#oh yeah the rules under the book sheet are just for me personally to remember. i know they're not official

[slightlydraconic]

I'm very excited to start @batmanisagatewaydrug's 2025 book bingo! This is such a fun variety of categories. I haven't decided what I'll read for most of the spaces yet, but I have a few ideas to start:

Reread a Childhood Favorite: Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke was my absolute jam as a kid and I've been meaning to revisit it for awhile.

Sequel: Recently learned that Dragon Rider has a sequel, The Griffin's Feather, which I've never read! Amazing!

Published Before 1950: I've never actually read all of Dracula by Bram Stoker, and I really want to this year.

Bookseller or Librarian Rec.: One of my friends is a librarian, and in the past he has highly recommended The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, which intrigues me.

I'll be looking for more titles to fit the other categories, and am definitely taking recommendations if anyone has them!

[sukirichi]

the morning after – gojo satoru ver!

warnings: slight dirty talk and suggestive content, like the yuuji one, nothing too explicit! Oh and a teasing, cheeky gojo :>

masterlist ! (photo not mine)

It doesn’t hit you until you’re whacked by an arm in the face. Literally.

You whine and push the foreign weight away that smushed your nose at the impact, less than pleased because you’re having the best of your life, but someone had to ruin it. Nevertheless, you refuse to open your eyes and settle into the warmth that encases you in that moment. It reminds you of your precious unicorn plushie you left back at your apartment; cuddly, precious, keeps the nightmares away, but the best part about this human teddy bear is that he’s all firm muscles and body heat instead of fur cotton.

Wait, what? Human?

It’s when you hear the man stirring above you with a husky groan that you freeze in your spot, eyes snapping wide open your vision blurs for a split second. The first thing you see is smooth skin and firm pecs, followed by a slender, strong neck and a sharp jawline – oh god.

So last night wasn’t a dream.

Clenching your teeth and even biting the inside of your cheeks to stop squealing – more out of embarrassment and shame than happiness, really – you slowly reach up between your squished bodies to pinch your cheeks, bringing blood and feeling back into them. No wonder you’ve slept so well last night, and as someone who prefers pulling an all-nighter until you pass out in the middle of an anime series, it’s quite rare to find a good eight hour sleep.

It’s not like you had much...activities performed that would take up too much energy. Until Gojo Satoru came, the teacher from the Tokyo school, and also the notoriously infamous “strongest jujutsu sorcerer.”

You’ve had a crush on him the moment you’ve started working as a teacher in the Kyoto school. Utahime, who was closer to him, was incredibly appalled when you told her one day about your raging crush on the white-haired man who looked absolutely breathtaking with his blindfold, but without them?

Just the thought of having seen them last night, when he was between your legs, no less, has you inwardly groaning and cringing so hard you feel so shameful that you can’t even look him in the eye. Satoru is fast asleep above you, one of his strong arms lazily draped over the curve of your waist and his fingers brushing against your bum. When you shift a little to give you both space, his fingers begin to hover dangerously close to a sensitive area and you let out a tiny squeak, muffling it with the back of your fist before he awakens.

This man had the Six Eyes – the last thing you wanted was for him to sense and notice the little things and wake up. No, you had to leave before he even gets the chance to move.

The chances of not waking him up was pretty slim, but you’ve always been proud of your sneaky movements that you try anyway. Fortunately, Satoru doesn’t seem to be a hardcore cuddler because he doesn’t pull you back when you finally slip past the sheets.

You freeze for a moment at the edge of the bed, still in disbelief that you actually slept with him. No, no, that’s wrong, you’d have slept with him anytime if he allowed it but – he actually slept with you. It’s not that you’re looking down on yourself because you’re also a special grade sorcerer and could stand your own ground confidently, but your powers when it comes to exorcising and your social skills are two different things that don’t even come close together.

You’re not worried that a special grade curse would kill you and take away your privilege of finishing that new manga you bought in your day off because you know you could handle it easily, but as a person, there’s a stark difference between you and Satoru.

True, he wasn’t exactly liked by everyone because he refused to be limited by rules and regulations, always claiming that one should not be hindered by the narrow-mindedness of the others, but it was something you really admired about him because you’re not like that. You’re old school, sticking by the book, much like his co-worker Nanami Kento who equally hates overtime, and while Gojo Satoru was loud and confident, you’re more of the person who stays by a corner during a party.

Which is exactly what happened last night at Utahime’s birthday party – aka the old wrinkly principal isn’t here so let’s get wasted type of party.

You’re not surprised that Gojo Satoru walked in, but when he did, you had to clutch your spirit water and drink it in haste because he’s got you feeling thirstier than you did last night – and you drink your water plenty. But how could you remain sane when he looked so gorgeous in just his uniform and his laughter has butterflies erupting in your stomach?

Truth was, you’re satisfied watching him from afar. It’s not like you ever plan on asking him out or being his friend because you’re sure Satoru has better things to do and prettier people to talk to, so when he sits next to you in the desolate leather couch, legs crossed over one another and his arm right behind you (although not touching, he respects your space) you nearly pass out.

One thing leads to another, and you find yourself writhing under his arms, shamelessly crying his name over and over again until the dead hours of the night that has his ego inflating.

You don’t remember how or exactly why it happened, but definitely, alcohol had to be involved. There’s no way Gojo Satoru would actually notice you, much less sleep with you, when he’s completely sober, which is why you scramble around the room with the blanket covering your bare body as you look for your discarded clothes.

If he wakes up and sees you, he’ll probably regret everything that happened last night, if he remembers any of it, anyway.

But you’re most definitely mostly sober through the whole thing, so you remember how good he was in making you feel like a goddess. The way he sucked on your neck, licking a stripe at your burning skin while his large hands groped your breasts possessively, all the while rutting in that perfect spot that has your eyes rolling at the back of your head with your nails running down his back – you shiver just thinking about it.

Gojo Satoru really has that effect on people.

You hide your flustered state and quickly pull on your undergarments, about to slip the sweater over your head, only to die on the inside because you realize you’re wearing those full cotton panties instead of sexy lingerie. With a groan, you fight back the urge to cry. But then again, who could blame yourself for not dressing sexily? It’s not like you had any idea that this would happen.

You’re halfway through your jeans when Gojo’s husky morning voice breaks through the silence. “Leaving already?” you hear him smile, although your back is turned to him, face completely morphed into terror. “Such a shame. I was actually thinking shower sex sounds nice – if you’re into that, of course.”

“Satoru,” you greet lamely with a bow, avoiding the way his stunning eyes raked over your form with an unreadable dark expression. “Uh, you’re awake, and...good morning, I guess.”

Gojo smirks at your flushed cheeks, and it takes everything not to stare at the way his biceps strain from the way he supports his head, hair sticking in every direction and looking absolutely sexy in the morning light. “Good morning to you too, Y/N,” your breath stifles, because he knows your name? “Although it would be an ever better morning if you weren’t such in a rush to leave,” he chuckles, “It makes me feel like maybe you regret what happened last night.”

Your head snaps up at his words as you shakily wiggle your arms, “No, that’s not true, I loved every second of it! It was...it was the best night of my life,” your cheeks tinge a shade darker when Gojo beams at your words, chest almost puffing out proudly. Shyly, you turn away from him and fiddle with the hem of your sweatshirt. “I just...I didn’t think you’d still want me here around, because you were drunk last night and all and I thought maybe you’ll regret it, which I don’t want to happen so yeah, I just thought I’d leave before I get to...” you clear your throat awkwardly, “...be rejected like that.”

“Y/N,” his voice falls an octave lower, the thoughts in your head growing so loud you don’t even hear that he’s already left the bed, and now he’s cradling your chin until you’re forced to witness the galaxies burning in his eyes. “You thought I was drunk last night and did it because I was just horny? That I would regret it and forget all about it?”

His proximity has your breath stuttering, your eyelashes slapping your cheeks as you blink rapidly. “Well, uhm, I’m not really your type, so I think it was safe to assume that.”

Gojo hums at your words, his calloused thumb running over your lips. A small smile flits across his face when he remembers how much of a good girl you were for him last night, obediently opening those lips up and letting him bask in the warmth of your wet cavern before swallowing all he has to give. Funnily enough, Gojo isn’t the best with his words, so he just tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before sighing.

“I wasn’t drunk,” he finally admits. The confession has you slipping from his grasp, but Gojo snakes his arm around the small of your back to pull you to him, the warmth of his bare skin seeping into your clothes. However, it’s nothing compared to the lust and adoration burning in his eyes – one you can’t properly fathom in this clouded state. “Tipsy, sure, but I assure you I was aware and sober for every little part,” his lips hover at your ear, one of his hands coming at the back of your neck to tilt your head to the side, granting him access to the hickeys he’d purposely left.

Just the sight of his markings on your perfect body has a tent growing in his pants. You feel his erection rub at the pad of your jeans, eliciting a small whine from you, and this makes Gojo resist the urge to bend you over right then and there. But he doesn’t do that, because he knows your body is too tired from his ministrations, and he’s nice enough to give you a break – even if that’s not exactly what your burning core wants at that moment.

“Like the way you clenched around my cock when I hit that sensitive spot of yours,” he laughs when you shiver at the way his breath tickles you, “Or how pretty you look when you cream around my cock, begging me to go harder because you can take it, and baby, I promise you, I loved it just as much as you did.”

Finally, Gojo pulls back, and he’s extremely satisfied when he sees how small and innocent you look just like that, as if he hadn’t just folded you in half to watch the way your pretty pussy welcome him and take him better than anyone else just hours ago.

“But,” he continues, “I think I enjoyed it a lot more, considering I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time now,” at his words, you furrow your brows, and that’s when he realizes his mistake. Gojo reverts back to his usual lighthearted self and fans his hand out almost comically with his hands on his hips. “I mean, not just the sex, though it is amazing, but having you close is what I meant. Like holding your hand or getting to kiss you,” he sighs dreamily as if you’re not in the same room as him.

“Uh,” you awkwardly begin, unsure of what to say. “Are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, which shouldn’t have been such a sexy look on him, but because he’s Gojo, it was. “But Utahime said she’d cut my balls off if I even get near you. Thank goodness she was too drunk last night to ever see it, but I’m glad I talked to you. I’m just ashamed I’m only saying this after the sex but...would you like to go out with me?”

Thanks to his Six Eyes ability, Gojo is blessed with the privilege of seeing you malfunction before him as you try to find your words.

[carpecerevisiam]

Rumrollins Week 2021

May 31st: Free Day!

So @quillingyousoftly broke my heart with THIS, and you should read it (if you haven’t already)

Brock is in the middle of cooking dinner when his phone rings. 

It’s his landline though, not his cell, so he ignores it. Anyone important who needs to get hold of him knows to call his cell, and the unknown caller rings off without leaving a message.

They try again though, half an hour later and just as Brock is stepping into the bath, and then again once he’s done and toweling off, but this time they don’t hang up.

“I think it’s time for you to fuck off, Mr Telemarketer,” he growls, stomping through the hall to where the phone is still ringing, but just as he’s about to yank out its cord, the answerphone kicks in.

“Commander Rumlow, this is Commander Harrison at the San Francisco field office. Please give me a—”

Brock snatches the handset out of its cradle so quickly that he almost fumbles it. “Yeah, I’m here,” he says, sudden fear making his heart skip a beat. “What is it?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then Harrison sighs. “Commander, are you aware that you’re listed as Jack Rollins’ next of kin?”

Brock closes his eyes. He can’t speak, can’t breathe. He spoke to Jack just a few days ago. God, it hasn’t even been a week.

“Commander?”

“Yeah,” he manages to say around the tightness in his throat. He feels lightheaded. “Yeah, I am. What, um… what’s happened?”

---

He feels numb. 

He doesn’t feel sad, or angry, or confused. Jack is dead, but Brock doesn’t feel anything at all.

The medical examiner is going to rule it a suicide. There isn’t much doubt about the cause of death because Jack left the bottle of pills on the kitchen counter. But any death of a SHIELD agent raises eyebrows, and that means an autopsy, and an autopsy means a delay before Brock can take him home.

He’s going to go back to D.C. with a coffin and one duffel bag.

“You’re telling me that this is it?” Brock asks. The look he gives Harrison could strip paint, but the other man simply shrugs.

Jack’s personal effects amount to five t-shirts; two pairs of jeans and a pair of gray slacks; a couple of jumpers; two button-down shirts; a pair of sneakers and one pair of black dress shoes; one gray blazer; underwear and socks; workout gear; a razor; a phone; a wallet; and a couple of books.

And a framed picture of the two of them that had been found next to Jack’s body. Brock remembers that photo well; Jack had taken it and immediately announced that he thought he looked stupid in it.

Brock cleans the smudges from the glass, wraps it up in one of Jack’s jumpers, and then places it carefully at the very top of the bag.

Jack’s entire life fits into one duffel bag, and Brock has it all packed away again in under two minutes.

“He was always quiet, you know?” Harrison starts, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. “We’d invite him out for drinks but he’d always decline, and we just... We didn’t think anything of it. Plenty of guys like to keep work and home separate, right? Don’t want to take work home, don’t want to bring home to work… You know how it goes.” Brock doesn’t say anything, and Harrison continues on quietly. “He was a bit odd, but he was a great agent. He used to show us all up on the mats, every single week. I guess we should have—” 

“Don’t blame yourself. You couldn’t have known,” Brock cuts in brusquely. He lifts the bag onto his shoulder. “Now, where was he living?”

---

Brock is no stranger to death, but even so it is an eerie sensation stepping into Jack’s apartment.

SHIELD hadn’t bothered to find him somewhere nice, but it’s serviceable. It has just one single bedroom, and a very small kitchen, but there’s no damp on the walls, no signs of pests, and he can’t hear the neighbors through the walls.

He doubts very much that they ever heard Jack, either.

Harrison had assured him that the apartment had been left as it was found, but Brock is still half-convinced that he has the wrong place, because there’s no sign that Jack lived here.

Hell, there’s no sign that anyone lived here.

The living room walls are bare; the kitchen cupboards are empty. In the fridge, Brock finds a solitary box of leftover takeout, and there’s a bar of soap on the side of the bathroom sink. He steps through to the bedroom expecting it to be every bit as nondescript as the rest of the apartment, but it isn’t, because the sheets on the right-hand side of the bed are still wrinkled from where Jack had laid down to die.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Jackie,” Brock breathes. His eyes start stinging as he takes in the sight.

He had wondered why Jack had taken pills when a self-inflicted gunshot would have been easier, but now it makes sense; SHIELD would have needed to clean and redecorate, and Jack would have wanted to minimize the unpleasantness his death would cause. He would have felt bad about ruining someone’s day by forcing them to scrub blood and brain matter off the wall and out of the carpet.

Brock sinks to the floor as the tears finally come. He can’t stop looking at the bed. Jack had called him from that bed to say goodbye—only Brock hadn’t known that. He’d told him that he’d call him later, but without really meaning it. Work had been frantic that week, and Brock had been feeling overwhelmed. He had just wanted some peace and quiet; an evening to himself without interruptions.

But Jack had been dying, and Brock had blown him off.

[genaleah]

ANSWERING WILDCARD QUESTIONS

For the first time in about a year maybe??? Some of these might be even older than that.

Yes, it is Korka! I definitely want her involved, she’s a wonderful character and there is a *lot* of fun paranormal stuff going on in this setting that she can help them research. Also, I’d just love for her and Nelson to become friends!

Thank you! I love him a lot, and it’s fun to picture him interacting with the other guys. They’d all make for some interesting uncle figures, but they might not be that great in terms of role models.

OHOHO. Devilish laugh. That’s a wonderful idea, and a good way to keep him occupied at some point. He’s a great character, but he’s incredibly powerful, and I want these dudes to solve their own problems whenever possible. 

A good question! I don’t remember most of my dreams, but there’s usually a consistent look to the vivid ones. Lots of water, mountains, creeks, and high, winding roads. There are also a lot of buildings that are closely integrated with nature, even though I have almost never seen construction like that. 

I had not, but now I have! Here’s a trailer, for anyone else that missed it:

https://youtu.be/33HXHaaagsw

I really like these new models! I’m looking forward to watching a playthrough when that’s available. Just like with Rhombus of Ruin, I don’t think I’ll be able to play this one myself.

DOUBLE FINE, I WISH TO SPEAK WITH YOU- no, I’m kidding! I think great minds think alike. But I’m really excited to learn more about that character and possibly involve them in this whole au eventually. 

I’ve actually tried to avoid almost any info about Psychonauts 2 so I can go in mostly-blind, and a lot of the characters are vague to me. It’s fun to look forward to, but it’s also a little harrowing because I don’t know how to anticipate for it!

N...NO..... I NEED TO... Honestly those are old enough that it might be a good idea for me to re-make them, as well as the playing cards I made for the mega playlist cover. I think it’d be nice to remake them as vectors... that might make for a nice art stream sometime. I’ll mention publicly if I start doing that, and sharing any of these conceptual Wildcards arts when they’re done. 

And if you’re just curious about what the tarot cards for the other characters are going to be, it’s this:

Eddie: Judgement, The Magician, The Emperor

Manny: Death, Justice, The World

Sam: The Chariot, The Tower, Strength

Max: The Devil, Wheel of Fortune, Joker

Although! I may actually give the Moon card to Max instead of the Devil, and replace the missing card from Nelson’s selection with the High Priestess?  🤔  I’ll decide when I get to it.

Could be! I’ve flip-flopped occasionally on if I want the split-a-cab gang to participate much in the story. I think they deserve a break, and splitting an apartment in New York seems like a good situation for the four of them.

Oh boy, that must be so disorienting for him. The Psychonauts deal with a lot of hippy-dippy weirdness in a seemingly organized way, but it seems like they’re not as paranoid about safety as a real federal organization would be. Not necessarily a good thing, considering one of their camp counselors went AWOL one day, and the head of the Psychonauts got kidnapped the next. They kinda need to get their act together.

Fun fact, in one of the earlier drafts of Chapter 3 I was actually going to make Nelson get scanned by the equivalent of a metal-detector for malevolent thoughts at the door and get really spooked by it, but I decided against it.

YEAH IT’S ON THE LIST

Honestly, a big bulk of the plot in this just regards characters having to face their mental health struggles... via facing it as literal internal demons, unstable powers, etc.  It’s going to take a little while for any of Eddie’s teammates to realize how MUCH he has going on under the surface because he does a pretty good job of hiding it. “Needing to help others above ever helping themselves” is a hard issue to notice if you’re not looking for it. But it’s a guarantee that once they find out he needs help, they’ll give it; whether that’s making sure he’s not working himself too hard, or fighting off demonic cultists. Care comes in many forms.

SHE NEEDS TO REST.... POOR SYBIL (on the upside, they don’t TECHNICALLY work there, so she might be fine most of the time.)

Strong Bad isn’t a Psychonaut! He’s just a vlogger and a petty (psychic) criminal. It’s honestly not very different from canon.

Free Country, USA is a smalltown hotbed of psychic activity. Nearly everyone there has some mild capacity for supernatural powers, but nobody really notices or cares. Strong Bad just pops the tops off of cold ones and.... sometimes alters reality, a tiny bit. But mostly just in regards to media. The cartoons, comics, etc, that he invents and talks about have a tendency to suddenly voip into existence and nobody knows how. I swear, there’s actually a line of him saying something to this effect, but I can’t find it anywhere.  Don’t worry about it! Nobody in town is ever going to do anything truly nefarious with their powers, so it’s not a high priority on the Psychonauts’ radar, just a weird footnote.

The only reason Homestar is an actual agent is because he seems like exactly the kind of guy to sign up for a job like that on accident and then stick with it. And he’s a talented telekinetic! None of his other friends know about his job or notice his absences.

And just for fun, here’s some weird instances of psychic overpowering that happened in the cartoon:

---

(Poor Strong Sad)

I’ve actually answered this one before! BAM  Pretty sure all of it is still accurate.

Nelson: He sees floating sheets of paper containing notes, questions, etc. Anything that he wants to know more about regarding that person. The notes are subject to edits, cross-outs, ripped pages, etc.

Guybrush: He sees the item that the person is carrying that he wants most. As he gets to know people better, he sees them for their useful skills first.

Manny: His view of most living people is not very kind...

The people he’s closest to will eventually look a lot less garish. More like a flattering, camera-ready versions of themselves.

Eddie: Sickass sketch drawings that look like they belong in the margins of a composition book. The illustrations improve as he gets a better picture of where they’d fit in the internal lore of his mental world.

Sam: A lot like Nelson; Sam pictures case files, though his are a bit more in-depth.

Max: Max’s visions of people are highly personal and uncomfortable for those who witness them. He sees Nelson as a puzzle with a piece missing. Guybrush is a ripped up voodoo doll. Manny is a forgotten ofrenda. Eddie is a powder keg with a long, lit fuse. Sam is Sam, but he’s the wrong one.

I also got two questions that were pretty big subjects, or that I didn’t want to repeat, so I’m gonna cover them pretty broadly:

REGARDING [X] CHARACTER OR SERIES INCLUDED IN THE AU

Sure, I support it! I’ve gotten this question a few times in regards to things that I haven’t had time to delve into yet, or I’m not interested in, so I’m not going to include it into the AU myself. But if you want to explore an idea like that, feel free! This AU is pretty dang collaborative.

My main focus is just on the main 6 properties: Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max.

But my general rule of thumb for “characters that exist somewhere within the background of this story” are any other properties owned by Telltale, Lucasarts, or Double Fine. And considering all of the licensed games that Telltale was getting into before it kicked the bucket, that includes some really weird characters, even up to the Venture Bros. I loved that series, but I’m not really interested in doing anything with them for this story! Partly for my sanity, the canon I’ve picked are already a lot of content to play with. 

ASSORTED QUESTIONS ABOUT THE WILDCARD AU DISCORD

There’s no particular criteria needed to join the discord, and it’s not strictly on a need-to-know basis! Because it’s been a long while since anyone has joined, I've been hesitant about adding new people in... But I‘ve decided to try sending invitations again! Everyone who had asked about it in the past will be getting a ping by me in about a day or so, since I want to double-check if you’re still interested. If you’ve been nervous to ask you can reply to this post or message me privately.

Some things to keep in mind before asking or accepting the invite:

If you’re not a friend or a follower I recognize, I will likely double-check your tumblr along with some other current members before sending the invite. 

Here’s the Rules page, so you know what to expect before you join: 

Be Mindful - Respect other people's boundaries, don't do or say things that would cross the line. If your behavior makes other people feel uncomfortable or unsafe, I will remove you from the chat. In most cases I will try to resolve things with you and offer a chance to do better, but that will depend on the severity of the situation. And if you have any concerns regarding another member of the chat, you can contact me privately.

Health Boundaries - While discussions of mental health do occasionally pop up, do not rely on the chat for help. None of us are equipped to handle serious mental health concerns, and it will only cause distress for everyone. Please seek real help if it is needed! If you rely on people beyond the point that they have asked you to stop, I will remove you from the chat.

NSFW - Generally speaking, try to keep NSFW talk to a minimum. Swearing and humor is fine, but don't get too explicit please! Discussions should usually keep to a PG-13 / occasional R, but no NC-17.

Spoilers & Censorship - Please use the spoiler function to hide story spoilers, as well as discussions and graphic depictions of gore/excessive blood/body horror/severe psychological horror. Include a content warning so that people know what they could potentially be seeing when they click on the censored content. If the spoilered content is the subject of a back-and-forth discussion, please use another warning when you are switching to a different spoilered topic. (Note that these rules were added to the chat later, so be careful when using the search function or back reading.)

The canon series involved with the Wildcard AU are Psychonauts, Puzzle Agent, Monkey Island, Grim Fandango, Brutal Legend, and Sam & Max. Please be mindful of story spoilers!

Channel Organization - Also be mindful of which channel you're in and move a discussion over if need be! That way they don't get too clogged with unrelated info.

