stared at him, both equally bewildered.

“Do we?” Mark finally spoke.

“I always thought so,” you offered.

Yancy frowned with a low grunt. “I don’t see it.”

More silence.

“Oookay, well…” Vakarian cleared his throat. “Looks like our job’s done. Zero, I assume you can take it from here?”

You nodded. “Y-yeah, thanks guys. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Mark’s eyes lit up for the first time. “You’re coming back?”

“I think so,” you replied. “Anyway. Yancy, d’you need somewhere to stay?”

Yancy blinked out of the death glare he was still directing at Mark, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks as he looked at you. He scratched the back of his neck with a nervous laugh.

“I uh… yeah. Didn’t really think ahead of the prison walls, to be honest.”

Mark snorted, but averted his gaze when you glared at him. You turned back to Yancy.

“That’s fine, you can stay with me if you like.”

Yancy smiled. “Yous sure?”

“Yeah, come on!”

With a spring in your step, you walked towards your car, Yancy following behind. You shouted goodnight to Mark and Vakarian, but their car doors slammed shut just as you turned around.

Yancy was visibly more relaxed now it was just the two of you, seeming content to quietly watch the world go by until you arrived at your apartment.

“Well, here we are.” You unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Yancy’s eyes darted everywhere, and you wrung your hands together.

“It’s not much, but it’s home.”

Yancy turned to you and smiled. “Believe me, it’s the nicest place I’ve seen in ten years.”

Your blood ran cold.

“Ten years?”

“Yeah, did I never tell yous? Well… would’ve been longer… if it weren’t for yous.” He smiled, and heat rose to your face.

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

You led him to your spare room. He inspected all of your various decorations and picture frames, taking a particular shine to a small photo of you on your graduation day with your parents smiling proudly on either side of you.

“This is nice,” he said with a smile that quickly faded. “I was in theatre school, before… well…”

“Maybe you’ll get to go back.”

Yancy glanced up at you and placed the picture back down. “Maybe.”

“Anyway, there’s some spare clothes on the bed over there. They’re Mark’s, but they should fit you. Bathroom’s across the hall if you want to use it.”

Yancy walked over to the bed and picked up the clothes, inspecting them with a raised eyebrow.

“Are yous sure he ain’t your boyfriend?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I just had to borrow them after I got out.”

“I was just teasin’ yous,” Yancy snickered with a wink.

“Right,” you laughed, leaving him to it.

Ten minutes later you were back in the kitchen, throwing together some semblance of food for the two of you. Broadway songs echoed from down the hall where Yancy was singing away to himself in the shower. You paused for a moment, relishing in the feeling of a plan finally going off without a hitch. A twinge of guilt still hit you when you thought about Mark, but your heart soared knowing that Yancy was finally out, getting another shot at life.

Yancy walked into the kitchen just as you were serving up two bowls of pasta. He was wearing the clothes you’d borrowed from Mark, running his hands through his damp hair. You stopped in your tracks and blinked.

“What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Here, you hungry?”

You slid a bowl of pasta across the counter top in his direction. He stared down at it as if it were a foreign object.

“Yous made that for me?”

His question caught you off guard. “Well, technically for both of us, cause I haven’t eaten much today. But… yeah.”

His voice was quiet when he spoke again. “You know I said yous sure are one of a kind?”

Your stomach flipped, but you brushed it off. “It’s just pasta, Yancy.”

“I stand by what I said.” He stepped closer to you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he wrapped his arms around your waist, settling his head on your shoulder. You returned the gesture, one of your hands touching the edge of his hair. Either Yancy was incredibly warm, or your skin was on fire.

He withdrew and held you in his arms, your breath still caught in your throat. The clock on the wall ticked on in the everlasting silence as his eyes flicked briefly to your lips, your hand shifting to his shoulder as he tightened his grip on your waist-

Your phone buzzed on the counter top, cutting through the silence. Yancy’s hands dropped from your waist with an awkward clear of his throat. You grabbed your phone, unlocking it with a long exhale.

“Sorry. It’s Mark, he’s asking about work stuff.” You sighed, running a hand down your face. “I gotta go in tomorrow and face the music.”

Yancy hummed in understanding, his face pursed in thought.

“Yous want me to go with you? I can ruff ‘em up if yous need me to,” he chuckled, cracking his knuckles.

“I don’t think beating up my boss is gonna help me keep my job, Yancy,” you laughed. “Though it would be satisfying.”

Another pause, until Yancy’s face lit up with a new idea.

“D’yous think… yous got room on your team for one more criminal?”

You blinked. “I mean… probably, but you only just got out of prison. Are you sure you wanna go straight back to a life of crime?” You cringed at your own words. “Sorry, forget I said that. I’m the last person who should be saying that.”

Yancy laughed. “No harm done. So what d’ya say? I convince your boss lady – Shark, yous said she was called?”

You nodded, flattered he had remembered such a small detail from one of your previous conversations.

“I convince Shark that I can be part o’ the team, but only if she lets you off the hook. Then yous and I can be partners in crime.”

The boldness of his suggestion made your head spin, but you couldn’t deny it sounded pretty damn good. Sensing your train of thought, Yancy broke out into a grin.

“All right, Yancy. You got a deal.”

