#our band and laid in bed for too long and and and

[strxnged]

i love mochi !!!!!!so much

[lale-txt]

𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 (𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐬𝐚 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫) ❦ 𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝟎𝟏 ; 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭: 𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐚

♫ Nilüfer Yanya - midnight sun

Love is raised by common thieves // Hiding diamonds up their sleeves // Always I did it for you // Never felt so sure // You're my best machine // You're my midnight sun // Always I did it for you

word count: 4.3k

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“And this is the secret snack drawer of our department. Bossman refills it every Tuesday so you gotta be quick if you wanna snatch your favs before someone else does.” “Alright, thanks Bokuto-san, I’ll keep it in mind.”

When they said office tour this wasn’t exactly what you imagined, but you’re not complaining. You trail behind this giant puppy of a man who can barely contain his excitement over showing you around the building. While he gives off the impression that there’s not a single thought behind these unsettling eyes of his, you can tell that he is a sweetheart to his core and you have a good feeling about working together.

It’s been an hour since Kiyoko from HR–the most beautiful girl you’ve ever laid your eyes on–dropped you off in the hands of your future team and so far you’ve seen: 

The half-heartedly fixed window on the 3rd floor a certain “Tsum-Tsum” broke during last month’s office party

The girls restroom where Yachi from Marketing could be heard crying (“She schedules her crying session between meetings, it’s normal for her so don’t worry!”)

The cafeteria and which vending machines there to avoid, as well as the ones Bokuto ended up being stuck with his arm in 

The rooftop where they hold events during the warmer months (and where you accidentally locked yourself out when the door fell shut behind you–thankfully a guy built like a french door fridge who introduced himself as Meian came to your rescue after twenty minutes).

The coffee shop next door where everyone goes because the in-house coffee is ass apparently and HR cut budget for a new coffee machine 

What you haven’t seen yet:

Your future cubicle and the floor your team works on

The IT department where you’re supposed to pick up your work laptop

The showrooms of the latest collection

The Bossman 

Still, your nervousness from this morning is easing slowly. When you applied for this position, you wouldn’t have thought that they’d actually hire you considering what a mess your resume is on paper. Moved overseas with your family in middle school and continued living there till a month ago. Dropped out of college to pursue a career as seamstress (all self-taught no less because an apprenticeship meant too much commitment). Then chased that promised record label deal with your band which didn’t happen before you crashed and burned out big time. 

Frankly speaking, you were tired. 

It’s as if every decision in your life was either taken away from you or led you down a miserable path. Everything you touched just crumbled underneath your fingertips. Sometimes you catch yourself thinking that maybe you weren’t built for this kind of life. Maybe you weren’t meant to be a dreamer. 

Something boring. Something stable. 

You applied for this corporate job with the hope in your heart that you can find some rest. Putting an end to worrying about bills at the end of the month, and finally knowing which bed you’ll fall asleep in at night, seeing the same old city day in, day out. Maybe a place to call home but then again you didn’t allow yourself to wish for too much. Just a change from whatever trainwreck your life had been prior to this would be nice. 

You loved sewing and making music with your entire being, but maybe you never should’ve built a living on it–if you could even call the past few years of your adulthood that. Living. It felt more like surviving. You’ve been missing that joy over these things you used to love the most for a long time now. 

So when you got the call that you got the job last month, you didn’t have to think twice. You started packing your few belongings into boxes the same day and gave notice to quit your shabby flat. The money you once saved to go on a world tour with your band now came in handy to fund your move back to Japan. It all happened so fast. In a way it felt like an escape, like giving up; but in your heart you knew this was the right thing to do. 

Maybe you had to take your eyes off the things you loved to really see them again.

“Hello…? Yes, she’s with me. What? No, I wasn’t showing her the view from the fire escape ladder. Should I? Why am I getting yelled at?”

You snap out of your thoughts when Bokuto answers a call that obviously makes him go through all emotions in the span of a minute. He gestures something to you and you have no idea what it means, but based on context clues you assume it’s “the bossman” on the other end of the line. 

“Meeting room on cloud nine, got it. What? But ‘ninth floor' sounds so boring… yeah, yeah, I’ll bring her. No detours, got it. Not even… no? Okay.”

Bokuto hangs up the phone and you swear his hair looks a little deflated, just like his overall expression. He really was an open book. It was kind of refreshing.

“Did you get in trouble because of me?”, you ask and he shakes his head vehemently. 

“No, no! I showed you all the important stuff and Omi-Omi–I mean, the bossman–will show you the boring rest. Like where your desk is and everything. He’s back from his out-of-office appointment and booked a meeting room for you two. I’ll take you there!”

Omi. The corners of your mouth twitch a little when you hear that name, a sweet memory unraveling in your chest. Bruised knees and ice cream dripping down your knuckles, small hands pushing you on the swings and braiding flower crowns made from daisies for you. Plucked out petals. He loves me, he loves me not. Friendship bracelets and baby teeth. 

You aren’t any good with names, but you’re sure you would’ve remembered this one during the interview process. 

“This Omi-Omi…” you wonder as you follow Bokuto’s lead, “is he a new hire as well? I’ve spoken with a ton of people for my interview but if I remember correctly the team leader was someone called Miya Osamu…?”

“Ohh, you spoke with Myaa-sam!” Bokuto’s eyes seem to light up. “No, he doesn’t work here anymore, just his carbon copy! Quit the job to follow his dreams, he said. He’s about to open his own restaurant just around the corner actually! We should go there for lunch once it’s open!”

A strange emotion tugs on your heartstrings. Following your dreams. Yeah, that ended disastrous for you but still you can’t help but feel a pang of envy over everyone who does it anyway. You try to shove it deep down, far away. It’s long in the past. You’re here now, a new chapter. New faces. New routines. All new. Same old you. 

“Omi-Omi got promoted when Myaa-sam left, so that’s why you haven’t met him during your interviews,” Bokuto adds and holds out a door for you. “Don’t worry about him. He can be a bit grumpy at times but he has a sparkly heart or whatever the saying is. You’ll get along just fine!”

Bokuto leaves you alone with your thoughts in the small meeting room. You’re not sure what to do while you wait. The prospect of sitting still seems awful but you also don’t wanna be nosey and flip through the fabric samples someone left on the table or read through the flipchart in the corner, even though you’re tempted, so you end up pacing around the room and looking outside the big windows. Everything outside seems so small from up this high. It makes you feel irrelevant too and it’s a strangely comforting feeling. Being nothing but a name, a small gear in a bigger picture. Maybe if you become a blank canvas, you can find the colors in your world again. 

You twirl around when the door clicks open, flattening down your skirt, suddenly now very aware that the moving box with your flatiron is still stuck on some container at sea. Doesn’t matter, maybe you can pull it off as edgy or casual chic with the right amount of charm and charisma. 

Behind you, the door clicks open, making you twirl around. 

And freeze.

“Sorry I’m late, I picked up your work laptop from the IT department on my way, so we can get started right aw–” 

Leather sleeve holders on a spotless white shirt. A black face mask covering the lower half of his face. Dark curls, moving like the sea at night. Hands so large they’d swallow yours easily if you ever get to hold them again. Two birthmarks, right above the eye–that’s where a lover used to kiss you in a past life, you remember saying when you were both kids.

“Kiyoomi,” you hear yourself mutter. It sounds distant, like an echo from the past. It’s been over a decade since you tasted his name in your mouth and even after all this time your hearts still recognize each other. 

“Ah,” he says and then, after a pause, “you.”

He looks dumbfounded and just stands there frozen, balancing a bundle of paperworks and a laptop in one hand and two styrofoam cups of coffee in the other. For a few seconds you just blink at each other, trying to process whatever cheap trick the universe decided to play here.

Sakusa Kiyoomi. The boy you claimed you’d marry one day when you were both just eight years old. You remember being so sure about it. How the thought never left you growing up; and how you broke down crying when your parents told you about their plans to move overseas for their work during your first year of middle school, the end of a dream. 

Eventually you snap out of your paralysis. 

“Ah, you. What kind of non-reaction is that?”, you ask and shake your head, laughing. You take the coffee from his hand and reach out to slowly peel the mask off his face. Despite his brows knitting together, he doesn’t protest it. It’s strange, seeing him. The boy you once promised your heart to in the sandbox and the grown man with the same face, just sharper. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you now. 

“Well, excuse me, but the girl who I still have a bite mark from when we were kids just spawned out of the blue in front of me,” Kiyoomi huffs, rolling his eyes like he used to when he was annoyed by your antics. He cups one side of your face with his now free hand and lifts it slightly as if to get a better look at you, his thumb idly caressing your cheek. It feels awfully intimate and you find yourself leaning closer into his touch.

Omi. Your Omi. 

It’s as if time stood still between you; as if not over a decade has passed since you last saw each other. Held each other. Murmured promises in each other's ears as you hugged goodbye in the pouring rain. Of course it was pouring that day, it was as if the heavens were weeping over the two of you being separated. Maybe that's the universe's apology for this past dick move, you think, the corners of your lips curling upwards.

Kiyoomi lets go of your cheek and flicks your forehead as if he read your mind. Another habit from back then.

“Still a daydreamer,” he remarks and for the first time since he walked into the room he smiles and it’s like the sun has risen again after years of winter. 

When you sit down together, so close that your knees under the table are touching, you find it hard to focus. Kiyoomi explains the applications you’ll work with, your logins, company security policies, which meetings you’ll attend with him the upcoming weeks and the hierarchy of your team, but you don’t follow. At all. You’re too distracted by the flutter in your chest and wondering what the shaved part in the back of his neck would feel like if you ran your fingers over it, as well as what he’d been up to over the past decade, and why he never answered your letters, and… 

Your phone vibrating on the table next to you snaps you out of your thoughts. You click your tongue in annoyance when you see it’s the moving company calling you. 

“Sorry, I gotta take this. Won’t take long,” you apologize and pick up the phone, leaving the room for an ounce of privacy–it’s not like the thin walls muffle much when you yell into the speaker for five minutes only to hang up in defeat. 

Kiyoomi looks up when you return, his eyes looking you up and down with the same intense gaze like he always did.

“Boyfriend trouble?” His voice is bland, seemingly disinterested, but no matter how much he tries to hide it you can still hear the underlying weight of the question. “Or girlfriend trouble. Didn’t mean to make assumptions.” 

You slump down on your chair again and sigh in defeat, shaking your head. 

“None of that. It’s the damn moving company,” you huff, slamming your phone back on the table. “They mixed up dates and now I’m here but all my stuff isn’t.” You rub the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “It’s been almost a month and my back will kill me if I have to spend one more night on an air mattress.”

Kiyoomi drums his fingers on the table, pondering. You can tell by the furrow of his brows and the intensity of his gaze. Once again you notice what a fine man he has become. His beauty would’ve been intimidating if you haven’t known him since you were little kids. 

“Stay with me.”

You look up from your phone where you wrote down the new date they gave you for the arrival of your furniture and blink at him slowly. Not fully registering what he’s saying.

“Stay with me,” Kiyoomi repeats again, noticing your confusion. “Till your things arrive. I have a guest room. It’s a short commute to the job. I cook and I clean.” He shuts his laptop and gets up, running a hand through his dark curls. 

“And…?”, you ask, as if waiting for the condition because surely it sounds too good to be true. 

“And maybe I’m also worried that you’ll turn out to be nothing but a fever dream if I take my eyes off you again.”

In the evening, Kiyoomi and you stop by your almost empty apartment to pick up your suitcases with a change of clothes. 

Sneaking away after work together without the rest of the team noticing was surprisingly easy–Meian had clocked out early to pick up his partner from school (Kiyoomi begged him to clarify that she was a teacher to avoid any future confusion), Bokuto and Atsumu were stuck in an elevator (“They’re not my responsibility after 5pm”) and Hinata went out for dinner with some business partners from Brazil. 

When Kiyoomi saw how you were dressed for the chilly autumn weather, he wordlessly turned around and disappeared in the office building for five minutes again, showing up with a scarf that looked suspiciously like the one the mannequin in the showroom wore, from the collection that wasn’t supposed to see the light yet. Nobody has to know, especially not how tenderly he wraps it around you, making sure you stay warm. He always did. 

Some kind of protective instinct within him kicks in when you unlock the door to your place. Kiyoomi, who huffed about the lack of security of your apartment complex for the duration of the whole elevator ride and then some more when you let him in, was now checking your windows and front door. 

“You’re gonna tire yourself out from all that head shaking and tongue clicking, Omi,” you tell him while you stuff your scattered clothes across the floor back into your two big suitcases. Most of them were absolutely not fit for the season because after spending half of your life abroad. You kind of underestimated how cold Japan could get during autumn and winter. Maybe you could sew a few pieces after work and on the weekends. 

“This place is a rathole,” Kiyoomi groans after turning the dripping faucet on and off and making a face of utter disapproval. “You should just move in with me permanently.”

“I’m not moving in with you, I just met you like eight hours ago,” you snarl back and roll your eyes, but maybe, in the back of your mind, you’re considering it. 

Kiyoomi crouches down next to you, taking your chin between his fingers so you’d look at him.

“Eight hours my ass,” he huffs. “Don’t act like we spent our childhood glued together. You slept more in my bed than in yours. The memory foam of my mattress kept the shape of you long after you were gone.”

“Now that’s kinda romantic.” 

You glance at him, a small smile tugging on the corners of your mouth. Your Omi. How you missed him. His thumb traces the outline of your jaw, and for a fleeting second you wonder if he’s gonna kiss you. 

Maybe you really want him to kiss you. 

You take a cab to Kiyoomi’s apartment (“What have you packed in these suitcases? Bricks? I’m not hauling these to the other end of the city. Get in.”) and he holds your hand for the entire duration of the ride under the feeble excuse that your hands are too cold. On the outside you watch the city lights pass by, an artificial milky way that unexpectedly lead you back into your first love’s arms.

Kiyoomi’s place is clean and spacious without being cold. The scent of it is making your brain tingle in a strange way, the subtle note of an almost forgotten childhood memory resurfacing again; the boy you once loved still living here but also someone else, someone he grew into without you.

You step out of your heels and shrug off your jacket and the scarf, dropping them carelessly to the ground. Behind you Kiyoomi bends down to hang it up neatly on the coat rack while you waltz inside as if you own this place. Another thing that hasn’t changed since you both were little. 

Expensive, you think, recognizing some of the furniture brands and decorations. In one corner of the living room stands a vintage serving cart, crystal glasses and pricey bottles of various alcohols on top of it. His walls are adorned with artworks of all sizes, but otherwise they’re bare, the shelves missing trinkets and personal touches like framed photos of family and friends. 

Still, the whole place feels like a home, lived in by someone as quiet and private as Kiyoomi. 

“It’s late, I’m gonna order us some food,” Kiyoomi announces when he appears behind you, fingers tapping on his phone screen in one hand while the other unbuttons his shirt a little. He doesn’t look at you, just hands you his phone, gesturing vaguely. “Pick anything you like. My treat.”

Sitting down on the couch with your knees hugged to your chest, you scroll through the food options. Your attention span is fleeting, your eyes darting from the screen to Kiyoomi who carries your suitcases to the guest bedroom. Giving you a place to be, to stay, like it’s the most natural thing to do. Suddenly you’re very aware of the heaviness of your bones and how tired you feel.

You’ve been running for a long time. You’re home now. 

Kiyoomi returns with a towel and a change of clothes, taking the phone from you again. He frowns when he scrolls through your food picks, letting out a small sigh.

“You still have the palate of a five year old.”

“You told me to pick anything I like? Just because you were fed caviar and gold dust as a baby… You pick something then.”

“I didn’t say I won’t order it, no? Go take a bath meanwhile. You had a long day.” 

A long day. If it was only that.

But you don’t say anything, just wordlessly take the stuff from Kiyoomi’s hands and let him usher you to the bathroom. He pats the counter for you to sit on while he runs you a bath, pouring some bathing essence that causes a mild explosion of bubbles (same as you liked it back then). The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up when he checks the water temperature before turning back to you. He walks over till he’s standing between your legs, his hands coming down to rest on the sides of your thigh.

In the confined space of the bathroom, he seems even taller, wider. Nothing left from his baby cheeks and soft features. There was a time when you could see eye to eye, but now he’s towering over you with ease. Your hands find their way to his hips, subconsciously making him inch closer. 

“You don’t have to do all of that for me, you know,” you mumble as you glance up at him. 

“I want to. So please, let me,” he replies quietly. His face is so close, you could count his lashes if they weren’t endless. Endless as his adoration for you–still, after all this time. You briefly wonder if you could love each other like you did back then. Or even more. Your heart is drumming, a nostalgic melody you haven’t listened to in a while but one that’s engraved into your being.

It would be so easy, loving him. Like breathing. 

Kiyoomi pulls you into a tight hug, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Your arms around him cling tight, as if part of you is afraid that he is just a fleeting illusion, crumbling the moment you let go. It seems like you share the same fear. He shakes his head when your grip loosens slightly. 

“Not yet,” he mumbles, his lips brushing over the skin of your neck when he does. “Don’t let go yet.”

Your fingers are tangled in his curls, keeping him close, your bodies pressed against each other. Hearts beating in unison. You silently thank the sun and the moon for bringing you back home into his arms. Only when his neck starts to hurt from the way he’s hunched over you, he reluctantly peels himself away from you, patting your side. “C’mon now. Your bath will get cold.”

He holds out a hand to help you down from the counter, slender fingers wrapping around yours. 

“But I wanna keep talking to you,” you pout, earning a small eye roll from him, but the faint smile on his lips is betraying the gesture.

“Then leave the door a crack open. I’ll talk to you, doll,” he replies and flicks your forehead. Before he leaves the bathroom he turns around again, as if there was something else on the tip of his tongue, but he decides to swallow it. For now.

Immersed in the bubble bath, you tell Kiyoomi everything that happened over the span of the past decade. From your life overseas and how lonely it had been, to the missing letters and how you tried finding him on social media when you were older, how much you loved sewing and making music and how it burned you out doing these things for a living. You pour your heart out. Somehow it’s easier when you’re not looking at him, when you can’t see your own sad reflection in his dark eyes.

You can hear him moving around on the outside, not peeking, but always near enough to give you short answers, ask questions or to simply hear him laugh through the small crack you left open. It is strange. Life is strange. One night you’re selling your bass to have something to eat for the rest of the month, then a heartbeat later you’re sitting in your puppy love’s bathtub while he orders you fries and waffles. 

That night, you fall in love again.

Or maybe you never fell out of it. But it’s there, tangible, glowing. You're tucked under a thick blanket, a photo album in your lap, and Kiyoomi is hand feeding you nuggets while you look over the slightly faded photos from when you were kids, some you have long forgotten about. 

The one where you lost your first baby teeth, grinning from ear to ear to show off your tooth gap. You cried horribly that day and to comfort you, Kiyoomi bought you a small plushie from his pocket money. It still sits next to your pillow when you fall asleep every night.

The one where you wore your middle school uniforms for the first time, not knowing you would be torn apart a year later and never got to graduate together. It’s also when Kiyoomi had another growth spurt and you realized you really, really liked this boy.

The one where you played dress up in your mother’s wardrobe, her wedding dress way too big on you, the veil awry on top of your hair, but Kiyoomi looking at you like you’re magic. It was all play pretend, but maybe in another life he really became your husband if life hadn’t torn you apart.

“I really missed you,” you sigh quietly, your head resting against his shoulder as you shuffle through the photos. The nostalgia is leaving a bittersweet taste in your mouth, the what if’s getting harder to swallow. It’s like the words are clawing in your throat, begging to be let out. Kiyoomi wraps his arm closer around you, pressing a soft kiss on top of your head. 

“Missed you too. More than anything.”

It seems like everything leads you back to him. In his arms, his home, his heart. You have a feeling that maybe this could be the beginning of something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

a/n: i rewrote this chapter SO many times to a point where i wanted to rip my hair and my eyes out so here we are. omi loving demon and me are shaking hands rn, WE MADE IT. thank you so much for reading and loving omi as much as i do. this chapter is for YOU 🌷 ps: meian's partner mentioned is y/n from dodger's oh captain, my captain

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[surielstea]

A Fatherly Fear

Based on this request.

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eris has doubts about how good of a father he’ll truly be, Reader eases his mind.

Warnings: pregnant reader | mentions of abuse | mentions of manipulation | basic Vanserra childhood trauma stuff | hurt/comfort | fluff

1.8k words

I winced as a cold breeze entered my bedroom, huffing as I stirred from sleep and held the blankets to my chin as I shifted closer to my mate, who was always there to warm me up no matter the climate. The fire in his veins had been a blessing throughout the long winter months.

But his side of the mattress had been vacant. I squint one eye open, only to find ruffled sheets. I sit up and open both my eyes as I search for my mate in the dark room.

"Eris?" I murmured, rubbing at my eyelids with the heel of my palms.

When I receive no reply I quietly groan, slipping from the warm bed, padding towards the open balcony doors. That explained the chilling breeze.

I go to slide the glass door closed when I spot a familiar redhead staring out at the crescent moon in the sky, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

I frown and step out into the frigid night, immediately wanting to go back to our heated bed and bundle myself in the blankets, but he had already turned to look at me with despondent eyes and I knew there was no way I'd leave him out here.

"What are you doing awake?" I pace towards him, craving his fire. "Come back to bed," I wrap my arms around one of his biceps as I stare up at him.

He looks down at the golden signet ring in his hands, the one that had belonged to his father, and his father's father before him. "Couldn't sleep," He sighed, looking out at the green forest, vibrant under the moonlight. The smell of spring was unmistakable in the night-chilled mist.

I knew that Eris hadn't been sleeping well since the beginning of my pregnancy, I was unsure if that was because he was paranoid about my safety, or paranoid about becoming a father. I wish I could ease his mind about both.

I simply lean into him, his arm coming around my back as I laid my head on his chest. I watched the trees sway with the wind, and the stars twinkle in the night sky, I even spotted a doe trotting freely in the game park below us. I waited in the comfortable silence, letting him decide if he wanted to talk or not. Eventually, he broke our silence.

"My father," He began. "He used to beat me and my brothers with this ring on," He stated, holding the ring up and over the balcony. It was beautifully crafted, and no doubt solid gold. "I can still remember how cold it felt on my skin," He hummed, putting it back on his fourth finger.

I turned away from the railing, wrapping both my arms tightly around my mate, holding him close and bathing in the warmth he radiated.

I hated the idea of Beron still having an effect on Eris, on anyone living really. The late high lord would be rolling in his grave if he knew he was still tormenting souls.

"He's gone now," I say, propping my chin up onto his chest to stare up at him. "He can't hurt you," I brush a strand of loose hair from his eyes.

