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archivxx · 2 years ago

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✯[0.11-extra]✯

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AN: this comes before 0.11

Note: there is a significant link between the amount of sunscreen poured in my hands and the intensity of my desire to murder Nichole.

“Now go right.”

“Got it.” Kyle’s finger flicked the indicator. A clicking sound filling the small car. “Going right.”

“No don’t listen to Craig. Turn left.”

Craig leaned forward and swatted Nichole’s arm. “Kyle, trust me. Nicholes never been to the farm. It’s on the right.”

“Google Maps says left.”

“Google Maps is wrong.”

“What do I do?” Kyle made a face in the rearview mirror. “Left or right? N/N, what do I do?”

In the back seat, you looked up from the car window and shrugged. “Try right; if it’s wrong, we’ll just turn around.” You shot Nichole a quick apologetic glance, but she and Craig were too busy mock-glaring each other to notice.

Kyle grimaced. “We’ll be late. God; I hate these stupid picnics.”

“We are, like”—you glanced at the cars clock—“one hour late already, I think we can add an extra ten minutes to that. I just hope there’s some food left.” Your stomach had been growling for the past two hours, and there was no way everyone in the car hadn’t noticed.

After the minor argument you’d had with Clyde over text, you’d been tempted to simply skip the picnic. Hole yourself up in your room and practice the drums—just like you had all weekend—ignore the fact you had told him to fuck off in one of the messages later on, and with every little reason. You could use the time to work on a report you were doing for your friend, which was providing a trickery time than you had originally thought when agreeing to it—probably because you were essentially unprepared for everything. But you’d changed your mind last minute, telling yourself that you’d promised Clyde you’d meet here and show off to the department chair. It would be unfair of you to back out after he’d done more than his share of the deal when it came to convincing Nichole.

That was of course in the very unlikely case he still wanted anything to do with you.

“Don’t worry, Kyle,” Nichole said. “We’ll get there eventually. If anyone asks lest say that a mountain lion attacked us. God, why is it so hot? I bought sunblock, by the way. SPF thirsty and fifty. No one is going anywhere without putting it on.”

In the back seat you, Tolkien and Craig exchanged a resigned look, well acquainted with Nichole’s sunscreen obsession.

The picnic was in full swing when you finally arrived, as crowded as most events with free food. You made a beeline for the tables and waved at your advisor, who was sitting in the shade of a giant oak tree with other faculty members. You’d advisor waved back. No doubt please to see that her advice is probably what got you here. You smiled weakly in a valiant attempt to not look resentful, grabbed a Chester of white grapes, and popped one into your mouth while letting your gaze wander around the fields.

Nichole was right. This may was uncommonly hot. There were people everywhere, sitting on the lawn chairs, laying down in the grass, walking in and out of barns—all enjoying the whether. A few were eating from plastic plates on folding tables close to the main house. There were at least thirty games going on—a verity’s on valley ball with the players standing in a circled, a soccer match, and something that involved a frisbee and over a dozen half dressed dudes.

“What are they even playing?” You asked Nichole. You spotted Tweek tackle someone from admin and looked back to the almost empty tables, cringing. Slim picking was all that was left. You wanted a sandwich. A bag of chips. Anything.

“Ultimate Frisbee, i think? I don’t know. Did you put on sunblock? You’re wearing a tank top and shorts, so you really should.”

You but into another grape. “You Americans and your fake sports.”

“I’m pretty sure there are Canadian tournaments of Ultimate Frisbee, too. You know what’s not fake?”

“Melanoma. Put on some sunscreen.”

“I will, Mom.” You smiled. “Can I eat first?”

“Eat what? There’s nothing left. Oh, there’s some corn bread over there.”

“Oh, cool. Pass it over.”

“Don’t eat the corn bread, guys.” Tolkien popped up between you and Nichole. “Kenny said that some guys needed all over it. Where did Kyle go?”

“Parking—holy shit.”

You looked up from your perusal of the table, alarmed by the urgency in Nichole’s tone. “What?”

“Just, holy shit.”

“Yeah, what—”

“Holy shit.”

“You mentioned that already.”

“Because—holy shit.”

You glanced around trying to figure out what was going on. “What is—oh there’s Kyle. Maybe he found something to eat?”

“Is that Donovan?”

You were already walking toward Kyle to fine something edible and skip the whole sunscreen nonsense altogether but when you heard Clydes name, you stopped dead in your tracks. Or maybe it wasn’t Clydes names but the way Nichole’s was saying it. “What? Where?”

Tolkien pointed at the Ultimate Frisbee crowd. “That’s him, right? Shirtless?”

“Holy shit,” Nichole repeated, her vocabulary suddenly pretty limited, given here twenty something years speaking English. “Is that a six-pack?”

Tolkien blinked. “Might even be an eight-pack.”

“Are those his real shoulder?” Nichole asked. “Did he have shoulder-enhancement surgery?”

“That must be how he used the contract money,” Craig said. “I don’t think shoulders like that exist in nature.”

“God, is that Donovan’s chest?” Kyle leaned his chin over your shoulder “was that thing under his shirt while he was being a dick and shredding my chords a new one? N/N why didn’t you say he was shredded?”

You just stood there, rooted to the ground, arms dangling uselessly at your sides. Because I didn’t know. Because i had no idea. Or maybe you had, a bit, from seeing him push that truck the yesterday—though you’d been trying to suppress that particular mental image.

“Unbelievable” Nichole pulled your hand toward herself, overturning it to squirt a healthy dose of lost job on your palm. “Here, put this in your shoulders. And your legs. And your face, too—you’re probably at thought risk for all sorts of skin stuff, freckles McFreckleface. Ky, you too.”

You nodded numbly and began to massage the sunscreen into your arms and thighs. You breathed in the smell of coconut oil; trying really hard not to the about Clyde and about the fact he really did look like that. Mostly failing, but hey.

“Are there actual studies?” Tolkien asked.

“Mmm?” Nichole was pulling her hair into a bun.

“On the link between freckles and skin cancer”

“I don’t know.”

“Feels like there would be.”

“True. I wanna know now.”

“Hold on. Is there Wi-Fi here?”

“N/N do you have internet?”

You wiped your hands in a napkin that looked mostly unused. “I left my phone in Kyle’s car.”

You turned your head away from Nichole and Tolkien who were studying the screen of Tolkiens iPhone, until you had a good view of the Ultimate Frisbees group—fourteen men and zero women. It probably had to go with the general excess if testosterone in your work place. At least half of the players were people you were sure you’d never seen before except Clyde, of course, and Pete, and Tweek who despite his usual jittery self and then was doing a fairly good job at not-jittering to say he’s usually pumped up with caffeine to a point of concern. All men were equally shirtless. Though, no. Not equal at all. There was nothing equal about Clyde.

You weren’t like this. You were really not. You could count the number of guys your been this viscerally attracted to on one hand. Actually—on one finger. And at the moment said guy was running towards you, because Pete Thelman, and bless his heart, had just thrown the Frisbee way too clumsily, and it was now in a patch of grass approximately ten feet from you. And Clyde, shirtless Clyde, just happened to be the one closest to where it landed.

“Oh, check out this paper.” Tolkien sounded excited.

“Khalesi et al., 2013. It’s a meta-analysis. ‘Cutaneous markers of photo-damage and risk of basal cell carcinoma of the skin.’ In cancer epidemiology, biomarkers and prevention.”

Tolkien fist pumped. “Y/N are you listening?”

Nope. No, you were not. You were mostly trying to help the your brain, and your eyes, too. Of your fake boyfriend and the sudden warm ache in your stomach. You just wished that you were elsewhere. That you were temporarily blind and deaf.

“Hear this: solar lentigines had weak but positive association with basal cell carcinoma, with odds ratios around 1.5. Okay i don’t like this. Tolkien hold the phone. I’m giving Y/N more sunscreen. Here’s SPF fifty; it’s probably what you need.”

You tore your eyes from Clyde’s chest, no alarmingly close, and turned around, stepping away from Nichole. “Wait. I already put some on.”

“Y/N,” Nichole told you, with that sensible, motherly tone she used whenever you dipped and confessed that you mostly got your veggie servings from french fries, or that you washed your colours and whites in the same load. “You know the literature.”

“I do not know the literature, and neither do you, you just know one line from one abstract and—”

Nichole grabbed your hand again and poured half a gallon of lotion in it. So much of it that you had to use your left palm to prevent it from spilling over—until you were just standing there like an idiot, you hands cupped like a beggar as you half frowns in goddamn sunscreen.

“Here you go.” Nichole smiled brightly. “Now you can protect yourself from basal cell carcinoma. Which, frankly, sounds awful.”

“I…” you would have face-palmed, if you’d had the freedom to move your upper limbs. “I hate sunscreen. It’s sticky and it makes me smell like a piña colada and—this is way too much.”

“Just put on as much as your skin will absorb. Especially around the freckled areas. The rest you can share with someone.”

“Okay. Nichole, you take some, you too Kyle. You’re a ginger for God’s sake.”

“A redhead with no freckles, though.” He smiled proudly like he’d created his genotype all on his own.

