#the pajama pants/no shirt combination is killing me like damn

[somethin-stupid-67]

having absolutely insane thoughts about this

credit to saulworshipper69 (lol) on tik tok!

[willyoubemycherryy]

Awkard…maybe not? (C. Sturniolo x reader)

𝑶𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓➬ 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

“𝐽𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛! 𝐼𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛’𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑢𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!”

𝑰𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐 𝒔𝒙, 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒚 𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆, 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒚, 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒇 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄, 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 ^^, 𝒂 “𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅” 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 “𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅”, 𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒐 𝑫𝑶𝑵’𝑻 𝒇𝒖̈𝒄𝒌 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔, 𝒘𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐𝒐 𝒃𝒐𝒚

.𖤐☆彡.°

This just might be the most mortifying thing to ever happen to you in the history of your life ever.

The boys hadn’t stopped by in a while (they had a habit of sporadically popping up) and it was just you so, you figured you’d have some alone time with your favorite pink bullet.

After showering and making sure everything was nice and clean, you went to your room and got started. The mood came easy as your hands caressed all over your body, teasing your wet nub with one hand and lubing your bullet vibe with the other then inserting it up your…

The light stretch combined with the vibrations made you sigh in pleasure as you teased yourself more intensely. You felt good and everything was going great until you came and tried to take out the toy that you realized you couldn’t.

You couldn’t reach it.

Freezing in panic, your breath hitches and you swear your gonna have a stroke. You try another position and try to reach it but you still can’t. You try not to cry but tears bead in your eyes as frustration bubbles inside you. It so wasn’t fair. All you wanted to do was enjoy yourself but nooo your ass just couldn’t live.

At this point, all the sheer fear and indignation rises up your throat and you let out a horror movie worthy wail, screaming like a possessed woman.

But since your luck had been so great, the flurry of knocks and rings at your door stop you in your tracks.

Not now.

You could not handle a triplet tornado right now.

The noise at your door doesn’t stop so you throw on some pajama pants and a loose shirt to go open the door and realize on the way there that the buzzing from your vibe is audible.

Kill you now, actually.

Huffing and tossing your hair a bit, you open the door and instead of three, there’s only one.

Chris’s smile drops as he notices your face.

“Hey? I wanted to come hang n see if you wanted to mini golf with us later..but if now’s a bad tim-“ he’s speaking gently but you cut him off with a groan. No mini golf hate. “Chris, you couldn’t have just called me?” You whine and Chris throws his hands up in surrender. “Woahh, i did. You didn’t pick up.”

Well damnit.

You both get quiet and that’s when he hears it. The faint buzzing makes him furrow his brows as he looks down at you.

“What is that?”

The embarrassment makes your heart rate skyrocket as you flush before yanking him inside by his hoodie. Dragging him up to your room, you slam him against the door. Slapping your hand over his mouth you swear him to secrecy because you’d be damned if anyone, including his brothers, ever found out about this and if someone ever did, you’d know exactly who told them and you swear to Chris that you would never speak to him again.

Nodding furiously against your hand, he takes out his phone and shows you him turning it off and that’s when you let him go.

“W-what the fuck? No, what’s wrong?? And what’s with the buz-“

“I got my vibrator stuck up my ass!”

You wish you took a picture of his face as he registered your words.

“I BEG YOUR MOST GLORIOUS PARDON?!”

•

•

•

After explaining to Chris how it got stuck, he sat on your bed arguing with you about what the next steps should be.

If you weren’t humiliated before, explaining your masturbation session gone south with one of the hottest guys on the planet would certainly do it.

“It’s MY ass! It can stay where it wants!”

“But that makes no sense! If you won’t go to the hospital, then let me help!”

Pause. The visual alone buries you and you snap completely.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! Where is your SHAME?! I’m not letting you look, let alone dig around in there!” Chris rolls his eyes before standing up to match you.

“It’s fine! Just bend over and pull your pants down! It can’t stay stuck up there!”

Fuck he has a point. Taking in a shaky breath, you look down. Tears pool in your eyes because it couldn’t stay in and you were fucking terrified.

There’s a loud sigh before you feel hands cupping your face as Chris makes you look at him. His eyes make your heart stop in a way that contradicts the “friends” part of your relationship but you ignore it.

“Look, it’s embarrassing and I get it but don’t worry about that. I just wanna help, m’not judging you. Okay, kid?” Flushing, he’s rarely ever this soothing, you nod. “Yeah, okay,” pausing, you ask, “w-what do I do? So you can…?” This time, there’s a faint blush on Chris’s cheeks as he clears his throat and moves so you can go lie down.

“Right, well…pants off, all fours, not facing me.”

Taking a deep breath you follow his instructions and Chris feels like the air just got punched out of his chest. The arousal from before is still wet on your pussy and fuck it looks so pretty. He’s praying to god he can keep it down because he really can see everything as he kneels on the carpeted floor behind you, checking in. “Alright, talk to me. S’it okay if I start now?” He’s talking lower but the feel of his breath on your skin makes you shiver, the exposure has your head spinning as you nod.

“Yeah, go ahead..but just..,”

“Hmm?“

“C-can you see? Like…everything?” You sound so cute all shy that Chris almost coos at you.

“Yeah mamas..I can see…but you’re perfectly fine.”

Letting out a breath, you nod and wait for him.

“Okay, I’m gonna start so try to relax..” Chris says, smoothing his hands up the sides of your thighs. His palms are warm and you sigh absentmindedly at the pleasant feeling. His fingers move up to your hole and the wetness makes him swear internally as he asks again, “okay?” You whisper back, “okay”, then he’s slowly sliding in, and you gasp. Tightening instinctively as you feel them wiggle around. Your blush is down to your back as you hear him swear.

“Jesus, fuck- kid”, taking in a deep breath with you but for a different reason entirely, your tight and slick but he tries to remind himself that this shouldn’t be sexy. You’re his friend who he’s definitely never been attracted to, that he’s helping.

“Ch-chris..? Do you f-feel it?” His fingers are longer than yours but they’re not that deep which your grateful for.

Luckily he does, pressing it down near your bellybutton so it doesn’t get lost again, sliding it out as it vibrates his fingers.

“Yeah, hold on-“ he cuts himself off as a moan bursts out of you. Looking down, you’re dripping wet and he’s so hard his dick hurts. You apologize profusely because this was already awkward but you couldn’t help it. Chris slowly gets it out as it falls into his palm. He turns off the pink offense as you turn to look at him.

He’s still on his knees but that’s the least of the concerns. His eyes are blown and the blue makes them even more intense, still, you awkwardly thank him.

Nodding with a half grin, he gets up and that’s when you notice he’s hard. Your eyes go wide as you stare at the outline through his sweats before Chris clears his throat, making your eyes snap up to meet his. Chris drops the toy in your hand, “There. I believe that’s yours, I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick so be back”, you barely nod before he’s gone as you process what the fuck just happened while you clean up and get new shorts on and throw your stupid toy out the window.

Meanwhile Chris is in your bathroom trying to will away his erection and not think about you as he washes his hands but it doesn’t work and he can still smell the strawberry flavored lube so he dries his hands and goes back to your room.

You’re in different shorts looking just as embarrassed as before, as he comes to sit next to you.

“Chris I-“

“Don’t worry about it Buzz, I won’t tell.” You scoff at the nickname while he chuckles, you shake your head.

“I was gonna say your dick is still hard but live your best life or whatever.” His mouth drops in an offended gasp and he fires back.

“I just found out your bad ass is an anal freak! Obviously I’m hard!”

Your eyebrow jumps in shock as you stare in disbelief before nodding with a shrug.

“That’s fair…”

It’s quiet for a minute as you two try to ignore what friendly things you don’t want to do with each other but you cave. “Well, since you helped me out…can I return the favor?” Chris drops his head back with a groan because you can’t say shit like that as he looks at you uncertainly.

“Only if you want t-“ you cut him off eagerly.

“Oh I one hundred percent want to just, y’know, you scratch my back I scratch yours...“

Nodding with a smile, Chris hurries and pulls you into his lap, kissing you on the lips.

“Well the funny thing about my back is….”

♡︎ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ, ᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴅᴏʟʟᴀʀ😌

[drakenology]

Vapors - Bakugo Katsuki

warnings!: use of drugs (weed), smut, a lil comedy, fluff (cause im a cancer and we love romance in this house.) swearing because bakugo, Bakugo aged up (cause we don’t fuck children ‘round here), and sex under the influence of drugs. i also sprinkled some daddy kink up in here so...

author’s note: THANK YOU GUYS SOOOO MUCH FOR 100 NOTES ON MY RECENT POSTS!!! I really appreciate all the love, it makes me so happy to see that you guys like my work. Remember I’m taking requests and asks so please don’t be shy! here’s yet another bakugo smut because.. well, i’m obsessed with this man ok?? AND we need more stoner Bakugo idc idc idc. enjoy!

summary: Bakugo is a stoner and you’ve been kind of a goody two shoes for most of your life until the night you smoked with your boyfriend for the first time. 

It was a calm evening at home. You had just finished cleaning the home you shared with Bakugo as he helped by washing the dishes. You sigh, putting away the vacuum as you go and hop in the shower. You loved when he took days off of being a hero to spend some time with you at home. As you take your shower, you hear your boyfriend singing along to his favorite song; you smile as you hear him carelessly belt the notes off key. You loved his stupid ass so much. If you had ever told anyone he was a softie for you he’d probably kill you himself, but you still cherish the moments when he’s at his sweetest. You step out of the shower, drying yourself off as you dress yourself in a t-shirt and fleece pajama pants to keep warm and cozy. You walk out to the living room to a strong stench that completely caught you off guard. Bakugo was sitting on the couch, singing his song in his own little world; rolling a joint for him to smoke. 

“Katsuki! I told you no smoking in the house!” You nag, walking over to him. He smirked up at you, continuing to roll. He was in a really good mood today. He spent the day smoking weed and fucking his hot girlfriend. Even if she was a little uptight, she was fucking gorgeous and she had a good heart. Though he really wished you’d loosen your corset a bit. 

“Relax, shitty woman. I’m taking this outside. Just rollin’ up as all.” He said, concentrating on sealing his joint. He licked the seams of the paper, looking you in the eyes as he did so. He chuckled as he watched your face turn red. 

“You’ve never smoked before, huh?” Kastuki asked you, raising a brow at you as you watched him carefully roll his joint. You sat next to him, folding your arms as you shake your head no. Katsuki smoked, not a lot but whenever he had time to himself and you knew that. You never had a problem with it, you just never smoked yourself. 

“I’d never. I used to think weed was so bad for you. But you smoke it and you seem fine.” You admit, watching him hold a lighter over his joint to seal the edges. 

“Did you wanna try it with me? If not that’s fine, I’m not pressuring you to do anything you don’t want to, princess.” He said, cupping your chin in his hand as he gave you a small peck on your nose. You smile and think briefly. Katsuki knows that you’ve always been a goody two shoes. Ever since you two were kids, you were always so afraid to get into trouble for anything. He remembers when you cried all the way through detention for bickering with him in middle school. It was your first and only detention. You were so hysterical, it was as if someone died. You were just always so sweet and innocent. You never cussed or got too angry and that’s what Katsuki loved about you. You were such a calming spirit. Even though he was the complete opposite, it worked as you balanced each other out. 

“Okay. But just this one night.” You giggle, hopping up out of your seat. He stands up and walks to the balcony of your apartment, smacking your ass as you walk through the sliding door. You two were sat next to each other, watching the sun set over the clouds as he lights up the joint for you both to share. 

“Now I just wanna warn you, please don’t feel like you gotta keep up with me. You can stop when you feel like you’ve had enough. Okay?” He said, taking a drag. You nod, watching him closely to see how to properly smoke a joint. It had to be a science right? He takes another slow drag and blew out the smoke, passing it to you so you can have a hit. You take it and hold it like a cigarette, making Katsuki laugh as he watched his goody goody smoke weed for the first time. You take a puff, one that was a little too big for you to start off and immediately you cough up the smoke. Katsuki pats your back as he handed you some water to help your throat. 

“Idiot.” He shakes his head, laughing slightly. You lightly hit his chest, trying to take another drag. 

“Just inhale. You’re overthinking it.” He said watching you slowly take a drag. Sure enough after following Bakugo’s instruction, you blow out the smoke. You felt your body instantly relax, your eyes hazy and low as you watch Katsuki smoke some more. God, he was so attractive. You’ve never sat and watched him smoke before, he’d always leave the room out of respect for you not liking the smoke in the house. But with the way your body feels right now, you think you’d been missing out for sure. You take in his form, he was slouched in his chair with his legs spread out as he smoked. You felt yourself blush as you watched him, in awe of his stature. He passed you the joint once more and you happily took another drag. You loved the high you were feeling, the stars in the sky twinkling much more pristine as then usual. You become a little giggly, your first time being high just seemed so hilarious. 

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Bakugo says looking at you with hazy eyes, your laughter roaring through his ears. 

“I-I’m sorry I just- AHAHAHAHA!” You burst, hunching over laughing at practically nothing. Being high was kinda fun. Bakugo laughs with you, putting out the joint when he was done. 

“That’s enough for you, shitty woman.” He said standing up from his chair. You slowly stand up from your seat as you wobble a little, feeling your balance being thrown off by the influence of weed. He helps you inside, opening the door for you letting you walk in first. As a tradition, he smacks you ass as you walk through the door. You looked especially delicious when he was high, his pants feeling a little tight just looking at you. He plops down on the couch and turned on the T.V, flipping through Netflix as you walked into the kitchen. 

“I’m fucking HUNGRY.” You blurt out, looking through the cabinets for something to snack on. Katsuki froze, unsure that he heard what he just heard.

“D-Did you just fucking cuss?” He asked, completely shocked. Never in his years of knowing you has he ever heard you utter a swear word. He tried to get you to at least say “Damn.” and that never worked. 

“Oh shit... I did just cuss. Oh shit I just cussed again! FUCK!” You laugh, not being able to contain your foul language. It felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders, finally loosening your metaphorical corset. Katsuki laughed. 

“What’s gotten into you, huh?” He asked sarcastically, standing up from his seat on the couch. He walked towards you to see you stuffing you face with every snack from your pantry. You had a seriously bad case of the munchies, crunching away at some potato chips. 

“We gotta go food shopping tomorrow. Ain’t shit in here to eat. UGH why does food taste so fucking good right now!?” You said, cussing with ease at this point. Bakugo inched closer to you shaking his head, snatching the bag of chips away from you as he started to eat them. You frown, grabbing some cookies instead. 

“Gimme one.” Bakugo said, grabbing the cookie out of your mouth with his, taking a bite from it. You blush as you chew your own cookie, watching him look down at you. You never really realized how much taller Bakugo was compared to you. You took your hand and wiped some crumbs from the corner of his mouth, kissing him deeply as you pulled him closer to you. Katsuki kissed you back, picking you up and sitting you on the kitchen counter. The kiss under the influence felt amazing. It was like time froze while you kissed, your lips combined feeling like electricity as you melt into him. You feel yourself getting wetter by the second, immensely turned on by this man. You tug at the hem of his shirt for him to take it off, earning a chuckle from Katsuki. 

“You’re horny as fuck right now, aren’t you?” He asked, leaning in to kiss your neck. “I can tell you’re probably soaked right now.” You moan as he left open mouth kisses down your neck, reaching under your shirt to grab and squeeze at your bare breasts. You feel absolutely blissful, your panties soaking at this point. Why did everything feel so fucking good right now? 

“Kachan~” You whine, trying to grind against him as he licked and sucked on your neck, pinching your nipples lightly. You feel as if you’re about to cum just from him playing with your boobs and kissing your neck, your pussy pulsating as you grab onto him for dear life. All the pleasure was becoming so blinding you never wanted this feeling to go away. Katsuki lifts you up again to walk back into the living room with you in his arms, sitting on the couch with you on his lap. 

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He said, nibbling on your ear. You moan, grinding against his growing bulge, taking off your shirt to reveal your nude breasts to him. 

“You, daddy.” You purr. Katsuki freezes a little, shocked by what you just called him. You were pretty vanilla so hearing you call him daddy turned him feral. 

“Say it again.” He demanded, taking a nipple into his mouth. You moan, still grinding your pussy against the tent he was pitching in his pants, running your hands through his hair. 

“I want you, daddyy. Please fuck me.” You whine, getting off his lap as he stood. Your obedience was turning him on so much he just had to have you, not caring where in the house he took you at this point. He slid off your pants and panties in one go, kneeling down to get a closer looks at your wetness. 

“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, baby.” he hissed, kissing your inner thighs. “I would eat you out for being such a good girl but I need to be inside you. Now.” He said, standing up to take off his pants and his boxers, his thick length springing out as he pulled them down. You almost drool at the sight, spreading your legs and rubbing your pussy as you imagined his length stretching you out. You were never this sultry in the bedroom, always having Katsuki initiate. But tonight, you had a hunger you needed to be fulfilled. 

“You’re so fucking sexy..” Katsuki moaned, pumping his dick a few times before grabbing your face to kiss you with tongue. He pulled away to grab you by your neck, the dominating look in his eyes making your pussy gush. 

“Bend your sexy ass over.” He growled, letting you go as you obliged. He crouched behind you and gave your pussy a few taps with his dick before sliding inside your slick folds. You have never felt this good. Sex with Katsuki had always been amazing but tonight this was different. You moan sinfully as you felt him stretch you out, his thrusts progressing as he fucked you good. 

“D-Daddyy.” You moan, gripping the arm of the couch for dear life. He smacks your ass a few times, quickening his pace as he grabbed you hair to pull it. You lean into the couch, one leg on the seat and one planted onto the floor, hardly being able to keep you stable as your legs shake. You feel your release come quicker than expected, you reaching back to rub your clit in harsh circles. 

“You make me feel so good daddy. Fuck, I love you!” You scream, pushing your face into your hands as Katsuki continued the assault on your g-spot. You start clenching around him, the sound of your moans and skin slapping together filled the living room as Katsuki starts to sweat, a caramel scent filling your nose. 

“So fucking sexy, baby. You gonna cum for me?” He asked, his hard thrusts causing you to see stars. Your moans are the only thing Katsuki can hear, unsatified as he pulled you up to him by your hair. 

“I can’t hear you, baby.” He said, fucking you even harder,  you not knowing that was even possible. You can hardly form a sentence, you responding with frantic yeses and moans and I love yous. He smirked, throwing you back onto the couch as he feels you clench around him once more. If he knew you were gonna be this frisky he would have gotten you high a long time ago.  

“I’m gonna cum, daddy! I- oh!” You shriek, cumming around his dick to Katsuki’s delight. He smacks you ass hard as he helps you ride out your orgasm only to quicken his pace again, chasing his own release. 

“Yeah.. ‘M gonna cum, baby. You ready?” He asked sweetly, kissing your back as he pounds you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, gasping for air to try and answer him. 

“C-Cum inside me, daddy. Oh god yes!” You moan, biting your lip. He did just that, a strong grunt leaving his mouth as he slowed down his movements, his cum painting your womb white. You sigh, almost missing his dick inside you as he pulled out of you. He picked you up and carried you to your shared room. 

“Can we smoke again later?” You ask innocently. He laughed and walked into the bathroom to start you both a bath. 

“Sure baby.” He said, giving you a sweet kiss. He pulled out the joint you both hadn’t finished as he led you into the bath. He goes to light it before looking to you to see if it was okay to smoke in the bathroom. 

“Fuck it.” You say, laughing as he lights up the joint for you to relax in your bath. 

[danny-chase]

Hello! May I request the pneumonia square on your bthb card for Dick with Bruce taking care of him?

Thanks for the request!

Pneumonia - read on AO3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: bruce wayne centric, Dick grayson centric, Sickfic, Pneumonia, Blood, Stitches, Dick Grayson is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Damian Wayne, Sick/hurt Dick Grayson, mentions past passive suicidal attempt, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, what a surprise they hug each other Series: Part 9 of Bad Things Happen Bingo Summary:

Bruce hasn't been sure where he stands in sons' lives after returning from the timestream, but a case of pneumonia provides an excuse to sort some things out.

Full story under cut

Bruce only meant to drop by briefly, hand off some papers, and be on his way. He wasn’t exactly sure what made him pause in front of the display case.

Well. That wasn’t exactly true. He did know. How could he not know by the way his eyes gravitated towards the hood on the back of the Robin suit’s cape. By the way his heart sank at the sight of it.

He still thought it unnecessary – a distraction in the fight – it could easily obscure vision. He would have never allowed his partners to wear one.

And that was the trouble, wasn’t it? Damian wasn’t his partner, the hood a visual reminder. Dick knew Damian’s abilities better than anyone, knew whether or not the hood was appropriate. He trusted Dick’s judgment – no – had to rely on it when it came to his youngest.

He’d considered stepping in at first, but it made sense to keep Dick and Damian as partners – they worked well together, provided results. Damian rarely got along with anyone else… and that was changing under Dick’s mentorship. Gotham was doing well, crime rates were dropping, and public approval had risen significantly. By all accounts, Batman and Robin were doing an excellent job.

It was an odd feeling, to be surpassed by your son, at wearing the mantle you created.

