#prep for new york trip

[studymoons]

happy autumn!

lately i’ve been catching up on research, reading for fun, and interview prep but late september, i went to california to accompany my partner during his conference trip and enjoyed an amazing mitski concert while i was there. recent goals have just been to be patient for interview invites and to enjoy the time i have in new york before i head back to california for a research elective. i love autumn and i wish it was longer! but maybe part of why it’s so lovely is its ephemeral nature.

also i made a just for fun substack if anyone would like to read it here

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Two birthdays and a new girl to call sis - Stepbro! Nate Jacobs x reader

tw : stepcest, cnc, creampie

It all started after Nate's dad moved out. Well, a bit after that to be precise, when Cal Jacobs finally found Derek. From then it was all sunshine and roses for the couple. But for the presumably youngest siblings in the respective families, it was a catalyst that would turn their entire lives around. They just didn't know it yet.

Nate thought that he would mind his dad leaving and putting the already rocky family dynamic of the Jacobs clan in shambles. But it was the opposite of that. His mom eventually cleaned the lobby and stopped drinking wine before noon. His brother made appearances and not just at the annual Chili booth. And most importantly of all, his dad was out of the picture, most days. With Cal gone, Nate's nightmares stopped. He stopped watching the CDs obsessively, stopped playing football as if his life depended on it, hell he even stopped tormenting both Maddy and Cassie. Now the only thing underneath his arm in the hallways was a stack of SAT preps and college applications. And that was all about to change at the drop of a hat when his dad came to stay with them for a couple of weeks. Bringing his boyfriend and Nate's new stepsister in tow. And she was a new challenge for Nate, something for him to bend and break and corrupt. She was a plate of cookies under a cellophane wrap with a note that said ''Don't touch''. And he was craving sugar more than ever. And he intended to get it, in any way he had to.

Your life had been perfect. And then it crumbled completely. It happened gradually as these things often do. Innocently enough you urged your brilliant, yet lazy brother to actually apply himself and go to a good college, instead of relying on a safety school just because he could stay home. And he did, leading him to get accepted into his dream school, which was, unfortunately, all the way in New York. Sure, he moved to college and left you with your dad. And he, in turn, was going through a midlife crisis and an empty nest syndrome all at once. It was clear from the moment Derek broke down crying as his son was packing still and couldn't stop reminiscing about family all through your trip to the school. So in order to bring back old habits he had turned to have his first drink since you were born and all in a familiar spot. And that's how he met Cal fucking Jacobs. In the same bar, they had shared their first dance together, it all came back rushing at them. And that's how you got a new stepdad. And subsequently, courtesy of the lovely motel, bedbugs. 

It's not like your dad rushed headfirst into this. It accumulated over time, just like the aforementioned vermin. Cal and he went on dates, and after a few relatively expensive meals on his side and ''your dad kept yours and your brother's birthdays as a password for everything and you were not above snooping'' on yours, you got introduced to the man. After a few more weeks of awkward ''family'' outings, Cal moved in. You made so many jokes about Uhauling that your dad almost shipped you off in one to the dorms in New York. All humor, aside you were finally happy that Derek had found the right partner after so many years. And then came the bedbugs. Awful bites that left you itching for weeks and restless. It got so bad that you couldn't sleep at night, instead you tasked yourself with hunting them down and squishing them, watching the blood linger on your dainty fingers. When Cal saw you one night stripping your bedding away and bringing it to the patio, he knew that this was his fault and that it had to stop. So he did what he had to do to stop this. He offered for you and your dad to go live with him in the Jacobs family home.

Nate simply came back from school and was greeted by 2 unfamiliar faces and one that was too familiar.

''Cal, I mean dad, what are you doing here? And who are these people.'' He vaguely gestured between the aging man and the girl that was around his age.  

"Well, this is my boyfriend and his daughter. I just started living with them.’’

  Nate took in the suitcases behind them. No way. He started asking

"So, what, you're just gonna waltz back into our lives out of nowhere with two strangers in toll. How is my mom on board with this?''

''You know your mother. She likes watching me suffer. I secretly think she got me here to see how long I can stay without cracking. Also, she can't say no to a couple of hundreds.'' Cal said smugly.

''Wonderful, you're calling the woman who birthed me and cared for me while you were gone a greedy sadist.'' Nate countered back.

''Son, let's not get into it. We have company after all.'' Cal tried to smooth things over but to no avail. 

''Oh, I forgot. You have a new family now. I wouldn't wanna scare off your perfect boyfriend and his daughter. How ironic that you now have a girl, when you can't even raise one of your sons to be a proper man. And I don't fucking mean a guy that can bench press 250, I mean a guy who doesn't hurt other people. You had to leave for me to realize how fucked up you made me, how toxic this dick-measuring contest that we were having was. I thought it ended for good, but look at me, I'm back exactly where I was the day when you walked out the door. Just like you wanted. Well, I'm not giving you the satisfaction of seeing me lose it again. See you around I guess, I'm sure I've made a great first impression.'' With that, Nate walked away and slammed the door to his room shut. Soon enough though there was a gentle knock on it. 

''Cal, get the fuck away from there,'' Nate yelled. 

''It's not Cal. It's me. I didn't introduce myself earlier, I thought that it would be nice to have someone in your corner.'' You answered. Still, on edge, he said,

''What, are you doing this because you’re feeling guilty or something? I'm usually not like that, I should be the one coming to you to apologize, but my dad, he has a certain effect on people.''

''Oh, trust me, I know. He's so grating, sometimes I just can't stand him. And everyone sees that except of course my dad. Do you have any tips and tricks for me to tune him out or something?'' You replied.

''Unfortunately, there isn't a way. But I recommend avoidance. Here, sit and talk with me a little. That way, we both won't run into him.''

''Are suggesting we work together, would you like to form an alliance with me.''

''Absolutely I do.''

''Okay, I trust any man that finishes my ''The Office'' quotes, I'm in. So, let's get to know each other. Is playing 21 questions too childish?'' 

''It is but I'll let it slide if you let me ask you first.''

''You have a deal.''

''Why did you move in here and not stay anywhere else?''

''You mean besides the fact that the bed bugs that are infesting our home right now are literally from the only motel in town. Well, also I'm homeschooled and need a place for my dad and my tutor to work with me in peace, can't imagine this to be a single room. So from time to time, I will also be invading your living room.'' a part of Nate wanted to make a reference to Mean Girls. But he just let you talk.

''How does college prep feel like,'' you asked

''Really, that's your most burning question for a guy who had a screaming match with his own dad 10 minutes ago.''

''Hey, I like to give people a second chance. So hit me with it.''

''Well, I do good enough to land a few sports scholarships, so it's not as intense. But when I'm not relying on those it gets heavy. I can give you tips, also let me know which brochures you want so I get them from the counselor's office for you.'' Nate went on. 

''Thanks. Your turn.''

''Are you an only child? I mean, there's not gonna be more unexpected quests, right I don't think my house can handle it.''

''I do have an older brother, but he's not set on coming back anytime soon. So I might be a homeschooled jungle freak, but at least I'm not a spoiled brat.''

Spoiled brat. Nate could make you that, a girl that's desperate and begging for him to stick his cock inside her, even just the tip, anything. As soon as he allowed himself to imagine that, he had to stop. It had been a while since he got laid or watched any porn, so of course, a thought like that was expected. Sensing that it got the better of him, he tried to continue the game.

''Sorry, I spaced out. I'm back now, so ask away.''

''Am I missing out on not going to school like a normal person?''

''If you like kegstands and one-night stands, sure. Other than that, not much. I'm sure you're just as smart as anyone in my class, if not smarter.'' Nate said, clearly playing to what you wanted to hear. But then, surprising even himself he asked

''Do you think this thing between our dads will work out.''

''I mean this isn't like that one gay video game where all the dads in town date each other just because they're dads. Those two really have loved each other since high school. My father used to talk about Cal all the time, the one that got away. So don't be surprised if you have me as a stepsister these days. Even if that doesn’t necessarily align with what we actually want.'' 

While a stepsister had not been on Nate's bingo card for the year, it sure was now. Through you, he would achieve the perfect revenge on his dad. Because if Cal could ruin Nate and his family, Nate could do the same to Cal. It might have been cruel to take an innocent girl as collateral damage in his plan, but you know what they say, by any means necessary. He would have to get that fucked up movie he watched on demand with Maddie, Cruel Intentions, but the plot to that didn't really fit this situation. They were more like Clueless. At least that's what he thought until a string of unexpected events proved him wrong. But that would be getting ahead of the story and we cannot rush the plot here.

''Okay, I think that this day has been a little much for me, so I'll just head to your living room and get some sleep.''

You yawned and said

''If you want, you could use my room for tonight, or always. I don't mind taking the couch.''

''Thank you, but I'll feel super bad. Plus I'm staying only for a few days.''

If only you knew how wrong you were. You did find that out at a ''family'' dinner. Through some twisted turn of fate, everyone in the house could eat together and they did. Nate's mom and brother were sitting on one side, followed by him, you, your dad, and finally Cal. Then at the end of the dinner, everyone was enjoying dessert when the former Jacobs family patriarch stood up and tapped his knife against his long empty wine glass.

''Everyone, I have an announcement. We're getting engaged.''

''You're getting what. But you barely know each other.'' you protested. You also absentmindedly gripped Nate's arm for support. He, in turn, took that as an invitation to squeeze your thing, his fingers lingering on your skin a little longer than appropriate.

''We've known each other since high school, It may seem a little rushed to you, but to us, it has been long overdue.'' Your dad interjected in a stern tone.

''Well, Cal, it seems like you have a pattern. At least I'll just be a guest at this shotgun wedding '' Nate's mom replied.

''How did you even decide that? This changes everything, you're not just playing house anymore, you're introducing complete strangers into our families. '' Nate added.

''Yes, isn't this exciting? Also, you can't call yourselves strangers, we're already living together and eating together. In fact, just look at this table. We are all sitting here as if this is our thousandth meal together. It inspires me to have nights like this for the rest of my life.''  Cal said

''Yeah, what a night indeed. I think we should all sit and process this information in our own way.'' Nate replied and demonstratively left the table. Surprisingly, you followed him out.

Nate helped you into his car and drove to the store, where you got ice cream and he got beer and you both ended up sharing them in the backseat. When you snuggled into him, tipsy and tired, he wanted to leave everything and just devour you in the back of the jeep. But Nate wanted you to be fully into him when he had you, to be aware and feeling every single inch of him. So he resisted and just drove to the house, where he carried you to the couch and tucked you in.

Nate has planned to ignore you, for the time being, to make you come to him. After all, that's what worked with Cassie, leave them cold and they will be begging for you. Not that he expected you to send him continuous texts like the blonde, but anything was a start. And it seemed to be working. You'd ask to go somewhere with him, forgoing your usual bus route, trying to get him to drive you. Or you would fake being a family with a proposal for movie night. And as much as he wanted to spend a couple of hours in front of the TV watching you laugh at a cheesy movie, he refused. He used late-night practices and early morning classes as an excuse. He even considered faking a date but realized that it would do more harm than good.

So he was beyond surprised to see you dolled up on the couch with a much older guy. You were studying, by the looks of it, textbooks and highlighters all over his mom's expensive leather sofa. But you, you seemed to treat this as more of a date, twirling a pencil in your pigtails, how predictable of you, and asking the man to repeat basic concepts that you already knew. But Nate could not control you, as much as he wanted to. He decided to not embarrass you, by asking if you had just bought your pink gloss or if your dad was aware of how short your skirt was. He just said.

''Hey, sis. Working hard as usual. Let me know when you're done, we can work on dinner together, make it a little easier on the old folks when they come home, how about that.''

And you just barely registered him, responding back with a hmm and still not taking your eyes off of the older man. Oh, Nate was going to get you back for this later. If you even remembered to come to him, that is.

But you did, like an obedient puppy. He first looked you up to see any signs of ruined lipgloss or a rumple in your shirt. When he found none, he relaxed and headed to the kitchen.

''So, who was that?'' Nate said, trying to keep his voice steady.

''Oh, that's my private tutor. Daddy hired him, cause well I'm kinda shit at math and it runs in the family. So I'm getting all the help I can get.'' Daddy, you said fucking daddy. He swore that you were giving him kinks that he thought were disgusting before. Two could play the teasing game. And Nate was about to up the heat, literally. As soon as you looked away, he turned the oven up and asked you to take out the food. Watching you touch the hot metal of the door and wince, he replied.

''The oven mitts are always missing when you need them. Here, I'll help you out.'' 

Nate took off his shirt and watched as you admired his toned body. Bet your tutor did not have this. He wrapped the shirt over the handle and opened the oven door, letting the dish cool down. But his temper still hadn’t. So he asked,

''And what's the deal with that your tutor? You acted a little different than usual around him. Do you have a crush on him or something?''

''Is it that obvious, god? But yeah I do. ''

''Isn't that kind of, you know ... '' sick is the word he wanted to use.                    ''Unconventional, yes. But I do love a taboo romance. In theory, I haven't had any. So don't go snitching to my dad.'' you replied

‘’Sure, for a price, the best way to get silence is to buy it.’’

‘’I have 5 bucks to my name, take it or leave it.’’

‘’You think I’m that cheap.’’ After that, he grabbed a wooden spoon and smacked your ass with it. To his surprise, instead of scolding him or cursing you let out a moan. Turning red you made an excuse and then scrambled out of the room quickly.  Meanwhile, Nate added this interaction to his spank bank which was now becoming a literal spank bank.

Despite all the moments charged with sexual tension between the two of you, Nate seemed to keep his morals intact. Or at least keep up this cat-and-mouse game for a little longer. But then that night came (spoiler alert it wouldn’t be the only thing coming). Nate had woken up in the middle of the night, very thirsty. While he was salty that you were into another man, he also made your food salty. He made his way down the stairs, watching his footsteps in order to not wake you. But judging by the sounds he was hearing you were not asleep. He just saw movement under the couch blanket and then he was seeing red. Nate dramatically tossed the blanket from you, eager to beat up the person who was defiling his sister. Instead, he saw your shocked face, your phone on your chest and your hands were desperately clutching something small that was vibrating. At least you were alone. That still didn't calm his anger enough, because you were still getting pleasure from something that wasn’t him. 

‘’Nate don’t look’’ you said, before feeling a hand go over your mouth. And despite your stepbrother actually not looking before, he did now. Your face was red and your pupils were wide. Your nipples were hard and visible through your shirt. Your shorts were pulled down, with your panties to the side, revealing your slick cunt. Nate cupped your wetness and for a minute he contemplated starting to fuck you right then and there. But one look at your concerned face was enough to stop him right in his tracks. If he was gonna do this, at least you had to enjoy it. So he pulled your arms closer to himself instead and squeezed them a bit too hard, causing you to drop whatever you were holding. First, he reached for your phone to check if you were on call with someone. What he saw was more surprising. You were listening to an audiobook about a steamy romance between a girl and her stepbrother. Your own stepbrother took pleasure in leaning down to where you were and whispering the synopsis in your ear in a low voice. He could practically feel your heartbeat against him and he knew that you were feeling his hardon. Then he retreated back and grabbed the second item you had been holding. It was a necklace that he had seen you wearing a couple of times, the long shape of the pendant always perplexing him. And all this time it had been a vibrator. This just got a lot more interesting

‘’Promise to be quiet and I won’t snitch on you,’’ Nate said and retreated his hand from your mouth. But as soon as you began explaining he pressed the vibrator right against your clit.

‘’Naaaateee’’ you moaned unexpectedly and just let him do it, chasing your pleasure. After all, there was nothing wrong with him simply holding your sex toy against you. It was taboo at best. As long as that was all your stepbrother did it would be fine. But of course Nate had other plans. He put two fingers inside of you, fuck you were so tight and clenching around him. For a second he didn’t move them because you were so tense, so he focused the vibe on your clit until you opened up for him. 

‘’Please, be gentle. It’s too much.’’. He slowed down his pace, almost pulling them out of you entirely.

‘’Should I stop then,’’ he asks as he’s barely touching you. You just shake your head, too shy to actually say it. 

‘’Keep going, I just wanna cum, make me.’’ you clench against him, and thrust, fucking yourself on his fingers. He trails the vibrator against your opening, coating it in your juices and then brings it back to its place. He then speeds up his fingers inside of you, thrusting in and out and curling them up. After a couple minutes you cum.

You’re so dazed that you just close your eyes and pant. For a few minutes you don’t feel anything but pleasure. And then you realize he’s teasing your opening with the tip of his penis. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth,and you’re about to protest when he kisses you and thrusts inside of you.

You thrashed around like a woman possessed hushedly whispering ‘’no’’ and ‘’stop’’.

He pressed his body against you and thrusts again, chasing his pleasure.

‘’Nate, it hurts, this is my first time.’’ you say. You still haven’t gotten used to his size or his tempo. So he stops for a moment and moves slowly, filling you out completely. Then pulling it out almost to the end. He does this a couple more times, until you say ‘’okay, give me more.’’. Apparently that’s all you need to say for him to go absolutely feral. He spreads your legs further and lifts them by your head. Then he moves in the space in between them and starts shallowly thrusting. You cum and he doesn't stop. He comes and he doesn’t stop. You feel his seed inside you, hot and sticky as he thrusts a couple more times. He then rolls down to the floor for a few minutes. Once he’s regained his breath he takes you in his arms in a bridal carry and gets you up the stairs to his room, his cum dripping down your legs. So much for family bonding

[babybratzmaraj]

Agora Hills

Marshawn Lynch starring as Himself

You starring as Yourself

Summary: You and Marshawn are in New York! You two returned to the hotel room to indulge in some beautiful activities

This fic contains: stronggg sexual content, heavy amounts of negro tongue,lil bit of drug use, you get called a bitch once, pet names, some nasty shit thanks to my clit!