"No," He shook his head. "He can't," He placed his hands on my waist.

I cup my hands over his, smiling when I feel the chill of his wedding band. "I much prefer this ring anyway," I said, brushing my thumb against it.

He nodded, leaning down and resting his forehead against mine. "You should go back to bed, you need your rest," He murmured and I shook my head no, turning away from him and back to the rolling hills and mountains in the distance.

"You do too," I spoke stubbornly. "So we'll stay out here until you're ready to go back inside," I finalized, leaning back into his chest while he wrapped his muscular arms firmly around my waist.

The silence danced around us yet again, but it was an easy sort of quiet, the kind where crickets chirped and owls hooted in order to fill it.

"My mother used to tell me stories from the past, when my father was a better man," He began, tightening his hold around me, warming me to my very core. "Before he had power, before he had me, she said he had been so different then." His chin comes down onto the top of my head. "I know now that he was manipulating her, hurling her into a royal marriage when she was freshly twenty," He continues, taking a deep breath between his next words. "But still, a part of me likes to believe he had a soul before he became power-hungry."

I let him talk, let him sift through all the thoughts in his mind.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say is that I'm terrified I'll be just like him when our child is born," He confesses into my hair and my brows bunch. I whirl around to face him with a stern expression.

"Your father was a monster," I state plain and simple. Eris' eyes darken.

"Yes, and I was his favorite son," He stressed and something inside my gut tightened. I hated seeing him like this, so worked up due to his own mind reeling with no one around to tell him it was going to be okay.

"That doesn't make you him," I bring my hands to his jaw. "Look at me," I whispered and he did as I said, his beautiful amber eyes meeting my gaze. "You're not him, you're not your mother, you're Eris Vanserra. My amazing mate, and the father of my child," I argue. "You're just you, who runs through your blood can't affect who you choose to be, do you understand me?" I lifted a brow and he nodded. "Tell me you understand me," I demanded and he smiled.

"I understand you, my love, I understand you," He reassured and my shoulders fell with the release of tension. He inches forward and places a chaste kiss on my lips.

"You're going to be such a good mom," He whispers, holding me achingly close like I might slip from his grasp at any moment. "I hope he turns out more like you," He pulls back to look me in the eye and I beam up at him, thinking about our soon-to-be son, he matches the grin and I swear I fall in love all over again.

"Only if he has your smile," I bargain and he debates it for a moment before muttering, "Deal." Then leaning in again and attaching our lips.

I melt into his touch, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck. "But," I pull away for air. "No matter what he looks like, or how he acts, I'm certain you'd tear this continent apart if anything ever happened to him," I remark and his soft smile was an answer enough that I was correct. He pecks me in reply.

"Come back to bed." I intertwine our hands, dangling them between us as I slowly pull away from him, receding towards the glass doors behind me.

"It gets so cold without you," I whine and he smirks knowingly.

"Says a girl from the Summer Court," He teases and I scowl at him playfully.

"She up, you know I can't use magic while I'm pregnant with your baby," I somehow pin the blame on him and he chuckles, allowing me to drag him back into our bedroom.

I let go of his hands and slid the glass door shut, locking it and keeping the persistent cold out. "Gods, I hope our children don't complain as much as you," He sighs, flopping down onto the bed.

"Oh honey, we're going to be the bane of your existence," I taunt, crawling up towards him on the mattress.

"Impossible," He sighs, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me right into him.

He wrapped his arms around me, the blankets covering the both of us and as if he knew exactly what I needed, the comforter began to seep warmth, the way the sun's rays felt after a rainy day.

"Wait," I perked up to look at him.

"What is it?" His brows furrowed.

"You said children, as in, more than one," I recalled and he looked at me confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"You said, I hope our children don't complain as much as you," I say, mocking him with a deep voice.

His confusion remained prominent on his face. "What about it?" He arched a brow. "I mean, whatever you want is fine with me but I wasn't exactly planning on only having one," He frowned.

"Well, how many do you want?" I asked, and you'd think this is something we would have talked about before he put a baby in me.

"I want a girl," He confessed. "Once we have a girl I'll be satisfied," He explained and I paled.

The Vanserra family was known for having a very long lineage of only male offspring. Whether it was a curse, magic, or dumb luck she wasn't quite sure. But he seemed entirely serious.

I stared at him with a fearful look in my eyes and he burst out laughing, chuckling at my expression.

"Gods, you should see your face," He hummed between breaths, cupping my cheeks in his hands.

"My pretty girl," He sighed once he got his amusement under control. "I promise I don't want anything that you wouldn't be comfortable with," He reassured and my anxiety declined. "But I would love to fuck another baby into you," He hummed, throwing his arms back around me.

"For a male so worried about becoming a father, you seem horny at the idea of getting me pregnant," I say and he grins.

"You just, I like the idea of having a family with you," He confesses and I lean upward, kissing him gently.

"I like the idea of having a family with you, too," I reply and he flushes so red that I could see the hue in the dark. I don't say anything, just peck his lips, reveling in the idea of being about to have a kid and still being able to make him blush.

"Get some sleep, Eris," I say softly against his lips. "You can tell me all about your plans for our family in the morning," I murmur through a yawn, furrowing deeper into his chest, melting into his warmth.

"Goodnight, beautiful," He whispered, running a hand through my hair until I drifted off beneath his touch.

It took him a moment to join me in a slumber, but the thoughts of his father were wiped away by my comforting words. And after a moment of reciting them, he was able to finally find some rest.

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[misshoneyimhome]

for Jarvy maybe it’s something fluffy but suggestive? hes been doing well with game 1 and his big hit and game 2 and his goal. Hes probably crediting it to something him and his girlfriend do before games? like something for good luck but he cant say what on camera

So, this is my very first attempt at writing some Seth Jarvis 🤗

Just very short; I had a bit of a debate with myself on how to approach this, but after watching a few videos of this adorable idiot, I think I've got a good idea of how I see him in my mind 😉 However, I do apologise though if this turned out a bit short 🙏🏼

And yes, I've kept the pre-game ritual open for interpretation, though I believe there's a pretty clear hint at what it might entail 😂

Anyway, hope you like it! 🌺

Tropes & warnings; established relationship, boyfriend!Seth; no explicit smut - just mentions of sexual activities;

Word count; 1.6K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Lucky charms I Seth Jarvis 🖋️🌺

Seth Jarvis had been making waves in the hockey world, his name frequently mentioned in highlight reels and post-game discussions. And as his girlfriend, you had a front-row seat to his triumphs as well as challenges, knowing there was more to his success than just raw talent. Behind every goal, every hit, lay nothing but hard work and dedication, coupled with a ritual you both cherished – a secret that kept him grounded and focused throughout the season. With the playoffs upon him, it was time to embrace that ritual more than ever.

It was just before the first game of round one of the playoffs, and though your boyfriend was nothing short of an incredible hockey player, usually calm and collected as he mentally prepared for each game, you sensed his nerves.

His cool and laid-back demeanour was often what calmed the rest of the team, coupled with his cheerfulness and goofy behaviour, which usually kept the spirits high. However, with the seriousness of the playoffs looming, you had a feeling that perhaps you, as his girlfriend, could be the one to help calm his nerves – at least on your home turf.

And as he sat on the edge of the bed, lacing up his shoes with a focused frown, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers moved a bit too quickly, betraying his usual relaxed pace. So, slowly, you walked over and stood in front of him, running your hand through his semi-long dark hair to ease his stiffness.

"Hey," you said softly. "You doing okay?"

He slowly gazed up, his eyes meeting yours with a small smile that didn’t quite reach them. "Yeah, just... you know. First game jitters."

You merely nodded, trying to understand the weight of the playoffs, as you let out a soft sigh. But then a cheeky smile appeared on your lips. "You know… I think I might have something that could help," you then spoke with a mischievous glint in your eye, hoping a bit of playfulness would ease the tension.

And naturally, Seth’s smile widened, a hint of curiosity replacing the worry. "Oh yeah? What’s that?"

Slowly you leaned down, your lips delicately brushing his ear as you whispered, "Our little ritual. I think it’s time for some good luck, don’t you?"

Seth’s eyes lit up immediately, the tension in his body easing slightly. "You think we have the time?"

But you simply nodded, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. "We’ll make the time."

With a heartfelt chuckle, Seth pulled you closer into his arms. "Alright then, let’s get some good luck going, baby."

You couldn’t suppress a smile as you again saw happiness in his eye, and with another chuckle you simply spoke, “you go get the green hair band – I’ll go get the whipped cream!”

_

You weren’t particularly superstitious by nature but observing the players' pre-game rituals over time had planted a seed of belief in you. Perhaps there was something greater in the universe, especially considering the impact of your own little ritual.

Because Seth Jarvis was on fire. Enough said.

His standout performance in game one of the first playoff round, marked by a massive hit, had set the tone. Then, his goal in the second match had everyone talking. Despite his undeniable talent, it seemed he had found an extra spark that fuelled his fire. And predictably, the press clamoured for interviews, and Seth, ever humble, obliged.

“Hey, Seth! What’s your secret to such a great start this series?” asked one reporter, a curious smile tugging at her lips.

Seth chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, ya know, I’ve got a great team supporting me, and we’ve been working real hard. And, uh,” he glanced at you, standing nearby, “I’ve got some personal good luck charms.”

The reporters chuckled, sensing there was more to the story. “Care to share what these personal good luck charms are?”

But Seth shook his head, grinning mischievously. “Ah no, that’s top secret. Let’s just say it’s a sort of pre-game ritual my girlfriend and I have. And it’s been working pretty good.”

The sexual undertone wasn’t lost on anyone, and the reporters tried to dig deeper, eager for a scoop. However, saved by the bell, the team’s media handler intervened, wrapping up the session before Seth made his way over to you, his smile widening. “Ready to head home?”

You nodded, linking your arm through his. “You handled that so well, Jarvs. I thought for a second you might spill the beans.”

Seth couldn’t help but let out a laughter, bending down to kiss the top of your head. “Nah, our secret’s safe, babe. Besides, can you imagine the headlines?”

And as you both settled into the car, laughter bubbled between you, reminiscing about your light-hearted ritual. What began as a joke had evolved into your private good luck charm, a playful bond shared only between you and Seth.

_

Seth's playful antics were pretty much just common within the Carolina Hurricanes. With his youthful spirit, cheerful mood, and knack for teasing his teammates in the most creative ways, he was like the team's resident joker - always keeping the mood light, of course.

And you couldn't help but love him for it. His infectious energy was just one of the many things that had drawn you to him right from the start. And sharing a home in his spacious pad, every day was a whirlwind of laughter and joy, a testament to the strong bond you both cherished.

Likewise, Seth had been immediately taken with you. From the first time you crossed paths at those off-season get-togethers with the other players, you hit it off effortlessly, as you seemed to be one that could match his high vibe. 

Every playful remark he threw your way, you volleyed right back, and your ability to laugh along with his antics, even when he pushed the boundaries a bit, only solidified a bond between yo. 

Yet amidst all the fun and banter, there was a deep strength and support in your relationship. As you transitioned from being casual acquaintances to inseparable partners in crime, cheering Seth on from the side-lines during hockey games, your unwavering support became his rock. Win or lose, you were always there with love and encouragement, deepening your connection and eventually leading you to proudly wear his number 24.

Not to forget the incredible sex. That was in a league of its own. The fun in the bedroom you and Seth shared – or anywhere else, for that matter – was absolutely mind-blowing. While initially, you both had held back a bit, once you got to know each other better, the sky was the limit. And what mattered most was how at ease and comfortable you felt with him. Sure, he wasn't always the most mature or serious guy, but he was definitely the most enjoyable to explore new realms with. You just never felt insecure with him because he had a knack for just enjoying the moment with you.

And as weeks turned into months, neither of you wanted to let go of the spark that ignited your relationship, and soon enough, you found yourself in a romantic relationship with the Canadian hockey player. And before you knew it, the playful dynamic between you had created this quirky pre-game ritual that somehow just became a part of your relationship.

_

"Can you believe our little ritual actually worked again?" you chuckled, settling into the passenger seat as Seth took the wheel and started the car, shooting you a fond look.

"Of course, it did, babe! I swear, every time I step onto the ice, I know your little trick has something to do with it - I can just feel it."

You couldn’t resist smiling as you reached over to squeeze his hand. "Well, then I guess we’ll have to keep it up."

"Definitely," Seth simply said, bringing your hand to his lips. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Driving home, a swell of pride and affection washed over you. While Seth might be grabbing headlines with his performance, to you, he was more than just a talented hockey player. He was your partner in crime, and the bond you shared was stronger than any pre-game ritual.

And when you finally arrived home, both craving some relaxation time, you settled onto the sofa, and Seth swiftly pulled you close. The TV was on, replaying highlights from the game, and as you watched his goal being shown again and again, with commentators praising his skill and determination, Seth couldn’t hide his confident grin.

"You know," he murmured, his voice low and warm, near your ear, "I think it could be time for the post-game ritual now…"

Turning to him, you raised an eyebrow teasingly. "Oh?" you remarked, meeting his gaze directly. "So, you think you’ve earned that?"

And once more, he just grinned, a mischievous spark in his eyes. "Oh, I definitely think I have!"

"Hmm," you playfully mused, considering your next move, a devilish idea forming in your mind. "Well, maybe you have…"

"Mmm, yes! I’ll go get the whipped cream then, baby," your boyfriend chuckled lightly.

Yet you stopped him in his tracks. "Hold on, Jarvs," you flashed him a cheeky look. "I think tonight, we need both whipped cream and ice cream."

And Seth knew exactly what that meant; tonight, despite his tiredness, which had naturally washed away, the two of you weren’t going to bed early.

"Well, then how about you go and get ready while I prepare everything in the kitchen?" he suggested.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning in to kiss him deeply and passionately. "Your wish is my command, star player."

In that moment, everything felt just right. It wasn’t only about the games or the goals – It was about the love and support you shared; those little moments that made life extraordinary. And if a few secret rituals along the way contributed to Seth’s success, well, that was just the cherry on top.

[lizzies-wonderland]

Stardew Valley bachelors headcannons

perfect date <3 (Part 1)

____________________

• Alex

It was a summer sunny day and he wanted to go to the beach, so he called you. Actually, even though he really had a crush on you, he wasn't thinking about a date.

You went together to the beach, talking about the Tunnelers game and about your farm and the chickens, he tells you about the eggs and the protein that they have.

When you got to the beach, you got a place to sit together. He then gets the gridball ball that he brought and he calls you to play with him. You played all day and had a lot of fun. You ended up losing, but you still were happy. You get tired and, before you go home, he takes you to have ice cream (made by him) on his house. It was really delicious and he said that it was healthier than the Joja ones, because he makes his ice cream with actual fruits and with milk from Marnie's ranch.

He takes you back to your farm at evening and when you get there he tells you that you're a good player, even though he is better that you... He then says that he wants to play more with you, that he had fun and disguised an "I love you" with an "loved it... yeah... the game... bye farmer!". He goes back to his house and spends the whole night thinking about that day.

• Elliott

After a long day writing his book, he just wanted to relax with the person he loves most. He never really felt this way with anybody, but you really make his heart beat faster. He called you to go to the Saloon. You met there and he asked for a wine for both of you and a dish of lobster.

It was delicious, and even though you asked to pay your part of the bill, he didn't let you and payed it all.

It was late, but he really wanted to stay more with you, and invited you to go to his shack on the beach and finish the wine and conversation there. You accepted and you two went there together. You enjoyed a good wine together and talked about the sea and your lifes. He was in love with your farm stories.

In the end of the night he asked if you wanted to stay there and spend the night, because it was a long walk to the farm, but you refused. He understood and asked to take you there but you said that you would be fine and thanked him for the offer. He closed the door while you disappeared on your way to your house, and layed down in his bed thinking about your conversations... that night was his favorite of all nights.

• Harvey

He was planning this date for a while. He was too anxious to ask you out but there he goes. He calls you and invited you to come to his house at 8 p.m..

He prepared a dinner for you two, bought a whiskey and when you knocked on his door he welcomed you with a glass of the drink. The dinner was a homemade spaggethi with meatballs, really simple but made with all his love.

The room was cozy and comfortable. You talked about everything while you were eating, talked about his dream of becoming a pilot, about your farm and your days in Pelican Town.

When the date finished he took you to the door and said: "That night was really good. Thanks for coming... I loved our conversations". You wave to him while you were making your way to your farm. He closes the door when he couldn't see you anymore, with an smile on his face he laid down on his bed and he slept dreaming about you.

• Sam

You were on his room, he was playing his guitar while you watched. He asked you to sing some songs with him.

After some hours listening to music, you both get hungry and you decided to get a pizza. You both ate the pizza and talked about some of your favorite bands.

This wasn't exactly a planned date but it actually happened. It officially turned into a date when you were laughing together about some joke that you don't remember that well, but you do remember the time that, without warning, he put his hands on your neck and kissed you. It was a long and warm kiss. You felt his lips and tongue piercing and it made you melt.

The kiss ended and he was really embarrassed because it wasn't planned and he didn't know what to do. You calm him down by saying it was a really good kiss, he smiled at you and you both started laughing again.

You went home around 10 p.m and he thought about that kiss all night long.

• Sebastian

It was raining, so was a perfect day for going to the beach (you know he loves go there when is raining). He calls you and you go with him to the beach.

You sit on a towel that he brought for you both and, in a comfortable silence, you looked to the beautiful sea. You were just chilling until he start to talk: "The day I knew someone moved here, I was thinking why anyone would want to move to this uninteresting place... But now I'm happy that you moved here. You really brought some joy to me in this boring town".

Silence strikes again, and you layed by his side. He stretched his arm so you could lay comfortably and the both of you just stayed there until the night came.

You both went back to town and on your way to the hills, where his house is located, you saw a family of frogs under some bush. You went there, took some pictures and even took them in your hands to take the photos. Then you let them back under the bush and went to his house (he waved to the little frogs).

In his house, he laid on his bed, listening the sound of the rain and looking at the photos on his phone. Even though he didn' plan that to be a date, it turned out into a really nice day.

• Shane

He was on his usual spot, at the corner beside the fireplace, drinking a beer and waiting for you. He wasn't sure if you would come that night, after all, the both of you didn't plan to come together, Shane just wanted to see you.

He looked at the Saloon front door and there you are, back from some adventure at the mines or fishing... didn't matter, he was happy to see you. When you looked at him, he waved at you and you went to the side of the fireplace with him.

After some time talking, you decided to take a table so you and him could eat something and drink some beer together. You payed for the pizza and he payed for the beer, as you always do. You know that you never have to be afraid to talk to him, especially when it's about animals and his chicken Charlie (he really loves that chicken). He tells you some of his hens' stories and you tell him about your own beloved chickens and ducks.

It's late, and time went by quickly. The Saloon was about to close and you both needed to leave, but you wanted to stay with him longer so you moved the talk to your place. You got another cold beer for you and Shane and you continued the conversation you were having with him.

You got to your place and you both got a little drunk but that didn't prevent you from having one more beer and sitting on the couch to have a long talk. He smiled every time you said something, looking to his beer and then back to you. Shane didn't have the courage to kiss you, even though he wanted to (and you knew it), but you respected him. He has some anxiety issues and doesn't really know how to flirt like he did when he was younger, but he knows how to make you blush when he wants to.

So, it's time for him to go home, it's 2 a.m and you both have work tomorrow. You take him to the door while you laugh about some jokes he made and then said goodbye... but you couldn't let him go home without that..... You called him when he just went down the stairs and jumped on his arms while kissing him. His heart was racing, he couldn't believe that you really kissed him. You waved him goodbye and he turned to go to his home. That was the best night of his life.

[tkaulitzlvr]

I love your writing so much!! Could I request reader giving tom the silent treatment cause he did something and it goes like him getting irritated and then comfort and then smut ??

SILENT TREATMENT- T. KAULITZ

synopsis: refusing to talk to tom even days after he had forgotten about your date night, he begins to get frustrated, doing whatever it takes to get you to speak to him again.

content: little bit of angst, smut.

a/n: i love writing this kind of stuff omg, thank you for requesting!!

“jesus baby are you still not talking to me?” tom sighs, sitting down onto the couch beside me as i ignore him announcing that he is home, after spending the day at the studio. “you can’t still be mad?”

stupid question - of course i was. it was now tuesday, and i hadn’t spoken to him since saturday night. we had both agreed that we had been spending less time with each other, with tom so busy preparing to release his new album with the band. so, we had planned a small date night at home, which was going to involve ordering take-out and watching movies, maybe taking a bath together before bed. we had agreed on 6pm, giving him thirty minutes to begin the drive home, allowing for traffic.

so i had sat on our couch, my pyjamas on, all of his favourite snacks laid out on the table with a few of mine, waiting for him to come home. 6:04pm - maybe he had to stay behind at the studio for a few minutes, this happened sometimes, and it was usually out of his control.

6:17pm - it could be traffic, everybody else was leaving work at the same time, the roads were bound to be jammed, i can’t blame him for that.

6:32pm - he could’ve gone to the store? maybe he wanted to get some more snacks for tonight?

my mind was thinking of any excuse that it could, trying to convince myself that tom wouldn’t stand me up - we had had this night planned for over a week, and he seemed pretty excited about it. but as the popcorn on the coffee table began to get cold, my body aching from sitting in the same position for so long, i knew. i knew that he wasn’t going to show. my phone was silent, no text, no call coming through, at least letting me know if he was running late, or not able to come at all. no apology, no promise to make it up to me - absolutely nothing.

9:56pm - my eyes were growing heavy, no longer paying attention to the random movie on the screen, my hand lethargically dipping into the bag of skittles that were meant to be for tom, but i had given up on him coming home long ago, deciding to eat them for myself - it was better than them going to waste. my tired eyes suddenly shoot open when i hear the front door opening and closing, keys being dropped onto the table, and shoes being taken off. i roll my eyes, shaking my head and turning my attention back to the movie, not in the mood to speak to him at all.

“baby?” i hear him call out, his body appearing in the door frame of our living room.

silence. i stay quiet, ignoring him completely and gluing my eyes to the tv screen. he sighs, slowly walking towards me and sitting beside me, trying to wrap his arm around my shoulder, but i shrug him off.

“liebe…i am so sorry.” he apologises, taking my hand in his. i accept his touch, though i still refuse to look at him, way too furious to properly listen to his pointless apology. “the guys, they kept me back at the studio. we want to get this album perfect and i just, i lost track of time-”

“you lost track of time? are you fucking serious?” i finally snap, quickly taking my hand out of his, turning to look at him with my eyebrows furrowed, completely shocked at his shitty excuse. “could you not have texted me, at least let me know in advance? you’re an asshole.”