Next chapter

[notalwayslate]

What Must Be Done

Hello @joylee56​ it is I your Secret Santa. I was thrilled to get you, as I loved the gift you gave me, Fresh Start, at the last exchange! I hope you enjoy!

Prompt: Role Reversal, books, Nealfire

What Must Be Done

Summary: When a magical mishap transports Belle into the story of an old spinner she soon discovers what must be done to save his son.

Read it on AO3:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344366

“Ahem.”

Belle looked up from her book to find Rumpelstiltskin standing in the entryway, his dark brown leather apron tightly wrapped around his body, with a look of impatience on his face. She spotted a beaker in his right hand, containing what she could only assume was some magical concoction that he spent the afternoon creating.  

"I have been calling you for the last five minutes,” he huffed shaking his head in frustration. “I am in need of your assistance. That is if you could spare the time from your busy cleaning schedule."

 Unbothered by the jab, Belle had grown quite accustomed to bantering with the Dark One. Although he often feigned outrage over her lack of housekeeping, she was well aware that he placed no real expectation of servitude upon her.  He had gifted her a library after all, and both of them knew that the castle tended to itself. Yet, for reasons she didn’t quite fully understand, they both kept up the pretense that her role at the castle, and more importantly in his life, was that only of a maid.

"Can’t it wait till later?" she pled blinking, as she lay curled up on her favorite reading chaise with a book in hand.

The side of his mouth twitched, and she was unsure if it was out of amusement or annoyance.

"I'm sure the handsome young hero in your book can wait, because I cannot.  Now put it down. I need you to write down the instructions for this spell exactly how I tell you."

Throwing her head back she groaned at the inane task.  "Can't you write it yourself?"

Rumpelstiltskin pursed his lips as his eyes narrowed at her. "And what have another blunder like the one with that simpleton farmer? I still have nightmares about that delivery!'

It had been quite the mishap for poor old Mr. McGill, an aging farmer who had desperately wanted his wife to have a child, after years of trying. Rumpelstiltskin had guaranteed him a baby, for a price of course.  Eager to finally have an heir, the farmer readily agreed and was given the fertility potion along with hand written instructions on how to use it.

 Unfortunately for Mr. McGill, the Dark One’s penmanship was atrocious, and he mistakenly took the vial meant for his wife.  Nine months later, with a little help from a very traumatized Dark One, Mr. McGill had safely delivered a pair of healthy young girls.

"Good point," Belle nodded, letting out a sigh as she closed the book. "I guess I have to wait till tomorrow to see what happens to Baelfire."

The sound of shattering glass startled her, as she looked over to see the broken beaker sprawled across the floor where Rumple stood. She opened her mouth to tease that she was not the only klutz in the castle, but his look of complete bewilderment silenced her words.

"Wh-what did you say?"

Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. “I…” her brows furrowed in a confused worry as she stumbled to speak. Something was wrong. In all the months she lived there, he had never looked that way before.

"I…I was talking about a story," she held up the small leather bound book she had just been reading, as his eyes zeroed in on it.  Her nerves grew the longer he silently stared, so she started rambling to fill the awkward silence.

"Well it’s not so much a story really, but a journal. I mean it jumps around, with no real rhyme or reason, but what I can gather it’s about a poor man who needs to find the Duke's magical dagger to save his son Baelfire."

Slowly, calculatingly, he moved his menacing stare up from the book, and into her eyes. For the first time in her life she felt true fear in the presence of the Dark One.

"Where did you get that?" he snarled his voice inflamed with a sinister tone.

"I...I found it when I was dusting." She glanced down at the journal in her trembling hands with confusion.  How could such an unassuming book draw such a powerful reaction from the Dark One?   "You...you said I could read any book in the castle as long as it wasn't in your laboratory," she spoke defensively feeling the urge to justify whatever wrong she had clearly inflicted upon him.

Taking a deep breath, she braced for his harshness, but cold silence was all she heard.  Although his eyes still bore into hers, it was as if he was looking right through her, lost in his own world. A gnawing guilt crept into her heart at seeing him so distraught.

Timidly she bit her lip. "I'm sorry Rumpelstiltskin. I will return the book to where I found it at once."

Hastily she moved around the large table, keeping her eyes down cast as she moved towards the door where he stood. She intended to pass without a word, but as she neared him, she noticed his entire body was shaking.

Was he ill? The fear for her own safety dissipated as she worried now for his.  She couldn’t just leave him like this, especially surrounded by broken glass.  Quickly she dropped to her knees before him, placing the journal on the floor next to her.  She hadn’t thought this through thoroughly as she had nothing but her hands to pick up the jagged shards of glass.

Carefully she reached for the largest piece, when her hand slipped against the floor, barreling her palm right across the jagged edge of glass.  When she looked down at her bleeding hand, she noticed the journal out of the corner of her eye, now lying in a shifted pool of whatever was in the beaker.  She reached for it, crying out when the wetly coated book made contact with her cut hand.

Her sharp cry broke Rumple from his frozen stupor. He looked down, his brows furrowing in concern as he whimpered, “You’re hurt.”

She felt his arms wrap around her, before everything went black.

X

"Mama."

A tiny voice soon followed by a gentle shake of her shoulder rustled Belle from sleep. She felt the unmistakable poking of straw clipping at her face and hair. If she was sleeping on a pile of straw, there could only be one explanation. Sighing, she opened her eyes.