A/N: I have no words. imma whore and the world shall know I'm such, under this name LKJHGFVBNJK like comment reblog for more, and as always folks, have a black ass day.

song that inspired this here:

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair

You walked into the hotel room with Marshawn trailing behind you smiling at your giddiness. Marshawn had a business opportunity to expand his ‘Beast Mode’ franchise and wanted you to come, fuck that, he forced you to come along with him. He loved you dearly and be damned if he left yo pretty ass at home, so he dragged you to the big apple, New York City! Didn’t think you’d love it but you were having fun and enjoying yourself, your man made sure of that.

“That fuckin’ manly ass boy kept taking up space in that fuck ass elevator,” You finally said what was on your mind. You, Your man, a family of 4, and a 6-foot man crowded the elevator and you were tired of it already, your man shielded you once he realized that you were uncomfortable around him. He was just standing too fuckin close.

“Glad you waited till you was in here, I damn near had to cover your mouth in that damn thing.” He rolled his eyes plopping down on the bed and you giggled at how many times he had to squeeze your hand on that long elevator ride to keep your mouth shut.

You kicked off your jeans and joined him on the bed, straddling him, smiling at each other before you laid your head on his chest. “Lemme get a taste baby,” you heard him beg, taking his big long arms and grabbing two handfuls of your ass, massaging them both softly.

“No!” You laughed

“Why not?”

“Because I’m dirty! we been out all day, been sweating and shit, bout ready to throw this wig off and call it a night.”

“Ain't nun wrong with a little seasoning,” he shrugged his shoulders as you erupted into laughter.

He didn’t care if you were sweating all day, freezing your tits off, or sat down too long, if he wanted to eat you, he would, and you would love every single millisecond of it, life too short to not enjoy some head every now and then from someone. You rose up and sat perfectly in his lap, flipping your hair over into a side part, you fiddled with your nails to avoid eye contact.

Your trip prep consisted of cheap but good shit, your nails came from Walmart, your wig came from Amazon, and the clothes you wore you were either forced to buy when you touched down in new york or his clothes he didn’t care if you wore, He didn’t like the shit one bit, ‘the best shit for my favorite woman’ is what he would alllllways say when he caught you buy shit from the low, but you felt bad, you didn’t grow up with shit and hated asking others for help, you didn’t like being dependent on other people because you were afraid of them throwing it back into your face.

But he was different, he wanted to spoil you, he wanted you to have his card and enjoy yourself, get you a fat burrito bowl from Chipotle with a side of Fries and a Hi-C from McDonald’s, it felt nice but you hated him spending his money on you.

“Come here,” he said, raising to help you off the bed and readjust his shirt that you wore, and man you wore it good. You wore his jersey from his football days and you were shocked that you could fit it and it fit you well, hugging your curves and hiding your tummy, which he hated but he wanted you to be his happy princess.

He held your hand all the way to the balcony, looking down at the tiny world, the giddy people walking around, the cars and taxi cabs zooming around and cutting corners, everyone looked like legos and you chuckled at every other person doing emotes and shit.

“Look at this,” he trailed behind you, wrapping his arms around your body, holding you tightly like a warm teddy bear. “This shit is beautiful, even the sky,” You look up and damn it was beautiful. The clouds danced with the stars, twinkling to a rhythm that Black Jesus had his choir sing to the heavens rooftops, the sunset shining through the colorful sky and painting an ethereal picture right in front of your eyes. You were glad he picked the 16th floor just for this view, you’d do anything to see it on a daily basis.

He spun you around and your eyes met his, you saw the sunshine on his face, giving his skin golden kisses all over his face. You gave him quick pecks on the cheek but he wanted more, he grabbed the right side of your face and guided it to his lips, kissing you so sloppily and beautifully, his tongue dancing with yours as he held you closer to him, his hunger for you growing more and more.

You whined as he pulled away from the kiss, leaning forward to get more of him. “Pleaseee, I want some moreee.”

“Why you being impatient? and Do you not know your words?” He questioned you, throwing your head in a frenzy.

He cupped your face in his hand and placed more kisses on you, trailing them from your neck down to your stomach.

“I love when you wear my jersey, I love it even more when I get to fuck you in it.” He smiled up at you and you met him with a flustered grin. Another thing he loved was you wearing his clothes, at first he hated it because you kept taking his good clothes, but the more you took, the more he fell in love with the idea, even to the point that he would take you shopping with him and purposely pick the clothes you chose because you both knew you were going to steal it.

He tugged your panties off, you shook your legs to make it easier for him. A cool breeze distracted you by sending shivers throughout your body. He hooked your left leg onto his shoulder as he dove into you, flicking his tongue on your clit over and over again.

You threw as your hair blew with the wind, dancing in the breeze as he ate you earnestly, moving his tongue wherever your body moved too. You moaned into the air as a smile grew wider on your face, you gyrated your hips in a circle, chasing his tongue around to get him to where you wanted him to be. “Fuck,” You hissed when he finally inserted his two middle fingers inside of you, pumping them deep into you.

He unhooked your leg from his shoulder as he rose to tower you, not fuckin up his motion, he gripped your throat and smushed his lips on yours, his tongue desperately searching for yours but you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut long enough.

He jerked your head forward to look him in his eyes, “You finna cum babygirl? You finna cum all over daddy’s fingers?”

“Yes, Yes, Fuck yes!” You chanted while fucking his fingers, the corner of his lips pulling into a devilish smirk.

He loved watching you cum, the way your body danced with your orgasms, your moans turning into whimpers of pleasure right down to your eyes fluttering like a butterfly in a field of beautiful flowers, You were the flower and he was the boy frolicking through the field enjoying every second of it.

You gripped his shoulder for support with your back pressed against the railing, You opened your eyes to the sight of the beautiful sunset, which was the last thing you saw before he pulled an orgasm out of you, pressing his thumb on your clit and making tiny circles on it. Twitching with every move he made, you grabbed his wrist to steady his hand.

“Fuck, Baby pleaseee,” You begged but he did not listen. Marshawn was a pleaser, always has been always will be, he will not stop until he felt like you were pleased, and you weren’t just yet.

He turned you around so now your tummy was pressed against the railing. He pressed himself against you, sticking his fingers in your mouth, moaning at you suckling on his fingers, “Fuck, Bet you imagined it was me huh?”

“Mhm,” You moaned around his fingers, letting out small yelps every time his hand connected with your asscheeks. He took his fingers out of your mouth to prop your hands on the railing, parting your legs a decent distance, he dropped his pants to free his eager member.

“You think you can stay like this for Daddy?” he asked you, grabbing your hips to perk your butt in the air. He squatted down to take one long look at your pussy, glistening with your essence in the sunset light.

He gave your pussy a couple of licks and kisses before raising up, looking at you, hanging your head low, in desperate need to feel him, to fill you up, to paint a pretty picture inside you. He lined himself up against your wet entrance, preparing his canvas with his precum.

You moaned softly at him slowly filling you up as your eyes fluttered shut, throwing one hand behind you to push him back only resulting in your arm getting pinned behind your back. “You can take me, baby, Just let me take care of you,”

“Nooo,” You protested but it was no good. He was always big, always girthy, and always ready to give it all to you. You’d always fight with him about how much you couldn’t take him, but he’d fucked the worry right out of you.

You felt his free hand wrap around your throat, pushing more into you, finally settling all of his inches in, you clutched around him, snickering at the little moans that escaped his mouth. He planted his feet on the ground and started to fuck you relentlessly, starting at your ass as he watched his lower half collide with your ass, watching it ripple repeatedly was the most satisfying sight he could’ve ever laid eyes on.

You moaned silently to be mindful of the other residents of this hotel but he wasn’t having none of that,

“Nuh-uh,” He moaned in a low tone, propping his leg on the chair, rocking his hips into you slowly to make you talk. “Lemme hear you, let the world know good I’m making my bitch feel.” you granted his wish, letting all of the moans you suppressed leave your mouth.

He paused his motion, slowly sliding out of you and back in. He releases his grip from your throat and you drop your head, flipping your hair back to get the few strands stuck on your face by the sweat off.

You hear him walking away from you, watering your curiosity about what he was going to do. You look back at him to see him remove his pants and take off his shirt. Adjusting his chain he walked back out to the balcony.

“C’mere,” He commanded, squatting down on one of the chairs that was set out on the balcony, stroking himself while looking directly into your eyes.

You smile as you drop to your knees not breaking eye contact, he smacks his thick dick on your lips, the corners of his mouth raising more by the minute.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, giving him sultry looks before you took him in your mouth, moaning around him savoring the taste of both of your juices combined.

He let out a deep rugged groan at the feeling of your mouth, moving your hair out of your face, he looked at you with hunger in his eyes.

You wrapped your hands around his dick, jerking him and sucking him at a medium pace. “Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised you in a low growl making you leak onto your thighs. Grabbing your head, he began to thrust himself into your mouth, making you take him deeper and deeper into your throat, making gag noises as he stroked languidly.

You feel him twitch in your throat, signaling that he was close. You put your hands behind your back and looked up at a cheesing Marshawn. “You look so fuckin’ pretty taking me mamas.” He moaned before throwing his head back in pleasure. He only had a few strokes left before he came in your throat, letting out those soft masculine moans that you love so fucking much.

He let out a few more before bobbing your head up and down on him, fuckin his cum further down your throat.

You slowly take him out as you swallow whatever was left, giving him innocent smiles and gave his dick a few kisses. “Damn baby,” he panted, lowering his head to give you quick pecks on the lips, leading down to your collarbone as he reached around to grab a handful of your ass.

You got off your knees and hooked your leg on the chair's railings, aligning him with your entrance, you hooked your other leg as you slid down on him slowly. “Shitttttt,” he curses under his breath at the feeling of you, the two of you moaning as your hunger has been restored.

You braced yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck, bouncing in his lap at a quick pace. He moaned directly into your ear to fuel you more and it did, you loved it when he moaned, every time he moaned anything or sound made you get more riled up, it was your dick and you could do whatever you wanted to it, and you proudly did your shit.

“Fuck, this pussy so good. taking all of daddy’s dick,” he said, snaking his arm up to grip your throat, making you hold eye contact while you continue to ride him. The air felt more humid, the sun still peeking through as a ray of sunshine displayed his chocolate skin glistening with sweat, brightening up his dark brown eyes to a beautiful bright brown.

You felt his twitch inside you and his body tense up, “You better not nut baby, not till I get mines.” You commanded and he obliged, rolling his eyes at your dirty words. “God why you fuckin me like this?” he threw the question in the air making you slow down, gyrating your hips as you slowly bounced up and down, giggling at his face and whimpering that left his plumped lips.

“Aw come on baby,” you cooed at his whimpers, “Can’t take it?”

“I’ll show you who can’t take it,” he said, hooking his arms around your legs and picking you up and flipping you two around so now that you were on the bottom, dangling his chain in your face, he started to fuck you with content in his eyes.

Your eyes rolled back to the back of your skull as you felt him hitting your spot over and over again. “Oh fuck!” you cursed into the air resulting in a smile from Marshawn. “Aw Come on baby, What’s wrong? Can’t take all of me?” he growled, making the pit in your stomach grow wilder.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! I’m finna cum!” you chanted over and over again.

“Hold it- J-just a little bit l-longer.” he threw his head back pleading, matching his strokes with your whimpers.

You hated when he didn’t let you cum, even when you wanted to soooo bad you knew you couldn’t disobey him, the punishment would’ve been something to tell the captain.

He dropped his head to see you cry tears of pleasure, in love with the beautiful sight of you taking him and all of him, he could look at this all day long. “Cum.” was all that was needed as you both had your climax together, the sounds leaving his mouth sounded like heaven to your ears and harmonized with yours as he painted your walls with his cum.

He softly collapsed on top of you still inside you, holding you close as he rocked his hips into you. “Oh my god,”

“Oh my god indeed.” He laughed, giggling at you whimpering as he slowly pulled out, his nut oozing out of your pussy.

He left the balcony for a few minutes and returned with a warm towel to wipe you clean, planting kisses on your forehead as he sat beside you on the other chair, grabbing the blunt from earlier that was resting in the ashtray.

You flipped over to your side and stared at him, admiring what kind of man you scored, you felt like the most luckiest girl in the world to have him, to be cared about, to feel loved, to be adored by someone who didn’t care how big you were, you were his, wasn’t nothing changing that.

You two started at the sunset with each other taking turns to hit the blunt, it wasn't a damn thing that could dim your happiness, not even a negative Nancy that was yelling at you two from below, you both snickering before running back inside the room, shutting the door and jumping into bed.

fin♥️

[littlxpxtal]

A World Alone

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 1.4K

All the double-edged people into schemes

They make a mess, then go home and get clean

You're my best friend, and we're dancing in a world alone

World alone, we're all alone

I know we're not everlasting

We're a train wreck waiting to happen

One day the blood won't flow so gladly

One day we'll all get still

December Continued

The aroma of the house smells like a warm cookie. Mom had put out the desserts and I was finally able to excuse myself form the dinner table, down to my room to experience the first moment of silence since 8am this morning. After lighting a candle and changing into my pajamas, I settled into bed, turning on the TV and continuing the episode of The Vampire Diaries I had fallen asleep to last night.

A few moments later my phone started buzzing.

Income FaceTime Call: Rafe Cameron

“Hello?” I ask in a hushed voice as if anyone would know I just answered a phone call from Rafe.

“Alright what the fuck” he starts, his face contorted with anger, a hoodie pulled over his head, airpods in.

“Excuse me?” I ask, sitting up in my bed.

“Just watched the second to last episode of this first fucking season and ‘m pissed.”

I think back to what happens in season 1 in Game of Thrones and begin to laugh.

“Oh yea I should’ve warned you. The ninth episode of every season is like known for being chaotic.” I respond, trying to hold in my giggles at the thought of Rafe being frustrated over the loss of an extremely prevalent character for his first and not last heartbreak of this show.

“Yea a warning would’ve been nice I dont even wanna finish this shit now.” he huffs into the phone.

“What time is it there?” I ask, trying to change the subject and cheer him up.

“It’s like 3:30. What about you?”

“9:30. Im practically ready for bed.” I say with a yawn, laying back down and propping my phone up on my pillow. “How’s your Holiday been?”

“It’s fine. We did the whole forced family bonding earlier. We were out all morning so I’ve just been laying around until it’s time to get ready for dinner.”

“That sounds like fun.” I say, my droopy eyelids fluttered closed for a second.

“What about you sleepy?” he asks. I pop my eyes back open.

“Opened presents bright and early, had breakfast brunch with everyone. We played board games and prepped dinner, had dinner and then sat around and talked.” I went on, recounting my day as Rafe stared at me intently through the phone.

“That actually sounds nice. If it was with people I could stand to be around.” I laugh and rub my eyes.

“Yea, they’re fine. It’s always nice to see them but sometimes I wish I could just go far away.” I murmur.

“Like Bora Bora far?” Rafe says with a grin.

“Yes, Bora Bora far.”

“You should’ve came with us.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes at him.

“‘M serious. You used to come on trips with us all the time.”

I recount the trips I used to take with the Cameron’s when we were kids. For a while there I was practically their fourth kid. We visited Florida numerous times, went up the coast to New York, Boston and Maine. One year we had even convinced our parents to send us all to the same surf camp in California. Lucy and Wheezie were too young to go, but they packed me, Kinsey, Sarah and Rafe on a plane for two weeks.

“You thinking about that one surf camp?” Rafe asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yea how’d you know?”

“Cus that was all you and Sarah could talk about for months, how could I forget.” he says with a smile.

“I had my first kiss on the trip.” I gleam into the camera with a full smile.

“Yeah and you wouldn’t shut up about it.” Rafe chuckles.

“Who’re you talking to?” Sarah’s voice comes through the phone, slightly muffled, but it’s so recognizable I wouldn’t miss it.

“Y/N” Rafe says, turning the phone to face Sarah and she leans down and smiles, waving at me.

“Girl why the fuck are you on FaceTime with Rafe.”

“He called me to bitch about Game of Thrones.”

“Oh my god you got him into that shit too?” she asks with a smirk, looking at Rafe and then back at me through the phone screen. “You two are something else.” she says walking away.

“Alright ‘m gonna let you go.” Rafe says, fumbling with something on the couch, probably looking for the remote to watch the season finale.

“Okay, bye Rafe.”

“Bye Y/N Sweet dreams.” he says with a wink. The call ends, and almost immediately my phone starts ringing again.

Incoming FaceTime call: Sarah Cameron

I hesitate for a second, but accept the call. Shes now in a bathroom, away from Rafe.

“So what’s going on between you two.” I’m thrown off by her bluntness as she combs her hair, the phone propped up on the bathroom counter.

“What do you mean?” I ask, unsure of how this conversation was going to go. She starts to part her hair and smiles into the camera.

“You know exactly what I mean.” she was right. I did. I didn’t want to have this conversation over the phone, while she was miles away. I was hoping to have it when they got back form their trip. I sigh and turn over in my bed.

“There’s not much going on. We’ve just been seeing each other a lot more recently.” I say nonchalantly. Not completely lying, but keeping the whole truth in.