Creative Criticism - When it comes to writing, art, or character creation; try to be open to suggestions from others! Nearly all of the creative work in the chat is collaborative, so input from others is important! Creative criticism is not the same as judgement, and is not a personal attack.

Have fun! - Discussions move quickly in this chat! Don't feel bad if you ever need to step back, whether it's because of the speed or a disinterest in whatever current topic we're focusing on. If you ever want to come back, we're happy to have you and can give quick explanations if you feel out of the loop! :thumbsup:

We’re a group of approx. a half dozen to a dozen people, either posting very very quickly in a span of a few hours or barely anything for a few days. We’ve been in an activity uptick lately and there’s about a year and half of back content, too. If it’s hard to keep up on, not that interesting to read through, or you just have a hard time gelling with the group that's already there, there’s no shame in just lurking or dipping out if you need to.

We also talk a lot about Psychonauts OCs, so anticipate that.

[hotchley]

that’s okay

Oh my god it’s out before midnight!! Are you proud of me?? Once again, it has not been proofread, but that’s fine, this is for fun! Also, the same line where Aaron says he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore is also where I lost the plot so erm... yeah

Once again: little plot. Not much point. Low-key hate the ending. May have fucked up Hotch’s character. But I had fun writing it so we’re just... yeah we’re going with.

Title comes from That’s Okay by The Hush Sound (would 10/10 recommend), and I have to thank Caitlin ( @themetaphorgirl ) for that one because I was sat there like: I have everything but a title and then I remembered That’s Okay and was like AHA

Trigger Warnings: trauma, trauma responses, child abuse, religion, religious trauma

read on ao3!

When he finishes his speech, he meets Erin's eyes, determined and angry. At her, for pushing him and doubting his abilities in the one place he felt like he could maintain control in. At Jason, for once again putting him in a situation where he has to take the fall and piece things back together. Because he has to play this stupid game of politics. At the team, because it is easy. 

But most of all, he is angry at himself because he shouldn't be angry at them. He shouldn't be angry at Jason or Erin. He shouldn't be angry, because anger means he's creeping closer and closer to the line that separates himself from his father and if he goes too far, he will lose everything and he won't be able to come back. Ever.

"Aaron," she says, and his glare loses its power. She says his name, his first name, like it means something. With a gentleness that he had never felt before Haley softly repeated it to herself, as though she was trying to test out each syllable before she got too close.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "That comment about your son was unfair. I know you love them all equally."

She shakes her head. "Don't apologise. You know I don't enjoy doing this. Undermining you like this. Asking these questions, saying these things. But if we are both going to keep our jobs, then I have to."

At that moment, she is not Strauss. She is Erin, just another victim of bureau politics, trying to keep her head above water. It's what causes Aaron to reply, instead of just walking out.

"I know," he says. "I know."

"Why don't you ever let Jason take the fall for his mistakes? I'm not an idiot, I know these things aren't your doing. He's a grown man. He can accept the consequences that come with acting the way he does. You don't need to take them."

She doesn't understand. He does. He needs to take them because taking punishment is the only way he can atone for the multitude of sins he commits every single day. He needs to take the blame because he is the only one that can come back from it. The only one that can be replaced with ease. 

He needs to take the blame because it reminds him that this, just like everything he has been stripped of in his life- his childhood, his ability to love, his warmth, his innocence, his faith in both something else and humanity- this can and will be taken from him the moment he puts a foot wrong.

The Bureau, much like the small town in Virginia that he will never refer to as home because he never once felt safe, not even when Haley held him with gentle and unblemished hands, does not show anyone mercy. Least of all those that dare to speak out against injustice.

"I do. Jason Gideon is nothing without the BAU. I can't take that from him," he says. 

He hates to be vulnerable with her, but she is the only one left that he truly trusts. That remembers the boy he was when he first joined. That knows the lock on his drawer is not because there is alcohol, but because he keeps the file with his incomplete profile of George Foyet in there.

"And you?" she asks.

"And I?" 

"What are you without the BAU?"

And isn't that the question he wishes he knew the answer to? He is not a father, he knows that much. A real father wouldn't have hesitated to transfer after Jason returned. A real father would kiss their son goodnight without feeling guilty and hug them without fear. And he is not a husband. On a technicality, he is, but even he can see that Haley isn't happy. The day where she leaves will be sooner rather than later, and he will be powerless to stop her.

A part of him doesn't want to fight. It will be easier on both of them if she leaves before the inevitable happens. Before the pieces of himself he gives up to do this job become irretrievable. Before he is more than just his father's mirror, he is his father's son. 

Before the job he is nothing without ruins her life beyond repair.

"I don't know," he confesses. In some strange way, he feels like a child again. Being asked by the priest what he thinks his punishment for lying about what really happens in the Hotchner family home should be, even though he wasn't lying. He was never lying. They were all just too afraid to confront the truth.

The same way he was.

"Get some rest. I'll speak to the Director and other higher-ups. You'll have a job to come back to. I promise."

It is an impossible promise, one she may not be able to keep, but her tone is gentle and her words soothe him the way a parents' declarations of love never had, so he simply nods and exits her office. 

He doesn't look at any of the team when he gets back to his office. He doesn't bother to knock on Jason's door to make sure he isn't looking through the Book of the Damned. When Derek calls his name, he speeds up, knowing that out of all of them, he owes him the most answers, but finds himself completely unable to give them.

Haley doesn't know that he is returning. He doesn't have the energy to tell her. As he turns onto their road, he is almost tempted to keep going. Past their house. Past her sister's apartment. Past her parents' house and his father's grave. Past everything that keeps him grounded.

The idea of giving into temptation was something drilled out of him long ago. So he turns into their driveway, wondering what the neighbours will say when one of them inevitably moves out. Will they find it sad, that the young couple they had all hoped would last, had fallen apart? Will they wonder what the final straw was?

Haley is still in her work clothes when he enters the living room. She had already picked Jack up from his daycare on her way back, and her son- as far as he's concerned, he's nothing more than the sperm donor- babbles away happily as he plays with the toys his mother and aunt had picked out for him on their last day out together.

"You're back early," she says, without any malice. 

"Strauss told me to get some rest," he replies. "How are the students?"

She smiles at the mention of her class. "Glad to have me back. Excited for your next Southern treat, because no matter how many times I tell them I also lived in that town, they only want it if you made it."

"Well you moved there for your junior year, so I can understand why," he jokes, but instead of wiping away the bad memories of the case, it leaves him more exhausted than before.

"Aaron, what happened today?" she asks him, so attuned to his moods and feelings that he often wonders why she doesn't become a profiler.

"It's nothing," he tells her. No matter how many times she begs for him to tell her why he wakes up in the middle of the night, to share why he can't touch her without showering for a longer amount of time than can be healthy, he won't.

"You don't need to say specifics. But please don't lie to me."

"I'm sorry. I- can we eat first?"

Her mouth parts with shock. Of course they can eat first. She would do whatever was needed if it meant he would finally, after so many years of being married, tell her the truth about his job. She understood his need to keep it a secret. But when he came home, looking more defeated than he had at sixteen, she worried.

He puts Jack to sleep before climbing into bed beside her. She puts her book down- she hadn't really been reading it, just holding it to give her something to do- and turns so she's laying on her side. Absent-mindedly, she starts drawing circles on his stomach. His hand trembles as he removes it, placing it on the bed sheet.

"I profiled the team today," he begins.

Haley sits up properly. "I thought you had a rule against that."

"We do. But Erin… pushed. And before I knew what was happening I was sharing information about all of them. Things that- I don't know if they know that I know. And Erin is too good to use it to blackmail any of us but she isn't a profiler. They'll realise she knows."

"What did you tell her?" is all she says. She knows her husband. Knows how he takes everything personally, and how he will hold himself to unreachable standards because he was never allowed to be anything but perfect, and anything less than that is failure.

He tells her, in almost perfect verbatim, the same words he told Erin. Towards the end, his voice starts to get choked up. She knows he stutters when he feels under pressure or anxious and she knows he hates it. So instead of speaking, she takes his left hand, clasps it with both of hers and rubs circles over the knuckles.

For a moment, he stops speaking, staring at their interlocked hands instead with a look of slight wonder. Like even after all this time, he still couldn't believe he got to touch her. That she wanted to touch him, in spite of his devils and darkness.

It gives him the strength to finish.

"And you?" she asks, after it becomes clear he won't offer any more information as to why it hurt him so much.

Her question is an echo of Erin's, and he closes his eyes, giving himself a few moments to get lost in his head, where it is not necessarily safe, but is where he can be alone and not pretend to be good. 

"And I?"

"What did you say about yourself?"

"I said that if she could find someone better, then I wished her luck," he says, voice completely flat and monotone.

Haley tries to not be offended that he is speaking to her like she is an officer of the law, or a suspect, instead of her husband. "Why didn't you say more?"

"More?"

She nods. "You're feeling guilty because you profiled the team, but you didn't. You shared the pieces of them that make them human. That make them good agents and even better people. You didn't say anything like that about yourself. Why not?"

"Because I'm not like them. My trauma- I'm just not like the rest of the team, okay?"

"I know enough about trauma to know it affects every person differently, so I won't dispute that one. But if you're saying that you're not like the rest of your family, not team, then what are you like? Because from where I'm sitting, you are."

"I'm not," he repeats, growing slightly agitated.

She needs him to understand he is. "Aren't you?"

"No." this time, there is venom in his words. But it doesn't frighten her. It never has. The only time his words have such hatred injected into them is when he's afraid of himself. She's never been afraid of him. She never will be. Because to her, he is good. He is trying.

"How?" she pushes one last time.

And the dam explodes.

“I’m not soft! I’m not beautiful or kind or good or any of the things those stupid, stupid motivational quotes say! I’m not- I’m not like the others and all I want to know is why. Everyone else is good. They’re light and sweet and good. We’ve all been- we all have trauma. Why can’t I- why am I different? Why did mine make me violent and scared and- why can’t I move on?”

It was not what she was expecting. It was not what she thought he was going to say, and now she doesn't know what she is meant to do. She doesn't know how to piece him back together. Not this time. Not when his words are a confession he has been clinging to since the day he met Spencer.

"Aaron," she begins, for lack of other words to say.

"Don't," he cuts her off. "Please. Just don't. I can- I'll sleep in the guest room. You shouldn't have to deal with me when I'm like this."

"You're having a bad day. It's what I signed up to deal with," she says.

He shakes his head. "Not like this. Not like- Haley, what kind of father avoids his son the way I do because they're afraid? What kind of man doesn't know the difference between safety and happiness? How broken am I if my twenty-five year old subordinate can move on better than I can?"

"You're scared. You're a victim of child abuse. It's not- it's normal that you feel like this. I think. Aaron, I don't know. I don't know what kind of person this all makes you. But when I look at you, I see the man I married, the one so terrified of everything, thriving. I see someone that suffered atrocities that nobody should ever be put through fighting with everything they are, to break that cycle. I don't know how to make you feel better, but I vowed to be honest with you. And this is me doing that."

"You're the first person to tell me it wasn't my fault," he whispers. "Everyone else always said that I must've done something to deserve it."

"You were a child Aaron. You all were."

It was the wrong thing to say. 

"We were all children, but they're all better. They haven't closed themselves off. They- I see them, with their unfailing faith in humanity and it hurts. It physically hurts. What am I doing to them? What happens when the evil they see outweighs the goodness?"

"It's okay, Aaron," she laughs, because if she doesn't, she will cry and she will not do that. Not in this moment. "It's- the trauma and the hurt and the heartbreak doesn't always give you faith. It doesn't always make you a better person. Yes, they are still positive and happy and beautiful and good, but so are you. It's just buried somewhere. Because sometimes the trauma just hurts."

He stares at her eyes, and she sees the tears that had been threatening to fall since he got into the bed start to spill over. With one cautious hand, she wipes it away. She counts it as a win when he leans into the touch without flinching.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispers.

"That's the beautiful thing about love. We are all entitled to it. It's just about whether or not we'll take it."

"I don't know how to stop being so broken," he adds.

"You're not- people are not broken. Not ever. They are damaged by life and the terrible things that other people do, but they're never broken. Not beyond repair. Do you hear me? You are not broken. You never were. You were just hurt. But there are so many people that love you. That want to help you. All you have to do is ask."

"I know. I just- I wish he didn't have such a tight hold on me. I wish I could be more like Penelope. Or Derek. They're so beautiful, with their faith in love and goodness. Derek didn't have anyone. Not in the way I had you."

She didn't have to ask to know who he was talking about. "He was your father. Even despite everything, he took time off work when you had chicken pox and played with you when you were old enough to remember the snow."

"I know. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Do you think I'll always be like this? Cold and unapproachable and full of darkness?"

"The only people you are ever cold and unapproachable with is unsubs. Suspects. And there's nothing wrong with darkness. There's no light without it." she can't say anything more than that. Not without lying.

"You always know what to say," he says to her, hesitantly pulling her closer towards him.

She smiles. "It's because I love you."

His own smile fades, and he doesn't reply, instead brushing her hair off her face. She tries to not let it sting. The words had never been something said freely in his house. Never used to actually express love, only as a plea for mercy. There are a few minutes of silence, and she think he's finally fallen asleep. 

Then he speaks.

"Haley, what if I can't save them? I've already failed once. What if this, part of me, means the next time they need me, I can't be there? I can't save them?"

She thinks her answer over for a few minutes.

"Sometimes the way to save other people is to save ourselves. You need to save yourself first. But listen to me." 

She can tell he's fighting sleep now, so she speaks quickly.

"There is nothing wrong with you. Yes, you are flawed and you make mistakes, but that is because you are human. We all make mistakes. We are never perfect. You are not the only one to screw up. But this part of you-" she places a hand over his heart "-this part of you is not broken. It is not wrong or anything that you were led to believe it was. You are exactly what and where you need to be. And I love you for that."

"Do you promise?"

She swallows. "Of course I do." 

She's not entirely sure whether she's lying, but he drifts off with a smile, so she decides she doesn't care. There are certain lies she is willing to tell, if only so her husband has one night of peace.

Thinking of him as her husband is painful, because she knows it is only a matter of time before one of them snaps. Before this balance he has fought so hard to achieve topples like Jack's building blocks. She knows which way it will topple. She isn't angry.

But the balance hasn't toppled yet. It won't for a few weeks. So maybe it is wrong, but instead of pulling away, she lets herself hold her husband, the steady beating of his heart sending her to sleep.

She is right though. Even when she's no longer there, he knows she is right. That sometimes the pain is not poetic or character-building. Sometimes, it is just pain, and the only way forward is directly through it. It is not easy, but it is possible.

Everything is possible, so long as he lets himself feel without guilt.

[imfactshual]

“The Tree”

Genre: Fluff (kinda? it’s like- not but kinda is.) + Slight Angst (memories were sad-)

Pairing: N/A (Nobody, for now it’s just Jaemin and his sexy agenda)

Warnings: N/A (sorry i cant think of any right now)

Part: 1

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Bro- Okay waiiit….Idk how this is gonna end up like i’m excited and I don’t even have a plan for this one-

Links: Masterlist, Request Rules

“Jaemin?” A boy with very dark brown hair stood in underneath a tree feeling the breeze in his hair. Each strand felt like a different emotion but he couldn’t quite pinpoint which. The boy looked at the person calling his name. He seemed very unfamiliar with who it may be, but that didn’t stop him from answering.

“Uh- Yea?” He answered watching a woman in a brown jumpsuit make her way towards the boy. She stopped and lifted her hands to rest on her hips and began tapping her feet almost in a rhythmic tone.

“It’s time for your test. You didn’t take it last year so you’ll have to take it now.” The lady said handing Jaemin a piece of paper. The paper was slightly torn but still readable to say the least.

“Yeah okay.” Jaemin said scoffing and looking back to where his mind had drawn him to in the first place.

“I’m serious Jaemin.” The lady’s expression changed to a more stern look. Assuming she was more serious, he definitely didn’t want to get on her bad side.

“Alright. When you say now, do you mean right now?” Jaemin asked grabbing the paper from the lady.

“When we get into the building Jaemin.”

“Well, you never specified.” They started walking back into the building while the students outside started to play.

Once the two got into the building, another lady greeted Jaemin.

oh great more people, my luck today is soaring.

“Hello! You know who I am don’t you?” The other lady asked. The lady before that accompanied Jaemin into the building was now nowhere to be seen.

“I do.” Jaemin answered coldly. He watched out the windows as the other children continued to play. He wondered why all the kids could play while he stayed in the cold room everyday being monitored by random staff.

“Then you’ll have no trouble following me to Room 15, right?” The lady said bending down to Jaemins eye level. He could hear the grin plastered on his face even without physically seeing it.

Jaemin gave a simple nod and followed the lady to the end of the hall when he was greeted with the same room tag on the door. ‘Room 15’

He gave a sharp inhale and started to twist on the door knob. When the door swung open he was surprised a bit. There was already two people sitting in seats that felt like miles apart.

“You will sit right here,”The lady said dragging Jamin out of his thoughts. He watched as the lady placed a stack of about 5 books and 20 sheets of paper onto the desk. The boy watched as the children around jumped a bit in fear.

“If you need anything just let me know.” The lady said handing Jaemin a pencil. He looked at it and sighed giving a simple ‘Thank You’ bow.

Jaemin sat down at his assigned seat and started getting to work. He wasn’t too behind since he constantly took tests, so he had a pretty easy time with the first test. When the second one came around there weren’t many answers he had. Every now and then he would pause to look up at the clock and see it was in the same hour it had been since he started.

I probably should’ve taken my time on the first one then.

Waiting for an answer he took out his phone that somehow never got confiscated. He decided he would defy the rules just once and look up some answers so he could move on and go back to his tree. Though it felt good at the time, it wouldn’t be so good later on.

He ended up finding the answers to each and every question on the paper. He was 15 pages in and went through about 3 books. Finally he was even closer to getting his end goal. Standing by that same tree.

“I’m done.” One of the children said walking towards the man that sat on a rolling chair. The boy handed him the papers and books that were given like how they were with Jaemin.

Who is that? How’d he finish the tests so quickly?

Jaemin watched as the boy walked out the room. The boy turned his eyes slightly and gave a small grin. They locked eyes for the slightest moment ever but to Jaemin, it felt like he was being read like he was the books used for the tests.

After a while of frustration and struggle, Jaemin finished the tests. He started to get up with his papers. He grabbed the books in one hand and the papers in another. The pencil he used was slipped in the space between his ear and the side of his head.

“You finished quicker than I thought you would.” The man said grabbing the papers and books from him. He thanked the man and walked out of the room.

“Finally,” The boy started to stretch his arms while walking in a very nonchalant way.

“I’m done with all these tests.” Jaemin made his way to the corridors and opened them slightly so he could slip right out.

He made his way out back to the tree trying his best not to bump into another kid playing so avoid trouble. Jaemin was never the fighting type nor was he a very angry kid, it’s the fact that he’s not that really gets under a kid’s skin.

Finally after a long struggle, he reached the tree. As soon as he arrived he felt a moment of relief. It felt like everything that was stressful for him, went away with the slightest glimpse of the tree. With the sun glistening on his skin and the breeze yet again finding its way to run through his hair, he was peaceful. He was finally happy. After years of anger, sadness, and slight happiness. It was real. He could finally enjoy the bliss moments he sees in TV shows all the time.

He let out a satisfied exhale and decided to try something new. He bent down to make himself comfortable and decided to sit down by the tree. The sun seemed to be getting dimmer by the second. It was still as beautiful as he remembered though, so it didn’t matter. What did matter, was the unnecessary memories he started to have.

Wanting to forget, he closed his eyes and tilted his head up to feel the tree’s leaves fall beside him. When he opened his eyes though, he felt a slight push letting him know he wasn’t alone like he thought he was.

“Hello?” He asked turning his head to see that same boy who was taking the tests with him in the beginning.

“Do you ever randomly start thinking of your past when you visit here?” The boy said staring up to the sky. This suddenly made Jaemin sit up and look directly in the boy’s eyes. He started getting that same feeling he got the first time their eyes intertwined.

“No,” Jaemin tried pulling a lie but it obviously wasn’t successful from how the boy looked at his response.

“Well, actually I have. They’re not often though. Every now and then they show up as little clips, almost like something you’d see in a movie.

“Really? The same happens for me sometimes,” The boy started to take something out of his pockets. He began rustling in them to find what he was originally looking for.

“You know, my grandmother gave this to me.” The boy said unraveling his hand to reveal a small wooden leg. The leg seemed like it belonged to a wooden toy from back in the day, but to Jaemin’s surprise it was very new.

“Why?” Jaemin asked seeming somewhat interested in the object the other boy had from his pockets.

“For good luck. She used to tell me it makes all the bad things go away.” He said.

“Well why are you telling me about it, if it’s so special to you I mean.” Jaemin asked with a cold tone. Usually he’s more friendly to some people, but something about the boy gave him an unsettling feeling.

“I want you to have it. Think of it as a good luck charm.” The boy said taking one of Jaemin’s hands and gently placing the leg into his palm. The boy looked back up at Jaemin and gave him the smallest, yet genuinely happy smile ever. Jaemin never seen such a thing. Not even the movies could describe the scene that was placed in front of him.

“I-I’m not sure if I should accept this from you.” Jaemin said fiddling with his other hand trying to avert his gaze from the boy.

“It’s fine really. I don’t need it anyway where I’m going.” The boy said. He quickly started to rise up and gather himself before brushing the dirt and leaves off of himself.

“Not a day goes by without me thinking about that leg.” The boy turned to face Jaemin once more and gave that simple smile again. He then started to walk away from the tree and was met at the door with a lady in an all black suit. The lady looked to see where he had came from and saw Jaemin sitting on the ground with his hand in a fist.

“Thank you.” Jaemin whispered while going back to what he was doing. Yet again, the sun was back to its shine and made his day a bit brighter.

[adarlingwrites]

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXVIII

January 14, 2278.

I woke up feeling confused.

Percy?

My wife?

Impossible. A ghoul marrying a smoothskin? Fucking insane.

I don’t think I’m even made for something as… normal as marriage. All my skills are geared towards killing and destroying. How can I even build a life with her?

Some people marry out of love, don’t they? My parents did, and they were happy together. When I was little, during their wedding anniversary, they’d leave me with someone else to look after me. Before she went away to study, Aunt Katya would do that for them. After she’s gone, it was whoever babysitter they can find.

They would always come home the next day with smiles on their faces.

When we started to become poorer, they’d spend the evening in the house, a lone candle illuminating the kitchen, and they’d dance to the radio in silence. My mother would look at my father with uncertain eyes, and he'd kiss the worries away.

“Annika, moya solnyshko, we’re going to be fine.”

Solnyshko. If I recall correctly, it’s a term of endearment in my parents’ language. I think it meant ‘little sun’.

I sighed and turned to Percy, still asleep, resting peacefully as the sunlight streamed from the windows and illuminated her face.

Is that something I want to do with Percy?

Hold her in my arms through thick and thin? Call her silly little things out of affection?

Is it love that drives me to dream of being her husband? Or is she just too involved in my life now for me to think of someone else?

Some people married out of convenience, after all. Like Aunt Katya.

I remember bringing the rings on her wedding day. She was already heavy with child, dressed in white. I couldn’t remember if it was in the year 2069 or 2070, but obviously, it was before I was taken away for indoctrination.

“Tetushka,” I remember addressing her during the reception. “Who is he?”

“Artyom, this is Nathaniel. He’s the man I married, and he’s going to be your uncle. Don’t be shy, say hi.”

The man steps closer, and kneels. He had some stubble on his jaw, square and shapely, and his hair is cut neatly, like the soldiers I see on posters.

“So this is the nephew you were talking about, Kitty. Hey there sport,” he greets extending his hand. I remember reluctantly giving him a handshake.