“look, i promise i’ll make it up to you. i’m really sorry baby.” he says, his voice soft.

“we had this planned for fucking weeks! you agree that we never spend time together, and then you don’t even come home when we plan something? you basically live at that damn studio and i’m sick of it! go back there, i don’t want to see you right now.” i scoff, turning away from him and getting up, turning the tv off and walking to our bedroom.

he quickly follows behind me, not giving up that easily. “come on baby, don’t be like this. i promise you, we can have a date night way better than this, i’ll take you somewhere real nice, yeah?” he suggests, standing in the doorway of the bathroom as i do my skincare, getting ready for bed.

“what so you can stand me up again? saying you got ‘carried away at the studio’ exactly like you do every fucking night? do you know what’s funny, i can’t even remember the last time we spent the day together.” i say, looking at him through the reflection in the mirror, his face dropping a little.

“schatz- look i’m sorry, okay? work has been really hard lately, just give me a chance and i’ll fix this, i swear.” he pleads, walking towards me and trying to put his arms around my waist from behind, but once again, i shrug him off.

“whatever, i’m too fucking tired for this shit.” i sigh, walking out of the bathroom and into our bedroom, switching the light out and leaving him in the dark. “i’m going to bed, do whatever you want.”

i climb into the covers, hearing him take off his clothes and crawl in beside me. he gets closer, trying to wrap his arms around my waist and spoon me as he usually would, but tonight, his touch is the last thing i want. in response, i move his hands away, shuffling to the end of the bed. he sighs in frustration, but accepts my silent request for space, laying flat on his back.

“i love you.” i hear him say from behind me, his voice slow and quiet.

i don’t respond, laying beside him, seeing his face drop a little at my silence. no matter how bad our fighting got, i would always tell him that i loved him, and he would do the same. but this time, i didn’t want to, tired of him throwing me aside.

that was how it had been since that day. i refused to speak to him, despite his constant attempts. he had tried everything, just flat out speaking to me, complimenting me, buying me my favourite snacks, giving me expensive gifts, even coming home early from the studio, but i didn’t budge, still not wanting to talk.

“please, meine liebe, you can’t ignore me forever.” he sighs, shuffling closer to me, beginning to plant slow and soft kisses on the bare skin of my neck, my body shivering at the sudden contact, not used to it as we hadn’t had any physical intimacy since that night, not even a small kiss or cuddle in bed, my stubbornness pushing him away each time.

“i said i was sorry, please forgive me baby.” he mutters against my neck, continuing to kiss it slowly, getting a little more sloppy with his movements.

i push him off me, my hands flat against his chest. he groans in frustration, becoming angry at my determination to keep this going.

“seriously, i don’t know how much longer i can go on like this. come on my love, please just forgive me.” he sighs, not giving up as he returns back to his position, his head in my neck.

he moves his hand to my waist, lifting my oversized t-shirt and caressing the smooth skin of my hips, testing the waters and waiting for me to push him away yet again. but i don’t. i let him carry on, his lips attaching to my neck once again, thumb running up and down my hip, but i know exactly what he wants, the way he gently uses his hold on me to move my body against his lower half giving me a pretty good idea.

“schatz…��� he mumbles, his sounds muffled into my skin, breathing against my neck slowly, his teeth slowly grazing against it. “let me make it up to you. let me show you how sorry i am, hm?”

my breathing hitches, my heart running ahead of my mind as i find myself unable to speak, feeling tom smirk against my neck as he realises that he has finally won. he gently turns my body and lays me down so that my back is flat against the couch, climbing on top of me and quickly pressing his lips against mine. he is eager, desperate to feel me against him, wanting to make up for the lost intimacy, kissing harder as a silent way to encourage me to kiss back. i finally do so, threading my hands through his dreads, pulling his cap off of his head before pulling him closer to me, feeling him smile against my lips.

“i love you.” he whispers against my lips, running his hands smoothly up and down my waist before continuing the kiss, not even giving me chance to respond as i am far too lost in the moment. his hands reach for the hem of my t-shirt, stopping for a second and breaking the kiss, looking into my eyes, waiting to see if i am okay with this. i nod my head and he smiles slightly, a cocky smirk on his face as he lifts the material up and over my head, studying the red lace bra i have on before impatiently reconnecting our lips.

he slips his tongue into my mouth, mine moving together with his, the kiss now heated and desperate, my hands moving to cup his face, bringing him closer towards me. i hear him reaching for his belt buckle, pulling away from the kiss to undo it as i take this as an opportunity to lift the large hoodie off of his body, revealing his toned frame, my hands instinctively running down his chest, feeling each muscle as he groans at the contact.

“what happened to you being so angry earlier, hm? haven’t seen you this desperate in a long time, i would’ve done this ages ago if i had known this is all it takes for you to forgive me.” tom says, enjoying the way i gaze upwards at him, my eyes filled with lust, completely different to the coldness i had showed him these last few days.

“who said anything about forgiving you?” i breathe out, looking into his eyes as my hands run down his back, enjoying the way i can tease him. “you haven’t done anything yet, and, who knows, maybe this will show me you aren’t sorry enough.”

“oh baby…” he mocks, slowly tugging my leggings down, leaving me in only my lingerie. he pauses after doing so, leaning downwards so that his lips are right next to my ear, gently sucking on it before speaking again. “i’m gonna fuck you so good that you won’t even remember why you were mad at me in the first place.”

my breathing hitches in my throat, my body feeling hot as his words are enough to make me cum right there on the spot, no need for him to touch me. his lips place a single kiss on the spot directly below my ear, nipping at the skin slowly, taking advantage of the way i angle my neck upwards, giving him more access.

but he doesn’t carry on for long. his lips move lower, starting at my collarbone, planting a few tender kisses there, moving to the flesh of my breasts that are on show, kneading the one that his mouth isn’t paying attention to with his hands, soon becoming tired of my bra still being on, wanting to feel every inch of me. his mouth still on my chest, he reaches behind me, undoing the clasp of my bra with one hand, throwing it somewhere on the floor - neither of us really caring where.

he moves backwards, staring at my breasts in front of him, his lips slightly parted, curving into a gentle smirk, his brown eyes full of desire, watching the way my chest moves up and down with each heavy breath i take.

he wastes no time in reattaching his lips, moving them to my nipples this time, taking them in his mouth and letting his teeth graze them lightly, my back arching in pleasure as i move my hands, using them to push his head further downwards.

“so fucking hot.” he mutters against them, paying each one attention before moving downwards. his lips begin to kiss my upper stomach, his eyes still staring into mine, never breaking eye contact as he crawls further down my body, making sure nothing goes untouched, until he reaches the hem of my panties.

his fingers tease the top of the material, slowly dipping inwards and caressing my lower abdomen, a quiet whine escaping my mouth as i become more and more desperate. he lifts the material upwards with his pointer and ring finger, letting it go as it snaps back into place, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

“please.” i breathe out, tired of his teasing as he has pretty clearly made his point, i just need to feel him inside me.

“please what?” he teases, his lips dangerously close to my inner thighs, planting a single kiss there, enjoying the way i squirm a little from the smallest of touches. “use your words, or i won’t know what you want baby.”

“please just touch me.” i sigh out, slightly embarrassed as i have to verbalise my needs, tom knowing full well what i want, loving how he has me at his mercy, willing to do anything if it means he will pleasure me.

“where?” he trails off, tugging my underwear down at an agonisingly slow pace, leaving the red lace on the floor. he kisses my inner thigh again, closer to my heat this time.

“here?” he asks, acting oblivious, getting closer and closer to the place i need him most.

i cannot even respond, my chest heaving up and down as i attempt to utter any sort of coherent speech, my mind too focused on the pleasure that i am so close to receiving to be able to do so.

“or…” he starts, moving his lips from my thigh and hovering directly over my clit, my heart racing as i anticipate his touch, finally where i want him. but, to my disappointment, he moves his head, placing a short kiss, directly above it. “here?”

he knows what he is doing, teasing me beyond belief, leaving me a complete mess, never having to wait this long to feel any kind of pleasure. i make eye contact at him, seeing him already looking upwards at me, a proud smirk tugging on his lips whilst he uses his hands to spread my thighs apart. i rest my head back against the couch again, an exasperated sigh escaping my parted lips.

“stop fucking playing and just-”

my needy rambling is soon cut off by a loud moan as his tongue quickly collides with my clit, his hands pressing into my inner thighs, prying them apart, the pressure he is applying definitely leaving marks, but i am too hazy to care, my mind lost in pure satisfaction. he uses his finger to slowly enter me, my mouth falling open as he picks up a steady pace, his tongue never leaving my clit as all i can do is cry out, incoherent curse words escaping my mouth, tom lowly breathing into me as my release is fast approaching, his slow torment before meaning that it really didn’t take much to get me there.

“fuck- don’t stop.” i let out, this signalling to him that i am close, my climax within arms reach, my hips beginning to grind against his face, yearning to let go of the knot forming in my stomach.

my head falls backwards, back arching off of the couch, seconds away from letting go, tom only speeding up his pace, but, before i can even release, he suddenly stops. my head shoots up in confusion, forehead glistening with sweat, more frustrated than ever.

“tom what the fuck?” i whine, pulling his body upwards so that his face is inches from mine. “why’d you stop, i was so fucking close!”

“be patient baby.” he whispers, planting a soft and quick kiss to my lips, reaching downwards and pulling his boxers down, letting them join the rest of our clothes scattered around the living room. “i said i would make it up to you, so that’s what i’m going to do, no rush.”

he rests both his arms at either side of my head, his hands positioned above it as he starts slowly stroking my hair, dipping his head downwards as he meets my lips, the kiss messy and heated. i am too lost within it to notice one of his hands slipping downwards, taking his dick in it as he positions it at my entrance, a soft whine muffling into the kiss from my lips.

he continues kissing me as he slowly slides in, stretching me out completely, my body never getting used to his size despite the countless times we have done this. he stops kissing me for a second, his forehead pressed against mine, his dick about halfway in.

“you okay?” he asks, wiping a single tear that i hadn’t even realised had fallen from my cheek.

“yeah…keep going.” i reply, placing both hands on his neck and pulling him back downwards, reconnecting our lips as he continues to move inside me until he bottoms out, so deep that i swear i feel him in my stomach. i wince a little, trying to see the pain through, the pleasure building up little by little whilst he stays still inside of me, letting me adjust, his lips still working against mine.

“move.” i manage to say into the kiss, tom pulling halfway out before sliding back inwards, my eyes squeezing shut as he builds up a steady rhythm, moving in and out of me at a slow pace.

“faster.” i say, the pain quickly subsiding, leaving me feeling nothing but pure pleasure. he wastes no time, now thrusting in and out of me at a much faster pace, low grunts emitting from his mouth as he moves his head, kissing my neck slowly, running his tongue over where he had been sucking, soothing the marks a little.

“fuck- you feel so good…” he groans, taking my hips and grabbing a stable hold of me, kneading the flesh and allowing himself to thrust in and out of me easier. “missed this so much, missed you so bad baby.”

all i can do is let out a barely audible ‘mhm’, clinging to his back and running my hands down the soft skin, feeling his muscles flex with each strong movement. my body is flush against his chest, moving in sync with his own, chasing my release as he does the same.

he moves his head, resting his forehead on my own, staring into my eyes as he fucks me, his mouth open, breathing heavy, face glistening with sweat as his pace never falters. i watch the way his eyebrows furrow and eyes flutter shut when i clench around him, knowing exactly how to get him to his climax, his tip brushing over my spot as he helps me get to my own, the familiar knot soon forming in my stomach.

“i’m getting close baby, you close?” he breathes out, his hips stuttering a little, letting me know that he can’t hold on much longer - and neither can i.

“mhm, fuck- please tom, don’t stop…” i cry out, eyes rolling to the back of my head, breath hitching as i am almost there, seconds away from finding my release, chasing it desperately as my hips begin to meet his thrusts, lazily hitting his pelvis as he lets out small moans.

“where do you want it?” he asks, his movements slowly becoming irregular. “fuck- i can’t hold it, where?”

“inside.” i say, tom saying nothing in response as i feel his dick twitch inside of me, followed by his cum coating my walls. his head falls backwards, chest heaving up and down as his eyes screw shut, mouth open as a long groan leaves his mouth, his hips moving at a slow pace, riding out his own high, this triggering my own release.

tears roll down my face as the pleasure takes over, the feeling so strong i question wether i am on the verge of passing out, or, perhaps i am in heaven, the sex almost too good to be true.

he collapses on top of me, his breathing loud and heavy, bodies glistening with sweat as we lay in silence, tom stroking my hair, moving the loose strands that had fallen onto my face.

“did that show you how sorry i am?” he breathes out, slowly pulling out of me and caressing my waist, looking into my eyes as i manage a lazy smile.

“you need to be sorry more often.” i say, holding his face in my hands as my body lays limply below him. “if it means you fuck me like that then you can mess up every single day.”

he grins slightly, kissing my collarbone gently, looking upwards at me as our eyes meet.

“seriously though. i’m really sorry baby. please forgive me.” he says, moving so that his face is hovering over mine, his thumb caressing my cheek.

i smile upwards at him, placing a soft kiss on his lips as he kisses back, pulling away and kissing my forehead quickly, sitting upright and pulling me into his lap, my legs wrapping around his torso, arms around his neck.

“i love you.” he says, bringing me in closer to his embrace. “please say it back, you haven’t these past few days and i fucking hated it.”

he lets out a small laugh, but i can tell that it genuinely hurt him, guilt beginning to rise in my stomach.

“you know how stubborn i can be, but you were also a massive asshole.” i say, looking upwards at him, his eyes already gazing into mine. “i love you though, you know i do.”

not even bothering to get dressed, or go to our bedroom, we both fall asleep in each other’s arms, silently promising to never let our arguments get to that point, although we now knew that we had a way to fix it, no matter how bad it got.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[bakuslove]

OUR LITTLE SECRET

﹒ॱ˖ 🖇️ FEATURING. pro hero!bakugo x f!reader

﹒ॱ˖ ☆ CONTENT. fluff, sfw, established relationship, pro hero!bakugo, fem pronouns are used for reader themes of marriage ahead WC. 1.096

﹒ॱ˖ 💬 SYNOPSIS. privacy's hard to come by nowadays, all thanks to social media. luckily, you and your darling have found a way cheat the system. at least... a little bit.

It’s not easy being the girlfriend of one of the highest ranking pro heroes in the world but you’d gotten used to a majority of the daily inconveniences. 

Paparazzi somehow finding you no matter how many layers you wore to cover your face that day, crazy fans who were just a little too friendly following you from a distance as you made your way to and from the supermarket, the constant, and I do mean constant, private message requests and comments and responses on posts from fans and haters alike on every form of social media you own. It was hard to keep track of, to say the least. 

Sometimes you’d forgo using your phone entirely just to avoid the snarky comments or prying eyes and questions of loyal fans. And that was just from those who wanted to know about you. Bakugo’s fans were far more insatiable.

However, there were moments you two were able to bask in your solitude together. Peace and quiet filled your dining room and Katsuki stood over the stove, keeping an eye on a frying pan filled with vegetables as he seasoned a bit of pork you laid out earlier for dinner.

You sat by his side as you always did, phone in your hand as you snacked on whatever he handed you in the midst of his cooking. Your phone was buzzing with notifications just as always, but you did your best to ignore them as usual. At least, until a certain headline caught your eye. 

You tapped on it, waiting as anticipation caused your knee to bounce. There’s no way they saw it... right? 

Your last trip out with Katsuki had been two nights ago when he had planned an extravagant dinner just for the two of you at that new expensive place that opened up just down the street. It was the best night you two had spent together in a very long time, no thanks to his ever-changing, bustling hero schedule. 

Your eyes widen as the page finally loads and you zoom in on the little detail everyone seemed to be talking about. 

It was blurry to say the least and you had to really be looking for it to make it out, but it definitely difficult to ignore now with the bright red circle photoshopped over your hand. 

Fans had noticed the little silver band conveniently placed on the ring finger of your left hand and seem to have been going insane about its implications since the last time you and Katsuki had been out in public. Which you were sure had to be about... three days ago. 

A groan leaves your lips as you scroll through the comments of fans and haters alike wondering if you and Katsuki were finally planning on tying the knot or if it was all just a coincidence. Either way, many of the comments further down the line seemed to speculate more, pointing out that your boyfriend hadn’t been seen wearing anything on his hand, and while many pointed out that he probably wouldn’t be so careless with an engagement ring while on the job, various pictures of him in casual dress since then proved that he still wasn’t wearing a ring.

Too bad they didn’t spark conversation about the new black chain he frequently sported around his neck. Katsuki was rather proud of it, seeing as it was the newest addition to his daily wardrobe. 

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki calls from the foot of your bed, and you’re blessed with the sight of him fresh from the shower, a fresh towel hanging low on his hips as he drys his hair with a smaller towel that drapes across his broad shoulders. 

How was this man, your man, so breathtakingly beautiful. 

“Nothing, just... the media,” you huff, opting to let your screen grow dark before placing it on the nightstand to your left. 

Bakugo only raises an eyebrow as his eyes trail along your exposed legs, a common indicator you’ve learned to mean he wants you to continue.

“They saw,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest as you gauge his reaction. But, instead of him rolling his eyes in annoyance or grumbling about ‘never getting any goddamn privacy these days’, he simply runs the towel over his damp hair one last time before hanging it back onto its rack. As if he’d ever leave even a towel out of place. 

“They were gonna find out anyway, not let’s just make sure we don’t give ‘em any more than they need, yeah?” 

The bed shifts as he crawls onto the sheets next to you, his large hands finding the soft plush of your thighs as he pulls you against him. You’ll never get over just how perfectly you fit against him. The way his arms could so easily wrap you in his embrace, keeping you safe and warm each and every time. 

“Well, at least we don’t have to hide the fact that we’re engaged,” you smile, making a quite note about how all of your fans will probably want to know the details of just how you got engaged.

“That’s why it’s our little secret,” he muses, a smirk morphing onto his soft, pink lips before they meld against your own. 

You hum against him as his hands move to rest on your hips, the rough pads of your thumbs sliding along your sides as he effortlessly clears your mind of everything and everyone else in existence. Just as he always does. 

“Let ‘em wonder, those nosy ass extras,” he breaths once you pull away, and you hum again in agreement, watching as Bakugo finally slips off his black chain over his head- he only ever took it off while sleeping -and you smile giddily as you spot the wedding ring it sports. 

It’s a simple thing, a black band without a lot of shine or sparkle, but it fit him perfectly in your eyes. If there was one thing your fans got right, it's that his ring was a little harder to spot since it usually hid underneath the neck of his t-shirt and hero costume. Bakugo would be damned if he entered the field without your ring somewhere on his body, and with his quirk being so dependent on his hands, it only seemed logical to keep it on a chain around his neck. 

“Sweet dreams, Mr. Bakugo,” you smile as he places a kiss to your temple before pressing his body against yours under the sheets.

“G’night, Mrs. Bakugo.”

If only your fans knew...

[rocketqueen1989x]

Teddy bear

SlashXreader

(A short one)

warnings : fluff

📍: LA

⏰:10:00pm

1990

***

The sound of the rain hit the bedroom window heavily as me and my boyfriend laid on our shared king size bed. His dark beautiful soft curls brushed through my fingers.

Slash was next to me just laying there soundly with his head on my chest. little snores escaped his lips.

he looked adorable. i could see his full face since I brushed back all of his dark curls and, he looked so peaceful. His long skinny and tatted arm was over my waist hugging me tightly towards him. one of his legs was over mine and my other leg was over his

we were proper snuggled into each other. he felt like a big teddy bear. he was so warm and my face mushed into his big bush of curls. He smelt so good. I could smell my vanilla and coconut shampoo in his hair

The room was very dim and a candle was just one of the lights in the room. The tv was in the corner and playing some shitting documentary about nurses delivery this baby

nothing else was the tv at all. boring as fuck

i looked down at my boyfriend with a soft expression on my face. He moved his head lightly and moved his face more up. I could see him more better now

his link plumped lips were almost in a pout. his black lashes were so so long. I’m actually quite jealous of his lashes

his face structure was so good. his eye brows were a little bushy at the start but got thinner towards the tails. at the end of his brow. his smooth tanned skin looked so beautiful as the candle flickered onto his skin every now and then

Slash was still in his clothes from band rehearsals. He had on his black shorts and old shirt.

Slash came around 2 hours ago and the first thing he did was lay down next to me and fell asleep. I didn’t even get to ask how it was or anything. he only asked me how my day went , I told him and boom

he was flat out. since then I have been watching this documentary on the tv. His guitar case was at the end of the bed still were he had left it just near our tangled feet

And one thing about slash …

he sleeps like fucking log! he’s such a deep sleeper. Once this dude is asleep …he’s asleep for good

and he weighs like a brick when he sleeps too which always comes in handy if you’re desperate for a piss or gotta go answer the door

i smiled softly looking down at my lover. he looked so cute

my fingers traced along his jaw stroking gently and slowly. “Mhmmm” slash groaned sleepily and I leaned down pecking his cheek

“so beautiful” I whispered moving to his lips and gently pecking them.

“I love you so much , so so much “ I whispered on his cheek and his scent filled my nose. I could smell and hint of cigarettes on him. Of course

another hint of his aftershave and the smell of my shampoo also lingered around him. My finger twirled around lock of his curl on the back of head and he seemed to be enjoying it

Slash let out a little long breath from his parted lips while he done that he moved his face deeper into my tits.

“my beautiful boy “ i softly but most quietly whispered to him.

i love this man so much. I’m so in love with him and he’s all mine

[junedenim]

2009

beneath the boardwalk, part 7 (series masterlist)

secret door

warnings: a tad angsty, a tad fluffy, a tad smutty, a sweet tooth, etc.

word count: 10.5k

Alex and I shared his childhood bed. I spent Christmas and New Year's with my family in Bath, but I made the trip up to Sheffield on the 4th of January for Alex's birthday on the 6th. It was a rather unremarkable birthday but it remains one of the coziest. Alex and I thought about going out to drink but his mum made him a cake. After we ate the cake, we were too tired so we played a game of Cluedo with his parents and went to bed.

After this birthday, I realized I enjoyed Alex's birthday more than my own. My birthdays have had the long tradition of ending in dramatics or sadness or just plain boring. The simplicity of Alex's birthdays has always brought me comfort, maybe because he doesn't want a party. He doesn't want to do anything. He just wants to relax and play Cluedo.