You turned to Tolkien. “I already put on a ton. Thanks, babe.” He leans down for a brief kiss to Nichole’s cheek, which almost devolved into a make out session.

You tried not to sigh. “Guys, what do I do with this?”

“Just find someone else. Where did Craig go?”

Tolkien snorted. “Over there, with Scott.”

“Scott?”

“Yeah that guy with diabetes, you know the one.”

“Is he pissing him off? Or—”

“Guys.” It good all you had not to yell. “I have no mobility. Please, fix this sunscreen mess your created.”

“God, N/N” Nichole rolled her eyes. “Your so dramatic sometimes. Hang on—” she waved at someone behind your, and when she spoke her voice was much louder. “Hey, Donovan! Have you put on sunscreen yet?”

In the span of a microsecond your entire brain burst into flames then crumbled into a pile of ashes. Just like that, one hundred million neurones, one thousand billion glial cells, and who know how many millilitres of cerebrospinal fluid, just ceased to exist. The rest of your body was not doing very well, either, since you could feel your organs shut down in real time. From the very beginning of your acquaintance with Clyde there had been about ten instances of you wishing to drop dead on the spot, cor the earth to open up and swallow your whole, for a cataclysm to hit and spare you from the embarrassment of your interactions. This time, though it felt as though the end of the world might happen for real.

Don’t turn around, what’s left of your central nervous system told you. Pretend you didn’t hear Nichole. Will this into nonexistence. But it was impossible. There was this triangle of sorts, formed by You, Nichole in front of you, and Clyde probably—surely—standing behind you; it wasn’t as if your had a choice. Any choice. Especially when Clyde, who couldn’t possibly imagine the depraved direction of Nichole’s thoughts, who couldn’t possibly see the bucketful of sunscreen that had taken residence in your hands, said, “No.”

Well. Shit.

You spun around, and there he was—sweaty holding a Frisbee in his left hand and so very, very shirtless. He walked over to you, a perplexed look briefly occupying his face before he returned to his regular stoic one, then one of slight shock upon seeing your hands. He knew exactly what was coming.

“Perfect. Y/N has some extra, why don’t you let her put it on you?” Somehow the complete severity of the situation only just dawned on you when the words left Nichole’s lips. You were going to have to touch him. Touch his abs. And his large shoulder blades. His large shoulders��

“Oh okay, sure.” He threw the Frisbee back to the game telling them that he had to do something. Your eyes shot to him. Why was he agreeing to this? Many thoughts circled your mind. The main one being panic. You couldn’t do this. No way. There was no way you would lather Clyde Donovan in sunscreen in front of every person you have ever—and will ever know. Your eyes flickered between the sunscreen in your hands and Clyde’s broad chest. You were not going to do this. No way in hell. You couldn’t. And yet the sunscreen in your hands had starts to seep through the cracks in your hands leaving you with only one choice.

Fuck your life, for a real one.

You took once glance at Clyde to check his expression, you wanted him to retract his former statement, tell you that it was absolutely unacceptable considering the fact that you had only known this guy for a little over two month now and had spoken to him a total of twenty-three times and hardly knew anything about him. And despite all that wishing his expression didn’t change.

You raised your hand and started to massage the sunscreen into his chest. His firm chest. You tried your very best not you but the sweat began to collect in your hairline and the way that the sun was shining on you there was so doubt he could see it, glistening.

“Y/N.” Clyde said, it wasn’t loud enough that the group now behind you could hear but it was loud enough that your could hear. You looked up at him, his mouth did one of those twitch-things of his again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You heaved a sigh. He was right, you guys were going to find yourself in situations like this all the time now, considering you had a track record for it with Nichole. However that didn’t make the situation any less embarrassing. If anything that made you more embarrassed at the mere thought of something of this monstrosity happening ever again. Part of you couldn’t believe what you had gotten yourself into the other part told you you were insane. Of course this was your life, of course because what other purpose would your best friend had than to make it hell?

You continued to massage it into his skin. “Hey, Y/N are you good for a room when we go to Pete’s thing?” Your head whipped around to Nichole as a small seed of anxiety planted itself in your thoughts. What on earth could that question entail?

“I thought we’d be sharing?”

“Well, about that. I’m going to share with Tolkien, do you mind?”

Right, of course. “No! Not at all.” You forced a tight smile onto your face and looked back at Clyde, trying to focus all your attention on him.

“You’re gonna be okay for getting a room? You’re sure?”

“Positive!” You were lying to your best friend. While it felt shitty this is what you had wanted, this is what you had asked for at the start of all this, you had to be happy.

You focused fully on Clyde, blocking all of the thoughts about how you were going to stay in LA for a week out of your head and to be thought about on a later date. By now, you had fully coated Clydes front. You looked up at him. He cocked his head ever so slightly. His thick brown hair sticking to his forehead.

“Can you turn around? I finished your front.” He nodded then turned around. You were now met with his back. Holy shit was his back big. You couldn’t see all his muscles. Which wasn’t something you were typically attracted too but considering when he’s dressed he looks so skinny, his sleeper build was causing that heat to erupt in your stomach again. You were going to fight it off but you were interrupted by Clydes awkward swaying, you’d been buried in your mind for far too long.

You began to massage the sunscreen into his back, his muscles moved a little, jolting when you hit tight spots. This felt wrong. Like an outer body experience. Part of you thought you were going to double down on yourself at at moment. It was all just too much. You wanted you laugh at the pure idiocy of the situation but at the same time you wanted to cry at it. It was wrong—on every level possible.

You finished his back as fast as you could finishing it off with two taps on his back to let him know you were done—something you would cringe about when trying to fall asleep that night. He turned back to you. You looks at him, straining your neck. Why was he so goddamn tall?

“Well, thank you Y/N and thank you Nichole for…watching out for me?” With that he ran back to the game. Maybe he was still annoyed at you for the yesterdays mini argument. You stood rooted to the spot for a moment before turning around and grabbing the same napkin you had used the first time to wipe you hands and wiped them again.

“Wow.” Kyle said, approaching you. “That was an insane amount of sexual tension I just saw.”

You whipped your head around to Kyle, a breathy laugh forcing out of your lungs. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Ky.”

“That was like hella sexual. You just lathered him up N/N.”

“So what? It’s just an acquaintance helping an acquaintance.”

“Psh. Yeah right.”

“What? I’m being serious Kyle.” Your voice went a few octaves higher than you would have liked.

“Sure. If you guys ever fuck don’t say I didn’t tell you it would happen.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder. He dramatically stumbled away from you causing you to roll your eyes once again. Before he could get back up you walked over to Tolkien and Nichole who were now finally joined by Craig.

“Y/N I just saw that m scene with Donovan when I was talking to Scott, what was with the PDA?”

You stared at him. Dumbfound.

“Well come on. You used to complain about how gross couples who publicly doted on each were, where’s that same energy now?”

You stared at him a second more. Craig Tucker. Your childhood best friend and known for being a notorious asshole when it came to teasing. There was nothing Craig did better then pissing people off, which was being shown ever so clearly to you in that moment, one of the main factors to answer for why people don’t like him.

It took you more than physically restraint to not tell him to fuck off, or to sock him right in the face, instead you opted for the latter’s latter and shoved his head back, plopping yourself next to Nichole leaving a spot for Kyle next to you.

You would be counting down the seconds till you could go home.

Masterlist

Taglist: @bootsieboo @ryenwritess @h3artilly @southparktegreity @

#south park #bounded smau #clyde donovan #reader insert #clyde donovan x reader #kyle brovlofski #craig tucker #tolkien black #nichole daniels #tweek tweak #pete thelman #kenny mccormick

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throatcoat · 6 months ago

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//chapter 9// //we played house with the neighbors in the basement//

in my head, i counted out the miles between the speeding car and the only place i ever knew as home. the sun was going down, my mother slept in the passenger seat, my sister was silent in the back. the only noise was the stereo cutting in and out, picking up a preacher's voice interrupting johnny cash and his croons over june. my left hand left the steering wheel, and i ripped off the golden cross that sat on my collarbone. i did not need it anymore. we had five more hours left to the drive. we had not even made it over the mountain pass and my eyes already felt heavy.

that day began quiet, and i had no idea in just a few hours, my new life and identity was about to begin. the day before, i had passed my driving test and all there was left to do was pick up the certificate from the high school office. i had needed to go to the school anyways, i had text books to leave, and transcripts to pick up. it felt odd walking in to the school, no students, only two secretaries sleepily typing away. i walked out from the office and sat at the cafeteria table my friend group claimed stake. i looked around, at all the FFA flags and sports awards and class pictures dating back to the 50s. i stared at the stage i performed every recital on, every play, the talent shows. if i closed my eyes, i could almost see myself standing there, the spotlight hot and white and a real smile on my face. i rubbed my finger on the plastic table top and thought of the jokes that were told here, the secrets and stories. it hit me in that moment that it would be the last time i ever would step foot in the school i had gone to my entire life. i always thought i would graduate from there, even with the infection that had tainted what should have been the best years of my life. i had always thought that i would walk arm in arm with my two best friends, the crowd would be filled with the whole town, all the faces that even now, lay ingrained. it would have felt magical, like i really accomplished just making it through, but that happened to not be life's plan.