"Did you really put me back in the dungeon, Rumpelstiltskin," she called out, knowing full well he could hear her from any part in the castle. “I told you I was sorry.”

"Mama?"

Startled by the voice, Belle sat up, to see a young floofy haired boy, looking straight at her. Her jaw dropped at the sight of him. His clothing was worn and tattered. How long had he been down here?

"Are you okay Mama?"

Befuddled Belle looked around searching for whomever the young boy was talking to. She didn’t see anyone else, but even more confounding were her surroundings.  She wasn’t in one of the dungeons at the Dark Castle. It appeared to be more of a shack, a hovel of sort.

"Mama?"

She could hear the growing concern in the young boy’s voice, and turned her attention back towards him. Wanting to comfort the confused lost child, she went to stand, crying out when a rush of searing hot pain shot through her right leg.

"I'll get your staff, Mama." the young boy called out, reaching for a wooden stick against the far side of the wall. He silently placed it in her hand as she slowly stood. How had she hurt her leg?

So many questions raced through her mind, but she needed to deal with the most pressing matter at hand.

"Where is your mama, sweetheart?" she asked the young lad.

"I don't understand, Mama.” he shook his head. “Is this some sort of game?”

“You tell me,” she countered still thoroughly confused as to whom this boy was, and why he kept calling her his mother.

“Are you feeling okay Mama?

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to stop calling her that, but as she saw the genuine look of concern in his big brown eyes, she thought better of it. If she had to guess he was probably around 11 or 12 years of age. He was a handsome young lad, and even though she had never laid eyes upon him before, there was something familiar in his manner, that she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m fine sweetheart,” she forced a smile playing along. “I’m just feeling a little out of sort today.”

“Are you having second thoughts about tonight, Mama?” he inquired. “Are we still running away?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the odd revelation. Running away? Why would they be running away and more importantly from whom?  

“Well…” she hesitated a moment, trying to figure out the best way to get the answers she so desperately needed without seeming like a complete lunatic to the young child. “Why do you think I want us to run away?”

He hung his head, kicking at the dirt floor.

“Because the Duke has lowered the age to fight again, and they are going to take me away, like they did Morraine.”

Wait, she knew that story.  

“And I know you want to keep me safe Mama, but it just doesn’t feel right to flee.”

An impossible reality dawned upon her, as she looked incredulously at the young boy.

“Baelfire?”

“I don’t want them to look at me like a coward Mama, and…”

His voice drowned into the background, as her head swarmed in a dizzied disbelief. She felt disoriented and stumbled to an old wooden chair nearby. Baelfire was at her side in an instant. She didn’t want to frighten him, but she needed time to herself to process everything.  

Tempering her panic for a brief moment, she mustered all of her strength, kindly asking Baelfire to fetch some water from the creek.  He was hesitant to leave her at first, but she assured him with a false sense of calm that she had merely become overheated, and needed a cool fresh cup of water.  

The moment he left, her refrained composure crumpled as she rocked back and forth in the chair. How did this happen? Why was she here? Closing her eyes, she searched her memory, trying to find any possible explanation for this. The last thing she remembered she had cut herself and ... her eyes opened with a sudden epiphany.

 Her hand had been covered in a mixture of blood and magic when she reached for the journal.  Had she unknowingly cast herself into the book when she touched it? Rumpelstiltskin always claimed that blood magic was one of the most powerful but dangerous in all of the lands.

Taking a long deep breath, she tried to recall every detail she read in the journal.  Based off of her conversation with Baelfire, they were already past the part of the story where Morraine had been taken away by the Duke’s men.

Her heart dropped, as she remembered what came next in the story. They couldn’t flee tonight, if they did they would surely be caught by Hordor and his men.

She would have to come up with a new plan quickly to get Baelfire out of town.

  After a few minutes, Baelfire returned with a bucket of water.  As she opened her mouth to tell him of their change of plans, she suddenly found herself transported to the cold darkened enchanted forest, as an array of soldiers and horses surrounded her.

Having lived with Rumpelstiltskin she was use to the sensation of being magically transported. In her early days at the castle, she had on quite a few occasions suddenly found herself outside the castle next to the clothesline with a basket of laundry. Although she found it annoying, she never was afraid, knowing that Rumple would never send her anywhere dangerous.

But this was not Rumple’s magic.

Her heart filled with trepidation, as the horses circled around her and Baelfire. It appeared the book had a will of its own, transporting her to the scene she had desperately wanted to avoid.  The story had already been written, and now she was forced to follow it.

Her heart pounded in her ears as Hordor spoke of treason, and ordered his men to take the boy.

“Don’t touch my son!” Belle cried out, feeling a fierce motherly protection as she moved Baelfire behind her.

Hordor’s chilling laugh filled the night air as he rode his horse next to her. “Kiss my boot.”

“What?” she asked in disbelief.

“Kiss my boot, and the boy can go home with you tonight. Or” he gave a small shrug, “you can kiss something else of mine.”  

Swallowing her pride she bent over to kiss the dastardly cretin’s muddy boot, but he moved his foot at the last minute, kicking her square in the ribs. As her bruised body started to fall towards the ground, she suddenly found herself sitting in front of a fireplace. Flustered by the abrupt change, it took her a moment to regain her bearings.