When we went to bed that night, we were practically stacked on top of each other. He offered to sleep on the floor because, although we had done the twin bed shuffle before, it never equalled the best sleep. I denied him and said I would. He denied me so I laid half my body on top of him to not fall off the bed.

I combed his hair back. It had grown out in the desert but was softer than ever. His mum made him get a trim, which tamed up the hair, making it fall perfectly as opposed to his faux sideburn days. "How's 23 feel?"

He shrugged and reached a hand up to push my curtain-like hair behind my ear. My hair was getting long too, which I was thankful for because I didn't want to resemble Alex too much. I had grown my fringe out in the desert. My hair looked shaggier than ever but I kind of liked the roughness of it. Maybe that was the part that resembled Alex's hair. "No different than 22," he said.

"I guess we've passed all the fun ages," I sighed. "We're truly adults now."

Alex smiled softly. "That feels weird. I know we've done all these adult things, but actually being referred to as one is still weird."

"I can always account for you being older than me. That's all that matters."

He shook his head, amused by me. "Those 3 months mean a lot to you."

"Yeah, they must have been the worst 3 months of your life."

"Why?"

"'Cause you were living in a world without me."

He kissed me and then said, "That would truly be." A kiss to the cheek. "Hell." A kiss to the neck. "On." A kiss to the right collarbone. "Earth." A kiss to the right breast.

*

In the latter half of January, the band went on a small Australian & New Zealandian tour. I went because what else would I do? The majority of the tour was for the Big Day Out Festival which was hosted in Sydney, Melbourne, Gold Coast, Adelaide, Perth, and Auckland.

Their first show back in Wellington came with the debut of some Humbug songs, which I had already known of through recording and rehearsals. But seeing "Pretty Visitors" live for the first time ever was life-changing, even if Alex did stand awkwardly with his hands in his jacket's pockets. Like Pinocchio came to life, still not adapted to his new body.

I used the label-comped airfare travel to explore rather than attend most of their concerts. The dates were compacted close together so I was the only one out of our crew that got to defrost from the British winter in the Australian sun.

In February, the band was due to return to California to finish the album. Late one night in Perth, Alex asked me, "Are you coming back?"

It had been a deflected point like most things. Pushed off until someone or something made the decision for me. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to go back to London alone. I didn't want to be in California alone. Ultimately, the business card from Opal stuck in my wallet tipped the scale.

"I think I want to finish it out," I told him.

Excitement flashed in his eyes but he stayed still. "Are you sure? I'll be back before you know it. Everything will be fast. You won't even miss me."

I tugged at him. "Of course, I'll miss you. And you'll be off on tour soon and I like the idea of going with you but you know I can't do a whole tour with you. I have to be independent."

The greatest accomplishment in my life might be Alex's pride in me. I don't know how I earned his belief in me. It was there right from the moment we met and it never dissipated, even when we broke up. His smile flashed with pride then, small, but always proud in the stances I made for myself.

"I know," he said. "And I love being with you but I like hearing what you get up to when I'm away. And it'll be more flexible this time since you're out of school."

"And, maybe, I could get some work out in LA. Just freelance or something. I feel like I just gave up last time and didn't bother with a job. You know, me and complaining."

"Shush, you're opinionated. It's how I like my women."

"Women?"

He corrected, "Woman."

I chuckled and slotted my head on his shoulder. "I think maybe I'll get in touch with Opal. Maybe one day write for the LA Times. Would that make me a traitor?"

"No," he laughed, "just maybe a red coat." The skin near his eyes crinkled up, pleased with his joke. I prayed to make those wrinkles become permanent, for him to live in a lifetime of laughter, specifically from my jokes but I do get a special funny feeling when he's laughing at his own humor. It's like he's patting himself on the back, something he does physically do.

There was a question of giving in too much to Alex. I was chasing a boyfriend through the world, which was okay because I was traveling and exploring too and I wanted to be with him but I always worried about my association with him—clinging too tightly, representing an image of somebody who lived off of him. At times (and eventually), it consumed me.

*

In our rented LA home there was a bay window, which didn't look out on much other than the road and the opposing house. While Alex was at the studio, I sat there and wrote. By that point, I had compiled my essays in a file I called "LA Times." My intention wasn't to submit the works to the LA Times—I had yet to hear back from Opal on any openings—but it was simply something in the works—a digital diary of those past few Californian months.

I had begun submitting work and didn't hear back. I thought of getting a part-time job or babysitting gig, but it felt like a waste of my degree, and Alex had plenty of funds to go around.

Opal and I went out for drinks and it was the first time I went out in LA, independent from Alex. It was fast fun. Opal talked in excessive sweetness but was snarky in response to any disparity toward her.

She seemed so worldly but had never lived anywhere outside of LA. She wasn't any form of a writer but she worked with writers all day and asked if she could look at my work. I was shyly reluctant but she tugged it out of me. Some small 500-word piece I liked.

She gushed about it (and still does) insisting on me giving her more of my writing. I slowly trickled more pieces to her before she accumulated enough to give to her friend, Jackson Ferrera.

Opal began coming over to our house. If Alex was out late, we'd have dinner together. We drink together most Friday nights. We smoked a joint together once and she laughed so much she peed herself.

Opal and Alex had an interesting relationship. Opal paid compliments to his appearance like she did with everyone but it never verged on sexual or romantic. She was an observer like all of us, but she didn't write about it.

She'd also mock him as most girls do together behind their boyfriend's back. All remaining affectionate and loving. The kind of way I talked about Stacey. She was my pestering little sister who was also my youthful partner-in-crime.

"I love your hair, hon!" She said once to Al after he returned home to us watching Glee on the couch.

"Oh." He patted down the sides of his hair as if he forgot it was on his head. "I guess."

He left the room and Opal turned to me and said, "That man can not take a compliment."

I laughed and shrugged. "I've tried my best. I think he thinks you're lying to him."

"Why?!" Opal's mouth lay agape. "I'm not a liar."

I stared at her speculatively. "Everyone's a liar."

"I'm not." She placed her hand on her chest, insisting to me, "My mom told me to never lie."

I don't know if Opal has ever lied, not expansively. Not even little white lies. If you asked her how her day was, she'd tell you honestly. Maybe she fibbed and told half-truths, but she'd never fake compliment you.

She was judgy. On the other side of her kindness was someone who would honestly tell you that you look ugly in that dress. Her job seemed like her destiny, paid to have an opinion because she wasn't designed for fake niceties. I appreciated and needed the quality. It was a confidence boost and a humbling force.

*

For my birthday, Alex took me to Big Sur. We flew up to San Jose and Alex drove us down to our lodge where I fell asleep and woke up 23.

In the early morning, we walked along Pfeiffer Beach where the water was too cold and dangerous to swim in and the wind blew so hard it blinded us. We abandoned the beach, had lunch, and walked Point Lobos, which felt like we'd walked into a dream. The water waved its blues and the wind waved through the trees just right to create the perfect breeze.

"You know," I said, "this is the first trip we've ever been on. Just you and me."

Alex bowed his head and said, "Suppose that's my fault. At least we've done Wicklow."

"I know, but it doesn't really count. We probably wouldn't have gone if we weren't in Dublin." We both walked with our hands in our pockets and it was easy to think of all those talks we'd had before with our hands stuffed into our jeans pockets.

Alex smiled, his eyes covered with sunglasses, and his hair framing his face. "I'm making up for it now. Best I can." He placed one of his hands on the small of my back; a reassuring touch. Alex often felt insufficient and I wasn't the best at combating that doubt. I know he's carried guilt for self-claimed selfishness. If we were both older I wouldn't have tolerated this in the manner I did at that age. I never cared that he wanted things because he wanted me to be a part of them. However, there was always a sense that Alex had to "make up" for what he had done. I don't know if that hurt me or pleased me.

When we finished the trail we had to go back to our lodge because Alex had slipped down a hill and cut a hole into his jeans. Believe me, very funny, I wish I had it to submit to Funniest Home Videos but alas...

Alex drove for the majority of the trip. I wasn't very good at driving in America. It confused my brain. I reached over, brushing a chunk of his hair behind his ear like he had done for me countless times. "You think you're going to keep it long?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Do you think I should?"

"If you like it," I permitted.

He glanced over and gave me a look. "Does that mean you don't like it?"

I hummed. I had never really thought about it. "No. I like it," I decided. "It makes you look older. I think if you had the same cut as college you'd still look like you were 17."

"You don't think I've aged at all?"

"It's hard to tell. I've never been away long enough to notice a difference. What about me? Do I look older?" I batted my eyelashes.

He chuckled at my brazen show. "You look 23 to me."

*

I got a call from Jackson Ferrera a week after my birthday. I didn't know who he was and almost didn't answer the call when it rang at 10:30 AM, still in bed. Alex had left an hour or two earlier, kissing my forehead and unintentionally waking me up. We mumbled, "Bye, baby" to one another before he left and I drifted back to sleep.

I was in the shower when Alex returned home. It was somewhere around 5 PM and a Wednesday and I hadn't left the house once. I was in the middle of washing my hair when I heard the bathroom door open and my worries about this becoming a scene from Psycho dissipated when Alex said, "Hey, honey." Isn't it cute? We call each other honey now. It originated from Opal. We imitated her calling everyone "honey" with one another until we actually just ended up calling each other "honey" all the time.

"Hey," I called out over the shower. Alex discarded his clothes and joined me in the shower. We had started doing that more often too. We didn't often have sex in the shower either. I mean, it did happen, but we decided to shower together more in a chaste quality. Alex has the ability to wash your hair in the same way it feels at a salon. It's complete bliss. "How was your day?"

He was my little dog with his long hair getting wet in the shower and sticking to his face. He let the water run over it completely before pushing it back and out of his face. "Good. Fine," he answered. "I feel like I've been hunched over all day." He pecked my lips, a domestic greeting.

I reached down for my conditioner and told him, "I'll rub your back before bed." We might as well be the old married couple with aching backs and a stay-at-home woman willing to soothe them. I don't like to view us as old-fashioned. We were unconventional. British desert Californians, who were a musician and a pretend writer.

Alex took the bottle out of my hand, taking the conditioner into his hands, acting his role of hair masseuse. "You're my savior. I'd have a humpback if it weren't for you."

I shrugged as I turned for him to rub the product in my hair. "I like taking care of you. Shall I have dinner on the table too?"

He scoffed, "God, no. I'd be dead of food poisoning if you did that."

I laughed because I wasn't offended by not having any cooking skills. Alex understood that and has never forced a change on that. "You can't blame me. My parents don't know how to cook either."

"Your parents don't know how to do a lot of things you can do. Excuses, excuses." He clicked his tongue and I giggled as he squeezed one of my butt cheeks. "What did you get up to while I was gone?"

I sighed, turning back around to face him, a big smile plastered on my face. "Okay, well, don't freak out because I don't know anything yet."

Alex immediately grabbed my hands, nearing a panic. "What?"

I pushed his hands down. "Calm down," I instructed. "It's not that big of a deal." He relaxed and awaited an answer. "So, I got this call from someone Opal knows. A guy named Jackson Ferrera—"

"Oh, god, Janie, you're leaving me, aren't you?" Alex joked, turning his head away in dramatics, pushing me away, unable to bear the sight of me. "I always knew it."

I slapped his arms away. "Will you shut up? Listen." He looked at me normally and nodded his head. "Opal gave him some of my writing and he's this literary agent and he wants to talk about maybe him representing me—"

I was interrupted by Alex's excitement. "Are you serious? Like a book or something?"

I was reluctant to say anything, not wanting to get his hopes up, my hopes up like speaking it aloud would cancel out any possibilities. "I don't know yet. I haven't even met the guy yet."

"But you're going to?" Alex clutched my waist, his grip filled with giddiness.

I nodded, trying to fight this big smile. "This Friday at noon. And I don't know what it would be yet. He could just recommend me for some stupid literary agent job."

Alex quickly shook his head. "No way, Janie. You're going to make a book."

"I'm not going to make a book," I insisted.

But he fought back, confident as always, "You're going to make a book."

"Don't jinx anything. He might just help me submit some of my pieces to some higher-up magazines. Who knows, by the end of the year, I could be in the New Yorker?"

He scoffed, "You're better than the New Yorker. They'll be begging for your work."

I bumped into him. "Don't say that. I'd love to write for the New Yorker. I'd be happy writing for Playboy at this point."

Alex wiggled his eyebrows. "They do have some really good articles."

I pinched his side and told him to shut it. He wrapped me up in a hug and a dramatic rain—well, shower—kiss. Everything felt like it was landing in place and California did really seem to be a place where dreams came true and all that nonsense that I'll make fun of for the rest of this book but for this one moment, I'll believe to be true. Then, Alex got shampoo in his eye.

"Ow! Fuck, fuck, fuck." He clutched his left eye and doubled over. The water and shampoo suds still pouring down his face.

I grabbed his shoulder and asked if he was okay. He insisted on being fine but his hand remained on his eye and he grinded his teeth down before I managed to pull him out of the shower without tripping.

I sat him on the toilet seat, dripping wet, and shampoo still a mess in his hair. "Let me see," I said, drying his face off.

He waved me off. "No, no, I'm fine." His hand remained on his eye with a refusal to remove it.

"Al," I said and tugged at his wrist. He dropped his hand and slowly opened his eye, bloodshot and pink. "Oh, Jesus."

"What? Did it fall out?" He joked.

I snorted a laugh and began searching for eye drops. "It's dried up, that's all."

Then came the struggle of actually getting the eye drops into Alex's eye because he refused to keep his eye open. He kept muttering, "Ow, ow, ow" as each eye drop flooded his eyeball.

Later that night, after I fell asleep in front of American Idol, Alex must have moved me to our bedroom or I slept-walked there. Alex said I did that a few times. When I woke, the red digital clock on my bedside read 2:32 AM. I dug my face into the pillow, pissed I had woken up in the middle of the night. I turned my head and came to the realization Alex was missing if he was ever in bed, to begin with.

I padded across our cold wooden floors barefoot in the dark before I saw the back patio light on and the faint shadow of Alex. I stepped one foot out and saw him, notebook in lap, cigarette in hand, gazing out onto the dark backyard, deep in thought.

"You shouldn't be smoking with your eye," I said hoarsely.

His head tilted back to look at me and he had a soft smirk on his face. "I'll live. Just needed something to relax."

"Take an edible then."

He vibrated off laughter and tapped the ash off his cigarette. "I'll find a different excuse."

I kept one foot outside and one inside, asking, "Do you want some company?"

He shook his head, insisting, "No, no. You sleep."

I was hesitant to move. "You sure?"

Alex nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Just finishing up some writing. I'll be in soon."

"Okay."

I returned to bed and fell asleep before Alex came back but when I woke up in the late morning he was asleep beside me. I wondered what Alex wrote. The beginning verses to "Stuck on the Puzzle" or if he never picked up his pen to begin with? Maybe I read too much into it but Alex never had qualms about me keeping him company while he wrote and our late-night smokes were ritualistic at that point. I believed he thought about something else. Me. Something too personal to share.

With both of us, those secrets that we kept from one another were exclusively worries. I can't help but think Alex knew what was eventually to come from my contact with Jackson. I can't help but think he worried. He always worried, suffering in silence. I screamed about everything and he sat with it, let it stir and brew for days, months, years. It was a habit of our 20s. But Alex always seemed to know, a habitual psychic and I was the palm in his hand.

*

It didn't end up being a book, not at first, but we did a trial period in which I submitted to Jackson who began shopping my pieces around to publishers. I was terrified and didn't tell anyone other than Alex and Opal for fear it would fall through and fail. Jackson felt confident and I supposed that helped, although I couldn't comprehend a world where I wrote a book, even though, for years, I had already written books in my notebook.

I tried not to think about it much. We were coming up on Alex going back on tour again and the question of whether to stay in LA rose, which was really just whether I would. I didn't like the thought of being in LA without Alex. I found the city rather unappealing but I didn't know where I'd return to. London was an option but I don't know how at home I would've felt there. It's cheesy to say Alex is my home because he's a person and I found that statement to be rather exaggerated. In those days, I just felt more comfortable wherever he was, maybe because I was so aimless myself, but I knew that I finally found a direction to go in.

One of my pieces did end up in The Village Voice. Alex paid to have a print copy sent, and he framed it. It embarrassed me so much that I stuffed it into drawers when we had guests over.

One night, we went to a party on some random Monday and sat on the uncomfortable fancy chairs, drinking cocktails. Alex had an Old Fashioned, I had a Cosmopolitan. It was an affair with some elegance, though I can't remember what it was actually for. We both vowed not to get drunk because we couldn't be hungover on a Tuesday.

I had my hand on Alex's knee and he had his arm around the back of my chair. I think the dinner they served was chicken but I don't remember. It wasn't very good either way.

"Do you think I should get my Master's?" I asked Alex.

He sipped his drink with his left hand and lightly tapped my shoulder with his right. "Why would you do that?"

I shrugged and picked up my Cosmo, trying to be Carrie Bradshaw in hopes it would get me a job as luxurious as hers. Or maybe just the clothes and the apartment. "Something to do. I like the idea of going to school here."

Alex's brows furrowed as he looked over at me. "But you hated school."

"That's not true."

He chuckled. "J, you complained about it all the time."

Maybe I did. I don't remember. It's like when people have babies and they forget how hard labour was so their bodies trick them into having more kids. "I liked the structure of it. Plus, a Master's would allow a more flexible schedule and you'll be away on tour soon so it'd be something to do."

Alex shook his head. "I don't think you'd like it."

I frowned. "Maybe I would."

"I mean..." Alex searched for what to say. "I just think you're getting somewhere with your writing and you're running away from it."

I rested my head on my hand. "Maybe."

Alex reached out and pushed my hair out of my face. "Whatever you do you'll be great at. Just do what you love, okay?"

His smirk put me on edge and I raised my eyebrow. "What? Like you?"

"Huh?" His face looked puzzled, worried that he had offended me somehow.

"I love you so you want me to do you?"

He threw his head back in laughter. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Janie."

*

The whole Master's idea felt foolish. So, I decided to do it, except it was March and way past the time for applications. In the meantime, I tried to figure out what I would do while Alex was away. I felt I should have wanted to leave Los Angeles after all my bitching and moaning, but something drew me to stay. There was a new friend in Opal but I didn't have any job prospects through her or Jackson. Freelance could fit but I didn't want it to fit. The idea of me writing a book burrowed more inwardly to my mind as Jackson stopped mentioning book deals and directed me more toward staff writing jobs to get my name out there.

But I felt that LA had wrapped its warmth around me and suffocated me long enough to want to stay. I liked America and I liked the city, but I also had a visa to worry about. I was over on a tourist Visa and since all work I had done was freelance, I was paid as if I was located in England still. I could fly back and stay for another 180 days or I could get a work visa, which meant getting a job.

That's when Condé Nast appeared. Jackson had unofficially become my unpaid job seeker, doing it solely for me as a favour. I suspected he felt bad for not achieving a book deal and decided to help me out. The Condé Nast position was for a product writer and reviewer. The issue was I had no history with a full-time writing job, but either Jackson had connections or they felt pity for me, too, so I got the job.

So, it wasn't LA, it would be New York.

Alex loved the idea and boasted about it to everyone, kissing my cheek after each statement, and squeezing me to his side. As for New York, he simply said, "It's your turn."

He would be away on tour anyway, so it didn't matter much other than that he would crash at whatever housing I picked in New York. We flew to New York in June. I had never been to New York in the summer. I had never been with Alex in New York.

Usually on our excursions, I dragged Alex around the town and up the hills. In New York, Alex dragged me to the Strand, Chelsea Hotel, the Mudd Club, the Transit Museum, and, most importantly, the turtle pond in Central Park.

Beside the box turtles and red-eared sliders, Alex and I rested against a rock as they padded their way shoreside. He wore a baby blue shirt and picked at his jeans, his mannerisms the same as when I spotted him across the room. "Do you remember when you used to have writing on your jeans?"

He looked up at me, smiling, pushing his hair behind his ears, pounds of fluff. "Yeah."

"What was written on them?" Those blurs of red markings and my wish to know those depths of his soul as if what he was really thinking was written on the knees of his jeans.

He shrugged and almost shamefully said, "Just song lyrics. Strokes and stuff."

"You wrote on them?"

"Yeah."

"I always figured that your mates had written on them. My Converses used to be covered in Joanie's handwriting and hearts." I hadn't thought of her for a long time. Nothing in America reminded me of Wakefield and so Joanie never came to mind.

Alex broke me out of my thoughts, asking, "Can I write on your trainers?"

I raised my eyebrows. "On my new shoes? Can I write on your jeans?"

"Sure." He pulled a pen from his pocket and handed it to me. His quickness made me hesitate but I pulled the pen from his fingers and thought of what to write. I could've drawn a penis but I wasn't that cruel. The black pen was faint against the dark blue denim but I repeated my sketching until the letter was clear enough. I wrote my name because I couldn't think of anything else. What's more beautiful than a person's name? Gross.

Alex seemed to like it, a grin upturning on his face, and an eyebrow raised against me. "Why don't you draw a heart around it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Do you want me to put an arrow through it too?"

He laughed but said, "Sure." I didn't add the heart or arrow. It would be too cheesy and ruin my beautiful cursive name. I returned the pen to him and he tapped his hand over the writing. "With me every step of the way."

I giggled, both embarrassed and charmed. "You gonna get it tattooed?"

I joked but he took it shockingly seriously. "Do you want me to?"

I bolded my eyes and tilted my head. "Stop," I chastised him. "I'm not trying to brand you. I won't even let you write on my shoes and you're willing to get me permanently on your body?"

"Those are nice shoes," he countered.

"You've got a nice body," I argued.

"It'll add to it."

Whether it was sweetness or idiocy, it did feel like love. I raised my legs and plopped my feet in his lap. "Alright. Write away on them then." They were just trainers anyway and his name in a heart with an arrow through it was worth much more.

Afterwards, we toured an apartment. Previous apartments we had toured had been far above my expected salary. Alex had this need to contribute to the apartment's rent despite not getting a break from touring until late October. I had a need to pay rent for myself. I never lived on my own and I felt this apartment should be my apartment, even though Alex's stuff would be there. 

Alex understood all of this, although still pushed to contribute some to the rent and, well, I'm never one to deny financial assistance so we made a deal that he would pay me for storing his stuff while he was gone and I would pay for the rest. This all meant those apartments next to Central Park were out of the question. So, we headed downtown, Petula Clark style. 

"You know, this area is called SoHo too?" I asked him as we walked down Thompson Street. He shook his head and I explained, "It's because it's south of Houston Street. So. Ho."