two weeks before my junior year was to begin, and my parents had dropped that we would be moving across the state to start over. they did not ask us before deciding and my dad was not coming with us. he had fires to fight and a house to sell, and he still was not allowed within 500 feet of my mother. my mother had been counting down until she was off of house arrest, when the blinking bracelet on her ankle could come off and she could go where ever she wanted again. my mother wanted a fresh start. she thought we needed a new place, too. it did not make much sense to me, after all, we stayed a whole year after everything had fallen apart. i was angry.

i was finally some-what okay after everything that had happened. my sophomore year, i found my place amongst the theatre kids, the creative writing exercises, we were going to go to state for knowledge bowl and i finally had a boyfriend (he came to our school that year, freshly implanted from las vegas)- a real one i did not mind. it felt like she had decided to ruin my life a second time.

the day my mom got her bracelet off was the same day i drove myself to the school to drop off my books. i had brought a packet of poetry i had written that summer, i planned to leave them on my english teacher's classroom door. she had been my savior my sophomore year, she had found a poem i forgot behind when rushing from class. the next day, she told me she was putting me in her creative writing class. after everything came out, she had been the only teacher in the whole school that did not treat me any different. there was one day that she pulled me aside to speak to me about the boy from vegas, how she was worried about the way he spoke to me. sometimes, i think she was the first person to really see me, and not through me. she saved my life in a very real way.

i thought of her as i sat at that table. i wondered if she knew the impact she had. my phone began to ring, it was my mom. she asked what was taking so long, she needed the car to go get her bracelet removed by her probation officer. i sighed, told her i would be there in a few minutes, i just had something i needed to drop off real quick. hurry she said, she was tired of being locked up she said. i wanted to say that she was not locked up, she was home and she was very lucky to be there. instead, i just said, okay.

i did not notice the car that followed me home that day, but i should have. the honda civic had been behind me earlier, it had parked in the school parking lot at the same time. i did not think about it. there were others that needed to be at the school during the dead end of summer, too, not just me. the windows were tinted, i could not see inside. i did not care to see inside. i just wanted to get in and out before i collapsed.

my eyes were burning with tears as i looked into the rear view mirror. i was at the turn off to the driveway, the same one i had learned to ride my bike on. it was then that i noticed. the car had turned, too. i stopped the car halfway and got out. the only other person who should have been driving up was my father, and this was not his vehicle. i started walking toward the tinted windows as it dawned on me exactly who it was sitting in that damned car. cowardly, the car backed out quick as it had showed up and sped down the highway. my hands trembled as i grabbed the car handle and finished the descent up the driveway. my mother had some explaining to do, but i knew none of her words really matter. i had stopped believing anything she had said awhile ago.

my body began floating above itself as i opened the front door. she sat at the kitchen table, a coffee cup at her lips. wake your sister up, she said, we need to get going. i did not say a word. i just looked at her face, not knowing what i was wanting to come out of it. the icy numbness had began to travel to my arms from my collarbone, urging me to sit in the bathroom instead. it would be so easy to grab the scissors that were hidden in the cabinet. i ignored the urges, walked past the bathroom to my sisters room. she was already up, she asked me if there was any coffee on. i already had her cup in my hand.

the thirty minute drive to the probation office and the lawyer she gave our college fund to was silent aside from my mother trying to talk to us, get us as excited as her, too. we could go anywhere and be anything now, she said. i did not want to be anything at all. i said nothing, i just sipped the watered down iced tea and put in my ear buds. the window was rolled down and the fire smoke made me cough. my skin was slicked with sweat and i wanted to be anywhere but there in that car that still smelled like some other man's cologne and stale mcdonalds.

the air conditioner did nothing as my sister and i sat in the car while she paid her final fees and signed the papers. what they don't tell you about getting electronically tagged with a bracelet is that you have to basically rent the bracelet. if i had learned anything, being horrible at being a bonafide criminal is extremely expensive. the lawyer fees, the court fees, the money you owe for bail, the way it leaves the rest of your family hungry and angry and tired. the way it takes away futures that should have never been impacted in the first place...it never felt worth it to me.

as my mother walked out, she was on her phone with her brow furrowed and i knew something was not right. i thought maybe they had decided to keep the bracelet on, maybe today had not been the day she could walk away, basically a free woman. she stood out there awhile, and the car was beginning to get too hot to sit in. i opened the door, she hung up the phone. we need to go, she said. she sounded nervous.

what usually was a thirty minute drive was over in twenty, and the second we stepped out into the driveway, she told us we needed to pack. we needed to leave now. i demanded an explanation, and then i got one as that same honda civic drove up the drive way. i starred at the tinted windows and then i looked back at my mom. she ran up to the windows that were rolling down, and i saw a hand flash out, and the sun glinted off something metal. it almost blinded me. my stomach turned as i realized what it was.

he had a gun.

he was sitting in our driveway, and he had a gun.

it was my mothers fault, he was here and he had a gun.

we were supposed to finally be free but god loves a cruel joke.

i grabbed my phone to call the police, and he told me to drop it.

the phone screen cracked as it the gravel.

i looked at my mother, still moving towards him, she pleaded with him to put the gun away. they could talk, she said. let her daughters go in the house she said.

he did not say a word as his hand disappeared below the window. she looked at me and told me to grab my sister and go inside. she was fine, we would be fine.

an hour went by before she finally came inside.

she told us to pack up, it was time to leave. we would be back soon to pack the house but we needed to go. she said she had talked him down, it was safe, but we needed to go where he could never find us.

i did not trust her.

i counted the miles silently in my head as we drove further and further away.

the dry desert air turned to mountain mist turned to a storm by the ocean.

i knew, once again, that nothing would ever be the same again.

#coat the throat

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anxiouspregnantlady · 7 months ago

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24+5

Woah, hello. It's been a whole month! P was out of school and we were scrambling every day to work + parent full time, but thankfully she has been back for a full week now and life is pretty good.

I've officially passed viability, yay!!

I am feeling overall pretty good!

Main updates:

Tailbone pain has started

Headaches sometimes, dizzy sometimes still

I think my climbing shoes feel tight? So, foot growth

Baby movements are quite big and fairly constant

Started feeling baby hiccup!

In terms of buying/acquiring things...I think we have all the big things (a car seat, a crib, newborn carrier, some bottle-type things) and I don't foresee any big items being needed in the next few months. Going back and forth on getting a separate pack n play, feel like baby can't possibly know the difference between a large crib and a small one?! Oh, nursing pillows - I don't have any. And I am waiting for my breastpump from insurance to arrive. And we need to set up the crib, planning to do that in... September.

Idk if it's my latent crunchiness or just nesting or plain old anxiety, but I feel very motivated to go plastic-free for as much of the feeding process as possible. Specifically trying to avoid warm/hot milk coming into contact with plastic. So...I'm going to try (TRY!) using mason jars for pumping and bottles ha ha hahahahahahaah i'm laughing at myself just typing this. But I really like the idea of using non-baby-specific stuff as much as possible. I want to protect myself from the BABY INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX (call it Big Baby) as much as I can, and one way to do that is to just use non-baby items as baby items. Like.....changing a diaper on a towel. We will NOT be buying a changing pad. Also maybe I can just nurse with a normal pillow??? I do however want to prioritize my BODY and ERGONOMICS because I remember completely destroying my neck and back and hips and everything actually from constant breastfeeding and carrying and bending and all that. So I have spent a fortune on a hope and plum baby carrier which actually just arrived. It's a cross back soft structured carrier in natural materials. And maybe I will spend good money on an ~ergonomic~ nursing pillow. But. I am also trying my hardest to wait til AFTER the birth to buy all this stuff.

OK OK here are all my other crunchy aspirations... I am only keeping clothes that are made with natural materials 99% of the time. I want to make a lot of my own stuff, like bibs. We are all ready for cloth diapering round 2. I think I will lean away from purchasing playspaces/"baby" activities and adopt more of a follow-me-around-my-life type of approach. I was so anxious to entertain P all the time, and I now feel that that urge didn't serve me and perhaps didn't serve her. I didn't know at all how to regulate myself when she cried, and I was ballistic when she was ballistic, which was a lot of the time. I think I will (by necessity and also by a shift in philosophy) be more loosey goosey with the wake window type shit. I will not be logging my baby's feeds with an app, unless medically necessary for whatever reason, though I will probably write down times in a notebook.

So many things are different this time... for one, we have a car. This considerably opens up the world for me as a postpartum mama. We did have a car for a bit with P (borrowed), but we didn't have a parking permit for our area and had to park 15min walk away. Also, I had terrible anxiety about driving alone with P. I absolutely dreaded her crying alone in the backseat, and so I didn't go anywhere alone with her. Whew. No wonder why I felt miserable. We are much more well-acquainted with our neighborhood now, vs being quite new 3 years ago. And probably most significantly, WE HAVE PARENT FRIENDS!!!! OMG!!!!! That live 5-10ish min drive away. Also, her big sister will probably provide plenty of "entertainment", lol.