“You guys totally fucked.” she says, laughing into the camera, working her hands to complete a dutch braid on the left part of her hair. I gulp and shake my head.

“What?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“You and Rafe were bound to happen.” she says smugly. I furrow my eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?”

“He’s always had a thing for you. It didn’t ever seem like you reciprocated but he’s been after you since I can remember.”

“Sarah what are you talking about?” I ask again, feeling a weird knot in my stomach. Rafe and I’s relationship was purely sexual at this point. We weren’t “together”. What does she mean hes been after me?

“Remember when we used to go to Carowinds, and Rafe always sat by you on the rides, while me and Wheezie sat together?” She says, finishing up the braid and starting up on the other half of her hair.

“I thought that was because Wheezie wanted to sit by you on the big rides.”

“No it’s because Rafe would force us to let him sit with you.” I think back to all the rides we rode the last few times we would take trips to Charlotte and visit the amusement park. Now that the memory resurfaces, I recount all the times Rafe has made his way to the seat right next to me. Every. Single. Time.

“Its not like that.” I finally say.

“I’m sure its not, Rafe’s not one for commitment. But I knew something was up when I saw your name popping up on his phone more than mine.” she says with a straight face.

“Sarah I’m sorry. I really didn’t know how to tell you. I wasn’t even really sure what was happening myself. He’s kind of confusing and I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know what I want. We’re just messing around.” I mumble the last part, embarrassed to see her reaction. She finishes up her last braid and picks the phone up.

“I’m not mad.” she says. “I just want you to be careful. Rafe can do whatever he wants but when it comes to you, “ she pauses for a second. I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue.

“Look you’ve got a lot of people on your side. A lot of people that don’t want to see you get hurt. Just remember that.” I know she’s referencing JJ, John B, Pope and Kiara. I smile faintly at the screen at the thought of my friends having my back, even when I feel like I can no longer return the favor.

“I love you Sarah.” I respond. She smiles sweetly into the phone.

“I love you too. Now help me pick out my dress for dinner.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[97keanu]

john wick and reader’s first christmas together 🤩

*˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ I just love this idea! Thank you so much for sending it in ❄️.*ㅤ

Premise: John wants to give his wife the best Christmas he can. He decides to surprise you by taking you to a remote cabin he owns(typically used as a safehouse from his work if need be). Features John who tries to finally let his guard down and relax, hot cocoa kisses, and sexy times by the roaring fire ♡.゜

Tags/CW: FLUFFY, domestic bliss!John, loving husband!John, some much needed down time for the Wicks, blizzards, cabin in the woods, eventual smut, soft but still dominant!John, pretty tame but sensual smut, you learn things about your husband that you never knew, you see a side of john you never thought you would, daddy kink, spanking, commanding John, p in v, doggy, edging.

The roads twisted between thick fur and pine trees of the deepest and most vibrant hues of green your eyes have ever seen. You're used to your concrete jungle, the city life of New York being all you've ever really known. You had never taken a camping trip before John, let alone a getaway in some private cabin up in the mountains. You didn't know there were even mountains near where you two usually lived, but with the secret blindfolded plane ride, you're not sure you're even in the same state anymore.

John's large hand rests on your thigh, giving little squeezes every so often and warming the skin there. His other hand keeps a hold of the wheel, driving the slick black-as-night car. He had trade in for the SUV styled vehicle instead his usual Mustang so that you two could make it through the snowy terrain. The visibility is getting less and less as the darkness of night begins to settle in and the snowflakes blasting against the cars windshield get bigger and thicker by the minute. You're grateful for how warm the heaters are keeping you, your short skirt and leg warmers no match for this weather, but you had wanted to wear something cute for your getaway trip and John had only said it was a "little chilly". You curl up in the giant black leather seats of the car, sleep wanting to take you after so much traveling. You spy John peeking over at you, and hear him speak for the first time in a few miles.

"It won't be long now," He let's your thigh have another reassuring squeeze. "We'll be away and in the warmth of the cabin soon. I had it prepped for our arrival, so it should be nice and toasty when we get there."

You hum a small response, eyes wanting to shut so badly. Your head leans against the seatbelt, letting the thick strap cradle it.

The trees grow thicker and seem to be devouring the car as the road turns into a tiny trail. You wonder for a moment how or who John would send to keep the cabin prepped. You notice how the trail has been plowed already, and slowly but surely a warmth of yellow glows as John turns the last corner towards the cabin. You see the large structure, it's windows vibrantly orange against the cold whites and blues of the winter forest around it. The chimney already billows with smoke, lazily getting pulled away by the wind. It looks expensive and inviting.

John gets out of the car first, the wind blowing in flakes of snow already, melting on the warm leather seats almost immediately. John spies the chill that shakes through you from the sudden cold, and takes off his warm winter jacket. He walks over to your side of the car, opening it, that burst of frost blasting you once more. He helps you out, wrapping you tightly in his jacket, his warmth radiating into you through it.

John carefully takes you inside, careful of any ice that may be lingering. He opens the wooden door of the cabin, and you can already feel the warmth on your cheeks once more as you step inside.

"Not so bad, huh?" John says with a small smile, rubbing up and down your arms to try to keep you warm.

"Yeah, but I would have dressed warmer if I'd know there was a blizzard waiting for us!" You say with false concern, not really that upset when you're in such a luxury cabin as this, and all the thought that John put into it apparent to you.

"The storm wasn't supposed to set in so quickly, that was my mistake of underestimating it..." His voice remains brighter, but you can tell he wishes he had calculated it better. That sort of thing means a lot to him.

You pull your loving husband in, taking his bearded face in your hands and planting a long, soft kiss on his lips. You pull back and look into those deep brown eyes of his. For the first time in a long time, he looks content, excited, happy. There's a significant lack of the usual worry there, but even so, his dark brows always show a hint of it.

"Listen, why don't you take a moment to warm up by the fire in the livingroom, and I'll start getting our things inside..." He is obviously up to something else, you can always tell, but you have an idea of it either way.

You shrug off the jacket he gave you, his masculine scent of pine and mint cologne going with it, and give him a kiss on the cheek as you do.

"Keep warm out there..." You whisper to him, a hand pushing one side of his long dark hair back behind his ear.

"Always..." He returns the kiss and slips out the door, snow billowing in onto the hard wood as he does, and the wind being extinguished as he closes the door once more.

For a moment, you glance out the window, fogged up by the heat of the inside fighting the cold of the wilderness. You check the car, where your husband should be, and see nothing, thinking he's disappeared into that dark winter night. Then, you catch a glimpse of him moving past a different window, farther from the car than he should be if he were to be unpacking.

Checking the perimeter. You've known him to do this when you two travel. No other man you've dated has done such a thing, but no other man was John Wick. You still were unsure about his work since he kept you at such a distance, but you could take a few guesses at this point. You don't like him being out in the cold like this, but if it makes him feel better, maybe takes his mind off everything so that you two may enjoy your Christmas vacation together, then you'll let him do so without bringing it up.

That was your duty as a loving wife. A loving wife who didn't ask questions. Who knew but said nothing of it. Who doted without wanting to know more. And for now? That was enough for you.

You know it will be a second before he gets back, so you decide to take in the cabin while he's away. You look at the grand living room area you're standing in, two massive staircases encircling the largest Christmas tree you've ever seen, twinkling with a million tiny lights. The dark wood of the enterior is rich and inviting. To your right, a fireplace, couches and seating around it, the mantel hung with green garland and deep red bows. In front of the fire rests a white bear hide, you wonder if it's real or not, but you don't think you've ever seen John hunting. Animals, that is.

Beside that are the largest windows you've ever seen, over looking the forest and you think a lake if you can spy that correctly out in the mess of the blizzard. It makes your heart tense to think of John out there in that, but he's a grown man, he can make his own decisions, you tell yourself, as the good, loving wife you are.

You walk there, looking out, seeing all the freezing cold that you're happy to be away from dancing out there beyond the thick trees. You turn towards the fire, walking over, letting the bare of your legs and arms get warm. Your thin little scarf did just about as much as you tiny skirt and white fluffy leg warmers did to warm you, but a lively fire should do the trick. You close your eyes, hands out and feeling the warm down to your bones, listening to the wood crackling and dying inside the flame.

After a while, you end up curling yourself the coziest and plushest couch you've ever been in. It's deep brown in color, and has the feeling of soft leather, the kind that still has a bit of fur on it. The crocheted cream blanket hung over it quickly becomes yours, and you watch the fire as your eyes slowly drift closed, and the flames twirl behind your eyelids.

❄️.*ㅤ

You're not sure when you fell asleep, or for how long, but when you feel cold lips kiss upon your cheek, your eyes flutter open to meet John's. The fire behind him has significantly died down.

"Sorry to wake you sweetheart," his voice is hushed and soft. "I finished unpacking for us. I started our late dinner as well, so that will be done soon if you're hungry."

You hadn't really thought about it, but as John mentions it, and you smell that delicious scent of a home cooked meal, your stomach growls despite yourself. John smiles at the response and stands up, holding a hand out to you. You take it, enjoying the feel of his rough hands engulfing your tiny soft ones for a moment.

The two of you go towards the left of the cabin, through two double doors grand with subtle embellishments, and the wonderful smell of the kitchen grows larger as you walk through. You see the brightly lit kitchen before you, the appliances a mix of modern and old styled, the color of them all deep greens and brandished golds. A small, simple chandelier hangs down over the middle of a black marble island in the center of the room. There are nice, large, comfy stools made of wood and black leather waiting for you there, the high backs of the stools perfectly curved to lean against. You take seat, and John opens the oven to check what's cooking in there.

"I always forget how good of a cook you are." You say with a soft smile.

"I don't do it often, but I hope you enjoy it when I do." He responds with a small chuckle, pulling a chefs apron in black off a golden hook on the wall, and wrapping it around himself so he may continue cooking.

He gets out a medium golden saucepan, opening the old styled fridge and getting out cream and milk, mixing them into the pot. You watch with fascinated eyes as he does so, then spotting him open the pantry door and seeing it fully stocked with snacks and goodies.

"You really had this place set up, huh?" You comment as he takes out a hefty bar of high quality dark chocolate from the pantry.

"Only the best for my wonderful wife..." He says with that small smile of his, walking over near you and setting up a cutting board.

"Do you wanna learn how to make homemade hot chocolate?" He continues, bringing a sharp chefs knife with him.

You're actually really interested, you've never had John 'teach' you anything so far, so you wonder what kind of mentor he would be.

"Yes, I'd like that."

John nods, and begins to show you and tell you what he's doing. First, he takes the chocolate bar, then sets it on the cutting board. He then explains how sharp these types of knives are and how you have to be careful, showing you how to cut with your knuckles out instead of your fingers.

"Always cut away from yourself..." He explains as he does so himself, chopping the chocolate into finely shredded pieces. "It's kind of hard because you don't want the chocolate to melt too much from your hands, so you have to work fast."

You watch a few more times, a question or two being answered with patience and honestly, and finally you feel your ready. John comes behind you, his hands guiding yours to the right places, then traveling up to your shoulders. You shiver from his touch.

He watches carefully as you cut, making sure to tell you if you're getting too close to your knuckles. You work slower than he does, the chocolate beginning to melt and stick to your fingers, but he doesn't stop you. He wants you to be able to make mistakes and figure it out on your own.

He pulls his hands down to yours a few times when you ask for help, his hands helping yours to get the motion. You feel a blush settling in your cheeks as you think about how close he is, his scent easily inhaled from this distance. You know you're already married to the man, but you can't help but retain that crush you've had on him since the very beginning. He had such a way with being suavely romantic like that, as if he wasn't even trying to do so.

Finally, all the chocolate is cut, your chunks not nearly as fine as John's, but he reassures you it will all melt the same in the end. You both move to the pot of milk that's on the stove, John igniting the gas and the blue flame rising to meet the bottom of the pot. John let's you carefully brush the chocolate off the cutting board into the pot.

He then opens a nearby cupboard, bringing out spices and such.

"I like to put vanilla, cinnamon, and a bit more sugar into mine..." He admits almost sheepishly.

You have to agree, it's interesting to see John, his buff arms on display from his dark undershirt, scars here and there, in a chefs apron talking about his favorite way to prepare hot cocoa. It's not that he can't do such a thing, John could do anything, you know that. It's that he's usually never allowed to be so tender, to have such opinions, to show off this side of himself, even to you, his wife. You're already starting to cherish these moments of bliss with him.

He let's you add the other ingredients yourself with the help of his verbal instructions, and you're happy he does so. You may be his wife, but he knew when he married you that you didn't sign up to be the cook in the family. And you're glad that he never pushed that, but right now, you're enjoying creating something with him, even if it is a recipe.

"So, where up here for 5 whole nights, what do you have planned for me, John?" You say over your shoulder as you stir the heating liquid on the stove.

John is taking what's in the oven out as he responds, the delicious smell of roasted chicken and vegetables filling your nose.

"Oh, a little of this, a bit of that," he plays coy then continues. "Would you prefer if I don't keep it a surprise?"

You think about his question, asked in ernest, and consider it.

"No, but, I guess I'm just excited since what you've already given me has been so wonderful..." You smile and glance at him, watching as he prepares two plates for the evening.

Even this, he does with precision.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a real chef." You comment on his culinary skills.

"Ah," he says with a sigh as he wipes clean a spot of loose sauce on the sparkling white plate. "Perhaps, in another life..."

You know John doesn't speak of his work often, but every so often you get a glimpse into his true thoughts and feelings about it. You go back to finishing the hot chocolate without a word.

❄️.*ㅤ

Soon, the two of you have dined and enjoyed your delicious meal, lazing on the livingroom couch together with a mug half filled with cocoa each, the whipped cream all gone.

You lean into John's form, enjoying the feeling of his body against yours, the way the curves fit just perfectly. You listen to Christmas vinyl, all instrumental pieces, softly playing on a record player in the room. You watch outside as the snow piles up and drifts against the room filling windows, letting it block the two of you in here alone with ease.

"Aren't you worried we'll get snowed in?" You whisper to your husband, voice languid and relaxed.

"Not one bit," John chuckles softly in your ear, playing with a strand of your hair between your fingers. "We have more than enough food and resources to last well over a month. Besides, I'm used to the cold."

He kisses your cheek with the last word, and you can't help but smile back.

You bite your lip, thinking about what you want to say back, what you dream of asking, but you know you're not supposed to ask questions into his past. That's not what you're meant to do as his loving wife.

A few moments pass, and you just can't help yourself.

"Where did you grow up, John?" The words fall from your mouth, and you feel the muscles in John's chest tighten, almost reflexively.

He doesn't say anything for a long time, then a breath he seems to have been holding slips out low and slow.

"I grew up as an orphan." He says it slowly, and your eyes widen when you hear, you're grateful your back is against John so he can't see your surprise.

You say nothing, digesting the words, having learned so much from so little. You can imagine that it wasn't at all easy growing up as an orphan, but a part of you wonders, no hopes, that the story has a better end.

"I was born in Belarus," he continues. "And stayed there until I eventually made my way to New York."

Shadows, once again, from your husband. There is so much he's omitting, you know that, and there's so much you wish to ask him for details. You swallow those questions hard, instead remaining silent, in case he wishes to tell more, but not pressing anything.

"The winter's there were pretty harsh, so I find it somewhat comforting to be back in it." he finally says after a long pause. "Reminds me of how far I've come from that."

You feel John's hands move for the first time since this conversation, suddenly no longer frozen against you. It's as if the warmth has begun to flood his body against, forgetting that freezing past of his. He pulls you in tighter, wrapping his arms around you and feeling you there with him. You hear his sigh, and you know that's all he will say about it tonight. He buries his face in your hair, ready to forget for now. You let him.

❄️.*ㅤ

The days at the cabin pass like the last of the snow fall on the peaks of the trees, quiet, hushed, a whisper to a lover with lustful intent. You spend time with John that feels like a century, and as the night of Christmas Eve arrives, you find yourself feeling closer and closer to him without having to say much.

With his away at work all the time, you're cherishing these moments as they come, happy to stay inside with him and the cozy warmth of the fire that John keeps from going hungry. Tonight, you lead him into the living room, where the fire crackles and welcomes you once more. He let's you dance as you do so, helping twirl you as the jazzy songs of the records he puts on dazzle in response.

You pull him to the couch, letting him take a seat before you decide his lap is yours, straddling him. He looks wonderful tonight, his beard trimmed clean and his suit retired for a relaxed fit of a black v-neck that shows off his muscular form wonderfully. You're surprised to see he can even wear jeans, so used to his formal attire he usually comes home from work in. There's no blood splatters or blood holes to be found either. Nothing for you to repair, patch up without a word, the dutiful wife who knows her place in this gone for these moments.

You feel like when you just met, and John was just a charming, handsome man who woo'ed you into his life. No secrets were insight, not quite yet, back then. Just typically lack of knowledge of one another. More equal than ever in those moments.

You kiss him, the fire silhouetting the two of you. Your kiss is passionate and deep, your lips finding his and crushing against them with want and warmth from so deep inside you, you wonder if a flame hasn't ignited there as well. You feel your stomach flutter as you kiss, his hands starting at your back, holding you there as you grind into his lap slowly, as if you're trying not to let him know you're doing it at all. He smiles into the kiss, his hips returning the sensation, obviously knowing what you want.