He chuckled and nodded. "It'll be like a little piece of home with you."

It turned out to be. I found a place on Prince Street for a reasonable amount. 1 bed. 1 bath. Windows that drenched the floors in sunlight, a big closet, and—the thing I was most excited for—a bathtub.

On our first night there, Alex and I attempted to do the romantic having-a-bath-together thing. I purchased a bubble bath solution from Target and Alex got a bottle of wine from Wine and Spirits. We felt very American in both stores. 

"I can't remember the last time I took a bath," Alex said as he sank into the warm oasis.

"They used to just spray you down with a hose, right?" I joked as I sipped on my wine.

Alex cupped his hand in the water and sent a splash my way. "Hey! You got water on the floor. And in my wine." I frowned at the bubbles resting on the surface of the wine.

"I'll get you another glass," he said as he stood.

I reached out and grabbed his leg. "Don't leave."

At my request, he sank back into the water. "Here. You can have mine." He stuck out his half-full glass. I leaned forward and kissed the back of the hand that was holding it. My version of thank you as I took the glass from his hand. 

He stretched his legs out and we kept poking each other until I took Alex's feet into my lap. I lightly rubbed on the left one, his big toe sticking out above the water. I felt sinking in myself and refused to look at him. I was becoming too soft. "I'm gonna miss you."

Alex sighed. I knew he hurt more than me. I missed him and we loved each other the same but I knew he had to deal with two kinds of pain. His and mine. We had to deal with missing each other and he had to deal with the guilt. I always told him it was ridiculous to feel guilty because I never held any resentment toward him for going away. But I guess we never properly addressed all that ugly stuff from the past, only in fights, and we never concluded properly, just in exhaustion.

But I think we both knew that communication would be the difference this time. The band was more established. I was more established. I think I would have hated being alone in our LA house without Alex but something about New York, feeling it was mine, made me feel a little freer.

"I'm sorry," he said.

I shook my head. "Don't apologize. I'm proud of you."

"Proud of you too." I looked up to see the big smile on his face. You know, it heals anything.

I slide deeper into the tub, the water covering my neck. I was bare-skinned and my insides were beginning to feel the same. "I'm nervous."

"We'll be fine," he assured.

I shook my head. "I know. I'm nervous for me. Being alone and the new job."

His hand found my leg in the water, stroking it. "You'll make friends in no time and you're a whiz."

"But what if I hate it?" I sounded wobbly like I was about to tip off the edge.

Alex, the calm force dragging me through life, said, "Then, on to the next thing."

I held a smile to him. One he returned. "My mother would say I'm being picky."

"Your mother who drinks for a living?"

I held offence when Alex spoke of my mother. The things he said were true but my whole life I’ll feel the need to protect her. At that age, I still felt destined to unknowingly become her. In that way, Alex was insulting future me. "Hey! She does other things. Probably."

Alex laughed and pulled his feet from me, curling his legs. "Alright. I'm cramping here." He rose from the tub, swishing the water around, peeking at the edges.

I gasped. "Even if the foot rub I gave you?"

We moved out of LA pretty quickly but yet again transporting all your belongings from one side of the country to another was a pain. We enlisted the help of friends but in New York, we were on our own for the most part, other than some hired movers. We weren't getting that couch up the stairs.

The band did a few festivals in Europe in July before returning for a New York show at the beginning of August. I was only a few weeks into my job and it was the fulfillment and structure I needed, although I wasn't doing much writing. I was fine with working my way up, setting an achievement, and moving forward. It was a mostly new idea for me.

After their concert, we did the ritual of bar hopping. I invited my new friend, Tasha, and her boyfriend to join us, however, her boyfriend ditched her after the show, which led her to get very drunk and weepy and therefore pulled me away from any time of catching up with the group. Although, they seemed very consumed by the drama.

"I don't mean to put this all on you," she cried to me. "But he said he was gonna buy me a drink tonight and I—" she was taking away into sobs.

"I'll buy you a drink," Matt offered.

"Really?" It was in fact her fifth drink. She had quickly consumed the first 2 from the rounds and pulled the other 2 from me. "I really liked him, you know. I love him, I think."

"We know, sweetie." I felt bad for her but all the crying was becoming quite tiresome, especially with a girl you had only known 2 weeks in the setting of an office space.

She sat up straight, wiping away that wetness on her face when Matt arrived back with a drink. For the time being, she calmed her waterworks with a gulp of liquor. "You wouldn't do this to Jane, would you Alex? Why can't I find a guy like that?"

I chuckled, "Alex ditches me all the time."

To the side of me, Alex's head snapped to me. "What?" His face was etched with a furrowed brow and a frown.

I turned to him wide-eyed and confused. "What?"

"I don't ditch you."

My mouth created a slight opening in bafflement. "Yeah, you do. Or did." I turned back to Tasha. "Either way, they're all assholes, you just have to find the asshole that fights you."

"Ha. Asshole." Jamie laughed.

While Jamie found humour in the situation and Tasha found slight comfort, Alex found offense. "You think I'm an asshole?"

I turned back to him. "Yeah. Don't you think I'm a bitch?"

His eyes were wide at the word like we were kids taught to put coins in the swear job. His response was quick. "No."

I tried my best to give it to him in an explanation that would placate him. "Okay. Well, I get on your nerves or whatever. Either way, you just have to find the guy that fits you. Now, I think we should get you a cab." Tasha nodded with a sniffle. 

After I stuck Tasha in a cab, I stayed outside to have a cigarette. I had a weird feeling in my stomach that I wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or something emotional. I had a rash on my left leg that I labelled as being from stress but I wasn't sure what it was stress from. I felt a pressure on my chest and the perfect solution was a cigarette.

It wasn't a smoke signal for Alex to join me although I should have thought that considering our history and the perfect view from our table out the window to the street. He came out halfway through the ash and walked with hair in his face and hands in his pockets.

When he stepped in front of me, I reached out and brushed his hair out of his face and wondered if he felt this way—this feeling of caring, uncovering someone for your gaze—every time he did it for me. I tucked it behind his ear and peeked the small smile underneath that shaggy head. It tickled me, exposing a silent laugh from my lips. 

"You really think I'm an asshole?" He asked. His tone was playful but I knew he was worried I considered him to be one of them. That breed of man who brushed women off after they got their goods as if he hadn't loved and cared for me since the moment we met.

I held my palm over his cheek, holding my hand over his fire, rubbing the lobe of his ear. I just wanted to hold him forever and I felt like crying at the thought I couldn't. I don't know where the sudden emotion came from but I suppose by this point it isn't shocking to find myself crying, especially after 3 drinks outside a bar. I couldn't speak so I shook my head and kept the overwhelming pathos at bay by the rhythmic stroking of his ear. 

"I missed you," he said.

I cut any further words he had off with a shake of my head, a dismissiveness I needed. "I don't want to talk about missing each other anymore." The gates fell and I dropped my arm away from his shoulder, picking at my nails as my voice quivered. "All I talk about is missing you."

"Jane."

Exasperated with myself, I shook my head and looked away not to cry. "I just want to enjoy the night." I looked at him, listening attentively, eyes trained on me. "I don't want to think about you leaving tomorrow night and I'm fine, trust me, but I feel this ache all the time and I don't want to feel this ache while you're here and I don't want to talk about this ache because I know it's mutual so let's stop talking about it and pretend that this is just any other night in our lives and we're in Sheffield, grabbing a pint with our mates or something." 

I laughed wetly. He reached out to me and brushed my hair behind my ear and it made everything feel alright. "This feels pretty Sheffield, doesn't it?"

"What?"

He shrugged and took out his pack of cigarettes, plucking one, and placing it in between his lips. "Light me up, Janie, would ya?"

A smile tugged my lips and I dug into my purse one-handed for my lighter. He leaned forward, the end of it so close to me I could take a bite of it. I lit the flame between us and then to his cigarette. He took a puff before stepping back to exhale, his eyes stuck with mine. 

"I love you. I feel like we don't say that enough," I told him. He stood away from me but I felt so close to him like we had wrapped ourselves up in a fort of blankets, not standing in the humid August streets. 

"You don't have to say it for me to know it. Hasn't that always been our MO?" In wordless whispers and those longing stares, we had always spoken with some underlying language that didn't even make perfect sense to us, it was just there. 

"Yeah. Still, I want to remind you."

He chuckled and stepped closer, hooking his arm around my neck, and pulled me beneath his chin with a long gaze down at me. "I love you too, Janie. And all the rest."

"The rest?" I questioned.

His Adam's apple bopped and he looked up at the sky for a moment as if God was giving him the all-clear. His eyes reintroduced themselves to me. "There's this weight of love inside me that I'll never be able to express to you. It's just there, a consuming being that flares up whenever you're near me or I think about you. It's this constant. I've had it since I thought your name was Jeanie and I still don't know how to talk about it or what to call it—all this unexpressed love."

"It seems like you did." I tried not to sob. I thought of Tasha, likely crying in a cab, and I know I've always been a fortunate girl and I've been called lucky since birth, but I never felt like I truly won anything other than meaningless games until I was brought to Alex. I thought of all those missteps I could have taken to have never met Alex about how many things had to go a certain way for me to be at that first gig. How—I guess—I have to thank Matt, although that part is reluctant for me to say (a fear it will go to his head). But I kept it all inside and didn't tell Alex this because I think this is part of that weight of love I still can't fully express. "Are you sure it's not a tumor?"

He laughed at me and kissed the top of my head. My cigarette had been scuffed out against his jeans so we shared the rest of his before Alex suggested, "I think we should head home." I had never confessed how romantic I thought the idea of going home with Alex was to me but I have a feeling he just knew because he always just knows.

He took me by the hand and took me back inside the bar where we said goodbye to our party of people and I smacked a kiss on the cheek to each of them. They've always felt like brothers-in-law to me but I found as we grew older and closer, they were my friends too.

We headed back to our apartment, taking the A train. Alex held my purse for me and we sat in a sweaty, non-air-conditioned subway car, and it felt as though we were in London on the tube, praying for a gust of wind to come in through the little window and provide momentary relief. 

It was too hot to touch each other's skin so we held a small space between us and knocked knees with one another. Alex sat hunched over, his hands sitting on the top knee of his crossed legs. I leaned back against the plastic orange chair. The train was mostly empty but we filled its quietness with laughter. Halfway through the ride, that sentimental fuzzy part of me took a picture of him. I still owned a flip phone for the sole purpose of having a slideout keyboard, not known for having a good camera, and the photo was mostly unrecognizable to anybody but me, which might be why I liked it so much. 

I’d take these photos often and flip through them occasionally when I was waiting for the subway. I printed some out and pinned them on the walls because I didn’t want to buy picture frames. I folded one up and put it in my wallet because I always loved that Alex had a photo of me in his wallet—a tiny crushed-up photo of my graduation portrait, ugly, but he had pride for it and me).

Without Alex, the apartment had succumbed to my mess. There were clothes tossed in the corner of the bedroom, the desk was covered in papers, books, and more clothes, and the kitchen was dealing with a major dishes problem.

The hour was late but we were both determined to soak up as much time with one another as possible. We undressed from the day and dressed for bed, but sat on the edge of our bed over the covers, talking, talking, talking. Two frogs croaking at one another from across the pond. All we needed was Charlton Brook and we'd be our old selves again. 

"I never thought I'd like work. I'm not in love with this job but I come home and my feet ache and I love it. I like feeling I worked for something," I told him. "I think I need firm direction in my life otherwise I turn into a mess."

Alex looked pleased but all-knowing. He knew all these parts of me before I did. "You were raised without it so you crave it in other aspects." He leaned back on the bed, putting his arms behind his head, so casual in every sense of the word.

"Who needs a therapist when I have you?" I asked. He laughed but I was serious (both good and bad). He's an observer, he just knows these things from one look at you. He reads you completely and then acts like it's nothing. I feel I know Alex well, better than anyone, but not like he knows me. I've always felt there was a piece of Alex that was off-limits to everyone, even himself sometimes. There's a corner of him I will never reach. For him, my thoughts have always been a nude model on full stark display.

Alex turned onto his side and reached a hand over to me, clasping it with a tight squeeze. "You happy?" It was a quick check-in, the reassurance he needed that he wouldn't leave me totally screwed up and alone. Alex often had the feeling of needing to "rescue me," which was partially true but he took too much on sometimes, bearing the weight of both our emotional states, an overwhelming thing that put so much consequence on the question he asked like I wasn't just answering for me, I was also answering for him.

I squeezed back to ease his anxieties. "Yeah. You?" He stayed silent and looked around the room once, startling my heart. He tugged on my arm once as a smirk spread on his face. "What?" 

He tugged again, this time harder. I stared at him quizzically until he pulled once again, yanking me down to lay on top of him. He communicated with his lips, both silent minus gasps. He turned us, hovering over me, flat on my back. We got under the covers.

*

The following night we stayed in and ordered a pizza before having sex on the couch. After, I laid on Alex's chest, our nude bodies up against each other and I do apologize to anybody who sat on the couch after, I swear it wasn't that dirty. His hands were solid on my back, studying the lower curve of my spine, hitting a spot that made me stretch like a cat after a nap.

I sighed as the tension released from my back and laid back down on his sternum. "We're awfully vanilla," I said.

Alex snorted this big ugly snort of laughter that I find so cute like a baby learning how to breathe. "What, like chains and whips?"

I laughed and raised my head up, my chin pressed on his skin, staring up at his tucked head, awkwardly propped up on the armrest. "No. Georgia just told me this story about doing it on the roof of her building."

An amused Alex asked, "You want to head up on our roof now?"

He motioned sitting up but I pushed him back down. "We have an exposed roof. I'm not getting the cops called on us."

"Where's the fun in that if there isn't a little risk of indecent exposure?" He joked.

I giggled and thought of making a joke about getting visas revoked for public nudity, instead, I told him, "We're hiding tonight. Besides, I don't need all that for sex to be fun with you."

He bucked his hips up against mine. "'Cause I'm so good in bed?" He raised an eyebrow and wore a taunting smirk that made me want to slap and kiss him. How infuriating to be so intoxicated by him.

"'Cause you love me," I teased, tapping his nose. I slobbered a kiss on his cheek, which made him groan in disgust like it was his mother doing it in front of all his friends. "And you're going to take me to get ice cream because I'm thinking about vanilla ice cream now."

"From Morgenstern's?" He asked me, even though he knew the answer.

I sat up from him, noting his eyes on my exposed breasts (sometimes, it's nice to know a man is still a boy), and hummed, "Yes, sir." Morgenstern's sat two blocks up on Houston and in the past few months, I had developed an addiction to their bourbon vanilla ice cream and considered it my special treat after a day of work. Alex was partial to salted chocolate, which I always thought was a good balance with mine, especially since he'd let me steal scoops off his cone and mix it with my cup of ice cream.

Alex went out in jeans, a T-shirt, and his Doctor Martens. I went out in sweatpants, a camisole, and my flip-flops. It was 11:40 and only 2 blocks away! 

I was charged up and kissed him behind his ear as he paid for the ice cream. We must have been foul to look at with our hair unbrushed and a careless woman hanging off her good-looking man. I often had little care about how I looked at night in New York. Everyone in New York, one way or another, was loathsome to watch at night so I had no problem with the idea the cashier might have hated us for coming in right before closing, dangling around as we waited. Besides, Alex left a tip.

My hands clawed around Alex's shoulders and I bounced on the balls of my feet as they scooped our ice cream. We ate our ice cream on the small bench they had outside the parlour. Alex ended up with smears of chocolate on the corners of his lips. It was pleasurable to see him so untidy, it would make you laugh and kiss his lips, transferring some of the residue onto you like lipstick.

Alex chased me up the stairs of our apartment building with the menace of pinching my ass to coerce squeals out of me. We caused a ruckus, loud off of our sugar high, but, at the very least, not stumbling drunk up the stairs like some of my other neighbors. Alex caught me at the apartment door. I had no escape, he had the keys. He cornered me and gave a hard pinch working his way up from my butt to my stomach where I was ticklish.

"Mercy! Mercy!" I surrendered. He called off his attack, ready to head inside for some explicitness. 

He put the key in, turned it, and then it snapped. He held the bow, the shaft lodged in the lock. "Fuck," he cursed.

Panic set in as Alex fiddled with the doorknob with no luck. "Fuck. Are we locked out?" I asked.

He picked at the lock, muttering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..." 

It soon became clear that we were stuck. It was nearing 1 AM, I desperately had to pee, and Alex had to leave in 6 hours. "Can we kick the door in?"

"Are you suggesting either of us is strong enough to break the deadbolt?" Alex stood up straight, tossing his head back in exhaustion.

I shrugged. "I don't know. You're pretty fit." He was proper chuffed by this, a slight puff in his chest. "I could try."

"With your flip-flops?" They were the cheap kind. I bought them at 5 Below. "If we break the door the whole building can walk in."

Not knowing the number of any emergency locksmiths, I called 911 and waited at the bottom two steps of the staircase facing the front door. "I guess this is what I get for eating too much ice cream," I quipped.

"No such thing," Alex excused. 

Shrouded in quietness and a reputation of lacking patience, I laid my head on Alex's shoulder and would have fallen asleep if my bladder wasn't prepared to burst. Alex tapped a beat on the denim-covered knee and we didn't talk, just stayed close, two beings huddled together for survival and companionship.

Firefighters came and had no luck removing the broken key so they busted into the apartment. We couldn't lock it but we could at least close it. I rushed in for the bathroom. I laid down on our bed and waited for Alex while he used the bathroom. I fell asleep before he returned.

In the morning, Alex nudged me awake. He was fully dressed and by the light stumbling in through the window, I knew what it meant. "I fell asleep. Why'd you let me?"

"Figured if you fell asleep while I was in the bathroom you were pretty tired." Over the covers, flip flops kicked off the edge of the bed, in the two minutes he was away.

"'Kay." I was still fiddling out of sleep when Alex tapped my arm, an insisting action to make me stay in bed. "Let me walk you out."

"No, stay in bed, it's fine." He kneeled beside the bed, forcing my hand.

"You sure?"

He nodded. "I'll see you in a little. Yeah?" He kept it short. It was the easier way.

I rubbed my eye, knowing I wouldn't be going back to sleep as much as Alex hoped I would. "Yeah. I'll try to get off sometime in September."

"Don't feel pressured. I'll see you in Philly, right?" That would be over a month away, 30th of September.

I nodded because it was easier than speaking. "Call me when you get to Boston."

He donned an assuring smile, leaned down, and kissed me. He left and I made myself a cup of coffee and drank it and sat with silence.

*

On a Wednesday, after a day of work, I took the train down to Philadelphia. I had never been before and part of me wanted to enjoy all the tourist things about it but I had limited time between 30th Street Station and heading to the Electric Factory. 

However, I made a pit stop along the way, getting off the subway, and meeting Alex at the Reading Terminal Market for a late lunch/early dinner. It wasn't the Art Museum or Independence Hall but it allowed a cultural indulgence of the city. 

Alex wore a jean jacket and didn't look like a man about to front a sold-out show. We bumped shoulders with passersby as we made our way through the narrow passageways. Alex got a cheesesteak, which I found disgusting. I ate a soft pretzel and assorted candy from a Pennsylvania Dutch candy shoppe.

We managed to find a table wedged between dad with his two kids and a group of high schoolers. Safe to say, we had trouble hearing each other over the chaos but we communicated through shared observations, reacting with a stare at one another as the father began to yell at his son or a laugh at the high schoolers mocking one of their teachers.

We hadn't really spoken until we left the building, stepping out into the beginnings of a crisp autumn evening. Alex bought me ice cream from Bassetts (as if I needed more sugar) and gave the change to a group of busking drummers by the door. 

I grabbed Alex's attention at a stoplight as I dragged out, "So..." 

He chuckled at my solicitation, dragging out his own, "So..."

The light turned green and we stayed in step with one another. I initiated the conversation but I had no follow-up for my So-ing. Sometimes, I just wanted to look at him but walking and staring is a difficult practice. "One of my pieces is going to be in this magazine n+1. Something I wrote back in LA, Jackson submitted forever ago."

"Is it going to be printed?" He asked.

"Yeah, but I think you can read it online."

Quickly, he shook his head. "I want the physical thing."

I laughed. "Always one for physical media, Al." It was clear with the record collection I was storing in a small New York apartment. You had transferred this habit onto me as I went out to purchase the New York Times from a street kiosk instead of reading it online.

"It'll be easier. I can read it on a plane, on the bus, on the toilet."

I hit his shoulder light-heartedly. "Alright, I'll get you the print."

*

At the end of October, Alex returned from Tokyo for a small tour break. We fell into a cycle similar to that of our London days. I went to work, Alex stayed home. We went out to dinner sometimes, and we occasionally went out for drinks with my work friends, but more often, we just stayed home. It was a cocoon and I think we both preferred to stay still with one another after distant months apart.

I drank coffee in bed one morning, a Saturday or Sunday with no rush for any obligations, fine with retiring to a day in our shoebox. We were both still in our pajamas. Alex sat on the edge of the bed, facing me, strumming his guitar. I was on my laptop, scrolling through someone's blog, but mostly watching him.

These unguarded moments with his head slumped over his guitar. His hair covered his face almost completely, only able to distinguish his nose from the rest of him. The ends of his hair held these perfect curls that I envied. He's been perceived to be a cool, uncaring person but I've found Alex, especially during these early years, held such a concern about coming off a certain way, whether considered cold or cool. A long-held hatred for unwanted watching, even from me.

His muscles had suspended into relaxation finally. I found he acquired this rest most often with a guitar. He held a light strum, sometimes humming along, sometimes writing a note in his little notebook.

I thought I was catching an unaware Alex working away, much like our first year of knowing each other. Then, he looked up and said, "If you're going to stare at me, you might as well help me." He tossed me his notebook with dashes and scratches that to the untrained eye looked like a chicken scratch of nothing.

I read it and this time I could feel him watching me. I poured over the words as he had done with his writing and when I finished I said, "I feel so inadequate next to you."

"Shut up," he insisted, both through his support of me and his own insecurity.

"It's a beautiful song." I handed the notebook back to him. "A very beautiful love song." I crossed my arms, smiling at him.

"Well, you know."

"Yeah." Because I always did. This loving, hideous, unspoken language of ours.

 "Good inspiration. You gave me the title." Alex took months of crafting before giving something exposure, like formulating a fine wine. 

"Well, you wrote the rest of it," I reasoned. "Is it for the new album?"

He shrugged and examined his own work. "I don't think so. Maybe just for you and me."

*

a/n: this is pretty much for goblinontour. the next parts will come much sooner, we're approaching the thick of it... oh, and if you see any mistakes, no you didn’t.