“I know this is all so sudden, but he’s part of the family now,” Aunt Katya explains, smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I think it’s time for the toast, dear. We wouldn’t want to miss it.” Nathan interrupts, whisking my aunt away and giving me a nod and a wink.

That night, as my father drove us home, he spoke to me.

“Artyom, could you make me a promise?”

“What kind of promise papa?”

“Promise me, when you grow up and if you decide to marry someone, make sure that you marry out of love, like I did with your mother. Don’t be like your aunt Katya.”

“I promise,” I tell him. “But what’s wrong with aunt Katya?”

“Ilya, I think we should save this conversation for another day. Our Artyom might be too young,” my mother tells father.

“Nonsense. It’s never too early to let him know. Artyom, your tetushka married that man because she thought she couldn’t take care of a baby on her own. I’m not sure if she loves Nathan, and that’s what scares me. Your auntie is strong. But I’m not sure how she will handle a marriage with uncertain feelings. It could destroy her.”

I blinked a few times. It was too heavy for me to understand back then.

“I think what your father is trying to say, Artyom,” my mother adds, “Is when people marry and start a family, they usually live together under one roof, like your papa and I. When you marry someone and live under one roof with someone you do not love, life can become difficult.”

“I think I understand, mama.”

I do understand now.

My reminiscing got interrupted when Percy cracked one eye open, and reached for me.

“Hey. Good morning, big guy. You slept well?”

I nodded.

“Let’s get some breakfast.”

After waking Butch up, the three of us packed our sleeping bags and went outside to start a fire. The dawn is just breaking, the horizon hazy. I can’t remember being this up early. Our sleep schedule was borderline nocturnal.

As the Cram sizzled on the clean sheet of metal we used to cook on while travelling, Percy was heating some clean water over the fire as well. She used it to rehydrate the Instamash, and the rest went into a cup. My partner then takes out a small sachet, the label washed out, but I can still see what it was.

“Found this in a coat pocket from Moira’s gifts the other day,” she giggles. “Hot chocolate!”

My eyes widened. Damn, I haven’t seen one of those after the war. Is it even safe to consume?

“Man, I miss the food in the vault. Lemme have some,” DeLoria exclaims, excited.

Percy pours it in the cup and stirs it with a spoon. She takes a sip, passes it to Butch, who wrinkles his nose, then to me. Well, if we can still eat Cram after 200 years of it sitting on some shelf, I think I’ll be fine with this ancient hot chocolate.

It’s hot. Comforting. The flavor is a little rancid, but what else is new with these preserved Pre-War foods? It’s still somewhat sweet. The nostalgia I felt for the life I left behind grew. I look into the cup, the dark liquid swirling, reminding me of Percy’s eyes. Then, I pass it back to her.

“You were smiling in your sleep,” Percy quips, looking at me with eyes still heavy with sleep. “Dreamed of something nice?”

Despite the cold, I feel the warmth spreading through me. Of fucking course I just can’t tell her that I dreamed that I wasn’t a monster, and she is my wife, and we had a son who looked like her while we’re frolicking at a beach in California. I have to think of something else.

“I dreamed DeLoria fell down the stairs.”

Percy almost spat out her drink laughing. Butch gives me a dirty look. “Yeah, real funny, you bastard,” he groans.

I couldn’t help but laugh at my own lie, too.

Butch put the fire out with snow, and we’re off again, heading west. The sun’s rising in the east, warming our backs as we pressed on. By the time we got to Lamplight, the sun’s risen, but was blocked out by clouds.

We approached the cavern entrance, and followed the trail inside. There, MacCready is still keeping watch.

“Hey, we got your friends back. Can we come in now?” Percy shouts, keeping a safe distance.

“I guess you’re okay after all, for a mungo. But you better not piss me off!”

As the three of us approached the gate, the kid pointed his rifle at DeLoria.

“Hey wait a second, you weren’t with them when they first came here,” he barks, suspicious.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless. He’s gonna watch out stuff for us while we go in Vault 87,” Percy explains, pulling Butch’s arm hurriedly.

“Who the fuck are you?” the mayor asks Butch, and of course the moron puffed his chest out.

“I’m Butch! I lead a gang called the Tunnel Snakes and I helped them get your friends outta Paradise Falls too!”

“What kind of dumbshit name is Tunnel Snakes?”

Okay, I can’t fucking help it. I am laughing. This kid is just fine.

As DeLoria squabbles with MacCready, Percy sits down in a corner to catch her breath and rest, and I join her. Soon, some of the kids started gathering around us, and among them were the children we rescued from Paradise.

“It’s the ghost and the zombie that saved us!” one of them exclaimed, running towards us.

“Zombie isn’t a nice word to call him, kid. He’s called a ghoul,” Percy tells her, voice a little softer than her usual speaking tone.

“A pretty ghost and a scary ghoul saved you? Wow!”

Soon, the voices of the children grew louder as they chattered about us, the odd group of mungos allowed in the cave.

I felt uncomfortable as the children poked around and asked us so many questions. Some of them are too afraid to come closer to me, while some openly try to climb on my back and gingerly touch some of my scars. I guess the dream I had about having one will remain a dream. These children are exhausting to be around.

Yet Percy takes it all in stride, answering every question they ask her, showing off her stuff, and regaling them with tales from our travels. She’d gently pet the hair of one of the little girls who huddled next to her, and her patience didn’t waver as one of the boys accidentally spilled their Nuka Cola on her jacket.

She reminds me of my own mother. I’m sure she’d be a great mother if she ever decides to be one.

And when that happens, I’m not going to be the one by her side.

“Percy! Tell us another story,” one of the children, who was called Knock Knock, asks my partner, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“I think I’ve already told you all of my stories.”

“Well, you can always make one up,” another little girl, the one called Bumble, suggests.

“Hmm…”

Eyes flicking towards me, Percy offers the children a soft smile.

“Long ago, there was a young maiden, living in a fortress with steel walls. The most important rule was one was allowed to go in and out of the fortress.” Percy starts, leaning her head towards me.

“A maiden? Why not a princess? Princesses lived in fortresses, right? Or was it a castle?”

“Shut up, Zip! Don’t interrupt her.”

Chuckling, Percy clears her throat and continues. “She kept to herself, and kept herself busy with plants and books. The maiden was content with living in the fortress, but she always wondered what the world beyond them looked like. One night, while the maiden was exploring the lower levels of the fortress, a horrible beast took her away, and captured her. He put her in an invisible cage, which keeps her under his control.”

I think I know who this maiden is.

“Oh no, is she okay? Who saved her?”

“We’ll get to that soon. The maiden was kept in a cage for so long, that she thought that she'd never get out. Then, one night, word got around that someone left the fortress. In her desire to see the world, she grips the bars of the invisible cage, and bends it, finally escaping.”

The children were listening in awe. “What happens to the girl? Does she escape the fortress?”

“Yes, and she had to face the monster that captured her in doing so. In a show of courage, she wields a sword, and takes his head off in one slice.”

“Coooool,” one of the kids exclaimed.

“Then, she starts looking for her father. But she couldn’t do it alone. There were many dangers in the world outside the fortress. So, she looks for someone who can watch her back.”

“Is it a knight? Or a prince?”

“Hmm. No, her companion is neither of those. He’s something else.”

“What is he?”

“A ferryman.”

“What’s a ferryman, Percy?”

“Have you kids ever heard of a boat? A ferryman is in charge of running that boat.”

“Oh, so they rode through a boat?”

“Yeah. They did. This ferryman, all he knew before he met the maiden was to take the souls of people and deliver them to Death. Kind of like the Grim Reaper. Everyone’s gotta die some time, and it was his job to ensure that they make it to the other side.”

“Yikes! Why would she ask someone like that to watch her back?”

Percy pauses, unsure what to answer. Her eyes flick to her lap, then, she smiles at one of the kids.

“Because, the maiden knows better than to judge a book by its cover. Turns out, the ferryman was one of the most reliable, bravest, and kindest people outside the fortress, but he’s stuck to his job. So, they burn the boat, and the maiden, instead of facing Death, runs away with the ferryman. The end.”

“Wow, that was boring,” one of the boys quipped, which earned him an elbow from one of the girls.

“Are you kidding? That was amazing!”

“Aw, that can’t be the end! What happens to them after?”

“Do they fall in love?”

A short chortle escaped Percy. “That’s a story for another day. My friend and I need to get going.”

Bumble looks up to Percy with big, begging eyes. “Promise us you’ll tell the rest when you come back, please?”

A chorus of “Please, Percy” fills the cave. I couldn’t help but snort at the overwhelmed look on Percy’s face. Then, she gave them a quick nod, to which they responded with cheers.

“Alright big guy, time for us to go into the Vault. Wait, where’s Butch?”

On the opposite side of the cave, surrounded by mostly boys, including MacCready himself, Butch was shouting and cheering.

“Tunnel Snakes rule!”

“Tunnel Snakes rule!” the boys echoed.

We laughed at the scene. “Hey, looks like Butch have new gang members in no time.”

Striding towards DeLoria, Percy dumps the gear we didn’t need to bring near his feet. She takes off her leather jacket and scarf, and her sneaking suit’s helmet protracted over her face. It was a curious sight for the children, looking at her with bewildered eyes.

“Look after the stuff, Butch. If we don’t come back in eight hours, get help from the Brotherhood.”

“Got it. What but what if something else comes through the door?”

“If it’s not with us, shoot it. Help the kids defend this place.”

Butch gulps. “I… uh…”

“There are spare guns and grenades in one of the packs. You helped us with Paradise, Butch. You can handle this,” Percy encourages him, rubbing the back of his palm gently.

I look away.

“You’re right. See you in a few hours.”

Following a teenage boy who introduced himself as Joseph, who turned out to be the brother of one of the children we got out of the slave pen, we were led to a terminal which accesses a door to the vault. No one bothered to write down the password, so Percy cracked her knuckles and started typing away eagerly.

Eyes still fixated on the glowing green monitor, she had that determined look on her face again.

The door hisses open, and we step in. It was unnaturally cold and silent.

“This is it, Charon. We’re so close.”

[imaginesmai]

Chris Evans - Banana’s worries

Since Bananas was so popular, I decided to write another fic about dad!Chris Evans! Hope you like it!

Plot: Banana the plushie is making another appearance in your life, and this time is bringing worries. 

Chris had always been a light sleeper.

Living with a brother that loved to make pranks on him made him be aware at night of whoever might enter into his room. Then, he had spent nights awake waiting to know if he had gotten the role he had fought so hard to win. The time difference between countries, and the fact that he was always late, made him grow used to the jet lag everywhere he went.

Claire’s first years weren’t easy, neither. When you first brought her from the hospital, the doctor told you that it was very important for you to take it easy, as you had suffered from some problems in the birth. That left Christ for the first two weeks of Claire being home to take care of her at night. She was a screamer, for sure. Not only she cried a lot, but screamed every time she wanted something. Christ spent two weeks without sleeping, and the only place he dozed off was in the shower.

Since becoming a parent, he had been a much more light sleeper than what he was at the beginning. Therefore, in the middle of the night, when the door to your bedroom opened with a creak, he was the first one to open an eye.

The sheets were, as always, thrown to the floor; so he had no mental protection from whoever was at the door. You were facing the window, and he was laying behind you with one hand placed over yours. It didn’t matter how you went to sleep, he always managed to touch you in anyway.

All the worries went away when, a moment later, he heard the recognizable soft pitter-patter of tiny feet, and he grinned softly. Chris couldn’t hear her crying or in any other kind of distress; besides, you had a sixth sense that woke you up when Claire was sick. It wasn’t a nightmare, neither, because Claire just cried for you from his bed.

So he kept his eyes closed until he felt her coming around to his side of the bed.

“ ‘Kay, Banana. You ‘ave to be quiet” Claire whispered as good as a three year-old could.

The stuffed fruit that Claire hadn’t let go since Chris brought it plopped down to Chris’ feet, and then the little blanket that was on the bed was tugged on so that Claire had a good grip to haul herself onto the bed.

Chris heard the small puffs of air that the little girl made every now and then. He fought the urge to help her, knowing she was in an independent phase encouraged by her cousins that made her think that she could do anything without her parents, because she was no baby.

He felt a small poke on his hand that let him know that you were awake too. Opening one eye slowly, he looked at you; you were already looking at him, with your hair spread all over the pillow and a sleepy smile on your face. You had no make-up, an old pyjamas and your eyes were swollen from sleep. Still, Chris got lost in you and almost forgot about the toddler trying to get in your bed.

“Yay!”

Claire seemed to have forgotten her own rule about being quiet, because she let an excited squeal when she finally plopped face first on the bed. She grabbed Banana and hugged her stuffed fruit close to her chest

“Tha’s fo’ nothin’, Banana” Claire scoffed, and you swallowed down a laugh. Chris bit his lip and closed his eyes tightly.

Both of you felt the bed dip as your little girl started to crawl in between towards the head of the bed. She was trying to be as careful as possible, every now and then shushing the toy when she made a loud noise, but both could feel the girl’s tiny knees and elbows digging into your bodies painfully.

She stepped over your linked hands as good as she could, and let her left feet prop up all of her weight on yours. Your eyes widened up comically and Chris emitted a silent laugh that your girl didn’t notice. With a murderous glance, you pretended to be asleep as the toddler walked-tottered.

Claire finally reached the head of the bed, plopping down in between her two parents with an exhausted sigh. She rested Banana on her chest, grinning at her stuffed animal; although a second later, she slammed her to the wall angrily.

“You did ve’y noise” she reprimanded the plushie. “I don’t wike it”

The last sentence finally got to Chris, who cracked down on a fit of loud laughs that made him choke with his own spit. He released your hand and laid on his back, half laughing and half coughing.

For months, Chris had been telling Claire in not-so-secret the ‘I don’t wike it’ thing. The second time he did so, you discovered them, and Claire understood it was something that her mommy didn’t like; so she didn’t do it. In front of everyone, she said the words correctly. But Chris heard her a few months ago in the solitude of her room; then, she denied saying so. It had been a bet on going for months now, that she said it only when no one was around.

And Chris had won.

“Daddy! You ‘wake!” Claire screamed, and turned on her belly to put herself on four.

“Yeah, baby. Daddy’s awake” you answered her, as Chris could barely breath between his laughing fit. “And a bad person”

Claire found the word funny, because the girl giggled quietly and scooted closer to you. She was quite small for her age, and her body fitted perfectly cuddled in your side, her small hand curling around the cloth around your growing stomach.

Chris finally calmed down, and turned to the side to see his two best girls curled around each other. If he had to say, in a way he preferred another girl, rather than a boy. His daughter had been begging to you that she wanted another sister to play with; and she didn’t get that it might not be a girl. Chris knew that the genre of the baby didn’t matter, as long as you were healthy and the baby was born fine, but he didn’t want to face the tantrum Claire would have if, in the end, the baby was a boy.

The man laid on his right shoulder and brought a hand up to play with Claire’s blonde hair. She was already closing her eyes, half awake half in the dreams world.

“You had a nightmare, baby?” you asked, your voice soft.

Claire was quiet for a second, before opening her eyes and alternating between looking at Chris and you.

“No. But Banana wanted to sleep ‘ere” she mumbled, and squeezed the plushie against her chest.

“And why did Banana want to sleep here?” Chris continued. He knew that the bond Claire had with the toy was normal, but sometimes it worried him that she only expressed herself through the toy. If she was hungry, she told you that Banana wanted food. If she did something, she always blamed it on the plushie. “Did he get scared of the dark?”

“No”

“Then?”

“Banana… Banana and I see some’in” she mumbled.

You frowned at her words. Since the moment she had learned to walk by herself, you had been very careful with the things she had access with. Babies love to play with the remotes, and Claire was no exception. She used to hide it, to chew on it and to change the channels every two minutes. A few times that month, she had turned on the TV without anyone knowing; sometimes on channels that weren’t that child-friendly.

So your first assumption was that she had seen part of a film that had made her scared. Chris seemed to think the same, as he frowned too.

“What did you see? Something scary?” he inquired. Claire shook her head again, and started playing with your pyjamas. She looked back to her father when she talked.

“Mean people we’ t’owin’ ol’ ‘ins” she said.

When Claire was scared, nervous or just excited, she messed up with her words, so you had a hard time knowing what she had said. You tried to think what she could have seen where ‘mean people were throwing old things’, but you couldn’t come across anything scary about that. It was true that when Scott came over, he loved to watch that type or program with garbage with Chris; but they weren’t traumatic.

You looked at Chris, but he was focused on your daughter. You didn’t have to ask anything else, as she kept talking. That she didn’t use Banana to talk showed that what she was talking about was something important.

“They – they t’ew ol’ ins an – an got new ones” her eyes filled with tears and, in a matter of a few words, her small face filled with desperation. “You – you t’ow me when baby is ‘ere?”

Claire broke into sobs when she finally expressed her thoughts and worries, and both of your hearts broke. You had thought she was handling well the news of her new sibling. It had only been two days since you told her, and she was pretty excited and happy to have someone to share her toys with.

Chris actually whispered a sad ‘oh, baby’ before pulling the two of you to his chest and creating a human sandwich with Claire in between. She clutched her other hand to his shirt, so hard that it actually tore a bit. Banana was left under her body, the toy making a small squeak noise but not breaking.

“That’s not true, Claire” you assured her. “We can love you both the same”

“But they t‘ow ol’ a’ay” she sobbed into your body, the words barely recognizable. “You ‘il get ti’ed of me!”

You looked up at Chris with desperation, and he looked exactly like you. His eyes were glossy and he was trying to come up with words that didn’t exist. He tried to think about something to say to a crying toddler; she couldn’t understand most of the reasons he could give her, but her mind had picked up on a problem that sounded too mature to her knowledge.

Finally, you sighed and tried to think of something the books you had bought about ‘being a good mother’ could hide.

“Look, baby” you started, and Claire looked at you through the tears. “There is a space, inside our bodies… where we keep the love for the people that matters to us. Do you remember how we love with the heart?”

Claire nodded, and hugged the plushie closer to her body.

“Well, right now, in my heart, there is love for daddy, for you and for a lot of people. Your cousins, your aunts and uncles. I didn’t stop loving daddy because you were born”

“But – t’at no s’me!” she cried out, and Chris made her look at him.

“It’s the same, baby” he used his deep, paternal voice that he only got when he was talking about something important or scolding her. The toddler focused all her attention on him, and swallowed down the tears. “When a new person appear for you to love, you don’t have to throw other away. There is enough space in our heart for al least one hundred people more”

“T’ats a lot” Claire mumbled. She looked at you for confirmation, and when you nodded, she looked down to the plushie and petted its head softly, as if it was a dog. “We don’ ‘ave to worry, Banana. I tell you”

The little girl grabbed his father’s t-shirt and pulled him close until a sandwich of the Evan’s family was made. Looking to the clock of your nightstand, Chris watched as the four o’clock rolled by, and that was another night where he couldn’t probably go back to sleep.

When he so many times had dreamt with having a family, he didn’t expect so many sleepless nights. He expected laughs, dirty diapers and trips to the toy store to have fun himself. And a lot of family reunions with his friends and family where he got to brag about a kid and his wife. He didn’t thought of the vomits on his favourite shirts, of having to fight with the other mothers about theirs kids and vaccines, or about tying so many shoes in a day.

Still, fatherhood was the best thing that he could think of. And he was sure of it when he looked at the two girls sleeping in his bed, tugged into his hide for the rest of his life.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part VIII

The Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person requested and I dove into headfirst

First part // Previous part // Next part

Send me requests for other fics, ideas for this one, opinions, whatever! My apologies if the quality seems to have one downhill; I'll be doing minor edits for the sake of readability when I have a good chunk of free time.

“Shhh, guys, leave it,” Jens said. Everyone’s comments died on their tongues. Zoë and Moyo herded the superfluous students from the room and left as well, shutting the door behind. Moyo almost clapped a hand on Robbe’s shoulder, but seemed to think better of it in favor of a saddened smile. It didn’t really help. Robbe wasn’t sure if they ended tonight on good terms.

“We’re going to bed early,” Aaron suggested. “We have to get a jump on those damn exams.”

“Leave it,” hissed Jens.

“I was just saying, we’re—”

“Leave it.”

“It’s a good idea,” said Robbe. “We’re going to bed early.” He hadn’t realized how angry he was all week until faced with its culmination. And now—now he was tired. Stupid and single and tired.

There were still no sheets on his bed; he hadn’t gotten around to doing anything with them. He could perform a cleaning spell on the mattress if it got too bad in their absence. Whatever. Robbe couldn’t be bothered to rifle through his trunk for a cleaner blanket, so he crossed the room and grabbed the one off the fourth bed.

Motherfucker. It smelled like Sander. He really couldn’t win, could he? Robbe threw the blanket to the decimated floor and curled up without any covering at all.

“He wasn’t that attractive,” said Jens, breaking his own rule. “Had to get those roots done again.”

Robbe clamped his pillow over his ears. “Shut up.”

“We haven’t been to Hogsmede in a while. Might be nice to go tomorrow. The four of us.”

Hogsmede. Robbe’s eyes burned.

“I need to stop at Honeyduke’s,” Aaron agreed. “It’s Live It Up week.”

“I’d fancy a pint at the Three Broomsticks.”

The Three Broomsticks. Robbe was not going to cry over this. It brought him back to Sander explaining their fake love story to Zoë, all the little accurate details, all the possibility… that’s all it was. A story. You don’t like me. He cast the Muffliato charm across his four-poster before the tears started flowing. Once they started, they didn’t stop until morning.

“You don’t have to tell us a thing,” Jens said. “We understand.”

I want to, Robbe thought. He rolled over and faced the wall for the remainder of the night.

***

As much as he would love to hardcore sulk, Robbe had never been that kind of person. Sander was gone. They weren’t even together for that long, so there wasn’t much sulking warranted. He took Saturday and Sunday as unofficial off-days before exams, in that he spent them with Jens, Moyo, and Aaron, pointedly not talking about Sander. They did not go to the Three Broomsticks. Jens passed a whole afternoon in Honeyduke’s, attempting to sample every flavor of Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor beans.

Okay, Robbe sulked. But not hardcore.

Robbe resolved that one Monday he would snap out of it in time to guard his outstandingin his five classes. What should he do? What had he learned? He could start there. Starting there was something.

1. He should never drop a class for someone he wasn’t really dating.

Robbe’s Potions exam was the first on Monday, and he went into it grossly unprepared, despite hours of common room studying. There was a large difference between reading theory and enacting what it said. Plus, a lot of his library time focused more on Sander’s eyes than on the written material.

Everyone else chopped up their beans and sprinkled them into their brews without difficulty. Robbe couldn’t remember how many he should use. In the end, he dumped a whole handful in completely whole and stirred counter-clockwise. How much could it hurt, anyway? He left fifteen minutes before the exam period was up, and the Potions master did not bother to stop him. The Drought of Living Death he prepared could probably kill the whole class, Britt and all, even if not in the way it was meant to.

Why had he stopped attending in person? What could Britt have done to him? It hit him—she probably knew the dating thing was fake from the beginning. Sander might have planned it all out to make Robbe look like an idiot.

That wouldn’t account for that night in the workshop.

Fuck that night in the workshop.

Sander waited outside the Potions classroom, his back on the wooden doorframe. Britt would be done soon. It didn’t give Robbe any satisfaction to brush by Sander without speaking—or at least, not until he saw Sander rubbing his arm in the aftermath. Robbe must have hit him with the door.

“Sorry,” he called over his shoulder, hoping it sounded blasé.

It could have been anyone there, he thought. Sander wasn’t special anymore. Then he went to his bedroom and stared at the wall over it.

2. He was not straight.

The specifics were, as of yet, unclear. He was in love with Sander, which meant he liked boys, but he’d kind of liked Noor too. Not romantically. Or even sexually. But like, he enjoyed her company.

Sometimes.

He wasn’t in love with Sander anymore, though, definitely not. Robbe figured if he told himself that at least four to five times a day, it might become a little more accurate. Two weeks was too short a time to fall for someone.