When the kiss finally breaks, your breathless and looking into those dark eyes, the fire dancing twinkling yellow light on them so you can see the amber inside. You watch him for a moment, watch your handsome husband who breathes heavy beneath you, eyes full of want that he is barely holding back. You know he could take you whenever he wishes, flip you like you weighed that of a feather and fuck your brains out just as easily. But he wants to let you play with him, let you enjoy this and watch you as you do.

"Show me how badly you want it," he says, and you already know what he means.

You lift your skirt, your lacy, delicate panties revealing for just a moment as you straddle one of his thighs. You get in position, slowly taking your top, fluffy sweater off, your bralette matching your panties beneath. He watches with curiosity, a lone hand gently, as light as a moth's wing, gliding against your curves, taking them in.

You shudder as if a chill has found you, but all you have inside is that fiery passion that John flames within. You kiss him again, moving down his neck, pulling down to his chest and trying to get as much surface area as you can from his v-neck. Your hips begin to gently grind against his thigh, the feeling of being able to control your pleasure there wonderful. John chuckles while he watches you struggle to kiss deeper, and you think for a moment he may take his shirt off as well.

"Rip it off," he says with a laugh, and you pull back to look at him.

"I don't think I'm strong enough..." You admit with a smile, waiting for him to tease you.

"I want to see you try." He isn't teasing per se, but he is curious to see the strength you wield.

You laugh for a moment, then see how serious his eyes are about it, and bite your lip. You know he wouldn't make fun of you for not being able to do such a thing, you're no trained fighter the way he is, after all. But you do want to impress him.

You grip that V of his shirt a little harder, and clench your fists tight around it, giving it a testing tug. Nothing happens, and you glance to John, who's bemused by the sight.

"You'll have to try harder than that, love." He whispers, still encouraging you with his tone.

You pull harder this time, using all the muscles in your arms as you can. Still, not much, but you think you hear a few seams tear. You try one more time and finally, a decent part of the V rips open, exposing more of his deliciously defined chest.

"That's a good girl, I knew you could do it." He reassures, cupping your face and letting his thumb rub against your lower lip.

You open wide, letting his thumb enter there, playing with your tongue for a moment, before settling in your mouth. You suck joyfully on it, letting him praise you for being so good, rubbing your wetting cunt on his thigh more. He watches you with a pleased grin, his free hand on your hip, guiding you into his thigh. You let your hands explore his chest as much as you want, enjoying the feel of hard muscle against soft skin there.

"Are you going to be a good girl for Daddy and show him how badly you need his cock?" He says with his head tilted in curiosity, watching your reaction.

You moan and nod, still enjoying letting your mind slowly fade away, turning into the dumb little whore you love to be for him. You keep your body rocking against his and he takes his thumb from your mouth, reaching up to your designer skirt, and ripping through it much faster and easier than you did his shirt. He does away with the rest of that as well, and hears your pouting about the ripped skirt.

"Don't worry, I'll buy you another one." he smirks. "I like it better when I can see all of you."

And with that he unzips your bralette from the front, letting your breasts, heavy with want, fall into his large hands. He takes both of them, rubbing them perfectly in unison, enjoying the feeling there. He likes how soft you are, how all your edges are smooth without sharpness. He enjoys how plump and soft your skin is, telling you such things in a whisper, making the heat of a blush rise to your cheeks and chest. You reach back and center your hands on his legs, giving him a better view of what he desires, and note leverage to grind deeper into his thigh. You needy whines begin to echo in the cabin.

"Oh, is that all, darling?" he says. "I think you can show me how much you want it more than that."

You breathe out, your chest heaving, letting your breasts entice him with each lung full of air.

"I need you so bad..." You whisper, your pussy soaking through your panties.

"Oh really? Should Daddy check?" He says, letting one of his hands move to your awaiting cunt, and testing out how wet you are over your panties.

He rubs there, and you lose it, your eyes rolling back and closing with pleasure that runs through you as he plays with your clit. You grind into his hands, so big and waiting for your pretty little cunt to do such a thing. He stops moving, making you whine more from lack of stimulation, but you know he wants to watch you rub yourself against him first.

"I'm not convinced yet." John raises a skeptical eyebrow and you pretend hate how much work he's making you do.

You touch your own breasts, grinding harder and whining louder, calling his name.

"Tell me what you want, baby girl. Tell me how you want me to fuck you."

"I-I..." You try to get that lustfully full and dumb head of yours to bring coherent words from your moans. "I want you to fuck me in front of the fire. On the floor, from behind, and hold me down like the naughty girl I am..."

You feel a shiver run right down to your cunt from how John smirks at you, happy with your response.

He says nothing, and for a moment you're not sure if you've begged enough yet. But then, without warning, he grabs you, flipping you into his arms, and rising from the couch. He pulls you to him, the heat of his skin against yours giving you tingles. Soon, you're on all fours, the pelt of that bear rug thick and soft between your fingers. You look back, and John's hands are already at your panties, and with a gasp from you, he's ripped those off as well and discarded them.

He in zips his jeans, his cock flopping out, girthy and ready for you.

"Put yourself on Daddy's cock, show me that you want it." He breathes with his own lust only barely concealed.

You back up on your knees, feeling his cock flop against your ass, the size of it so intimidating already. You can already feel your cunt clenching from how badly you want it. Your hand reaches back and moves it so his cock is between your legs underneath you, and you slowly stroke it, enjoying the soft breaths John let's out from the pleasure.

You start by letting it slide between your wet folds, letting it rub it's tip against your clit, enjoying the friction there. Then, finally, as John commanded, you line his cock up with your needy entrance, and slowly let the head breach your folds there, popping inside of you as you moan out.

"That's it. Ease yourself onto me."

You do so, slowly letting your ass back up into him, his cock getting deeper and deeper as you do, stretching you out slowly. He may be your husband, but with a cock like that, you've always had to take your time to accomadate him if you didn't want it to be painful. Other times, the slam of his cock so suddenly inside you was desired, but tonight, you two are taking it slow.

You gasp as you feel his full length slowly fill you, so tight and deep inside of you. John's hands play with gripping your ass, before letting a light, but loud slap go on them. 

“Fuck, your tight little cunt feels so good, baby…” He sighs out as he carefully pulls his hips back, starting to pump inside you after. 

You moan, loving the way he praises you like that, loving being a good girl for him who takes all of his girthy cock whenever he wants. You hate to admit how mindless you go when he fucks you like this. You feel like every worry and thought is fucked right out of your pretty little head. 

John's cock begins to pick up speed, and with your sudden gasps and moans from the faster stimulation he asks if you're taking it alright. 

You give a confirming noise and nod, but you can barely speak from how good you're feeling right now. 

“That’s a good girl,” John says, his voice tight and husky from how much he's enjoying fucking you. “I want you to touch yourself for me, baby. I wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

You feel tingles run across your back as his hands station there, plunging his cock deeper as he does. At this rate, you feel like you might even just cum from what he's doing right now. Yet, your clit aches from the lack of attention, so you shift your weight and body so your hand can reach beneath yourself to get to that tender spot. 

“Yes, baby…Show me how much you love me fucking you.” John’s voice hushes to you, soft, but commanding. 

You do just that, feeling yourself in just the right way, you pleasure doubling as he continues to fill you up with his cock over and over again. You find your cheek against the fur rug, the heat from the fire prickling your skin, at this point making you almost start to sweat. You close your eyes, mouth open and moans uncontrollable. 

“Look at me.” John commands, and your eyes flutter open, your head turned to look back at him. 

John is just so gorgeous. His ripped, lean body, the glisten of sweat gleaming and twinkling in the fire light. But what really turns you on is his eye contact. Those wolf-like eyes, so deep and dark, looking at you. You can't help but feel like prey to him when he's like this, the way he looks at you like a predator who's just about to earn his hunt. You feel your cunt tightening as you do what he says, your own eyes look at him with scared little doe eyes, afraid to disobey, to not please. 

You watch as your husband continues to pound your cunt into oblivion, taking more and more, picking up speed despite how brutal it's already starting to feel. You love the feeling, the feeling of allowing your husband so much power over you, of letting him take your body however he wants. You feel your eyes flutter closed from how close you are, cunt tightening to try to get closer, breath held. 

You also hear a deep, animalistic growl from John, and you know you're breaking the rules. He commanded you to look at him, and now you're losing yourself in your pleasure without doing so. Even after you correct yourself, eyes meeting his, you know you've earned a punishment. 

He wrenches your hips back into his cock, keeping you there with one hand in a steel grip, the other lifting off and pulling back to slap your ass. You cry out at the first hit, feeling a sting reverberate there. The worst part was how much wetter it made you, how closer you were from every spank he laid upon you ass. He continues, a small smirk on his lips, he knows what he's doing to you. 

“Tell me how much you like. Tell me how you deserve to be fucked like this.” John's voice wavers and you know he needs to hear it just as much as you do.

“I…” You try to make your brain work, another gasp and another slap, your ass now red with his hand print. “I need you to punish me for being a bad girl, and not following your rules.”

Your hand is viciously rubbing your swollen and wet cunt, being pushed to its edge by how deep and hard John thrusts into you. 

“And?” John urges you on, his cock feeling harder and harder, swollen and ready to fill you as soon as he lets himself do so. 

“And I want you to spank me until I'm left with a mark to remember to be a good girl next time…!” You cry out, so close, wanting to close your eyes and focus on your pleasure, but forcing yourself to keep that eye contact with him. 

You hear John growl once more, this time from how much he's holding back right now. You know he wants to cum, but he's waiting on you. Your legs begin to shake as you continue to hastily play with your clit. John seems as if he can't take it anymore, and he grabs your hips, pulling them up, his hand snaking under you and pushing yours aside. 

“Let Daddy do it for you.” He says as if he's frustrated beyond your comprehension, but you love the way he touches you, so you allow it. 

His large hands take up so much more space, engulfing your clit, milking it in the perfect way that makes your breath leave your body and your muscles clench with shivers. You take all he is giving you, watching him as he begins to lose himself in you. You tighten around his cock to a point you don't think you can do more, and begin to feel yourself come over the edge, cunt fluttering and spasming around him.

“That’s my girl…” He sighs out, obviously there is relief in the fact that he can do this for you. 

You try your hardest to keep eye contact, but in the end, you close them, finding yourself lost in your own competition. You relish in the feeling of his hand taking your pleasure from you, slowing down and making it last. You feel as he reaches his own point, and finally with a groan, John spills inside of you as you're on the tail end of your finishing. His cum feels hot, almost tingly inside of you, making your head fall against the rug as you take his rutting against you, digging his cum in as deep as he can into your tight little cunt. 

When he's done, he slowly pulls out, his hand swiping any stray cum and slipping it back inside you with ease. You feel completely exhausted, and he can tell. John takes you into his arms, pulling you onto his chest as he lays next to the fire with you. You feel yourself softly drift off to sleep as John pets your hair, whispering sweet praises in your ear. 

“I love you…” He ends on after complimenting your body and everything else he adores about you. 

You softly mumble a return, and with that sleep has taken you. 

❄️.*ㅤ

John surprises you for the rest of the trip. Ice skating down at the lake, amazing dinners, long baths together with glasses of bubbly champagne just to name a few. 

When it comes to the day of Christmas Eve, he's somehow managed to make some of your favorite family dishes. You look over the feast, and feel at home here with him. You never want to leave this cabin, but you know in the coming days you will have to. You love how close you and John have gotten here. 

“How did you know?” You say after he reveals tonight's dinner, John’s arms wrapped around you while he snuggles into the crook of your neck. 

“I have my ways…” He says mysteriously, and you know he will just leave it at that. 

You two dine, laughing and carefree, something you didn't think you would see from John this often. 

When you're done, you curl up on a couch near the tree, and John begins to pull out a few presents. 

“Don’t you want to wait until tomorrow?” You ask him.

“I know your family always celebrates on Christmas Eve instead of day…” And for a moment you try to remember if you've told your husband that, or if this is another one of his mysterious ways. 

You decide it doesn't matter, because you're just happy he cares and is thoughtful enough for any of this. 

He hands you a small silver wrapped box first. He watches as you accept it and begins to open it with a smile twinkling in his dark eyes. You can tell he enjoys this. 

You open the present, and are met with the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen. It's perfectly your taste, and when John goes to put it on you, it hangs beautifully on your neckline. You feel him kiss up your neck as you thank him for something so gorgeous. 

“You don't need to thank me,” he whispers in your ear. “Someone as beautiful as you deserves beautiful gifts.” 

You can't help the smile creeping on your lips from that line, and you turn so your lips can crush against his with a grin. He turns the kiss, his soft, plump lips enjoying yours. 

Then, it's your turn. You hand him a gift from you, and you feel a little nervous in comparison to what he's just given you. You know yours is less expensive, and you wonder if you should have gone for something so handmade. 

John slowly and carefully tears off the red and green wrapping, and when he's done he's met with a small leather-bound book. He glances up at you with curiosity, then opens it. 

What he finds is a photo album filled with photos of you two over the time you've been together. There's pictures of you on some of your first dates with him, pictures of your honeymoon, vacations you've had together. There's even some of you two around the apartment being silly together. John says nothing, but slowly turns each page, looking over each photo with care. 

You fiddle with the edge of your sleeve, wondering if he likes it or not. 

Finally, he gets to the end where you've left a heartfelt message to him about how you feel. He reads it, then to your relief, a smile slowly finds itself on his lips. 

“This is���” He starts, then loses the words. “I can't describe to you how perfect this is.” 

You feel the breath you were holding leave your lungs, and you lean into him next to you on the couch. He wraps an arm around you and brings you closer, kissing the top of your head as he does. 

“I…will cherish this, thank you, my love…” He whispers into your ear, and you feel your heart swell. 

You two continue exchanging smaller gifts, John somehow getting everything on your list, and you outfitting him with things he likes. You know the first gift was his favorite from how he keeps looking through it. You two end the night with rum and eggnogs while watching your favorite Christmas show, happy to be with each other. You couldn't ask for a better Christmas. 

[privateanxieties]

for all you give (give it back to you)

Summary: The story of how you worm your way into Frank's heart and mind, making him believe he might be worth a second chance.

Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader (she/her, no y/n)

Words: 3,300 (hurt/comfort, fluff, some canon-typical descriptions of violence, allusions to sexual intimacy, romance, trauma healing)

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

It starts slowly, which Frank can attest is uncharacteristic of all events unfolding in his life. Even more puzzling, there's no grand design — it's soft and simple, the way she carves out a spot inside his heart. He runs into her every day on his evening run, and every day he gets more unsettled by the thought of danger lurking in the shadows of alleys and bridges, just waiting to swallow her up. It's not because of any budding affection that he feels, at least not at this point. He doesn't even know her name. What he knows is how he was raised, and if anyone condemns him for being old-fashioned in his views, then so be it. He can't bear knowing she's out there past ten at night, wandering the streets of a shitty New York neighborhood in the name of cardio.

It's a progression of these thoughts that leads him to do the unthinkable and introduce himself one day, and the way he goes about it would make for good nightmare fuel, were he not already stocked up on that.

He pretends to trip and falls on his face. He's tried a version of this before with Sarah Lieberman, and back then just as well as now, he knew there was no other way. You don't just approach a woman who's outside at this time of night, especially if she wants to triple the danger for herself and wear those stupid noise-cancelling headphones. He'd expect someone his own age to have more sense than that, and sometimes he wonders if she's not just looking for trouble on purpose.

His assumption is rather quickly disproven, because nobody who speaks in the manner she does could ever be brazen enough to start a fight. No — she's all softness and kind eyes, and the gravel in his palms stops stinging the moment she pins him down with a concerned look and a soft hand around his wrist. It's a minute or two before she's got him following her to her private practice just a block away, because apparently he's a little too good at faking accidents. The nasty cut she stitches up for him with quiet precision and a rambling mouth doesn't even hurt, not when he's so focused on whatever's in her voice that he finds so familiar. She speaks in a way he can't seem to shake, like there's something there that his own mind knows intimately yet remains secretive about.

He should've said no to grabbing coffee the next day. He really should've refused, because now that he knows what her laugh sounds like, he's in real trouble. And he fights it, at first. He gives it his goddamn best. But a man like him knows when he's done for, despite all the bravado and all the willpower. He knew it the moment she looked away from him and stared into her black coffee, quietly telling him she was glad he let her help him, that he was going to say yes to the next coffee they'd grab together. And the next. And the next.

And eventually, his own rambling mouth — a novelty exclusive to her presence — reveals things it really shouldn't, like a first and last name he's supposed to have buried and forgotten, along with an identity he's sure will ruin dinner. The information falls on deaf ears. Not because she isn't paying attention; she seems to look at and see only him as he moves between the stove and the counter inside her kitchen, prepping his mother's old pasta recipe. No, Frank has a feeling she isn't just listening. Her gaze is as soft as always, yet this time there's a spark that finds him trapped, frozen in place in the middle of the kitchen while she raises one delicate eyebrow and says two baffling words: I know. Then, even more perplexing: I was waiting for you to be comfortable.

Comfortable. What does it mean for him to be comfortable? Is that what he was when he opened his mouth and revealed the truth? Or was he just compelled by attentive eyes and an openness that hurt to be in the presence of while he was still hiding his true self? He doesn't deserve her acceptance. He's not even sure he wants it. He's been past wanting things for years, just waiting for life to happen as he crawls along, fragments of what could've been fighting to quell his breath on each new day bestowed upon him. He's got nothing to want. Nothing to hope for.