She was one again in the same hovel, but this time an old man sat across from her. Her thoughts immediately turned to Baelfire, as her eyes searched the room for him. A rush of relief filled her heart, as she spotted him sleeping on the straw cot.

He was safe…for now.

The old man cleared his throat clearly trying to regain her attention, as she drew her eyes back to him.

“As I was saying, The Duke has the Dark One in thrall. He's enslaved him with the power of a mystical dagger and on the blade is written a name – the true name of the Dark One. If you steal the dagger, then you would control the Dark One yourself. And then no one would be able to take your son away from you.”

Her heart stopped at the mention of the Dark One.  Was Rumpelstiltskin here in this story?   The journal had made no mention of the magical dagger having ties to the Dark One. It appeared that the book had decided to give her more information now, a clearer picture of the the story than what she had previously read.  

“Can you imagine,” the old man continued. “A poor lame soul with that much power. Why you could save all the children…not just your son.”

A spinning wheel, which wasn’t there before, suddenly came into her view.  It was sitting next to the pile of straw that she had previously awoken from.  Flabbergasted, her jaw hung open as she immediately recognized the object as the same one she spent many a day and night reading next to in the grand hall.  Her heart tugged forth a memory.

“Why do you spin so much?”

“It helps me to forget.”

“Forget what?”

Stupefied she pulled her gaze from the spinning wheel as another realization dawned upon her. Stumbling, she found her footing, as she hobbled towards the young sleeping boy. Her fingers brushed against the tattered shawl he had worn earlier which now doubled as his blanket.

Tears swelled in her eyes as she realized she had seen that very shawl before in a room at the Dark Castle.  She had always wondered who the small clothes had belonged to but now she knew. They belonged to his son. This was Rumpelstiltskin’s story.

Remembering she was not alone she spun on her heel, armed with a series of questions, but much to her surprise the old man was gone. Sighing at the sudden erratic changes the book bestowed she went to move the now unoccupied chair, but the scraping of the legs against the floor awoke Baelfire.

“Let me help you Mama,” he called out, but she held up her hand, silently halting him in place.

“It’s fine sweetheart,” she smiled, moving the chair to sit next to him as he laid back down. She gave a silent plea to whoever was guiding this, to allow her a little more time with him, before she was yanked away to face another part of the story.

Reaching out she tussled her fingers through his hair.

“You look so much like your father,” she marveled truly taking the time to look at him.  

“Will you tell me about him Mama?”

The hopefulness in his voice melted her heart. She recalled in the journal that they boy’s mother had left them, but instead of the truth, his father had told him she had died.   She could only assume now with the roles reversed and she here, that he believed his father to be dead.

“Well he was a very handsome man,” she smiled recalling the first time she had ever laid her eyes upon him. “He had a very hard exterior, intimidating for some, but when you got to know him, see the real person underneath it all, well…he was completely and utterly fascinating. I…” she looked down with a small blush to her cheeks. “I couldn’t get enough of being around him. He was such a mystery to be uncovered.”

Baelfire smiled wistfully. “I wish I knew him Mama. I wish he was with us now. ”

Leaning down, she kissed the top of his head. “So do I, sweetheart, so do I.”

Once Baelfire succumbed to sleep, Belle closed her eyes to pray. Although she had unexpectedly been thrusted into this situation, she was thankful for every moment she got with Baelfire. Although she wasn’t really his mother, the love she felt for him rivaled that of one.

As she continued to pray for their safety, a strong odor of smoke tickled at her nose. Concerned that an ember strayed from the fire, she opened her eyes to an inferno before her.

She wasn’t in their home though, she was now standing outside a castle as a fire blazed across its walls. Baelfire was at her side. Instinctively she wrapped her arm around his shoulder pulling him close to her. Looking down she saw a pile of soaked sheep wool, and realized that they must have started the fire with it.

“So what do we do next Mama?”

She wiped the sweat from her forehead, as the heat from the flames grew more sweltering.  Placing her hand on Baelfire’s shoulder she looked him in the eyes.

“You need to go. Whatever comes next I must do alone.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Go home Baelfire, I will be there later tonight, I promise.”

He turned to go, stopping after a few strides. “Be safe Mama. I love you.”

Smiling she spoke freely from her heart. “I love you too son.”

As he disappeared into the night, Belle turned her focus back to the fire before her. So this was the Duke’s castle, she surmised.  Closing her eyes she took a deep breath, mustering all of her bravery. She could do this. She would do this for Baelfire.  

Opening her eyes she walked towards the blazing castle with a mother’s determination burning in her heart.   Although she was unfamiliar with the layout of the castle, an unknown force guided her effortlessly through every passageway.

She soon found herself in a long hallway with multiple banners hanging from the wall.  She felt an uncontrollable pull to the green one. Lifting the banner back, she gasped as a long jagged dagger, with the name Zoso engraved upon it, sat on display. There was a heavy darkness in the air surrounding it, an electricity of sort that she had felt once before as she passed by a locked room in the Dark Castle.

As her fingers grasped around the handle, she abruptly found herself transported to a clearing outside the burning castle.

As she stood alone in the night holding the dagger, she felt utterly lost.

“I never got this far in the story…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she called out, hoping the book would take pity on her.