After all this, he needed to get Jens alone and lay it all on at once. Bad phrasing be damned. The boys began packing their belongings on Wednesday, after a mostly uneventful Transfiguration exam (Moyo turned his cockroach into a pair of earrings that still moved their spindly antennae—he seemed satisfied). They would leave on Saturday afternoon. Aaron tried a simple cleaning spell, Scourgify, and ended up scattering his belongings to the four corners of the castle. He scurried away to pack the rest manually, Moyo at his heels to help.

Jens and Robbe were alone. Robbe was ready to talk about it.

“Why is Moyo always here?” asked Jens, in a way that made it sound like he was breaking the tension.

His plan failed, of course, because Robbe was already speaking. “We have to talk about something.”

They stared at each other. Jens blinked.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” Robbe began. “I wanted to, but it was always so complicated.”

“Uh, sure, okay.” Jens shoved a crumpled shirt into his trunk, followed by a pair of ripped slacks he could never wear to class again.

“This thing I had with Sander… it was fake to him. But, well, uh, to me—”

Jens nodded. “I know.”

Damnit, no.

“Jens,” Robbe tried a second time, “I’ve realized some things about myself recently. They kind of explain other things, from earlier, so…” He switched tactics. Who knew how long until Moyo and Aaron returned? “Do you remember when you and Jana broke up? How you found out about what’s-his-name and—”

Another shirt in the trunk. Some more destroyed pants. “Yeah.”

“Cool. So um, you should understand that it was—” It was never this awkward to talk to Jens before. Jens was supposed to be easy. Robbe folded his shirts by hand, like his mother did, and placed them carefully in his own luggage as he thought of how best to phrase this. “I did it on purpose. She was gonna tell you and I—well I said—”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I know things about myself now. Learned them. From that. and this.” Here it came, the big jump. Even though Robbe knew Jens, Aaron, and Moyo outlined a whole plan to get him and Sander together, he still worried about what they’d say when confronted with the reality of it. “Jens, I’m—"

“I know.”

No, that wouldn’t work. Again, “Jens, please, I’m—”

“It’s okay, Robbe, I know—”

“I don’t want you to know!” Robbe flopped a shirt down harder than he intended. “I want you to let me say it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m gay. That’s who I am. With or without Sander. Okay? I need you to understand that it’s like that with or without him.”

“I—”

“Don’t say you know. You’re my best friend.”

“Okay,” said Jens. “I understand.”

“Good.”

Jens closed his trunk on top of some clothing that spilled out the sides. He sat down on it to close the latch. Then he reached out and gathered Robbe into the tightest hug ever. It wasn’t nearly everything that Robbe wanted to say, but it was some, and Jens didn’t run away from him. Sexuality crisis, somewhat had. Robbe was sure there would be more later.

3. You don’t like me.

Robbe’s final exam was History of Magic. Luckily, his cramming paid off. He breezed through the questions on the first and second wars faster than any of his peers and was out the door within thirty minutes.

Most students were trapped in their classrooms for another half-hour or more. Empty corridor stretched in all directions, and Robbe didn’t have anything to do for the rest of the day. He knew where he wanted to go.

Sure enough, his astronomy tower perch was vacant. Bright sunlight dyed the campus in shades of yellow and gold, made the upper turrets appear as drawings from a children’s book. Robbe noted in passing that someone had collected Sander’s picnic blanket from its forlorn position on the roof. That made sense. Filch himself must have cleaned.

From overhead, soft music played. Robbe was sure he was hallucinating. He sat down on the sill.

Oh fuck, maybe not hallucinating. Noon cast a shadow of someone above onto the roof below.

Sander’s blanket wasn’t where he’d dropped it on night one because Sander sat on the overhang above the window. He had it splayed across the shingles, a compact player oozing the final lines of that same damn song on a loop, his wand gripped in his hands.

Robbe couldn’t escape him. Couldn’t escape how he felt about him. He could bring it under his control if he made it look purposeful.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t you have class?”

Sander startled.

This was a mistake. Never mind. Robbe should go.

He leaned even further out the window for a better view of Sander’s setup. A stack of textbooks balanced precariously, end on end, held aloft by a complicated charm of some sort. A quill rolled down the roof and stopped as if by an invisible wall. Sander had created a bubble for his things.

“Cheers to exams,” Robbe said, a bit louder. Sander did not look at him. The music cranked itself up to mask Robbe’s voice—perhaps it was spelled to muffle all noise Sander did not want to hear. That wasn’t fair. “This is my spot.”

“You said you didn’t want to be friends,” said Sander. He didn’t sound upset. Why did Robbe expect him to be upset?

“Can you turn down the music?”

“Britt’s going to join me.”

“That isn’t really what I asked.” Robbe wondered if interactions like this would ever stop hurting. But he didn’t feel as bad as he felt last week. Or on Friday night. Maybe the finality of a no was all he needed to move on. He recalled Sander’s speech word-for-word, mostly the end. You don’t like me.

It hit Robbe in a moment of irrational bravery, when Sander’s music dialed up in volume. Their first night in the astronomy tower, together, illuminated by Britt’s wand. The CD playing in the background. Sander knew what he was wearing on a specific double-date on a specific day—there was no denying something existed between them.

And to have Sander talk like that, say it was nothing… it wasn’t nothing, not to Robbe, and Sander needed to hear it.

So he said it. No introduction, no nothing. “I liked you.”

The Major-Tom-planet song quieted. Definitely some kind of magic there.

“I liked you so much,” he said again. Now that it existed, now that it was said, there was nothing to stop him from continuing. “You can’t tell me I didn’t.”

One of Sander’s quills rolled to the edge of the bubble, only this time, it dropped out and fell the length of the tower.

“We made it up, we agreed,” Sander whispered. “I’m sorry.” He slid down from the roof, landing beside Robbe on the sill, then jumped to the floor. His belongings trailed behind him in a floating line.

Robbe stood his ground and blocked the staircase. “It’s not your thing to decide.” His voice softened. “I liked you. So that’s that. And it’s done.”

Sander scuffed the floor with his shoe.

“Good. You never have to see me again.” Robbe pointed down the stairs for dramatic effect. “I have class. Bye.”

He felt lighter than he had all week when he descended the staircase. Any lighter, and he would have missed it when Sander said, “I liked you, too.”

4. He was a jerk to Noor.

Robbe sought her out on the train home, abandoning his friends in their own little compartment. They had plenty to discuss without his involvement. Pranks and whatnot. The usual. Noor was alone in a compartment near the back of the train, a dozen or so scrolls of parchment dispersed around her. She wrote on one with a broken quill.

She wasn’t a bad person. Robbe should have just told her. The least he could do was tell her when everything was over.

“Hey,” he said, taking the seat across from her.

She looked up, surprised. “Hello.”

“You seemed like you could use some company.”

Noor blushed. “No, I—Britt’s sitting elsewhere, and I have a lot to do.”

“With Sander,” Robbe supplied.

“What?”

“Britt’s with Sander.”

“Oh, um, actually—”

Robbe wasn’t in the mood for the nitty-gritty details of whatever Britt and Sander had going on. Obviously it was toxic. Not his problem. Besides, this conversation was for Noor’s sake, not his own.

“Listen, about me and him,” he said. “I need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to lead you on.” He hoped it wouldn’t get awkward. The extent of his recent planning was pretty much just say it without warning and hope it works out.

“I don’t read smoke signals,” said Noor curtly. She set her quill down on the seat next to her, ink stains bleeding into the cushioning. “But I get it.”

“No, it was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

Awkward silence. Robbe wasn’t built for prolonged chatter with anyone besides Jens, Moyo, and Aaron. The girls’ group was the exception, and only when Jana and Zoë were present. He fiddled with the beginning of a hole in his yellow sweater.

“I suppose I should apologize too,” said Noor, after a while. “That was fucked up, to say he’d get bored of you. I was a little—well, you know.”

“If it helps,” Robbe said, “you were right.”

Noor frowned. She sat up in her seat, and her parchment fell to the carriage floor. The sweets trolley passed by their sliding doorway without stopping—its driver could likely sense the tension. Robbe explained, “He’s back with Britt.”

“No, he isn’t,” said Noor. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Jana said—”

“Who would know better: Jana, or me?”

Robbe fumbled for something to say in response. Actually, now was a pretty good time to get out, before the topic became any more serious. He said, “He broke up with me.”

“It wasn’t for Britt. She helped him through some stuff, sure, but everyone knows that train’s come and gone.”

“I guess I’m just boring,” Robbe said.

“Bullshit.” Noor picked up her parchment again. She dipped her quill into her ink and began her writing anew, on whatever mess this was. Robbe couldn’t read fucking cursive. “I don’t believe it. Britt says he adored you.”

Robbe didn’t know what to make of that. There was no way he could segue into his next point, which was, of course, that their dating arrangement wasn’t real in the first place, especially after something so honest from Noor. He gave a bullshit excuse, something about chasing the sweets trolley, and got the hell out of there.

***

Robbe said goodbye to Moyo on the train platform. Jens and Aaron lived close enough that their parents parked in the same general vicinity, meaning that they could walk over as a trio. Robbe considered awaiting Sander on the platform as well. Every time he learned something new about Sander’s behavior when he wasn’t there, he got more and more confused. What fake relationship could be convincing enough to have Sander’s ex lamenting its reality?

The boys shared idle gossip on their way to the parking lot. Nothing substantial. Robbe’s head was too full of thoughts, most of them Sander-related. He wasn’t angry, or upset, or tired right now. How did knowing one little thing from Noor make a difference in his overall mood? They split off to their respective parents with casual goodbyes and a promise to write at least once during the holidays.

“Hey,” called Jens, just as Robbe opened the shotgun side.

Robbe turned back, his rucksack swinging off his shoulder. He swiped a hand across his eyes.

“Were you in love with him? Actually?”

They spent two weeks together. Two weeks, plus months and months of pining from afar that couldn’t count for much. It was supposed to last longer. What had Sander said, that day after their date? He wanted it to continue through the holiday break. And now, nothing. Robbe summarized this feeling the only way he knew how: “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

He climbed into his mother’s waiting car, and with that, it was Christmastime at the Ijzermans house.

[so-nightmary-ul]

Y/N is eight-year-old Julius’s ward.

Y/N is a twenty-year-old girl from our world who died. Her soul moved into the girl’s deceased body (it looks exactly like hers in childhood), from which, as a result of an illegal experiment, magic was taken away and thereby killed her in the world of the Black Clover. Y/N retained all her memories, including the plot of the anime. Julius took custody of her (let's be honest, Y/N just had no choice).

---

How it actually happened:

You were brought to the Clover castle almost at night. Supposedly secretly.

Marx met you, and then you both went to Julius.

Surprisingly, your conversation with him wasn't in his office, but in some room with a fireplace.

You were seated in one of the armchairs. Julius was sitting in the exactly same armchair opposite you.

In short, it all happened somehow like this:

You, in your thoughts: 'Perhaps I can replay this situation in my direction. It is only necessary to invent a story, how I–'

Julius: «You have the magic seal of reincarnation on you, so I know that you most likely don't belong here. You can tell me everything.»

You:

You, worried, still in your thoughts: 'oh,  s h i–'

Apparently, he understood everything from your face, so he just laughed and offered to calm down and drink some tea.

Your bare feet, and in principle whole of you, were cold (you were in one tattered dress, in which you woke up in this world). You agreed.

During the conversation, you told him about yourself, and how did you die. You even accidentally blabbed that you know some things about their world. And only God knows why you told him all this at all. You could simply be stubbornly silent, well, or at least lie.

Maybe there was something in this tea. Maybe.

By the way, Julius even used Marx, who had been standing at the door all this time, so that he would use his Memory Magic on you. With your consent, of course.

After all this, Julius offered to stay here. By «here» he most likely meant both «in this world» and «in this castle».

Marx, in the background: «Wha– Lord Julius!»

It's not like you were paranoid, but for some reason it seemed very suspicious to you. Too good option. Too tempting offer to refuse.

But since you also weren't too stupid and understood that you don't and will not have any other shelter (besides, a child not trained in magic, there is no place safer than under the wing of the Wizard King, right?), you agreed.

Although you had a growing feeling that you had just, like a nice little girl, been wrapped around little finger.

But it was necessary to come up with a story of how the hell a poor eight-year-old girl settled in the Clover castle (and not by order of someone, but by the Wizard King!).

What options just didn't sound! And the niece, and the extramarital daughter (Marx: «Lord Julius, PLEASE, everything but not THIS!»     You: «Extramarital? So you have children from marriage?»     Julius: «WAIT, THIS IS NOT WHAT I MEANT–»), and the goddaughter, and the student, and the adopted daughter.

You all agreed on a ward, who was left alone after the death of one of Julius’s close friends, and over whom he took custody in memory of this friend.

You mentally apologized to Zora and his father.

After that you all parted. Marx took you to the guest room, wished you a good night, and left.

In this way, you turned out to be the ward of Julius Novachrono, the 28th Wizard King.

Being in the world of the Black Clover:

The next morning, you were PRETTY sure that you were simply wrapped around little finger, without even a choice.

Therefore, the first thing you did when Julius took custody of you was making a deal with him. He works for at least a couple of hours, and you tell him a little about magic from other worlds (anime, manga, TV shows, and etc) for twenty minutes. And then everything repeats.

So that he doesn't think that life is sweet, and Marx has less stress. After all, it’s can't be just only one Julius who's being cunning, right?

But then you realized that this deal was even profitable for him. Because Julius was ready to do a lot for the knowledge about magic. And given the fact that now he knows that you know what kind of person he is…

You realized that you had been wrapped around little finger by the same person twice already.

After that, you gave up trying to somehow outwit the Wizard King. Mission is impossible.

However, now, even though earlier Marx didn't agree with the idea of ​​leaving you in the Clover castle, he is ready to take his words back. Your new ally in this world.

---

Sometime later, you already began to curse your little body. Because with such height it was very difficult to reach something. And you didn't want to call someone and ask to reach it, because

You: «EVEN IF I AM IN A CHILDREN’S BODY, IN THE SOUL I AM ALMOST TWENTY ONE YEAR! I AM A PROUD INDEPENDENT WOMAN!»

You:

You: «…and this proud independent woman is a little ashamed.»

In addition, you considered yourself smart enough to build a stable construction and reach something by yourself. And when you finally took the thing you needed in your hands, you realized that you weren’t smart enough to think about how to get down from this construction before climbing on it. And there was nobody around.

In this way, you met Owen, the royal healer. Because jumping from four large and tall chairs onto a slippery tiled floor with a scream «BANZAI!» was definitely not your best idea.

Marx, who came at the call of the servants: «Y/N! How did this even happen?! I understand that you might need a chair to reach something, if nobody is around, but…»

You: «It was a bookcase.»

Marx: «…FOUR chairs?!»

You: «It was a HIGH bookcase, and the book was almost on the top shelf.»

Marx:

Owen:

You:

You: «I'm sorry, this will not happen again…»

In general, you were remembered by the royal healer as a quite smart little troublemaker.

---

At first you were afraid to leave the room once again, and if you left, you tried not to encounter people. But then you sent everything to the devi– hell. They can't blame you for anything.

We all know that Julius is 42 years old. Men at this age are usually tend to splashing out their paternal instinct on someone small, like a child (even if the body of this child contains the soul of a deceased and reincarnated twenty-year-old girl from another world, yeah). In general, that's why Julius gives out some EXTRA attention to you.

And even if, when he pampers you or has some baby-talk with you, your gaze literally told «what the hell are you doing». It breaks his little, poor, fatherly heart a little.

By the way, after Julius heard about your healing from Owen, he asked the servants to collect, according to your instructions, the books that you would like to read. A mini library in your room.

In general, you suspected that a child’s body sometimes still somehow affects your mind. Like «child mod». Because the former you would think twice– no, three times before doing something like that. You haven't seen another explanation.

Since there was absolutely nothing for you to do in this world, everything you did around the clock was walking around the territory of the Clover castle, reading, and sometimes talking with Julius outside his working hours.

By the way, the first time you opened a book, you realized that you don't understand almost a single letter. And you were surprised to find a book with the alphabet and basic grammar rules in the royal library (exhale, Marx, it was at an accessible height). Apparently, there is really everything in this all-praised royal library.

Julius was really upset that you didn't give him a chance to teach you how to read and write, since you did it by yourself.

But then you discovered drawing, and that was all.

DrAwInG fOr EvErYoNe

Yes, Marx, and for you.

Yes, Julius, and for you too. Don't make such a sad look.

By the way, about one of the consequences of Owen’s healing. You were ashamed of such childish rash behavior. Especially in front of Marx. Therefore, since then, sometimes you ask him for some work for yourself to at least help him a little with his work. Usually it's just taking something to someone, that is, the work of a messenger.

+1000 to Marx’s respect

There are days when Julius’s fatherly instinct pierces the sky. On such days, he comes to wake you up, although you usually wake up on your own. Then you have breakfast together (and Novachrono will not miss the chance to softly joke on you for something). You go to his office, where he works, and you either sit on his lap or draw or read while sitting next to him. Have lunch and dinner together. Then, by nightfall, Julius reads something out loud to you, like fairy tales, and can even kiss you on the forehead.

This is very kind of you, Julius.

But please don't do this anymore.

Julius doesn't hear your thoughts and sometimes continues to do so.

Once you got a little sick, and it was a  c h a o s.

Then was your Birthday. Just a few months later. And there are two options for the development of event: 1) you don't tell them about it, and they somehow know about it themselves (it's impossible to hide something from the Wizard King)  —>  Julius’s fatherly instinct is sounding an alarm  —> literally the best Birthday; 2) you tell them about it  —>  Julius’s fatherly instinct is sounding the alarm  —> literally the best Birthday. In the end, it all ends the same way.

At some point, it dawned on you that you feel like Asta, looking at people using their magic.

SORRY, JULIUS, BUT WE NEED TO TALK

SAY NO MORE, HE WAS BORN READY FOR THIS

Although the body of the girl, which was occupied by your soul, was emptied of magic, apparently, this didn't apply to your soul.

No matter what your type of magic is, this man is THRILLED.

Then the holy  c a n o n  and the intrigues of the Eye of the Midnight Sun began, during which you, singing a quiet melody, painted «Licht» and his three-eyed gang. Then, with a sweet smile on your face and a creepy chuckle, painted over the whole sheet with black paint. And then burned this sheet in the fireplace.

Even knowing what would happen with Julius during the insurrection of the elves, it was painful.

Well, Julius’s fatherly instinct was now more like the older brother’s instinct. It bothered you a lot less. It, obviously, suited you more.

Now you and Julius are a team. Team We-do-not-look-at-our-chronological-age LOL

The captains of the Orders of the Magic Knights:

You didn't plan to meet with the captains of the orders for at least some more time, but then they had a meeting, and at the same time you mistaken the door, and here we are.

Frightened, when all eyes turned sharply on you, you wanted to apologize and quickly get out, but then Julius said cheerfully: «Oh, Y/N, it's you! Feel free to come in! Oh yes, you are not familiar. This is Y/N. She is my ward.»

Novachrono (the cunning, as he is) didn't even try to conceal you.

The first phrase, which instantly ended the dead silence in the room, belonged to the captain of the Black Bull.

Yami: «Damn, old man, when did you have time?»

Hearing «ward», they ALL thought not about what Julius really meant. But Sukehiro voiced this idea first and only.

You almost started to make excuses, but Julius spoke first in time. He explained the situation to them, and for some reason almost all the captains exhaled synchronously with relief.

The meeting could be officially considered interrupted, because c'mon, guys, this is the ward of the Wizard King.

If you are an introvert and don't like large crowds, then RIP

---

Rill was the first to come, as, apparently, the youngest of them. He began to chatter quickly and indistinctly, at the same time shaking your hands. From his monologue, you only understood that he was the captain of the Azure Deer, that he was nineteen, and that he was very glad to see you. Upon knowing that you like to draw (You, in your thoughts: 'It's not like I like it, I just don't even have much to do'), he began to speak even more merrily and to shake hands more intensely. Charlotte saved you from a dislocation of both arms. Stepping closer, she told Rill to stop, after what he, upset, fell behind.

You and Charlotte just stared at each other for a while. But then you had the urge to poke a finger into her cloak and say: «This is my favorite color.» After that, her face twitched for a second, and then she smiled a little. Charlotte gave you a blue rose created by her magic. When, having accepted the flower, you smiled broadly at the woman (you really like blue roses), the sound of a cracked heart was heard by you. But you still don't understand who it was coming from: Julius or Charlotte.

«Oh God, queen of thorns, what kind of expression that was now? Is your nerve pinched?» it was that phrase with which Yami came up to the two of you. Charlotte blushed, you looked at Sukehiro’s formidable face (he was your favorite character in the anime because of his jokes). When you coughed because of tobacco smoke, someone instantly exclaimed: «YAMI, PUT OUT THE CIGARETTE.» He was dissatisfied, but didn't put it out, but just moved away. This upset you a little.

Jack is creepy by himself, and now that you are standing right in front of him, and he, with his enormous height, hangs over you, you were scared three times more. You really froze, thinking that if Jack confuses you with a statue, he will lose interest in you. You could well have passed out because of fear, but Fuegoleon saved the situation.

He greeted you fairly adequately, asked for your name, and then called his. You thought that he was raising Leopold, so he has some communication skills with children. But Fuegoleon was strangely curious (which you thought was especially unusual for him). He asked about your hobbies, magic, and how do you generally live in the Clover castle. You liked to communicate with him.

Nozel didn't even get up from his place, content with what he was observing from the side. He only said (quite proudly) his name and then asked about your past parents. Julius answered him for you, on the go inventing that they were not from the nobility and other. Knowing that you're not from the nobility, he seems to have quickly lost interest.

William was the last to come. He squatted in front of you (the only one, by the way) and, smiling, called his name. Julius whispered to you: «William loves kids.» Knowing the plot of the Black Clover, you also smiled awkwardly at him, clutching Charlotte’s rose more tightly in your hands. You looked intently into his eyes, apparently trying to find something of Patri’s soul, but failed. And then you realized that for a long time you was indecently staring at a person and hastened to make excuses, blurting out the first thing that came to mind: «You have beautiful eyes.» William was surprised at first, but then again smiled only somehow differently. You thought you would die because of shame.

Dorothy and Gueldre didn't talk to you much. Well, that is, Unsworth snuffle something, but you didn't understand anything. And Poizot silently looked at you somehow strange, because of what you quickly looked away. These were the eyes of a crook merchant.

A few headcanons about the captains:

If you think Julius’s fatherly care is the most awkward care you ever received, then take your words back immediately.

One of the captains could well lend you one of their Magic Knights, if you need to go, for example, to the city.

Sometimes you and Rill draw together. Honestly, you're a little depressed by the fact that he draws 100 times better than you. And if you suddenly get the opportunity to be with him when he uses his magic, the «child mod» is switched-on in you, and you start to advise him what to draw in order to win. There is no need to say that he likes you very much, right?

At one point, Charlotte realized that you looked a bit like Yami. She, you and Yami appeared in her head. F A M I L Y. Charlotte’s heart cracked a second time.

At first, Sukehiro for some reason didn't like you too much. But then, when you became interested in his katana and muscles, perhaps he became more favorable a little. Perhaps.

You still stare a little suspiciously at William when you see him. Absolutely unaware of what was going on in his head.

Patri, don't make such face. Yes, she has the magic seal of reincarnation on her. Patri?.. PATRI, DON'T YOU DARE–

But William knows how to make good wood figures.

If one day someone decides to kidnap you or something, he is better off using all the luck he has. Because when he blunders, no one will ever see him again.

You really like spending time in the World of Dreams with Dorothy.

At some point, you became aware of yourself braiding Fuegoleon’s hair. You wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that it was just a dream, but decided to still watch this fascinating dream, while there is a chance.

Soon you realized that you were not sleeping.