So why doesn't he move when she approaches him, slowly, fearlessly, in the way one might a startled creature? Why does his chest tighten and expand all at once when she greets him tenderly, a whisper of his real name falling from her lips? Most importantly of all, why does she keep worming her way further inside his gut, and why doesn't it burn like he knows it should?

Maybe it's because she does it at a glacial pace, which a famously impatient man can't help but respect her for, at the same time that he fears the place from which that tenacity springs forth. A restoration project of his magnitude isn't just daunting — it's straight up dreadful, rotten floorboards and black mold eating away at every inch of a once proudly robust construction. It's not smooth sailing as the months dissolve away, but she perseveres. He has bad days and worse nights, and every time they bid each other farewell once the clock strikes eleven and their run ends, Frank's mind is left to stew in words and gestures that make no goddamn sense — his and hers both.

For one, he's smiling what feels like all the fucking time. What he's so happy about when his life is what it is, only God may know. What he knows is that there's no possible way to keep his lips flat and his chest empty when she tells him stories of long nights in the emergency room spent removing dubious objects from places they really shouldn't be. One too many phallic contraptions was what it took for her to finally quit hospital work and open a private practice. Frank tries and fails to keep a straight face while asking her to describe the experience. She, on the other hand, meets his challenge head-on, attempting to draw a diagram of the witty invention on the napkin resting by her coffee — thus, a weird game of pictionary unfolds between them, and they have to stuff their pockets with no less than eight scandalous napkins each before leaving a generous tip for giggling like lunatics the entire time.

Next, and maybe this one's all in his head, but she's on a frequency his stubbornness can't find fault with. She gives him space when he needs it. Sometimes they don't see each other for days, despite living less than five blocks apart, and never does she push for contact. She doesn't ask him what he does during that time away, maybe because she knows or maybe for the same reason she didn't tell him she knew who he was. Maybe she's waiting for him to confess how he still spends a good deal of his nights, despite not needing the confirmation. She lets him come to her and he does it without fail each time, though his little I'm sorry for my radio silence apology tokens don't hold a lot of variety. She likes flowers, coffee and whatever baked goods he can get his hands on, so now Frank is a regular at the neighborhood florist and a fancy bakery on 51st knows his order.

Most of all, he's baffled by how little needs to be said between them for a world of knowledge to be exchanged. She gently coaxes one or two sentences from him that leave a lot to be desired in the way of details, but then she meets his eyes as they sit next to each other on her couch. And finally, he tells her — not with words, but with his own eyes, blinking rapidly or not at all, dry as the desert one moment and the next suddenly flooding. He tells her about a little girl he had, one whose body would have only been identified by prints or dentals. He weeps over his baby boy without so much as a cry, because he too left the world a worse place for his departure. And where he used to mutter it to himself repeatedly, Frank says his wife's name only once— he says it with the same reverence as always, and he hopes she won't begrudge him the comfort he receives from another woman.

He knows Maria wouldn't blame him, but he's not so sure he isn't blaming himself. Whatever he's doing here, it needs to stop. Whatever he tells himself her soft touches mean, or those looks, or that smile — he can't be right. This isn't meant for him. He shouldn't have this. There should be no one he looks forward to seeing, no one he thinks about before the thundering fall of hammer on concrete and after the laying of his body down to rest. There shouldn't be anyone to stay his hand and extinguish his anger. Only rage should exist, because rage is the only thing he really has. He doesn't know what he is if not this, and he makes the mistake of telling her as much while she stitches up the first real wound he's gotten in a long time. Neither of them pretends not to know what the result of a knife fight looks like, and he doesn't tell her how it went down because she doesn't ask. It's a good thing, because every time he closes his eyes and sees that woman's face as she was held at knifepoint, his mind superimposes different features onto it and his blood boils over. All he saw in that moment was her. All the cops are going to see at the scene will be scattered fingers and a leaking skull.

Frank himself doesn't feel very put together as he fights sleep under her caress, a hug he didn't ask for suddenly enveloping him whole and quieting the one-track mind winding him up repeatedly. He was late for their run tonight. That could've been her. His fault, his fault, his fault. The words disappear when she finds the nape of his neck with a gentle touch, drawing him into her chest and resting her cheek atop his head when he finally relaxes. His own hands grasp at the plush edges of her exam table, mimicking her gestures almost subconsciously but not daring to reciprocate on actual flesh. Seconds pass, and then minutes.

My sister died because of me.

The words startle him like a shot went off right by his ear, when in fact they were barely whispered. Frank, however, doesn't move when frightened. He's learned this about himself: he can never twitch a muscle in any of his nightmares, can never stop what he knows is coming. He can't stall the tragedy any more than he can avoid feeling its effects.

I used to run with her. That was our thing. I got mad about something… something petty, I'm sure. And I didn't go one night. Just one time. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was dangerous. Should've told her not to go, but I didn't. Cops were at my door the next morning. She was stabbed four times. The thing is, she would've survived, if she'd had someone to help her. Someone who knows their way around first aid.

He can feel her shaking from their closeness, can infer what she's thinking by the slight change in her voice. She's all blame, that's what it is. That's what it was when she first spoke to him all those months ago, and he latched onto it without even knowing, pulled in by soft eyes that glimmered in understanding. He thought it was unending kindness that he glimpsed in there, and in part, that was still true. But there was something else that lingered, something that seemed to inform her approach with him over the better part of a year. That frequency he stupidly thought she was on didn't happen by magic, or by fate. They didn't click because of some grand plan. It was simply life in all of its unfairness, dealing out blows to whoever it found with their guard down, deserving or not.

She doesn't deserve this. Frank knows it, and his chest puffs up in defiance of the pain in her voice as she tells him about the night they met from her perspective. It was a few short weeks after her sister's death. That evening run had become a ritual of a different nature, and he realizes with some horror what it was she'd been trying to do. The headphones made sense now, not as a tool of the careless, but of a person who cared too much. Cared enough to try to invite danger inside, scope it out and lure it back from the shadows in the hopes that she might look upon it herself. Confront it herself.

She confirms as much when she tells him they still haven't found the killer.

She made herself an easy target so she could look a murderer in the eye, and with that thought, he does finally recoil. He wants to argue. Wants to refute the notion. He can't. He can't, because to take that truth away from her would be to take it away from himself. She did what she thought she had to do. The difference is, she still has all her humanity left, yet the blame can't seem to leave. It eats away at the light inside her eyes, and despite that she's not bitter. She doesn't recoil from company or people in general, and she doesn't abandon everything she knows in favor of oblivion and a corner to waste away in. It's unfair. It's not right to live with it and still have to function. It's not right to have to get up and be a good person in a world of shit. It's not right… and she does it anyway. For a man who sees only one kind of injustice, the realization is almost enough to demolish him. That's life — you can be riddled with guilt and still unflinchingly gracious.

It's just never that simple, Frank muses quietly, until it is. It's never this quiet in his mind, unless she's somewhere near.

For the first time ever, he wishes she wouldn't wait for him to move or speak. He can see it in her face, what she needs, but much like him, she won't ask for it. He wishes she knew that there's nothing she can't ask of him, but since she doesn't, he's gonna have to make that clear. And if he has to move at a glacial pace too, then so be it. He'll worm his way in just like she did, and he hopes she won't begrudge him the same tenacity she showed. By the way she leans her cheek into his palm, he doesn't think she will.

It's a little easier after that, as more months melt away, to stop questioning everything they do together and its meaning. When they laugh together, it doesn't feel foreign or undeserved. When he has bad days, he doesn't hide any place beyond her apartment, doesn't stray much farther than her sheets and doesn't utter many words besides praise for how she moves and feels around him. When she has bad days, which he's come to learn the look of, he unearths the meaning of devotion to something other than rage. He's not known desperation like this for longer than he can remember, because it takes a while to figure out what she needs and how to help. He thought he could see it clearly, but all he'd really been looking at was another one of those injustices. Frank turned his grief into anger. She's unfairly burying hers inside and watching it lay waste with a careful eye, never cowardly enough to admit to what she really wants. She's so brave, this woman. His.

He almost can't believe he's thinking it. Frank's role as protector ended with the last breath his family took. He didn't think it could ever be born again, but with the first tears to fall from her eyes, a brief moment sees him meeting a different type of rage. It scalds, but doesn't leave him empty. That's how it used to feel when he was all consumed with it just a few years ago. Instead, it's just a means to an end now. So he starts going out again, looking for the shadows that haunt her, because the only thing that will help her is the thing only he can provide. Kisses help. Hushed promises soothe. True healing, and he knows this in his bones, can only come after an end, and that's what she never got. She graciously gifted him a fledgling second life, but he won't start living it until she meets him halfway.

You did it for me. Let me do it for you.

He doesn't try to lie to her — it doesn't even occur to him. He tells her the truth and his plan in full as she sits on the couch and he paces her living room restlessly, now and then chancing a look at her. At first, there's silence. It stretches unbearably, and when she speaks, the tide breaks.

I don't know what hurts more. The fact that she's gone, or that it's my fault.

Hey—

No matter what, that won't change. I've thought about it. Killing the man who did it won't make it any less my fault or her any less dead. Frank, I—

Sweetheart—

It's you. You're… the only part of this equation I didn't see coming. You're the only thing that makes a difference. When I have bad days, I don't think about the man I want to see dead. I think about the one that makes me feel alive.

She says things like this sometimes — things that yank his heart straight from his chest and stomp on it until it comes apart at the seams. He's practically vibrating with it, this need to say something in return, but nothing rises to the magnitude of her confession. At least, nothing that he thinks he's earned the right to say to another person again. But his girl… She knows. He can see it in her eyes that she knows, because he's on her knees in front of her, holding her face in both his hands. Frank has done so much with them throughout his life. He's taken more than he's given. He's hurt more than he's comforted, ripped apart more than he's put together. What he now uses them for is as sacred as a thing can be, because if he won't speak it with his lips, he'll press it into her skin with his fingers. If the words won't form in his mouth, he'll use it to adorn her body with the reverence of a man who has found and lost and found again.

In the end, as his hands rewire themselves for holding and forget all else, he stops questioning it entirely. Whether by accident or by design, what's been given to them both is not something to make sense of. It's something to cherish, a devotion to each other that consumes not, but instead nurtures. He knows now the answer to that most important question: if she wormed his way inside his heart and the path she trailed doesn't burn, it's because she belonged there all along.

.

.

.

-fin-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this piece as much as I fell in love with it in just one afternoon. Please let me know what you thought of it, and if you liked it, kindly allow others to reach it through a reblog or comment. Thank you for reading.

[pleaseeeimjustagirl]

♡Weekly Chronicles♡

Hey babes! I've missed you guysss I am so happy I had an amazing trip it was so nice. I went to a convention in Maryland for 5 days it was so nice. I definitely left with a lot of knowledge so many amazing people spoke at the lectures<3 and I'm sorry I missed the weekly affirmations for this week.

♡Education♡

I applied for all my classes for next semester before my trip. I’m low-key excited about the classes I have coming up. Lot of different courses since I'm almost done with my major required classes now I need to fill the rest of my credits with electives. I have an art class next semester just for fun. I can't wait to meet the people in my classes. I have to take this math class I am not excited for at all I hate math lol so every time I update you girliesss on this class I'll probably be complaining lol.

♡Mental♡

Interacting with different people this past week has been very good for me mentally. It brought me back to pre-quarantine Khadija who was such a big extrovert. After covid, I started to have mild social anxiety so this was needed. I dealt with a little insecurities while on my trip interacting with so many beautiful women I started to doubt my looks comparison is the thief of joy, I practiced a lot of the methods my therapist recommended like canceling one negative thought with two positive thoughts. I realized I was all in my head for no reason. I love watching Leo Skepi when I am feeling this way he always gets me together. I highly recommend him if you are dealing with a lack of discipline, self-confidence, or just need someone to get you together with tough love he is that guyyy. Side noteee I missed my antidepressant dose twice in a row because of traveling back to New York and it low-key made me hazy like it was super weird but I took it today. 

♡Physical♡

While I was away I ate super bad! The event was an African-focused event so the food there wasn’t healthy at all. I was going to stick to my diet while on my trip but I decided I'm on a trip let me relax and I don't regret it at all. But I am seeing the consequences of my food choices now I am soooo bloated lol. So I am starting a cleanse tomorrow for the next 14 days I already prepped my ginger shot for the morning I want to flush my system out completely going into the new year. I don't recommend cleanses especially to my babes that have dealt with ED’s always consult your doctors before starting anything. I just do what works for me. 

♡Hobbies♡

Now that I am back I can get back to being consistent with my Italian, pilates, and weight lifting. I was so sad I could not lift I feel like I'm low-key obsessed with lifting lol it feels so good and I've been seeing results, especially in my lower body. While I was gone I didn't have any time to do my hobbies they had us in lectures and events constantly. I practiced my Italian once which I'm happy about. I plan on starting jewelry making next week I'm super excited it was one of my favorite hobbies when I was in middle school. I used to make earrings and bracelets. 

♡Plans For The Weekend♡

My birthday is Sunday, December 31st! I am turning 21 yay! I am super excited I don't have anything planned for my birthday. I am going to have a mini celebration with my family and watch the ball drop my siblings bought me presents so I'm excited to open everything. I'm starting my cleanse so I'll be working out and taking good care of my body internally and externally so I'll be off social media this weekend and focused on my mental and physical health. I plan on creating my vision board and listing my goals this year. My dad is ordering my camera I used to have a YouTube channel but I took a break to work on my self-improvement journey I do plan on getting back on my YouTube grind soon lol so look out for that coming out in 2024! 

This week's little journal entrieee a lot happened this week and I'm excited to see what this new year brings babesss. Comment your plans this weekend and how did your week go?

[fromasgardandback]

Harrington Beach House Road Trip

•

not proofread, sorry

masterlist | stranger things summer

Steve’s parents told him he could take some trusted friends to the beach house in the Hamptons as a graduation gift, but he had yet to cash that in until the summer of 1986. It had been a hell of a year and his friends could use the time away. Steve told Nancy, Robin, Eddie, and Y/N to pack up because they were all headed to Hamptons, New York. It would be a thirteen-hour drive that doesn’t include stopping for food and bathroom breaks. Steve suggested leaving the night before and taking turns driving so they could enjoy their time there instead of driving. And because Eddie didn’t have as much money saved for this trip, he offered his van for the trip. It was the best option since it would fit everyone and their luggage. Although they were in his van Robin made sure to bring “good” music as she calls it. That didn’t stop Y/N from playing their special mixtape on the way. She took the opportunity to play it while the others were asleep as well. Along the way, the gang needed to stop for gas three times and for bathroom breaks an additional two times. Their first stop was getting gas out of town. The girls took the time to take aesthetic midnight photos. They were also on snack duty running inside to get a few of everyone’s comfort foods for the long trip ride. It was their third stop overall when Robin can be seen running into a nearby bathroom.

“Who keeps giving Robin drinks? The more she inhales the more we stop and we’re already getting there at sunset.” Eddie groaned leaning against the hood, smoking a cigarette. They had already stopped in Ohio and now in Pennsylvania. 

Steve was next up to drive, five hours had gone by, and the beautiful 8 AM sun shined over the beautiful reservoir next to the rest stop. Nancy suggested getting lunch once they reached the Pennsylvania-New Jersey border to which it was grateful for everyone needing to stretch. After lunch, there were two and a half hours left. Thank God because all of them were getting angsty.  Somewhere around 5 PM, they arrived at the house making good timing, especially with New York City traffic. The Washington Bridge was the worst of it, but at least they got to see the city a little while driving through. The salty beach air filled their nostrils driving down Route 27. Eddie parked the van in the driveway of a typical Hamptons home. It was beautiful wood with white trimming. The flowers that were laid out along the front of the house were so pretty. There was a small deck in the backyard leading to the beach. It was a nice little home. It definitely had that Hamptons Nautical feel to it. There was a sunroom in the back that faced the ocean. Across from it was Mr. Harrington’s library slash office. There were three bedrooms and five of them. Steve told Eddie and Y/N to take his parent’s bedroom since it makes him hurl knowing what they have done in there. Eddie certainly did not complain. He dragged his luggage in there along with Y/N and closed the door which Robin dramatically threw herself over the railing fake retching. Robin got a room to herself since as much as Nancy loved Robin, she was a loud snorer. Steve and Nancy looked at each other blushing lightly as they agreed to sleep in the same room, but with a divider in the middle. Eddie, Y/N, and Robin teased the hell out of them for it. Steve ran down the street to pick up some pizzas for the rest of them to have a calm night stretching out and watching a random sitcom. 

They spent their first day leisurely relaxing and trying to catch up on sleep and meal-prepping for their time there. Cooking for the week was left up to the girls. Not that they wanted this responsibility because they are women, but because they didn’t trust Steve and Eddie not to burn the house down. Lunches were easy grab-and-go sandwiches they put together in one meal prep. The same went for breakfast unless they went to a coffee shop, bagel spot, or brunch. Dinner was a little more intense than just a few items here and there. There was more prep into it. Two nights during their stay they went out to dinner, but other than that they stayed in and cooked like a family. Robin, Nancy, and Y/N got along perfectly. They acted like sisters in the kitchen and each of them had specific roles. Whenever Steve would try to come in for another beer Robin would hiss at gim, She did the same to Eddie when he tried to sample from one of their stations. 

Having spent their first day resting and exploring what was around town, they headed to the beach early the next morning to enjoy the day. They stopped into the grocery store and local markets getting a few things they would need for the week.