[scorpioaqua]

fireside | bbrae week '24 | day 1: camping

rating: T word count: 4,232 summary: Raven and Gar take their favorite kiddos on a special camping trip, but the greatest surprise of all won't be revealed until nightfall. find it on AO3 | @bbraeweek24

_

“Dibs on the biggest bedroom!” Melvin shouted as she leapt out of the rental car, dashing towards the lakefront cabin at a frightening speed.

“Not fair!” Timmy bellowed, hot on her trail.

Teether (who had long since abandoned that particular nickname in favor of the simpler and more stately “T”) hung back with Gar and Raven, the former unloading the car, the latter looking after her rambunctious wards with a look of pure consternation.

“There are only two bedrooms, and it should be obvious which one is for the grownups!” she called after them. Then, realizing they had already wrestled their way into the cabin and were no longer listening, she sighed and turned to T. “Keep your siblings in line, will you?”

T, now a cherubic eight-year-old, smiled brightly at Raven before darting away into the cabin. Raven turned to help Gar with unloading the car before something occurred to her and she turned to shout an additional instruction: “And that does not require biting.”

Gar gave a low chuckle as he passed his wife a bag, which she accepted begrudgingly.

“Let the kids have some fun, won’t you?” he teased her.

“What do you call taking them on a surprise camping trip?” she retorted, inspecting the contents of the bag.

“Exactly. I wish you would let loose a little.”

“If that’s an innuendo, it will be harder to achieve if they steal the double bed,” she said absently. “Shit.”

“Oh, no, whatever will we do if we have to share a twin bed? How could we possibly get our bodies that close— ”

“Gar, stop, I’m serious,” she snapped. “Where’s the envelope?”

“Relax.” He set the cooler he was holding down and peered into the bag with her. “It’s definitely here. You checked like ten times before we left, and five more times at every rest stop.”

Raven was quickly working herself into a panic, pawing through the bag with abandon. She sank to her knees and began removing her belongings, tossing them aside carelessly.

“Rae, breathe—”

“It’s not here, Gar.” The bag was empty, its contents — clothes, snacks, phone chargers — scattered around her on the ground. She looked up at her husband, her eyes wide with concern. “It’s not in here!”

Gar sank down to meet her, lifting up pajamas and underwear like the elusive envelope might be hiding underneath.

“Did you check your jacket?” he asked her.

Raven began frantically grappling around for said jacket when Gar laid a hand on her shoulder, gently redirecting her attention.

“Babe. You’re wearing it.”

Too frazzled to feel embarrassed, Raven quickly reached into the inside pocket of her leather jacket — and visibly relaxed when she felt the familiar shape of the manila envelope.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Yeah. Yes, it’s here.”

“Told you,” Gar said, playfully tapping her nose. He surveyed the damage around them. “You made a mess.”

She collected and replaced the discarded items telekinetically, trying her best to slow her heart rate. Gar frowned at her, concerned.

“Rae, let’s tell them now.”

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. “What?”

“Yeah. Let’s rip the band-aid off.”

“No,” she said sternly. “We have a plan. Let’s just stick to it.”

“You have a plan,” he corrected her. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you won’t be able to relax until we tell them.”

Raven rose to her feet, slinging the now-repacked bag over her shoulder. “Your suspicion may prove correct, but nevertheless…”

He smiled fondly at her. “You really want this to go perfectly, don’t you?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, Garfield — I want to fail miserably. I want everyone to end this trip sobbing and preferably hospitalized.”

 “Point taken.” Gar hoisted the last few luggage items out of the trunk and waggled his brows at Raven. “Now let’s go inside, shall we?”

__

The cabin had been Raven’s idea. Gar had suggested the camping trip, and Raven had obliged, but insisted that the trip must be “outdoor optional”.

Meaning, of course, that she was free to excuse herself from any activity she deemed too loud or wet or rambunctious, and tuck away with a book in the comfort of the air conditioning.

Gar had called her a princess, but the rental she had selected was modest and comfortable, so he didn’t give her too much grief in the end. Raven, for her part, was just relieved to see that the cabin matched the online photos, right down to the cozy, quilted four-poster bed…which was currently occupied by a gangly blonde teenager.

“What did I say, young lady?” Raven nudged Melvin’s foot. “This is not your room.”

Melvin, in all of her fourteen-year-old, gum-chewing, box-dye-streaked-hair glory, ignored her, scrolling absently on her phone.

“Mel.”

“There’s no freaking service here,” Mel finally lamented.

Raven snorted. “Because I’m sure you‘re accustomed to such high-speed internet at the monastery.”

“No, I’m not, duh.” Melvin sat up, face twisted into a theatrical pout. “Which is why I was hoping this vacation would be different.”

Raven reached out to stroke Mel’s hair. “If you’re unhappy with the locale, you are welcome to book your own flight home.”

Mel yawned and leaned into Raven’s caress. “No, no. I’m sorry for being ungrateful.”

Raven smiled, a real smile such as only her favorite kids could elicit from her. She pinched Mel’s cheek playfully. 

“Up,” she told her. “Go help Gar unpack the cooler.”

“Why me?” Mel grumbled.

“You’re the oldest,” Raven said simply, shooing her along.

“Technically you’re the oldest.” Then, in response to Raven’s glare: “Fine. I’m going.”

In her absence, Raven sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. She fingered the edge of the envelope in her pocket, suddenly overcome by something like stage fright. Maybe she was making a mistake — a very expensive one. She shook the thought from her mind, shedding her jacket and stowing the envelope away in the drawer of her nightstand.

Just then, T poked his head through the door, blue eyes shining up at her from behind a halo of golden curls.

“BB said to tell you he’ll need help with the fire,” he said slowly and deliberately, as if rehearsed.

Raven groaned. “Already?” she said. “Don’t you guys want to take a nap first?”

“No, we want s’mores,” T replied matter-of-factly.

Raven smirked. “I can’t imagine who put that idea in your head. Come on, let’s go.” She took T’s hand and led him back into the common area, where Gar was knelt in front of the fridge. He and Mel had, apparently, formed a sort of assembly line; Melvin was retrieving juice pouches and lunch meat from inside the cooler, and Gar was on stocking duty, loading them into the fridge.

“Garfield Logan,” Raven said from behind him.

Without turning around, Gar answered her: “Raven Logan.”

“What’s all this I hear about dessert before dinner?”

“Now where would you have heard a thing like that?” Gar turned to see T looking at him guiltily, still clinging to Raven’s hand. He sighed disapprovingly. “C’mon, dude. The plan was to not tell her what the fire was for until after we’d lit it already.”

“Sorry,” T murmured.

Gar smiled. “It’s okay, buddy. Why don’t we make some sandwiches? Then after that we can play outside for a bit till it’s dark enough to start on s’mores.”

T’s face lit up, and he leapt forward to encircle Gar in a hug.

“Heh, guess he likes that idea,” Gar said to Raven.

Raven watched Gar’s hand stroking T’s hair, saw how T clung to him and Mel reached over him to put some more food away and Timmy tackled him while he was distracted by T’s hug, and then the four of them – all of them, all at once – devolved into a whirlwind of playfighting and giggles, and she had to swallow against the lump in her throat, blink back the unbidden tears in her eyes. She was scared. Tonight was going to be extraordinarily daunting, no matter the outcome. Even after all the progress she’d made – opening herself up more willingly to friendships and new experiences and marriage – still nothing was scarier than loving something this much. She was reminded of this daily.

And especially now.

“Okay, okay,” she said, grabbing Timmy by his shirt collar and catching Mel around the waist. T she nudged gently aside with her foot so she could make pointed eye contact with Gar. “Save the roughhousing for outside, please. I did request some peace and quiet on this trip.”

“That’s true,” Gar said, dusting himself off. “She did. I was there.” He stood up, reopening the fridge to examine its offerings. “Okay, so, sandwich time. And if any of you pick something with meat in it, I’m kicking you out.”

__

After lunch, Gar had suggested a small hike on a beginner-level trail. The trailhead was actually on the property, but Raven had declined nonetheless, insisting she was going to hang back to “get things ready”.

“You mean to get yourself ready,” Gar said, arching a brow.

Raven’s only response was a frustrated sigh. “Here,” she said. “Take your comm.” She tossed it to him, and he caught it with ease.

“For what?”

“For emergencies,” she insisted.

He tucked it into his pocket, then took her by the elbow. “Come here.” He pulled her flush against him, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Everything’s gonna be okay, Rae. I promise.”

She leaned into the embrace, gnawing at her lip. “I hope so.”

“It will be,” he said firmly. “What are you so worried about?”

She closed her eyes, trying to center herself as she confessed, “I’m worried they won’t…like it.”

“How could they not?” Gar laughed incredulously. “They’d have to be crazy. I mean, they are pretty crazy, but in like, an unmedicated ADHD child way. Not in a we hate Raven way.”

She tensed at this, and he pulled back, examining her closed off expression.

“Whoa, hey,” he said consolingly. “I was just joking. That’s what’s eating at you, isn’t it?” He tucked one hand under her chin and tilted her face up so her gaze met his. Her eyes were watery. “You think if they don’t choose this, it means they’re not choosing you.”

“I guess,” she whispered.

Gar frowned, cupping her face gently. “Raven, even if they did turn down the idea – which they won’t – it wouldn’t have anything to do with you. I mean, you’re fantastic. They love you. They really do. And I know that they–”

“Are you coming or what?” Melvin demanded, barging into their bedroom. She paused, took stock of the situation, then pronounced, “Oh. Ew.”

“What?” Timmy appeared behind her, repositioning a baseball cap he’d donned for the occasion.

“They’re making out,” Mel said drily.

“We are not making out,” Raven said. “Is that what you’re wearing? The ticks are going to have a field day.”

Mel tugged self-consciously at her denim shorts. “They’re cute.”

“They’re not hiking gear,” Raven chided her. “But whatever – that’s your call.”

“I’ll change,” Mel grumbled, heading for the kids’ room.

“Are you ready yet?” Timmy demanded of Gar.

“I was born ready, kiddo,” he answered, squeezing Raven’s hand one last time before following behind an anxious Timmy. He stopped just at the threshold, turning back to look at his wife. “Hey – you’re gonna do so great, love. I promise.”

She nodded, unconvinced, then gave him a weak smile. “Keep them alive, please.”

“Any other requests?”

“Yeah,” she said, smirking. “Keep yourself alive, too. Preferably.”

“As you wish, milady,” he said before exiting.

When Gar and the kids left for their hike, Raven spent some time pacing anxiously around the cabin before ultimately deciding to take advantage of the waterfall shower – an amenity which she noted was comically out of place with the rest of the decor. She scrubbed her skin raw, lather-rinse-repeated a total of three times, and nearly passed out from the heat before she dried off and put on a cozy t-shirt and sweats. From there, she tried reading – even toyed with the idea of setting up the hammock Gar had brought along for this very reason – but ultimately found herself unable to focus on anything but her own nerves. So – meditation it was.

This was how Gar found her upon their return, sitting (or, rather, hovering) on the back deck, her legs crossed and eyes closed in her signature meditative pose. He knew better than to startle her when she was in this state, so he quickly corralled the children indoors.

Raven had been so deep in meditation that she hadn’t even noticed their return, and, when she finally did crack an eye open, she saw that the sun was nearly completely set. She headed inside and, finding no evidence of Gar or the kids in the common areas, wandered farther into the corridor until she came to the kids’ shared bathroom, where all four of them were crowded inside.

Timmy and T were helping each other to apply aloe to their burned skin. Gar was sat on the closed toilet, Mel at his feet, scrolling on her phone as he…braided her hair?

“Um,” Raven said eloquently.

Gar looked up beaming, and Raven noticed the little hair elastic dangling from his exposed fang. “Hiya, Rae.”

“What…are you doing?” she asked. None of the kids had yet acknowledged her presence, so it wasn’t out of the question that she might be dreaming.

“Just gettin’ these monkeys freshened up before s’mores time,” he said, waggling his brows at her.

“And you’re…braiding her hair?” she said quizzically. “Since when is that a thing you do?”

“Look, we both lived with Kori for a very long time,” Gar said by way of explanation, reaching up to retrieve the hair elastic from his teeth and tie off the braid. Raven examined the hairstyle properly for the first time then, her eyes narrowing – then widening in disbelief.

“And it’s a French braid, even? Who are you?”

“The man of your dreams?”

“Barf,” Mel put in, standing up and checking out her new hairdo in the mirror. “Thanks, Gar. Looks good.”

“Okay done!” T announced, holding up hands still sticky with aloe.

“Not quite, buddy,” Gar said cheerfully. “Let’s get those hands washed and then we can all head outside.”

“Can you help me with the fire?” Mel said, and it took an additional, “Hello?” before Raven realized she was talking to her.

“What? Oh, uh, sure.” She stepped aside to let Mel by, still watching Gar with a slightly incredulous expression. He was juggling helping T wash his hands and listening to a story about some favorite anime or another of Timmy’s when he caught her staring.

“What?” he mouthed.

She shook her head, smiling slightly. “You’re good at this,” she said.

“God, I hope so,” he said, and she turned to rejoin Melvin in the backyard.

They got the fire started quickly, much to Raven’s chagrin. She was really hoping she’d have more time to stall, but as Gar traipsed down to the firepit giving T a piggyback ride, Timmy beside him, arms laden with s’mores ingredients, the fluttering in her stomach told her there was no turning back.

They settled in, Melvin and Raven with blankets on their laps to shield against the cool of the early-autumn evening, the boys (Gar included) roasting their marshmallows as messily as they could manage. They told scary stories until T started crying, and then they told funny stories until Mel got embarrassed at one of the stories Timmy chose to tell, and then they traded fond memories (including numerous tales of Melvin’s now-retired "imaginary" friend Bobby) until the fire started flickering more weakly and Gar and Raven locked eyes across the fire and his gaze said Now.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Raven said as she rose from her seat. T yawned from his spot next to Gar, but Mel and Timmy were too engrossed in a debate about who would win in a fight between Starfire and Superman to fully notice her departure.

She found herself in the master bedroom, staring down into the drawer containing that fateful envelope. Not for the first time that day, she considered backing out. But then she thought of the first time she met those kids, how they didn’t have anyone and they could all – even the youngest of them – sort of intuit that even she didn’t want to be there with them, and she thought of how she defended them, protected them, gave them a place to be.

And she picked up the envelope.

She tucked it into her jacket again as she made her way back to the firepit, resuming her seat quietly and ceremoniously enough that the others seemed to sense a shift in the air. They watched her attentively, as if waiting for her to speak.

So she did.

“I have…a confession to make,” she began tentatively, scanning their faces before continuing. They wore mostly puzzled expressions, with the notable exception of Gar, whose expression was tender and encouraging. She exhaled through her nose and pushed onward. “I – we – didn’t just bring you here for a vacation.”

Mel arched a brow. “What do you mean?”

Raven made eye contact with her, speaking clearly and directly. “We want to ask you something. All of you.” She looked then at Timmy and T in turn, and they watched her with round eyes as if anticipating bad news.

“Is this a work thing?” Mel asked skeptically, looking back and forth between Raven and Gar.

“A work thing?” Gar asked.

“Yeah, like, are you putting us to work? As Titans?”

Raven and Gar exchanged a look, and he shrugged. She cleared her throat and continued.

“Sort of, I guess,” she replied, her hands folded in her lap. “That is, if you want. But that’s not really our main question.”

There was a long pause, during which Timmy interjected, “Come on, you’re killing me. What’s the surprise?” T fidgeted nervously next to his brother, his eyes trained on Gar.

Raven steeled herself before continuing, deciding it was better not to stall any longer. It would only create agony for everyone involved.

“We’ve all become very close these past seven years,” Raven began. “And I – I was never a kids person, you know? Certainly not when I first met you. But you changed all of that. You mean so much to me – to us. Gar and I look forward to these rare moments we get to spend extended time with you, and it…well, to be frank, it sucks to have you living so far away.” She stopped, letting all of this sink in.

“Are you, like, breaking up with us?” Mel asked. Raven could tell her tone was meant to be teasing, but she heard the tremor underneath, the telltale sign of something else threatening to break through.

“No,” Gar said firmly.

“No, quite the opposite,” Raven echoed. Before she could talk herself out of it, she reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved the manila envelope. She stared at it for a moment before opening it and counting, like a compulsion, the three individual papers inside. She looked up at the children again. “I’m going to hand each of you something. Please keep it face down until I tell you, so you all find out what’s on the other side at the same time. Deal?”

“Deal,” they all murmured in unison. Shakily, she distributed the papers, watching as Melvin, Timmy, and T each dutifully laid their own papers face down on their laps.

She looked to Gar once more, found that he was already watching her. She smiled as well as she could manage, and he did the same. He’d been the one keeping her afloat through this whole thing, and now she could see the apprehension coloring his features as well. Last chance to back out, she thought in his direction, though she knew he couldn’t hear her. But, in that way that only Garfield had, he seemed to understand – and he nodded, once, signaling her to continue.

“Okay,” she said timidly. “Go ahead and turn them over.”

They all obliged, and Raven found her leg bouncing against her will, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears. She didn’t know which child to observe – found that her heart was torn between the three of them – so she focused instead on Gar’s hands, on how he was channeling his own anxiety into wringing them in his lap, and she kept her eyes fixed there for what felt like an eternity but was probably only a handful of seconds, until she heard Mel.

“Are you serious?”

Raven looked up. Mel was holding the paper to her chest, frozen in place, her brow furrowed as she searched Raven’s face for answers.

“Yes,” Raven said weakly. “We’re serious. But only if you want to. It’s your choice. We would never expect you to–”

But she didn’t have a chance to finish her sentence, because Mel had cleared the space between them, still clutching the paper like a lifeline, and thrown her arms around Raven in the span of seconds.

“Yes,” she cried, her face buried in Raven’s neck, her tears staining her skin. “Yes.”

Raven choked back a sob of her own, closing her eyes as she returned Mel’s embrace. Her relief was indescribable, her joy unsurpassable.

“What does it mean?” she heard T ask, and she opened her eyes to see him leaning over to his brother.

“It’s…” Timmy looked up, seemingly uncertain of how to proceed. Or perhaps, like his sister, he just needed the confirmation. He seemed to find it in Gar’s teary-eyed smile, and he turned back to his little brother, pointing to the page in front of him. “It’s adoption paperwork, T. They’re asking us if…if we want them to be our family.”

“But…” T seemed more confused than ever, and a pregnant silence hung over the group as he processed this information. Mel stopped hugging Raven long enough to watch her brothers’ expressions, her head resting on Raven’s shoulder. Finally, T continued, “Aren’t you already our family?”

Raven laughed – really laughed – and took Mel’s hand as she responded.

“Yes. We are. But this…it just makes it official.”

“Official?” T asked, looking to Gar.

“Yeah, buddy,” Gar said, his voice cracking despite himself. “These forms are so we can…we can show the people in charge that you’re really our kids. For real.”

“And,” Raven added, giving Melvin’s hand a gentle squeeze, “it means no more monastery.”

“Really?” Timmy piped up.

“Really,” Raven said. Then she cleared her throat, adjusting her posture. “I know…I know that’s a big change. I mean, the monastery has been your…your home for all intents and purposes for the better part of a decade now.”

“No,” Mel interjected, sitting upright and looking at Raven and Gar in turn. “No, the monastery is just some place where we laid our heads at night.” She looked Raven in the eyes as she delivered her next words, with almost the most conviction Raven had ever seen from the girl. “Wherever you guys are? That’s our home.”

Raven’s lip quivered, and she heard Gar sniffle. She knew that if she looked at her husband right now, she’d fall apart entirely. So instead, she brought Mel into another hug, holding her somehow more tightly than before.

“Wow,” Timmy said after a moment. “That was…that was…really corny, Melvin.”

“Timmy,” Gar chastised, but Raven could hear the smile in his voice.

“What? It was.”

“Well,” Gar said, rising from his place across from Raven with a grunt, “I think this calls for celebration, wouldn’t you guys agree?”

Raven narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What did you do?” she demanded of her husband.

“Relax, Rae,” he said, then waved T over and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

T grinned. “Really? Wow, firecrack–”

Gar clamped a hand over his mouth. “Shhhh!”

“No,” Raven snapped, glaring at him as she stood up. “Absolutely not.”

“Kids, go check my bag in the bedroom,” he said, ignoring Raven’s protestations. The kids didn’t have to be told twice, and they darted away and into the cabin once again, whooping and hollering with newfound excitement.

Raven was still staring daggers at Gar, her arms folded across her torso. Gar smiled innocently, approaching his wife with what he hoped was a convincingly contrite expression.

“Baby,” he cooed. “Angel. Love of my life.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his forehead against hers.

“You are the worst,” she muttered, but she didn’t push him away.

“Hmm,” he murmured, nuzzling against her. “And yet, you picked me.”

“Starting to regret my judgment that day,” Raven teased, finally relenting and kissing him. He kissed her back softly, and when she pulled away to look at him, he was staring at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read. “What are you thinking about?” she asked him.

He smirked, digging his fingertips into her waist as he leaned in to kiss her again. “Thinking about making a fourth child soon,” he purred as he captured her lips in another, deeper kiss.

She scoffed, but her indignation was short lived. She laughed against his lips, and she found she wasn’t even worried about the firecrackers or the sunburns or the long drive home. She wanted this, all of this, all of these little mundane problems. And she wanted them with him.

[thedvilsinthedetails]

Rosekiller band au microfic!!!

hey guys, I wrote the first microfic in the lil series I’m doing, you can find the original idea for it here

ik I’d said I’d wait but I’m impatient hahaha

(some of the ppl that asked to be tagged if i ever wrote it: @always-reading @blu3stars @chaoticgaywitch @1284646imjusthere @depressedtheatrekiddo @idk-what-to-put-here-123)

anyway just wrote this pretty quickly so it might have some mistakes n stuff sorry abt that I don’t do grammar or punctuation anyway here you go, enjoy:

(EDIT: link to part 2)

••• Pink lipstick stains, cigarette butts

I lie in bed, I hate my guts

A day in the dark 

A muddled afternoon, yeah

Barty pressed his cheek close to Evan as they sang into the same microphone. He could feel the buzz of the music through the vibration of the stage below him. 

Oh baby darling how I long 

To become your suicide blonde

He ran a hand through Evan’s platinum curls as he sung the line. Evan leaned into it, eyes meeting Barty’s, grinning as he sung. 

To lie beside my Romeo

Oh what a wicked way to go

Evan’s fingers moved deftly on the guitar, he lifted a hand, twirled the pick in his hand before resuming immediately, he didn’t take his eyes off Barty the entire song. 