I think in lieu of buying a lot of stuff that - not gonna lie, I do feel the tug/impulse/advertising pressure to buy - I want to budget for regular massages.

I will NOT spend all my free time lurking Sleep Training Facebook pages (oh, i feel for my poor past self) or buying more things that promise to help my baby sleep. I will trust more in my baby's inherent ability to sleep. I would LOVE to continue engaging in my hobbies as much as possible - walks, sewing, climbing, pressure-free cooking, reading, watching TV. Basically, I am hoping very much that I will be more of a Person and less of a ball of anxiety.

I hope I will be more open to napping during the day. I remember I never napped with P. Maybe I didn't believe that I could, or felt anxious that it would be a waste of time.

Oops this turned into much more of a postpartum post than a pregnancy one...but honestly, pregnancy is quite uneventful right now. My next "thing" to do is do my glucose screening, which involves chugging 16oz of orange juice in under 5 minutes. Once I hit third trimester I will probably (but maybe not? shrug) be more in a birth and labor headspace. I have thought quite little about birth/labor tbh. And I kinda like it that way.

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charnelhouse · 2 years ago

Note

Thinking of ghost as a dad makes me think of red taking her toddler son shopping for Halloween decorations and seeing a skeleton and the sweet boy is pointing and bouncing up and down like “it’s dada!”

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox). Pure fluff. This ask made me curl up with joy.

She’s a little late. Only ten minutes and it could be anything: traffic, an additional errand, a parking lot shoot-out. Simon’s fingers twitch as his cell phone sits on the coffee table.

It’s only ten minutes.

Ten. Minutes.

He’d lost her in Ecuador for four fucking days, and she’d been fine. Well, relatively fine. Alive.

She can survive anything. He knows this. He feels this. But he cannot shake the belief that one day, his past will catch up to him and take her away.

Don’t be a fuckhead, Simon. If it’s anyone’s past, it’s going to be mine.

That makes me feel better, duchess.

We’re sharing the burden, babe. Lucky for this kid, he’s got two spec ops, hot-ass parents.

Yah really love a finger gun, don’t you?

It’s called levity, dude. You’re too damn broody.

“Don’t call her.”

Simon startles before side-eyeing Johnny, who is spread out on the far end of the couch. “I wasn’t gonna,” he growls defensively.

“You’re staring at that phone like it’s a bomb.”

“She’s late.”

“She’s running errands with your enormous toddler. Yah know how hard it is to lift that kid? Try wrestling him into a car seat. Took me half an hour.”

Simon scowls. “Of course, I know. I do raise him.”

Johnny wiggles his eyebrows. “He takes after me.”

“Yeah, my enormous son is definitely your kid, tiny.”

“I’m six fuckin’ feet. Thank yah very much.”

“You’re still here?”

Simon twists around to see Red standing in the doorway. She’s got their son on her hip and an orange plastic bag in her other hand. She leaves him breathless. Her skin dewy, her hair falling in her face. Stunning in a way that burns him. He still wants to shove her over a table and wreck her, but that desire is now weighted with something far more tender. She’s carried his baby.

He knew she’d be a good mother, but he didn’t expect her to excel at it so...perfectly. She can handle a tantrum and peel a man’s skin off. She can silence him with a look.

“Simon said I could stay for dinner,” Johnny declares.

“I did not,” Simon refutes as he stands, rolling his shoulders. Their son’s tiny lips peel apart into a toothy grin, he claps his chubby hands together.

“Dada,” he squeals as he opens his arms.

Ghost smiles back, unable to blunt the joy that unfurls in his chest. Sometimes it’s all too much.

“He got you something,” Red says as she places him on the floor. When she straightens, she presses her hand to her lower back. “Jesus - that kid is heavy. Remind me to stop having your babies.”

“Uhuh,” Ghost says dutifully. “Of course.”

She’d threatened to leave him a thousand times when she was giving birth. Their son’s head had not been easy to deliver.

Red pulls something from her bag and hands it to their son, who waddles toward him. Simon crouches and sweeps him up in his arms. The boy squeals again delighted.

“What have you got there?” he asks as he nuzzles his nose into the down of his son’s head, the soft velvet curls. He smells like Red’s perfume.

“Dada!” he giggles as he lifts a plastic skeleton. Soap barks with laughter.

“He saw it in the store and lost it,” Red says as she walks toward them, placing a hand on the boy’s back. He shakes the skeleton before hugging it close. “Kept calling it dada. Got a lot of weird looks.” She cocks her head, her tongue darting over her lower lip. “I just wanted everyone to know that I’m getting it from a really hot skeleton.”

“Yah got a filthy head, Foxy.”

“You don’t even live here, Johnny.”

“Dada,” his son murmurs as he burrows his face into Simon’s throat. The skeleton is clutched against his chest, and he feels the boy relax, his damp, milky breath puffing against him as he nods off.

Simon clears his throat, blinking a few times. There’s a raw snag of emotion in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow. Simon tries to pull the skeleton from the boy’s hands to look at it, but his son yanks it closer.

“Typical,” Red remarks, her lips quirking in amusement.

“What is?” Simon smirks because he already knows.

“Do you know how hard it is to shake you off when you’re asleep? It’s like being spooned by a bull slash octopus.”

“It’s true,” Johnny interjects in an empathetic tone. “Remember Siberia?”

“That was a life and death situation!” Simon snaps. “Sub-zero temperatures.”

Red’s eyes widen, her expression intrigued. “Give me the details, Johnny, and I’ll make you dinner.”

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x red fox #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw22

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maeum-your · 2 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 45 | what's after like? (written)

word count: 5.2k

warnings: short mentions of domestic abuse, substance abuse, alcoholism, almost death, and abuse of power; panic attacks

a/n: i swear there's also lots of fluff 💀

< previous | next >

masterlist

never in her life did y/n think that she’d end up in jay’s bed one day, engulfed in his warm, bare arms, breath tickling her neck. but oops, i see i’m getting ahead of myself. let’s rewind and go back to the 30th of october, the day of the fated business party.

y/n and ningning were standing in the red haired girl‘s front yard holding hands. y/n tensed up every time a car came down the street. they were waiting for the car.

punctual as ever he arrived at exactly 6:45, just as he had said he would.

ningning pulled her best friend into a tight embrace. “you got this, okay? take a few deep breaths. and if that bitch tries anything give me a call and i‘ll mess her up real good.“

sick to the stomach y/n just nodded, trying to put on a somewhat confident expression but very obviously failing. ningning pushed her towards the street and winked.

“now go! your draddy is waiting.“

jay opened the door of the passenger seat for her and gestured for her to go in. “m‘lady.“

y/n curtsied. “lord farquaad.“

he blinked at her for a second, expressionless, then just walked away without closing the door.

the drive was unbearably awkward. like i-just-caught-you-and-my-mom-doing-the-hanky-panky-on-the-kitchen-table awkward. obviously that‘s not what had happened. for y/n‘s part, she didn‘t know how to talk to him at all now that he had started avoiding her like the pest.

“so…,“ said jay.

“so…,“ echoed y/n.

“you look good tonight.“

“wow, did mr. park forget all the roasts he prepared for tonight or is he just saving them for later?“

“no, i mean it. you do look really nice. not that you don‘t usually look good. i like your usual style. it‘s cute. i mean,“ he started stammering, “objectively your dress is a good length. not too long for the conservative and not too short for the party people. anyone would like the dress. so i do too. yes, since i‘m part of anyone too. and it‘s a nice shade of blue too. the best shade of blue, in my humble opinion. a nice midnight blue.“

y/n stared at him confused. “are you sick?“

“no, i‘m totally fine. why are you asking?“ he cleared his throat and fixed his already fixed tie for the tenth time.

“because you‘re rambling nonsense. god, that was so awkward. why are we always so awkward?“

another not less awkward laugh left his lips. “i guess it needs some time getting used to this whole friend thing.“

oh. yeah. how could she have forgotten that she moved from the enemy zone to the friend zone? so nice. silence overcame the car yet again.

“you look good too,“ she bursted out. he was nice to her, or at least trying to, so she should return the favor. it wasn‘t a lie either. jay always looked like perfection personified but just something about jay in a suit hit different.

their final destination was not too far away. they passed jay‘s neighborhood and entered an even wealthier and fancier one (how that was possible was beyond y/n‘s comprehension). they entered the estate through a gigantic iron gate and then drove through an arrangement of the most beautiful gardens and then parked around the water fountain.

jay, ever the gentleman again, opened the door for her and held out his hand.

“last call. we could still make a run for it if we wanted to.“

she accepted his outstretched hand and got out of the car. “we can do this.“

the place was streaming with hundreds of guests. the pair tried to blend in with the masses, silently hoping to not be discovered by anyone they knew. y/n had never seen that many rich people all in the same spot. it made her realize that no amount of money could buy you a good sense of fashion. jay could probably even make a plastic bag look hot on him but he knew how to dress himself and was just lucky enough to do so with clothes made out of high-quality materials. still, y/n with her $5 dress on sale looked classier than the majority of people inside this mansion.

even jay looked out of place in this room full of rich people. he was completely tensed up and y/n had to pretend that his iron grip on her hand didn‘t hurt a little. he wandered around aimlessly for a bit but then stopped dead in his tracks.