It was an odd feeling, to be surpassed by your son, in being loved by your youngest. To have missed out on so much, to have been dead a year and come back with things running (mostly) smoothly, as if the world hadn’t really needed him anyways. He couldn’t quite tell if it was humbling or humiliating when he heard whispers from officers of the new Batman being better than the old one.

But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was-

The walls of the bunker shook slightly, the floor trembling beneath his feet as the roar of an engine reverberated through the entrance tunnel. Swept out of his thoughts, he swiftly placed the stack of documents by the main computer and doubled back to his car.

He didn’t plan on being here long, wasn’t keen on talking – he had the computer back at the manor running narrowing down possible combinations for one of Riddler’s games – he’d already lingered much to long.

With that thought, he opened the door his of car, giving a brief nod of acknowledgement as Dick entered on his bike. Dick didn’t wave back – he always waved when he saw him – unless something was wrong – or maybe he hadn’t seen him – that was the logical answer –

But Bruce still found himself frozen in place, his pulse increasing, heart leaping into his throat as Dick got closer, his mind scrutinizing every detail he could see – the way Dick was hunched over too much – his posture was normally perfect, his left arm was wrapped around his middle – Bruce slammed his car door shut, jogging forward as Dick parked.

“What’s wrong?” He reached up, pulling off the damn cowl, revealing tired watery, reddish eyes. Dick blinked, frowning, his eyes adjusting to the light.

“Nothing.” He pulled back, refusing Bruce’s arm, dismounting the bike himself. The cape obscured whatever Dick was putting pressure on. Dick strode forward, his shoulder squared as he started up the stairs. He felt oddly small looking up at the stark silhouette – and he had to wonder – was this how his kids felt when staring up at his back?

And then Dick succumbed to a nasty coughing fit halfway up the stairs. Bruce bolted up beside him, offering an arm again, swiftly finding blood trickling from a deep gash on his side. Instinctively he tore off a piece of his shirt, pressing it to the wound. Dick looked at him judgmentally, speaking through coughs.

“If you – waited like -” He doubled over again, pausing their trip up the stairs. He put up a hand, as Bruce moved in to simply carry him up the rest of the way. “- m’ fine.” Dick sucked in a shallow breath and they continued on. “ – didn’t have to ruin your shirt. We have gauze.” He mumbled as they reached the top.

Bruce looked down at his shirt, then back at Dick, feeling like a dumbass, but nonetheless glad he hadn’t left him behind. “You would have fallen down the stairs.” He noted, before moving onto the more pressing matter. “Were you gassed? Poisoned? Dick, repo-”

“I’m-” Dick cut him off, only for Damian to drop from the rafters, dramatically landing a few feet away.

“He’s been ill.” He crossed his arms in annoyance, pouting in his pajama pants, wearing an oversized shirt he’d sworn he’d gotten for Dick years ago. “And insisted on benching me even though I am perfectly capable of-”

“Damian, you’re supposed to be in-” Dick stumbled over his own feet – another alarm going off in his mind – Dick was normally graceful. Bruce was tired of this – he made eye contact with Damian, nodding towards their medical closet.

“Grab gauze and a suturing kit.” He commanded, Damian scurrying off ahead. He slipped his free hand beneath Dick’s knees, scooping him up – rushing him the rest of the way to the table as Dick succumbed to a hacking fit. Memories from years ago bubbled in the back of his mind, from a time Dick was smaller, in a brightly colored costume, fading quickly in his arms after a run in with Harvey Dent.

He couldn’t call for Alfred this time. He was halfway across the world assisting Kate, spending well deserved time with his daughter.

Biting back the panic, he did his best to gently set him down, but Dick was heavier than he used to be, and he was a bit older himself. Bruce cringed as Dick hit the table with a bit of a thud – though it seemed Dick hardly noticed – but Damian hissed in disapproval.

“Sorry.” Dick murmured, once he caught his breath, sounding far away – as if standing on the other end of a tunnel. Bruce couldn’t tell if he was spacing out, or if Dick was simply quiet, either way, he ignored the interruption, holding out a hand.

Damian materialized beside him placing the kit in his hands before pressing clean gauze to Dick’s. Bruce yanked off the costume in tandem. Neither spoke as they worked like a well-oiled machine, Bruce sewing up the wound as Damian kept Dick still. He could fix this – it wasn’t like before – the cut wasn’t too bad, he had the skills – he just needed to focus.

Bruce fought to keep his hands steady, as he tied off the end. Dick stared aimlessly at the ceiling, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, rolling down the side of his face and dripping in his eyes. Damian kept him propped upright, from atop the other side of the table.

Dick paused to cough for a moment, Damian pounding his back with furious eyes, as if he was attacking the congestion himself. “Don’t tear the stiches.” Bruce chided, Damian glared, but lightened his taps. Bruce held Dick by the shoulders until he was ready to continue.

Moments later, the bandage was applied, and Bruce scanned for more injuries.

“That was it, I’m fine.” Dick muttered, though Bruce couldn’t tear his eyes away – he could feel the blood on his hands – drying at the edges, slimy under his latex gloves. Dick was too pale, too warm to the touch, too- “Quit looking at me like I died.” He grumbled exasperatedly, his voice painfully horse. The tone snapped Bruce out of his inspection. “I’m fine.”

He turned to Damian – because at least one of his kids was being honest. “How long has he been sick?” He turned, grabbing a thermometer off a shelf.

“Since last Monday.” He replied, critically scanning Dick as well, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Dick scoffed at the remark, looking offended. “Liar, that was just allergies.” He reached up, moving to ruffle Damian’s hair – unsuccessful, Damian easily dodging the attempt.

“Obviously, it was more than just allergies, seeing as you’re still under the weather.” He rolled his eyes. “Likely something viral, the flu perhaps?”

Bruce gave Dick a pointed look, cocking an eyebrow. “You know better than to go out while sick.” That’s how people get killed, how Dick could have gotten killed, how he would have been left to bleed out on the floor if he hadn’t been there, how –

“I thought I’d turned the corner.” Dick’s tone was cool, but his eyes were laser focused on him – he had this way of looking at people, as if he was staring into your soul. “I felt fine when I left.”

“He was doing better earlier.” Damian begrudgingly mentioned, taking some small amount of pity on his brother. He gazed up quizzically, matching Dick’s expression. Bruce shifted his gaze between the two sets of searching eyes.

A moment passed in silence. The weight in his hand finally reminding him of his purpose, he stuck the ear thermometer in Dick’s ear.

“I can do the rest myself.” Dick noted, placing a hand atop the thermometer as well – which Bruce subsequently ignored.

“Mmm.” He noted, checking the temperature. “Almost hundred and three. And you felt fine enough to go out?” He asked, dropping notes of disbelief into his voice. Dick gazed back at him, unamused.

“I meant what I said. It was only supposed be a stakeout anyways.” Irritation was clear, despite his scratchy tone. Damian hoped off the table behind him. “You’ve gone out way worse than this!” Dick broke into raspy coughs, Bruce catching his shoulders.

“I’m going to prepare tea.” Damian muttered, dashing up the stairs, leaving him alone with the sound of Dick’s wheezing.

“Any other symptoms?” Bruce grabbed a stethoscope, snapping a pulse oximeter to Dick’s index finger. “Be honest.” He reminded, Dick avoiding his gaze.

“Bruce, you don’t seriously think I would have gone out if-”

“I know you know your limits.” He acknowledged. He also knew his family (and occasionally himself) liked pretending the limits weren’t there. He slipped the stethoscope against Dick’s chest, listening to his lungs. “Breath in.” Something crackled deep in his lungs. “Chest x-ray.” Bruce noted.

“Isn’t that a bit extreme?” If Bruce closed his eyes, he could pretend it was 9-year-old Dick, complaining about having to be swabbed for strep throat.

“If I’m right, no.” Dick unhappily mimicked his voice. Bruce cocked an eyebrow, giving him an unamused stare. “A list of symptoms would help.”

“I hate it when you’re like this – just tell me what you think.” Dick slid off the table. Bruce caught him by the shoulders, they were burning up. Dick shivered, shaking underneath his hands.

“I think you already know.” He slipped an arm under his son’s shoulders, slowly walking him towards the machine. “Shortness of breath, coughing, wheezing, fever, chills, recently viral illness. Chest pain likely.”

Dick groaned. “It’s just a cold.” Bruce pulled a blanket a nearby shelf, wrapping it around his shoulders. “I’ll be fine with a good night’s sleep. You don’t have to do this; I’ll go to Leslie’s tomorrow.”

“Dick.” He sighed exasperatedly. They could do the x-ray here or drive to the clinic at 2am.

“Don’t, Dick, me. You have stuff to do, thanks for stitching me up but I can handle myself, I thought you were supposed to-”

“Richard.” Dick paused for a moment. Bruce took it as an opportunity to half carry him the rest of the way to the machine. “I’ll take a culture when this is done and send it to Leslie. I don’t mind.”

Dick hesitated before responding. “Fine.”

A few aspirin, couple of tests, and a trip to Leslie’s later, Bruce found himself walking in through the front door of the penthouse, antibiotics in hand. He nearly tripped over Damian’s sneakers, scattered carelessly in the little mud room. Kicking of his own shoes, he moved the little sneakers to the shoe rack, struck for a moment by how small they were.

Making his way into the living room, he found Dick, half asleep on the caramel-colored couch. He clicked off the television, turning off some nature show, Dick’s attention pivoting to him.

“You came back?” He whispered, almost too quiet to hear, but surprise evident all the same – eyes widening, jaw dropping, before he caught himself and returned to a blank expression. Bruce nodded, passing him the medication before settling in a nearby armchair. Two empty mugs sat on the low table, rich aroma still lingering in the air (ginger if his nose was right), though Damian was nowhere to be seen.

His eyes lingered on the mugs – they were handmade, one in the Batman color scheme, the other matching the Robin costume. He’d taken a sculpting class with Dick years ago; they’d made similar ones together. Dick’s was likely in pieces, lost under the rubble of his old apartment, and Tim accidentally knocked his off a table years ago. He tore his eyes away – it made since for Dick to carry on the tradition with his Robin, he just… regretted never making another.

He watched as Dick fumbled with the container, his heart sinking at the uncoordinated attempts to twist off the lid. Bruce swiped it back, popping off the lid, and passing him a pill along with a bottle of water.

The surprise in Dick’s voice weighed on his mind – surely – Dick didn’t expect for him to leave him alone in such a state? Yes – he knew Dick was an adult – knew he could take care of himself – but Alfred wasn’t around if he took a turn for the worse, he couldn’t just leave that for Damian. Worry crept into the pit of his stomach, Alfred had been gone weeks, were there more illnesses Dick hadn’t been reporting? More injuries? Why? Because he didn’t think he would care? He didn’t want to burden Damian? He was too busy to-

“Bruce, quit brooding, I was just surprised you got back so fast.” Dick spoke slowly in carefully low tones, scooting back into a sitting position on the further end of the couch. Curling into a ball, he wrapped the blanket he’d grabbed early tighter, shivering under it. Internally, Bruce cringed at the sight before turning back to his thoughts.

“Hmm.” That wasn’t what Dick said, or why he was surprised. “You didn’t think I was coming back.” It came out more statement than question. Dick coughed lightly, avoiding a response. “I’d like to know why.”

Dick shrugged, too timed to be nonchalant. “You have casework to do.” He wouldn’t meet his gaze, busying himself pulling the blanket even tighter around his shoulders. “I’m an adult. I can handle being sick.”

“I know.” He hummed disbelievingly, his worry growing – Dick had a knack for lying – he really wasn’t feeling well if he was this easy to read. “You know I wouldn’t-”

“Don’t.” Dick warned, cutting him off with a glare. “If Alfred was here, you’d already be gone.” There was an edge of bitterness to his voice, a knowing look in his eyes.

“I…” <em>Haven’t visited in weeks because I feel strange around you and Damian,</em> his mind supplied helpfully.

“I know it hurts to see your…” Dick paused for a moment, catching his breath. “Family like this. Just don’t try to deny it, you disappear every time I get hurt.” <em>Or kick you me out,</em> went unsaid.

Bruce threw an arm over his eyes, taking a moment to lean back against the recliner. For so long, he’d been focused on just getting back to the present, getting back to his kids. But… coming back meant facing up to the times he’d been less than a good father… or older brother… whatever he and Dick had all those years ago.

He took a moment, examining a few memories, his behavior after the Two-Face case, the time Dick was shot in the shoulder, even how he’d acted the first few weeks Dick was at the manor – relentlessly pursuing justice rather than spend time with his ward. It was no secret to most he had regrets. He’d changed since then – never acted like that with Jason. Didn’t disappear after Tim’s father died. He’d changed, but he never –

“I’m sorry.” They stared at each other, speaking in tandem. Bruce’s jaw dropped as Dick continued.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your standards, I know I disappointed you tonight, I shouldn’t have brought the past up, you don’t have to stay-” His words came out hurriedly, rushed and pained.

“Dick.” Bruce hadn’t thought his heart could sink any lower, but somehow, it dropped to the bottom of his gut, his throat closing uncomfortably.

“I’m doing my best, I thought I’d be fine, I just really needed information tonight and I couldn’t go out tomorrow because I need to help Tim, and now I’m going to have to call in Steph, and Barbara’s gonna be upset, and Tim’ll be mad, and it’s Damian’s first week of school, I took him out of homeschool because you wanted him to go to Gotham Academy, but he hates it and he won’t go to bed on time, and I have a board meeting in the morning I’m not prepared for-”

“Richard.” Bruce tried to interrupt, but Dick was rambling, his hands shaking as he pressed one to his forehead, his voice growing frantic. Bruce moved to sit next to the mugs.

“-I know I’m letting you down, you came back to a mess and I’m still trying to get everything settled, and Jason’s still loose god knows where, and I can’t take three steps off this couch without feeling like I’m about to collapse and now I’m taking up your time too for nothing because I’m fine and I can handle this and you should just go back to your case because it’s more important and-”

“Richard John Grayson.” He squeezed Dick’s shoulder, waiting for him to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.” Dick bit his lip, face flushed. Bruce froze, not sure where to go from here. He had more to say, but for some reason, he couldn’t speak. Dick blinked, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, and for a moment Bruce could pretend he was eight years old again – and just like that, he knew what to do.

Leaning forward, he wrapped Dick in a hug, gently patting his back (hopefully breaking some mucus loose). Alarm bells rang in his mind – Dick was warm – too warm, but he ignored them, just holding his son steady as his ragged breath went smooth.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stick around before, I know better now, and I’ll stay this time if you’ll let me.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, releasing Dick back against a stack of pillows. He dropped his elbows to his knees, letting his head drop into his hands. He could fix this.

“You’ve done better than I could have imagined, given the circumstances. Better than I did when I was your age.” He ran Dick’s words through his mind again. “I’ll stay until you’re well. I’ll talk to Tim and Barbara. I’ll figure out where Jason went. I’ll talk to Damian about school, though you might have better luck than me on that one-”

“You’re kidding me he listened to you perfectly earlier.” Dick muttered, tucking his chin between his knees.

“-only because we had a shared goal, and that goal was assisting you.” Bruce continued. “I’ll call Lucius, get him to reduce your hours. I-we can fix this. Just…” his voice caught in his throat. “Get well soon.” Dick, well he was right, it was painful to see him so worn out. It seemed… unnatural, seeing him sick, though he’d seen him ill plenty of times before.

Dick glanced at him, then dropped his gaze, fidgeting with the corner of a little throw blanket. “I’m being pathetic. Bruce. I’m sorry, I can handle this.” He looked back up, determination swimming in his bleary blue eyes. “You don’t need to stay.”

Bruce sighed exasperatedly. “I know. Do you remember the time I got mono? Back when you were a kid?” Dick thought for a moment before nodding.

“Alfred wouldn’t let you leave your room. We played Uno.” He noted.

“And Go-Fish, checkers, chess, and every other game we own. And Clark and Lucius covered for me for two months. And I hated staying put but playing games with you made time fly.” He leaned forward, slipping an arm around Dick, pulling him up again, and heading towards his room. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I would have cut the recovery time in half if I didn’t escape out the window two weeks in. Dick… you aren’t letting me down if you let me cover for you, consider it payback.”

Dick gasped dramatically, only to let out a few weak coughs. “You didn’t! …Actually, I already knew. Alfred and I picked you up after you got your ass kicked, remember?” He shook his head. “I know it’s stupid to go out sick, I saw you do it and I hated it I wouldn’t do that to Damian or you.” He paused, leaving them in uncomfortable silence. “Uh. No offense. Just… you believe me, right? I wouldn’t have gone out if I thought I wouldn’t come back.”

Bruce paused, giving Dick a long look. Memories of Superman’s panicked call coming over his comms, Dick rushing into nuclear wastelands without protection. They’d come a long way since then, Dick had come a long way in the year he’d been gone. “I believe you.”

Dick let out a long breath as they turned into his bedroom. “Okay.” Bruce propped pillows as Dick faceplanted into bed.

“Sleep well.” He murmured, throwing the comforter over him. Dick turned, shooting him a half smile, not making any moves towards the nice stack of pillows. He clicked on a humidifier on his way towards the door, shutting off the lights as he left. “I’m proud of you.”

As he closed the door, leaving it open just a crack, he heard a tired voice whisper “Thanks.”

[fanartfunart]

ghost hunting!!

(for the prompt thing)

Anonymous said: for the prompt thing, maybe some sleepy cuddles for intruality?

@fightmedragonwitch​ said: Logan hesitantly asking for group cuddles from everyone?

I do love when combining suggestions/prompts when they fit so nicely all together. Thanks for the prompts!

Here’s that Kid Ghost AU again.

AO3 link

Relationships: Platonic Intruality & Creativitwins, background platonic DLAMPR

Summery: Roman is a child ghost and Remus’s best friend. Logan doesn’t believe in ghosts and it turns into a challenge to prove it.

Warnings: Brief gross statements from Remus, but overall fairly tame and fluffy. One mention of animal abuse (that didn’t actually happen.)

-

Remus marched into school confident, and even slightly excited. He marched out of the school grounds, glaring at the ground and grumbling to himself.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” Logan had said, his round, rosy face full of confidence, chin poised like a stuck-up prince or something. Which really was supposed to be a Roman thing.

Remus, who had been showcasing the art Roman had drawn for him, pouted. “Yes they are!”

“Well then prove it.” Logan demanded, crossing his arms behind his back. He thought it made him look smart. Really it just made him jut his chest out more. “If you can show me tangible evidence of ghosts, I’ll con-confe-confer-uh ....I’ll believe you.”

“Well- well fine!”

“Oooo, are you guys going ghost hunting?” Janus had asked, smiling in a way that made Remus want to think he was just saying that to get someone riled up. So obviously, it did.

Patton gasped, eyes big and wide, “You’re not going to hurt the ghosts, right? They have feelings too!”

Logan, to his credit, did not immediately tell Patton ghosts did not exist. “Of course we wouldn’t hurt them. If we did find evidence of ghost activity we would study them in their natural habitat and record our findings. That’s what scientists do.” He adjusted his glasses and his shirt’s collar. “Also they don’t exist.”

“Yes, they do!” Remus shrieked and did immediately go to pull Logan’s hair.

Virgil, who had been watching the interaction from a small distance sighed. Because this meant it was going to be a long day. Roman, who was busy being a ghost back home, had no clue what havoc Remus was bringing home to him. Which also meant a long day was approaching.

Remus was a little lost as to when this “ghost hunting” plan became a slumber party. Logan had arrived first. Yet, despite the fact that Roman literally opened the door for him, it was not proof apparently. Roman just shrugged when Remus tried to glare him into being visible to the other boy.

Logan set up a collection of toys in the living room, explaining as he did so. Logan called it a spirit box and an emp reader. Roman was pretty sure it was just an old radio and a thermostat. Remus was absolutely certain they were from a playset like the mini kitchen his cousin had.

Patton and Janus showed up together. Janus had a stuffed snake curled around his neck and on top of his head, covering half of his face, and Patton had a stuffed cat with its arms tied around his neck turning the toy into a cape. Patton was holding two sleeping bags and Janus had one.

Remus tilted his head. “What’s the second cocoon for Patterpillar?”

“The ghost! I don’t want him to be left out!”

Roman cooed and looked at Remus “That’s so cute! He got me a sleeping bag! Which one’s mine?”

“Can you even use it?” Remus asked.

Roman shrugged.

Patton meanwhile, yelled into the air. “The blue one is mine! It has Stitch on it. You can have the red one, Mr. Ghost! It’s got Minnie and Micky Mouse on it!”

“You don’t have to yell, he’s right there,” Remus said, gesturing at Roman.

Janus just laughed, dumping his stuff on Patton, and wandered off to give himself a tour of the house.

Virgil arrived last, hands in his pockets as he stood in the threshold. “Can I come in?”

“Of course Grump-a Vamps!” Remus announced loudly.

Both Logan and Virgil protested he was “not a vampire.” Although Logan yelled it, Virgil sighed it.

“You’re next on my ‘convince Logan’ list,” Remus said, grinning.

Virgil spared a glance at Roman, who was glaring at him from next to where Patton and Logan were setting up a blanket fort, and then at Remus. “Good luck.”