You gave almost all of them a drawing of themselves.

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Rules:

1. Reblog this post (You don’t have to be following me to participate (but I’d appreciate it), I just would like this on your page 😊)

2. Send me an ask (not into my messages because they will get lost) with the name of the person you want to write for as well as the prompt you choose from below (Limit 2 people per prompt and 2 prompts per person) (First come, first serve by asks)

a. I’ll cross out prompts that are unavailable if people choose them, so always look for the most updated version of this post.b. If your writing account isn’t the one you’ve send an ask with, please include the name of your account at the end of the ask!

3. Use the hashtag #Riaswritingchallenge and tag me so I can see what you created! (make sure you use the correct tag because that will be how I am looking for posts)

a. I will reblog all the posts you write and if I don’t reblog within 3 days, send me an ask to make sure I see it

4. If it’s more than 1.5K (no word limit, go for it), add a keep reading option please so we don’t have pages and pages of pieces

a. If you can’t, that’s fine, I don’t think you can on the mobile

5. Don’t Stress and Have Fun! We aren’t comparing works to anyone; we’re just sharing what we wrote!

6. I’m not putting an end date on this challenge until I see activity! I’ll reblog with a date when I have one.

EDIT: So I’ve decided not to take requests for myself off this list and just leave these prompt to you guys, SO PLEASE DON’T SEND ME REQUESTS FROM THESE LISTS! CHOOSE ONES FOR YOU TO WRITE! 😊 Thank you!

Characters (Pick ANY character from a fandom):

The 100• Marvel• Harry Potter• Flash• Walking Dead• <- those are examples, choose what ever you’d like!

Prompts (specify which list in ask):

Fluff:

1. “Just hold me close and never let go.”

The One by @with1love1anu (Sirius Black x Reader)

2. “You may be good, but I’m better.” 

@abysshaven (Draco Malfoy x reader)

3. “You know, I’d go through hell for you.” “Really?” “Yeah, or well, really hot weather.”

@abysshaven (Draco Malfoy x reader)

@fridasfantasy (Zuko x Reader)

4. “Well you’re fun.” “And you’re annoying.”

Sirius Black x Reader by @valiantartwritingweasel

Just my Type by @writeseasonally (Fred Weasley x Reader)

5. “You’re drunk.” “I’m not drunk.” “Then what are you?” “…I’m not dead, right?”

@nekoannie-chan (Brock Rumlow x Reader)

Truth under Moonlight by @approved-by-dentists (Sirius Black x Reader)

6. “You’re a lot more interesting in my head.”

Hoax by @seiraswriting (Hermione Granger x Reader)

7. “You just have to trust me.”

Proud of you by @fandomscombine (George Weasley x Reader)

8. “Time flies when you’re a prisoner.”

9. “You’re my home.”

Home by @capsheadquaters (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

10. “Thanks for not killing me.”

@wonderful-writer​ (Sirius Black x Reader)

11. “I’m going to choose to take pride in that.”

Freedom of Innocence by @summer-writes (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Gone by @moony-writes-stuff​ (George Weasley x Reader)

12. “You’re my second chance.”

@bad268 (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Second Chances by @shaynawrites23 (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

13. “Take me by the hand and hold me tight.”

If it Hurts by @oingo233 (Daryl Dixon x reader)

14. “I’m proud of us.”

15. “Will you get off me?”

Snowscape by @kalimagik (Fred Weasley x Reader)

16. “I didn’t think it was possible, but I just fell more in love with you.”

@they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon (Remus Lupin x Reader)

I Love you by @theonly1outof-a-billion​​ (Mob!Tom Holland x Reader)

17. “You are everything I dreamed of.”

@the-moon-and-the-book​ (Remus Lupin x Reader)

18. “Here, let me help you.”

@dreamer821 (Sirius Black x Reader)

19. “Can I have a kiss? Please?”

Can I kiss you? by @bad268 (Julian Albert x Reader)

20. “Your hand is so soft.”

Gentle Hands by @johnmurphyisbisexual (John Murphy x Reader)

21. “I’ve been thinking-“ “uh oh.”

A Beautiful Dream by @missmulti (Remus Lupin x Reader)

22. “But you love me anyways.”

@leah-ravenanne (James Potter x Reader)

Secret Admirer by @shaynawrites23 (Sirius Black x Reader)

23. “Want a back rub?”

24. “Can we cuddle?”

Gentle Hands by @johnmurphyisbisexual (John Murphy x Reader)

25. “You realize how insane you sound, right?”

Crazy for You by @writeroutoftime (Sirius Black x Reader)

@wonderful-writer​ (Sirius Black x Reader)

26. “Stop making that face. It’s too cute.”

Proud of you by @fandomscombine (George Weasley x Reader)

27. You are perfect for me.”

Party Revelations by @angelinathebook (Sirius Black x Reader)

28. “You’re so warm.”

Snowscape by @kalimagik (Fred Weasley x Reader)

29. “I love you more every day.”

30. “Where’s my morning kisses?”

31. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Comfort by @iliveiloveiwrite (Sirius Black x reader)

32. “I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

Comfort by @iliveiloveiwrite (Sirius Black x Reader)

33. “Stop stealing my food.”

34. “Wow, I almost forgot how beautiful you were.”

@hollands-weasley (Fred Weasley x Reader)

35. “There’s an open seat on my lap.”

Party Revelations by @angelinathebook (Sirius Black x Reader)

@stiles-o-dylan24 (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

36. “Please just look at me.”

@horsegirly99 (Remus Lupin x Reader)

37. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Star Crossed Lovers by @missmulti (James Sirius Potter x Reader)

@horsegirly99 (Remus Lupin x Reader)

38. “Netflix and cuddle?”

39. “I can count to ten.” “You can barely get to 3.”

40. “My best friend is an idiot. Awesome.”

Angst:

1. “Despite everything, I still care about you.”

Blind Love by @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

2. “I should go…”

Never Leave Me Again by @with1love1anu (George Weasley x Reader)

@they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon (Remus Lupin x Reader)

3. “Joke’s on me, right?”

To Love and Be Used by @the-moon-and-the-book (James Potter x Reader)

4. “Break my heart, I’ll break your face.”

5. “Fuck you and your promises.”

Promises by @masterofthedarkness (Fred Weasley x Reader)

6. “Remember when I asked for your opinion? No? Me neither.”

7. “I’m not worth dying for.”

A Beautiful Dream by @missmulti (Remus Lupin x Reader) 

8. “There’s still good in you.”

All for You by @blisfvll (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

9. “I thought you died.”

Home by @capsheadquaters (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

@screennamealreadyused (Jason Todd x Reader)

10. “Don’t touch me.”

@screennamealreadyused (Jason Todd x Reader)

11. “I’m fine.” *Passes out*

Can I kiss you? by @bad268 (Julian Albert x Reader)

@dreamer821 (Sirius Black x Reader)

12. “I was hoping you’d save us both.”

Never Leave Me Again by @with1love1anu (George Weasley x Reader)

13. “I’m invisible.”

14. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

To Love and Be Used by @the-moon-and-the-book (James Potter x Reader)

15. “You’re not you.”

16. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? I’m not.”

@novellaquill (Barry Allen x reader, The originals crossover)

17. “Okay, fuck you.”

18. “You wanna play hero? Be my guest.”

Drama by @obsessedwithrandomthings (Remus Lupin x Reader)

19. “You’re an asshole.”

20. “I hope it was worth it.”

21. “Trust me, it could get a whole lot worse.”

22. “The only mistake I made was you.”

@acciomarauders (Regulus Black x Reader)

23. “Prove to me you’re different, then I’ll believe you.”

@stiles-o-dylan24 (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

24. “No one blames you.” “I do.”

All for you by @blisfvll (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

25. How come you’re still here?”

26. “This is when you stop talking.”

27. “How am I supposed to say goodbye to you?”

@novellaquill (Barry Allen x reader, The originals crossover)

28. “God, just let me fall apart.”

Gone by @moony-writes-stuff​ (George Weasley x Reader)

29. “Just let me die.”

John Murphy x Reader by @johnmurphyisbisexual

Duelled by @teheharrypotter (Sirius Black x Reader)

30. “You got to let go.”

Star Crossed Lovers by @missmulti (James Sirius Potter x Reader)

31. “Why can’t you look at me like you look at her?”

Fool’s Gold by @marauderswhisperer (James Potter x Reader)

32. “You don’t get to die today.”

If it Hurts by @oingo233 (Daryl Dixon x reader)

33. “I’m spiraling and I can’t make it stop.”

John Murphy x Reader by @johnmurphyisbisexual

34. “You’re never too broken to be fixed.”

She’s a Survivor by @eleven-times-lively (Remus Lupin x Reader)

35. “Fun? Is that all I am to you? Fun?”

36. “I would’ve given my life up for you, but now? Now I don’t even know you.”

@shatteredlovesick (Steve Rogers x reader)

37. “I haven’t been the same since you left me.”

Charm-ed by @nekoannie-chan (Steve Rogers x Reader)

38. “You were supposed to protect me.”

39. “You gave me the world, but it wasn’t enough.”

40. “Give me another chance to prove I am still in love with you.”

Smut:

(Sorry I couldn’t find or come up with more smut ones lol)

1. “Ruin me.”

2. “Lose the shirt.”

3. “You know we’re in public, right?”

4. “Be good.” “Or what, you’ll punish me?”

5. “I can’t wait to get you alone tonight.”

6. “Spread your legs for me.”

7. “Remember. You’re mine.”

8. “Stop the lip biting, you’re driving me crazy.”

9. “Tonight, you’re in control.”

10. “I’m not wearing anything under this.”

11. “Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

Learned your Lesson by @johnmurphyisbisexual (John Murphy x Reader)

12. “Aw, is somebody jealous?”

13. “If you wanna fuck, just say the words.”

14. “I forgot how much I missed seeing you beneath me.” 

@shatteredlovesick (Steve Rogers x Reader)

15. “Oh, fuck you!” “Your place or mine?”

16. “Was the sex really that good?”

17. “Like what you’re seeing?”

18. “On your knees.”

19. “Handcuffs? Sounds fun.”

20. “Touch yourself for me.”

Learned your Lesson by @johnmurphyisbisexual (John Murphy x Reader)

21. “Try not to ruin the sheets, I just cleaned them.”

22. “Why is your dick out?”

23. “Boobies!”

24. “I think the condom broke.”

Oh, baby by @grounderxbellamy (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

25. “Cute underwear.”

[han-shinsuke]

Creaky Bed

Sachiro Hirugami x Luna x Miya Atsumu

🔞🔞🔞⚠️⚠️

Aphrodisiac: THE HILLS ( the weeknd )

///

"Twenty billion dollars," my voice and composure did not falter as I let myself dressed in thin black fabric, enter the hundred years old conference room of out ancestral house.

The two dignified men, still in their suit and tie, chokes in their brandy. They eyed me from head to toe and both clear their throats to regain their composures.

The Counselor who is also the Legal Adviser of the Prime Minister, stands first.

"What a lovely sight, Luna, still careless eh?" Sachiro greeted me, half smiling. "The process of ownership is on the final reading. You can't negotiate anymore. The committee won't allow a woman to interfere their work," he added.

"And twenty billion dollars today is just a centavo. What else can you offer, princess? I might change my mind and overrule the decision of the committee," the Prime Minister remain on his seat, crossing his long legs on top of the oval desk.

I shoot him a glare when I noticed his eyes plastered on my chest.

Barefoot and unprotected, I stand on my feet, radiating my infamous established authority.

"A centavo huh? May I remind you how you two used to be my toys and servants."

Atsumu Miya, Japan's current Prime Minister, let out a loud laugh that echoes in the four corners of the room. "And may I remind you as well how you lost your innocence under my touch, Luna, I was your first, princess."

My cheeks and ears turned red with the mention of our past together. These men, Atsumu Miya and Sachiro Hirugami, were my childhood friends. They are both five years older than me so they are like big brothers for me. We all came from a wealthy and influential family but I was only seventeen when our family business faced a crisis. Atsumu's family was held responsible for my well being and future. They took good care of me while I was still under their roof. Sachiro who lived few blocks away from the Miyas, visits often.

Me being a confident brat, still boss them around even in front of their parents and relatives. They're my toys! But this man, Miya Atsumu, used tricks against me! It was the night of my eighteenth birthday when I gave a signed consent, allowing him to offer me an alcoholic drink, which his parents didn't approved. I was so drunk that night to realize that I was being dragged inside his bathroom. Atsumu insulted and belittled my alcohol tolerance and my capabilty to handle myself.

His words sounds like a challenge to me. A provocation I still regret up until now. I may be a brat but I have a dream of doing it with my husband.

Atsumu had me that night. The loud and deafening sounds of water pouring from the shower head still echoes in my head. He used it to camouflage my cries and screams as he forced himself into me.

He was smiling the whole time he's doing it. He's big and strong and he knows my weakness. He knows how to make me surrender to him. As I am about to fall asleep in his arms under the pouring water that night, I catch a glimpse of Sachiro walking towards us, removing his clothes.

So yeah, they both had me on my eighteenth birthday! And now, they are the challenge I must conquer! They just won't let me win! This mansion is my family property! This is not a state property! I won't let my enemies win against me again! I will make sure to take back what's ours!

"I am Japan's youngest billionaire and no one would dare defy me, even you, Mr. Prime Minister," that's the confidence, Luna! I cheered for myself internally.

Sachiro who has been silent for a moment, chuckles, "your arrogance makes me wanna rip your thin clothes and bend you over right here, right now."

"Oh! Mr. Counselor, I would love that only if you promise to be gentle. Your morality during sex sickens me. I prefer to fckk a man with ethics," I've been in war for years with different individuals. He's just a dust for me.

Sachiro chuckles again while Atsumu watches us throwing insults at each other, "as much as I want to talk about ethics with you, I would rather prefer tasting your lips," he says, making my blood boils in anger.

"You should kiss your Minister's lips then, he is more capable of quenching your thirst, councelor," I said then smirked at Atsumu who is obviously enjoying our discussions.

Atsumu being a politician that he is responds quickly, "Men don't interest me, Luna, I'm into politics and ruling a district. It is my job after all. Now, Ms. Corporate Heir, let's book an appointment, you and I behind closed door, moaning, yes?"

"If you moan louder, hand me the land title of this property, yes?" I said in my low voice.

"Let me join, guys, yes?" Sachiro butt in.

"No! I can't handle two guys at a time!"

"Weak."

"Weak."

I massage my forehead, sighing. They're really testing my patience.

"Fuck this life," I whispered. I flash them my sweet smile then said, "Scream or moan a word, game will be over, yes?"

"Deal!" the two men said in unison.

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🚱🚱🚱🚱🚱🚱

The door in the attic slams open, giving a path for the three naked persons who storms in, clothes are scattered on the staircases. Pants and heavy breathings could be heard.

Atsumu waste no time and push Luna on the creaky bed, putting his weight on top of her as he smash his lips on hers. Luna grabs Atsumu's face and cave in her mouth on his lower lip, kissing him torridly. Atsumu's hands roam around her body, squeezing her soft skin, leaving some red marks caused by his fingers. Atsumu bit hard on Luna's lower lip, making her whimper. Luna who keeps a clear mind, set a mental reminder that she must not let out a moan or a single word. Some thing is at stake so she need to win. She shut her eyes closed while still exchanging torrid laps with Atsumu's warm and cherry like lips. She suck on his tongue and push for a deep, locking lips kisses. Atsumu who is also putting up a fight against her, groan in pleasure inside his head.

Sachiro stands a feet away from the creaky bed and starts stroking his erected cock. He can still vividly remember the same event ten years ago. Atsumu fucking Luna diabolically can make him sexually aroused. His friend is a sex monster.

Sachiro follows Atsumu's hands wherever it goes on Luna's tempting body. His speed of stroking his cock increases, revealing the pink flesh of its' head whenever the skin was pulled down a little lower from the tip.

Atsumu breaks the kiss and push his body a bit higher from her softness. He examines her face down to her womanhood. Atsumu couldn't believe he gets to taste her childhood friend again. Luna is panting when Atsumu starts groping her breast, kneading it hard. Luna rolls her head backwards, lower body aching for more touch.

Luna's face turns bright red when Atsumu suck in one nipple to his mouth, attaching his rough tongue on it. She grabs his head and shoves her breast deep on his mouth. Atsumu curses a lot in his head. He can't moan and that frustrates him! Due to his frustrations, Atsumu sucks harder on Luna's nipples, following it with deep bites around the buds.

Luna writhes in pleasure and curl up herself underneath Atsumu who's lips is traveling down to her navel he slightly poked with his tongue. The Prime Minister' lips ended on her drenched clit, poking it with his tongue. She was about to grab on Atsumu's head when he stopped her from doing so. Atsumu quiclky flipped her down on her stomach, face facing the mattress.

Sachiro then joins the two on the bed. He sits on the pillow, back against the headboard as he spread his legs, placing Luna's face between it.

Sachiro move in rhythm with Atsumu. He cup her face and grip her jaw, making Luna wince from pain. Atsumu on the other hand spank her ass harshly until it turns red and his hand marks are visible. Luna bit hard on her lower lips to prevent herself from crying and moaning.

A moment later, Atsumu plunges in three fingers on Luna's cunt, forcing her to squeeze her legs together but Atsumu disapproves it. He spank her again and using his free hand, he pry open her legs and starts pumping there.

Luna's hands fisted on the sheet, still suppresing her moans and cries. Sachiro exchanges signals with Atsumu and the two men smiles at each other. Luna's eyes widened when Sachiro put the tip of his cock between her lips and push it slowly until it reaches her throat, gagging her with its size. She feel her tears streams down her face. Sachiro loves that look on her face so he guides her head up and down his thickness, Luna's warm saliva painting his size down to his balls. Sachiro opened his mouth and silently gasped for air.

Little they did know, Luna will make sure to bring home the trophy. So, as long as she can, they won't hear her moan. Atsumu and Sachiro will moan her name, begging!

Luna cages in Sachiro's cock between her palms then starts stroking it as she keeps sucking on its length, kissing the tip and blowing some hot breath on it. She smiles, admiring how Sachiro bite his lower lip to keep himself silent.

Fuck! Luna cursed in her head. Atsumu hit her butt cheeks again... hard. She almost bit the hardness of Sachiro's cock when she felt the pain caused by his palms.

Atsumu continues pumping his three fingers in her pussy, her juice smoothening the muscles around her cunt. The squelching noises of Atsumu's fingers inside her pussy and Sachiro's cock between her lips are now the only sounds she can hear at this hour.

Luna grinds her core against Atsumu's pumping fingers while her lips is still intact with the counselor's throbbing cock.

"Fuck aaahhh! Just give up the land title already, Tsumu aaah! Fuck your warm mouth, Luna! I'll dump all my cum in there aaahh!" Sachiro 'the councelor' Hirugami cannot contains his moan any longer. He moaned loudly and releases heavy breaths as he explodes his jizz inside her mouth that's obviously can't handle all of his juice. As evidence, some of his cream drips out from Luna's lips as she struggles to gulp down it all.

"Fuck, Sachiro! You fucking dumbass! Fuck the land title! I will destroy you good, woman!" Atsumu curses so loud that made Luna laugh from victory.

But Luna's laugh fades so soon when Atsumu flip her again. He lays her on her back on the bed and spread her legs wider.

"The only hole I would dip my cock deep," Atsumu says, smirking. He signals something to Sachiro and the next thing she knew, Atsumu is holding a dildo and attach it to his cock and inserts both in her pussy.

"Ah, shit! Wa–wait aaaaahhhhhhhh!" Atsumu dig a cock and a dildo into her pussy, making Luna scream.

Atsumu then proceeds pumping two dicks in her cervix, both length scraping her insides, sending jolts of electricity throughout her veins.

Sachiro chuckles, seeing Luna's face get dampen with tears. He pins her both hands on her sides, restricting her movements. Sachiro kneels above her and for the second time, he shoves his still hardened cock into her mouth.

Mr. Counselor loves face fucking and he loves it more if it is Luna's face and mouth he's fucking.

The two men moves together. They dive into her holes, two cock in her pussy and a dick between her lips. Sachiro and Atsumu thrusts their cocks way deeper and harder she could think of. The bed creaks loudly from the hard pounding on top of it.

Luna feels Atsumu's hand on his stomach and draws circles there.

"Do you feel it, princess hmm? My cock and this dildo are currently hitting your g-spot, you wanna scream? you wanna moan? Oh! You can't. Sachiro is face fucking you," he is so cruel! She thought. They are both cruel!

Luna can't fucking moan. Her screams is being muffled by Sachiro's fat and long cock thrusting in and out her mouth.

Luna feels so much embarrassment! She hates to admit it but she loves how the two men are fucking her roughly. It makes her feel special!

Sachiro's cock throbs in her mouth. A sign of an upcoming orgasm. She also feels Atsumu's cock throbs around her core. He tossed away the dildo after pulling it out her pussy. If her calculations are right, and the throbbing cocks signifies, they are both cumming.

"Aaahh fucckk! Want my juice, princess huh? I'm aahh cummingg~" Atsumu pound his cock deeper and faster, making her breast bounce from the shaking of muscles.

"Fckk fuckkk! Drink my aaahh fucking cum, Lunaaa~ fucckkk!" Sachiro explodes his cream in her mouth again, groping her breast and pinching its nipples.

Luna struggle drinking Sachiro's cum as she tries to moan out the pleasure from Atsumu's rough pounding in her cunt.

Sachiro pulls out his cock and strokes it, his eyes closed, moaning Luna's name repeatedly, "Lunaaa aaahh~ Fuckkk~"

"Aaahhh! Aaaahhh! Fuck, sweetheart! Your muscles clenching my aaaahhj cocckkk fucckk!" Atsumu waves his hips harder as he moan loudly and moments later, Luna feel the warm and large volume of juice he release inside her.

"Atsumu aaahhh~ Sh–shit aaahhh~" Luna moan weakly, Atsumu still pumping his hips on hers, draining all of her remaining energy. She have told this before! She can't handle two cocks at the same time.

Luna still hasn't regain her energy and wasn't given time to calm her breathing when the two men lift her weak body. Atsumu sits her on Sachiro's lap, facing the counselor. Sachiro waste no time and put his cock inside Luna's core.

Luna drops her head on Sachiro's shoulder and moan on his neck. They just released their cums inside her but here they are, going in for another round.

Sachiro hold her face and crash his lips on her quivering ones. He sucks in her lips and nibble on it, inserting his tongue in her mouth. His lips grazes against hers and even on her weak state, Luna kiss him back. Sachiro moans in her mouth and that's enough to keep her going.

"I love your ass, Luna, may I come in?" Luna feels like cursing Atsumu but she hold back, instead, she just nodded at him.

Atsumu gave her ass a hard spank before shoving his wet cock inside her anus. Luna's arms grips tigthly around Sachiro's shoulders. She withdrew from their kiss and she buried her face under his jaw. Sachiro laughed at Atsumu who struggles to fit his hardness in her unscathed butthole.

"Didn't know her ass was a virgin!" Atsumu exclaims, pushing himself deeper.

Sachiro lay on his back, arms wrapped around Luna's shaking body. His cock still buried deep in her pussy.

Luna sobs from the pain and Sachiro caresses her back as they both wait for Atsumu to adjust himself inside her.

"Ssshhh, it will go away, Luna," Sachiro comforts her and she just nodded.

"You are so fucking tight, princess! fuck!" Atsumu pulls out his cock from her butthole, earning a groan of pain from Luna.

Atsumu spits his saliva on Luna's butthole and scrapes a small amount of the mix cum dripping from her pussy, where Sachiro's cock is buried. Atsumu rubs the cum on her butt entrance then spank her ass again. Luna sobs louder, feeling him again inserting his shaft into her anus.

"No more aaahhhh pleaseee~" Luna pleads for her dear life but Atsumu enjoy her cries. Pushing again deeper and this time, his cock slides smoothly inside her butt.