“I am tanning, getting some swimming in, and sleeping. I need this.” Robin stated laying out all her stuff and slipping a baseball hat on. She turned to let Nancy apply sunscreen. Y/N followed Nancy’s actions and applied sunscreen on Eddie. He wiggled like a baby not wanting to be touched but she refused to take care of a sunburnt Eddie. Y/N had to last summer and it was hell. There was a cooler filled with sandwiches, drinks, and snacks. Sand got everywhere but no one minded. It was better than Indiana mud. The gang swam for a while keeping an eye on their stuff, but Steve got a little worried and went back to sit for a while. Nancy and Robin fell asleep for about an hour under the umbrella shade while Eddie and Y/N walked along the beach finding seashells.

“This trip has made me realize something,” Eddie said picking up yet another seashell to add to his girlfriend's collection.

“What’s that, my love?” She smiled up at him.

“That this is reality and that I am going to marry you someday. So…” Eddie trailed off bending down on one knee and holding up the perfect baby seashell. “With this token is a promise that one day I will make you an honest woman and ask for your hand in marriage. That I will never leave your side and to love you with every fiber in me.” He looked up at her squinting from the sun. Y/N stood there shocked, but tackled him in kissing repeating “I love you” and “yes, yes, yes”. They walked back to their set up hand in hand not mentioning a word to anyone.

Some teenagers from a few houses down set up a beach volleyball net. They saw the gang playing in the water and asked them to join. Mainly because they wanted Nancy on their team. Steve wasn’t all too happy but that gave him motivation to win against the other team. They played for a while before the girls got tired and the boys got too intense. Y/N had to reapply another layer of sunscreen to Eddie before he continued. They started taking monetary bets on who would win. Eddie not being athletic showed them up. There was money at stake, of course, he was going to give it his all. They ended up taking that won money and paid for a nice meal with it for dinner. The next night word got around about some campfire happening. Steve told the group that every once in a while the neighborhood older kids get together and have a bonfire on the beach. 

Some beaches allow bonfires and others don’t, but this specific one did. He knew of a couple because of their parents but it was not like they would turn people down.

“So basically it’s a beach bonfire block party?” Nancy said grabbing a few blankets. Steve nodded and closed the cooler placing it in the car. Eddie brought a small bag of weed thinking that it would give him some sales and Steve wouldn’t notice. Y/N hated the thought that he still had to sell to make enough money, but he has been cutting back which put her at somewhat an ease. They walked down to the beach from the house and spotted the fire easily. In true Steve fashion, he was flirting with every girl there while Nancy sat a little sad.

“You know he’s doing that to get a reaction out of you. You two still harbor feelings, just go for it. And if it doesn’t work, then at least you’ll never keep wondering.” Y/N sat next to Nancy handing her a drink while they watched Steve from across the fire. They were interrupted by a drunk Robin running and yelling happily bare nude into the ocean with a couple of other people. They laughed hard grabbing a towel and wrapping her securely around it making sure no one saw more than they should. Robin would be mortified in the morning, but that was tomorrow’s problem. 

Shinnecock Bay was one of the largest bays in the Hampton’s. It is located in the Hampton Bays which isn’t too far from the house. The group decided to go here for a picnic relax kind of day. Beach days were reserved for fun and soaking up the sun. Lake days were strictly for boating and relaxation.

“There are quite a bit of picnic tables. Let’s pack a lunch and snacks. We could catch a boat ride around the lake as well. I’ll charm my way to get us on one.” Steve said grabbing things we would need.

“What? What charm do you have? How many girls have you been on a date with and are still single?” Robin laughed putting on her sunglasses and slightly shoving his shoulder playfully as she ran down the stairs outside. The lake glistened with the sun shining bright on it. Trees littered the park beautifully which gave enough shade. They brought books and read to themselves, played in the water, and the guys did some light fishing while the girls somehow got their way onto a boat. It saddened them that this was their second to last day here in the Hamptons. This week had been needed for them all, but it was a different lifestyle that everyone except Steve was not used to. Nancy joked about marrying rich to live this type of life and have the rest of them stay over. Before they left, they went tubing and relaxed in their inflatable tubes soaking in the last bit of the day’s sun. The drive back home saddened them. They watched the beautiful water crashing against the sandy beaches one last time heading for boring Hawkins, Indiana. A town where no one wanted to be. The sun was coming up as they were leaving. No one wanted to leave in the middle of the night. They didn’t care if they got home really late. The post-vacation blues were definitely setting in. Robin even teared up a little. 

“Even though we’re all sad, I’m glad we did this trip together,” Steve said looking at all of them. They all agreed happily. Y/N turned the music up higher as they belted songs the rest of the way home.

[helpinghanikan]

Domestic December: COD

Day 16: Ghost, Camping

DD Masterlist

There’s zero chance of having a basic romantic get away with Ghost. He doesn’t find places with a lot of foot traffic all that relaxing. So, forget Paris or Hawaii. Maybe he’ll agree to New York for a show but not if you’re spending more than a night.

It’s the more out of the way places that he prefers. This is specifically referring to camping, but not just any camping. The real kind of camping where you carry in your own stuff and won’t have service for the whole weekend.

Whether it’s your dream or nightmare, Ghost loves it.

Maybe a mile or two into the woods he’ll lose his face covering. He’ll do it Audrey while a few steps ahead of you. As if his mask wasn’t nearly as important as you both knew it was.

That’s when your trip can really start.

Every now and then you take a glance at his face. Looking away just as quickly, as if he might disappear under the mask again. Like respectful strangers you set up camp in silence. The drive in was long, and the hike was longer. By the time you got the tent up, and Ghost had the fire going, the stars were starting to peek out.

“It’s meal prep tonight, tomorrow I’ll get us something real.” He explains while cooking over your fire.

Whatever the food was you were undoubtably going to drown it in butter and pepper. Ghost wasn’t cruel enough to make you eat military rations, but he was mean enough to have it ready just in case.

As with most things you let him come to you. Handing over a plate and taking a seat right next to you. The night was cold, but the fire and your man’s body heat kept the chill away.

“I’ll be gone before you wake up. Be back a little after sunrise but I’m not going far.” He explains as if his hunting wasn’t a tradition on these trips.

Supposedly Ghost used to hunt big game like wolves and bears. Considering his career it wasn’t a stretch but hunting animals that were close to being endangered seemed almost stupid. Especially if it were just to come off as sounding tough.

That being said he did come back every morning with rabbits or some kind of fowl. He’d probably bring in a deer if you let him.

“When you get back we should go to the lake. I brought my swimsuit, and yours.” You add, leaning into his warmth. Plate forgotten and wanting something more than just a basic meal. “As if we need them?” He says, arm around your shoulders and squeezing you tight.

[quietlyimplode]

The language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: day 4 - shock

Warnings: action based blood/explosion

Word Count: 1.7k (gif not mine)

Summary: Clint and Natasha’s first mission after the events of New York.

A/N: Sometimes things are exactly as they appear to be. (Also be kind to fic writers pls, know we read each and very comment on reblogs <3)

.

2012

NEW YORK

“He’s better,” Natasha defends, protectively.

“I’m just saying that hiding in vents to spy on your friends is not a good thing,” Bruce tells her.

“He’s not spying, this is a weird situation. We’re here because it’s mandated. We just didn’t know for how long.”

Natasha moves out of the kitchen, wanting to find Clint.

“Just think about it?” Bruce calls after her.

Six months they’ve been here and she knows they’re both stir crazy. Probably all of them are.

Bruce is preparing to go back to Calcutta, and who knows where Thor left to.

She knows Bruce just wants the best for Clint, and she does too; but weekly therapy is enough.

They don’t need more.

He’s no longer catatonic, he’s eating, joking and talking about his feelings.

Isn’t that all she can ask of him?

He’s never had to deal with mind control or someone being in his brain.

The tower is more empty now, though Tony maintains they’re welcome for as long as they want.

She wonders what Steve is going to do.

Her phone rings and she glances at the caller, seeing Maria, she picks it up.

“Yeah?”

Reprieve comes in the strangest of ways.

“We have a mission for you,” she opens.

“Australia.”

Natasha’s heart leaps a little and she smiles to herself.

“Send the packet,” she says, “we can leave whenever.”

Maria pauses.

“How’s he doing?”

Natasha finds her way into the elevator, choosing Clint’s floor as an email comes through.

“Got it,” she tells her, “he’s better, he’s ready for this I think.”

Maria is quiet.

“I’m glad; we’ve missed you both.”

Natasha nods.

“Nothing like a mission to Australia to recalibrate.”

“I’ll get Fury to spring for business class, the 18 hour trip is shit,” Maria laughs.

Natasha is thankful, she hates traveling economy class on long haul trips.

“Hey, maybe whilst you’re there you can do some wedding prep,” Maria goads.

Natasha laughs and hangs up on her friend.

It’s been a running joke since the mission in Kashmir, one that since the events in New York, she’d not heard.

Finding Clint reading, she throws her phone at him with the open packet showing.

“Australia?!”

His glee is contagious as she smiles.

Today is a good day.

Natasha feels a bit of lightness in her world, and it feels strange given the last six months.

She can’t remember the last day like it. Maybe before the aliens came.

“Business class?!”

He laughs again.

“What a lowball mission, they must be feeling sorry for us.”

She takes her phone back, and lays down next to him.

“Maria said we should do some wedding prep,” she laughs with him.

His face turns serious, and she wonders if she’s ruined the mood.

“What if we do?”

She breaks into a smile.

“Yeah okay.”

He nods, looks at the packet again.

“We’re going to Queensland anyway. Nothing happens there.”

Natasha nods, lays down next to him and closes her eyes.

“Bruce is leaving tomorrow too,” she murmurs.

“Tony is going to be lonely,” Clint considers.

“Yeah.”

She does feel sorry for the billionaire, who seems to have grown accustomed to having people in his world, to suddenly have none.

“Maybe we should get everyone together and eat tonight,” he proposes, “I think maybe after Australia we could go back to the apartment.”

It’s a big step, not being around people, not feeling the need to have safety measures in place. She doesn’t think she would have even considered it a month ago, but the more she thinks about it, the more it feels right.

“Yeah I think that sounds like a good idea.”

.

Tony spares no expense in providing for his friends.

It’s kind. Natasha isn’t used to the abundance, even after all this time.

“There’s no way we will eat all this,” she tells him, passing him the food.

Pepper, Steve and Bruce sit on one side and it’s the three of them on the other.

Sitting between Clint and Tony, it’s like sitting between her brother and her lover. Or what she imagines that might be like.

She’s going to have to ask Clint what it was like growing up with a brother. She imagines dangerous in a fun way.

Steve tells a story that makes her laugh; and she goads him with a fossil joke, Clint chimes in with another story and the night passes quickly.

Too quickly, it feels and she wants to stay in this happy moment, this good day.

It surely can’t last.

.

Australia is hot.

It’s a different heat to the United States, and she can almost feel the infrared heat engulf her as she steps off the plane.

“Shit,” Clint exclaims.

She stares at him and he shuts up.

He’s to play her bodyguard, and his outburst is out of character. It’s not like him.

It’s like he’s forgotten what he needs to do to be a spy.

She frowns, worried.

This is a low ball mission, but it doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t take it seriously.

Let your guard down and you become an easy target, even if the mission is just surveillance.

He takes her bags in apology and she fakes the persona she’s been given.

Rich people rarely give eye contact to anyone.

She leaves her glasses on and continues on her way through customs. It takes longer than she expects and she internally groans at the lines.

Externally, she complains out-loud. Everyone avoids eye contact.

Australians are a strange bunch, unlike Americans they seem to both simultaneously helpful and not, no one going out of their way to explain things or to point the clueless in the right direction.

The car that picks them up and drives them to the house is black and the driver nondescript.

It’s only when they’re alone in the two story house overlooking the beach that she breaks character and flops on the bed.

“I forget how well you do a rich bitch,” he says offensively.

She smiles.

“Get me a drink, won’t you?”

He laughs and busies himself with making a late lunch.

They have three hours before night, before they start the stakeout and all he’s eaten is plane food.

.

Two hours in the car and he’s so bored he starts throwing popcorn into his mouth.

Then.

The generator blows.

“Nat?”

“Yeah I saw it.”

They move out of the car, trying to get a better look.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence,” he mutters.

She rolls her eyes.

“I don’t think so.”

Natasha moves quickly, scouting the house to see what’s happening inside, their line of sight now gone in the darkness.

“Nat, wait,” he urges, “what if it’s a trap?”

The money launder is clearly on alert.

Two sets of armed guards leave the door and Natasha watches as they fan out. She sneaks past them and Clint swears as she looks back.

Natasha moves into the house.

Two shots ring out, and Clint ducks, swearing softly under his breath.

There’s someone else there and he can’t see them.

Scrambling up and onto the tall fence, he moves across the tallest tree and climbs up it.

There’s a team of two, dressed in black with large night vision goggles that make them look like frogs.

He taps on his ear piece.

“There’s two, on your left, try and take the mark alive if you can,” he orders.

“The two are coming through the kitchen, he’s moving out the up the stairs.”

Ideally alive, with his ties to hydra and the ten rings, he has valuable information they can use.

Natasha gives the signal she’s seen and chases him up the stairs.

Clint holds the two unknowns lined up in his sight.

He sees one set a charge and the other place two more.

“Fuck, Nat, they’re setting it to blow,” he growls, too far away, too high up to get to her before they detonate.

He drops down anyway, yelling.

“Nat, it’s a trap, they’re rigging it to blow, get out,” he says urgently.

He chases after the retreating spooks, and catches one, gun trained on them.

The frog like character shakes it’s head and holds up the detonator.

“No,” he exclaims, and holds his gun up.

They shake their head, and then press the button.

Hot flames engulf the building, throwing both of them back.

He tackles the body to the ground, ripping off the mask, and punching down hard.

Blonde hair and a frown greet him under the balaclava.

Wild eyes turn to him, “better go save Natasha,” a Russian accent growls.

Shock hits him.

How do they know Natasha?

Russian.

Black widow?

His heart sinks as the realization that Natasha is in a burning building.

“Just like Dreykov’s daughter,” she says scathingly, “left alone to die in a burning building with a bad man.”

Clint lets her go and runs.

She’s going to be okay, she has to be.

The explosion wasn’t big enough to total the building, parts still standing as he coughs in the heat, shielding his face.

He hears sirens wailing, and he knows he needs to find her.

“Natasha!” he calls, going in.

“Nat?!”

He calls her name over and over until he reaches the crumbling stairs. Covering his mouth, hoping that nothing else explodes, he climbs them.

Finding a bathroom, he opens the door only to find Natasha behind it.

“Bathtub,” she coughs.

“Stayed in.”

He hands her the cloth he was using to cover her mouth and helps her down the stairs.

“Mr. Nought?”

Natasha shakes her head.

“Couldn’t get to him. Dead, I think.”

They exit the house, Natasha limping and Clint guiding her out.

He wants to check her over, to see if she’s actually okay, but the sirens draw closer and they need to leave.

“I think the safe house is compromised,” he says driving away, heading straight for the airfield.

“We probably need to swap cars too.”

Natasha groans and holds her head, and Clint glances at her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just go, find a car,” she tells him.

There’s blood but he can’t tell in her black cat suit.

“Who was that?” she asks, looking back.

He doesn’t want to say the words but as he speaks them, the more he’s convinced he’s correct.

“Nat, I think it was Yelena.”

.

[olympeline]

FrUK FACE family Parent Trap AU, part 6! Part 1

Last time we watched Alfred go home with Francis and get his first taste of Matthew’s life in Quebec. Now it’s Mattie’s turn. Let’s see how it would go for him and Arthur in New York:

It’s a quick trip home on the subway, and then they’re in the Kirklands’ apartment. A middle sized place by NYC standards, in a big block, high up near the top. Everything is super concentrated and crammed together like the inner part of any big city. Space is at a premium, so the normal folk live like sardines. Matthew is used to his wide open suburbs, so it’s a bit of a shock. He likes Arthur and Alfred’s apartment, though. It’s cosy and very lived in. A colourful clash and blend of Alfred and Arthur’s strong personalities. Very little style compared to the Bonnefoys’ immaculately interior designed home, but charming nonetheless. Matthew is drinking all the new sights in, when Arthur goes through to the kitchen and says he’ll make them something to eat. He’s expecting “Alfred” to go jump into gaming or rush to see his friends that live in their block, so he’s surprised when Matthew hovers in the kitchen doorway instead. Arthur asks if he wants to help, Mattie says “Sure, dad!” (Dad. Dad! This is my other dad! - Matthew, dizzily to himself) and Arthur is again surprised, but also pleased. Seems his boy has matured during his last trip to camp. He does seem a little different.

So, they get to work and Matthew has a hard time keeping up his Alfred-sona because oh dear, oh dear. Alfred was not kidding when he said his their dad was super bad at cooking. Matthew feels his French reared soul dying a thousand deaths as he watches Arthur prep their dinner. He wants to help out and offer advice but it would be too suspicious. So he focuses on talking to Arthur instead. Arthur tuts and grumbles about various things (mostly work and people he knows), but also cracks funny jokes - often at his own expense - and makes Matthew laugh. He has a surprisingly wicked sense of humour under his stuffiness, it seems.

Then the food is done, they sit down to eat, and…

“How is it, Al?”