After a dinner of pizza, Logan, adjusting his pajama’s hoodie, announced, “I think we can begin our ‘Ghost hunt’ now.”

“I found one! Right behind you!” Remus announced, pointing at Roman.

Logan shrieked and turned to look next to him where Remus was pointing, clutching his emp reader/ thermostat/ toy. “OH, don’t do that!” Logan cried, turning his glare towards Remus. Roman went wide-eyed and glared at Remus as well.

“Damn, he almost believed me.”

“I think his screeching scared me more than I scared him,” Roman whined “Are we sure we want him to be able to see me?”

Logan scoffed. “Let’s get started, hopefully, we’ll find something before bedtime."

Logan collected his other toy/ radio/ spirit box and turned to Remus. "So, where is your ghost's favorite spot?"

"Right next to the TV and the window in the living room." Remus said, drowning out Roman's answer of not having a favorite spot. Not that anyone but Remus heard it anyway.

Remus grinned at Roman and motioned for the group to follow him.

"If we get killed by an angry ghost do you think we would become ghosts too?" Janus asked with a hum. Patton smacked him in the arm.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Remus lives here. If the hyp-hypothe- If the ghost was dangerous we would know."

Virgil made a skeptical hum. Smirking, he muttered, "Says the kid who screamed over him being next to him."

Roman laughed and floated above Remus's head. "Honestly if anyone here is dangerous I think it’s you, Remus.”

"Actually the ghost is super dangerous." Remus said, grinning directly at Roman. "He turned my cat into a hat. Guts and all!"

Patton gasped in horror. Janus laughed. Which earned Janus another shove.

Roman shook his head "I hate you. You're terrible."

"Thank you!"

When they reached the living room, Remus gestured to Roman's favorite spot to stand around in. Roman rolled his eyes. "Still not my favorite spot."

Logan checked it over with the emp reader, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Then set up his spirit box right next to the spot, and turned it on. "Ok… If you are here, please use this to try and communicate with us."

"Yeah! I'm gonna loose if you don't use the dumb box" Remus yelled to the air, pretending he didn't see Roman glaring at him.

"Did this turn into a bet when I wasn’t looking?” Roman grumbled.

Remus shrugged “I have no idea. But I already owe him an ice cream sandwich.”

“Ugh, fine." Roman wandered over to the spirit box and crouched in front of it. "What do I do?" 

Remus shrugged. 

"Ask him." Roman sighed, waving an intangible hand through Logan’s head. Logan shivered when he did so. 

"Ugh fine. What's Roman supposed to do to make it work? Sing Bloody Mary and summon his mom?"

"Hey!" Roman gasped, placing a hand on his chest.

"Uh…." Logan glanced at the box. "I always guessed it was sorta like possessing it or something."

"Ew." Roman grumbled and placed a hand through the box, earning them a crackle over the static of the box. 

"Did you hear that?" Patton asked, hugging Virgil's arm. 

"It was just a crackle." Logan said, shaking his head.

"Oh this should be funny." Roman grinned and for a moment, disappeared. Instead, the box spoke between crackles of static. "Logan…"

Logan shrieked at the mention of his name through the box.

"Don't… tell the group...to split up… Horror movie tips… 101."

Remus cackled as Roman reappeared from the box. Virgil snorted. Looking at the box with wide eyes, Logan seemed frozen for a moment. He looked up and glanced around at everyone else.

Patton gave the box a disapproving look, which made Roman shrink, grumbling to himself that at least Remus found it funny.

"You...guys heard that, right?" Logan asked.

Janus hummed, grinning lightly. "Good advice. We don't have Scooby-Doo. It wouldn't work right without him."

Logan turned to the box, bouncing in place, "Can you do it again?" 

Roman shook his head. "Made me dizzy, I get why ghosts don't do that often."

"He said it made him dizzy." Remus parroted, shrugging.

He adjusted his glasses with a frown. "Ok…" Logan fumbled to get out a notebook from his bag and scribbled a note inside. "Scientifically recorded. I do want another test though.” Logan glanced around the building. “Uh..... Can he move something?"

A plastic cup fell in the kitchen with a clatter. Logan and Janus both jumped, clinging to Virgil. Logan laughed awkwardly and pushed himself away.

"Sorry! I wanted some juice." Patton called, tilting his head out from the kitchen.

Roman laughed and shook his head. "Your friends are jumpy. You sure you want to prove ghosts are real?"

"Yesss" Remus pleaded "Please show them something undeniable. Please!"

Roman made a face, brows furrowed, "I don't know if I can. I haven't been able to prove anything to your parents."

"Just try. And if not then we have at least scared Logan out of his pants!"

"Hey! ….I'm not even wearing pants. It's a onesie."

Roman sighed and floated over to the table and Remus directed the group to follow him. Roman hummed softly for a moment, and picked up a crayon. His form flickered and the crayon fell to the ground.

Logan however, was transfixed on the fallen crayon. "Okay proof enough for me. Congra-congre-congrata- er, you win, Remus."

Remus punched a fist in the air with a whoop. "Win for team Ghost! Ha!"

"I never doubted you for a moment," Janus drawled, earning himself a glare from Virgil. 

Logan folded his arms behind his back and rolled his eyes. 

"Did you hear that Ro- uh…. Where'd Roman go?" Remus frowned at the spot Roman had last hovered in, and then looked around the room. "Roman?" 

His friends, to their credit, looked around as well, despite not being able to see the ghost either way. 

Remus frowned at the lack of response and glanced at the group of his more alive friends (and Virgil).

"Maybe he went to get something?" Patton suggested, juice in hand. 

Remus frowned and shook his head. "I… He probably used too much energy with the box." Remus ran to the stairwell and called again "Roman?!"

"Do you want to try and find him?" Virgil asked, voice surprisingly soft.

Remus nodded. The group of them searched the house, Remus, Janus and Patton searching one half of the house and Virgil and Logan in the other.

They had to give up after Remus's mom told them it was bedtime. The sky well past dark, wind howling outside the window. They settled in a small group on Remus's bedroom floor. The trees swaying and creaking outside.

Dispite the room being filled with the hushed whispers of children, Patton begin to snore almost immediately. Soon, it seemed everyone was soon asleep except Remus. The door creaked slowly open. Logan sat up abruptly, staring wide-eyed at the door. Remus wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep it seemed. Remus sat up as well, finding a very small looking Roman. He barely even glowed. Remus smiled anyway.

Logan looked at Remus. "Was that him?"

"Yeah." 

Roman floated over next to Remus and gave him a misty feeling hug. Like a bubble of heavy fog sitting on your shoulder. 

"Is he okay?" Logan whispered, getting out of his sleeping bag and crawling over to Remus.

Roman nodded and Remus copied the motion. 

Logan leaned back. "That's good. Sorry if I pressured you into doing something you didn't want to…"

Roman tilted his head and smiled. "Don't worry about it, Science Lo-g." Remus parroted him.

A wood creaked ominously overhead, making Logan yelp. Virgil shot right up, hitting Janus in the face. Janus gasped and sat up as well, glaring at Virgil.

"What was that for?"

"Why are you all uppppp," Patton groggily whined.

Remus giggled. "Roman's back and Logan’s a big scaredy-cat."

Logan hugged himself, frowning. "No I'm not."

"Boo!" Janus exclaimed, abruptly leaning forward towards Logan. Logan shrieked and shoved Janus away. Janus cackled.

"Jan that was rude," Patton said, shoving his brother's arm. Janus just rolled his eyes with a giggle.

"You Ok L?" Virgil asked, tilting his head. 

Logan nodded. "Uh….yeah…"

Remus shook his head "You're all dorks. I remember why Ghosts are better than People now. Ghosts are cool."

Roman brightened, giggling. Remus's alive (really, does Virgil count?) friends giggled too.

“We’re cool... and dorky.” Janus said, sticking his tongue out at Remus. “About half and half.”

Remus giggled, “Eh, the ghost is dorky too, so I think it’s even.”

The group dissolved into further giggles, the following quiet eased with a gentle air of happiness.

The winds outsides still billowed ominously. The wood groaning.

Logan glanced around the old house, and took in a big breath. "Can I… sleep in the middle?"

"Of course!" Patton said, despite being closer to the outside of the group.

Janus shrugged and Virgil nodded. Logan crawled in between Virgil and Janus's spots, right in the middle and let out a heavy sigh.

A quiet that fell over the group. "You were really scared, huh?" Remus whispered, leaning over Virgil. Virgil grunted at being squished.

Logan looked somewhat sheepish and rubbed his eyes. "...Uh… A little. But not of Roman…. Mostly." Logan shrugged.

Virgil shifted, opening one eye. "Wanna hug? Hugs usually help me."

Logan was quiet for a moment. "Yes please."

Remus immediately glued himself to Logan’s side, and Virgil followed soon after. Logan giggled, and after a moment, Janus and Patton joined the cuddle pile.

Roman looking somewhat curious, floated over to Logan and placed a hand on his shoulder. Logan glanced at the spot. "What's that?"

"Roman" Remus replied.

Logan let out a soft "Oh."

"Unless he screams, I'm gonna hug him too now." Roman informed Remus. His misty heavy-airiness fell over the group hug, and only solidified the sleepy air. 

Logan smiled. "Remind me to put this in the notebook." He muttered.

Remus laughed. "Go to sleep, ghost hunter."

A round of good nights circled the room and it wasn't long until Patton was snoring next to the wheeze of the wind in the trees outside and the creak of the happily haunted house.

[javajunkieao3]

Being Alive: Beth/Benny Fanfic

It’s six months after Russia and nearly that long since her last drink.  All those months ago, sitting across Borgov with her face tilted up to the paneled ceiling, she learned that she didn't need alcohol to quiet her mind.  The chess board still appeared, the pieces moving with a grace that Beth still hadn’t witnessed elsewhere.  But, it didn't mean she didn’t want the drink, and Beth had bore witness to a casual alcoholic for enough years to understand that both the need and want weren’t pre-requisites to addiction.  Because while she didn’t need a drink, she also knew that once she started she wouldn’t be able to stop.

She’s at the US Open Chess Championship in Chicago and she keeps walking past the bar, her pacing taking her steps closer to the wooden counter with each pass.  It was all because of damn Gorsky.  He was new.  An up and comer out of Bloomington, Indiana and he almost beat her.  She faced off against the giants in Russia, and yet somehow, this Midwest nobody threw her.  Dimly, somewhere between her fourth and fifth pass in front of the bar, she reminds herself that she had once been that nobody, but she quickly dismisses the thought.

At her sixth pass, she almost gives in, her mouth already anticipating the heady combination of the gin and vermouth tempered by a refined pearl onion (Mrs. Wheatley had been right about that part), but then a young girl recognizes her and asks for her autograph.  The girl holds out an old copy of Life magazine with Beth’s face on the cover.  The magazine was about two years old, and Beth thinks about how this girl must have seen the Open was taking place in the city and made a special trip just for her to sign the magazine.  Her face burns with shame as she recalls the one to three Gibsons she had been on her way to consume, and she makes a point to strike up a conversation with the young girl, trying to replace her guilt with a good deed.

When she's finished, she heads back up to her room, but she can already picture the room service menu and she can feel her finger moving the heavy dial of the rotary phone, and so she makes a detour, ending up at his room.  She doesn't know if he’ll be there, but he answers after one knock.  He’s shirtless, his striped pajama pants slung low on his hips, but it’s nothing she hasn't seen before.

“Hi Benny.”

“Beth Harmon, to what do I owe this honor?”

The tone of his voice reminds her of the distance between them.  While he helped her in Russia, she was well aware there was still damage between them to be repaired, but all the calls she meant to make didn’t happen, and then her phone didn’t ring, either.  She hasn’t seen him since before Russia.

“Can I come in?”

“If you’re here to take more of my money with speed chess, you’ll be disappointed.”

Attempting levity, she says, “Does that mean you got better, or we’re not playing?”

He smiles slightly and steps back to let her in.  Behind her, he flips open a suitcase and she turns around just as he’s pulling a worn grey t-shirt over his head.  “So, what are you doing here?”

She doesn’t answer, suddenly feeling foolish for going to him at all, and he says, “It’s Gorsky, isn’t it?”

“I still beat him,” she returns sharply.

“Yeah, well, you almost didn’t.”

She bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood and sits on the edge of the bed.  

“Do you want something to drink?”  Benny asks, and while she knows he doesn't mean alcohol, she says, “I want a Gibson.  I might as well, right?  You warned me that if I kept drinking like I was, I’d end up washed up by my twenties.  But, it looks like that may be happening, anyway.”

“Beth, you’re not washed up.”

“I didn’t see the move, Benny.”  

She had gone through various phases while analyzing the game previously.  Anger.  Blame.  But now, she is just tired.  She considers excusing herself to go back to her room, but if she were being honest with herself, she doesn’t trust herself alone.

“Sometimes you don’t, but then you’ll see it the next game.  Just because you’re good doesn’t mean you’re infallible.”

"I shouldn’t be this thrown by it.  I beat Luchenko, Borgov.  I beat you.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he returns drily.

She rubs at her eyes irritably and when she opens them again, he’s walked toward her and he sits on the bed next to her.  There is still a sizable distance between them, but she takes comfort in the way the mattress dips.  It makes her feel less alone.

“You are not washed up,” Benny says for the second time that night.  “But, you’re going to have games you lose.  It doesn’t make you any less of a player.”  Beth scoffs at that and he continues with, “Did beating Borgov make you think any less of him?”  

“No,” she admits.  She looks over at him, “And it didn’t make me think any less of you.  Although, you could improve your endgame.”

Benny smiles slightly.  “I’m going to choose to ignore that last part.”

Beth looks down at her shoes.  “I came here because I wanted a drink.”

Benny is quiet for a moment.  “Do you still want one?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately.  “But it’ll pass.”  She looks over at him, her nerves pulled tight, and asks, “Can I-”

“Yes,” he says.  “You can stay here.  As long as you need.”

They order room service - burgers with extra pickles for him and cheese for her - and she tells him she’ll be going back to her room soon, but that doesn't happen.  Instead, they play a few games of chess and then she stretches out on the bed, ignoring his offer for her to change into one of his oversized shirts to sleep in, and he settles in the bed next to her.  He shuts off the light, and she turns onto her back.  The darkness emboldens her to say what she had never been brave enough to tell him in the light.

“I didn't choose drinking over you.”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, and when he does his voice is gravelly.  “It sure seemed like you did.”

“I chose being numb.”

“Is that supposed to make it better?”

“No,” she says honestly.  “But, it’s the truth.”  Staring up at the blank ceiling she says, “When my mother killed herself, she told me to close my eyes.  I think, in  some way, I’ve been trying to do that ever since.”

She hears the rustle of his hair against the pillow as he turns his head to look at her.  “Shit, Beth-”

“But, I don’t want to be numb anymore.  I don’t want to close my eyes.”  She turns her face toward him.  In the pitch darkness of the room, she can just make out the outline of his face, but his eyes gleam bright.  

“I’m sorry that I hurt you,” she says.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t go with you to Russia.”

“You were still there when I needed you,” Beth returns, recalling the immense sense of relief when she heard his voice on the phone.  

“I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to beat the Russians.”

His voice is light and teasing, like it used to be, and she doesn’t know what to say next, but then he reaches forward and smooths her hair away from her face.  Without hesitation, she reaches up and grabs his hand, keeping it pressed against her cheek.  She doesn’t know if she leans in first, or him, but they meet in the middle, the kiss gentle and unhurried.  Her body yearns for more, but then he pulls away, pressing a kiss on her forehead as he says, “We should get some sleep.  We both have games at seven tomorrow.”

She knows that he’s right, because he’s an addiction in his own way, and if they started something she knew they would get little sleep. She turns on her side, her mind wonderfully blank as he blanketed her body with his.  She falls asleep within minutes.

The next morning, the twins catch Beth leaving Benny’s room to change for the day, and one of them does a low whistle while Beth jauntily responds with her middle finger.  She changes into one of her favorite dresses, a checkered number with a high neckline that dipped to a lower “v” in the back, and she proceeds to win all of her games, even achieving a new personal record for time.  Benny does the same, and then it’s just the two of them, facing off at the top table.  There’s a break before and he presses her against a wall in a back hallway, his mouth against hers.

“If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work,” she says, fingers caught up in his hair.

“Don’t worry, I know better than that.”

Fifteen minutes later, they are seated opposite each other, attention finely tuned to the action on the board.  Benny has improved since Beth last played him, but then again, so has she.  Both of them nearly run out their clocks, but in the end, it is Benny who extends his hand across the board.  She knows how much he hates to lose, but there is not a trace of ill will on his face when she shakes his hand.  Instead, there is admiration, respect, and something else that she is hesitant to name.

Afterwards, they go directly to her room, and they don’t even make it to fully undressed before she takes him in, breathing a sigh of relief against his neck.  When they are finished, his fingers languidly run along her side and he says, “You should come to New York.”

“I can’t,” she says, looking up at him.  “I’m coaching at one of the high schools and they have a major tournament next week” 

“Okay,” he says.  “Then what if I come to Kentucky?”

While this isn’t exactly a surprise, it still thrills her to hear him say it.  “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Okay,” she says, trying to keep an impending wide grin at bay.  She runs her hand along his chest and Innocently says, “I think I have an air mattress in the closet.” 

[platypanthewriter]

Unless...? (Ch. 8)

Previous | Fic Masterlist

Steve Harrington wants to be best friends with Billy Hargrove.  He wants to marry him–as friends–so they’ll always be together, and he’s going crazy, trying not to be weird about it, and scare Billy off.  Also he’s in a band, and they run a bar.Billy’s buckling under an onslaught of friendly Harrington flirtation.  Also he’s just been hired as the new bartender. For Day 2 of Febuwhump, “I can’t take this anymore.”

In this chapter:  Billy's pretty drunk when he comes back to Steve's hotel room, and he wants to see Steve wear the thongs. 

Billy eventually hauled Steve back out of the bathroom—Steve was content to stand there forever, with Billy’s earnest, alcohol-redolent breath in his face, listening to him proclaim his undying affection—but Billy yanked his arm. “Come on,” he slurred. “Max’s gonna...give up on us.” Steve splashed some water on his hot face, and then trotted after his fiance.

“Did you just bone my brother on the bathroom counter,” Max asked crisply, not looking up from her menu as they approached the table.

“You know it,” Billy said, laughing, and squeezed Steve’s hand.

“Fuck no, that counter’s covered in like ten layers of old hand soap,” Steve said, making a face. “Billy deserves better than old hand soap.”

“Like the alley out back,” Billy muttered, dropping into the booth, and Steve sat too close, elbowing him.

“Like a honeymoon suite,” he countered, and got to hear Max and her brother groan, and watch Billy’s ears turn even redder.

“So I hear Steve has been proposing for like. Months,” she told Billy, who glared at Steve. “You never said a word.”

“He was letting me pine,” Steve said, grabbing the soju away as Billy poured more, and tossing it back.

“Yeah, no more for you,” Max said, grabbing the bottle, and filling her cup. “How come you were still dating that shithead, then?”

“Not enough brain cells,” Billy sighed, and Steve slid an arm around him, then pressed his luck, and a kiss to Billy’s temple, feeling it heat.

“We’re hoping our combined six brain cells are a little smarter,” Steve told Max, and she snorted a laugh—and then smiled a little softer, he thought, watching Billy as he leaned into Steve’s shoulder with a grumbly noise like a drunken bear.

“Thank you,” she mouthed, silently, and Steve flushed. “Be good to him or I’ll kill you,” she added, in a creepily sibilant whisper, and Billy mumbled inquiringly. Steve hugged his head, nodding back at her.

Steve had to half-heft Billy into his hotel room that night, full of barbequed meat and more liquor than was good for either of them, and then help him undress, sliding his hands down Billy’s ass and thighs to get his too-tight jeans off, and crouching between Billy’s knees to pull at his boots. Billy dropped back onto the mattress with a long sigh, and then Steve had to haul him back upright to tug at the buttons on his sleeves, and run his hands over the muscles of Billy’s shoulders to push the shirt off them. He kept pausing to look at Billy’s tattoos, or a couple times because the feel of Billy’s skin was distracting, warm, muscled, a little hairy on his arms and legs, and softer over his stomach and ass. Billy curled away from Steve’s hands on his abs.

“Quit it,” he mumbled. “You don’t care if I do my crunches, right, if I’m not...cut,” and Steve shook his head, running his knuckles over the soft curls that crept out of Billy’s pajama pants toward his bellybutton.

“Nah, you’re perfect,” he said honestly. “You’d be perfect if you turned into that blueberry from the Willy Wonka movie, y’know.”

“...s’weird you don’t give a shit,” Billy sighed, his whole body flushed with alcohol as he watched Steve’s knuckles stroke his side softly.

“If you’re too pretty, people are gonna keep following you home,” Steve told him. “And what if I just like, see you when I’m onstage, and I drop my guitar?”

Billy burst into cackling laughter, his eyes wide. “You think I’m pretty?” he asked breathlessly, and Steve snorted a laugh.

“I have eyes, man,” he told him, and Billy’s smile widened, lazy and delighted.

“You think I’m pretty,” he mumbled, still giggling.