She waited for something, anything to happen, but a still cold silence surrounded her. Letting out a sigh, she looked down at the dagger in her hand. Did this really control the Dark One?  It seemed impossible.  If Belle was certain of one thing it was that Rumpelstiltskin was nobody’s puppet. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. Every deal he struck was of his own free will. He didn’t just come to every soul that called upon him.

It suddenly dawned on her. She had called upon a Dark One once before, and made a deal that changed her life, and now it appeared it was time to do it again. Holding the dagger up she spoke.  

“Zoso, Zoso, I summon thee.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose alerting her to his presence.

“You were asking for me?”

Do the brave thing, she thought and bravery will follow. Turning on her heel she saw a dark hooded figure before her. He took a step towards her, his face still shrouded.

She could tell quickly that this Dark One was very different than Rumpelstiltskin.  Rumple was known for his showmanship, openly strutting around, wanting every living creature near and far to see and know exactly who he was. This Dark One preferred to stay in the shadows, to impose a mysterious fear in the hearts of those who dared to call upon him.

“Wield the power of the dagger wisely. You can wield it anytime now. It's almost dawn. That means it's your son's birthday. I bet Hordor and his men are already on their way to your house. Unlike you he’s not a coward and yearns to fight and die in a battle of glory.”

Stunned speechless by his apparent knowledge of the situation, Belle stood silently looking at him. After a moment, the Dark One started to speak again, as if he was an actor reading from a script, and she had missed her cue.

“What a poor bargain that would be to lay down your soul down to have your bastard son safe. So, I ask you, what would you have me to do?”

Taken aback by his insinuations, Belle could see how a person could become flustered and act purely on emotion to counter this Dark One’s aggressive tactics.  Although she held the dagger, it appeared that Zoso was the one still in control.

“Show me your face,” she commanded.

Tilting his head in confusion, he pushed back the hood to reveal the familiar face of the old man who was in her home. Her jaw dropped at the sight of him.

“It’s you,” her body shook with rage.

“You wanted this. You manipulated him. You took advantage of a father’s love and his desperation. Rumpelstiltskin only became the Dark One to save his son! ” she screamed, as the as the dark one took two swift strides at her, wrapping his hand tightly around her neck.

“Who are you?” he hissed.

“Someone who loves them.”

The Dark One’s grip tightened around her neck, as he lifted her dangling body inches from the ground. “This isn’t your story, girl.”

She struggled to breathe as his grip tightened. As the world around her darkened, her final thoughts turned to Baelfire, and what grisly fate would await him if she died now. She had to protect him. For Rumpelstiltskin’s son, she would do what must be done.

With her last ounce of strength, she lifted her arm, plunging the dagger down towards Zoso’s back.

Jolting upright, she frantically looked around, mentally preparing for whatever scenario was next in the book, when a familiar voice rung in the air.

“It’s okay Belle. I’m here. You’re okay, sweetheart.”

Looking towards the sound, her heart leapt with joy at the sight of Rumpelstiltskin perched at her bed side.  

“Rumple!” she cried out, lunging for him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  She let out a sigh of contentment as his hands stroked her back.  She could have stayed in his embrace for hours, but all too soon he pushed her back away from him.  

“How do you feel, Belle? Does anything hurt?” he fretted as his tender eyes glanced over her.

“I…I don’t think so,” she replied uncertain.

Checking her right hand, she gazed astonishingly at how perfectly normal it was.  There wasn’t the slightest trace of the deep cut. She had no doubt that Rumple had healed it with his magic.  

Glancing around the familiar surroundings of her bed chamber, she knew she was safe. She was home.

“Belle….I,” her attention turned back to Rumple, who quickly stood up, ringing his hands nervously in front of him.  “My behavior…before…I…”

She cut off his apology. “It’s okay Rumple.”

“No,” he shook his head adamantly. “It was appalling. I want you to know…you are safe here Belle. I would,” his eyes watered, “I would never hurt you Belle. Never.”    

“I know, Rumple. I know.” She gave him a reassuring smile, as he stared at her in awe. Just then a log shifted in the fireplace, as the flames crackled to life.

The smell of the flames brought every memory back. The fire, the duke’s castle, Zoso.

Overwrought with concern her eyes searched the room.

“Where’s Baelfire? Is he safe?”

His brows furrowed at her for just a moment before he schooled his features.  

“There is no one here Belle. You were just dreaming.” With a flick of his wrist, the chipped teacup appeared on her night table. “Have some tea, and relax.”

“No,” she shook her head fiercely. “I was there, in the story. I…I don’t know how, but I was there in the book, Rumple. I was with him.  I was with Baelfire.” Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes.  “I was with your son.”

He stood stoically for a moment before his façade fell, and his shoulders slumped forward. He looked so small, defeated. Her stomach twisted in knots, but she pressed forward.

“That journal I was reading, it was yours. You stole the dagger from the Duke; you killed Zoso and became the Dark One to save your son.  

Voice quivering she asked the question she was scared to know the answer of.  “Please Rumple, I need to know, did you save Baelfire?

Moments of a heavy silence filled the room.

“Yes,” he croaked his voice small and timid. “I saved him from the ogres.”

She let out a cry of relief. “Oh thank the Gods!”

Her glee was quickly tempered as Rumple stood straight, a storm of anguish raging in his eyes.  

“Oh I wouldn’t celebrate Mistress. I saved him from one evil, only to lose him to an even greater one….myself.”