"Ooohhhh fuck! I'm in! I am fucking inside your butt, princess!" Atsumu with so much excitement starts pounding her from behind.

Luna scratch on Sachiro's skin and sob and moan from both pain and pleasure. The man under her also starts thrusting his hips up, joining the rhythm of Atsumu's hips.

"Oooohhhhh aaaahhhhh~ sl–slow down aaahhh pleaseee aaahhhh~ it s–still hurts aahhh~" Luna's cries became louder each seconds. The two men pound her from behind and underneath her, leaving her with no option but to moan and cry.

Her body trembles from receiving their merciless thrusts. Atsumu wraps his fingers around her neck and push deeper in her butt. Sachiro, while thrusting his cock, put a thumb on his clitoris and rub it hard. Luna moan so loud that it brings another level of excitement on the two men.

"Aaahhhh~ daddy aaahhhh cummm in–inside mee aahhh~"

Sachiro and Atsumu dig deeper through their cocks and the tension in her stomach tightens.

Luna's weak body starts trembling, her hand gripping on the sheet. Sachiro also feel his peak is nearing so he put a hand on Luna's mouth and covers it while unloading his cum in her swollen pussy.

"Fuckk I–I'm cumming aaahhh~ call me da–daddy, princess aahhh fucking call me daddyyyy~" Atsumu squirts his juice into her, body shaking from intense orgasm.

"Fuck, Luna, didn't know you can aahhhh scream like that aaahhhh~" Sachiro still covering her mouth as she moan in it. Luna received the men's final thrust and ejaculates all their thick cream in her holes.

Sachiro and Atsumu pulls out their pulsating cockc from her holes and lays Luna on her back.

Luna is breathing heavily. She can't feel her legs. Her butt and her cunt feels numb too. Their mix cum drips on her thigh, down to the back of her legs.

She was fucking creampied by these two massive men.

"Call the committee, Sachiro, tell them to bring the contract here tomorrow," Atsumu commands his Political Advisor but Sachiro just smirked at him before returning on the bed.

Sachiro bend the legs of the sleepy woman on the bed and position himself in between.

Sachiro slides his cock inside her cunt and turn to Atsumu saying these, "you fucking make the call, Mr. Prime Minister, I still have seeds to plant," and just like that, Sachiro Hirugami made his way deeper into Luna's swollen core.

••••

BONUS:

Luna after receiving the land title of ownership of their ancestral house.

She pays the two men a visit in their office and brings them a pack of meals.

Sachiro and Atsumu gave her a questioning look and she arrogantly insults them even if they are not doing anything wrong to her,

"I don't intend to misconstrue your behaviors and titles, gentlemen, but I don't think you two, are sexually capable of making a lady scream in satisfaction."

"what?"

"what?"

"Stop giving me that look. Yes, I am challenging your sexual capabilities. Make me scream. Make me moan. Yes? Yes?"

"Atsumu, ready the chains and dildos! This woman deserves a beating!" Sachiro said in his devilish tone.

•••

MAG COMMENT NAMAN KAYO PARA MASA GANAHAN KAMI GUMAWA NG SMUTS HAHAHAH! THANK YOU SA MAGBABASA!

The longest smut I have ever written!

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 72

WARNING: some smut

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007​

They lay in a mess of rumbled and twisted sheets and naked limbs; bodies sated and spent and covered in thin sheens of sweat that glisten in the moonlight. His chest against her back and his arm stretched across her pillow; her head resting on his bicep and one his thick, muscular legs draped over hers.  His eyes are closed, chin perched upon the top of her head; relaxed by the familiar smell that clings to her hair and skin and the warmth that radiates from her smooth, supple body. Enjoying the soft, almost tickling sensation of two of her fingertips moving against his palm; smoothing over the calluses and tracing slow circles and random patterns. It’s the simplest things that  he often enjoys the most; the way their bodies -despite the substantial difference in both weight and height- recognize and mould to one another. Those soft and tender touches that seem so pure and innocent yet still manage to reach your very core. The feel of her in his arms and her body pressed tightly against him; her skin silky and warm and smelling so damn good. He had never taken the time to appreciate those things before,  nor had he ever been with anyone that really allowed him to. The ex wife had ever been into the whole afterglow; intimacy purely sexual in her mind and pillow talk considered useless and boring. And he certainly never craved the quiet and loving aftermath with Nik or any of the women he’d hook up with while on the travelling and travelling from place to place. They were nothing but conquests; a chance to get his rocks off and rid himself of any lingering adrenaline or the last bits of frustration and anger.

Seven years ago everything changed. What should have been nothing BUT sex and two broken people using one another -and their bodies- as a coping mechanism for everything wrong in their lives, had quickly turned into something so much more. It had become apparent on the second night that he was in way over his head. When she’d fallen asleep on his arm -and turned his hand completely numb in the process- and he hadn’t had the heart to wake her hip. She’d looked so peaceful...so fucking beautiful...that instead of trying to slip away, he’d just rolled over onto his side and rapped his arm around her; burying his face in her hair and finding himself soothed by her scent and the softness of her  skin and the feel of her heart beating against him.  And while it should have terrified him -feeling things that strongly and that quickly- it hadn’t been enough to push him away or send him running.

“Tyler?”

He nuzzles the top of her head with his nose, then drops a kiss on it. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Why would I be? We fought, we made up. In the best possible way. All is right in the world. For now, anyway.”

“You haven’t said much.”

“I thought I talked a lot while we were...you know…”

“As much of a turn on as it is and how amazing sounds in your voice, dirty talk does not count as REAL talk.”

“Says who?”

“It’s in the rule book.”

“I already told you; I don’t like your rules. Fuck your rules.”

“No wonder you got sent to detention so much when you were a kid. An attitude like THAT,” she teases.

“You know what would be really hot?”

“I’m almost scared to find out. I know how warped your mind can be.”

“You remember those glasses you wore in Ireland? To go with your reporter cover?”

“Those were fake.”

“I don’t give a shit. You should totally get another pair.  And put your hair back; one of this really tight, formal looking buns. And wear a short skirt and heels and a low cut blouse.”

Esme snorts. “What the hell kind of teachers did you have growing up?”

“Not hot ones, that’s for sure. And you’re the one who told me that if you ever went back to school, it was to become a teacher. YOU  put that in my head. My brain and my hormones just took it from there.”

“There is something seriously wrong with you. You get weirder as you get older, I swear.”

“Maybe.” He moves his hand from her hip to her stomach, pulling her even tighter against him. “But you love me.”

“I do,” she confirms. “Although some days, I really want to throat punch you.”

“No throat punching. And you wonder where your daughter gets that shit from.”

“Because it’s definitely not from her father who technically beats the shit out of people for a living.  And she definitely doesn’t have your temper.”

“Nice of you to finally take the blame for her.”

“You’re a dick!” she declares, and directs an elbow to his stomach.  And he chuckles into her hair and removes the arm from her pillow and wraps it around her neck; palm resting above her left breast.  “You’re lying on your bad shoulder,” she points out.

“It’s fine.”

“It won’t be in about ten minutes when it seizes up and you can’t move it at all.”

“Stop giving me a hard time. I’m the one giving you a hard time, remember?” He grins as he presses his groin against her ass.

“I seriously wonder why the hell I’ve put up with you for so long,” she grumbles, then plants her elbow into his chest and shows him onto his back. “You're stubborn and you're chaotic and you’re absolutely fucking exhausting.”

“What are you bitching about? Those are all my best qualities.”

“I can think of better ones. Ones that don’t make me want to strangle you. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t actually enjoy your stubborn moments and your chaotic tendencies and the way you exhaust me.”

She rolls over onto her stomach and presses a kiss to his lips. Both of his arms wrapping around her as she nestles her face into his right trap; tip of her nose against his neck and her breath warm against his skin. And for several minutes neither of them speak; their eyes closed and one of her hands repeatedly brushing through his hair and the fingers of the other lightly drifting back and forth along his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I called you crazy.”

Tyler’s eyes snap open. “What?”

“When we were fighting. I called you crazy. Or suggested you were. I said that you’d finally snapped and went totally nuts. And I should NOT have said that. IT was way off base.”

He can’t help but chuckle. “Are you being serious right now?”

She raises her head to look at him, chin resting on his shoulder. “You have a legit mental illness. You have three of them, actually. And I totally preyed on it and I’m a shitty person for doing it. I never should have said what I did.”

“Baby, you’re kidding, right? You’re not really serious about this, are you?”

“I am.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “I never should have said it. I’m sorry. I know you’re not crazy. I know you can’t help being the way you are. That your brain just doesn’t it own thing and you’re trying to get it under control and you’re constantly fighting and trying to get better and…”

“Okay, you know what? Now you’re the one being crazy. You think it bothered me? That I haven’t heard worse? Or thought worse about myself? I call you crazy all the time when you say something I think sounds nuts. It’s a figure of speech; doesn’t mean I actually think you’re crazy.”

“I still shouldn’t have said it. I’m sorry.”

“You are really fucking hormonal.”  He removes one of his arms from around her and uses gentle fingertips to brush the wayward tears from her cheeks and under her eyes. “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s the worst it’s ever been,” Esme laments. “I mean, I always get hormonal and irrational but never this bad or this soon. Oh God...what if it’s triplets?”

“Jesus fuck. Don’t say that.”

“You’re the one that always goes on and on about your super sperm. Maybe all this time you’ve been right; maybe it’s actually insanely super. And it would explain it, right? Why it’s this bad and why it’s happening so early. More than or two would make me extra hormonal and extra irrational and…”

“When we get back home, we’ll call the doctor and we’ll get you and little bean checked out.  I’m no professional, but I’m pretty sure there’s not three in there. I’m good, but I’m not THAT good.”

“Twins, maybe. I mean, we have a history. It’s happened to other people; two sets of twins.”

“How about you stop wishing multiples on me and just pretend we know for sure it IS just one.”

“What if it is more than one? What if it is twins again? You know how hard it was the first time carrying two made from someone the size of you. I don’t know if I can handle that again. Because things went wrong so quickly and Tanner was so sick and we didn’t think he’d even make it.”

“But he did. He DID make it. And now look at him; he’s the healthiest out of them all.”

“And the smallest.”

“Well I think Addie has that title and probably always will. And who cares if they’re small? You’re small. They take after their momma.”

“I don’t know;  Tanner is ALL you.”

“How you figure?”

“He is so much like you. He has all these feelings and emotions inside of him and he’s so sensitive. But he isn’t afraid to just let it all out; he’s just totally out there with it. He’s just so open and so honest and just so innocent about it.”

“He’s also only five,” Tyler points out.

“You keep everything inside. And I know how deeply and powerfully you feel. How big of a heart you have.  How sensitive you can be. You just bury it deep down for the most part. You always act so embarrassed when you catch yourself with the ‘feel’ or when you think you’re showing too much emotion.”

“That’s what happens when you get that side beaten out of you for years, I guess.”

“Tanner is the kid you could have been had none of that ever happened to you.”

“Maybe. Who knows,” Tyler shrugs. “If none of that happened...losing my mom...having to put up with my dad...there’s a chance we wouldn’t have happened either. I’m pretty sure going through what I did with the old man is what pushed me towards the military in the first place. And if I’d never gotten into the military, I probably would have never gotten into the job, either. If it wasn’t for the job, we never would have met and none of those kids would exist. And they’re awesome  fucking kids.”

Esme smiles. “They are. They’re incredible and they’re beautiful and they’re a mix of everything that’s perfect and right inside me and you. We did good, didn’t we.”

“We did better than good. We did amazing.”  He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Not bad for two people that were so messed up seven years ago.”

“Remember what Gaspar said to you? About how two broken people can’t  fix one another? That they just end up making things worse?

Tyler nods.

“I think we’ve pretty much proved him wrong. We didn’t destroy each other like he said he would. And we definitely didn’t make things worse. I know we’re not perfect; not by a long shot. And we’ve gone through some pretty shitty times; including times we didn’t think we’d make it. But we’ve put the work in.  We work at being better;  for ourselves AND each other. Shows you how completely full of shit he was.”

“I could have told you that before he even opened his mouth.”

“I still don’t get how the hell you two were even friends. He exemplified the worst of the worst when it comes to mercs. Even back then...with all your issues...you were so far from being like him.”

“In my defence, whenever I WAS around him, I was pretty drunk. So I wasn’t exactly the best judge of character.”

“I was completely sober and I was a great judge of character,” Esme proudly declares.

“You think so, do you?”

“I let you in my pants, didn’t I?”

He smirks. “A lot of people who know me would probably argue that showed you failed HUGE at judging my character.”

“Well they’d be wrong. Maybe none of them have ever seen what I have. Maybe they don’t take the time to look for it. There was something different about you; I could see it, in your eyes. Yeah, you were tough and hardened and totally badass, but I still saw it; whenever you looked at me. I even heard it in your voice. When we used to have those talks in the middle of the night after we...you know…”

“Fucked each other senseless?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. Even the first night I saw it. You were looking at me when I was telling you about Mark and his bullshit and you reached up and you pushed my hair out of my eyes and behind my ears and you were so gentle about it. It was so simple, yet it took my breath away. I remember that moment like it was yesterday. It was the last thing I ever expected from you; being like that.”

“Probably because an hour before, I had my hand around your throat.”

“Well that didn’t hurt, but it was more than that. I go into a job where I have to pretend to be married to a mercenary. And not just any mercenary, but one who was practically a legend; I’d heard all the stories and all the rumours and you ended up being completely different than I thought you would. And you go from being hard core and aggressive to having this quiet, soft, sweet side to you. That is the last thing I expected. And then to hear it in your  voice and see it in your eyes; this vulnerability and this brokenness. It was sad but it was beautiful all at the same time.”

Tyler frowns. “Have you been drinking?”

“Don’t be such an ass! I’m trying to be sweet and loving with you, goddamn it! Don’t ruin it!”

“I’m sorry,” he laughs, and loops her hair behind one ear, then the other. “You’re right; I do get embarrassed by this stuff.”

“Why? It’s not like we’re strangers. It’s not like we haven’t spent seven years sharing cooties.”

“Oh I think we’ve been sharing  A LOT more than that.”

“Of all the people you shouldn’t be embarrassed around, I’m at the top of the list. So…” she climbs on top of him places a knee on either side of his torso, then leans down to peck his lips. “...stop your bullshit. You’re exhausting me.”

Reaching up, he pushes her his hands through her hair; fingers combing through the dark, silky tresses and pushing them over her shoulders. “If it was that easy of a fix…”  he skims his palms over her shoulders and down her arms. “...I would have fixed it a long time ago.”

“Well you ARE getting better at it,” she admits. “Maybe on our fiftieth anniversary you’ll be fully over it and surprise me!”

“Bold of you to assume  I’m still going to be alive.”

“We got married when you were thirty five. You’ll only be eighty five then.”

“Exactly. Eighty five. You really think I’m going to make it that far?”

“I do. For the simple fact I won’t let you die.”

“Funny how you think you have control over it.”

“I might not have control over it, but I am optimistic that you’ll make it that long. Even longer, actually. If you can survive everything you have in the past forty two years…”

“Forty one. I haven’t reached forty two years. What the fuck?”

“Your birthday is only three months away,” Esme reminds him.

“Okay, so I’m forty one and three quarters.”

She sighs in exasperation. “Fine. If you can survive everything you’ve gone through in the last forty one and three quarter years, there is no way you’re NOT dying an old man, warm in his bed. If anyone deserves that, it’s you. If you can get shot in the neck and still get off that bridge alive? Your chances of making it to eighty five are very good.”

“You’re forgetting I got very fucking lucky; someone was on that bridge that actually give a shit about me and wanted me to live.”

“I only played a small part,” she says, and her fingers move to the side of his neck; gliding over the tattoo that graces his skin and the scar left behind from Farhad’s bullet.

“A small part? You stuck your fingers in my neck to stop me from bleeding out. That’s more than just a small part.”

“We’re not going to talk about that, okay? That part of it.”  Her voice trembles with emotion. “I don’t want to talk about that part.”

“You don’t have to, baby. Come here…” he lays a hand on the back of her head, drawing her down onto his chest. “...it’s okay…” he places his lips against her temple, the fingers of one hand gently massaging her scalp, the other drifting up and down her spine. “...you don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry I brought it up. I know better than that.”

“It’s not your fault I can’t get over it.  That my brain is messed up because of it.”

“Actually, it kind of IS my fault. Considering…”

“It isn’t your fault,” Esme insists, and wraps both arms around his neck. “I’ve never blamed you. It’s just happened. IT was a horrible fucking mess and that stupid fucking Farhad. You should have killed him that night in the alley. You should have just done it. I wouldn’t have held it against you if you did.”

“Okay, first of all? He was a kid.”

“A kid that nearly killed you. So I’m sorry if I have no sympathy for him. He was a little bastard and you should have just done away with him. And if he’s still out there, I almost hope we run into him in Dhaka. Because I'll kill him if you won’t.”

“Alright, you need to settle down. Don’t get so worked up over this shit.  Let’s NOT talk about this at all. For the next however many days, let’s not mention that place at all. Deal?”

“Deal.  But I swear to God if I see him…”

“What did we just agree on?”

“Sorry,” she mutters against the hollow of his throat. “I get worked up.”

He grins. “Just a little.”

“I’m just scared. About going back there. That’s the last place I ever thought I’d go back to.”

“Trust me; I’m not too excited about it either.”

“You know what would be funny though?” She pulls back to look at him. “If we ended up at the same hotel. In the same room. Maybe we should go there and ask for that room. For old time’s sake.”

“How about no?”

“It wasn’t THAT bad. You had a good time. A VERY good time.”

“I am pretty sure that had nothing to do with the actual hotel or the actual room and everything to do with who  I was there with.”

“Maybe they fixed the toilet sometime in the last seven years!”

He chuckles. “Maybe.”

“And maybe someone over five foot five can actually take a proper shower. That was the weirdest thing; you couldn’t take a bath comfortably because you’re too tall and your legs are too long, but you had to sit in the tub to take a shower.”

“I’ll let you have this moment. But only because I’ve spent years making fun of your height. Or lack of it.”

“You were such a good sport about it, though. You let me wash your hair.”

“Honestly? That was the first time I ever had someone do it.”

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

“You were totally having the feels for me weren’t you. And I’m not talking about the feels below the waist; those were more than obvious. I’m talking about legit feels. You were having legit feels for me.”

“I was,” Tyler admits. “And it was fucking terrifying.”

“Not terrifying enough to walk away though. Or to back away, I should say.”

“There was no way in hell I was backing away. I spent years feeling dead inside...years where I just wanted to die...and all of sudden I’m feeling more than that? Something BETTER than that? No way in hell was I backing away.”

“I knew it,” she grins. “I knew you had the warm and fuzzies for me.”

“Holy shit,” he laughs. “So THAT’S where Tanner got in from.”

“He asked me how it feels when you like someone. How it felt when I met you. So  told him that you made my heart feel warm and fuzzy and he just took it from there. Did you ask you the same thing?”

“He asked if I got the warm and fuzzies when I met you.”

“Did you?”  She scrapes the knuckles on both hands against his beard. “Did you get the warm and fuzzies?”

“From the waist down? Yes. I totally got the warm and fuzzies for you.”

“Please! You did NOT get a hard on the second you saw me on your front porch.”

“The hell I didn’t. There was a hot girl at my place, all tatted and pierced up and looking totally unlike anyone that ever graced my door stop. Damn right I got one.”

“I would have noticed if you were pitching a tent.”

“I was wearing baggy shorts.”

“Baby, you are phenomenally blessed in that area. There’s no shorts baggy enough to hide when you’re excited. So nice try. I appreciate you attempting to build up my ego, but you did NOT get a hard on when you first saw me.”

“Okay, so maybe not a full one, but there were some feelings down there. Especially when I saw you had a tongue ring.”

“Please tell me that’s NOT what you told Tanner when he  asked about the warm and fuzzies.”

“I did not tell our five old son that his mom  made me horny when I first met her, no. I did tell him that I liked how you smiled at me. That you had a beautiful smile and it made me feel kind of warm and fuzzy.”

“I knew it!” You’ve been denying it for seven years. You had a thing for me right off the hop.”

“I so did. Lust at first sight.”

“You had a weird way of showing it. You weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy to me when we first got to Dhaka.”

“That’s ‘cause you pissed me off. Really pissed me off.”

“I wasn’t listening to your stupid rules. I’m a strong, independent woman. I do what I want.”

“Yeah, and if someone had grabbed you in the market? Who do you think would have had to bust his ass to rescue yours? I should have known right away you were trouble. As soon as you didn’t listen to me the first time. Now I’m seven years in and you still don’t listen to a thing I say.”

“It’s not that I don’t listen to you. Just sometimes I think it’s bullshit and I ignore it.”

He smirks. “I knew you were trouble. The second you downed those two drinks in my kitchen.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s probably what turned you on even more.”

“I’m not going to admit or deny that.”

“You don’t have to. I have my own lie detector test. In the same way you do.”

“Yeah?”  He rubs his palms up and down her thighs.  “How does it work?”

“I can give you a tutorial,” she offers.

“I bet you can.”

“It starts very simple…”  She pecks his lips, followed by the corner of his mouth and then along the side of his jaw. “...see, I know all of your weak spots. All those little places that drive you crazy. For example, this…” she drags the tip of her tongue along the outer edge of his ear. “...always gets things going. I know it drives you insane. In a good way. Just like I know doing this…” she bites down lightly on the lobe and then nibbles her away down the side of his neck. “...mixed with this…” she scrapes her nails down his chest, applying pressure against one nipple. “...really gets you going.”

“You’re evil, you know that? Really fucking evil.”

“You’re not the only one who’s good at teasing.  Or did you forget that?”

“Oh I didn’t forget. I know how good you are at it. Seven years, remember?”

His hands push their way into her hair; dark tresses slipping through his fingers as she slides her body down his. Her mouth placing hot, moist kisses along his collarbone and over each peck; a low growl and then a hiss tumbling from his mouth when she first bathes each nipple with her tongue and then scrapes her teeth against them. Breath coming in ragged, uncontrolled pants as she licks, sucks, and kisses her way across the one side of his ribs, then the other; fingernails gouging the skin as her mouth moves even lower. Tracing the ridges of well defined abs and the cut of his hips,  the wiry hair that surrounds his navel and travels lower surprisingly soft against her lips, tickling her tongue as she follows its downward path.

She’s always been amazing at this; from the slow build up and the torture that causes his body to lock up and his breath to quicken, the actual act itself. As so willing and eager; offering or taking it upon herself to just do it instead of having to be asked. A far cry from any of the previous relationships he’d been in.

“Jesus...fuck…” he manages through gritted teeth when she sucks and nibbles at his inner thigh and her fingertips drift along the side of his cock. He hates being on the receiving end of this kind of torture; the only time he possesses little to no patience. Yet it’s a game to her. Payback, in a way. For all the times he’s had the nerve to do it to her; the smart grin that takes over his face while he ignores the begging and pleading and allows his mouth and his hands to wander her entire body while purposefully ignoring where she so desperately wants them.

“What’s wrong?”

His eyes open at the sound of her voice; unaware that he’d even closed them, or that his body had been drawn so tight it’s almost painful. And when he looks down, her mouth is hovering at the juncture between hip and thigh; a devilish curve to her lips and a mischievous glitter in her eyes.

“Are you desperate Tyler?” Her eyes never leave his; her mouth moist and warm as it presses soft yet excruciating kisses along the top of his thigh. “...you seem pretty desperate. I know how hard it is for you; giving up control like this.”

“I’m not giving up shit. Just…”  he bites down on his bottom lip and his eyes close once more as she sucks and nibbles her way across his pubic bone; one of her nails lightly scraping along the underside of his cock. Already painfully hard; tip leaking pre cum. “...you’re bad.”