“Of course I do,” Steve told him, reaching up to tuck Billy’s hair behind his ear, and cupping his warm, stubbly cheek to feel him smile. “You’d probably look way better in those thongs,” he sighed. “I look like a moron who forgot to wash his own underwear. Or like, those bastards at the laundromat, you know, that just steal whatever, and you’re like ‘what the hell did you want with one of every sock’.”

“Y-you put them on,” Billy choked out, pushing himself back upright to stare at Steve’s face, and Steve scrambled back, licking his lips. “You wore them?!”

“Uh,” Steve said, his cheeks heating. “I mean, just—just in case you were serious, I wanted it to fit.”

“...I wanna see,” Billy said, drunk and sincere, and Steve couldn’t believe those wide, hazy eyes were lying to him.

He grimaced. “Whatever you’re imagining, it’s probably gonna look more stupid than that.”

“It’s gonna be a religious experience,” Billy said, patting around the bed for his phone, and Steve groaned, rubbing his face.

“Why don’t you wear ‘em,” he tried, “—if you like the damn things so much.”

“You said,” Billy huffed, still slapping the bed for his phone, and pouting, so Steve sighed, grabbed Billy’s phone, slapped it into his outstretched hand, and dropped his pants. Billy made a noise like he’d swallowed a leaking helium balloon, and Steve heard the camera shutter noise.

“You send anybody that picture and I’ll—” break your face, was Steve’s first thought, but then he remembered Billy’s bruises. “—I’ll order pineapple and anchovies on every pizza for the next year.”

“...hurting yourself to hurt me,” Billy huffed.

“I can gag it down,” Steve told him triumphantly, and yanked his briefs off, to another strangled sound from Billy, and more shutter noises. “...I mean it, though, don’t send blackmail pictures to Robin.”

“...blackmail pictures,” Billy said weakly, as Steve set his jaw, closed his eyes, and pulled on the blue thong. His t-shirt partly covered it, thank god, he thought, because his dick was aware there was somebody on his bed even if Billy was a dude, and the friction of the satin was weird, so he had kind of the beginning of a hard-on. He sighed. Billy swallowed, his throat clicking like he needed something to drink. “...take the t-shirt off,” he whispered, and Steve stared back at him.

“Seriously?! You can see how it fits!”

“Come on,” Billy whispered, and Steve groaned, but yanked his t-shirt over his head to more shutter noises. He tried to ignore his stupid cock thinking fancy underwear meant anything on him, and stared past Billy at the ugly 80’s pink and grey motel art. “...you look like somebody’s pulling your teeth,” Billy said.

“...the hell you want,” Steve gritted out. “I look like an idiot.”

“Well, they got me to fucking...agree to marry you, right, you could look like it wasn’t the shittiest day of your life,” Billy said, glowering at his phone, and Steve sighed.

“Okay, what then? Should I like. Pose,” he asked, flexing half-heartedly, and Billy took a weird jerky breath.

“...you really...think you look bad in those,” he rasped out, and Steve snorted a laugh, frowning down.

“I’ve got elastic up my ass,” he said, squirming. “I’m not even sure how I thought they were sexy on women anymore, jesus.”

“You look like a centerfold,” Billy said hoarsely, and Steve—who’d spent nearly a year wondering whether he wanted to be around Billy or just be Billy—felt better instantly.

“...really?!” Steve asked, staring down at his untanned (compared to Billy’s) stomach, and his uninked arms. “...yeah, I’m hot, right?” he asked, laughing with relief. “I know I’m hot, huh, not everybody can look like you.” He twisted his body into a tits-and-ass superheroine pose, pursing his lips at Billy, who made a noise in his throat like he was dying. Steve snickered, and stuck his arm out and up to the side like he was Superman. “Truth, justice, and the American way,” he said, and Billy snorted a high-pitched laugh.

He’d half-covered his face, but he was still snapping pictures, and Steve couldn’t help wanting him to laugh harder, because Billy was cute, pink-cheeked with drink, giggling. Steve spread his arms, hearkening back to a long-ago role in the school production of My Fair Lady. “I have often slept/in this room before,” he began, throwing his arms wide, “—but the carpet always stayed beneath my feet before. All at once am IIIII/several stories hiiiiiigh/knowing I’m in the room where you aaaaare—” he sang, and Billy burst out laughing, letting himself fall backwards on the bed cackling, his hands over his face.

Steve climbed up on the bed again, sitting on Billy’s legs like they were five, and kept going. “AND OHHHHHH, THE TOWERING FEELING,” he belted out, “—JUST TO KNOOOOW/SOMEHOW YOU ARE NEAR—”

Billy shoved at him, laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and turning a little to bury his face in the pillows.

Steve beamed, taking a quick breath. “THE OHHHHVERPOWERING FEELING/THAT ANY SECOND YOU MAY SUDDENLY APPEAR—” he paused, because the neighbors were banging on the walls again, and put his hands on his hips.

“Oh my god,” Billy wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Stop, stop, before they throw us out, jesus christ you fucking loon.”

“Maybe they prefer Elton John,” Steve said thoughtfully, opening his mouth to try some of Your Song, and Billy tackled him to the bed, both hands over Steve’s mouth, which was suddenly kind of awkward, as Steve remembered he was wearing only a thong. He tried to sort of hum that he was disarmed and un-dangerous, but Billy glowered suspiciously, leaning harder to hold his hands over Steve’s mouth, his mouth still quirked as he shook a little with suppressed snickering.

Steve tried not to squirm. Billy’s pajama pants were soft and thin, and Steve could feel thigh muscles through them. Billy’s butt hovered right over his dick, barely bound by the scrap of satin and lace, and it was hard to think of anything but that couple of inches of space between Billy feeling safe as friends, and finding out Steve got idiotically turned on by people thinking he was funny and hot.

Billy was panting, still out of breath from laughing, his chest and abs flexing right before Steve’s eyes, so he closed them, feeling the heat spread over his face. “You gonna behave?” he hissed, and Steve considered shaking his head, so Billy would just...stay on top of him, maybe, maybe fell asleep there, while Steve spent an agonizing night trying not to squirm and Billy breathed contentedly into his neck.

He nodded, instead, and Billy pushed himself up to stretch.

“You’re insane,” he commented.

“Everybody serenades fiances,” Steve said indignantly. “I could read you poetry instead.”

“Holy fuck, no,” Billy hissed, reaching to slap a hand over Steve’s face again, and Steve kissed his hand. He snatched it back like Steve had burned him, swinging his leg off Steve to curl his whole body into the pillows, groaning. “Why are you like this,” he sighed, still laughing.

“You love me,” Steve pointed out, biting his lip uncertainly, and Billy sighed again.

“Yeah.”

Steve dropped down next to him, his shoulder against Billy’s back, and imagined he and Billy in their suits. “We got a fitting tomorrow,” he said softly. “For the suits.”

“...yeah, I know,” Billy said, leaning back against him. “You gonna wear the blue thong? Something borrowed and everything?”

Steve laughed. “Oh. I was thinking white lace. Weddings. Y’know.”

“You...thought about it,” Billy mumbled.

“Dude, I’ve done nothing but think about it,” Steve told him, pushing himself up on his elbows. “I keep thinking you’re gonna say it was all a joke. Thongs, seriously? I’ll wear ‘em every damn day if it keeps you around, man.”

“...bro,” Billy said, laughing into his pillow with kind of a whine.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, grimacing. He swung his legs off the bed, and grabbed his jeans off the floor. “I’m gonna shower,” he told Billy, who was sounding sleepy, and saw what was probably a nod.

In the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror again, and felt less shitty about being a man in satin and lace, because really, people could just...wear things, he figured, it wasn’t like the fabric cared. Billy’d looked happy as he laughed, and Steve smiled at the thought, and flexed again in the mirror. He was half-tempted to get a little apron or something and make Billy laugh his ass off again.

His dick still hadn’t gotten the message that it wouldn’t be getting any action, and he tried to ignore it fully peeking over the top of the elastic, and the damp spot from his reaction to getting thrown down on a bed. It’d be actually and metaphorically hard to sleep next to Billy without taking care of it, though, and he let himself thumb over the tip, biting back a groan, and trying not to think anything weird about Billy’s weight on him, or the muscles of his forearms as he held Steve down by the face.

He reminded himself of Tommy shoving his hand away, and stalking out of his life, and tried to think about tits as he climbed in the shower, his shoulders hunched.

The feeling wasn’t really the same, he told himself—he knew what he was feeling, watching a woman squeeze into a dress, and thinking about peeling her out of it, but it’d never been clear, as he tried to dress up like Han Solo, what exactly he wanted—to kiss him, or be him, or just be...as cool as him, or maybe just to have a janky spaceship to share with his very best friend.

He peeled out of the thong, his cheeks burning, and stepped into the shower, soaping his hand up. It only took a few yanks before he came over his fingers, thinking annoyingly neither of Billy nor an anonymous woman’s mouth, but ofTommy, how he’d shoved Steve against the doorjamb, and said “Yeah, why shouldn’t I go over to Carol’s again? What you got that’s better than her, huh?”

Steve had been bewildered when Tommy started yanking at his pants, but also drunk, and horny from the porn. The woman onscreen was still panting and begging, her tits jiggling, and it was hot with the heat of an Indiana summer, but their beers were cold. The sound of distant frogs nearly drowned out the grunting on the screen. Tommy’s hands were hot and tight, and at nineteen it didn’t take much. Steve’d woken deep under the surface of a hangover, looking around at his limp, sticky cock half out of his pants, and taken a shower before he even remembered what had happened the night before.

Tommy’d never picked up his calls again.

It hadn’t even been his idea, Steve didn’t think, scrubbing at his hair as his brain went over the familiar ground—Tommy’d yanked at his jeans, while Steve stared like a drunk idiot. He tried to remember—again—whether he’d leaned in too far, or seemed too willing, and growled, sticking his head under the showerhead.

After he towelled off, he slid into bed behind Billy, and slid an arm around him. Billy snorted powerfully, smacking his lips, and rolled over to grapple Steve in closer, smacking a kiss to Steve’s jaw. “...love...babe,” he mumbled, nuzzling his head into Steve’s neck, and tossing a thigh over his legs.

Steve lay motionless, his heart pounding, staring at the ceiling.

In the morning, Billy insisted they couldn’t be fitted together, and see each other before the wedding. Then he drove home.

After the gig the next night, Steve drove home after him. He slowed as he passed Billy’s apartment, but it was four-fifteen in the morning, and he was pretty sure that was grounds for divorce.

He couldn’t stop grinning, and typing text drafts to Billy he didn’t send, and checking the time, so finally he just cleaned—he scrubbed the whole fridge, and pulled all the popsicles and discount steak out to defrost the freezer. If he’d been female, he thought, with kind of a shivery feeling in his stomach, he’d have eaten the popsicles when Billy was over—just sucked them down until he gave himself brain freeze, leaning his head back so Billy could see the muscles working in his cheeks and throat. Steve bit his lips together, sighing, and gripped the counter, wishing the stupid, useless image wasn’t stuck in his head.

The sheets smelled kinda stale, so he washed them, and put another load of laundry in, before checking the time again, seeing it was too early to take Billy any breakfast, and flopping face-first on the couch with a groan.

He awoke to his phone ringing, and answered in a grunted slur of syllables even he couldn’t identify. It was Joyce Byers’ voice, he registered, his brain feeling like its tires were spinning in mud.

“Billy’s sick,” she told him. “He sounds awful. He’s by himself.”

“Enh,” Steve said. “Grungh.”

“...I thought you might be on the road,” she said. “Weren’t you coming back today?”

“M’I’m,” Steve mumbled, and rolled half on his side to prop himself up. “M’here. Drove...las’night.”

“Sorry to wake you, sweetie,” she said, sounding suspiciously like she was laughing. “He’s just as impatient to see you, hon. That’s why I called. He was smiling all night. I had to pinch his pink cheeks.”

“...my pink cheeks,” Steve muttered indignantly, and she laughed again.

“Go take him some cold medicine, okay? Maybe something hot to eat?”

Steve slapped his face a few times to try and get his brain back online, blinked, and frowned worriedly. “Is—is he okay?”

“Sounds like a question for the man himself. We’ve got this, if you don’t want to come in tonight,” she said. “Tell him not to worry about anything, and feel better!”

“O-okay,” Steve said, nodding.

“Make him take a nap too, sweetie,” she said, and hung up. Steve blinked at his phone, and then called Billy.

He didn’t answer.

Steve grimaced, sat down to work on the chords for his nearly-finished song, couldn’t focus, and cleaned the garage. He tried again an hour later, and got no response, so he waited a couple more hours, did all the dishes, and scrubbed the stove.

He kept thinking about being sick, and he started to want soup, so he rummaged through his cupboards, and then pulled out the cookbook Joyce had helped him pick out when he first started living on his own. It had chicken soup in it, and Steve studied the ingredients carefully, jotting them down.

When he got to the part of the recipe that said ‘if using noodles, add them now,’ he stalled out, staring helplessly. He side-eyed the phone, and didn’t call again—Billy was probably asleep, he reminded himself, and there Steve was, waking him up every god damn hour.

He went out and bought sick-person groceries—the soup ingredients, obviously. Kleenex, benadryl, cough syrup, cough drops—and popsicles in case Billy had a sore throat. He got two whole boxes, resolutely not thinking about either of them actually eating them. He got a loaf of bread to slice for thick crunchy toast, and a carton of eggs to soft-boil. He threw some fluffy slippers by the register in, and then circled around again when he remembered tea.

When he knocked on Billy’s door, he kept it fairly quiet, and busied himself setting up a bag with all the things Billy might want—there was no point in giving a sick person the raw carrots for the chicken soup. Just as he was trying to remember whether Billy had a toaster oven, the door opened, and Billy stared down at him, wrapped in a blanket. His nose and lips were red, chapped and peeling.

“Sorry I woke you up, I’ll go away,” Steve told him, standing up, and grabbing both bags of groceries. “But I just need to ask, rice or noodles?”

“Why are you going away,” Billy croaked.

“I, um,” Steve stumbled, uncertain. “But uh, I’m—I’m making chicken soup, so: rice, or noodles?”

“...you’re making me soup?” Billy sighed, leaning against the door jamb. “...what are you doing out here?”

“I brought you stuff,” Steve told him, wincing. “Uh, is it—can I come in?” Billy backed away, tottering over to blow his nose, and Steve came in and kicked the door shut with his feet.

It was both humid and cold, and Steve grimaced into the dim light, watching Billy curl up on the corner of the couch in his jeans and the sweatshirt from their work. He was surrounded by used kleenex. “...I brought…” Steve trailed off, as Billy tried to tuck the blanket over his toes, and not pull it off his head. “...why’s it so cold in here?” he asked, and Billy’s head jerked up.

“It’s fucking cold, right?! I knew the fucking thermostat wasn’t working—” he stopped, sighing.

“Okay, no,” Steve announced. “You’re coming to my place. I promise not to make you sign any, like, prenuptials, come on.”

“...I’m sick,” Billy told him, petulantly, as Steve found his shoes.

“That would be why,” Steve told him, battling to get one arm out of the blanket at a time, and push Billy’s arms into his coat. “You can figure out the thermostat later—I’ll call and fight with them, if you want—but I can see my breath in here.”

Billy submitted to being bundled down the stairs in untied shoes, his coat on, and his blanket wrapped around it, and Steve loaded the groceries back in, handing Billy the box of tissues.

“So,” Steve asked, as he shifted into reverse. “Noodles or rice? I bought both. We could try both, I guess,” he said, considering, and then realized Billy was trying to cover a laugh, which turned into a racking cough. He sounded like the seals at the zoo.

“I don’t give a shit,” he said, finally, when he could talk.

All my Harringrove fic!

[unholyplumpprincess]

Long Distance Blues

Commission for someone who does not want to be tagged.

Summary: Reader/Mirage with Mirage out in the games and becoming champion and getting a nude as a ‘congrats’ and ending with video chat sex. Cause that’s long distance babey. First part to my other fic ‘Sleepyhead’.

(Older content)

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog but makes my day :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Reader/Mirage

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, PWP, Reader is gender neutral but has a vulva, mutual masturbation, sexting, video sex, long distance relationship, aaaaand toy usage!

Words: 2.3k

_______________

The Apex Games made it hard for someone like you, who was in a relationship with one of the infamous legends, to be able to really have alone time anytime soon with them. Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt was the apple of your eye, and many others who were fans. He was beautiful in the arena and in interviews, cocky and full of smiles and dimples and all over was a nice person to watch and interact with. He had his insecurities, he had his faults, and yet still smiled every day.

Yet, on days like this, you miss him more and more.

The season had started about a month or so ago, and he wouldn’t be coming back to you for another day or two, depending on how long they keep them for a meeting to schedule the next season and new rules. You severely missed waking up to him in the morning to find him cooking breakfast, or seeing him pull the blanket higher when you gently tried to shake him awake.

You missed the little things already like pushing his curls back from his face and kissing his forehead, or him blushing and laughing at you when you called him cute.

~Rest under the cut~

You sigh on the couch, fresh out of your shower and rolled onto your side. Your TV shows the live streams of the Apex games while you tune out the announcers. That is, until they’re beginning to announce the legends coming into the battle.

Mirage’s team consists of Bangalore and Wraith, and you already know he’s going to be acting a fool with the two love birds.  

He’s as big of a show off for the cameras as ever on the drop ship, winking before snapping his goggles into place and posing dramatically as Wraith shoves him playfully and Anita rolls her eyes big and hard dramatically. They all make a killer squad, that much you know. All of them together were deadly, but with all their skills combined?

You smile at the screen when the camera pans back to him and he blows a kiss at the camera before making a heart with his fingers and jumping off the ship with Bangalore and Wraith in tow. You sigh a bit like a newly in love teen, snuggling deeper into your pillows and hugging the hoodie around you. It was one of his, warm and soft with the Apex logo on the back.

The games aren’t really your thing. You just don’t get excited about the blood and warfare they commit against each other. You’re much more into it for the banter when the cameras can pick up the audio or tap into the comms that they all have. Of course, you watch it to support your partner as well, but honestly it’s quite funny to hear them all during the beginning portions of the matches. Or towards the middle where they’re all trying to find each other.

Down to ten squads and it changes camera focus a few times to how the teams are so split off in different areas. With the ring approaching, it makes for a smaller field, smushing them closer together. The camera pans to your partner’s squad, the squad kill count being ‘five’ on the screen as voices are picked up. “Yeah but can you really blame me?” Comes your partner’s voice, zooming in closer to him leaning back against a wall as Bangalore leans around the corner to check for any movement.

“When it comes to jokes,” Comes Wraith’s voice on the other end, the camera watching her lying prone on the rooftop and eye focused on her scope. “You really are terrible with them. Get better material.” Her lips quirking up as she finishes her playful statement.

The camera flicks back to Elliott, who holds a hand dramatically over his heart and points up at the ceiling with his gun approximately where she’s at. “Hey! Take that back! I’m funny- Bangalore?”

Only for him to get a look from the woman and a one shouldered shrug. “On a stage full of clowns you’d look right at home.”

“Yeah!” Elliott chimes in as they begin to move, only to pause, a funny look on his face as he processes her insult. “Hey!!!”

You smile big at the screen as it flips to the next set of legends. Leave it to your Elliott to be the crowd favorite in tense times like this.

--

They end up winning as champions. Anita takes the kill count to the highest of six people in grand total, Elliott comes close with five, but Wraith takes last with three kills under her belt but more hits and accuracy. All three of them look proud, with Elliott’s arms around his favorite ladies and beaming brightly before the broadcast is cut out and the next channel pulls up. You immediately turn off the TV, grabbing your phone to text him.

You debate on just letting him know he did a good job and what you found were highlights, but your texts from this morning catch your eye. Elliott mentioning how horny he was and how he missed you. You bite your bottom lip as you consider your options.

Tell him he did a good job and you’re going to bed, ooooor reward him with a job well done?

A sly smile catches your lips as you immediately begin to pose, lying out on the couch and catching the bottom of the hoodie between your teeth as you bring it up. Showing off your chest as you grab one of your breasts and pose the camera so it can view your body from lips down to about your knees. Showing off soft curves and the softness around your middle, your little short pajama shorts hiding everything else.

You send it with the caption ‘Good job out there, baby! Want a sneak peek before you come home? <3’

He must still be out at the ceremony because when he does check his phone, the message pops up as ‘read!’ but then nothing else. You laugh as you try to picture his face, startled and open as he scrambles to shut the message.

You take the time to take a few more with varying poses and angles, always making sure to make it blatantly obvious you were in his hoodie. Ending up migrating to the bedroom so you could get comfier on your shared bed- and take pictures using the mirrors spanning the closet doors.

You take one you’re really proud of. Stripping out of your shorts and underwear, dragging the hoodie’s bottom down to between your thighs as you sit on your knees and splay out your bare legs. You bite your bottom lip, peeking up and at the mirror as you take the picture.

As you hit send is when the rest start reading as read. He replies back to you, saying that he just made it to his room, lots of him going ‘holy shit’ and then soon enough, you got a picture back.