Her heart dropped. “What happened to him?”

He turned his back.

“The burden of losing him is mine alone.”

She could feel the pain in his voice, and felt an overwhelming desire to hold him.

“But it doesn’t have to be Rumpelstiltskin.”

Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, as she slid from her bed.  She was afraid if she approached him too quickly and tried to touch him, he would flee. Slowly she moved towards him, stopping a few feet away.  She didn’t know what to say, so she let her heart do the talking.

“Although my time with him was brief, I can assure you the impact Baelfire made on my heart was everlasting. He’s an easy boy to love…and I do love him, Rumple. I love him like he is my own.  ”

Biting her lip she tried to hold back her tears. “Please…tell me what happened to him.”

With a heavy broken sigh, Rumpelstiltskin kept his back turned as he relayed the sad tale of how Baelfire went alone through the portal to a Land without magic. She stood there quietly listening, as her heart broke for Baelfire and for the shattered father standing before her.

Once finished, he turned to face her, as she let out a tiny gasp at what she saw in his hands.

“I chose this, above my son that day.”

It looked the exact same as when she held it, except it was now engraved with Rumpelstiltskin’s name.  

“When I reunite with my son in the land without magic, I will right this wrong, and be rid of this dastardly thing once and for all.”

“Reunite? He’s…he’s alive?” she asked with a spark of hope in her voice.

“Oh, yes.”

Astonished, she held up her hands. “What are we waiting for Rumple? We should leave at once.” She looked towards the wardrobe wondering what to pack, as Rumple spoke.

“Belle,” his solemn voice cooled her excitement. “We can’t go…at least not yet.”

She looked at him quizzically.

“There is another story you need to hear.”

After handing her the cup of tea, Belle sat back on the bed quietly listening, as Rumpelstiltskin delved into all the failed attempts he made to reach the Land without Magic.

“I will start researching tomorrow Rumple. There has to be something you’ve missed, a magic bean…a portal somewhere. I’ll help you find it, I swear I won’t rest until I find a way.”

A genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Looking down, his hand hovered over her empty teacup, as it magically refilled.  

After taking a few sips, she noticed his face grew more serious.  

“I have found a possible way to the land without magic.”

Her eyes lit up, but he held his hand to temper her excitement.  “But it is a dark path, Belle. A curse. One that would affect many for a very long time.  I have painstakingly been putting the pieces in the place for years. It won’t happen now, but the time is coming soon when the curse will be cast.”

The thought of a curse terrified her, but what shook her even more was her inability to admonish him for it. What wouldn’t a parent do for their child? She herself had plunged the dagger into Zoso’s back to protect Baelfire. A parent’s love was the most beautiful but dangerous thing in the entire world.  

“Do what you must to find him.”

Tears swelled in his astonished eyes. She knew he wasn’t expecting her acceptance, which only made her want to give it to him all the more.

“Although I won’t stand in your way, I still want to try and find another way to the land without magic,” she clarified.  

“I know you do,” he gave her a mournful smile, as his eyes landed on the half drunken teacup in her hand.  “But sadly you won’t remember any of this.”

Her stomach dropped.

“You put something in the tea?” she asked in dismay.

He stood quickly, grasping the bedpost at the foot of her bed.

“You know too much, Belle. You know about the dagger, about Baelfire. The curse.”

A mixture of rage and hurt coiled in her stomach. “You don’t trust me?”

 “It’s now that Belle.” He let go of the bedpost. “I trust you more than anyone else in this world.”

“Then why?” she cried out.

 “There are a multitude of moving pieces that have to fall just right to reunite with my son, and you,” he placed his hands on his heart. “You. Sweet…beautiful Belle can be used as a pawn against me.”

His words did little to placate the betrayal she felt in her heart.

“I would never tell anyone, you know that Rumple. I would never betray you.”

He looked pained, as he dejectedly sat down on the edge of her mattress.

“I know that. Truly I know that Belle. But I have enemies that would use any means necessary to get whatever information they could to destroy me. You can’t know any of the things you do, for my safety…and more importantly for your own.”

Her wet tears fell heavy and hard against her cheeks.

“But I don’t want to forget him. I don’t want to forget about Baelfire.”

Her confession drew him to her in an instant. His warm hands cupped her cheeks, and although she was still angry with him, she did not pull away as his own sorrowful eyes looked upon her.

“We will see him again Belle. I swear it.”

As his fingers wiped the tears from her eyes, she felt a sudden wave of drowsiness.  

“It’s okay sweetheart, it’s just the magic taking effect.

His hands moved from her face, as she felt his arms wrap around her.

“That’s it Belle,” she heard his voice coo as he moved her up toward the pillows. “Sleep sweet Bell, and when you awake everything will be as before.”

As her head hit the pillow, she used what little strength she had left to confess.

“I wish I really could be his mother,” she mumbled.

 The last thing she heard as sleep overtook was Rumple’s faint response.

“So do I.”

I couldn’t just leave it there….I’m a sucker for happy endings!

“I’m back Mama,” four year Gideon called out, as the front door slammed close. She was still struggling to get off the couch, when Gideon excitedly ran over to her.

“Did you and your brother have fun at the zoo today sweetheart?”

Gideon nodded . “Neal and I saw the tigers and they were so cool.” He placed his small hands on her pregnant belly. “Can we take little sister to see them when she comes?”