“they‘re right there.“ he nodded in the vague direction of “right there“, which meant by the bar completely covered in gold. “they“ meaning his parents who were in conversation with a tall, brunette woman and a girl with piercing blue eyes.

“you know what? maybe we should just go.“ his voice was shaking slightly.

as they turned around they almost crashed into the chest of a very tall woman. she raised her pink handbag, matching her all-pink outfit, in which sat a tiny chihuahua with a bow tied around its neck.

“oh, jay jay! we‘ve been looking for you. where are you going? your parents are standing right there talking to the gilmores. we all thought that you‘d be engaged to miss rory by now since your families are so close but you never seemed to show any interest in girls.“ she paused for a moment, lost in distant thought. “we would have all supported you if you were gay but alas, i hear you‘ve finally found yourself a girlfriend. you must be y/n.“ she shook her hand with passionate enthusiasm. “i have heard all about you, of course. which isn‘t a lot, i have to admit. seems like this boy wanted to keep you all to himself, eh? not even telling her own mother about you. she was ecstatic at the news. her little boy finally in love. and now go introduce her to your parents, jay.“ she shooed them away and they had no choice but to walk towards the golden bar.

the woman, whose name y/n still didn‘t know, gave jay‘s mother a kiss on both cheeks.

“ah, darling jiyoung. how are you doing? your son got lost looking for you so i brought them here. do you see how beautiful a girl jongseong has picked out?“

“indeed!“ exclaimed mrs. park.

y/n held out her hand but mrs. park shook her head. “what nonsense, my dear. come here.“

she was pulled into a spine crushing hug. her sweet perfume infiltrated her nose and the hair of the fur collar was tickling her nostrils. how long had it been since she had last been hugged like this by her own mother? it felt nice in spite of the sensory issues and the fact that the hugger was her fake boyfriend‘s mom whom she just met for the first time.

“welcome to the family, honey. i‘m quite enraged that jay has been hiding such a gem from us for this long. he‘s so mysterious when it comes to you but the burning blush on his face whenever your name is mentioned tells me everything i need to know. i can‘t wait to get to know you better. i‘ll see to have a private dinner arranged for just us.“

overwhelmed but thankful with all the kindness she was being shown y/n smiled warmly.

“that sounds lovely. it‘s so nice to finally meet you, mrs. park.“

she looked almost offended. “my dear, no need for these kind of formalities. please just call me jiyoung! oh, and i almost forgot: this is james, my loving husband“

the stern-looking man by her side had not uttered a single syllable since they had arrived but had been attentively watching her with furrowed eyebrows. he eventually held out his hand for her to shake and then his lips formed into a smile.

“i see that my son and the company seem to be in good hands. it’s lovely to meet the girl who has warmed our son’s heart. for a while i feared he‘d be alone forever. seems like he was just waiting for you.“

the task of not getting even more delusional than usual was becoming harder and harder. y/n was on the verge of pulling up twitter to scream on her private account but the urge to make a lasting good impression ultimately won.

then the friendly grilling began. about her aspirations for the future, her hobbies, any allergies, her opinion on hugging trees, and so on. she tried to be as honest and open as possible but she steered away from the topic when the question about her parents came up.

“so, y/n, what is it about my jongseong that you love so much?“

“mom!“ said jay full of indignation. “can you please not?“

“what? i only want to know how you charmed this young lady.“

y/n squeezed his hand to tell him it was alright.

“there are many reasons why i lo–“ she realized what she was saying and dragged out the vowel for a second longer, “–iiike him. first, he is incredibly smart and passionate about the things he loves. his heart burns for the pursuit of knowledge and that‘s why he is so well read too. even if the only books he‘s ever read would be the harry potter saga then that would have been entirely enough to win me over. but he has so much more to offer still. he is also kind and compassionate, even if he might not show it all of the time but it really does shine through and–“ she choked up unwilling, suddenly overcome by emotions she hadn‘t realized had been there, “i‘m so incredibly thankful for his presence in my life. he makes me feel precious and loved and every day i wake up wondering how i could ever repay him.“

her eyes were fixed to the floor, trying very hard to look anywhere but into his or his parents‘ eyes. jay‘s grip on her hand had tightened impossibly more during her little speech so at this point there was barely any blood flowing to her hand anymore. but she‘d never tell him to let go.

jiyoung wiped a little tear from her eyes. “that was beautiful.“

yes, and now can we forget about it, y/n thought?

“jongseong. y/n,“ came a very unwelcome voice from behind them. she had been hoping for a distraction and that‘s exactly what she got.

“lia,“ muttered jay through gritted teeth.

lia was approaching them with a triumphant smile on her face, her high ponytail wagging from side to side as she strut towards them.

“i see you finally met your boyfriend‘s parents, y/n? isn‘t she such a sweetheart, jiyoung?“ she cooed.

she pinched y/n‘s cheeks and casually put her arm around her shoulder as her body stiffened. send help, seemed to scream her eyes as she looked at jay.

“now, now, jisu.“ a hand appeared on lia‘s shoulder and tore her off y/n. “what did i say about personal space?“ it was a man in a well-tailored dark green suit. y/n froze.

“i told you not to call me that,“ grumbled lia.

“what, your name?“ he laughed. “don‘t be silly.“

his eyes flickered towards y/n who had grown pale as a sheet.

“i know jay, of course, but would you mind introducing me to your young friend here?“

“dad,“ y/n whispered.

“hmm, dad is a very interesting name indeed,“ he mused.

lia‘s eyes were widened in shock. “what did you just say?“

“you can‘t even recognize your own daughter? wow, i shouldn‘t be as surprised as i am right now. maybe if you had stayed to see your kids for longer than just kindergarten then you would know who i am.“ y/n‘s fingernails were digging into her palms.

realization dawned on his face. “y/m.“

“it‘s y/n, you scumbag,“ she hissed. “but I wouldn‘t expect you to know.“

“hope your mother’s doing well.“ he could shove is fake sympathy up his ass for all y/n cared.

“thanks to you no one is doing well. i hope you’re happy.“ the last words came out choked as tears welled up in her eyes.

he stepped closer with open arms.

“don’t touch me,“ she yelled. “don’t act like you care. you’re not my father.“

she stormed off. it was too much. seeing her father and him acting like he hadn’t ruined her life. y/n was trying to find the damn exit to this place but with the masses of people swarming about and the tears swimming in her eyes it was hard to see. she could hear jay calling her name as she made her way through the mansion.

she mumbled half-hearted apologies as she bumped into people. the room was spinning and no matter how many times she gasped for air, her lungs couldn’t get enough. she finally saw the golden-adorned door and made a run for it, stumbling her way towards it, but not even fresh air and the newfound space could make the aching in her heart stop.

taking the car was not an option so she opted to run further into the grounds where the woods were. she ran as far as her lungs would allow but they were burning and everything was spinning. she didn‘t get far before collapsing by a tree, dark spots dancing in front of her eyes.

she let out a wallowing sound, clawing at her chest.

“y/n?“ the girl didn‘t look up. breathing got harder with every breath she tried to take. she felt like she had been thrust into the atmosphere of an entire new planet.

jay knelt down in front of her on the dirty, muddy ground.

“look at me.“

she shook her head.

“look at me.“ he repeated firmly. her eyes met his. through the panic she barely registered the mix of fury, worry, and sadness meeting in his eyes. he gently took her hands in his.

“try to breathe with me. you can do it. ready? inhale,“ he took a deep breath, “and exhale.“ he breathed out. y/n tried to copy him but her breathing was too sporadic and she couldn‘t get it under control.

after a couple more attempts he asked her to close her eyes. at this point she was so dizzy that she followed him without question.

he guided her hands to his stomach where he placed them. he repeated the same mantra, only now could she also feel the way his stomach expanded and contracted with every breath.

jay was patient. it took around ten minutes for y/n‘s breathing to start resembling a pattern again. jay was drawing circles on her hands throughout the entire process. his fingers were slightly trembling. she slipped her hand out of his.

“y/n…“

“no. closer, please.“ the desperation in her voice made his heart ache. without question he engulfed her into a secure hug and she clung on for dear life.

they stayed like this, him stroking her back, as their breathing finally started to sync.

“i know you probably don‘t but if you want to talk about what happened then please go ahead. i‘m here to listen.“

y/n bit her bloody lip from chewing on it too much and finally remove herself from his embrace. it was jay they were talking about here. her enemy. her fake boyfriend. the guy who had looked down upon her for years. jay… who had run after her and helped her through a panic attack. jay who had let her cry for hours on his shoulder, ruining his white shirt with her tears and his dress pants in the mud. jay.

“my dad never married my mom,“ she started. “she was hired to clean his house. he is or he used to be, i don‘t really know, a powerful, stinking rich CEO who didn‘t have to pick his own nose because he could always hire someone to do it for him. my mom grew up poor and took on various jobs for money. she was hired at his house to do the cleaning but then when he started touching her, promising a higher pay, who was she to say no? he was also apparently quite handsome and charming in his earlier years so she was infatuated with him anyway. she inevitably became pregnant. she told him the news, secretly hoping he would care enough for her or at least for the baby. instead, he made her sign a contract to keep silent and to never come near him again. in exchange she received an envelope with a little bit of money.