It’s of him, lying on his bed with a hand pulling his sweatpants down to show the dark curls between his thighs and a tent in his pants. He captions it ‘Look how hard you’ve gotten me’ with a crying emoji and you can’t help laughing a bit but eyeing him up.

He looked so good with the warm light of the lamp illuminating his warm flesh. His shirt is pulled up just enough to show off his mid-riff and you can see the bit of a wet spot on the front of his pants juuuuust enough. He was always so sensitive, seemed to be even now without your touch he was already so willing and wanting.

After a few more heated exchanges is when you finally turn on your computer and pull up the video chat. Calling him and watching him immediately pick up on his own laptop. Elliott’s curls are a mess, his sweatpants are tugged down to mid-thigh and his hand is around his cock as he strokes languidly. Watching your eyes follow his hand as he laughs softly, “Hey there yourself.”

You, who was lying on your side, lower half off camera but one arm disappeared below the screen to show you were obviously touching yourself. You hum instead at him, smiling idly and bringing your hand up to make a show of licking your fingers off just to hear him hiss.

“Fuck- babe. Look at you. Come on, spread your legs, let me see.” He all but whines at you and you almost raise a brow. Taking control? That wasn’t normally his way of things. But, Elliott was also riding the high of being champion. You’ll indulge him.

For now.

You push back the laptop to show off your whole body, watching as his eyes greedily drink you in and his hand squeezes a bit harder at the base of his cock. Elliott was putting on quite a show as you slide up onto your knees. Letting your body chest down be seen as you spread your thighs open slowly, letting him get a good look at how wet you were. Glistening and flushed as you use two fingers to spread open your cunt to show him even more of you.

“Shit,” He hisses out, eyes hungrier than ever as you watch his tongue flick out over his lips. You just know he wants to taste you, you know damn well what that mouth can do. Your clit jerks at the motion and he all but whines at you. “I can’t wait to be home.”

You make a show of sliding two of your fingers down, catching your clit in the crook of them and rubbing until you’re perked and ready. Soon lowering and curling two fingers in yourself, your other hand grabbing at your breast and toying with your nipple just to watch his eyes flutter. But, before he can come up with another cocky thing, tell you what to do, you coo at him, “What a good boy. Do you like watching me?”

Just those few words ‘good boy’, that makes his entire facial features change. Elliott goes from hungry predator to flustered immediately, cheeks and ears red as his head falls back briefly to stroke himself a little faster. With the upper hand now on your side, you coo again to him.

“Don’t you want to watch me, baby boy?” You murmur softly, worried it doesn’t catch on the mic at first until his head near immediately zips back up to watch you. His hand is stuttering on his cock, as if he doesn’t want to cum too early as he squeezes at the base. His cock is shiny from lube, you assume, or saliva. Flushed and hard and bobbing back against his abdomen when he lets go to adjust his laptop a bit.

“Fuck yourself? Please?” Elliott all but sobs for you as you tease your own cunt with your fingers. You eye the toy you’d set on the bed beside you anyway, a rabbit vibrator you dearly loved. You think about putting on a strap on too, stroking it like he is his cock and telling him how you’d fuck him raw if he was here.

You’ll let him have this much.

When you go off screen briefly, you can hear him whine your name. But, you’re back quick enough, crawling back onto your knees and leaning back to give him a better angle. You use your own slick to lube up the head of the pink vibrator, carefully easing it into you with a bit of a huff from yourself at the tight fit. But, once snugly inside, you crank it up halfway and press the rabbit’s ears just right to frame your clit.

From there, it’s watching each other. With his hand moving in sync to how you thrust the toy inside of you. It didn’t matter if you sped up or slowed down, he was right in beat with you. No matter how hard he shook when you slowed down just to grind on your toy and moan lowly for him.

Eventually you can’t watch him, having to lie down on your back as you thrust the toy into you. Covering your mouth and tossing your head back to muffle noises. You hear him beside you, moaning and whining for you like the good boy he is. You hear him murmur about how beautiful you are, how he couldn’t wait to taste you again.  

You cry out as you cum, shaking and the hand covering your mouth now grabbing at your own hair. You must look a mess, despite thrusting the toy still readily into your throbbing, twitching cunt. You can hear his breath quickening, hear him whine, “I want to fuck you s-so bad- badly- want to cum all over your fu- fucki- fucking face-”

He’s a stuttering, shaky mess when you peek over. Just to see his head thrown back and biting into his fist as his cock beautifully jerks and twitches in his grasp. Streaking white ribbons across his abdomen and the bottom of his shirt that reaches up too high. Elliott’s flushed, red in the cheeks and his hand stopping its stroking, loosening his fist as his eyes, glassy and wet turn to look at you.

You smile at him, lying on your side with your cheeks equally flushed. “Just a few more days, baby.” You promise him.

Tiredly, he nods back, laughing softly before groaning. “Ugh, I need a shower- you headed to bed?”

Sleepily, you offer a ‘mmhm’ as your eyes get heavy. Just in time to hear him say that he loves you as the world goes dark.

You’ll deal with your cum soaked toy in the morning.

[terracottaalchemist]

i love a lot of those prompts but what if you did 44 with Davekat 🥺🥺👉👈

Your wish is my command!

You're So Annoying

Pairing: Davekat

Prompt: 44: "I see you smiling...come on, laugh!"

Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and you can't believe that this is happening to you. Twice. Not only did you already spend three of your adolescent years on a meteor, hurling towards the boss fight of a lifetime, but here you are, a grown man, traveling through space again. And you have to admit, it is just as boring as you remember it being.

You look over your shoulder to see your beloved Karkat reading one of his raunchy romance novels. He gets so into them, you can't help but chuckle. And like the good matesprit/kismesis/ boyfriend you are, you decide to go fuck with him.

Fuck. You pause at the word. No, you mean bother him, not fuck him. Fuck with him. fuck.

You regain focus. His ears flick to pick up the sound of your socked feet padding across the bedroom, right to where he lays comfortably in his pile.

"Mind if I join you," you ask sweetly.

"Mmrrg, just don't move too much," he says without looking up.

You take that as the warm welcome it is and flop down, making sure to knock the book with your elbow a bit.

"Watch it!"

"Sorry dude." You bite down a grin, wiggle up to him, and toss your arm over his shoulders. Damn, you miss being taller than him, but not really. It's just a bit of a stretch, that's all. Karkat glances at you. You smile as big and obnoxiously as you can. He just chuckles and goes back to his book.

After a few minutes of you trying to read along, he jerks upright. Without a word, he grabs your wrist, pulls it down, and leans back. Your arm curls softly around his side now, and you tug him closer so it's more like a half-spoon. Hell yeah, you could get down with this.

Or not. Despite the affection, he's still ignoring you. Oh well, you try to keep yourself busy.

"Dave, stop trying to hum your shitty slam poetry. You're doing it directly into my ear, which, may I remind you, is hundreds of times more sensitive than yours."

"Dave, for fucks sake, beatboxing is just as bad!"

"Oh my- Dave I will make you sleep on the floor! I'm trying to read, just shut the bulge scraping fuck up!"

"Alright alright," you say. "I'm sorry." You wrap both arms around him, tucking your nose into his hair. He huffs, but he leans back into you. Hm...this is no good. Sure, you want to annoy him, but not if he's just going to not annoy you back! You feel his core tense under your hands as his eyebrows pinch, nearing the end of his chapter. He's so cute when he's reading.

And the clouds part to make way for your genius mind. Your brilliance is astounding. Why didn't you think of it earlier? You have a plan.

You slowly tuck your hands under the hem of his sweater and slide up to place them on his cute stomach. So cute. Karkat hums in shy approval. You wait patiently, rubbing small circles into his purring chest, until you can't wait any longer.

With an evil grin, you dig your fingers into his ribs, right below his sensitive grubscars.

"Da-AHA!" He yelps. His back arches forward, stretching his ribs out for you even more, before slamming back into your chest. He curls his limbs in like an armadillo, but his head stays thrown back, choking down laughter. You tease his soft sides, poking and fluttering your fingers across every inch. Karkat nearly bites his lip off, refusing to give you the satisfaction of getting his reaction.

"I see you smiling...come on, laugh!" You wrap around him even tighter, ticking up and down his stomach like you were born to do it.

"F- Fuuaahahaha! Fuck y-ouuhuhuhhmhmhm!" He tries to turn around and smack you, but he's trapped in your lap. Or, at least you think so. He's too ticklish to escape, plus you know he likes it.

"Dahahave, I'm waA- I'm waaharning yOUHU!" So loud. He squirms left, right, forward and back, trying to escape your grasp without loosing his page. He still won't pay attention to you? Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. With all the courage you can muster, you slam your hands into Karkat's armpits.

Or, at least you try.

See, before you could even switch tickle spots, Karkat throws his book to the floor, drags you out of his pile, and pins you to the floor by the wrists of your shirt. The troll strength in his gorgeous hands and arms holds you down, combined with his flustered, red face, makes your heart bounce. God, he's so beautiful when he's mad.

"Dave...fucking...Strider...." You wait for him to say more, but it doesn't look like he's going to, for once. With a deep, sexy growl, he tears the sleeves clean off your arms and carves his claws down the centre of your shirt. Karkat yanks the fabric from underneath you and throws it away.

"Aw man, I loved that one! You owe me a new shirt, babe."

"Don't you fucking babe me! I'll kill you!"

"Kinky," you say, as if you can't dig your own grave any faster. "Wanna let me up now? I won't tickle you anymore, let's just cuddle." You smile.

Karkat doesn't smile. He sneers. Suddenly, you feel very nervous about being under your very strong, very angry matesprit/kismesis/human boyfriend, in nothing but your pajama pants. With anime-villian red eyes and anime-villian shark teeth, you begin to realize the gravity of your situation.

"W..wait, Karkat. Um, I didn't- I," you stutter uselessly. Your hands shoot down to stop the claws raking up your sides, but he's just so strong. There's no stopping him, and you both know it. You whine, urging yourself to stay still. If you don't move, he won't see you. Right?

"You didn't what, Dave? Didn't think this through?" You close your eyes, but it just makes the sensations worse!

"Ah, haha- no! No no babe come on please I was just messing I didn't really mean it plus you like it I don't-"

"I sure as hell don't like it when I'm trying to read!" With that, he digs his fingers into your ribs the same way you did to his. Only this time, you howl. You twist and flail your arms, unsure how to fight back or escape. God it tickles so bad, it's torture.

"Nohoohohoo! No- naaaaahaha!" You squeal as he runs his terrifying teeth across your stomach, occasionally peeking his tongue out too join in. Suddenly, your entire body jolts as his hands drift down to squeeze at your sides. Your own hands are free to push weakly at his assault, as you gasp and squeal with every touch. A hot blush creeps up your neck.

"Who's laughing now, fucker? You are," Karkat teases, still nibbling your soft middle. Your laugh jumps up in pitch at his cruel words.

"Plehe- Hahahaha! P-plehehease!" You grab his wrists with all your strength, and he outright growls at you. His hands slide down to your worst spot, digging his thumbs in your hips with expert accuracy.

"AAAAHAHAHA! KAA- KAHARKAHA!" Screaming with laughter, you can't even beg for mercy. You nerves burst like fireworks as your body squirms further into Karkat's touch without your permission. You want to curl up, run away, but your body quivers uselessly at every touch.

"Shhh, don't attract any of the others," Karkat warns. Fortunately, Karkat is much to considerate to let that happen: his cute ears twist towards the door every few seconds, checking for footsteps. Unfortunately, that also means no one is coming to save you. He switches to scribbles and scratches all over your hips and waistline.

"Shihihihiiitt!"

"What's wrong, Dave?

"Aaaahahaha, I give I give i giAH! HAhaha-"

"You begging already?"

"Yes! Yes yehehehahahahh..ahaha..." You gasp for air. Karkat slowly stops. Giggles still pour out from the sensations, and your flinch from the touch of your own hands as you sooth them over your skin.

Karkat admires you with dreamy eyes. He moves his legs back so he can lay on top of you, lips inches from your own. You lean up to kiss him. His lips are soft, fitting perfectly with yours, making everything ok. Tucking your hands under his sweater again, you reach around to hold his lower back.

Another idea pops into your impulsive head. You would only have one chance to get it right, otherwise Karkat would just take the upperhand back again. And if you were to fail....

You grin. Against your better judgement, you pick a fight with your lovely kismesis. You wrap your legs around Karkat's waist as tight as you can, hold him with one arm, and tickle all over his ribs.

He barks, curling aways to protect his side. You fail to get past his arm once, twice, and it's too late. Your hands are glued to your sides between handsome thighs. God, you're so gay.

"Really, Dave? You must really want me to wreck you, huh."

"Aaaaa," you whine. Your face burns. "Don't...don't just, say it!"

"Say what?"

"You know..."

"I don't. Tell me."

You shiver. "No!"

"Say. It. Right now, or I won't tickle you. I'll go right back to my book-"

"No no nonono ok fine you win!" You glance at your shades perched on the nightstand, yearning for their protection under Karkat's gaze.

"Still not what I want to hear," he smirks, running his tongue over his teeth.

"Baaaaabe."

"One," he says.

"What?" You're confused.

"Two."

One, two...Oh god. He's counting!

"Thre-"

"Wait!! Wait wait wait! Ok. Um, so, I-" Your throat dries up, chest heavy. Karkat just watches you patiently, soaking up every detail of your face. "I like it when you, um. when you... when you tickle me..and I want..um, you, to.. I want you t- to...tickle, me. more," you babble. Karkat does not look very impressed. "Um. please?"

He taps his chin, tightening his legs around you again. You wiggle, hot with embarrassment. "I think you can do a little better than that."

"Nooooo!" This isn't fair. You open your mouth to protest, but you're distracted by his sudden hands on your chest. You can feel the edges of his claws, careful not to dig into your delicate, human skin.

"I'm waiting," Karkat says, pretending to be bored. He still may leave though.

"Sorry, ok. Um, please, Karkles." You take a deep breath. "P-please tickle me, babe. I need it."

His eyes widen, so you urge yourself to keep going: "I want you to..to tickle me until I can't breathe. I- I love it. Come on, Karkat. Please, please, please..."

You feel his body tense. His ears tilt down, turning a brighter shade of red to match both your faces. He just stares.

"Sorr-" His hand covers your mouth, cutting you off. He looks at you through his bangs, that look in his eyes that you didn't even know you had been craving.

"Just remember, you brought this on yourself."

You don't even have time to nod. His hands are all over you, making you scream loud enough for everyone onboard the damn ship to hear. As boring as space travel may be, you're glad that this time you have Karkat to keep you busy.

"I lohohove youuuu!"

"Oh I love too, Dave."

I hope this meets your expectations @edgy-and-extra !!

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Organization XIII - Domestic Headcanons

Suggested by: Anon. This is a long one!

Xemnas - Part 1

It’s difficult, living with Xemnas.  There’s really no other way to put it.  He’s a strong, easily annoyed man who doesn’t deal well with bullshit.  You either say what you need to say and do what you need to do or you’ll end up wasting his time.  The fact that he even wanted you to move into his room to be with him means more than you can ever explain in words.  The trust in that very statement??? You never thought that you would actually get to that point, but you know that it means that he holds you of some value.

He does seem a little soft around you in private, especially when he’ll stroke his fingers along your cheek or kiss your forehead in the morning as he gets out of bed and thinks you’re still asleep. He’s not one for public displays of affection so you have to take what you can get.

Surprisingly, you and Saix are the first ones he goes to for criticism. The others will usually praise Xemnas’ actions without questioning them - though they do complain when not in his earshot - and Xemnas knows that he can trust you to tell him the truth.

Even though the two of you have been together for a while... you can never be 100% sure how he feels about you.  He could act like the most doting boyfriend in the world but still make you feel as if he would sell you out for about 5 munny.  But at the same time, he could treat you like you’re simply just one of the other organization members and make you feel as though you’re the only person that matters in his world.

Xigbar

Knows you’re angry whenever you call him Xiggy.  Which is often.  Xigbar can be such a shithead sometimes, but there’s something about him that you just can’t stop loving.

Hates the word ‘boyfriend’ and refuses to be called such.  Hates it even more when you sweetly asked if he would prefer to be called ‘man-friend.’  Likes to be referred to as your ‘partner’ because you have ‘an equal partnership in your relationship.’  You both know that this is bullshit, obviously, but you like to humor him so you don’t argue.

He’s absolutely appalled at your lack of skill with shooting - his kind of weapon was never your forte and sharpshooting even less so - and attempts to teach you how to use his arrowguns.  It’s a good bonding experience, if anything, even though no progress is ever made because you’re absolutely terrible at long-range weaponry.

The Master of PDA whenever you least expect it.  You’ll be in the lab working with Vexen and Zexion and all of a sudden he’ll be there with his arms around you, dipping you into the air and laying a heart-stopping kiss on you.  Then he’ll just trot out the door like nothing happened and you’ll be left breathless while Zexion and Vexen look a combination of baffled and appalled.

Likes to lounge around on his days off and literally would not move for anything.  Someone could have spontaneously combusted and he’ll just be like, “sounds rough, let me know what happens.” Whines a lot, too, when he just wants you to go over and give him attention like he’s a lazy, stubborn cat.

Xaldin

After getting super close with Xaldin, you found out that he has a little hobby of carving things out of wood.  You’ll often find little wood shavings on the floor in the corner of the room or maybe sometimes in the places he patrols with Lexaeus, but it’s fine!!! Because usually these little statues or figurines or whatever are gifts for you and he leaves them on your bedside table for you to see when you wake up in the morning.

A great handyman!!! Somehow knows how to fix literally anything, whether that’s a busted pipe, electrical wiring, a broken piece of furniture, etc. You just tell him that something isn’t working correctly and the next day it will be working better than it ever had before.

Xaldin also has magic hands. He gives some pretty damn great massages.  When you’re stressed out or your back is hurting because of overworking yourself during the day, all you have to do is flop onto your bed on your stomach and you’ll hear him sigh and step up behind you to massage your shoulders.

He���s that guy who’s always willing to step up and kill any spiders or cockroaches that happen to cross your path.

His kisses are as powerful and intense as he is.  They always blow you away.  He’s such a big guy and you practically dwarf him, so whenever he puts your head in his hands and kisses you like you’re the only thing in his world, he always manages to take your breath away.

Vexen

One of the biggest things that surprised you about Vexen after your relationship first started getting serious was that he is a complete sucker for trashy day time television. I’m talking Keeping Up with the Kardashians, Judge Judy, Maury, etc.  You walked in on him shaking his head at the TV at some some antics on one of those reality shows and you both stared at each other for a while before he was like, “please don’t tell the others.” Sometimes you’ll watch with him just because you think it’s funny how angry he gets watching people on those shows be ridiculous.

Vexen is an infuriating man because he has literally no sleep schedule.  You never know when the man sleeps, but you’re sure he has to be sneaking naps sometime in the day because he always comes to bed long after you’re already asleep and the bedsheets have already gone cold by the time you wake up.

Surprisingly the worst person to grocery shop with.  Has to go down literally every aisle to make sure he isn’t forgetting something and usually ends up buying a bunch of stuff you don’t need.  It’s much easier if you just go to the store by yourself, but he usually insists on going with you anyway because he doesn’t want you to be alone.

Lexaeus

Gives the best hugs and cuddles. If you have a bad day you can literally go up to him, smash your face against his pecs, then fall completely asleep. He’ll ask you about your day and listen while you either complain or talk about how things went. Not much of a talker, but he’s happy to listen to you.  Will rub your back with his large, warm hand and it immediately lulls you to sleep.  He’s also oddly warm and squishy in the morning!!! Such a sweet, gigantic boy!

Usually ends up being the bigger spoon in bed because he’s so large, but he enjoys being the little spoon!!  He also loves it when you come up and hug him from behind when you happen to come across each other in the castle.  He gets awkward and blushy, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell you to stop.

You usually have to be the one who plans dates, if you happen to have time to go on one.  He doesn’t get the point of dates, really.  You can spend time together doing literally anything, so why do you have to go out of the castle and do ‘activities?’ Well, that’s probably because seeing him play mini-golf is hilarious.

Never really tells you when he’s upset and doesn’t really show it on his face, but you can tell when he’s sad or mad about something because he’ll follow you like a large, sad puppy.  It’s super cute, but you have to sit him down and physically ask, “Okay, what’s wrong, Lexaeus?” And then it takes more cajoling and coaxing to get him to actually talk to you.  You get that he’s closed off and it takes quite a long while before he feels comfortable enough that he goes out of his way to speak about his problems with you.

Lexaeus cooking breakfast after he’s just woken up, shirtless and in boxers and his hair all mussed? yes pls

Zexion

It takes a while for both of you to get into the rhythm of being in a relationship because you’re both so caught up with your day jobs.  You’ll often be pulling him out of the library or the lab in order to get some sleep, and he’ll more often than not be found bringing you a tray of food to eat as you help Saix sort out missions for the other members.  You’re both hopeless, so you tend to take care of each other.

Bubble baths together!  With lots of bubbles!!! and Bath bombs!!! And I’m not even talking about a sexual bath.  I’m talking making Zexion a beard out of bubbles and watching the glitter from the bath bombs stick to his skin, just listening to a little calming music and spending some peaceful time together.