“Of course,” Belle responded looking up as Neal walked into the living room. Plopping down on the other end of the couch, he rubbed his bone tired eyes.

“I don’t know how you guys do this day in and day out. I swear this kid gets more energy throughout the day.” Neal yawned.  “Does he come with an off switch?”

Laughing, Belle lifted her son’s arms, pretending to search. “Let me see, do you come with an off switch, Gideon?”

Howling with laughter, Gideon shook his head. “Nope,” as he wiggled off of his mother’s lap, barreling straight for his older brother, who caught him with a resounding, “umph.”

It warmed Belle’s heart to see the bond between the two brothers despite their staggering age difference. With Henry now 16 and living primary with his mother Emma, Neal was able to give much of his time to his younger brother, who thought the world of him.

“Where’s pops?” Neal asked as Gideon settled into his arms.

“He went to pick up dinner, chinese alright with you?”

“It could never be wrong,” Neal said with a smirk.

The reconciliation between Neal and Rumplestiltskin had been a long fought journey, but in the end the bond between father and son was stronger than ever.

“So how did everything go today?”

Resting her hands on her belly she smiled. “Good. The doctor says everything looks great, and she’s developing right on schedule.”

“That’s great, Belle.” Neal stated as Gideon crawled up to wrap his small arms around his neck.

“Why do you call her that?” Gideon asked as Neal looked at him puzzled.

“Cause that’s her name, silly!”

“No,” Gideon countered. “Why don’t you call mom, mom?”

“Gideon, honey,” Belle started to speak, when Neal cut her off.

“No, no it’s okay Belle, it’s a valid question.” Turning his attention back to Gideon, Neal explained that he lost his mother when he was younger. Upon hearing the news Gideon eagerly volunteered to help him find her.

“I’m really good and hide and seek. I bet I can find her.” Gideon crowed.

Biting her lip, Belle gently explained that Neal’s mother was not lost.

“Do you remember what happened with your pet hamster, Gideon?”

Bowing his head in sadness, Gideon spoke. “He went to heaven.”

“Well that is where Neal’s mother went,” Belle explained.

Belle watched as Gideon turned his attention back on his older brother, before giving him a hug. After a moment Gideon looked up at Neal with bright eyes.

“I know…my mom can be your mom too.”

“Gideon,” Belle chided, but he continued.

“We have the same Dad, and I’m sure Mom will be happy to be your Mom too, wouldn’t you Mom?” Gideon asked looking over at her.

Caught off guard Belle found herself speechless. It was true that she was Neal’s stepmother, but the fact that he was actually four years older than her, made for an awkward situation at first. But as time passed they fell into a caring friendship, and truth be told, she took on a motherly role often consoling and counseling him through obstacles he faced in his life.

“Of course I would Gideon but…” she didn’t quite know what to say, when Neal chimed in.

“I’m game if you are?” Neal asked smiling.

Belle’s heart fluttered at the idea.

“I would love it,” Belle responded with a smile.

[antihero-writings]

Hey world

I don’t usually make posts like this, especially not here, and if it wasn’t 3:00 in the morning I certainly wouldn’t be posting it, but.

I’m feeling a bit down tonight

I had yucky night last night, barely slept at all, then a pretty yucky day today.

I watch youtubers at night to calm down a bit before settling in to go to sleep. Tonight, because I wanted to sleep more than last night, I just wanted to watch a quick video, and go to bed.

However the video I watched ended up sending me into a mental tailspin, because these people I like and look up to were being very negative towards FanFiction. It’s not necessarily something unexpected or that I haven’t heard before, and maybe it was just a joke, but it just hit different today. After feeling crappy all day I just wanted something nice before bed and getting this instead just made me feel really awful.

I love my fics even if no one else does, and I still write for fandoms no one cares about or comments on because I want to write for them. I know the stereotypes about FanFiction in general aren’t true...but it still chips away at me when people treat FanFiction like it’s not real writing, or any of the other terrible things they say. It ignites that little voice in my head saying what I’m doing is worthless.

Lately I’ve been feeling no one really looks at or cares about this blog anymore. I hope that’s not true, that that’s just those negative voices. (And I do know my friends care, and hey, my castlevania stuff got some notes, so that was a huge help these past few days, and the biggest of thank yous to all my friends who stick with me, and to anyone who interacted with those fics or messaged me recently, as well as in the past).

At the same time, I’ve got a number of followers...and still have gotten zero notes on multiple things I posted fairly recently (in addition to in the past). Obviously certain fandoms will get more notes than others, just due to general fandom activity levels, I know that. I know my worth isn’t determined by the amount of notes I get...but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to have a hundred followers and see my own reblogs staring back at me from the notes.

I have to actively fight off that voice telling me I’m worthless every time I post something and it seems like no one cares...and it just gets harder and harder to fight that voice, tell it it’s wrong, when it happens so often.

So...If you are someone who genuinely likes my work...could you please consider saying so today? Be it in the replies, in an ask, commenting on an old fic...whatever. Any way. Even it’s literally just “hey I like your work.” Even the shortest comment is still a comment. 5 words can make the biggest difference in my life. I’m not over exaggerating when I say your comments make my week. There are certain comments I still remember the exact wording of many months later. And tonight ...I’d really like to know people still do care, read and like my work.