“so my mother was left with me and barely any money to cover the costs piling up. we got evicted as she couldn‘t pay the rent so we were homeless for a while. a mother and her 10 month old child living on the street. it was an especially harsh winter and i got very sick. we had been sleeping under bridges and in tunnels and were unable to escape the cold winds of the season. a dangerous fever seized me and i almost died. my mother went to the only place she knew to call for help, setting aside her pride and the contract she had signed. my father was close to turning her away but not even his stone cold heart could have a baby‘s death on its conscience. he caved in and paid for all the medical expenses and i was able to recover.

“he let her stay, taking care of financial matters while she continued to clean his house in return. my mom got pregnant again and nine months later jung– my brother was born. he didn‘t send her away the second time. he might have not been very present in our lives but i still grew up with memories of him pushing me on the swing or dressing up my infant brother in suit and tie. i thought we were happy. turns out life would have been a lot easier if i had just died that winter.

“before I even started elementary school, he kicked us out. said that he found out he had another daughter and it‘s pretty obvious that he had sorted out his priorities. he kicked us out without notice, just told my mom that he had arranged a job position for her and had bought a small house for us to live in. we were not to contact him or his family ever again. i never expected that i‘d one day i‘d just run into him.“

jay made a thoughtful humming sound. “i think i get it now. your hatred for rich people. why you hate me.“

“i don‘t hate you.“

“but you did. i never knew what i had done. we got along really well the first few days of freshman year and all of a sudden you started treating me differently. your words were filled with venom every time i tried to talk to you. i was sad. i really wanted to be your friend.“

“i never hated you, i think. at least not really. i hated what you stood for and i guess i was in a way scared of you. i now see that i was stupid. you’re so much more than the status you were born into. the little speech i gave to your mother about why i like you so much? none of it was a lie. i meant every last word. you would never do the things my father so easily did.“

he placed his hands on her shoulders. “never. i swear to all that i love. i‘m not like that man and i will never be. okay?“ his voice had a desperate ring to it, like he needed her to really see him.

she nodded.

“what happened next? to you and your mother?“

the girl sighed and looked away. “my mom started blaming us. if only we had been better children, more lovable, more classy, more intelligent, he would never have left her. she started drinking and getting warnings from work. they were very patient with her, after all they were doing my dad a favor but even that patience had its limit. she lost her job and tried to take on smaller shifts as a cashier but she would either fail to show up or would come completely intoxicated. no one wanted to have her for more than a couple of days and eventually she just gave up. when she‘s not getting drunk at a bar now she‘s busy spending the rest of our money on quick drugs. all you can do is hope that your sleeping is convincing enough when she comes home so she doesn‘t get you.“

“get you? does she–“ y/n nodded before he could finish. she couldn‘t bare to hear it said out loud.

“it‘s not too bad. i mean, i‘ve learned to deal with it even though i would of course rather avoid it. better me than my brother. i know what you‘re thinking. that i‘m a terrible person to not have called the police or child services on her. i beat myself up every single day. i want to keep my brother save but what would happen if he‘s taken away? i‘m almost of age so he wouldn‘t be allowed to stay with me. and you know how the system operates. it would ruin his life. and some days i– i actually manage to feel pity for my mother. she made life a living hell but at least she stayed. if it hadn‘t been for him…“

jay wiped away a tear that was sliding down her face, gently caressing her cheek in the process. “i understand. he really screwed you over, huh?“

a dull chuckle left her lips. “you could say that. lia being this messed up makes a lot of sense now. i still can‘t believe that she‘s supposed to be my half sister. maybe we‘re more similar than I thought.“

jay‘s hand now moved to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “you‘re not messed up. you‘re not a burden either. what you are is special and loving and kind and smart and funny. you are an enrichment to all of our lives. your brother‘s. sunoo‘s. chaeryeong‘s. ningning‘s. jimin‘s. heeseung‘s.“

he glanced at her lips.

“mine.“

y/n was reminded of something.

“since we’re already being honest with each other can i ask you a question?“

“anything,“ he whispered.

“why didn’t you kiss me?“

jay was thrust out of his spell. “what?“

“that day after our first fake date. correct me if i’m wrong but we almost kissed but then you just scadoodled away and things have been so incredibly awkward since. is it– is it because there is someone that you like?“

a soft smile played on his lips. “yeah, there is someone i like so very much and for that reason i couldn’t do it. she has been all i can think about recently. no, that’s a lie. i’ve liked her since the very first day we met.“

y/n tried to swallow but her throat had all dried up, doing her best to ignore the way her heart clenched.

“she is a very lucky girl then to have your attention. why don’t you tell her?“

“i just did.“

“no, silly. i mean the girl you–“ she paused, her eyebrows furrowed.

“oh.“ realization hit her like a truck. “hold on. let’s unpack that for a second. i still think this is some sick joke or something but if you were hypothetically telling the truth then i still don’t get why you couldn’t kiss me.“

“not hypothetically but being very honest, i have to admit that i felt so ashamed after what had happened at sunghoon’s party. i’m aware that you reciprocated the kiss but still, i should not have kissed you. i didn’t have my emotions under control and just took your first kiss like that. it should have been romantic and enjoyable. with someone who would ask you first if it was okay and you would actually like that someone. you didn’t want to talk to me at all afterwards. i thought you hated me, at least more than usual, and i couldn’t bare to repeat the same mistake. i wasn’t aware you wanted me to kiss you that night of the date. i was too scared of my own feelings for you to realize.“

“so he’s a gentleman,“ y/n teased. “didn’t want to give the girl he liked a goodbye peck on the lips after almost swallowing her whole in a basement.“

he cringed. “don’t say it like that but… basically, ehm, i guess that’s pretty accurate?“

“so you really do like me?“ she asked, still thinking she must have hit her head earlier.

“very much so.“

“are you sure?“

“a hundred percent.“

“positive?“

“not for much longer if you keep on doubting me,“ he huffed.

“okay, okay. just one more question: when you say “like“ do you mean it in a romantic way or just platonically? like you would love your bro?“

“in a way that makes my heart beat faster whenever i see you smile and suddenly i make it my mission in life to make you happy.“

“soo,“ she began, “if i asked you to kiss me right now because that would make me incredibly happy you would grant my wish?“

“with pleasure. but if this is a real question than i need you to answer one of my own too. do you have feelings for me too?“

“oh honey,“ she laughed, “you should see my private account i made in freshman year for the sole purpose of having a place to scream about how awesome you are and how much of a crush i had on you. the same account has recently been revived for the same purposes. my friends really do hate me now. i hope that answers your question.“

he grinned, obviously satisfied. “it does. but i want you to say it.“

y/n shot him a reproachful look.

“i like you, okay? in a way that has you as my first thought when i wake up and the last when i fall asleep. in that i never want to hurt you again and that i would sell my soul to have great conversation with you while cooking together.“

jay pulled her onto his lap and her arms automatically wrapped around his neck as his hands found their place on her hips. they sat so close, the tips of their noses barely touching.

“may i kiss you?“ he breathed against her lips.

“please.“

his lips were soft and moving gently as he pressed them on hers. it was nothing like the kiss they had shared in the basement, which had been full of confusing emotions and impatience. this one was unhurried and slow. it was their souls finally making peace and uniting.

the kiss didn’t last all too long. both smiled as they exchanged short, sweet kisses, barely containing themselves from giggling like little kids.

he leaned his forehead against hers. “is it too early to ask you if i can be your boyfriend?“

“only if it’s too early for me to say yes.“

jay closed his eyes. “stay over tonight.“

“wow, wow, wow, there, mister. moving a bit fast now, are we?“ she nudged him playfully.

ignoring her remark with a roll of his eyes he cupped her face in his hands. “i don’t want you to go back to that house. not ever again. i want to be sure that wherever you are you‘re save and loved. so please don‘t go,“ he pleaded earnestly.

“okay,“ she whispered. “but only for tonight. i can‘t leave my brother there all by himself.“

“we‘ll get him out of there too,“ jay promised.

that made her remember a very important fact that she had tried to push to the back of her mind.

“ehm, jay?“ he hummed. “you remember my brother?“

“jungwon? yeah. we‘re pretty well acquainted.“

“exactly! you see– wait a damn minute. did you just say jungwon?“

“i figured you were finally fessing up so i thought i would make it easier for you.“

“you– you– i‘m absolutely flabbergasted.“ she scoffed. “you knew?? and never said a word? how on earth did you even find out?“

he scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile playing on his lips.