The two of you are friends before you get together, so you know each other pretty well.  It gets to the point where you actually have this way of communicating with each other just through looks and stares, and it drives Vexen insane because he always thinks that the two of you are talking about him.  You are, obviously, but you don’t have to tell him that.

Book friends!  One of your favorite things is to get new book recommendations from each other in order to gain more knowledge and expand your tastes.

Saix - Part 1

Cooking! Dates!  Cooking meals with Saix is so much fun because it’s both romantic and educational.  It’s also awesome when you can just sit on the counter next to the stove with a big glance of wine and watch him hustle around the kitchen, chatting about nothing in particular as he cooks.  It’s so fun and he’s so cute and it’s..... so damn hot when he’s cooking in just pajama pants and no shirt???

The master of undercover, underrated cute fluffy moments of things that he does for you.  You’ll fall asleep at your desk in the lab or something and wake up in bed with a blanket over you.  You’ll forget to eat lunch, go to the bathroom, then find that there’s a sandwich and a bowl of fruit waiting for you.

He’s fairly neat and tidy already, but you both share an equal partnership when cleaning up any messes in your bedroom.  He makes lists showing who is responsible for which task and sometimes passive-aggressively posts it on the lamp on your bedside table.

Likes to read to you and you like to listen to his voice.  You’ll sit in bed with your eyes closed, hand on his chest and with his arm around your shoulder as he reads from a fictional novel, scientific journal, or historical text.  His voice is so soft and lilting that it can easily just make you fall asleep.  It’s always fun to discuss whatever he reads to you, like your own personal book club.

Axel

Axel is literally the weirdest person to be in a relationship with because he... doesn’t really act any different? He’s just more cuddly and playful but still treats you like you’re one of the guys.  Like he has a tendency to call you ‘dude’ a lot as a complete reflex.  One time he said, “Thanks, dude” right after sex then passed out and you were so annoyed that you made him sleep on the couch for four days.

Not a morning person whatsoever, but you tend to get up early.  You could drag him out of bed and sit him down in the kitchen while you make some coffee, but he’ll be so out of it.  You can call his name, snap your fingers in front of his face, and it’ll take him at least twenty seconds for his brain to stop buffering and actually give a response.

It’s okay though, because you’re absolutely useless at night time when you get super tired, so you always make him carry you to bed.  He’ll usually just toss you over his shoulder and may or may not sneak a grab at your ass as he takes you up to bed to sleep.

You will almost always fight over the TV remote.  You’ll ask politely for it, Axel won’t respond, then you’ll demand it, then Axel will go so far as stick the remote down his pants.  You shocked the hell out of him when you called his bluff, stuck your hands down his pants, and triumphantly pulled out the remote while smirking at his red face.

Demyx

Demyx is way more laid back than you are and it shows in literally everything he does. It takes a while for you to get used to someone who’s just so... chill all the time.  It’s a good balance though, because he can easily tell you when you’re worrying too much or overreacting about something, and you can tell him when he isn’t taking something seriously enough.

Likes to go on lots of dates! Movie dates, drive in theater dates, dates to mini golf, dates at the bowling alley, picnic dates, shopping dates, etc.  The list can go on forever and ever.  He likes having someone he can do fun stuff with because he always likes experiencing new things.  He’s constantly moving and doing stuff, so some of his favorite moments are when he can just slow down and do something new and interesting with you.

Has some messy habits that drive you absolutely insane.  You need order in your life and Demyx has literally none of that.  He’ll leave blankets and clothing and towels on the floor and he’ll toss his cloak and whatever is in his pockets everywhere and just - “for God’s sake, Demyx, just pick up after yourself!”

Neither of you can cook, but you are snack connoisseurs.  You’ll fight over who can eat the last of the Oreo’s or Chips Ahoy.  He’ll wake up at three in the morning to go and eat the last of the cookies, only to outrageously find out that you had eaten the last of them 2 hours before.

Luxord

Does a lot of the cleaning and such simply because he doesn’t like messes.  You won’t really ever have to lift a finger in that sense, because your bedroom is usually dusted and cleaned every few days.  Sometimes even does chores just in an attempt to keep himself busy.  Insists that he enjoys doing it, but you aren’t quite sure.

Likes to play cards with you because it’s something fun that you can do together to pass the time.  You’re actually getting pretty good at it and you’ve beaten him a handful of times, but he still bests you more often than not.  He teaches you a few tips and tricks that you can use against the other members on your annual poker night, but Luxord isn’t allowed to play because, well, he’s too good.

You’re usually on your feet more often than not, so you get achey during the day.  All you have to do is plop your bare feet in Luxord’s lap and you’ll probably end up getting a pretty great foot massage.

Marluxia

Can’t really cook anything more than a salad so you tend to make the meals for the two of you, but he’s always the one who supplies the fresh ingredients.  It’s always nice to have your own personal grocery store! He’s also pretty great at staying on top of dishes and washing clothes because you hate doing both of those things.

Flowers everywhere!  Flowers in your hair, dirt under your nails, bouquets on your bedside table, a rose or a tulip as a present when he brings you your morning coffee.  The whole room smells like a flower shop and it’s amazing. You like to spend time with him weeding the garden and pruning the flowers!

Sometimes walks around shirtless when he gets comfortable with you.  He doesn’t do it for any particular reason, but sometimes he just... neglects to put on a shirt? He doesn’t see the point of it if the two of you are just hanging out together by yourselves.

He lets you play with and braid his hair when you get stressed.  It gives you something to do with your hands and he enjoys the feeling of your hands running along his head.

Larxene

Larxene doesn’t like other people touching her while she sleeps - you think it might be that she knows she can’t protect herself when she’s knocked out - so it takes a while before the two of you can sleep in the same bed without one of you getting annoyed.

She’s such a badass, awesome girlfriend.  She’ll step on other people without hesitation just to make sure you’re okay and happy.  Hell, she could probably step on you and you would be like ‘thank you.’  She was super intimidating when the two of you first met because you’re pretty sure that she could snap your spine without any hesitation.

The best person to have on your side in a pinch because she’s always ready to square up even when she has no idea what’s going on.

Is not the kind of person to have casual relationships.  She’s either all in or all out. It’s a very serious and very awkward conversation that the two of you have to have at the beginning of your relationship, but it’s worth the awkwardness because it makes sure that there are no misunderstandings about where you stand.

Roxas

He’s a mess but he loves you a lot.  Likes to give lots of hugs and cuddles and cheek kisses whenever he can.

Roxas is basically your biggest fan.  You will literally never find someone who is more encouraging for everything that you do.  He always cheers for you, tells you that he has faith in you, and continuously insists that you can do anything that you set your mind to as long as you have a little courage.  He’s also willing to help you with whatever you need.  Basically, he’s just an all around nice guy.

He’s definitely someone who just enjoys a relaxing evening just sitting around and doing nothing, so there are a lot of times where you just sit in silence and nap together.

Picnic dates! Can’t cook for anything and burns everything he touches, but he’ll throw together some sandwiches or get someone else to cook something, wrap it up in a little basket, and bring you somewhere nice where you can eat.

Rock, Paper Scissors is your go to tactic when figuring out who is responsible for household chores, but usually you can just give him some wide Bambi eyes and he’ll break down and do all the chores anyway.

Xion

Wife! Material! Xion is literally the cutest wife in the world.

Slow dancing in the kitchen or in your bedroom or after you’re in pajamas and just out of the shower.  Cute dances that aren’t serious but they’re still fun and playful.  They’re one of your favorite things about being in a relationship with Xion.

They do yoga together sometimes, especially when they found out about couples yoga.  It’s fun and hilarious and is always good for when they need to relax or need a good laugh.  They originally discovered yoga as a suggestion from Vexen, and they tried it once and it just happened to stick.

You fight over who gets to be the little spoon.  She says the little spoon position makes her feel safe and loved and you’re like, “well yeah, that’s why I want to be the little spoon.” “No, I want to be the little spoon!”

[sindrafalcone]

Guilty Pleasure

Fandom: Reader x Optional Bias (male)

Synopsis: A guilty pleasure turns into a bit of fun...

Warnings: Fluff and a little suggestive

Author’s Note: Surprise! Since we have all been through hell this week, I decided to write a bit of fluff to hopefully make us smile a little. <3 There are no names mentioned, so you can feel free to imagine the male bias of your choice. I hope you enjoy! ~Sin

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. This story contains fictional representations of real people. None of the events are true. This is from an American standpoint, so some of the situations may not happen the same way they might in Korea. I make no money from the writing of this fictional work.

Masterlist

You sat on the cool, metal bench, looking out over the city from the balcony of your boyfriend's apartment. Your legs swung back and forth a little bit as you anxiously unwrapped the tasty treat in your hands. He'd had this particular bench made and installed just for you. It sat a few inches higher than a normal one... just enough for you to swing your feet back and forth while sitting on it, as he knew you liked to do. He made fun of you for it, but truth was that he enjoyed watching you do that just about as much as you did doing it.

With a small yell of triumph you finally managed to pry the plastic from your guilty pleasure. The slight breeze from being so high up brought a faint hint of chocolate to your nose and you grinned. You knew that you really shouldn't eat this whole candy bar all by yourself... but if you didn't start now while he was distracted with a phone call inside, then you knew from experience that he would steal at least half of it.

You bit into the rich confection, almost moaning in pleasure as the taste of chocolate flooded your mouth while you held it there and allowed it to melt on your tongue. He had brought you this bar when he returned from his last trip abroad. There were no nuts, no crisps or fancy fillings in this one... just pure chocolate. You chewed slightly, watching the sun set in front of you & the people milling about below.

You felt him before you saw him. Your man always had this... presence about him. When he walked into a room, all eyes turned to look & not just because he was an idol. He was just that charismatic. You fought the urge to turn towards him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of managing to break your concentration without even having said anything.

“What are you doing, ___________?” he asked & you could hear the consternation in his voice. He wasn't really mad at you for breaking into the candy bar without him, you knew. He just wanted to mess with you.

“Eating my chocolate.” you replied quietly after having swallowed the bit that had been in your mouth.

“Hmmmm...” he hummed, finally walking around to sit down next to you on the bench. “Is that so?”

You just nodded as you admired him... all smooth skin, messy hair and a playful twinkle in his eyes. Your boyfriend looked amazing when he was all dressed up, playing his role of a beloved star. But, damn if you didn't love him just a tiny bit more when he was like this instead... sitting in front of you in a pair of baggy pajama pants with a t-shirt & bare feet.

The silence stretched out between you as you waited for him to ask you for a bite. After that didn't happen, you finally turned away from him and looked back out over the Seoul skyline and took another bite for yourself.

He waited until the chocolate had melted a little bit in your mouth the way he knew you liked before speaking again. “I'm pretty sure you promised to share that with me when I gave it to you.” he scooted closer. “Are you going back on your word, jagi?”

He was so close to you now that his breath tickled your cheek as he spoke & it caused a little shiver to work it's way down your spine.

“I don't remember that conversation.” you teased, taking another bite.

The bar was a third of the way gone now and you both heard and felt him huff in frustration. But surprisingly, he said nothing. You waited until you were finished chewing before turning to face him again. And that was when it happened...

He swooped in for the kill, his lips touching yours before you had even managed to turn your head completely. It was a soft kiss, one that barely lingered before he broke away & licked his lips. Then he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding into your mouth as your lips moved against one another.

It felt like quite some time before he lifted his head away from yours with a smirk. You expected him to say something, but he didn't... simply motioning for you to take another bite from the candy bar. You did as he instructed, biting off yet another piece in confusion. You had thought he wanted you to share this with him. So why was he letting you eat it all?

He didn't even bother with the pretense of a smaller kiss this time. In fact, he barely even waited for you to start chewing before leaning in and kissing you again. You let out a startled gasp & then his tongue snuck into your mouth again.

When you broke apart the second time, you were both breathing heavily and smiling like lovesick idiots. You held up the chocolate in between you as a peace offering.

“Want a bite?” you asked him shakily.

He smirked as he shook his head.

“You don't want any of it?”

He leaned forward again & you thought he was going to kiss you, but instead he whispered into your ear with a tiny chuckle. “Oh, I want some of it alright, ________.” you shivered at the double meaning of his words. “But trust me... the chocolate tastes better this way.”

Your eyes widened as he pulled away from you, before you got a great idea of your own.

“If that's the case...” you told him, holding up the candy once again. “I want to try it too.”

He barked out a laugh of pure happiness & then leaned over to take a bite, his lips curving into a smile as he tried not to laugh while he chewed. As soon as you felt that the chocolate was dissipated in his mouth, you went in for a kiss of your own. This one was slow and languid as you tasted your boyfriend mixed with the sweetness of the candy bar.

This kiss lasted almost as long as the other two combined. As you moved away, there was no mistaking the warmth that was beginning to tingle its way through your lower half.

“You're right...” you whispered huskily, noticing the lust in his eyes as well. “It does taste better this way.”

The two of you finished the rest of the chocolate that way... each of you taking turns with taking a bite and then kissing the other. You didn't even notice that the sun had set until he stood up and took your hand to lead you back inside for more carnal activities.

[leisurelypanda]

Life is Good chapter 16

http://archiveofourown.org/works/11676360/chapters/27430023

Thanksgiving Day was, blessedly, uncomplicated. Beyond the actual cooking itself (Craig handled the turkeys), preparing for the family to arrive was actually quite easy. Andrew made Amanda’s favorite cherry pie without catching fire even once (they were all very impressed). The only tricky thing was what to do with Carl Jr. He was about 9 months old now and big enough to pose a threat to any food left on the counter top. They were trying to train that out of him, but as yet, they had not managed to eradicate the behavior entirely. The simplest solution would be to keep him in the basement and close the doors to the laundry room and the workout room so he couldn’t get into too much trouble.

“I think it’s cruel that Carl Jr. isn’t getting any turkey while the rest of us stuff our faces,” Amanda said after they had closed the door.

“You’re right,” Andrew replied. “It’s not fair. It’s also not fair to leave entire turkeys up where a puppy can get to and choke on a bone.”

“Fair point.” She said. “It’s for your own good, boy.”

“You’re not allowed to go back to college,” he said, hugging her. “I miss having you around too much.”

“Ugh, dad, feelings,” she replied. “As much as I’d love to stay and befriend our first dog, I got pictures to take, things to steal, establishments to break. You know, normal college stuff.”

“That’s my girl,” he said. “Now help me set up the tables.”

Smashley was the first to arrive, naturally. She came through the door with a store bought pumpkin pie, set it on the counter, and was immediately attacked by her twin daughters. Andrew immediately thought that it was going to be awkward seeing her again, especially since he was very seriously dating Craig now, but she just gave him one of her bear hugs that was half hug, half tackle, and half the reason for her unfortunate nickname.

“Andrew! Dude! How ya been, man?” she nearly shouted at him. “You never write, you don’t call, honestly I feel forgotten.”

“Hey Smashley, good to see you again,” he said with a bit of a nervous chuckle. They settled into a bit of a tense catching up session, her talking about her life and what she was up to these days, and him talking about what happened after they all graduated from college. Eventually she looped her arm around his.

“Can I talk to you? Alone?” she asked. Andrew looked at Craig who just smiled and waved them off.

“Sure, I guess,” he said. Please don’t kill me please don’t kill me please don’t kill me please don’t kill me.

They went outside, which at this point in Maine meant that it was cold as hell. Their breath made puffy clouds and there was a light layer of snow on the ground, good for stomping around in, but not good for making snowmen yet. It was peaceful, serene even. Across the way, Andrew could see Damien’s garden, which was beautiful and vibrant lie barren for the season. Damien had sold dozens of bouquets to the local flower shops before they all ended up dying. It was exactly the sort of relaxing atmosphere for too friends to catch up.

Or for a murder to happen, he thought to himself.

“Relax, champ, I’m not going to beat you up,” Smashley chided playfully. “I just want to know how it’s going between you two.”

Andrew swallowed, not yet reassured. “Things are great. Couldn’t be happier.”

“Good,” she said. “He certainly seems more relaxed than I’ve seen him in years. Every time he drops the girls off, he seems less like a lost puppy than he used to, though I doubt he’ll ever be okay with being away from them.”

“You should have seen him when he sent them to that sports camp over the summer,” he said. “A full week without them, he was inconsolable the first couple days.”

She threw her head back and laughed. “That sounds exactly like him. But seriously, ever since you two got together, he’s been better. Grounded.” She turned to face him fully, her face very serious. “Thank you.”

Andrew blinked. “For what?”

“For doing what I never could,” she replied. “I was actually afraid that he would run himself into the ground. I don’t know how you did it, but thank you.”

Andrew was honestly touched. He released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “You’re welcome,” he said. They hugged again, gentler this time, like two friends who had been apart for a long time reuniting. ****************************************************************************************************

Finally everyone had arrived and the meal was ready. Andrew was most worried about his daughter. Amanda had made friends with Craig’s mother, Brooke, who was now teaching her how to play poker over turkey and fixings. A lesson, which Andrew, Craig, his sister, and her husband all got roped into at the table in the living room, angled so that Brooke could simultaneously keep track of the football game. Together the two of them took all comers and soundly thumped them all. Fortunately they only played with poker chips and not actual money, otherwise Andrew would be completely broke.

“Good thing we aren’t playing strip poker, eh, boy?” Brooke teased. “You’d be buck ass nude and then I couldn’t teach your daughter a damn thing.”

“Ugh, Gramms!” Amanda protested. “Thanks for that image.”

“Leave him be, mom,” Craig said. “At least we know that he won’t blow our life savings.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied drinking her beer. “You’re just happy we weren’t playing strip poker cause by now you’d be all hot and bothered.”

Craig’s face turned bright red. “Mooom! I’d at least try to be decent around the family,” he protested.

“Why?” she asked downing what was left of her drink. “I don’t.” As if to emphasize her point, she rose up and slammed her drink down to the table. Her team was losing. “What the fuck was that play? What the fuck were you thinking, you half brained jackasses! I could play better with both hands tied behind my back!”

Andrew leaned over to Craig. “Bro, is your mom always like this at Thanksgiving?”

Craig nodded solemnly. “She thinks that nothing in the English language is off limits as long as it’s said well. Which usually comes out when football’s on.”

“How did I miss this when we were younger?”

“I think we were usually a mile high or drunk or in a food coma or a combination of the three,” he said. “I mean, you practically lived with us for a while, bro. It’s amazing that you didn’t know.”

Since the poker game was interrupted by poor football prospects, Amanda made her way over to their side of the table.

“Yo Pops, my new Grandma is the bomb,” she said. “Can we keep her?”

“I don’t think the freezer downstairs is big enough, Manda Panda” he joked. Craig snorted into his drink.

“Daaaaad, she can just sleep on the couch and we can get a rocking chair so she can sit out on the lawn and yell at rowdy teenagers, it’ll be fun!” she said.

“Much as I would like to keep my mother around as a constant corrupting influence on my young daughters,” Craig said, “I’m the youngest, so I’m the last in line to have to take care of her.”

His sister, Rose, heard that from the other end of the table. “What was that, little brother, I’m first in line?” she asked. “No no, as the most successful of us, you’re the first one up for taking care of her in her old age.”

“Who are you calling old?” their mother demanded.

“You mom, you’re 65,” she said.

“None of you are allowed to call me old ‘til I’m on my deathbed!” she declared. “So you’re all gonna be waiting a long damn time!”

Amanda laughed loudly. “See, we have to keep her!” ****************************************************************************************************

Later that evening, as Craig and Andrew were lying down on their bed, Craig turned to his bro and said, “I love you. Happy Thanksgiving, bro.”

Andrew smiled back. “Happy Thanksgiving, bro. I’m so grateful to be with you.” ****************************************************************************************************

Black Friday was spent, oddly enough, not at the office, as Andrew half expected. Rather, when he awoke in the morning and wandered out into the living room, he found Craig trying to teach River how to walk. He held her arms up gently with her feet set on the floor in front of him. She was making hesitant steps as Craig cheered her on.

“Morning workout seems a bit different this morning,” Andrew quipped.

“Tiny bro has her regimen, too, dude,” Craig said without looking up.

“Does this mean I get a rest day?” he asked.

“Just for that I’m gonna push you even harder today.” He teased. He let River go to let her stand for a while.

“Nice knowing ya, Popsicle,” Amanda said from the couch.

“Make sure to say something nice at the funeral,” he replied. “Something poetical. Something with imagery.”

“I’ll write a haiku,” Amanda promised.

Just then River fell to the ground and began crying. Craig knelt down and began encouraging her and helping her get back into a standing position. She sniffled, but let him help her go through some clumsy steps. Just then Carl Jr. trotted into the room wagging his tail slightly as he sniffed River. River smiled and let go of Craig’s fingers and reached out and grabbed Carl’s fur, using him to cruise around. Carl didn’t seem to mind and walked around slowly as he supported her tiny body. Amanda took out her phone and began taking a video of the two of them as Andrew and Craig heaped gobs of praise on both the baby and the dog.

The effect was eventually ruined by River falling down on her butt. She started crying in frustration, but Carl Jr lay down behind her and began to lick her face. Her crying stopped and she began giggling. The lesson officially ended as River began playing with Carl’s fur and ears.