If there’s something I’m doing wrong, that’s offputting, that’s keeping people from interacting with my work, or just something I could be doing better, would you please please let me know that as well? I’ve been wondering that for a good while too.(In all likelihood I’ll see your comments on this post in the morning and will be more open to constructive criticism.)

And if you are someone who did/does comment on my fics and/or reblogs them, or someone who replied to me with something nice when I messaged you...even if you’ve only done it once, even if you comment was small...THANK. YOU. Thankyou ThankyouThankyou. Thank you. thank you. THANK YOU. You seriously have no idea how much that means to me. How you shoot a little bit of life back into me, when you do that. How you give me weapons to fight that voice.

I want to be a professional author some day, and writing FanFiction is one step along that road. But a large reason I thought posting FanFiction would be a good step is to start to create a community around my writing early so that when I do write books there’s already some readers...but it doesn’t seem like that happening much at all. There’s always been a voice in my head saying that being a writer is too hard that I’ll never make it. That I’m throwing my life away. But lately that voice has been screaming at me, and I am just so sick of the fight and tonight it’s just...too much.

So if you have any encouragement at all, no matter how small, please I’m begging you to say something. To help me maybe have a better day tomorrow.

I apologize if I’m wasting your time and mine, or if this itself is super offputting. I might even delete this post later. I just...needed to vent tonight.

[cupiscent]

I don't know if I can resolve this! XD I can try! This is Tenet but it's also a soap opera AND eighth grade: so Neil rolls in looking like death, takeaway coffee in one hand and a folder of Very Important Top Secret Documents in the other and when the Protagonist catches a glimpse he is instantly reminded of Mumbai - so he has to look away and shut the blinds of his office. Neil, for his part, makes a beeline for his desk and settles in without even raising his head. All good! Thank god Ives is otherwise occupied and can't see them or he would have never been able to un-roll his eyes. He shows up only later, to retrieve from Neil the keys to his house.

"Did you lock the door on the way out?"

"I don't remember."

"You're so funny. And you look like shit."

"Why, thank you. I only aim to impress."

"I do always say: have zero expectations..."

"...and you'll never be disappointed," Neil says with the first genuine smile of the day. "Thank you, Ives," he continues. "For everything."

Ives shakes his head. "I - never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing." He was about to let it slip that seeing his best friend (!) in that state had broken his heart but phew! Recovered just in time. "Can you manage tonight?"

Neil shrugs in a very Neil way, all the way up to his mouth and face. "It's a boring stakeout. I could run it in my sleep."

"Neil."

"Unless there's something else going on that I should know?"

Ives' glance lingers for a moment, searching. "There isn't." (1/2)

And it's night time! Survaillance time! Neil is in a nondescript car checking his gears, comms and stuff, and thinking maybe he jumped the gun when he told Ives he had this because his head is freaking pounding and he can't concentrate on anything - when the door on the passenger side opens and the Protagonist slides smoothly in the seat. Neil tries to hide his heart attack. "What are you doing?"

The Protagonist has brought him tea! "I thought you might want something hot."

"Right. It's July. It's only 30 degrees outside."

"But it's night."

"So 25 degrees."

Neil takes a sip anyway, looking straight ahead. The Protagonist looks out of his window.

"Are you briefed in?" Neil asks finally.

"Yes, of course."

Neil goes back to the tea and they sit in silence until the Protagonist can't take it anymore.

"Listen, I'm sorry. About the things I said. I'm an asshole."

Neil makes a noncommital sound with his throat. The protagonist bites on his bottom lip.

"I thought you were happy," he says after another long moment. "With what we had."

Neil doesn't hesitate. "You were right."

"Then what?"

"You tell me."

The Protagonist shuts his eyes and sighs. "I don't - I don't know how," he says thickly. He barely gets the last word out.

Neil shakes his head. "Alright," he says softly. He is very quiet for awhile, then he seems to make out his mind about something and he turns in his seat. "You know that I love you."

The Protagonist straightens himself. "And I love you."

"I guess I..." Neil says slowly, "I guess I didn't think it would be this hard. It feels like we're constantly waiting..." he muses, "...for the other shoe to drop."

"Neil -

"Please let me finish," Neil says evenly. "Whatever unforgivable secret you think you're keeping - it's in the past. Or in the future. I don't care. I only care when it gets in the way of our life, here and now."

The Protagonist doesn't know what to say. He inhales and exhales and his breath trembles in him. He extends a hand and Neil holds onto it.

"Our life?"

"Yeah," Neil confirms. "The one I've chosen." (2/2)

And in the meantime, their target comes and goes undetected! XD No, it doesn't, they're super spies! Anyway, I don't know, after the initial hurt I just think that Neil doesn't need things to be spelled out to him. He now knows what's up right?

Awwwww ❤ And I agree, I see Neil as someone who... doesn’t want to second-guess himself? Doesn’t want to know what will happen in case that stops him being himself and doing what he would. Doesn’t want to invite tomorrow’s clouds into today’s sunshine.

Also I just love what you’ve done here with these impromptu bits and I really encourage you to work it up into a fic so I can lavish it with kudos. 😄 And if you (or anyone!) wants to talk more about it, feel free to pop into my DMs.

(...one of the days when I’m thinking very strongly about how great it would be to have a Tenet discord server for some serious chatter omg...)