“jungwon would always draw this cat sitting on a cloud with the moon in the background and a tiny little fish swimming around. i know for a fact that he designed it himself – he was very proud of it – and i couldn‘t help but notice you had the very same cat drawn on your cast (which, by the way, is a whole other conversation for another day) which made me suspicious. further hints just proved my theory. i‘m so sorry but it would have been impossible to ignore all the times you, him, and your friends almost slipped up. and him as stephanie from lazy town was the final proof i needed. truly uncanny.“

y/n hummed, completely lost in his eyes. “do that again. that was really sexy.“

“i was just talking?“

“exactly. casually proving you‘re smarter and way more observant than everyone else. kinda makes me want to relive the basement scenario.“

she overdramatically bit her lip and wiggled her eyebrows at him but all she got back was a light smack on the arm.

“but wait! so you‘re not mad then?“

y/n had always thought jay would be furious once he found out but she felt like something didn‘t add up now.

he furrowed his eyebrows. “of course not. why would I be? i love jungwon and i lo–iiiiike you too. two in one.“

she made a face. “don‘t even think about dating my brother. but… i don‘t know. i just thought that since you hated me you would kick him off the team the second you found out but as i‘m talking i realize my error because you never actually hated me.“ she sighed. “i can‘t believe i was so wrong about you.“

she snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his shoulders.

“i‘m so sorry. for everything.“

he started lightly rubbing her back with one hand. “it‘s okay. there really is nothing to apologize for. we were both dickheads at times. but look at us now! we learned and grew us people. besides, i wouldn‘t have it any other way if that meant i wouldn‘t get to hold you in my arms now.“

that sounded nice. feeling save and protected was an incredible feeling. it‘s been so very long. y/n suddenly realized just how tired she was. she was completely spent from crying and all the drama and confessions of the evening that she almost fell asleep right here and there.

“come on, sleepyhead. let‘s get you home.“

and take her home he did. to his. to theirs.

they didn‘t let go of each other throughout the entire night. it was the first time in a while that both of them were welcomed by peaceful dreams.

a/n: if you're reading this you're hereby legally obliged to tell me what you think!! did we expect this at all? i had this planned since the beginning so writing it felt kind of scary since that would mean we've almost reached the end. but I had so much fun writing this so I would really appreciate it if you could share your thoughts with me <3

< previous | next >

masterlist

summary: y/n hates rich people and park jongseong is no exception. they have been academic rivals since freshman year (which he doesn't like to acknowledge) and always argue about the dumbest of things. but what happens when y/n's brother jungwon joins the dance team led by jay and their friend groups begin to mingle?

taglist 1:

@sophiko22 @missmadwoman @jungwons-rat @msxflower @minato-ariato @person-standing @blessed-sky @honeyhuii @yaeluvz @jaywonlix @nar-nia @bekah931215 @sirephines @revemixer @jjhmk @heelariously @ddeonuism @fylithia @dxlicateee @acciomylove @kyleeanne @solitxre @strwbryparfait @beibybtch @tomorrowbymoa-together @vantxx95 @sunshineshouchan @winter-berries @lilacboba @chewnotgyu @chaeflms @wondering-out-loud @wonniesimp @dinosdance @3ggieyolk @sunbokie @sadmusiclovs @zhaixiaowen @seollyeong @staerrymariam @sol123recs @bigtoewinwin @enhasengene @centheodd @joti17 @soobin-chois @jungwonswifex @sweetjaemss @indelicate-macalino @chiyuv

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rainbowdelicgalore · 2 years ago

Text

Two Red Ferns (A Bride of Chucky Alternate Ending)

Warnings: Vomiting, Pregnancy, Childbirth

Genre: Alternate Ending/Fix-It Fic

Words: 2,803

"What would Martha Stewart say"?

"Fuck Martha Stewart! Martha Stewart can kiss my shiny, plastic bu"-!

Chucky and Tiffany were just in the middle of a fight over the dishes when a sudden feeling of nausea overcame Tiffany, making her feel so ill it even clouded her mind as she attempted to make it stop by standing still and holding her hand over her mouth.

This attempt was futile as Tiffany swiftly turned over to Jade's direction as the doll proceeded to vomit all over Jade's rope-bound lap.

Screams from the puke covered teen immediately filled the moving RV as Chucky started speeding over to his wife's aide, not caring to keep the gun he had on Jesse who was still currently driving, his hopes of escape evacuating as Tiffany "lunch" did.

"Tiffany!! Jesus Christ are you okay?! Goddammit, why didn't ya tell me you were gonna be feeling like this"?!

Chucky was currently checking over his ailing wife as she still felt nauseous and light headed, now all Tiffany wanted to do was lay down and just forget about everything.

"I guess you're right, Sweetface… I think I am a shitty baker"...

She chuckled, hoping that at least joking about one of the things her husband started their argument over would make them both feel better. Chucky sighed in response, feeling remorseful about trashing her baking earlier.

"No Tiff… I don't think it's that at all… I've been noticing how different you've been acting since this morning"...

He had been keeping it to himself to not seem too "soft" but had been noticing Tiffany was hiding herself frequently in the bathroom of the hotel and the RV. Hell, they had to pull over the van so many times for Tiffany before they found the RV. The one reason they took the RV was so Tiffany could have a bathroom at any time she wanted.

For the first time in a very long time, Chucky felt sheer terror course through his whole body as she started to help Tiffany up and pointed the gun he still had in his hand at Jesse and started to shout commands at him, partly to mask the fear he felt for his beloved wife.

"Pull over and clean this fuckin' mess"!!

The RV then came to a screeching halt, Jesse rushing over to his distraught wife Jade while the scar-faced doll helped his now fatigued wife walk over to the passenger seat in the front of the vehicle and sat right next to her on the car seat as well since they both were able to fit in there at once. All the while, he kept the gun pointed at the terrified teenagers to keep them under the killer doll's thumb.

After a while of Jesse cleaning up Jade's lap and Chucky continuing to sooth and rubbing Tiffany's side as she groaned in discomfort, Chucky signaled Jesse to get back to the driver's seat and start driving again. Having no other choice, Jesse reluctantly followed the stitch covered doll's commands and started to drive once more.

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

As a half hour of the group driving down the dark moonlit highway, Chucky still kept the gun pointed right at Jesse while he rubbed gently on Tiffany's arm with the other.

Sweat began to drip down the gothic dressed doll's brow, she had began to feel slightly hot and her nausea started to stir again. All Tiffany could do was moan in great discomfort, this made the red headed killer's scarred up face furrow in deep concern for her well-being.

"Fuck Tiff… I'm sorry for ignoring you for this long"...

Chucky held her close as he whispered his apology.

"No… I should be the one saying sorry, Sweetheart"...

Tiffany reassured her husband with a tired smile, it falling as she continued.

"I was trying to hide… What was going on from you… I was scared"...

"Tiff… You gotta tell be about this kind of shit".

Chucky gently but firmly told Tiffany in response.

"Well, whatever you think is happening, it can't be that bad"!

Tiffany chuckled hesitantly as she started to get anxious over how Chucky would react, however once her scar-faced husband started rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand affectionatly, she calmed down and took a deep breath before saying:

"I think I might be pregnant".

With only six words, it caused the entire RV to fall into complete silence.

It had stunned Chucky into an utter stupor, his eyes as wide as the dinner plates that were in the sink.

He could not believe it, how could this possibly happen?

After a minute of pondering the question, he remembered their "endeavor" they had the night before. Well, that didn't matter to him anymore, all he cared about as his wife.

He then pulled Tiffany into a warm, tight embrace.

"Don't worry, Tiff… We can figure this out once we find out if you're right".

He then quickly turned to Jesse with a rage filled expression as he commanded the makeshift chauffeur in a loud, harsh and demanding tone.

"Take us to a store where we can find pregnancy tests, now"!

Fear now filled the teenage boy's body once again as he sped their vehicle along the dark road.

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

It took another half hour for them to finally find a small convenience store that was on the side of the highway, it also seemed like it was made of old wood.

"Don't you fucking move"!

Chucky growled at the two hostages as both he and Tiffany stepped out of the RV and headed towards the store.

It was pretty easy for them to break in, all Chucky has to do was shoot the glass off the door to pass through and swiftly kill the owner who was manning the counter with a bullet in the head. After that, they both searched the store for what they came for. It didn't take long for Tiffany to find a pregnancy test, so she grabbed it and proceeded from the aisle to the bathroom that was in the employee's office behind the counter.

Meanwhile Chucky took the time he had to wait to check if Jesse and Jade were still there with their ride, when he came outside and saw no RV where he last saw, he began to panic.

"SHIT, SHIT, SHIT, SHIT FUUUCCK"!!

The angered doll roared in a deep rage into the dark empty highway. Jesse and Jade had took the opportunity they had to finally escape. They were long gone by now. Grumbling in frustration, he dragged himself back to the store and started to pace outside the bathroom door, waiting for his wife to tell him whatever news they'll end up having.

It felt like forever to Chucky when Tiffany had finally come out of the bathroom, her eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth as her other hand quickly shoved the test into Chucky's grasp. Puzzled, he looked at the results as his eyes widened in the same manner as Tiffany's. It was positive, Tiffany was pregnant.

Chucky's mouth as agape as sheer surprise and shock overwhelmed his senses. This was replaced with worry over his wife as her eyes started to well with tears, fearing what Chucky would say, he gave her a tight hug.