“Amanda,” Craig said. “Can you watch them? I’m gonna kill your dad.”

“I’m not even dressed yet!” he protested.

“You have a t-shirt and pajama pants. Just throw some shoes on, what more do you need?”

“Have fun!” she cheered as Craig dragged Andrew down to the basement. ****************************************************************************************************

True to his word, Andrew felt like he was dying. By the time Craig announced he was done, his entire upper body felt like it was about to disintegrate. Craig, on the other hand, looked great, even if he himself had gone as hard as he had pushed his bro. His biceps were pumped, his chest was heaving, and his shirt was so sweaty it clung to his body and Andrew found it difficult to be cross with his bro while he looking so sexy.

Be that as it may, even if Craig were in the mood, he didn’t think he had the energy to have sex with him. He also just wanted to get in a shower and wash himself off.

“Hey bro,” Craig said, bumping his shoulder with his fist. “You did good today, I’m really impressed with how far you’ve come.”

Andrew blushed despite himself. “Thanks, I couldn’t have done it without you,” he replied.

Craig gave that toothy grin. Dammit I’m supposed to be angry and he’s being cute. “Aw bro, you’re gonna make me blush.”

Andrew gave in and grinned. “Much as I enjoy complimenting each other, I’d love to wash off. I feel gross.”

“Wanna save water?” Craig asked.

Andrew grinned and his dick expressed interest. Maybe I do have a little energy left over after all. ****************************************************************************************************

Amanda was trying really, really hard not to think about how long her dad and Craig had been in the shower and focus on introducing the twins to one of her favorite shows: Warehouse 13. She was, after all, 18 and knew that there was a limited number of things people did in the shower. So far, Briar had declared that Artie was her favorite character and Hazel threw her lot in with Myka. River wasn’t paying much attention, as she had curled up on the floor with Carl Jr and fallen asleep and Carl lay his head protectively in her lap. Amanda had gotten lots of great pictures that she fully intended to frame and put on a wall somewhere in the house.

Just then Andrew and Craig walked out of their room, clean and refreshed. Their eyes took in everything that was happening. The show, the twins captivated by the show and River and Carl sleeping together on the floor.

“Please tell me that you got pictures of that,” Craig stage whispered. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Hell yeah, dude,” Amanda replied in like fashion, holding up her camera. “I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this!”

Craig walked over to her to give her a fist bump, but his plans were ruined. Amanda got up and hugged him. Craig was a bit surprised but returned it gently.

“I love being part of this family,” she said.

Craig smiled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his bro wipe his eye. “Me too, Amanda. Me too.”

[rhinozilla]

Caryl prompt: "is there a special reason, as to why you're wearing my shirt?"

Lazydays were the rarest of luxuries now, and Carol was determined to make the mostof it. Of course there were always things that needed to be done, but after theweek she’d had, none of it seemed too urgent at the moment. At the very least,she was willing to push it off to tomorrow for one day of blissful peace.

Exceptshe couldn’t find her favorite hoodie.

Shehuffed and rummaged through the clean laundry stack at the end of the bed. Itwas hard to miss it; the thing was a XL Barbie pink monstrosity. The drawstringson the hoodie had little fuzzy white balls on the ends, and half of the iron-onwords “Barbie Girl” in fancy font had peeled off in places. Yeah, you could goblind by staring at it for too long, but holy shit if it wasn’t the mostcomfortable item of clothing that Carol had ever worn.

Andnow it was missing.

Witha huff, she lost her patience and grabbed up the next best thing: Daryl’sfavorite t-shirt. It was a dark grey short sleeved t-shirt and the only shirtthat had survived Daryl Dixon without getting its sleeves ripped off or gettingstained with some combination of blood, mud, or grass smears. It wasmiraculously intact, and because he only wore it as a pajama shirt, it smelledlike warm, sleepy Daryl.

Carolbounced on her heels and put on the shirt, tugging at the stretched outshoulder span of the fabric. She grinned; yep, this was Daryl’s shirt. Shebunched up the neckline in her hands and lifted it to her face, inhaling thescent. She smiled and dropped it, letting the shirt fall baggy on her frame asshe pulled on her flannel pajama pants.

Sheconsidered crawling in bed and wasting the morning away, but she decidedagainst it, stepping out of the bedroom and heading down the hallway. Daryl wasalready up, of course, and she could hear him moving around in the kitchen. Shecouldn’t smell anything cooking, so she wasn’t sure what he was doing.

Carolsoftened her footsteps as she reached the wall that opened into the kitchen. Shepeered around the wall and sought him out. Daryl was standing with his back toher, in front of the sink, wearing just his underwear and…Carol’s favoritehoodie. Carol’s brows knit together, and she stepped around the wall the restof the way.

“Isthere a special reason, as to why you’re wearing my shirt?” she asked.

Darylglanced over his shoulder at her, paused whatever he was doing, and pointed ather, wearing his shirt. “Hey!”

“Heynothing.” She walked over and swatted his pointing finger out of the air. “You littlethief, you’re—you’re gonna stretch it out!”

TheBarbie sweater was working hard across the broadest part of his back, though thehem of the shirt seemed to actually fit him.

“That’sthe pot calling the kettle black. That’s mine,” he chided, pinching the end ofher right sleeve between his thumb and index finger.

“I’monly wearing this because I was looking for my sweater. You are…you are afashion statement, sweetheart,” she said, leaning back and taking in the blueboxers and the bright pink sweater.

Darylsnorted and turned back to what he was doing, rinsing vegetables in the sink. “It’scomfy.”

Carolthought about provoking him just to hear him say the word “comfy” again. Instead,she stepped up, closing the gap between his back and her front. She looped herarms around his middle and gave him a brief squeeze. Before letting him go, shereached up with both hands and gave him a little double boob grope. He swattedat her until she snickered and let go.

“Stop,”he grunted, but she could hear the grin in his voice.

“Whatare we doing?” she asked, stepping out from behind him and watching his handsdry off a tomato.

“Brunch,”he stated.

“Brunch,”she repeated. “Who are you, and what have you done with my Daryl? Wearing mypink Barbie hoodie and making brunch…with no meat that you freshly killed…”

“You’rea jerk,” he said with a smirk, taking out a knife to start slicing the veggies.

Caroltugged out a second knife and pulled over a freshly rinsed cucumber. She made astation for herself by the counter next to him, knocking her hip playfullyagainst his before she started cutting the cucumber. She cut it in half first,and Daryl balked.

“Whatare you doing?”

“I’mcutting it.”

“Fromthe middle? Are you a savage?”

Carollaughed and held up one end, sniffing that fresh-out-of-the-garden cucumbersmell. “Are you serious? Look at that tomato. I’ve seen you kill walkers morecleanly.”

Darylfinished slicing out a little chunk of tomato, popping it in his mouth. “Tastesjust fine to me.”

“Well,you need to make up your mind.” She shook her head, cutting slices of cucumber.“Either there’s an art to cutting vegetables or there’s not, Mr. VeggieArtiste.”

Shetook one of the cucumber discs into her mouth and savored the cool taste of it.She pointed lazily at him. “And you better not get any tomato juice on mysweater.”

Inthe end, none of the vegetables made it to the table or even a proper plate.The two of them ended up just standing there at the counter, eating and talkingas they cut the vegetables. Carol eventually sat up on the counter, pickinglittle pieces of mutilated tomato from Daryl’s cut pile.

“AndI’m sorry that the animals around here are getting too smart for my traps.Walkers scare off anything else worth hunting lately,” he said, drying off theknife as they ran out of vegetables to cut.

“Aw,”she cooed. “It’ll pick up. You’re a damn fine tomato hunter.”

Darylgave her a crooked grin and folded his arms. Carol offered up the last slice ofcucumber. He leaned over, without unfolding his arms, and took the slice withhis teeth straight out from between her fingers. Carol smiled and giggled as hestraightened up, taking the whole disc in his mouth, flashing her a caninesmile, and chomping down on it.

Carolcouldn’t handle it. She reached out and poked him in the stomach. He doubledover and swatted at her hip, still chewing. She squeaked and stuck her hand inthat ticklish spot right behind his ear. His shoulder shot up and pinned herhand between his collar and his jaw, and he quickly spun around and got hisarms around her. One arm went under her left knee and the other went under herright arm.

Hehauled her off her feet as she yelped in surprise, her midsection pinned perpendicularto his torso as he toted her into the living room. He gently dropped her on thecouch, and she clamped her arms around him, dragging him down with her.

“Thatwas playing dirty!” she snapped.

Darylcackled and let his dead weight land on top of her. She let out an ‘oof!” andgrappled at him, but he was too heavy to push off. She changed tact and startedpulling at the bottom of the pink sweater.

“Andyou’re stretching out my favorite sweater! Take it off!”

Helet her pull his arms over his head, and she could hear him giggling, eventhough his head and whole upper body had disappeared in the fluffy pink fabric.Her chest was fit to burst at the sight, and she finally yanked the hoodiefree, tossing it on the coffee table. That left Daryl in just his underwear ontop of her.

Thatdawned on both of them as the pink sweater hit the table, and Daryl leaned down,kissing her fully on the mouth. He tasted like cucumber and smelled like hersweater, and she kissed him back, suddenly hungry for more than brunch.

[nevermindthewind]

rational thinking

15 weeks, 4 days

It had started the week before, the whispering.

It was her fault, really; she made the stupid mistake of bringing a pregnancy book to class instead of one of her law books. That combined with the fact that her little bump was finally beginning to show, well...they were bound to start talking eventually. It was never anything Laurel couldn't handle (despite what she told Michaela she really wasn't that popular in high school, she was used to bullies), but still. She was already over it.

Which is why she was on high alert when she heard people behind her whispering. And sure enough,

“I mean how dumb do you have to be to get knocked up during law school?”

“At least now we know what actually goes on in that house.”

Laurel whipped her head around just in time to see two girls she’d actually considered nice stop talking abruptly and hastily get out their laptops.

God, it was like they wanted her to hear them.

She opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. Nothing good would come of calling out these assholes. So instead she threw them a sickeningly sweet smile and turned back to her desk. She checked her watch and sighed.

It was 9:03am and she was so ready for the day to be over.

--

Her other lectures were, thankfully, whisper free. And after spending a few hours working on her Evidence outline, Laurel was finally headed home. She was exhausted. And starving.

After finding out she was pregnant Laurel had basically been sick non-stop for eight weeks. She survived on rice, grapefruit, and orange Gatorade, the only three things she tried that didn't make her vom the second they touched her tongue. But about a week ago she finally turned the corner, and now she was always. So. Hungry.

She was about to text Wes, to ask him to pick up dinner, but before she even grabbed her phone it started to ring.

“Please tell me you got dinner,” she said in greeting.

“Hello to you too,” said Wes, clearly smiling through the phone. Laurel sighed.

“Hi, sorry. It's been a long day. And I'm hungry.”

“It’s okay. But yes, I have food. It's in the oven as we speak. Where are you?”

“About ten minutes away from my place.”

“Our place,” Wes corrected patiently. Laurel smiled. He'd moved into her apartment at the beginning of the semester. Laurel’s memory had diminished to the size of a goldfish lately, but every time she remembered she got excited all over again.

“Our place,” she agreed, smiling to herself.

“But that's perfect,” he continued. “Food should be ready by the time you get home, I just wanted to make sure. I’ll see you soon!”

“Wait what’d you-- ?” Laurel began, but the line went dead.

Damn it, Wes.

What if he got Chinese? Or something with mushrooms? Or ranch? Or something else that she couldn't eat?

She was going to kill him. Or eat him. At this point cannibalism wasn't completely out of the question.

--

By the time she got to her apartment, she was fuming.

Was it rational? Probably not. But she needed food. Pronto. Rational thinking was long gone.

She huffed up the stairs and barged into the apartment.

“Wes Gibbins...” she started. But upon entering the living room she stopped in her tracks, her anger completely gone in an instant.

The lights were off, and there was a small bouquet of peonies on the coffee table, along with a bunch of mismatched candles and all eight Harry Potter movies. Someone had also hung Christmas lights around the window, covered the couch in every blanket they owned, and placed her favorite old Brown t-shirt and plaid pajama pants on top.

Also something smelled divine.

“You rang?”

Laurel turned to see Wes leaning against the doorway, smiling. She had tears in her eyes.

“I thought we weren't doing Valentine's Day?” she asked, although she was grinning like an idiot.

“Well technically,” Wes made his way over to where Laurel was standing, “it's the day after Valentine’s. So I didn't break any rules,” he reasoned. He took her hand and pulled her body to his, her growing belly creating a small space between them. “Besides, it's really not much. I just figured we could use a break from school. And work. We don't have to watch all of them, of course, but I didn't know which was your favorite...”

Laurel took his face into her hands and locked his brown eyes onto her blue. “I love it,” she said, kissing him softly. “And for the record, 3rd movie, 7th book. No question,” she smiled as she continued. “Now, what’s for dinner because your girl is hungry and it smells like heaven.”

Wes laughed as he took her hand and led her to the kitchen. “Well, seeing as your favorite foods right now are anything acidic and anything with carbs, I combined the two and got pineapple pizza and garlic bread,” he said, pointing to the food warming in the oven. “But just in case that didn't work I made some rice, too. And, for dessert, our own pints of mint chocolate chip,” he finished, opening the freezer to reveal the two separate containers of ice cream. Laurel kissed him again before making her way to the oven.

“I have never loved you more than I do right now,” she said to Wes as she pulled the pizza out of the oven, eyeing it the way predators stalk their prey. She took a piece and sank her teeth into it. A moan, an audible moan actually escaped her lips. “Oh my god, you're amazing.”

Wes smiled and grabbed his own piece. “Thank you,” he responded. Laurel looked up.

“Oh I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to the pizza, my true love.”

“Of course, let me just give the two of you some privacy,” he smirked, heading into the living room. Despite her budding romance, Laurel followed.

Wes grabbed Prizoner of Azkaban off the table and popped it in while Laurel changed into her pajamas and got under a blanket. Wes was about to join her when he thought better and ran back to the kitchen to get the rest of the pizza.

“Don't want to stand in the way of true love,” he said as he came back in, setting the pizza down on the table. He sat down next to Laurel, who grabbed another piece before swinging her legs onto Wes’ lap and laying on her back.

“I think you’ve found the little peanut’s new favorite food,” she said as she chewed, one hand resting on her belly. Wes nestled his hand on top of Laurel’s, feeling their baby, their little peanut.

“Glad I could be of assistance, kid,” he said, directing his voice at her stomach. Laurel turned her head from the screen to face Wes as the opening credits began.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice suddenly smaller but serious. “This really is perfect. Especially after the day I’ve had.”

Wes smiled, softer this time. He took her hand and squeezed it.  “Who was it this time?”

“No one who matters, just a couple girls in Evidence.  It’s not that big of a deal.”

He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing. “It is a big deal,” he said.  “I hate that they do that to you.”

“I know.  But I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll survive. Besides, how can I complain when I have this to come home to?” she said, smiling. “And I’m not just talking about the pizza.”

“True, I am pretty hard to resist.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an attempt to be seductive.  Laurel laughed and shook her head.

“I take that back. You’re a dork.”

“Nah, you love me.”

Laurel crinkled her nose in mock disgust. “Debatable,” she replied.

“Fine, get your own footrest then,” he said, laughing as he picked up her legs and attempted to move them off his lap.  

“Ok maybe I do love you,” she said, promptly moving back to her previous position.  

“Mmhmm, that’s what I thought,” he said in a mock serious tone, dramatically turning back to the TV.  After a couple seconds he glanced over at her, and while they both were trying their best to look annoyed, upon making eye contact they burst out laughing.  

They spent the rest of the night watching Harry Potter, arguing over which houses they and the rest of the Keating 5 would be in (Wes refused to believe he was a Hufflepuff while Laurel insisted she was a Slytherin) and eating their own pints of ice cream (Wes ate about half of his while Laurel demolished hers; she was eating for two, after all).  And after a while they moved onto other more, well, traditional Valentine’s Day activities.  

That was one holiday tradition Laurel could get behind.

A few hours later they had ended up in bed, their pajamas in a heap on the floor. Wes had fallen asleep on his stomach, one arm tucked under his chest while the other was lazily draped across a sleepy, yet still awake, Laurel. It took forever for her to fall asleep these days; her body wasn’t used to sleeping on her back or side. She didn't mind, though. Not tonight, anyway. She smiled to herself as she watched Wes’ body gently rise and fall as he slept, his arm still resting on her belly.  Even while he slept he still was there for her. For them.  

And for that, Laurel felt pretty damn lucky.

[some1foundme]

Fic: Lost in the Memory ch. 18

Title: Lost in the Memory

Author: Some1FoundMe

Summary: Oliver Queen returns to his home in Star City after a five year tour overseas, much to the delight of his friends and family. There’s just one small problem. The injury that effectively ended his military career also erased a part of his memory.  As he struggles to put together the missing pieces of his past, his connection to his best friend’s little sister becomes something he can’t avoid. Who is Felicity Merlyn and why can’t he seem to stay away from her?  Olicity AU, no Arrow, no island.

A/N: Thank you thank you to everyone who is still sticking with me!  We are well past the halfway point in this fic and it seems as if things are beginning to look up for Oliver and Felicity!  I am so thankful to all of you who are taking the time to read this and especially to everyone who has left a comment.  Your kind words are definitely appreciated!  And to my beta westernbeauty, you’re encouragement through this whole process has been amazing. Thank you!

Read on AO3 or ff.net.

Chapter Eighteen

Felicity woke the next morning to the feel of warm sunlight on her face and the heat of Oliver’s body at her back.  His nose was pressed to the curve of her neck, his steady breaths ruffling her hair, and he had one arm curled around her.  His large hand was splayed across her abdomen, anchoring her to him.  She turned in his embrace, carding her fingers through his hair, and pressed her lips to his forehead.  A soft sound of content escaped him but he didn’t stir. She stayed cocooned in his arms until the pressing need for the bathroom forced her to get out of bed.

She snatched Oliver’s discarded shirt from the floor as she went and when she stood before the mirror over the sink a few minutes later, she couldn’t help but grin at her reflection.

Her blue eyes were somehow even brighter than normal against her flushed face and disheveled hair. The pink that stained her cheeks had spread to her neck and the swell of her breasts and she lifted her fingers to prod gently at her flesh.  Some of the color, she realized, wasn’t a blush at all, it was beard burn.  That knowledge made her grin widen and she rolled her eyes at herself.

Stepping back into the bedroom, her eyes fell to her husband.  He was spread out face down in their bed.  He slept on, clearly exhausted, and she definitely didn’t blame him. It had been a long night and Oliver had worked very, very, hard.

Felicity stepped into a clean pair of underwear before padding quietly into the hallway and down the stairs.

She made a beeline for the kitchen, her first stop at the coffee pot, before lifting her eyes to the clock on the back of the stove.  It was nearly ten thirty and she was mid-stretch when the reality of that struck her.

“Shit!”

She had promised Sara that she would have brunch ready for them at eleven.  It was her penance for canceling their girls’ night in favor of going on a date with Oliver and she’d completely forgotten about it.  Her sex addled brain had barely been able to remember her name the night before, there was no way she could’ve been expected to remember making plans with Sara and Nyssa.

Dashing around the kitchen, Felicity gathered the ingredients for a quick breakfast bake that she’d come to rely on in a pinch.  By the time she had the pan in the oven, she was down to less than ten minutes before her friends were due to arrive.  Cursing the fact that she knew they were punctual people, she bolted into the laundry room where she dug through the load of clothes she’d left in the dryer.  There weren’t many choices in the small pile but she managed to find a pair of pajama pants – her favorite ones with the little Matryoshkas on them – and she was grateful that she wouldn’t be forced to answer the door in her underwear.

At exactly eleven o’clock, as she was shuffling back into the kitchen, the doorbell rang and she hurried to the front of the house to answer it.

“Morning,” Sara greeted brightly, crossing the threshold after kicking snow off of her boots.

Nyssa followed her in, shutting the door and shedding her coat.  Felicity hugged each of them quickly and stepped back, frowning as she realized that her friends were eyeing her outfit suspiciously.

“What?”

Sara grinned, “Did you just roll out of bed, Lis?”

“It’s not that late,” Felicity mumbled, “And it’s Sunday.  And Thea’s not home.  I never get to sleep in.”

“Mmhmm.  And am I mistaking or is that Oliver’s shirt?” Nyssa questioned in her soft British accent.

Heat rushed to her cheeks even as she rolled her eyes.

“So what?  So I’m wearing his shirt, it isn’t a big deal. I mean, he’s my husband and it isn’t like I’ve never –“

“Did you two finally sleep together?” Sara asked loudly, laughter dancing in her eyes.

“Shh!  Geez, Sara!  He’s still sleeping!”

The two women exchanged matching grins and Felicity snorted at their enthusiasm.  She hadn’t been aware that her sex life was such a hot topic among her friends.  

She led the way into the kitchen where she poured coffee for each of them.

“I take it that means that the date went well?”

She handed Nyssa her coffee and shrugged.

“Felicity!”

She laughed, shaking her head, “I’m not giving you details.”

Sara shuddered, “Oh god, please don’t.  I still have nightmares about the one and only time I walked into this house without knocking.”