“You like it,” she says, as he palms cradles his erection. Pads of her fingers replacing the nails and repeatedly brushing against the sides; methodically tracing and exploring every vein, ridge, and indent. “...if you didn’t it, you wouldn’t be letting me do this…”  her hand tightens around his rock hard length,

One hand grabs the sheets beneath him while the other shoves its way into her hair.

“Entirely or…?”

“No. Not fucking entirely. Just…”  His hips arch off the bed when she drags the tip of her tongue along the top of his cock. Starting at the tip and ending at the base; aggressively suckling and nibbling while her hand tightens around him. The pressure of her thumb firm as it repeatedly passes over the head.  “...if you’re just going fucking play with me like this, just stop.”

“This is karma. For all the times you’ve made ME wait. All those times you got off making me beg and plead for it. And let’s be realistic…” her one hand continues to slowly and gently manipulate his cock while the other moves from his hip to his ball; first cradling and then rhythmically squeezing.  “...if you really wanted me to stop, you’d make me. You have more than  a hundred pounds on me. And more than a foot in height. You’re more than capable of getting your control back.”

“Don’t tempt me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You would never hurt me. At least not intentionally.”  

Her mouth moves to his other thigh; lips sucking and teeth biting down hard enough to mark the flesh. And when he feels her warm breath against him as her mouth lingers over the top of his cock, he sees that pleased glint in her eyes and that and that victorious grin on her face and he finally snaps. Roughly snatching her by the hair; twisting it around his fist as he yanks her up towards him. His lips aggressive and needy against hers’ tongue hungrily and savagely pushing through her teeth as he flips her over onto her back.

“You must be feeling pretty generous tonight,” Esme chides. “Giving up THAT?”

“Maybe I’d rather just fuck you.”

“You ARE getting back to normal,” she grins, and raises her head in order to lick a path that starts in the middle of his collarbone and travels   over his throat, along the underside of his chin, and up onto his lips. Capturing the bottom one between her teeth. “Your stamina is almost where it was before.”

“Almost? This will be the third time tonight.”

“You make that sound like a complaint. If you can’t cope with my wants and my needs…”

“I’ve been coping with them for almost seven years. I think I’ll be okay.”

He drops his head down to kiss her; long and deep and just as hungry and desperate as before. Shivering when her nails scrape down his ribs and over his hips. And he feels her body tense and then shudder  when he hastily pushes into her, giving her body a chance to adjust to the sudden intrusion before pulling out and sinking back in even harder and deeper than before. It’s a break from their usual; slow and even thrusts and the exchange of soft, short kisses followed by longer and more needy ones.  Her hands attentively exploring the muscles in his shoulders and back; fingers light and feathery when they travel over every bulge, ripple, and intent that exist in his arms.

“You’re so beautiful…” he breathes, a hand moving to the side of her face, cupping it gently; thumb brushing against the skin under her eye. “...you’re so beautiful and I love you so much.”

“Don’t talk like that,” she pleads. “Don’t say things like that while you have that look in your eyes. I know what you’re thinking. And that’s not going to happen; it’s never going to happen.”

He attempts a confident, reassuring smile and then kisses her. Long and soft and sweet at first, then much more intense. Feeling her legs wrap around his waist and her ankles lock together at the small of his back. And he closes his eyes and rests his forehead against her as he continues to move inside of her. Taking in every little whimper, moan and sigh and the press of her feet against his tailbone and the feel of her nails scraping his shoulders and back.

Attempting to commit all of it to memory. Just in case.

*****

He wakes to Addie’s shrill and incessant crying coming from the nursery across the hall. Eyes immediately snapping open and his body initially tensing. It’s a cry unlike anything he’s ever heard from her before. She’s always been a fairly quiet and agreeable baby; even in the midst of a ‘meltdown’ -when food isn’t coming as quick as she thinks it should- she never sounds like THAT. It’s louder and higher than normal; no longer the cry that almost resembles a kitten that’s been separated too soon from its mother. He tries not to feel panicked; it could be a number of things. A stomach ache, a wet diaper that she’s been in for far too long and has become unbearable, or she’s somehow managed to kick and squirm her way out of her tight swaddling.

Running his hands over his weary face, he sits up; left hand reaching for his right shoulder and his fingers pressing deep and massaging firmly in a vain attempt to rid himself of both pain and stiffness. Esme doesn’t even budge beside him; blankets pulled up to her ears and her hair falling over her face, oblivious to both the commotion across the hall and his movements beside her.

He groans as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands; a hand on the small of his back and a grimace on his face as he hobbles towards the pair of sweats that had long been discarded near the balcony door.  Climbing into them and pulling them over his hips and his ass as he heads for the door.

The first thing he notices is how quiet it is in the upstairs hallway. Not even the slightest bit of sound -aside from what Addie is making - trickling out from all the other rooms. Normally he hears something; music or talking coming from one of the kids’ tablets after they’d fallen asleep watching them, the dogs rustling around or snoring from their usual resting place on top of Millie’s bed, or one of the nannies moving inside their room as they prepare to tend to the baby.

The second is the sudden change in temperature when he gets to the nursery; the air coming from under the door drastically cooler than out in the hallway. And it makes him scowl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end; briefly pausing -waiting and listening- with his fingers curled around the door handle. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to   hear, but his gut...his instincts...tell him that something isn’t quite right. Yet his brain is able to pin down just what it could be.

Addie has quieted down by the time he steps into the room; her crying now soft whimpers and gasps for air and a tiny fist shoved in her mouth. And as he makes his way towards the crib, his eyes do a thorough search of the room; it’s a large, open space and the closet door is close and there’s no possible place for anyone to hide. The window is wide open; the strong breeze violently rustling and flapping the curtains and filling the room with shockingly crisp air.

“It’s alright now,” he speaks calmly to Addie as he steps beside the crib.  She’s managed to get herself out of her swaddling and her body is cold to the touch; likely woken up by the chill in the air and the sound of the curtains being tossed and shaken. “It’s okay…” he places a kiss to the side of her head as he scoops her up, using one hand to press her against his chest while the other snags the receiving blanket from the crib and drapes it over her. “It’s alright, little peanut. Daddy’s got you.”

She’s comforted by the warmth of his body and the sound of his voice, and he keeps her tightly and protectively against him as he moves to the window; sliding it down and securely the latch. Pausing before stepping away; pulling back the curtains and peering out into the dark.

“What’s going on?” Esme asks, lifting her head from her pillow when he returns. “Everything okay?”

“Did you leave the window in the nursery open?”

She pushes her hair out of her eyes and looks at him quizzically. “What?”

“The window. In the nursery. Did you leave it open when you put Addie to bed?”

“No. It was already closed. I just left it that way. Why?”

“It was wide open.” He slides into bed; leaning back against the headboard, baby finally calm against him.  “Are you sure it was closed?”

“I would have noticed if the window was open; it’s been crazy windy all evening.” She reaches up to run a hand over Addie’s hair, then down her arm. “Oh my god, she’s freezing! What the hell?”

“She woke up because she was cold. The window was wide open. It was fucking freezing in there.”

“Here, ” Esme sits up and reaches for the extra blanket spread across the end of the bed, draping over the front of his body and tucking it tightly around Addie. “Daddy’s got you,” she presses a kiss to her daughter’s temple. “You’re okay now, bubby. You’ll warm up quickly. Daddy’s like a furnace. Except for his feet; those are always cold.”  She places a hand on Addie’s back and rests her head against Tyler’s shoulder. “Maybe one of the nannies opened it. The window. Maybe they went in to check on her and they thought it felt hot in there so they opened it. Then forgot to go back in and close it.”

“Maybe. That’s pretty fucking stupid though, isn’t it?”

“People make mistakes, Tyler. She’ll be okay. She just needs to warm up. Maybe she’ll take something to eat; that might make her feel better.”  She peels the blanket back and gently removes Addie from his arms, then stretches out on her side; baby on the mattress facing her, eagerly latching onto the breast when it's offered.

“Always hungry,” Esme muses, and combs her fingers through Addie’s hair. “Maybe you do have some of your daddy in you, after all. He’s always eating. You’ll be okay, little bubby. You’ll warm up and you’ll have a full tummy and then you’ll feel better. Good thing you woke daddy, huh? He hasn’t been a sound sleeper in a long time.”

Tyler stretches out on his side as well, facing the two of them. And he runs a hand over his wife’s hair and then his daughter’s before sliding closer to them; effectively shielding Addie’s tiny body with his own. His arm arm resting lightly on top of her as he places a protective hand on the small of Esme’s back.

He won’t be sleeping any time soon.

[crimsonbluemoon]

Terrornuckle/ Terrormoo (did we change the shipname?) 18, 1, 26

Okay, I went way too hard on this one. I always do that with this couple, damn >.>

AU: Celebrity Trope: Friends to loversPrompt: “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.”

Pairing: Terrormoo

“Where are you going this time?” Brian always enjoyed the limo ride to the private plane Brock owned. It was one of the only times that he got his friend alone, really. When he was working, he couldn’t be distracted and would lock himself in his home for days at a time. Brian didn’t blame him for it; being the writer of the biggest novel series in the world meant that he needed to nurture time for his craft. When he wasn’t writing his amazing stories, he was being carted away by Marcel, his manager, to different parts of the world for interviews and book signings. One day he’d be in their city, and the next he’d be in Hong Kong. 

“It’s a small tour, so I’ll just be doing an interview with Ellen, a book meeting with my company in Los Angeles, and then a Q and A at a convention in San Francisco. I should be back before Wednesday.” Brian remembered a time when Brock hated flying. The loudness of the plane, the turbulence, the fear of falling before completing his dreams in life- Brock had told Brian them all one drunk night three years ago. Back at the time, Brock had only just picked up some steam, and had been asked to come to a small bookstore in Atlanta to meet some fans. They met as neighbors four years before, their apartments both sharing terrible heating and thin walls. That was when Brock’s greatness was still hidden. Two months later, the world would be exposed to Brock’s beautiful smile. 

That had been before.

“It’s okay if you can’t make it,” Brian answered, trying to keep his grin wide to hide his own feelings. Brock always worried his lip too much when he thought Brian was upset, which then would get him scolded by Marcel and the make up artist he’d have to deal with for Ellen. Brock once told him he hated that part about his TV appearances the most. Brian remembered the first time Brock  had pursed his lips out for Brian to coat with lipstick left over from his high school theater make-up. How his eyes had popped out after the eyeliner guarded his lids like a coat of armor. How Brock’s eyelashes looked so long with mascara. Brock hadn’t needed blush; he’d turned a pretty shade of red when Brian had told him how beautiful he was. 

But that had been before. 

“It’s your birthday. I won’t miss it.” Again hung so heavy in the air between them, Brian was sure he’d choke on it. He glanced out the limo’s window with a chuckle he hoped wouldn’t be wet with the sadness he held back. Last year had been…a rough time for them. Brock’s busy schedule pushed Brian away, and the conflicting feelings of jealousy and sadness waged war in Brian’s heart, making him curl away from Brock’s friendly affection when he did have time. Because Brian didn’t want friendly; it took a month long absence of Brock’s presence by his side for him to realize it. 

His birthday had been shared with friends and family, with pretty girls and lots of booze. Brock was in Madrid, promoting his new book. There were no ‘after birthday pancakes’ the next morning, no horribly burnt bacon (six years and Brock still couldn’t make it right) and embarrassingly (but endearing) off-key singing. There was a nameless stranger in his cold bed and shameful hickies on his neck, which would have been signs of a successful birthday years prior. 

  But that was before. 

“I’m not saving you a piece of cake if you’re late,” Brian said instead of any of the words that rattled in his heart. Brock rolled his eyes, his shoulder bumping gently into Brian’s. He didn’t pull away, and Brian stayed quiet about it. 

“I’ll buy a whole customized sheet cake from that fancy bakery you liked in California and bring it back with me.” 

“You wouldn’t, you hate showing you’re rich unless it’s for charity,” Brian answered quickly, their eyes meeting at the challenge.

“Or if it’s for you,” Brock’s soft reply twisted something fierce in Brian’s stomach, his fingers digging into his pant leg to keep from pulling Brock into a kiss. Because he knew it was the truth; Brock always spoiled Brian. He did the same for his other friends, sure, but Evan and Tyler never let Brian forget how ‘special’ he was. 

Brock moved him into a house right next to Brock’s that Brian could never afford, and always made sure his needs were taken care of. Brock took Brian on some of his longer trips to Venice or Palm Springs, which Brian loved. But it had been just seven months ago when he had first discovered Proof Bakery in California. It was his favorite place, though not for the pastries like Brock always assumed. The little shop, which was way overpriced and the lines far too long, was where Brian first realized just how in love with Brock he was. The moment would always be sketched into his mind; the whipped cream that had crept over Brock’s nose from his frothy drink, the shy smile, the soft way his voice caressed the tail end of Brian’s name, and the sunlight that illuminated just how breathtaking all of it was put together. 

He’d nearly confessed right there, if not for the fact that cameras and paparazzi were hanging on every word they said. Their picture had been splattered on several tabloid magazines, with questions of their ‘relationship’ hounding both men for weeks. Brian had been avoidant of the question, waiting for Brock to bring it up. He never did, not to Brian, though he always spoke about his ‘good friend’ on TV shows and red carpet interviews. It’d been a knife in Brian’s heart. Because once, Brian had hoped the soft glimmer in Brock’s eyes at the bakery had been love for him. 

But that was before, too.

“Evan’s gonna get jealous, then Scotty will whine, and you’ll have to do it for everyone. With all the friends you have, you’ll actually put a dent in your wallet.” Brian doused any increased heartbeat he had by reminding himself how dedicated Brock was to making all his friends happy. Hurting himself more, he patted Brock’s thigh, not letting himself enjoy the muscle under his palm before pointing out the window. “Look, got here in record time. Almost time for you to head out.” 

“Oh, right.” Brock’s voice hid something that Brian missed looking out the window, but by the time he glanced back, it was gone. He quirked an eyebrow, knowing he was grinning like a fool after Brock’s cheeks turned pink. 

“You don’t sound to excited to get on your plane, mister. What, you gonna miss this beautiful face?” He forced himself to wink and blow a kiss at Brock, expecting the normal eye roll or scolding curve to his name that always made him feel special. 

“What if I will?” So the open heartbeak that cracked Brock’s eyes made Brian pause, frozen by the look he never wanted to see. 

“Brock, what… you know you can call m-us.” Desperate to get rid of the look on his friend, Brian leaned closer, ignoring his own rules of touch to cradle Brock’s face in his palms. “Video chat, anytime. Day or night, I don’t care. If you miss me- or any of the guys, that’s okay. We’ll miss you, too. We always do.” 

“We, or you?” The distinction seemed important to Brock, but Brian’s tongue was too tied up in emotion to give a response. Sighing, Brock closed his eyes, letting his shoulders fall in defeat. “Sometimes…sometimes, I sit in bed and wonder…. what would happen if things were different?”

“Different? Different how?” Brian asked, unsure if his heart could stay contained in his chest at the soft nuzzle of Brock’s nose against his fingers. 

“If I’d told you how having you come on the ride with me in the limo to the airport always helps me feel safe before leaving. If I said how much you saved me from my fears of flying by giving me all those helpful tricks. If I’d admitted you were the first person to make me feel beautiful that night with the make-up. Or, if I’d…if I’d been the one you’d taken to bed the night of your birthday last year, not that girl.” Soft flesh trembled against Brian’s thumb when he brushed it over Brock’s mouth, feeling the words from his own heart spill through Brock’s lips. “Would this be different, if I’d told all those TV hosts or interviewers the truth.”

“What’s the truth?” He was breathless from a marathon only his heart was running, eyes desperate for Brock’s pretty gaze when it finally opened to him again. 

“That I’m head over heels in love with you. Would that make any of this different between us?” He was so vulnerable, splaying himself out in front of Brian with his heart in his hands. It was rare to see someone with Brock’s power, money, status in the world with such an open soul. But this moment, this little piece of Brock now shining bright in the back of the limo, this wasn’t for the world to see. This was Brian’s, if Brian would take it, and nobody else’s. 

“Yeah, that makes a difference alright.” Brian leaned forward slowly, making sure Brock felt every indent and inch of his lips when kissing him. The kiss was slow, longing, full of each negative and positive emotion Brian had ever felt for Brock. He took his time pouring himself over Brock, teasing the crevices and dips of the mouth he’d been sure he’d only taste in his dreams. Brock was a willing participant, once his mind seemed to kick back on. Lust and need simmered just under the overwhelming love he had for Brock, and after fully divulging the months of realized emotion into their kiss, he pulled back. Not far, as his next words were whispered softly against bruised lips. “It’s going to make you late for your flight, love.” 

Usually, Brian hated saying goodbye to Brock after their limo trips, knowing it was another chance for him to find someone to settle down with on his adventures without Brian. Brock still left this time, Brian waving from the limo they’d destroyed with their love making. This time, Brian’s heart didn’t ache watching Brock disappear into the plane taking him away. There was no pain.

Because that was before; before Brian knew Brock loved him, too.

[dresupi]

The Man of My Dreams

For: @ibelieveinturtles​ Ship: Brock Rumlow/Darcy Lewis Sweetheart Prompt:  Heart Throb Word Count: 4,641 Rating: E Other tags: SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis, Dreams, Crushes, Bachelor Auction, Snark, Companionable Snark, Flirting, Smut, One Shot, POV Darcy Lewis, POV Brock Rumlow, POV Alternating

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DARCY

“So, like… I was having this dream, right?” Darcy began, reaching over to steal a chip from the bag Bobbi had in front of her. “Like, you know I don’t normally have dreams that make any kind of sense. Or that I even remember usually.”

“Right, yeah…” Bobbi nodded, snatching her chip bag out of Darcy’s reach. “But judging by your tone, this one was neither nonsense nor forgettable?”

“Correct,” Darcy said. “It was neither of those things. It was a…” She lowered her voice for the next part. “Sex dream.”

Her friend had no reaction. “So? I have those all the time. Me and Timothy Olyphant tear up the sheets on a regular basis. Sometimes Uma Thurman joins us.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t about a celebrity though. It was about someone I know.”

Bobbi’s eyebrow twitched an almost infinitesimal amount. “Someone you know?”

“Someone I see on a regular basis. Someone who comes into my office on the regular.”

“You’re about to say it’s me, and then we’re going to find out this has been some straight dude lesbian porno the whole time, aren’t we?”

“No,” Darcy sighed, kicking her under the table. “It’s Brock, you goober.” She’d meant to whisper that last bit. But it all came tumbling out without preamble. “It’s Brock, and I think… I think I’m having feelings.”

Bobbi’s jaw dropped, which was a helluva reaction to get from her assassin-friend. She also scooted the bag of chips back over for Darcy to reach. This was chip-sharing news. It was serious.

“You’re not. You can’t have feelings for Brock. You said it before. He’s hairy and icky.”

“I only tell him that in order to keep his ego in check. Do you know how impossible he’d be if he found out I thought he was attractive?”

Bobbi groaned. “Only too well.”

“Okay, so you know this obviously has to stay between us, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay, well…” Darcy chomped down on another chip.

“So you’ve got the full-on hots for Brock now?” Bobbi teased. “Not just an aesthetic appreciation for how long he spends in the gym?”

“I don’t care if he’s shredded like a bag of cheese at a Taco Bell, the most aesthetically pleasing thing about him is that fucking jawline.”

Bobbi inhaled sharply, nodding. “That jawline’s what shreds the cheese at Taco Bell.”

“Okay, so I thought the feelings I got after the dream would go away, but it’s been like two weeks, and they haven’t.”

“You want me to ask Hill to send you to Hawaii or something? You could get a suntan, forget about old whats-his-name. Find yourself a cabana boy. To mix your drinks and toss your salad.”

Darcy had to admit, the offer sounded tempting. But she was happy with what she was doing now. Which was training with Bobbi to become a better field agent and get sent out on more missions. She had the brain for hacking, but she needed the strength so SHIELD would actually send her out to do it. If she asked for a fluff assignment just because she was all gaga over a sex dream where Brock went down on her like it was his job, then well… she probably needed to reevaluate what she wanted out of this job.

There were far worse reasons to ask for a fluff assignment. Hot and horny for Agent Rumlow wasn’t one of them.

“Nah, I should be fine. I might need to go get a massage or something. I could be stressed. They say that sex dreams are never about sex, right? It’s about… something else I’m lacking.”

Bobbi stifled a laugh, but not very well since Darcy could very well hear it. “Yeah. Something you’re lacking.”

“Stop it,” Darcy grabbed the last chip. “I’m gonna book a massage, wanna come with?”

“You know I won’t say no to a spa day.”

“Didn’t say anything about a spa day.”

Bobbi shot her a look. “You’re just gonna get a massage and not get a wrap and a facial?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Darcy pulled out her phone to book appointments on the spa’s app. “Under the usual pseuds?”

“You know it.”

“So, uh… speaking of people upon which we have crushes…” Darcy said, dragging it out in a sing-song way that was annoying Bobbi. She reached for her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Just say it, you know you want to.”

“How many bachelor raffle tickets are you buying now that Lance is up for grabs?”

“Zero,” Bobbi said with a smirk.

“What?”  Darcy followed her out of the cafeteria. “What do you mean, zero? Are you guys over again?”

“Again. For good. Good riddance. I heard Simmons is selling a romantic picnic. I might go for that,” Bobbi said with a shrug.

“Oh? You and Simmons?”

Her friend smiled and mimed zipping her lips. “Nothing to talk about yet, so…”

“Fine, fine. I guess I’ll just languish away in the land of the unknown gossip.”

“Guess you’ll have to,” Bobbi replied, linking her arm with Darcy’s to hurry her up towards the parking garage.

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

RUMLOW

Rumlow knew he probably should have either made his presence known or somehow left the cafeteria before Darcy got started in on the meat of her story. But every time he started to move, his chair would squeak, and he knew she’d hear him. Then she’d turn around and be embarrassed. Because, by the time he figured out he should leave, she was already spilling to Morse about her sex dream. About him.

Did it make him a pig if he preened a little because of her dream? Her dream about him? He couldn’t imagine any man in his position could hear Lewis talk about her nocturnal fantasies and not square his shoulders a little. That didn’t make it okay and he knew it. Most men were not the type of person anyone should aspire to mimic. He probably shouldn’t be taking the easy way out and using them to gauge where he was on the dickhead meter.

He stayed stock-still like his years of training prepared him to do. His back was to the two of them, but he could see their reflections in the shiny mirrors placed all over the lunchroom. Probably due to some rule that served to make everyone a little less nervous. Ever since that whole Hydra incident, everyone had wanted eyes in the backs of their heads. Everyone had also given him dirty looks for an entire year after he’d come back to the organization. Even after he’d been outed as a triple agent, they still didn’t trust him.

It didn’t seem to matter if the logistics of him being a quadruple agent were close to nil. But he was digressing.

The task at hand was to wait until Lewis and Morse were finished with their discussion and keep both of them from seeing him folded into a table at the corner, trying to look smaller than he was and blend into the wall.

He was far from the only other person here. In fact, one could wonder why Lewis chose such a crowded room to talk about her little clandestine crush on him.

“So you’ve got the full-on hots for Brock now?” Morse teased.

Rumlow couldn’t see it, but he was fairly certain Lewis was rolling her eyes now. He would be.

They talked for a while longer before they left for a spa day. He had to say, he was relieved Lewis wouldn’t be transferring. He very much doubted a sex dream would account for a transferral across the country like that. Plus, SHIELD allowed inter-company relationships. As long as they were disclosed to HR.

What, did she not think he’d reciprocate? Did she really not know how much he’d give to have her return one of his heated glances? Just one?

He picked up his fork again, swirling it through the leftover mashed potatoes on his plate. Before he could do anything, he’d have to come clean to her. After years of lying to everyone he knew, being truthful was very important to him.