“………..Fine, dad. Good. Real good. (🥲🥲🥲🥲)”

“Really? That’s good. I think I’m getting better. What do you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah. For sure! (🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲)”

It’s the worst thing Matthew’s eaten in his entire life. But he chokes it down with a big, Alfred style smile. It’s worth it to see Mr. Kirkland Arthur his other dad smile back. It’s also worth choking down the “food” because Matthew can keep talking to Arthur while they eat. He has an easier time of it than Alfred did because Arthur expects “Alfred” to talk and talk like it’s going out of fashion. Mattie can be as enthusiastic as he likes, asking all about what happened in NYC while he was away. Arthur answers all his questions, asks some of his own about camp, then brings up Antonio. And Matthew’s stomach sinks. Arthur tells him Tony is away for work, but he’ll be back soon. Mattie tries to feel enthusiastic about meeting him, but he can’t quite manage it. Alfred says Uncle Tony is nice (even if he thinks Arthur doesn’t love him) but Mattie just doesn’t want him around. Who knows how long he’ll have with Arthur before they’re found out. He wants every minute with his long lost dad to himself. Then poor Matthew feels bad about thinking this way because he’s a sweetheart and doesn’t want to be selfish. Poor guy’s a sufferer of catholic guilt without the catholicism, I tell ya. It’s one of the things about Mattie that Francis worries about and has the most sleepless nights over.

After dinner, Arthur had planned on getting some work done while Alfred goofed off with his games and/or neighbor friends. But Mattie sticks with him to wash up, then hovers again. Arthur is starting to feel a little worried (maybe Alfred felt more homesick than usual this year?) so he says: hang the work, they should spend some time together instead. It’s too late to go out, so they flop in front of the TV for some good old fashioned binge watching. Mattie sits shyly by his dad, close as he dares, and joins in the distracted chatter as they flip between various shows until they end up on The Great British Bake Off. A favorite in the Kirkland household. Arthur likes it because it reminds him of home and gives him “inspiration” for his - ahem - culinary efforts. Alfred likes it because sometimes they drop things. Matthew has never seen it before but soon he’s hooked. He finds himself wondering what Francis would think of it.

Suddenly, a stab of homesickness. Matthew must have tensed up, because he feels Arthur put his hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. Mattie looks up at Arthur and the latter gives him a reassuring smile.

“Back home now, Al.”

Is all Arthur says, but it’s enough. Matthew feels a lump in his throat and, when Arthur looks away again, Mattie has to quickly blink back another attack of “hayfever.” He misses Francis, but now he has Arthur too. Suddenly he can hardly believe what’s happening. Where he is, who he’s talking to. It all feels like a dream. One he’s waited for his whole life without realising it.

How is this all going to play out? Matthew doesn’t know. But he does know one thing: he’s so glad he came.

(That’s it for now. Stay tuned for part 7! (´ε｀ )♡)

[wolfawaycamp]

Something with infected Kaitlyn maybe? <33 (best if she stays infected post-game and all counselors survive)

🐼 What if I told y'all this was based on a dream I had where this was more or less the intro to The Quarry 2? It's a sign, I tell ya!

Twelve-forty-two p.m. They were running late. Not good. Kaitlyn stared out at the water from the front steps of the lakehouse. They’d all agreed it was a worthwhile investment considering their…condition, but it was also quite isolated, which made for a long monthly road trip.

Sure, the sun wasn’t supposed to set for another four hours or so, but that didn’t stop Kaitlyn from running through every worst-case scenario in her head while she sat nervously awaiting the arrival of her fellow counselors.

Jacob strolled up and planted himself next to her. “Kait, I know that look. You’re getting antsy again.” She didn’t respond. “Hey, it’s probably just, I don’t know, typical New York traffic. People coming home for the holidays and all that.”

She looked over at her friend. “Yeah. Probably.” It could also be an accident, or maybe another attempted kidnapping, or god forbid one of the Hacketts found—

Thankfully, Kaitlyn didn’t need to finish that thought as she saw the familiar silhouette of Emma’s minivan pop up over the horizon.

“Party time!” Jacob grinned at Kaitlyn.

She rolled her eyes and strode toward the approaching vehicle. “You are probably the only person in the universe who gets consistently excited about exploding into a hairless mutt every month.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

She put one hand on her hip and glared at Jacob. “Uh, yeah. Because it’s fucking weird, dude.”

The van slowed to a stop a few feet away from the bickering duo, and it wasn’t long until seven familiar faces popped out, each carrying some sort of backpack or container in their arms.

“What took you so long?” Kaitlyn inquired, scanning the group. She knew her temper would be shorter than normal today, but she still felt she had the right to be a little upset.

While several of the counselors began transporting their luggage into the lakehouse, Abi rounded the van and plopped a large cardboard box down in front of Kaitlyn. “Hey, don’t be too mad at us. We brought some extras along. My idea.” She gestured toward the box.

Kaitlyn raised an eyebrow. “You went on a shopping spree?”

“Not exactly. I had these custom-made and today was the earliest we could pick them up. I’m really sorry it took so long.” Abi opened the box and revealed a brightly colored pile of woven fabric.

Kaitlyn grabbed the top item; it was dark green with a very loud yet charming pattern of fire-engine red bears prancing across it. She instantly recognized what these were supposed to be. “Ugly Christmas sweaters. Cute.”

“Aren’t they?” Emma hopped over. “That one’s Jacob’s. Mine’s the purple one with the stars on it, and yours—”

“Hey, hey, hey! Let’s save the gift-giving for when we’re all prepped for tonight,” Abi interrupted.

Ryan and Dylan had walked out of the house and approached the group, hands loosely linked together. Ryan spoke, looking slightly more on guard than normal, “She’s right. We’ve got an early moon tonight and I’m not sure I want to see what a ravenous Kaitlyn looks like.”

Now that he mentioned it, Kaitlyn’s stomach had been grumbling for the past few minutes. “Speaking of—” She spun around and entered the house, searching specifically for Jacob or Nick; they were tonight’s designated chefs. She found them unloading groceries in the kitchen. “How long’s that all gonna take to cook?”

Nick pressed a few buttons on the oven and turned to Kaitlyn. “It’s not too complicated; the sandwiches need to be assembled and then we’re just waiting on dessert. Hope you like sloppy joes and brownies!”

Kaitlyn tried not to get too excited thinking about it. “Sounds great! I’m gonna go over here now so you don’t have to see me drooling all over myself. Let me know when it’s done!” She wanted to do the rounds before getting too comfortable.

Making her way to the end of the hallway, Kaitlyn pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. She stood in front of the door at the end of the hall for a moment; this was going to be their home for tonight, and things needed to be double- and triple-checked before she and her fellow lycanthropes settled down.

“Everything good?” Dylan’s voice called out from behind her. She would have been annoyed if it was anyone else, but he somehow managed to stay in her good graces during full moons. They’d been in sync with each other, more or less, since that night at Hackett’s Quarry.

Kaitlyn nodded, unlocking the basement door. “Yep. Only need to do a quick basement check and we should be gucci.”

“But are you ready?” he asked.

She met his gaze; he looked anxious, rightfully so. They were about to jam a bunch of bloodthirsty animals into close quarters. Not exactly the holiday vacation they’d pictured. “As ready as I can be. Are you coming with, or…?” She nodded toward the staircase leading into darkness. He shrugged and wordlessly followed her downward.

After they’d confirmed that every inch of their enclosure was working as intended, the two joined the group for dinner, which was followed by a lazy hour of catching up and gossip.

Laura’s watch alarm went off. Four o’clock on the dot. Kaitlyn sat up straight, tensing up as if she was being sentenced for a crime.

“Alright. Time’s up, guys. Let’s get going,” Laura said calmly.

The infected individuals one-by-one filed into the underground cages. Once they were all locked in, they collectively relaxed into their quarters.

“Damn. We never got around to giving out the sweaters,” Emma lamented from the spot next to Kaitlyn.

Kaitlyn gave what was probably an unconvincing smile in response. “We’ll have plenty of time. After.”

Emma grinned back with a similar look of unease, but her words were sincere. “Deal. After.”

Kaitlyn supposed there were worse ways to spend her holiday vacation.

[alex-perry]

name: alexander “alex” perry (no relation to katy perry)

age: 32

birthday: january 22

zodiac: aqua sun, libra moon, virgo rising

place of birth: minneapolis, minnesota

occupation: architect 

neighborhood: asbury bay

mbti: infp

pinterest

this is alex and he is the most beige human you could ever imagine.

he is THAT guy who considers “meal prepping” an extreme sport.

bio:

he’s from minnesota, which is like just a giant icy wasteland filled with nice, boring people who think a wild night is a trip to ikea (maybe that's what shaped his taste in interior design but we will get into that soon). his father frank is a civil engineer. his mother susan is an english teacher. he has a younger sister named amelia, who recently graduated from college. his parents' whole philosophy is hard work and practicality, which is just code for “let’s suck all the fun out of life.”

alex's dad richard was raised uber christian in small-town in lexington nebraska, but everything changed when he went to college. cue the culture shock: he met new people, encountered different ideas, and quickly realized the world wasn’t quite like the way he was told in his little church. he met susan, a free-spirited liberal who basically turned his worldview upside down. when they decided to get married, as you can guess, richard's family did not take that well and all hell broke loose. his family basically went all 'THIS IS THE FUTURE THE LIBERALS WANT!!!' route ofc.

because of this divine union, his dad has been banished from the good ol' conservative family circle. they probably think he’s gone to the dark side. he only keeps in touch with one of his cousins. (the one happens to be the father of alex's quirky cousin andrew. and andrew is a chaotic entrepreneur, who lives in silicon valley).

he is also cousins with miss dakota @dakota-perry

so it's safe to say they don't spend much time with his father's siblings. the Perry fam only visits them during holidays.....

little alex was the type who actually did his homework on time and actually got excited about things like mowing the lawn. so it wasn't a surprise when he graduated top of his class and got a scholarship to mit. he studied architecture because.... well, bc he had no other hobbies. and i guess alex wanting to become an architect ever since he was a middle schooler played a role in that decision too.....

he aced his courses, probably wearing one of those dreadful beige cardigans, and designed buildings that weren’t about to fall anytime soon. in MIT he was the one who did all the work in a group project while everyone else was off having a good time. not because he was a control freak, it's bc he actually loved architecture. nothing got his blood pumping like a well-drafted blueprint. and as you can guess, he wasn't exactly fending off crowds of admirers with his passion for structural integrity lsfkslafkalsf

alex in a group project:

after mit, he moved to new york cityyyyyyyyyyy (pls read that with laszlo's voice). he got a job at an architecture firm called thompson & rivera architects, a mid-sized firm with just the right amount of prestige without the snobbery. he had a little apartment in hell's kitchen. his place looked like someone took an ikea catalog, sucked out all the personality, and called it home. minimalist to the point of tragedy, with a potted plant that only survived because it couldn’t be bothered to die.

alex didn’t just wake up and decide to move to asbury for the fun of it(that would be far too spontaneous for the practical prince). his design firm, landed a new project: a modern, trendy boutique hotel in town. he was picked as one of the junior architects to join the senior architects in overseeing the project. he’s not the lead designer OBVIOUSLY, but he's definitely in the inner circle, making sure everything’s structurally correct.

personality:

alex is awfully practical, grounded, and a bit of a perfectionist. and he justifies this by saying "i’m not being picky, i’m being precise". alex's idea of a VERY WILD night would be marie kondo-ing his collection of architectural books and magazines. despite his boring demeanor, he actually has a sense of humor and SURPRISINGLY he can take a joke. to mingle with the local folks, he joined the local bowling team. tbh he’s not the most outgoing person, but he values deep, meaningful relationships over casual friendships. once he is your friend, that means it's going to last forever.

outside of work alex enjoys cycling. (actually a little bit too much, he is cycling around as if he is training for tour de france). and then there’s his cooking obsession. during quarantine, he got into cooking and suddenly became that person who binged every jamie oliver video in existence. next thing you know, he be baking his own sourdough.

well, he has 'mild' ocd. and when I say mild, that's actually an understatement. he is very particular when it comes to organizing his workspace—everything has its place, and he gets mildly irritated if someone moves his things. he’s known to be a bit of a coffee snob, always in search of the perfect cup, and can be annoyingly particular about his brew (as someone who does not know shit about the coffee, I wonder how am i gonna write about this little quirk but we shall see).

OH OH OH ALSO HE IS A HUGE FAN OF THE KILLERS

connection ideas

cycling buddy: soo this dumbass is in a cycling group called "the pedal -pushers," (so original, i know). the group is full of people who take their biking way too seriously. their conversations are not the most entertaining to be honest, such as the best tire pressure or which helmet brand is the best. alex usually shows up in full cycling gear, complete with a helmet with green reflective stripes. that was his way of celebrating the brat summer.

barista (friend or nemesis depending how much they can tolerate alex): a local barista and fellow coffee enthusiast who shares his love for a perfect cup of coffee. orrr simply hating him because he always finds some fault in his coffee.

bowling team / squad: he also recently joined a bowling team. i'd love to discuss the team name and its details, so feel free to hmuuuuu

[betterbooktitles]

On looking older than I am:

By the time I was a teenager, I’d fully accepted my early adulthood. When I wasn’t playing a sport or acting in a play, my number one hobby was taking a John Updike book (sorry) to a coffee shop. I frequented a place within walking distance of my house in Cleveland called Talkies. I sat at the front bar with my book and ate a second lunch at 3 PM. I talked to random people sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes inside. One was a researcher at Case Western who studied molecular biology. He seemed to know no one in Cleveland except me and the baristas. Another guy was a white dude with dreadlocks, a gifted actor who bussed tables at the fancy restaurant next door. Every barista was a 20-something woman who told me about their various trysts in graphic detail. Multiple times the men offered me cigarettes or to split a joint outside. No wonder it took me years to finish one of the Rabbit novels. I was soaking up more than enough adult content in my real life than any book could offer.

The oddest encounter occurred at a hotel in Annapolis, Maryland when I was 15. I attended a boys’ catholic prep school and because my parents and I were taking a few college campus tours during our family trip, and you never know who you might bump into, I chose to wear the tie and khakis I would normally wear in class. I had chosen an aqua shirt with a bright textured gold tie that morning and was still wearing it when I approached the front desk that evening. I promised my English teacher I would have a late assingment on his desk Monday morning despite my travel schedule. I had finished writing it on my mom’s laptop and put it on a flash drive. 

“Is there an office in the hotel with a printer?” I asked the woman at the front desk. I deepened my voice. “My boss needs this report ASAP.”

The woman behind the desk wore a maroon and beige polo shirt with the name of the hotel embroidered on one side and a fat plastic name tag that read “Jess” on the other. She kept her curly brown hair tied back behind her head and looked like she was ready to take a nap rather than help one more jerk fix his malfunctioning room key or find the hotel’s office. She smiled though and led the way. We walked through a large banquet hall that looked like it was hosting a wedding or prom. Pink uplighting and one of those whirling balls with differently colored light filters spun around and painted the room. I watched fat white men in suits sip cocktails out of plastic cups and flirt with young women half their size and age. A number of them wore saris. 

“What is this?” I said aloud. 

“It’s a party for the IMF.” the woman said. “You’re not with them?”

“No, I’m on a different kind of work trip.” I said.

She kept walking until we found a door on the side of the room. Bright tube lighting poured into the mock nightclub when she opened it. I hurried in so as to not disturb the party atmosphere too long, and to my surprise, she shut the door behind us and stayed to watch me use the office. 

Computers in 2002, especially out-of-date communal ones used by everyone in a hotel, were not very fast. The fat glass monitor was already on, and when I opened the browser, I had a good two minutes to chat, which the hotel employee seemed keen on doing.

“So where are you headed?” She asked.

“Well, it’s here tonight, then New York, then upstate somewhere, back to Cleveland.”

“Busy weekend.” 

“Yes, we’re- I’m trying to squeeze in a lot.” 

We talked about my work. I vaguely said I was on a deadline for a writing assignment which made me sound like a journalist or someone with an entry-level publishing job. At some point, she said she was glad I wasn’t with the loud bankers because I seemed too nice and cute to work with them. 

Was this happening?

I found my little essay about Chaucer and clicked print. As a printer the size of a Fiat whirred to life and started pumping out the pages, the woman said: 

“I’m actually off the clock now if you want to have a drink with me.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

I put the essay in a folder (not a professional manila folder, a high school-ass, bright glossy blue folder with my school’s logo on it) and followed her to the hotel bar.

I ordered a beer in the annoying fake way people do in movies: the actor walks up to the bar and instead of checking what’s on tap or thinking of their brand of choice like ‘Bud’ or ‘Stella’ or even naming a type like ‘stout’ or ‘pilsner’ the actor confidently says “I’ll have a beer” and the extra playing the bartender wordlessly gets to pouring.

“I’ll have a beer!” I said to the bartender who squinted his eyes at me and cocked his head. 

“OK…” he pointed at Jess, who still had her uniform and name tag on. 

“Jack and Coke, Ben.” 

I sipped the beer slowly. We drank and talked about work and if Jess was going to bite the bullet and go to grad school. She asked if I wanted, when we finished our drinks, to go with her to a house party up the street.

“We can smoke a bowl, listen to my friend play some music. It’ll be fun.” she assure me.

“I really shouldn’t,” I said, “We’re- I’m… I have an early morning.”

“Ah,” she said, looking down at her drink.

I now realize that every coy excuse I made sounded like I had a girlfriend or wife at home and I maybe had a problem with drugs and alcohol that might make me do something I regretted. I was playing an adult better than I ever had in my life.