The three of them laughed together and the combination of her laughter paired with a night spent in Oliver’s arms left her feeling lighter than she had in months.  

Her husband appeared then, shuffling into the kitchen as he pulled a shirt over his head, quickly covering his very tempting body.  She was used to his spot-on impression of an angry bear first thing in the morning so when he pulled Nyssa into a quick hug, pecked Sara on the cheek, and dropped a lingering kiss onto her parted lips, Felicity was more than a little surprised. Sara and Nyssa seemed to share in her surprise, all three of them watching Oliver as he moved wordlessly to fill his own cup with coffee.

“Morning, Ollie,” Sara called after him, “How are you?”

He took a sip from his mug and shrugged, “Pretty good, actually, you?”

Sara’s eyes danced over to her and a teasing smile split her face.  She turned back to Oliver, sipping her coffee.

“Pretty good, though not as good as you, apparently.  It’s good to see the two of you so damn happy.”

Oliver only smiled softly at Sara before his eyes fell on her.  Felicity flushed at his look and shifted her bare feet on the cool wood floor.

“I might’ve forgotten to mention that I invited Nyssa and Sara over for breakfast this morning,” she confessed.

Oliver shrugged again, “That’s alright.  You were pretty distracted.”

Her cheeks burned and by Oliver’s grin, it was exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.  She smacked his shoulder, making Nyssa and Sara laugh.

“Breakfast won’t be ready for another half an hour,” she said tersely, “We can hang out in here or head to the living room or…”

“Here’s fine, ‘Lis. Let’s sit.”

Their group – now capped out at four – sat around the kitchen table.  Oliver occupied the chair beside her, his arm slung across the back of hers, and she relaxed into his hand as he massaged her upper back.  Sara and Nyssa sat opposite them, as close to one another as their chairs would allow, and an amiable silence settled around them.  For a long moment, the only sound to fill the room was that of coffee being sipped.

Sara broke first, her face splitting into a wide grin as her eyes locked on Oliver.

“Do you remember the time you and Tommy, Nyssa and Laurel dove off of that cliff at Rook’s Landing? You guys would’ve been, what? Seventeen, maybe?  It was the beginning of May and Tommy dared you to jump. No one expected you to do it but you didn’t think twice about it.  Then Tommy did it, too.  And my idiot sister thought that she needed to follow you both.  God, I was so pissed at all of you.  I wasn’t even supposed to be there.”

Oliver shook his head ruefully.

“Tommy used to dare me to make that jump all the time.  You would’ve thought after the first ten times he would’ve realized that I’d never say no.”

Sara snorted, “You would think, but no.  For some dumbass reason, Tommy thought that jumping that cliff made him a bad ass. It didn’t, of course, but no one bothered telling him that.  God, my parents were so pissed when we got home that day.  Laurel ended up with pneumonia.  It was colder than hell and the water was freezing and she ended up wearing her wet clothes for hours before we finally got back to our house.”

“She spent a couple of days in the hospital, right?”  Oliver offered, “I thought your dad was going to kill Tommy and me.  I got grounded for a month for that.”

Felicity smirked, “Tommy did, too, if I remember correctly.  But he was always getting grounded because of the stupid shit you two did.”

Oliver chuckled, “And we did a lot of stupid shit.  But … but Nyssa, you didn’t jump.  You stayed with Sara.  You were both so pissed that we’d done it.  Mostly that Tommy and I had talked Laurel into jumping, too.  That was the first time you ever called me a ‘bloody bastard’.”

Nyssa’s eyes widened and flew to Felicity’s.  They stared at one another as Oliver continued.

“You slapped Tommy. Left a bright red handprint on his face. You didn’t speak to me for a week after.”

Reaching across the table, Nyssa grabbed Oliver’s hand and held it tightly.

“Oliver, I – you remember?”

He’d been staring intently into his coffee cup and when he lifted his head to meet her gaze, a small smile lifted one corner of his mouth.  He nodded.

Felicity’s breath caught in her throat.  She knew that she should be grateful that some of his memories had returned.  When he’d first come home, he’d had no recollection of Nyssa, of their relationship or the years that they’d spent together as children, and Nyssa had been heartbroken.  They were cousins but with both of them being the only child, they’d been as close as siblings growing up.  But she couldn’t find it in her to be happy for either of them.  He’d remembered Nyssa first.

She did her best to school her features so neither of them would notice the disappointment that she felt.

“I – I’ll be right back. I’ve left something in the car.”

Nyssa stood quickly, rushing out of the room.  Sara stood, too, her eyes resting gently on Felicity’s face.

“I’m going to use the restroom,” she told them, following her wife’s retreat.

Turning in his chair to face her, Oliver thread his fingers into her hair and guided her toward him. Felicity allowed him to draw her in even as she fought the urge to relax.  She hadn’t realized how stiff her muscles were until he tried to move her.

“Good morning,” he whispered against her temple, “It’s a good thing that I heard you guys down here because I was this close to coming to find you without getting dressed.”

She laughed softly, “I’m sure Sara would’ve loved that.  She’s already been traumatized by your nakedness once in her life.  According to her, once was enough.”

At his confused look, she snorted, patting his stubble coated cheek gently.

“I’ll explain some other time,” she confirmed, leaning into him and taking comfort in his nearness, letting his presence chase away the insecurities that attempted to swallow her once again.

His lips grazed the top of her head just as Sara returned with Nyssa in tow, the former now carrying what appeared to be a photo album.  Both women reclaimed their seats at the table and Nyssa slid her chair around so that she was closer to Oliver.  She flipped opened the leather bound book filled with candid shots of their youth.

“What the hell is happening in this picture?” Oliver laughed, eyes raking over a series of successive shots, “Am I – is that a skateboard?”

Nyssa nodded, “It is. You thought that I should learn how to ride one and that, in order to teach me, you would demonstrate.”

Oliver groaned.

“I sucked at riding that damn thing,” he grumbled, “I bought it for myself one summer thinking that I could master it.”

“Mother realized what we were doing and knew that you and a skateboard were an accident waiting to happen so she followed us around with her camera.”

Oliver chuckled again and as they continued to flip through the pages, Felicity eased away from the table. She made a point to clear their breakfast dishes, carrying everything to the sink on the other side of the room, and turned her back on the three of them.

She had promised him that she wasn’t giving up, that she wouldn’t give up, but she felt as if she were trapped in quicksand.  Every time she struggled, every inch that she gained, she only sunk deeper.  She was fighting to hold onto the sliver of hope that she had left.  Oliver had to remember her someday, it had to come back to him.  But as she watched him laugh with Nyssa and Sara, as she listened to him recount details of the childhood he and his cousin had shared, another piece of her splintered. Because he hadn’t remembered Nyssa when he’d returned, he hadn’t known anything about her, and after only three weeks – and having spent very little of that time with her – his memories of her had returned.

So Felicity couldn’t help the worry that wormed its way into her heart once again.  What was it about their life, about their relationship, that was so traumatic that Oliver’s memories just wouldn’t return?  He’d spent nearly every moment with her integrating himself back into the same routine he’d had prior to his deployment and yet they’d made no progress.  At least not in their mission to help him recover from his amnesia.  

Heat slid along her spine as flashes of the night before assaulted her.  It had been incredible.  Consuming and gratifying and overwhelming in the most delicious way. He had done everything in his power to eliminate her doubt and to prove to her how much he truly loved her.  And she had felt every ounce of his love as his weight had pressed her to the mattress, his body molded to hers.

“Hey.”

She started, dropping the fork she’d been washing into the sink basin with a loud clatter.  

“Geez, Sara, do I need to get you a bell?”

Her friend laughed, leaning into the counter beside her, and by the look at the other blonde’s face, Felicity knew her darkening mood had been detected.

“You okay?”

Felicity shrugged, “Fine.”

Sara’s brow hitched towards her hairline, her expression doubtful, and Felicity sighed.

“It’s just that… last night we ran into this woman.  Oliver’s high school girlfriend and he … he remembered her.  And now he’s remembered Nyssa.  But I – but he –“

Sara’s cool hand grasped her forearm.

“But he hasn’t remembered you?”

She nodded, swallowing around the lump in her throat, and focused on the soapy water.

“I had to have done something wrong,” she admitted quietly, “Because there’s obviously something in our past that his brain is determined to forget.  Why… why is it he can remember everyone and everything except for me? It’s like I’m a ghost.  Like I’ve just been completely erased.  Every memory that Oliver has that involved me has been wiped clean and it doesn’t feel like they’ll ever come back.”

The sound of Oliver’s throaty chuckle drew her eyes across the kitchen to where he and Nyssa sat hunched together, laughing over the moments of their childhood that had been captured in the photos Nyssa’d brought.  A weight settled in her chest, twisting around her heart.  The jealousy she’d fought off at the restaurant the evening before swelled dangerously.

“You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong, Felicity.”

She shook her head, pulling her arm free of Sara’s grasp.  She stepped into the laundry room just steps from the kitchen.  Sara followed.

“What does Oliver have to say about this?  You’ve talked to him, haven’t you?”

Felicity sighed heavily as she began pulling clothes from the dryer and folding them haphazardly.

“We’ve talked.  He’s hopeful.  And – and he’s in love with me.  Which is wonderful, don’t get me wrong.  But it – it’s not the same, Sara.  I will do whatever I have to do to keep him in my life but I’m so afraid of what will happen if he never remembers.  He says that it doesn’t matter, that he’ll love me no matter what, that he wants to be with me but… I don’t know.  I’m scared.”

Her friend stepped closer and caught her hands, stilling her movements.  She forced Felicity to meet her eye.

“You have every right to be scared.  I can’t say that I understand because I don’t think that anyone can.  None of us have gone through anything like this before. But, Lis, you have to keep your head on and just keep living.  You love him and he loves you.  The two of you want to be together.  I imagine that it’s going to be difficult but you know what?  Nothing worthwhile ever comes easy.  So the question is, is being with Oliver worth all of the pain that you’re feeling right now?”

Felicity nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Yes.  Ab – absolutely.”

She let Sara pull her into a tight hug, pressing her face to the other woman’s shoulder and letting out a single, shuddering sob.  

When she stepped away, wiping her face with the sleeve of Oliver’s shirt, she sighed.

“Sorry.  God, I – sometimes I worry that I’m not strong enough for this.”

Sara laughed, “Lis, you are pretty much the strongest person that I’ve ever met.  You survived the loss of your mom and Laurel and then Tommy not much later.  You take care of your dad’s pathetic ass as much as he’ll let you.  And on top of all of that, you run Verdant while parenting an eleven year old.  You’ve got this.”

Felicity snorted and drug her fingers through her hair.  She knew that Sara was right.  She had handled so many tragedies in her life, had lost too many people, and she’d survived.  And she’d done so with Oliver at her side.  It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember the details of their past.  It didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember the life they’d had before the amnesia.  What mattered was that he was safe, alive and well and with her again.  He knew that he loved her.  He’d assured her that he wanted her and that he was willing to fight for them.  She could get past this new hurtle that life had thrown at them, she would get past it, because once again, she had Oliver at her side.

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Unwelcome

The series is as follows :

Mama Scully’s Party …. Morning … Underwears … Maps … Nachos … Foul Ball … Promises … Stay … Phone Calls … Flannel Interruption … Awakening… Friendly Compromises … Scrabble … Apart …  A Long Week … Lightning … Missing You … Interim … Stuff … Waiting … Going … Hands … Unsteady … Fear … Fast … Slow … Regardless … Into the Dark … Light … Surfboards … Curbs … Showers … Borders … Canyons … Soaked … Ice Cream … Never Happened … Deep South … Almost … Blue-Suede Shoes … Unwelcome … Remarkable … Stars … Doorbells … M&Ms … Knees ... Home

___________

“How you holding up?”

Mulder, feeling like he was about to die of exhaustion, gave her a grin, “pretty good.”

She laughed heartily in his face, “you are a big, fat liar. Five more minutes, then we’re heading back to the room so you can collapse in the comfort of your pajamas.”

“We haven’t even been out to the plane yet.”

“It’s a plane, Mulder. We’ve been in plenty.” And wouldn’t you know it, he instantly hit her with those damn, sad, pathetically unfightable eyes and she dropped her head in concession without even mustering a fight, “fine. We’ll do the plane, then we’ll go.”

“Doctor’s orders?”

“Doctor’s orders.”

“Fair enough.”

She picked up dinner from yet another wonderfully eclectic diner, having assisted Mulder in polishing off last night the BBQ that was supposed to feed them today. It was salad time again but she also bought a heaping mound of cheese fries and chocolate pie for dessert, “I am going to try pie again. Maybe it’s changed.”

“Since last week when you didn’t like it?”

“This has homemade whipped cream and peanut butter in it. I feel remiss if I don’t try it again.”

With a chuckle in her direction, he carefully balanced the bags on his lap, “we will find you a pie you like if it kills us.”

“It might take a while.”

“I’m game if you are.”

Heading back into evening traffic, “bring on the pie.”

The face she made while biting into that piece of pie was priceless, “what is this? This is terrible. It’s like warm, congealed pudding or a weird liquefied then re-solidified Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup.” Looking at him with a pinched look to her mouth, “you like this?”

He happily slid her piece towards him, digging in his fork, “damn right. I’ll just finish yours.”

After a long drink of tea, “I should really just stick with cupcakes.”

“I’ll eat your pie anytime, Scully.” He went red instantly, then grinned, chocolate covering his teeth, “that totally came out wrong.”

She simply rubbed her bare foot against his under the little table they were eating at, taking another long drink while he intently stared at her throat as she swallowed.

Both knew what she was doing and neither one of them minded.

&&&&&&&&&&

She woke up at 3am when Mulder groaned in his sleep. Realizing he had rolled onto his stitches, she coaxed him back on his side and still sound asleep, his hand wandering from her waist, under her shirt, towards her armpit, thankfully stopping on her ribcage, fingers on her back, thumb dangerously close to the underside of her breast. He stroked her skin a few times before he settled again, breathing deep, having no idea what he was doing to the woman sharing his bed.

Scooting closer to him, making his hand fall down behind her, she smiled into the dark, burying her head against his neck and drifting off.

&&&&&&&&&

Stormy weather rolled in sometime during the night and the heaviness of the clouds, combined with the rhythmic drone of rain, their room stayed in shadow and they stayed asleep much longer than they’d planned. It wasn’t until a crack of thunder shook the room that Mulder opened his eyes, first wondering where he was, then wondering where exactly his hand was. Turns out, after a moment of contemplation, that Scully was lying on her stomach and his hand was nestled between her shoulder blades. Stroking his finger once, then twice, over the two nubbins nearest his middle finger, he felt her stirring but continued, her soft skin overriding his sense of chivalry that should have stopped him and allowed her to keep sleeping.

“Muller?”

“Shh. It’s just me.” She shushed, except for the quiet ‘mmm-mmm’ that penetrated his ears. Leaning a little closer, “that good?”

Not answered, hovering in the middle of murky twilight, he was just about to expand his reach to more spine and skin when the thunder cracked so loud he jumped and Scully screamed, “Mulder! I need your help!” into the pillow.

“Shhh, hey, Scully, I’m right here. Everything’s fine. It’s me. Everything’s fine.” Repeating that a few times, hand rubbing her back harder, the sensory touch hopefully soothing her quicker than his voice, “wake up. It’s me.”

Flipping her head over, she blinked a few times in his direction before finally focusing on his face, his dark eyes, his stubbled chin, “you’re not Duane Barry.”

“I am not Duane Barry.” Bringing his hand from under her shirt to the back of her neck, noticing her skin clammy and her hairline damp with sweat, “are you okay?”

Trying her best to slow her racing pulse, she took a deep breath, sitting up, letting his hand slip from her neck, down her chest and land in her lap. Another jarring thunder boom followed a bright flash of lightning but she didn’t even blink, her nightmare quieting quickly under the gaze of her partner. “I’m fine.”

Mulder propped himself on one elbow, moving his hand deeper into the diamond space of her crossed legs, gripping her ankle under the hem of her pants, “I didn’t know you still had dreams about him.”

The statement’s sad undertone made her frown, her forehead creasing, “I have dreams about them all, Mulder. What did you expect? That I’d simply forget abductions and ice picks and axes and the myriad of shit crazy people have put me through because time has passed?” The frown now switched to a look of complete incredulity as she ran her fingers up his arm, “Mulder, you share a bed with me, you share a bed with my psyche.”

His hand shifted from her ankle to the crease of her knee, the fold between thigh and calf warm around his fingers, “but why right now? The storm? We’ve had storms on this vacation and none of them have triggered nightmares.” Her second-long hesitation made his heart drop, “how many dreams do you have about them?”

Scully hated to say it but couldn’t lie, “mostly they are the only ones I remember so it feels like all my dreams are about them. I don’t wake up too often anymore or if I do, I just wait it out, then go back to sleep when I feel better.”

Mulder was now sitting up, cast tangled in sheets, hand still in its spot, “you don’t have good dreams?”

“It’s fine, Mulder, I promise.”

The back of his free hand ran down her cheek softly, “why don’t you wake me up?”

That stupid, solitary tear she hadn’t even known she was producing dropped slowly through his fingers and she couldn’t believe she was about to confess, “because I can’t bear to add any more burden to that beautiful soul of yours.”

His hand wound around to the back of her neck, which was rapidly taking the place of her lower back as his favorite place to keep his palm. Drawing her towards him, he kissed the salty track of her tear, “next time, wake me up, please.”

Nodding against his lips, pressed now to the soft skin beneath her ear, she began contemplating returning the kiss when suddenly, the large window beside the bed shattered, wind whipping through the room along with sheets of rain and unbelievably, a metal shopping cart.

&&&&&&&&&&&

They got the hell out of the city as soon as it was clear. The tornado had been small, possibly not even a tornado but just a very high wind at the height of the storm but either way, a shopping cart had ended up in their hotel room.

“A shopping cart, Scully. There was a freaking shopping cart in our hotel room. I mean, it doesn’t beat the cow but still, a shopping cart.” He was bouncing around the passenger seat, still amazed at their unwelcome wake-up call, “if only it had shown up with breakfast.”

The manager, what seemed to be every other guest in the hotel and eventually the police had shown up within a few minutes of the rain stopping, at first most were looking to see how the parking lot had fared but then they noticed the shopping cart hanging out of one of the windows. Scully just wanted to pack up their soaking suitcases, get in the car and leave but they needed to fill out forms and listen to the looping apology of the poor owner who didn’t seem to understand that he didn’t make the tornado, he didn’t fling the cart into their room and he didn’t have to keep apologizing.

Scully, however, nodded politely and let Mulder fill out forms while she impatiently wished she had four Tylenol and a cup of coffee.

Finally, they were on the road, still wearing pajamas, which were the only dry things they had at the moment and heading East, Mulder only quiet when he had an Egg McMuffin in his face. Finishing his two sandwiches, he held her hashbrown out to her, which she took with a soft ‘thanks’, then cruised on in complete silence.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Suddenly, she pulled over into a drug store parking lot, receiving a few long honks from angry drivers but not caring. Putting the Jeep in park, she stared out the windshield for a moment, nibbling on the edge of her hashbrown, “I just need a few minutes of quiet.”

He definitely hadn’t been expecting that and his stomach twisted, “what happened? I mean, beside the chaos and the shopping cart and the jabbering manager? Are you hurt?”

Without a word, she held up her wrist, showing him a scrape, “I’m having a very Duane Barry morning. Between the dream, the breaking window, the storm and now the cut, which is of course in the fucking same spot at the original one, I keep looking in the rearview mirror to check if he’s in the backseat, staring at me with those God-damned dead eyes, waiting to hand me off to a group of assholes who are gonna steal months from me and I’m just really, really rattled right now and completely pissed off that he invaded my morning so freaking thoroughly.”

The most he could do was reach over and rest his hand on her thigh, her own hands wrapped once again tightly around the steering wheel, “want me to drive for awhile?”

A damp chuckle emerged and she looked over at him, “as much as these psychotic cockknobs in our line of work want me dead, I don’t think I need to invite the death by letting you drive. Thank you for the offer though.”

Settling in, he kept his hand on her, his head resting on the corner of his seat, “you are most welcome.”

When she finally took a deep breath, cracked her knuckles, flexed her wrists, shook her head a few times and ran a hand through her tangled hair, she turned the car back on, looking over at him, “you ready to go?”

“As long as it’s with you.”

A genuine smile appeared this time, creasing her cheeks, giving him the erotic hint of a dimple, “14 hours to go.”

“And if you see one cockknob, you run him over and keep driving.”

“I’m not gonna escape that one, am I?”

“Cockknob? Are you kidding? I will be using that at least twice a day and four times every Thursday for the foreseeable future.”

“Thank Charlie for it when we get back. It’s one of his words.”

“One of his words?”

Her eyebrow went up, “he had a lot of them.”

“Tell me another one … please!??”

“No.”

“I’ll give you the Jeep to keep.”

“No.”

“I’ll buy you a house.”

“No.”

“I’ll do an expense report when we get back.”

“Just one?”

Shrugging, “promising any more will just set me up for failure.”

“Poop Noodle.”

“I love your brother.”