So he’d have to tell her the truth, then he could gloat all he wanted about Darcy liking his chiseled jaw. She liked it a lot, apparently. Even more than his abs. Which he kind of thought was one of his better features. But whatever. He wasn’t about to argue with a lady he found one-hundred-percent fuckable in every single way. Hell, he’d even call her pretty if she asked. How’s that for a supposed dickhead.

Yeah, that didn’t really change anything, now that he thought about it.

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

DARCY

Darcy was minding her own business while losing a staring contest with the vending machine because while she was indeed focused inward, it wasn’t on what snack she wanted. Because truth be told, she didn’t really want a snack at all.

Well, she did want a snack, but the snack she wanted was obnoxious and conceited and knew he was a snack and who wanted a snack that knew he was a snack, right?

He is not the snack you’re looking for… she thought, her mental-voice wavering and her mental hands shimmying. She’d make a good Jedi, dammit.

“Hey, you got a second?”

She turned, halfway through assuring the person standing behind her that she’d almost made her selection when she realized that wasn’t what they’d asked at all.

And besides, the snack she wasn’t looking for was behind her. Brock Rumlow and his should-be-illegal jawline were standing there, looking at once lickable and slappable in that confusing way he had.

Sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, I got a few. Whatcha need, Stallone?”

He smirked a kind of a half-cocked, half crooked sort of expression that made him even hotter. If that were possible. Which it apparently was. “Stallone’s looking pretty rough these days, can I choose another actor?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “You don’t get to pick ‘em, sorry bout it.”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen… I need to talk to you about something,” Brock began, lowering his voice in a way that both made Darcy have to lean forward, and also tickled her in places she wasn’t about to admit to being tickled by a voice.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning against the side of the vending machine.

“Look, I saw you in the cafeteria the other day… with Bobbi?”

Alarm flared immediately, her skin heating up and cooling just as quickly. “Oh?” Maybe he hadn’t heard it. Or at least hadn’t heard the whole entire thing.

Oh please Thor, let him not have heard the entire thing. Let the sound of air whistling between his ears have drowned it out or something… please?

“Yeah, I, uh… I should have told you I was sitting there, I’m sorry…” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head in a way that at least felt contrite.

“Sitting where?” Darcy asked, her voice sounding shrill and a touch panicky.

“Behind you. I couldn’t see you, so I didn’t even know it was you and what you were talking about until it was too late. I didn’t want to embarrass you so--”

“So you just sat there and listened? Dude!  Not cool!”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you had a good little laugh at my expense didn’t you?” Darcy asked, her tone icy and cold. “So funny how I’m all warm for you, isn’t it? Well, suck a dick, Rumlow! You’d only be so lucky.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Are you done? Because I wanted to have an adult conversation about this and--”

“And nothing. I am done. Do you know? Because it’s not a real crush. It’s just because of the dream. That’s it. It’s going to go away.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, sounding very much like he didn’t believe her.

But Darcy didn’t really care. Anything was better than having him make fun of her, or worse… having him ‘let her down easy’ or whatever it was he was trying to do.

“Yup. It’s gonna be gone by Valentine’s Day, I can guaran-damn-tee it.”

“By Valentine’s huh? You’d better go out and snap up a date then,” he sneered.

“Maybe I will! Hell, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna buy ten of those bachelor raffle tickets they’re selling around here. I”m gonna buy ‘em, hope and hope and cross my fingers, and if they call my name, I’m gonna hook up with a hottie. You know anyone who’s selling them?”

“I am,” he said smugly. “I’m one of the bachelors being raffled.”

“Awesome. Put me down for ten. I’ll Venmo the money to wherever.”

“They set up a fund. I’ll message you the information…” He pulled out his phone and swiped around until Darcy had a link in her DMs. She immediately sent the money, not looking up at him once. “Thanks. I’ll see you there,” he ventured.

Darcy chuckled. “Not if I see you first, Stallone.”

She wasn’t sure what that was, exactly.  But she was embarrassed and had just spent a thousand dollars on bachelor raffle tickets. Someone should take her debit card away when she was like this.

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

RUMLOW

The raffle took place the week before Valentine’s Day, and Rumlow had worn his formal wear, like he’d been instructed to.  He thought he looked pretty good. He’d even spent extra time on his hair.  Well, more time than usual, and that was saying something because he was not born with this volume naturally. It took work.

Raffle cards were drawn by Agent May. With her smirking face, she drew card after card. Some men, some women. Some were people he knew, some weren’t.

And one by one, the bachelors and bachelorettes were chosen, until there were only about five of them left.  Himself, Lance Hunter, Mack, May herself, and Simmons.

May drew the next raffle card, and her eyes widened, grinning as she read the name.

“Darcy Lewis.”

Rumlow’s stomach dropped down into his gut.  She’d said she wouldn’t choose him. That’s what she’d said.

So why was he so nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous.

Except he didn’t want to see her pick any of the others up here. He could see her picking Simmons just so Fitz wouldn’t have a conniption. Simmons wasn’t a threat per se.

If she picked Hunter, though.  Or Mack. Or May.

Rumlow’s stomach settled like a stone in his gut as he watched her make her way up from her seat to the stage to take her pick.

May was grinning between him and her like she was expecting something to happen. He was almost sorry to disappoint her. But it would also be fun to watch Darce subvert May’s expectations.

Darcy was looking between the five of them up here.  Rumlow subconsciously reached up to straighten his collar and someone catcalled. At him? He couldn’t be sure.

And when she opened her mouth to speak, he was dreading what she’d say.

“Agent Rumlow, I guess.”

His eyebrows raised in pure surprise, but he was the only one who seemed surprised.

“Certainly seemed to deliberate on that decision,” May teased and nodded in his direction. “C’mon, Rumlow. Tell her what she’s won.”

“I uh… I’ll take her out dancing and for a five-star dinner. I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he added at the end, to another round of catcalling. He wrinkled his nose. People were gross. “I mean it,” he added. “No sarcasm.”

Darcy tilted her head and held out her hand. Realizing belatedly that he was supposed to take it and vacate the stage, Rumlow stumbled a little as they left the stage and walked back behind the makeshift curtain they had up.

“I thought you weren’t going to pick me,” he said, smirking a little as Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Don’t make me regret my decision. You promised to be a gentleman.”

“On the date.”

“Fine, but no funny business or I’ll cancel the date. I don’t mind donating a thousand bucks to charity.”

“That you didn’t have to bother, I’d have taken you out for nothing.”

“Yeah, I know. But at least this way, you can’t make fun of me for falling for you.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he countered.

She shot him a look.

“I’d barely do that.”

“I’ll see you on Valentine’s, Rumlow.” She turned to leave.  “You’ve got my number.” It was a statement, not a question.

He did have it. And he’d have complained more about their short convo if he hadn’t gotten to watch her walk away. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a ruffled blouse.

Fuck, she was pretty.

There. He was getting better.

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

DARCY

Darcy shifted in her seat after Brock had pushed her chair in behind her.  The food was already ordered, she’d just come back from the bathroom to find out it had been served.

Prime rib and sweet pea risotto.

Hers was untouched, which… was kind of a given considering that even at his worst, Brock wasn’t an animal who would steal his date’s food. But his was untouched too, which meant he’d waited for her to return.

He’d just taken his seat and scooped up his fork and steak knife, holding them poised as he looked at her expectantly.

“You want me to say grace?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow expectantly. He was Catholic. Or he pretended well. He had that saint on the dashboard of his car. Why did she know that?

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not unless that’s your thing. I was just waiting for you. It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. “Yeah, it is.” Her voice sounded sour, but she wasn’t sure why.

The date was everything he’d promised it would be. And maybe that’s what was wrong. He was being a total gentleman. And this wasn’t what had attracted her to him. This weird Ken-doll approach to a romantic evening. Hell, she half expected him to have a hot pink Jeep Wrangler when he picked her up. Everything he did felt forced and plastic.

Dancing had been fun, but he had held her a respectable distance away, the only heat she felt was from his hands on her waist. He had this way of looking at her sometimes. The heat barely contained behind those dark eyes of his, and she felt like she was about to combust.

That look was gone. Or hidden, at the very least.

And now they were eating dinner. Well, they were about to, and he was waiting for her to start before he even so much as cut his steak? This was weird. Too weird. She didn’t like it.

“Eat when you want, dude. No skin off my nose,” she reached for her steak knife and began to slice through the prime rib.

It was good. It wasn’t like she was expecting aged prime rib to be bad or anything, but it was really good. She ate too much. But she still tried to eat some of the dessert. It was chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream and some kind of cherry cordial on top.  They lit it on fire before bringing it to the table.

And as she and Brock shared it, she caught his eye, their spoons clinked, and she saw an inkling of that heat she’d been missing. He was looking at her like he usually did, not like Date-Brock had been. “You wanna go back to my place?” she asked.

“Well, the date officially ends when I take you to your door,” he said warily.

“Okay, so the date ends and then my good friend Rumlow comes in for coffee at eleven at night for no reason other than I have coffee to make and he’s in the neighborhood? Sound good?”

She happened to know she was fresh out of coffee, so she really, really hoped he’d either settle for tea or realize this wasn’t actually coffee she was asking for.

He swallowed visibly, his throat bobbing before he nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

They left after he paid for the meal. He offered his arm after they put on their coats. She hung on with both hands and could feel his muscles flex even through his coat and suit jacket. The cab ride back to her place was kind of quiet, except for the occasional throat-clearing sound from their driver, who looked as if she was about ten minutes past ready to be home.

Darcy kind of knew how she felt. But for different reasons.

Brock joined her on the ride up to her apartment from the lobby, standing a respectable distance away from her in the elevator and pressing his hand against the doors to allow her to exit first.  They arrived at her front door and he held one hand out to kiss the back of hers. She gave him a sweet smile, thanked him for the lovely evening, and disappeared behind her door.

She counted to ten and opened it again. “Heya Brock, wanna come in for coffee?”

“Absolutely.”

She reached out to close her fingers around his tie and drag him back into the apartment after her.

Her heart was thrumming, beating hard and fast as she pulled him close enough for his lips to finally crash over hers. “I promise I wasn’t trying to do this tonight,” he whispered between kisses and shrugging out of their coats.

“Why not?” she asked, grinning against his lips when their teeth clacked once.

“Was trying to be polite,” he replied, kicking off his shoes and following her lips first into her apartment, never breaking the kiss even to talk.

She was working her fingers in his tie to loosen the knot when she spoke again. “I didn’t like Date-Brock, so I hope he’s gone for good.”

“Oh thank god, I didn’t like him either,” he murmured, following her towards the stairs. “Holy shit, your apartment has two floors?”

“Yes, I bought the one above me when it vacated. Now shush and stop being so polite, Rumlow.”

“Look, sweetheart, I’ll manhandle you if that’s what you want, but I ain’t ever gonna shush.”

“Ah, so you’re a screamer?” she teased, inhaling sharply when his hands fumbled at her back for her zipper, found it, and slid it deftly down her back.

She stepped away, her dress pooling around her feet as she stepped back up the stairs, turning at the last second because falling on her ass wasn’t the way she wanted this evening to go.

Maneuvering the stairs was kind of tricky, especially when Brock couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself.  He kept running his palm over her ass when she turned to climb up a few steps, popping the elastic in her black lace panties and saying shit in that raspy, sex-drunk voice of his.

“Fuck, honey, you look even better going than you do coming…”

Darcy arched her eyebrow at him. “You haven’t seen me coming yet, don’t get ahead of yourself…”

They were finally at the landing on her second floor. Brock laughed and she tugged him by his waistband into her bedroom.  She made quick work of the button and the zipper on his suit pants, and he slid out of them like he was made to do it, crawling up after her on the mattress.

Okay, so his abs were definitely something she’d write home about. Grammy Lewis would have some words about Mr. Brock Rumlow, and none of them were fit for children to hear.

Grammy Lewis wasn’t the mental image she really wanted in her head right now, so she laid back on the pillows and watched Brock’s muscles ripple as he moved above her.

She’d like to climb on top of him, but he never let her get that far, hovering over her and rutting against her hip while his lips did absolutely sinful things to hers. And then down the column of her throat. And then down over her collarbone and then…

He pushed one hand under her breast until the nipple just popped over the lacy edge of her bra. He licked it roughly, wetting the lace in the process and making it rasp over the sensitive peak. Her hands tangled in his hair and he grunted. Growled. Rocked his hips against her until she could feel the stiffness of his cock sliding against her mound.

“Fuck,” she whispered, yanking on his hair and causing him to release her breast.  His dark eyes searched hers and she reached down to shimmy out of her panties.

He followed suit, pushing his jockeys down over his hips and kicking them off.

Brock ran his fingers over her pussy, tucking two fingers inside and wriggling them in a very pleasing way. “Fuck me, you’re soaked…”

“I’m trying to fuck you,” she whispered, biting her lip when he pushed one of her legs up at the knee and lined himself up. He was thick, so he pushed in slowly, but when his hips met hers, Darcy gasped.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning her face.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just fuck me,” she commanded, reaching around to sink her nails into his ass cheeks, relishing the hiss that resulted.

He sat back and extended her leg up so her ankle rested on his shoulder and leaned forward again, his hips setting a grueling pace that rocked her so hard, she had to moan. She couldn’t not moan at this point.  One hand snaked between them to her other breast, to push it up out of the bra as well.  Once they were both out, they bounced, nipples brushing over lace and making her breath catch as his hips hammered into her.

Their skin slapped and the bed hit the wall, her headboard rattling in time with his hips. He was hitting that spot inside her, the one that made her toes curl and that she couldn’t reach herself unless she had some sort of toy. But this was… god it was so much better.

“Brock,” she hissed. “Please, please, babe… I’m--”

“Almost there?” He grinned and slid his hand down between them to thumb over her clit and push her right over the edge without hesitation.

He must have finished soon after because he was pulling out and ducking down between her thighs to flick his tongue over her clit and make her back arch.  His tongue dove down into her opening and when she realized what he was doing, it just made her clench her thighs all the more tightly around his head.

“Jesus, Brock…”

Her second orgasm wasn’t nearly as intense as the first, but she was shaking when he pushed up on his elbows and leaned his head against her bent knee.

“You want one more?” he asked, licking his lips in an obscene way that made her want to say yes, even if her clit couldn’t possibly do anything else without hurting.

“Maybe later,” she said with a sigh, falling back on the pillows as he crawled up beside her.

“You’re right, you know.”

“What?”

“You look better coming than going.”

She would have swatted him, but she had no energy, so she just rolled over and cuddled against his side.

“You’re gonna stay, right?” she asked, jutting out her bottom lip when she looked up at him.

“Not sure it’d be polite,” he teased.

“Definitely stay then. Because your rudeness turns me on.”

“Was I rude in your dream?”

“Yes,” she said with a giggle. “Not as rude as you were just then, though.”

“Sorry, I’ll always ask before oral.”

“You’d better not,” she warned, hiking her leg up and over his hips before settling down.

[shellheadtm-a]

Steve x Tony @shieldslinger​ / send me a ship and-

Who asks the other on dates:  lbh with each other here, these are the kind of assholes that have an actual date night.  sometimes they even make it to it and do date things.  but also let's be honest with the fact they've been going on dates for years and were too dumb to realize it.  museums?  burgers and a movie?  you know they've done it, you know it was a date, and you know they had literally no idea.  because they're dumbasses. Who is the bigger cuddler:  with all the unnecessary touching that went on with them from like literally steve's first day out of the ice and you come into my home and ask that question?  as touchy as they were before (those sweet, sweet shoulder squeezes of validation) you know it's worse now.  movie night's probably a nightmare just because you know it's either bc tony's draped some part of himself on steve, or they're jammed so close together you couldn't squeeze a sheet of paper between them, or...listen.  when two tactile people love each other very much, they're probably really gross and annoyingly handsy, and i don't mean in the...gropey kind of way, they're just touchy.  all the time.  must toch.  plus they have a shitton of issues, which probably doesn't help in that either but eh. Who initiates holding hands more often:  there's a theme here, you know that right.  there's a theme here, because it's a theme in canon, and it's tony offering a hand up to steve.  like it's a thing, you know it, i know it, so if you don't think tony's needy hand holder in this relationship, you'd be wrong.  it's sad, he gets this weird little thrill at even being able to do that, and on the one hand...you gotta feel bad for him.  he'd take whatever steve gives him and tell himself that's enough and he's content with it, because it's steve.  but knowing steve's okay with it?  a religious experience.

Who remembers anniversaries:  well, it's not steve rogers, i can tell you that.  and you know what, that's okay, and that's fair, and tony loves him anyway.  he might be the man with a plan, but he's useless with a planner.  he gets caught up in things, it's fine, tony remembers for the both of them, it's why he has friday.  what i'm saying is the only one who really remembers any important dates at all is friday. Who is more possessive:  i don't know that...you could really classify either of them that way?  overly protective, sure.  clucky with mother hen tendencies, the both of them, yeah.  taking what they can of each other's time, even if it's just to be able to say good night and good morning, absolutely.  but i don't think...with who they are as people, they really can't be. Who gets more jealous:  which goes back to being possessive, right, like tony has a little jealous streak but it doesn't manifest blatantly as one.  two, they're public figures so...there's not a lot of room for jealousy there.  like captain america and iron man might be characters they play (which are still them, i know i've talked about it but bear with me, it's an idealized version of them, separate from the inner selves) but they're public, you know, they're superheroes, and there's an expectation you share each other with the job.  and with the people you save.  with the world, really.  i think it's more about taking what time they do have as steve and tony more than anything else. Who is more protective:  this is a joke, right?  this is a joke.  these two idiots would throw themselves in front of each other over and over and over again if you let them.  that said, tony's moreso.  and i'll tell you why.  everything he's done?  all the bad?  the times he's sold his soul?  was to keep steve - and their loved ones - safe.  or happy, in a situation where there was really nothing they could do.  every time.  or i'll go one better.  tony will absolutely trade his own life for steve's in the blink of an eye, because he's always believed between the two of them steve's the better man.  he's done it.  willingly.  without a second thought once he's made the decision to do it.  he probably has a "sacrifing myself for the greater good and especially steve" face.  i'd like to lie and say that he understands if something happened to him how badly it would hurt steve but...if it came down to a choice of tony dying if it meant steve would live, he'd trade himself in a heartbeat.  that's uh.  something he's working on (he's not). Who is more likely to cheat:  this really is a joke.  steve "my middle name is noble" rogers and tony "has been in love with steve rogers for years" stark.  like tony would never, ever, ever say it, but this is it.  i don't mean in some fatalistic way, and i mean he fully believes he has an expiration date so he wouldn't say anything anyway, but this is it.  steve's always been The One.  his Person.  never would happen, not in a million fucking years. Who initiates sexy times the most:  you would think the answer is anthony edward stark and in most cases you'd be right, but steve rogers is not most cases, it is steve rogers and the rules don't apply to him.  by which i mean surprisingly steve is the proactive one here, and i think it's because tony is...he is hesitant.  it's weird, he's pushy with his forms of affection and then he backs off in this arena but i would argue he's getting better about it, and that the only reason he is like that is because he doesn't...he's very careful with steve, really, he's still walking on eggshells a little.  give him time, the tables will turn, he'll be pouncing steve from dark corners like an overgrown house cat with the 3am zoomies and a need to fight. Who dislikes PDA the most:  they're not, you know, public yet.  so it's not like this is really a thing outside of their friends circle, and even then, like.  i'm willing to bet literally nothing has changed in the slightest except you might walk in on them smoochin.  oh, the huge manatee.  tbf, for some people it might be (clint, looking directly at you) considering who wants to see their parents doing that but you know.  tough tiddy.  anyway, they’re just...not really the type. Who kills the spider:  listen they know some spiders who are very good people, and it's not nice to talk about premeditated murder.  there is a strict catch and release program in place and by that i mean tony will absolutely release said spiders back with their people.  except nat, because she's scary. Who asks the the other to marry them:  steve's joked around about that once.  once.  and tony did not take it well with his past history of failed relationships.  not out of a fear of committment, are you kidding me, this is tony who makes being married a personality trait.  but because he thinks he's a jinx.  i can tell you one thing, it won't be him that asks, if they ever get around to doing something more official than cohabitating.  shaking up.  whatever you want to call it.  not unless it's a jokey thing that gets taken seriously (which would change his tune embarrassingly fast).  he's gunshy at this point.  he's been engaged a few times and it's telling that he doesn't have like three divorces under his belt.  and also they're still feeling out the new them, which is fine, it's good they're doing that.  but he'd say yes in a heartbeat. Who buys the other flowers or gifts:  the answer you're looking for is tony stark.  it is tony stark who does this, thank you.  it could be big things, like, i don't know, a mansion (hello, 890 5th avenue).  training robots for the gym that...no one needs to know the price tag on that steve's going systematically tear apart.  training scenarios for the danger room he's spent three days straight coding and putting together.  new uniforms.  or it could be little things like a book steve's been meaning to get and read or his favorite bagel or...either way.  it's just who tony is, he can't help it.  if he has it, he gives it.  honestly i feel like at some point steve's just learned to roll with it because there's no stopping it.  he's been doing it forever, since day one (hey guys, remember the cray mainframe?), but now he's signed up for no complaining so you know.  that's on him. Who would bring up possibly having kids:  said like it hasn't already happened.  it's steve, by the way.  it's 1000% steve and he's already done it and tony's giving ten million reasons why he shouldn't when he knows he's going to say yes, and so what i'm really getting at here is they need to start thinking nursery colors for the mansion, because they're not fooling anyone.  and they're gonna be amazing parents and that kid is gonna be the most spoiled, loved, protected baby ever.  she hit the jackpot and doesn't even know it.  this is also the only superfamily content i am here for.  just a dumbass, a himbo, and a superbaby.  also consider.  all the cute.  knitted things.  i demand cute knitted things, it's not up for debate. Who is more nervous to meet the parents:  that's...not an issue, for one thing.  for another, like.  literally their entire friends group are...all...the same people.  lbr there was literally a betting pool in place and i wonder who won.  it keeps me up at night, wondering who cashed in on tony and steve no longer being quite as big of a pair of dumbasses as they have been.  part of me hopes it was peter parker, i worry about you, spooder-min. Who sleeps on the couch when the other is angry:  tony uh.  will stay in his lab if they have a row but i can promise you he doesn't sleep much.  if at all.  it's part and parcel with the tony stark experience in this case.  he'll stay in his hidey hole and be sad because steve's mad at him, but won't do anything about it at first, just stay and be sad.  because he's sad.  and also Feeling An Emotion is hard and they don't know how to use their words. Who tries to make up first after arguments:  i'd argue 70% of the time it's probably tony.  like, they're both stubborn, we know that.  they both dig in their heels and think they're right, the other's wrong, and they're being stupid about it.  and about some things they're just literally never going to agree but don't know how to agree to disagree.  tony gets set in a rut and won't consider a deviation from what he's already decided is going to happen.  steve gets mulish and refuses to listen to another point of view.  they butt heads.  but honestly, at this point, at the end of the day (if he can stop sulking), after everything that's happened?  you know, at this point it's obvious that when they argue and stay mad, bad things tend to happen.  tony doesn't even have memories of the worst of it but he knows he took it badly, let's be real here (i say, like badly's not a hilarious understatement).  he may not apologize in a way that says he's wrong, but he may do it for helping escalate a fight.  bc, you know, blah blah, not half as good as anything as i am doing it next to you, blah blah, azure eyes, blah blah, good morning beloved. Who tells the other they love them more often:  honestly, now that those big scary words are out there, and there's no takebacksies in having said it, they've both been pretty free with them.  making up for lost time, i guess.  i think they have different tones, though.  tony's as free with those with steve as he's ever been with anything else.  he gives them...often?  and with no expectation of anything in return.  because that's how he's always been with steve.  and from steve like...a lot of time it seems like...as much as he says it?  it's a reassurance more than anything (because we know how tony is).  sometimes tony even lets himself believe it without second guessing himself.