“So, someone is with you in your room, then?” Jess asked nervously.

“Yeah. There are people in my room.” 

And here, dear reader, I’m sorry (or happy) to tell you that I fessed up.

“I’m staying with my parents.” I said.

“Oh. That’s sweet. Are they meeting up with you on this trip? Where are they from?”

“We drove here together from Cleveland, actually.”

“Oh, OK.” She said, looking confused.

“I- You see. I’m not on a work trip. I’m seeing schools.” I looked at the bartender who was pretending not to listen on the other side of the empty bar.

“Grad schools?”

“No. Listen. Sorry. I’m in high school.”

“Wait- how old are you?”

“I’m 15.”

“Jesus. Uuughh!” She leaned her torso over the bar as if she was fainting, and looked up at me with one eye over her glass. “Oh, boy. I know how to pick ‘em.”

“I look older,” I said, consolingly. 

“Yes. You do. Oh, God. Wow. OK. Ummm.” She sat up and did a little drum roll with her hands on the bar.

I chugged the rest of my beer. 

Read the rest of the essay here.

[unfriendlyamazon]

restaurant au (wheeler sibs)

rewatching the bear thinking about my au idea where joey inherits his father's restaurant i don't really have things hammered out just yet but i did find some test pieces i wrote exploring joey and serenity's relationship to each other (and their trauma)

read it tell me if you like it might make me feel motivated to write more

Joey pressed his head against the window of Serenity’s car as they crawled through the streets of Domino. The old neighborhood left an unpleasant broiling in his stomach, a nostalgia that soured like milk. It’d been years since he’d been here, even longer for Serenity. The last time she’d seen this place, she’d been driven away in the backseat of a car as the two cried out fitful goodbyes.

Joey had already re-acquainted himself with his childhood stomping grounds. He’d come back the week before to clean out his dad’s rathole apartment and go through the mess of papers and receipts crammed into odd corners and underneath stale pizza boxes. He’d died right outside, too drunk to walk, and he’d tripped on the stairs before bashing his head into the sidewalk. The police had told Joey he’d died on the way to the hospital, saving everyone a lot of time. Joey was still listed as his emergency contact. The thought had burrowed between his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Five years without so much as a phone call, and Joey was still the only person he’d had.

A week of digging through the old man’s life. A week of trash bags and old photos and empty beer cans. A week wondering what he was even doing here. And then he’d found it, stuck into a stack of personal paperwork that had been crammed into a desk drawer so tight it’d barely opened. The address had been a familiar one, and the streets leading up to it even more so. Serenity pulled up to the curb outside and put the car in park. She didn’t turn it off. Her hands stayed on the steering wheel like the Uber driver onto her next gig.

Joey leveled his head to peer out the window. The place had changed enough. The corners had different stores on them, and the billboards were changed. They’d redone the sidewalk outside, and now it was coffee shops and microbrews. The small shop front stuck out like a sore thumb. It had been boarded up for years, so long the cardboard was peeling back, showing corners of the faded wall and dirty countertops inside. It was a restaurant. It had been a restaurant. Years and years and years ago. It’d been theirs.

Serenity didn’t take her hands off the steering wheel. She breathed in and out intentionally.

“It looks pretty bad,” Joey said.

She shook her head with a strained laugh. “I didn’t think it’d look good, Joey.”

He unbuckled his seat belt. “Are you coming inside?”

She looked for the first time. Serenity had been quiet through this whole process. He didn’t ask her to clean the apartment with her, or attend any funeral. She’d been empathetic and sorry since he first called her from New York, but she hadn’t been sad. As far as Serenity was concerned, she didn’t have a father, didn’t have to worry over one, didn’t have to shoulder any trauma from one. But they’d both been here. They’d both reached their little hands over the counter or played in the back office behind the kitchen. There’d been happy memories too. It was the first crack she’d shown on her face, the first tremor in her lips. She stared at the store front like it was a haunted house.

“You don’t have to,” Joey said.

“No,” she said and cut the car off. “No, I said I would.”

“You don’t have to,” he repeated.

“We’re already here, Joey,” she said and opened the car door.

The lights didn’t work inside. Flipping the switches didn’t do a goddamn thing. Joey doubted anyone had paid the electricity bill for years. Even in the dim space, with decades between the last time they’d been inside, Joey knew the way through the kitchen. He followed the line past the prep stations, around where the grill had been, where a sink full of dirty dishwater still sat stagnant. An alcove of lockers sat on one side, and a small door led to the back office. Ancient grease caked the walls and the stainless steel. The front wasn’t much better off. Dust covered everything. The vinyl seats were torn with stuffing eaten out of it. Bugs moved in his wake. Plenty of creatures had probably made their home here. Serenity’s phone cast blue light across the graying walls, leaving stark shadows around her.

“This place is a dump,” she said, scrolling through something on her phone. “I can’t believe it’s still here. You’d think the city would shut it down.”

“I bet he got letters about it.” Joey kicked one of the stools at the service counter. The scraping sound echoed over the tile. Sunlight peeked in through the cardboard on the windows.

“The rent in this neighborhood is crazy now.” She flashed the Zillow listings she was looking through. “Maybe someone would actually buy it.”

“Yeah.” He breathed out, eyes scanning the decay and rot. The dust made the place feel oppressive, and his chest tightened. “I bet someone’s been waiting to snatch it up.”

“I can’t believe it’s still here,” Serenity said again. She glanced up from her phone, and then her eyes went down again.

“It’s a mess,” Joey said and turned back around.

“It always was. You remember when we played here as kids?”

“I remember throwing raw hamburger meat at cars,” Joey said.

She laughed, slapping a hand over her mouth. “We did do that! I totally forgot. No wonder I’m a vegetarian now.”

“And they’d stuff us with fries to keep us quiet.”

“We were little brats.”

They moved back into the kitchen, using the phone light to navigate to the office. Their laughter echoed off the aged equipment. More paperwork was stuffed into more drawers. Joey’d never accuse his old man of being organized. Ledgers were kept with a language all their own.

“Did he ever let you work the line?” Serenity asked.

Joey shook his head as he opened a folder of what looked like overdue bills. Large red letters stared angrily up at him.

“I never worked the restaurant here,” he said.

“But it’s kind of where you got your start.” Serenity glanced at the empty kitchen. “You didn’t go to culinary school for no reason.”

“I didn’t go to sling burgers.” He tossed aside the folder and picked up another one. Names were side by side with numbers. Wages owed, he figured out. He doubted anyone had been receiving regular checks.

“It was really cool to see you in New York,” she said. “The whole meal I kept thinking, my big brother made this. I thought for sure they were gonna turn us away at the door too.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t that fancy.”

“It was pretty fancy! Tristan wore a jacket.”

“He did that to impress you,” Joey said with a grin.

“Nah, he was worried the whole time we weren’t ritzy enough for your new friends.” She smiled fondly at him. “You finally made it to the big leagues.”

Joey was grateful for the shine of her flashlight, that he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. He opened the bottom drawer, and a heavy bottle clunked against the filing cabinet. He pulled it out, and the clear vodka reflected blue light. Half the bottle had been drank. The levity left the room at once, like all the air had been sucked out. Serenity turned her head away. Joey held it fisted in his hand, and for a brief moment he imagined cracking it against the desk so it shattered apart, spilling vodka and glass all over the floor. Instead he set it on the table and stood up from the chair.

“I don’t think there’s anything left here,” he said.

Serenity didn’t say anything, and he felt that weight pushing his lungs apart. He shouldn’t have asked her to come with him, but he didn’t think he could face it alone. The good times hurt worse than the bad sometimes. Happy memories wrapped his head in barbed wire. It wasn’t something he’d ever wanted his baby sister to feel, and yet he’d dragged her through the trenches with him.

And then she said, “Do you think there are any glasses?”

Joey rubbed his eyes. The glare of the phone was getting to him. “I dunno.”

“I know they usually sell this stuff off, but I bet there’s something. Bring the bottle.”

He followed her around as she opened every door and cabinet she could find. Eventually she managed two tupperware containers, rinsed with the water that shuddered out of the faucets. Clean enough for the both of them, they settled at the counter. Serenity sat so her feet rested on the stool, and she poured them each a shot.

“It’s been a fucked up week,” she said.

Joey didn’t respond. She hadn’t been the one digging through literal garbage. Avoiding drinking when working in restaurants was nearly impossible, though he did his best. But it had been a fucked up week, and standing in the wreckage of his childhood, Joey downed the shot in one go. Serenity shot hers back and poured them both another one.

“Did mom say anything?” Joey asked. He’d been dreading the question, but now seemed as good a time as any.

Serenity downed a second shot and squeezed her eyes shut. “Not really. And what’s she supposed to say anyway? ‘Sorry that abusive piece of shit died’?”

“She doesn’t like to talk about it,” Joey said.

“No.” She swished the bottle. “I told her you were in town.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“She was gonna know anyway. I thought maybe she’d call you, or I dunno.”

Joey tossed back the second shot. The burn didn’t do anything to lighten the weight in his chest. “I don’t expect her to do any of that.”

“I just want…” She trailed off, tipping the bottle into her cup again. Joey took the bottle from her and poured some in his. “Do you ever think things could be different? We could be different?”

“Yes,” he said. “Constantly. All the time.”

Her lips quirked up in a smile. “I was so proud of you when you went off to school. Not even ‘cause you thought you wouldn’t go. You found something you loved to do. That’s more than most people.”

“What about you?”

She laughed. “No one loves being an accountant, Joey. I picked a safe job and a safe career.”

“That’s more than most people have,” he said. “It’s not like I love waking up every day not sure where I’m gonna be.”

“But you’re where you’re supposed to be. You’re at this restaurant–”

“I’m not going back to New York,” he said.

Serenity’s mouth snapped shut. She wobbled a little bit as the alcohol hit. He didn’t bother pouring another shot as he tipped the bottle back into his throat.

“But you–” She peered at him like a puzzle she was figuring out. “You’re at a Michelin star restaurant. You’re doing what you love.”

“I don’t love it there,” Joey said. It was the first time he’d explained his reasoning out loud. The words had rattled around in his brain for months, and now he had to put them in order. “You gotta understand what it’s like in the restaurant business, Serenity. Every day you wake up at the crack of dawn and put your heart and soul into something that hates you. Every day is eighteen hour shifts where your chef screams at you and holds you to the fire because you’re not doing something absolutely perfect. Every day is blood and sweat and tears and for what? A restaurant I don’t give a fuck about? It’s not about the food for them. It’s not about feeding people. It’s keeping that fucking star and making sure people know it. You can only tweezer so many sprigs of mint onto an aperitif before you start to feel like an asshole.”

“So what?” she said. “You’re just going to abandon your whole life up there?”

He sunk his head down onto the counter. It smelled like mold and rat shit. “What life? I got nobody there. You’re here. Tristan is here. Everyone there is so fucking full of themselves there’s no room for anybody else. I wake up, I work, and I get just enough sleep to keep myself from going crazy.”

“But you worked for this. You put yourself through school. You made it.”

“Yeah, well.” He closed his eyes. Underneath the grime and grease, he could imagine for a second what this place used to be. “Not everything is what we dreamed.”

She went silent. He didn’t know how long it stretched between them. The vodka burned in his stomach, rising up like acid reflux. He wished for the hundredth time since getting the news about his dad that he could cry about this whole thing. It’d be easier just to be sad and not relieved, and then sad again over the worst chapters of his life closing. Sometimes it was easier just to take the pain of it.

“I thought,” Serenity said slowly, “you were happy, at least.”

“Are you?” he asked.

She grabbed the bottle from him and swigged it. He nodded. It was answer enough.

“I try thinking of the last time I was happy,” Joey said. “Is it fucked up if the answer is here?”

Serenity laughed. “Yes!”

“You remember this place too.”

“We were babies, Joey.” She shook her head. “And it was before shit got really bad. This place is just…”

They looked around at it. Empty, dirty, it felt like a void. But the sunlight peeked through, and it streaked bright light across the dingy ceiling, making it look alive.

“It’s got good bones,” Joey said. “Nice front of house, in a busy area. Someone’ll snatch it up.”

“It’d take an industrial crew to get this place clean,” Serenity said with a sigh.

“Most of the equipment’s sold off too.” He swirled the vodka in its bottle. “But that’s an easy fix. I still know some people around here.”

“They’d probably bulldoze it anyway,” she said. “They’d be paying for the lot.”

“Yeah.” Joey thought as he took another shot. The melancholy was stirred in the gears of his mind as they started to churn. “Yeah. It’d be a shame to see the space go to waste. A little clean up, some new equipment, it’d be a good bistro spot.”

“It doesn’t–” She looked at him. “Joey, it’s not gonna matter. We’re selling it.”

“Why?” he asked. He stood from his chair, spreading his arms out. “People would kill for a spot like this.”

“So let ‘em pay,” she said. “Joey, I think you’re drunk.”

“Probably.” The buzz went straight to his head, but he could see it. Not how it used to be, but how it could be. “Don’t think of it as some shitty burger joint. We could pull out the booths and the seating nice. Those windows are huge, you’d be able to see onto the street. Nice ambiance. Keep the counter seating here, it’d be great for lunch or a bar.”

Serenity laughed. “It’s not happening! This place is a dump, Joey, it always has been.”

“Then back of house,” he barrelled on. “Remodel would be easy, it’s already all emptied out. Efficient work spaces, minimum time between spaces. Windows, people love to see the chefs. And the food–”

“What would be the food?” she asked. “Burgers?”

He shook his head. “Karaage, probably. I used to eat that all the time when I was working. Maybe izakaya style. Friendly, welcoming. Not too full of itself.”

“Japanese, then.” Serenity nodded. “You really want to do a sake bar?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just tossing out ideas.”

“Joey, I know you’re spiraling or whatever, but coming back here isn’t really moving forward.” She ran a hand through her hair with a huff. “Maybe you should take some time. You can crash on my couch. Once we sell the place, you’ll have some money to start something else.”

“I just think there’s something here,” he said.

“Fine, okay,” she said. “Let’s say we don’t sell it. How are you gonna get the money to fix it up? Restaurants cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. They take real work. You’re going to have to get new equipment, staff it, pay people, pay vendors.”

“I’ve got connects. I can beg, lie, cheat, and steal. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.” He took his sister’s hands, squeezing tight. “Give me at least a little bit of time. I wanna see what this place can be.”

“You said you were tired of not knowing where you’re gonna be,” she said. “Joey, this is all risk. There’s nothing here that’s worth it.”

“What about you?” he said. “What about me?”

They looked at each other, two kids again, holding on tight. Serenity shook her head and picked up the bottle again.

“The place is yours,” she said. “I don’t want it, and I can live without selling it. I just don’t want you getting caught up in something to torture yourself. It’s okay, you know? You don’t have to be stuck here.”

“What if I wanna be?” Joey asked.

She downed the drink and coughed out a laugh. “Then you got bigger problems than the both of us. But I’m your sister. I love you. I don’t want you doing anything alone.”

He threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight. She laughed again, hugging him back. They rocked back and forth for a minute. The vodka was definitely affecting them. And Joey loved nothing more than to do something stupid.

“Okay,” Serenity said. “I’m done breathing in mold. Can we go to a real restaurant now? I would die for some hot wings.”

“Alright, alright.” He released her. “Let’s go.”

They locked the door behind them and stepped into the sunlight, a little rocky on their feet. Joey knew Serenity would give him a bigger fight when they sobered up, but the idea had wormed its way into his skull. His brain was on fire. He felt the same way he always did when making a life changing decision that should leave him buried in the dirt.

He felt alive.

[bellalampwickrossi]

Disney Descendants : Tiger Lily x Lampwick story ideas Part 2

They wanted a really quiet weekend after Tiger Peony was born. When she started sleeping through the night they made their way to a place in the woods where it was quiet. No students, no pirates, no Lost Boys. They just chilled and listened to music and enjoyed each other's company. Left Tiger Peony with Tiger Lily's parents for the weekend and actually SLEPT.

Tiger Lily got offered a job to teach in Auradon Prep. She didn't really want to move from Neverland but it was a REALLY cool job. She loved the idea of teaching the girls sports teams. And competing with her old frenemy Jenkins. Lampwick told her to think and he'd support her no matter what. She didn't end up taking the job but his support meant the world to her.

They went on a New York trip once. The subway is way scarier than Auradon City's but it was so cool to see the streets. The theatre was fantastic and there was so much new food to check out! Overall they had a blast. They both agree they'd never live their though. Too many jerks and way too crowded. They love going to cafes. Lampwick isn't a great baker so they load up on pastries. There's a small Italian one Lampwick LOVES that has a lot of the things he liked growing up. They sit there and drink coffee and eat cake for hours. It's the best! The kids liked it too because they could have samples and play in the garden They're the best travel partners. They're great at knowing what the other will need or want. They take great photos! They're open to finding new stuff to do or going by a plan. They always find fun things to do. And they don't mind hanging out in the hotel watching tv if the weather is miserable.

They were afraid of the subway at first. They'd only go if they went together. It was fun and they saw lots of new people. Gradually it turned into an adventure. They want to go all the time and they drag the other along. They were so excited for the wedding. Lampwick almost fainted he was so happy the first time she called him her husband. She also smiled like a dork about him calling her wife. They know it was rushed but it all worked out. They wanted their lives to start then, not later. Based on the family today they'd say it paid off.

Thanks again to @askauradonprep /@blenderbender1811 for these !