•••

“Ah fucking hell look at the comments Bee.”

Evan was sat at the base of the sofa, scrolling through the comments on a video of their performance last night. He held the phone up to Barty on the sofa, who squinted before taking it and reading it out to the room.

“Skittlefiend57 says ‘omg Blarty and Evan! I’m so gone 4 them u guys’”

“Blarty?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve been getting my name wrong all these years guys. Wow that’s a crazy thing to discover at 23.”

“Bad spelling aside, there’s way more. And it’s not all good stuff.”

Evan said and Barty looked back down at the comments. 

“Barty and Evan are queerbaiting, they act so gay but they’re not dating. It’s all clearly faked to get attention. Fucking pathetic. Why thank you peenisonapizza. Glad to see you know us personally and can therefore speak on our behalf.”

“Don’t know why they’re obsessed with accusing a band with two trans guys of queer baiting.”

Evan pinched his furrowed brow and shook his head in disbelief.

“They don’t even care about the fucking music, just us and whether we’re dating or not.”

Barty laid down on the sofa, dropping one arm around Evan and resting his chin on Evan’s shoulder.

“Hey cheer up Rosie. They care about the music. There’s a few assholes but that’s a given. If they weren’t talking about us acting gay they’d be talking about whether my tattoos are real or fake.”

“Or some conspiracy theory that Reggie’s not actually lactose intolerant.” 

Pandora chipped in.

“I’m not lactose intolerant!”

Regulus replied indignantly.

“Is that you talking or your obsession with chocolate?”

Dorcas rolled her eyes as she spoke. Regulus avoided her gaze as he mumbled out a half hearted response.

“Remus got me hooked on Tony’s chocolonely.”

While the rest of the group squabbled Evan leaned his head back against Barty’s shoulder, he pulled out his phone.

***

Evan.Rosier✔️

Hey everyone, I’ve noticed there’s a lot of speculation about me and @Barty.Grouch.JR and I wanted to say that it’s none of your business, you can think what you like but please don’t ask us or spam comment sections with theories. As always thank u so much for listening to our music, the skittles luv u x

***

Evan breathed in and passed the phone to Barty.

“You think this is good?”

Barty read it over and nodded.

“You’ve been really nice about it too.”

Evan huffed out a laugh.

“I was normal about, not my fault you would have said something like-“

“Roses are red, violets are blue, you are a cunt and I hate you @peenisonapizza.”

Barty took a small bow, flourishing his hand dramatically. Evan turned around and flicked him in the leg, which only succeeded in making him laugh. 

 “Ok I’ve posted it.”

Evan clicked post and watched as the ‘likes’ number quickly began to climb.

“Now I’m just not gonna read the comments on that post.”

Evan huffed out a laugh and Barty patted his shoulder.

“Good on you Rosie. Now who wants to watch a movie?”

Evan clambered onto the sofa next to Barty who leaned against him immediately, head resting on his shoulder.

“Rosie.”

Barty whispered.

“Yeah Bee?”

“Give me your phone. Look we both know it will bother you all evening not reading those comments if you have your phone on you. Just- out of sight out of mind, I’ll give it back to you once the movie is over but you deserve to have an evening off.”

Barty’s eyes were wide, expression genuine as he spoke. Evan hesitated then reached in his pocket for his phone.

“Don’t spam it with photos alright?”

A smirk spread on Barty’s face quickly, eyes sparkling.

“I make no promises Ev.”

Evan rolled his eyes but handed the phone over. 

The movie was something Pandora had picked, something from the late 80s, a strange mix of fantasy, reality and meta theatre that Evan actually didn’t hate.

Still he drifted to sleep at some point watching it, the stress of the day had clearly gotten to him and something about the way the top of Barty’s head made for a great pillow probably didn’t help.

Either way he woke up to the feeling of Barty shaking him.

“Come on sleeping beauty, let’s get you to a real bed. Here’s your phone back.”

Evan rubbed his eyes and got up, stumbling to his room as thanked Barty in a half asleep murmur.

He got to his room and turned on his phone, wincing at the glaring brightness, turning it down quickly. He opened his photos app, just as he’d suspected his camera roll was filled with new photos.

He began to scroll through them. There was one of his friends, all waving at the camera. A zoomed in shot of Inigo Montoya‘s face on the TV screen from a funny angle. Himself, looking dumb, sleeping with his mouth slightly open. He scrolled to the next picture and stopped. Barty with that cheeky grin of his, curled up against Evan, flipping off the camera. Eyes twinkling in that way that always made Evan feel a little warmer, a little brighter. He fell asleep again dreaming of a body pressed against his in a hug, the hum of a movie no longer playing, soft hair tickling his face and mischief painted in big brown eyes. 

For info about the position they’re sat in (it’s clear in my mind but I’m not sure how clear it is in the description), the song that they are playing and the movie they watch, look below the read more:

Position they are in before Evan gets on the sofa, red is Evan, green is Barty - yes Barty is uncomfortable, yes he would sit like that anyway bc Barty will do fucking contortion to be able to hug Evan argue with a wall

Don’t question the drawing skills, I can’t draw and did it in a moving vehicle

the song is EVOL by MARINA

the movie is the princess bride suggested by the lovely @lulublack90 who u shld defo check out bc she’s rlly amazing at writing

(Oh also Evan and Reggie are both trans in this)

[ughkat]

brother's best friend | a.f.i

au oneshot ❥

ashton x fem!reader

graphic smut, petnames

ashton is your brothers best friend, their band practice gets a little noisy and you decide to say something.

-

I sighed in frustration at the blaring clamor coming from the basement, where my brother and his garage band gathered every week. I focused my eyes heavier on the book in my lap, adjusting my seating in bed.

Another loud clash, followed by a wall-shaking bass riff.

"Ughh." I audibly groaned, tossing my book to the side. I got up from my bed and walked heavily out of my room, mentally cursing my brother. Opening the door to the basement, the series of loud crashing and laughs came to a halt, as I hastily made my way down the steps. My brother and his two band mates turned their heads to my direction, my brother rolling his head in annoyance. I crossed my arms as I reached the bottom step.

"Can you be quieter? Please?" I hissed. I quickly scanned the room, making eyes at the drummer, Ashton. He returned a smug look on his face as I spoke with anger.

"We'll keep it down." Ashton sneered, emitting obvious sarcasm. I rolled my eyes before storming my way back up to my room. Just as I was about to close the basement door, three clicks of Ashton's drumsticks, followed by sporadic banging on his drums, louder than before. I let out a scoff of disbelief, but continued to my room.

Ashton had been my brother's best friend since I could remember. Him, my brother and I being so close in age aided the three of us to spend a lot of time together. Even into our early adulthood, Ashton has seemed to bring out our most immature selves, acting as we did when we were younger. Calling each other names, playing tricks on each other, meaningless arguing. Ashton was always just "my brother's best friend". In usual little sister fashion, I found myself growing increasingly more attracted to Ashton as we got older, but never acted on it in fear of ruining his friendship with my brother. I couldn't help but turn my longing into childish anger.

Ashton's smug face burned in my head as I returned to my room, sinking onto the bed. "That stupid smile." I thought to myself. Yet I knew deep down I was more upset at the fact that I couldn't really get mad at that "stupid smile". I laid on my back, staring blankly into the ceiling. I wondered how long I would have to fake hate Ashton—And does he fake hate me too?

I listened hesitantly to the rhythms coming from below me, finding myself tapping my finger to a bass drum. I pridefully caught myself, crossing my arms across my chest. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing I enjoy his music.

Finding myself lost in thought, my wandering mind was interrupted by my brother's voice coming from downstairs. I sat up slowly to eavesdrop. Sounds of clanging and thumping of what I assumed to be instruments and equipment being put back into their place, followed by footsteps up the stairs.

As they made their way down the hallway to the front, I listened to my brother's words.

"Alright, see you guys. Ash is staying back for a bit." He chirped. The front door shut and I continued to listen.

"I'm gonna' go get a shower, help yourself to whatever." He continued to Ashton. I listened for the footsteps heading toward the bathroom, followed by the bathroom door latching shut. I watched the small opening at bottom of my door frame with anticipation of where Ashton would set himself. Sitting in my own silence for a few moments, I snapped out of my trance on the the door, realizing what I was doing and shook my head. "You're being a psycho." I thought to myself. I laid back lazily into my bed and grabbed the book from where I had tossed it, returning to my interrupted page.

My mind wandered into a world besides my own as the text on the pages before me flooded my brain. I was numb to everything around me, 100% encapsulated in my book. A jolting flinch shook my body and mind, tearing me from my fantasies when I heard three heavy knocks on my door. I threw my hands down to my lap abruptly with a frustrated sigh, tossing my head back.

"What?" I groaned, dragging out my words, I was awaiting the unwanted presence of my brother. My door began to open slowly, revealing the unexpected visitor.

"May I come in?" Ashton spoke with a cheeky smile, peaking only his head through. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, eyeing him up and down.

"Why?" I questioned with a petty tone.

"C'mon we haven't just talked and hung out in forever." He chuckled. I raised an eyebrow before letting out a sigh.

"I guess, come in." I shrugged, putting my book to the side with a sigh. Ashton carefully entered my room, closing the door behind him. I glanced quickly at the door as it latched shut, then to him. I scooted back into my headboard allowing room for Ashton to take his seat. He sat down with comfortability as if he'd been in my room a thousand times before.

"We were disrupting your reading...?" He started, reaching for my book.

"Yeah. On purpose." I muttered. He let out a scoff.

"On purpose?" He mocked with a smirk, now looking at me. I looked up at him, his gaze burning into mine. His face was only inches away.

"Yes, on purpose. You got louder after I left." I argued matter of factly. Ashton tilted his head, not breaking his gaze on me.

"You're cute." He chuckled. My heart began to pick up its pace, making my palms clammy. I rolled my eyes, looking away.

"Did you need something?" I huffed. I turned back to look at him, his face was suddenly noticeably closer. A small gasp escaped my lips as I almost connected faces with him. Ashton studied my features closely, meeting my eyes multiple times. My face slowly got hot as his face was merely inches from mine.

"I just wanted to come see you." He spoke softly, slowly moving his hand to my knee. A shiver was sent up my body at the touch of his rough hands against my skin. My breath hitched as he moved in closer, his hand carefully moved up my upper leg, drawing small circles on my inner thigh. I began to shift in my seat under his touch. Ashton looked back up to me, our eyes connected once more before he swiftly leaned into a kiss. I froze and gasped onto his lips, but swiftly, I melted into the kiss. He pulled back quickly, looking at me deeply.

"Is this okay?" He whispered. I nodded slowly, looking at him through my eyelashes. He swiftly pushed me onto my back, reconnecting our lips. The feeling of him on top of me sent a rush of euphoria throughout me, making the pit of my stomach flutter. He began to deeply kiss down my neck, then my chest.

"You're so beautiful." He muttered into my skin. He sat up on his knees and removed my tank top vigorously, following with my sweats. He sat himself beside me, bringing his fingers down to my slick slit. My back arched at the feeling of his cold, calloused touch.

"You're so wet for me, princess." He muttered into my ear. My chest rose and fell quickly as I watched him slowly pump two fingers in and out of my hole. I wrapped my arm around his, gripping into his toned bicep. My head lolled lazily into his shoulder, whimpers escaping my lips. He focused intently on his hand as he strategically worked his fingers on my sensitive bud and hole, making me slicker for him. He removed his two fingers, bringing them to my lips. I slowly opened my mouth, wrapping my lips around his slick fingers.

"That's a good girl." He smiled.

Ashton abruptly flipped us over, leaving me straddling him. I made my way down the bed, assisted him in removing his jeans and boxers. I returned to my position on top of Ashton, and reconnected our lips for another kiss. His calloused hands found my hips, guiding them slowly against his throbbing member. I whimpered at the feeling of him against my eager heat.

"You want my cock, princess?" He growled into my lips, digging his fingers into my skin. I nodded while biting my lip, suppressing a moan.

"I can't hear you. Tell me, baby. Tell me you want my cock." He breathed into my ear, grinding my hips harder into his member.

"P..please." I whimpered, "I want it." I squeaked out what I could. Ashton pulled my underwear to the side, now gliding his shaft against my wet folds. He chuckled with a smirk before speaking.

"Aww, you don't like being teased?" He mocked softly in my ear, budding his tip on my entrance. I let out a whine and rolled my head onto his shoulder, bucking my hips. He placed a hand on the back of my neck, and the other lining up his slick member to my entrance.

"You just wanna' get fucked, don't you?" He chuckled, sliding himself in swiftly mid sentence. I tossed my head back with a gasp at the sudden feeling of him filling me up. He placed a hand at my hip and began to bounce me up and down. I let out a squeal and placed my hands on Ashton's shoulders, digging my nails into his skin. He slapped a hand across my mouth with a chuckle. Abruptly, Ashton flipped us over, leaving me on my knees with my face against the mattress. He put a hand on the side of my face, the other on my hip.

"You're taking my cock like such a good girl." He groaned, leaning down to my ear. I whined and whimpered into the pillow, grabbing at any sheet in my vicinity.

"Fuck... Ash." I whined into the pillow. He gripped tightly onto my hip, keeping a steady hand on my face.

"You like being fucked like a slut, baby?" He growled. "You like being my slut?".

He fastened his rhythm, causing my legs to shake. I slowly began to feel my climax build, and so could he. He tossed his head back with a groan at the feeling of my tightening walls.

"You gonna' cum for me, princess?" He spoke. "You gonna' cum all over my cock for me?". My legs buckled as I released around Ashton's member, letting out a series of curses and cries. Ashton only quickened his pace to finish himself off, making me shake uncontrollably.

"Fuckk, Y/n." He whined, pounding vigorously into my sensitive hole. He gripped my hip tightly, pulling out and releasing his load onto my back with a groan. We sat in silence for a second to catch out breath before Ashton spoke.

"Are you okay?" He said gently, with genuine care in his eyes. I turned my head with a giggle and ran a hand through my now tangled hair.

"I'm okay." I sighed. "You need to get this off my back, though." I gestured to his mess on my back. He shook his head with a laugh, looking down. I gestured to a dirty towel I had already planned to wash later that day. I sat in my own thoughts as Ashton cleaned me up, before he took his seat next to me, handing me my clothes.

"So...What do we tell Y/b/n?" Ashton spoke with an awkward smirk. I sighed, also unsure. But I knew it'd be best that he didn't know.

"I can keep a secret if you can." I shrugged. Ashton let a smile take over his face as he pulled up his jeans.

The two of us were interrupted by the sound of my brother's bedroom door, Ashton looked at me with wide eyes.

"Go, go, get out." I mouthed, shooing him out of the room. He quickly gathered his shoes and made his way out of the door. Opening it once more and blowing a cheeky kiss. A giggle escaped me before I flopped back into my bed with my hands over my face, butterflies taking over my stomach as I fantasized about my newfound guilty pleasure.

[jklesbianjk]

Miles isn't used to physical affection and Hobie is just so touchy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1.

When Miles first met Hobie, he immediately noticed how touchy the other boy was. He tussled with Pav and was quick to offer Gwen a comforting pat on the back. Miles assumed it came from how long the other Spiders had known each other, but then Hobie clung to miles after he saved the little girl in Mumbatten. 

And rested his arm casually on Miles shoulder at HQ. And whispered something in Miles' ear about not enlisting. Miles didn’t really know what Hobie meant because all he could focus on was the ghost of Hobie’s breath in his ear and the scent of cigarettes. It wasn’t that Miles was uncomfortable with Hobie's physical affection. Miles just wasn’t used to being touched so casually by someone who isn’t his mom. 

2.

After Miles saved the multiverse and his dad with the help of his friends, Hobie gave him a dimension traveling watch. It screamed Hobi, scraps fastened together, but there was a touch of Miles there too.

The armband was black and the edges were colored with a red marker. It kind of looked like Miles' suit. 

“Here you go mate,” Hobie’s calloused guitarist fingers brushed Miles' pulse as he fasted the watch.

“Thanks man,” Miles felt himself grow hot. He still wasn’t used to this. Whatever this was. 

“It’s nothing. Now you can come visit me anytime you want.” Hobie said with a smirk as he leaned into Miles' space, holding Miles' wrist. 

“Would you want me to?” Miles' eyes flitted from Hobie’s hand on his wrist to his dark eyes.

“Yeah. I would.” Hobie said and dropped Miles’ wrist. 

3.

Miles was still getting the hang of the new watch the first time he portaled to Hobie’s dimension. So when he flew out of the portal and found himself on Hobie’s lap, he kind of wished he could go invisible forever. 

Hobie was seated on his bed with music sheets scattered around. “Well, well, well. Look decided to finally stop by,” Hobie secured Miles on his lap by placing a hand on his waist. 

“Heyyy, man. Still getting used to the watch.” Why hasn’t he moved, Miles thought to himself. But also why hasn’t Hobie moved Miles from his lap.

“It’s good to see you, love” Hobie’s hand started to rub circles on Miles' hip. The two Spidermen were close. Miles could see every detail of Hobie’s unique face. Miles traced his eyes over his face, scanning his piercings and finally looked into Hobies' eyes. Miles felt like he could see something , could sense something, he just wasn’t sure what. 

Gwen suddenly kicked open the door to Hobie room, holding take out in her hands.

“Miles? When did you get here?”

Leaping from Hobie’s lap, Miles moved across the room. “Just portaled in. What are you doing here?”

“We just finished band practice.” Hobie said, side eyeing Miles.

Hobie liked Miles and wanted to be close to him, but Hobie couldn’t read Miles yet. Hobie couldn’t tell if the other boy liked him too or was just clueless.

4.

Hobie found himself in Miles' universe after a particularly difficult villain. Seeing the other boy's face made him let go of the tension he was holding.

“Hobie, dude! You look messed up, you good?” Miles walked towards the window Hobie just crawled through. Scanning Hobie’s body for any injuries, Miles sighed when he found none.

Suddenly Hobie’s long arms reached out to Miles and pulled him to his chest. Hobie laid his head on Miles’ shoulder and released a breath.

“Can we just stay like this for a minute, yeah love?”

After a beat of hesitation, Miles gently wrapped his arms around Hobie’s waist. Miles knew Hobie wasn’t hurt, but he didn’t know how to touch the other boy. 

“Love, I’m not a fragile bird,” Hobie laughed into Miles’ neck. “You can hold me tighter than that.”

Miles shut his eyes and pulled Hobie closer, holding him tighter like he was scared Hobie would slip from his fingers like water. The reassuring pressure made Hobie let out a sigh of relief. 

5.

Hobie stayed over that night. After cleaning up in the bathroom, the taller boy found himself dressed in Miles’ clothes. The jersey and basketball shorts felt out of character, but Hobie loved the feeling of being closer to Miles. 

“Wow. You look so different in my clothes.”

“It’s not as cool as my usual clothing, that’s for sure, but I suppose it’ll do.”

“You look good.” Hobie’s eyes shot up to Miles.

“Yeah?” Hobie grinned.

“Yeah, you look softer. Less scary.”

“Come out of it.” Hobie rolled his eyes, falling back onto Miles' bed. Miles laughed and walked over to sit besides Hiobie. 

“My bed is small, but I don’t mind sharing.” Miles glanced over to Hobie.

Hobie felt a rush of heat. “I’m cool with whatever.”

“Cool. ” “Cool.”

“Then lay right, dude.”

“I don’t follow orders,” Hobie deadpanned, but moved to lay correctly.

They laid face to face and Miles didn’t feel nervous. This felt right to him.

Hobie liked Miles and wanted to be close to him. Slowly with a sense of hesitancy that was unlike Hobie, he reached out to Miles and pulled himself closer to the other boy.

“Alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

Hobie was overcome with the desire to kiss Miles, but deep down he wanted Miles to make that move. He wanted to feel like Miles liked him just as much as he liked Miles. So instead Hobie whispered his goodnights and drifted off to sleep. 

Miles looked at Hobie’s sleeping face and his feelings hit him all at once. Hobie touched Miles because he liked him. Hobie was here in his bed because he liked him. Hobie wanted to be closer to Miles because he liked him. 

And Miles liked Hobie. 

+1

The next morning Miles woke up alone. He felt disappointed because he was hoping to tell Hobie how he felt.

Miles quickly got dressed and freshened up to portal to Hobie’s dimension.

Stepping out of the portal into Hobie’s room, Miles searched for the other boy and found him sleeping on his bed.

Kneeling down beside the bed, Miles nudged the sleeping boy. “Hobie, hey man, what are you doing here?” Miles couldn;t help but feel a little saddened by Hobie's departure. 

“Miles?” Hobie said drowsily. “What are you doing here love?”

“I came looking for you. You left. Why did you leave?”

Hobie faced Miles. “I just didn’t want to disturb you too much. What if the old bottle and stopper saw?”

“You didn’t have to leave. They’re gone for the weekend anyways.”

“Oh. Nice”

“Yeah.”

“So you came all the way to my dimension just to ask me why I left?”

“Well yes and no. I wanted to tell you something too.”

“What is it?”

Miles looked into Hobie’s dark chocolate eyes, trailing down to his clothes. Miles thought about how the other boy helped him when no one else did and how he called him “love” in that voice and how his hair captivated him the first time he saw the Hobie without his mask. 

Miles couldn’t help himself. He reached out and began to lightly trace up Hobie’s arms, following his veins up to Hobie’s runway model collarbones. Hobie’s eyes fluttered shut and Miles’ fingers snaked up his neck, which was free of its usual punk adornments. Finally Miles gripped Hobie’s chin and he leaned in, kissing Hobie. 

Hobie kissed him back with a groan and wrapped his arms around Miles’ waist, pulling him onto the bed. Miles felt intoxicated. He has never touched someone with so much purpose, with so much want and love. 

Holding himself above Hobie, Miles kissed down to Hobie’s neck. Miles had never left a mark on anyone, but he wanted to leave one on Hobie. Motivated by the gasps of his name being released from Hobie’s full lips, Miles toyed with the end of the jersey Hobie wore, his jersey. 

“Can I?” Miles whispered onto Hobie’s lips, meeting Hobie’ eyes. Hobie couldn’t believe this was the boy who didn’t know how to touch him not too long ago. “Of course, my Brooklynn baby.”

Hearing the nickname, Miles peppered kisses over Hobie’s face before pulling the jersey over Hobie’s head. Miles placed his hands on Hobie’s waist and watched as the other boy sighed. 

“What? Is this okay?” Miles questioned, still feeling nervous.

Hobie shook his head with a huff, “It’s just that this is finally happening. You were driving me mad.”

“What?” Miles said, dazed. 

“Love, I’ve been hitting on you since we met.”

“I thought you were just big on physical affection with everyone.”

“Well yeah, but it’s always been different with you.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well to be fair-” Hobie shut Miles up with a deep kiss and maneuvered the boy into laying on his back. 

“You’ve had your fun, love” Hobie said with a glint in his eyes. “Now it’s my turn.”

Hobie leaned in and swallowed Miles’ playful protests.  

[my-own-walker]

kit walker smut where they’re having an affair, or if you don’t write stuff like that, that’s okay :)

In A House That Isn't Mine

note: OOOOOH SPICY BITTTCCCCHHH YES!!! gotta make Y/N the cheater here tho bc kit is too kind to cheat...

summary: a disgruntled housewife, whose husband is likely already cheating on her, takes her sorrows to our very own kit walker (pre-asylum).

warnings: adultery/cheating/affair/whatever tf you wanna call it, sm*t duh,

+++

I was growing tired of nights spent alone. I held a cigarette in my teeth while lighting it and proceeded to take a long drag. From my seat at the dining room table, I watched the window. Headlights passed by sparingly, each one getting my hopes up. 9 pm. It seemed likely that my darling husband would not be returning home tonight.

I was married off in 1959 at the age of 20. It was pseudo-arrganed. In that, my father was friends with my husband-to-be's father. They were business partners, actually. His boy was shy of "boy" status, at 30 years old. His father worried for his unmarried child, and my father offered 19-year-old me up. How dandy.

Upon meeting Keith, I was swept away by his chivalry and coyness. He was my prince charming. My own girlish fantasies of being a wife and mothering children blinded me from what was truly happening. We married in the Spring, just after my twentieth birthday.

It wasn't even when the ring was finally slipped on my finger that things changed. It was when we began having fertility issues. Issues that, let's just say, were not my fault in the slightest. But, in his eyes, it was me that couldn't give him a child.

That was when the late nights began. The child in me that was excited to welcome my husband home, prepare his dinner, and kiss him goodnight was crushed. He increasingly spent nights away from our home in the two years we were married.

It was only fair that my eyes began to wander as well. I received no attention from my own husband, so I sought it elsewhere.

My car, bought for me by my father as a wedding present, had a small leak in the tire. As part of my daily chores, I went to go get it patched up at a local repair shop. My car was my only freedom from the hell I was living in.

The old man who answered the phone at the shop earlier in the day was not the man who greeted me when I arrived. Certainly not. This was a man my age, with soft golden curls and a lazy smile. He moved with confidence and had a piercing gaze that made my stomach flip.

He fixed my tire quickly and handed me his home phone number scribbled on a scrap of paper with a wink. Kit Walker, MElrose-3437. I assume he hadn't seen the wedding band on my finger.

It was a while before I gathered the courage to actually call this 'Kit' character. The receiver suddenly felt heavy in my hand, knowing I was doing something wrong, but it was another night in which Keith didn't care to come home from 'work.'

Seeing Kit became a regular thing. My being married was no problem for him. We fooled around whenever I felt lonely, which was essentially all the time.

And on this particular night, the feeling was too much to bear. Seeing the fifteenth car pass by with no sign of my husband, I stood and walked to the phone.

'Hello?' his low voice spoke over the line.

'Hi Kit,' I replied.

'Y/N,' he sighed. I could hear him smiling in his voice. 'How are ya?'

'Come over?' I asked, wasting no time.

'You sure I can?' he spoke lowly.

'Yes,' I uttered. I hung up the phone and rushed to the bedroom to make it presentable. If my husband saw it fit to lay in some other woman's bed, it was perfectly fine that Kit laid in ours.

+

Kit arrived within the hour. He completely changed my perspective on life. The air felt lighter as soon as he entered the house. He smelled of tires and dry wood cologne. He wore a simple white t-shirt and motor-oil-stained jeans. He shut the door behind him with care and stepped further into the home, meeting me in the foyer.

'Hey beautiful,' he sighed, bringing me in for a kiss. I breathed him in. Light stubble scratched against my face as he held me tight.

I wore my flouncy floral pajama set that just barely covered my backside. The babydoll-style top was embellished with a blue satin bow, and beautiful puffed short sleeves. The shorts rode up slightly when I stretched my arms up to hold Kit tightly. It was only natural that his hands wandered downward.

‘I couldn’t wait to see you,’ I murmured into his lips. ‘It’s been too long.’ He pulled back and contorted his face.

‘Damn, it has been long, hasn’t it? Two weeks or so,’ he agreed. ‘I couldn’t wait to see you either.’ His tone turned darker as he turned his attention back to my lips.

‘Too long,’ I hummed. Kit continued to kiss me as I led the way through the foyer to the stairs. The dark wood creaked under our feet. The house was dim, with only the dining room and bedroom lights on. We ascended, lips still locked, fumbling with articles of clothing in the dark.

We arrived at my plush shared bedroom. Only my bedside lamp illuminated the space, giving it a warm pink glow. We, still locked in each other’s embrace, staggered onto the bed, knocking a picture frame off the wall. It fell onto the top of the headboard and pitched at an angle onto the floor. The glass shattered upon impact, the sound ringing out in the empty house.

I laughed up at Kit, who was positioned on top of me. He didn’t smile, though. Instead, he lurched off of me to go retrieve the broken picture. I watched as he flipped it over slowly, more glass falling out of it onto the carpet.

‘It’s your, uh, wedding photo,’ he coughed.

‘God dammit,’ I exclaimed. ‘I’ll have to get a new frame.’

‘Won’t he care?’ Kit muttered, looking up at me with concern on his brow.

‘Baby, I don’t think he’d notice if I died,’ I laughed. I stooped down onto the ground and began to help Kit pick pieces of glass out of the rug.

‘You looked so happy,’ he murmured, holding the photo. ‘With him.’

‘I suppose I was,’ I said nonchalantly, dragging the small waste bin from the corner of the room over to where the frame had broken. We both discarded the glass in our hands, Kit still holding the photo.

‘I can take that,’ I began, holding my hand out, ‘I’ll put it somewhere else.’

‘Do you still, uh, feel anything for him?’ Guilt was all over his face as he stared down at mine and Keith’s smiling faces.

'He doesn't even begin to interest me. Not even curiosity,’ I assured the curly-haired boy in front of me. I placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled the photo out of his hand with the other. ‘He could come home now and I wouldn’t even hide you.’

‘Y/N,’ he spoke.

‘I promise Kit Walker. Consider this picture an ancient relic. I only feel something for you,’ I continued. ‘He’s nothing to me.’

‘Y-you,’ he stammered, looking deep into my eyes. I grabbed his neck and pulled him in to kiss me again. He melted into my touch and embraced me fully, picking me up and tossing me onto the bed.

My pajama shorts were the first thing Kit tore off my body. The thin fabric slid down my legs with ease. To his surprise, I wasn’t wearing anything under them.

‘Shit, Y/N,’ he laughed, before tossing his own shirt to the side. ‘You’re too much.’ His fingers slid through my wet cunt’s folds before feeling their way directly onto my clit. I moaned sharply. He worked me to my core until I was nearly screaming. Then, he pulled away, resting back on his heels.

Having no time for teasing, I sat up to Kit’s level and hooked my arms around his neck, connecting my lips with his and guiding him roughly to a laying position. I straddled his legs and worked to unbutton his jeans. I tugged them rather ungracefully off his body and threw them aside.

His large erection was prominent, pitching his briefs up. I palmed the bulge, leaning over him to pepper kisses all over his skin. He whimpered and breathed heavily. I started at his collarbones, then worked down his stomach, taking my time as I reached the hem of his underpants. I slid his white briefs down his legs and watched his hard dick spring up.

I positioned myself atop his cock and started riding him, feeling his full length hit my middle. I arched my back in pleasure and felt Kit do the same. He continued to whimper and whine.

‘Oh, yes,’ he cried.

My cunt’s walls tightened around his massive length. I couldn’t help but yell out. Before no time, I succumbed to the waves of orgasm. Still riding him, though, I was determined to get him to finish.

Within a short time, Kit came inside me. I felt his hot load spill into me as he breathed raggedly. I moved off of him and flopped down onto my side, feeling the silken sheets on my skin. My head rested on his shoulder and my hand on his chest.

‘Fuck, Y/N,’ Kit breathed after a beat. ‘You are so divine.’

‘Just let me know when you’re ready to go again,’ I purred, propping myself up on my elbow.

‘Shit, let me get a cigarette first, woman,’ he laughed. I grabbed his face to attack him with kisses.

He surely helped me feel less alone.

+++

Idk what to say here so WAHHHHHHH

[angelsanarchy]

One Long Weekend: - Clyde/YN One-Shot Series CH 06

"We've already slept together. I figured it might be nice to enjoy the honeymoon phase." "You probably can't tell but I'm swooning."

Tagging: @roryculkinluvr @siriuslymooned @alalalaaallaaalaaa @crypticsewerslut @icarus-star @desert-springtime

(Please let me know if you want to be included in the list above!)

SATURDAY, 2:00PM

When Clyde woke up, his arm was trapped. He tried to pull it from underneath y/n's hold but she had a death lock on his right arm as he spooned her from behind. He could feel how flushed his face was just realizing how close they were. He didn't have time to be embarrassed though because she turned over to face him, eyes still closed and burying herself into his chest. His arm was free now but he decided to put it around her body instead of use it for himself.

She was still very much asleep as he pulled her tighter to his chest, enjoying the feeling of her holding onto him. He closed his eyes, trying to will himself back to sleep but the loud banging at the door startled the both of them to jump out of the bed. Y/n reached over and grabbed Clyde's aid and handed it to him, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Remind me to kick Johnny in the back of his knee later." She groaned rolling out of the bed to find her jeans. Clyde ran a hand through his hair and unlocked the door.

"Dude! Why did you lock the...no fucking way!" Johnny put his hand up for a high five and Clyde shook his head at him.

"Is there a reason you're busting the door down so early?" Clyde rubbed his eyes as Johnny pushed past him and gave y/n a cute wave.

"Dude it's 2PM. We were supposed to meet Dave at the shop to get the bass restrung for tonight. Didn't mean to break up your little love fest." Johnny teased.

"Give us a minute and we'll meet you at the van." Clyde held the door open for Johnny who seemed stunned to be getting kicked out. He put his hands up in defeat. Y/n still had Clyde's shirt on as she pulled her hair up in a messy knot atop her head.

"Good morning...or afternoon I guess." Clyde smirked.

"It was. How did you sleep?" Y/n asked Clyde reaching into her bag to find a black tank she normally wore under her jacket.

"Surprisingly well. How about you?" Clyde moved towards the small refrigerator and grabbed a small bottle of orange juice which he smelled before putting to his lips.

"Honestly, it was really nice. It was good to be able to sleep not listening to my roommate snoring or rain machine for a change." Y/n turned away from Clyde and pulled the shirt over her head to pull on her tank. Clyde tried not to choke on his juice catching a glimpse of her naked back.

"So I can drop them off first and then take you home. If we take them, they'll only be more annoying and I refuse to give them that satisfaction." Clyde laid out the plan offering his juice to y/n now that she was dressed.

"That's fine. I think my roommate shouldn't have a problem with me coming home now." Y/n followed Clyde out of his apartment watching as he didn't even bother locking the door. The guys were already hanging around the van waiting on them.

"You better had fixed my steering wheel you fuckers." Clyde pointed at Johnny with his keys dangling in his hand. Everyone loaded up in the van and Clyde waited for y/n to put on a seatbelt which he didn't bother doing when they originally got into the van.

"Can you idiots maintain until I get back? I want to drop her off. I won't be too long." Clyde explained instantly receiving a bunch of teasing. Y/n shook her head and looked at Clyde who was blushing.

"Do you not hang out with women at all or something? Your friends seem to think you're inept at being charming." Y/n joked as Clyde pulled away from the music shop.

"The majority of the women who come back to our place are just band hopping. It's out of the ordinary that anyone is there with me exclusively." Clyde explained.

"Oh so you think I was there for you exclusively? Someone thinks awfully high of themselves." Y/n teased pointing at the next street over for him to turn.

"My mistake. Was it because you wanted to take a ride in my sweet van? Maybe it was the subpar burger and fries?" Clyde knew that Y/n enjoyed his company. She had told him so herself but the thought did linger in the back of his mind that maybe she was just hanging out because it was convenient.

"This is me up here." Y/n pulled him from his thoughts to pull into an apartment complex. He looked around for an open space and parked.

"So...any plans this weekend?" He asked with a smile. Y/n laughed taking her seatbelt off and turning her body towards him.

"Why? You wanna hang out with me again already? I haven't even left the van yet." Y/n teased Clyde but he shook his head.

"We've already slept together.I figured it might be nice to enjoy the honeymoon phase." Clyde smiled a toothy grin making Y/n laugh.

"You probably can't tell but I'm swooning." Clyde wanted her to stay. He wanted more time with her. He wanted her to want to stay. He just didn't know how to go about asking without sounding like he had literally fallen in love over night. I mean he hadn't..he just really really wanted to be in her presence.

"I don't really have any plans but I probably need to make sure my roommate wasn't murdered by her lady of the night." Y/n opened the door and Clyde wasn't sure what to say.

"Y/N!" They both jumped hearing someone scream her name.

"What the hell?" Clyde tried to look at where the screaming was coming from.

"Oh that's my roommate." Y/n hopped out of the car and shut the door as she looked up to the balcony three floors up.

"Hey! I was just coming up to check on you." Y/n said seeing her roommate in her familiar robe, very flushed.

"Yeah about that. I'm going to need you to do me a HUGE solid." Clyde had gotten out of the car and stood next to her.

"Who's that? I thought you just got a really weird Uber ride." Her roommate pointed to him.

"I'm Clyde..." He waved up at her.

"Hi Clyde, thank you for not murdering my roommate." Y/n shook her head and interrupted her.

"What is going on? Why are you screaming for me from the balcony?" Y/n asked watching her roommate glance over her shoulder.

"Listen I love you, you know this but this girl is my dream girl and she's agreed to stay for the long weekend. She knows I have a roommate but I told her you were on vacation on the East coast." Y/n was so confused as to why she would say the East coast. She's never even been to the East coast.

"Well news flash, I don't know anyone on the East coast and you know I can't stay with my dad unless he's in bad condition so what do you want me to do exactly?" Y/n threw her arms in the air annoyed.

"Clyde's a good guy, aren't you? Can you stay with Clyde for the rest of the weekend?" Y/n felt heat on her face from the imposition her roommate just threw on someone she has literally known for 24 hours.

"Dude no! You cant just-"

"I mean she's more than- you're more than welcome to crash at my apartment. I don't mind at all." Clyde cut y/n off and she stared at him. He was far too sweet for his own good.

"See Clyde doesn't mind. Clyde wants you to stay. Please just do this for me. I will owe you one. PLEASE!" Y/n chewed on her lip looking from her roommate towards Clyde.

"Are you sure? I mean you don't have to say yes to her just because she's being a complete ass." Y/n lowered her voice and Clyde smiled.

"I told you, honeymoon phase. It's cool, I promise." He nudged her arm and Y/n looked back up.

"You're the worst, you know that?" Y/n gave her roommate the middle finger. Her roommate blew kisses to her thanking her and Clyde as quietly as possible.

"Here, I threw a few things in the bag just in case. Some clothes phone charger, underwear, deodorant-" She tossed the bag down at the two of them and Clyde caught it as a few of the contents started to spill out, a box of condoms hit his foot.

"Oh wow." Clyde reached for them to put them back in the bag.

"DUDE! What the fuck!?" Y/n yelled but her roommate had already run back into the apartment. Y/n covered her face shaking her head. Clyde kept his thoughts to himself and smirked as they walked back to the van together. Clyde had never been so happy for two lesbians spending a long weekend together. Now all he had to do was not screw things up in the next few days.

[tgmsunmontue]

Life is too short to waste time matching socks... (5/5) COMPLETE

Hangster and Bob/Javy/Nat - set post mission with the Dagger Squad having been made a permanent squad.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

                A week later nothing seems to have changed. Bradley and Hangman are still polite and friendly with each other, Hangman still flirts in his own terrible way and Bradley continues to be completely oblivious that he’s flirting. He hasn’t stopped staring after Hangman when he thinks the other isn’t looking. It’s painful.

                “They’ll figure it out, they’re both smart. I mean. Despite a lot of evidence to the contrary, and the shit I give them both, they are intelligent,” Natasha says, a little annoyed that they’re discussing Hangman and Rooster when she’s got both Javy and Bob in bed. Finally. But they agreed to take things slow, so they’re all dressed in pajamas, but matching ones because Javy had gotten them as gifts and had mumbled something about still sleeping together even when they were apart.

                “But they’re not acting like they’ve figured it out.”

                “Do you seriously think they’d be acting differently?” Bob asks, snuggling down further between them, the only one of the three of them happy to fall asleep in the middle, liking the combined heat of all their bodies with no need to stick half his body out from under the blankets to cool down.

                “It’s been a couple of days, give them some time to adjust.”

                “Adjust to what? They’re fucking each other, not getting personality transplants,” Natasha mutters, even if she hasn’t actually seen any evidence that they’re anything more than friends…

                “So the hope that they might be nicer when they’re getting dicked down is in vain and I should shelve it?”

                “Oh, no. Jake is definitely easier to deal with when he’s getting laid on the regular.”

                “So is Bradley...” she murmurs, because he has been much happier this week.

                “Your best friends are weird.”

                Natasha and Javy both grumble, because there isn’t any disputing it. She’d definitely put money on them finally getting their shit organized though.

                “Who is your best friend?” Javy asks.

                “Uh. Well. Both of you…”

                “Oh Bob…” Natasha says, rolling over so she can face him rather than be held by him, nestles into him and captures his lips in a soft kiss. Going slow she reminds herself. That’s what they all agreed on.

                “Well, you’re lucky you have normal best friends…” Javy says, and he’s kissing the back of Bob’s neck, which is a little unfair because she knows it’s one of his most sensitive spots.

                “Normal is overrated,” Bob says.

                “And we’re your girlfriend and boyfriend as well remember…” Natasha says, catching Javy’s eye.

                “Yeah. Yeah. I know…”

                She watches as Javy kisses his fingertips, reaches over and presses the same fingertips to the apple of her cheek.

                “Sweet dreams. Both of you.”

…            …            …

                “Come on, in here…”

                “We’re not teenagers, we don’t need to sneak around.”

                “Excuse you, pretty sure there’s money riding on whenever we finally get our shit together.”

                “Is our shit together?”

                “You know it is. Now come on…”

                Jake hooks a finger in Bradley’s waist band and drags him toward the little used teaching room. Little used because the carpet got wet and it never dried out properly, so the room always smells musty and needs to be aired out for at least an hour before use. That and it’s at the end of a long corridor so it’s simply avoided and not a room people generally walk past.

                God, the sneaking around is stupid and juvenile and they will get in trouble if they are caught, but also it’s kind of hot how they just can’t seem to keep their hands off each other now that they’re letting themselves touch. Also he notes that Jake only pushes for this when they’re technically not on the clock, either before or after when they’re meant to be working. So a technicality, but definitely one Jake would argue until he was out of breath.

                “Wanna get my mouth on you…”

                “Don’t need to ask me twice,” Jake gasps and he’s already leaning against the door, hips flexing beneath Bradley’s hands. His knees click as he kneels and he hopes Jake appreciates the pain he’ll no doubt experience later. Not that he’ll have any regrets, but he’ll still complain and make Jake run his hands over him in the vague facsimile of a massage. It’ll probably lead to more sex, but that’s on the cards anyway. He runs his nose up the fly of Jake’s pants, presses his face into the warmth there and grins as Jake groans and presses back.

                “Oh hell no, we do not need to see this…”

                Jake goes stiff and pulls away and Bradley stands so fast he gets a head rush, turning to the voice and oh shit… Coyote, Nat and Bob are all standing there and they’ve clearly had more time because all three of them are tucking their shirts back in as they come closer, out of the corner where they’d obviously been… doing exactly what he and Jake had been about to do. Similar enough anyway.

                “I knew it! I fucking knew it!” Bradley says to Jake.

                “Yeah babe, we both did. You three aren’t subtle,” Jake says to the others and Coyote just flips him a finger which Jake returns with a grin.

                “And you think the two of you are?” Natasha asks, and she sounds pissed and Bradley knows he’s going to get a sharp dressing down. “Okay… Now isn’t the time to get into this. How about we all go our respective ways and we can meet up for breakfast tomorrow,” Natasha suggests, and Bradley is already nodding. Getting out of here and maybe drowning his embarrassment with alcohol would be a good idea. Or letting a good orgasm wash it away works as well.

                “Dinner. I have plans most of tomorrow,” Jake counter offers and Bradley frowns. They don’t have plans, other than being in bed all day… Oh.

                “Lunch, or even brunch. I’m giving you the shovel talk.”

                “Why did you work so hard to get us together if you’re going to turn around and give me the shovel talk?”

                “Hangman, the shovel talk is a right of passage. Also you’d already put in some work, I was just getting very sick of him being an oblivious idiot.”

                “Hey!” Bradley objects, he’s not that bad. They’ve made it work.

                “Bradley. I love you. Your attention to detail and ability to hit targets is magnificent. However Hangman could have walked around with a t-shirt with property of Bradley Bradshaw on it and you would have made a comment about the amazing coincidence of there being someone else having the same name as you and also wanting to fuck Hangman.”

                “For the record, I don’t think you’re quite that bad. But I did think I was pretty obvious.”

                “He was,” Coyote and Bob say at the same time and Bradley takes in Coyote’s arm around her waist and how Bob is also holding Coyote’s other hand.

                “We’re talking about this…”

                “Of course we are. But not tonight.”

                “Always knew you were the smartest of all of us. We will see you at dinner tomorrow.”

                “Brunch!”

                “We’ll see.”

…            …            …

                The only benefit of watching Bradley get dressed is knowing that he’ll later be allowed to undress him. He won the battle of meal time and they’re meeting for an early dinner.

                “Here. You can have the third pair as well…”

                He hands the third pair of socks over and Bradley looks at them, lips slowly curling into a smile as he takes in the little peppers and flames with the words hot stuff all over them. Then he’s pressing them into Jake’s chest and giving his a filthy kiss.

                “They’re much better suited to you.”

THE END

Additional head canon which doesn't fit the fic - they end up gifting each other socks for birthdays and totally using them to give each other subtle messages about what kind of sex they're in the mood for. It starts off as an accident the first time - one peach emoji and one eggplant sock and Jake making a quip about mixing things up but then it becomes a THING.