"I don't care that we're dolls, I don't care about what's happened the past three days, I don't care that our human bodies and ride are gone now, I don't even want to be human anymore! All I care about now is you, Tiff! I married you, so I'll be with you through thick and fuckin' thin no matter what! I love you Tiffany, if we have to figure this all out we will. Plus if we stay dolls, it'll be a helluva lot easier to hide and get away with shit! Plus you don't get sick or old…! Just know that we can do this together"...

The gothic blonde started to cry in sheer emotion as she smiled and hugged her husband back.

"Oh Chucky, I love you so much… I'm so happy I have a tough, but sweet man like you, Sweet face".

She then gave him a passionate kiss they both locked into in an instance. It went on like this for a couple minutes until the part Chucky told her about Jesse and Jade finally started to sink in.

"Wait… What did you say happened to Jesse and Jade"?

Tiffany asked as Chucky nervously chuckled in response.

"Well"....

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

It had been two days since Chucky and Tiffany had taken shelter in the convenience store until their child's birth. It only took a "closed for maintenance" sign they put in front of the door to keep what little cars that came down the road away from the store. Tiffany was currently in a makeshift bed they made out of random sheets found around the store's inventory, her belly being very swollen and plump. Thanks to voodoo pregnancy, she had been progressing faster than both of them could've ever thought.

Chucky had rarely left his wife's side as he was overwhelmed with the need to watch over her and keep her and his unborn baby safe and provided for, since the store already had food there, it made this task easy for him.

The read headed doll as sitting at the edge of the bed next to his wife, slowly and tenderly running his hand on her side as she laid there.

"How ya feelin' right now, Hun"?

Chucky asked Tiffany in a soft, sweet whisper that he rarely, if ever used with anyone.

"I'm doing okay, Sweet face… I just wish I could get up and walk by myself"...

Tiffany tiredly, but softly answered as she grunted at the discomfort her big baby bump was causing, it also caused her to be stuck in bed unless Chucky was helping her to the bathroom, making her feel restless on top of her other feelings she was having at this time.

In response, Chucky adjusted his position as he was now laying on the bed on his side. He then started to slowly and lovingly rubbing on the baby bump with his left hand, holding Tiffany's hand with his right.

"Could I have a talk with the kid before they pop outta ya"?

Chucky asked in a lighthearted laugh.

As Tiffany quietly nodded "yes", Chucky moved further down to her side, sitting up next to her rotund belly and laying his head and hands on there, careful not to put any weight on the surface. The to-be-father's stitched up face lit up and chuckled as ye felt their child kick and move around in his wife's womb. Tiffany softly smiled and giggled in joy as she watched, happy to witness this bonding moment.

"Hey there kiddo"...

Chucky whispered.

"God… I can hardly believe that you're gonna be here at any minute. I didn't even think I'd have kids, at least not at this point. I thought that I wouldn't want any at first… I guess deep down, that was only because I don't want to have your innocence taken from ya… like mine was… But I promise that your Daddy's here and will always protect you… I love you, kid".

Chucky then gave a kiss to his wife's belly as he rubbed it with both his hands for a few more minutes, the murderous couple both in pure bliss.

That was until a warm, wet sensation started to spread all over every surface it could reach, including the bottom of the stitched up doll's overalls.

As soon as Chucky felt the warm wetness touch him, he jumped up and off the bed as Tiffany started moaning in pain.

The realization soon hit the both of them: Tiffany's water broke and she was now in labor.

Panicked, Chucky started to prep for the impending birth, briefly stopping to give his wife comfort by giving her a kiss on her cheek and saying:

"It's gonna be okay, Tiff. I'm here… I gotcha".

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

The labor had started in the late afternoon and as the grueling process continued, it had lasted into the night, the moon and a lamp in the office being the only light sources for the couple.

At this point Tiffany was in horrific pain, she felt like every fiber of her being was being torn apart.

"AAAAA FUUUCCCKK!!! CHUCKY… I DON'T KNOW HOW LONG IF I CAN FUCKING DO THIS FOR"!!!

Tiffany wailed at the top of her lungs in sheer agony. Chucky held onto her left leg and rubbed it comfortingly as he checked the progress of the labor.

"I know it hurts, but I know that you can do this Tiff! I can almost see their head so we're almost there"!

And after Tiffany gave a few more pushes, a shrill cry rang out as their blood and fluid covered infant managed to plop into Chucky's arms.

Chucky sighed in relief as he cut the umbilical cord with his knife he kept in his overalls and cleaned up the tiny newborn, checking their gender in the process as he swaddled them in a soft cloth that was big enough to be a blanket.

"It's a boy, Tiff! It's a boy"!

The new father exclaimed in excitement, handing the newly wrapped bundle of joy to his tired, but smiling wife. This peace didn't last as Tiffany started to scream in surprise and pain as she felt more, contractions?

"C-Chucky… I think there's another one coming"....

Tiffany gritted through her teeth.

In disbelief, Chucky went back to the end of the bed to check. Sure enough, there was a second head trying to make its way out and into the world.

After a minute or two of even more pushing, a second baby came to existence as they loudly cried.

With a worn out face of relief and happiness, Chucky cut the cord and checked over the second infant.

"This one's a girl… Quite the mayhem she caused for a minute, huh"?

He chuckled tiredly as he wrapped his new daughter in another soft cloth for a blanket and handed her to his exhausted but overjoyed wife. Tears of pure joy streamed across her face as she looked into the eyes of her brand new little ones.

"Hello my sweet precious babies… I'm your Mommy".

She tenderly greeted as she gave both babies a soft kiss on their foreheads.

After cleaning up after everything again, Chucky slowly walked over to the unoccupied side of the bed and laid himself there next to Tiffany. He could believe they just had twins, two babies!

He stared in awe at the family he had managed to create, for the first time in his life, he was utterly amazed by life itself and what it could make.

"Could I hold one of them, Tiff"?

He asked in a shy voice he had never used before, ever.

Smiling, Tiffany sat up in the bed and handed the baby boy to her husband's nervously waiting arms, while holding their baby girl close to her chest.

Holding his baby boy close to his chest as well, Chucky nervously chuckled, looking into his son's deep blue eyes and smiled.

"Hey there kiddo… It's good to finally meet ya… I'm your Daddy and I'll always be here for ya"!

The new father laughed happily as he gave his son a soft kiss on the forehead, also having his finger be held by the infant's tiny hand.

"What do you think we should name them, Sweet face"?

Tiffany asked her husband with a soft smile.

"Well, since there's two, we won't have to fight much about names"...

Chucky joked back as he thought for a minute to come up with a name for his son.

"I'm thinking of the name Glen for him! What do you think"?

"If you're thinking of that, it reminded me of this movie we saw when we were teenagers! Maybe I could name our daughter Glenda if he's going to be Glen".

Tiffany's mention of that movie they saw so long ago made Chucky chuckle about the nostalgia of that memory, they both thought about it for a moment as Chucky broke the silence.

"I think that's perfect, Tiff".

"I think so too, Hun".

Tiffany then leaned towards Chucky and gave him one of their trademark passionate kisses on his lips, him kissing back in response. They pulled away as they both looked lovingly at their son and daughter, admiring every single part of their being, as if they were two beautiful red ferns.

To them now, being dolls, the fights they had, the bullshit they went through, none of it mattered anymore. They both had each other and their new little ones, that was all they needed.

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

The End!

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nonobadcat · 3 years ago

Photo

YANDERE ALL FOR ONE X FEMALE READER

Rating: For readers 18+ only

Entire Story TW: Noncon/DubCon, gore (non-reader directed), numerous kinks. Highly mentally and sexually abusive relationship. This story is absolutely not for minors and readers should consult the warnings/tags at the top before reading.

This chapter’s TW: Dub-Con Oral, mentions of past trauma, AFO calls himself “daddy” unironically

Read the entire story at: Archive of Our Own

Chapter 55 Excerpt:

The plush nylon carpet beneath your body made your skin itch. Hands clamped over your ears, you curled your knees into your chest and wedged yourself against the closet wall. Eyes tight shut, your teeth chattered as you tried not to listen to the conversation in the bedroom. All For One’s cheerful glee refused to give you peace. It cut through your head like an arrow to the heart.

“It’s hard to say for certain, doctor. The ‘Read Ability’ quirk said that she drew out a triple the hours she gave, but the aging process seemed very excessive for that amount. The patch that turned grey was nearly two by two centimeters!”

So you could give sleep in hours, but you were stealing life days? What kind of monster had he made you?

“I’ll take her out shopping this weekend to see if the passive effect is still in play. Hopefully so. Frankly, I’m unwilling to share her touch with others.”

Things that shock no one: A man named “All For One” doesn’t like to share.

“Of course I’ll keep you updated. I called you right when I got home, didn’t I?”

Dang near bounced off to do it too. Those two talked more than a bunch of high school gossips.

“Take care and let me know when you get the tanks set up.”

Hope you drown in them you stupid little troll.

The clatter of plastic on the nightstand was followed by the ruffling of soft fibers. A shadow fell over your balled-up body. There was a low hum from your villainous husband. Long legs and big feet came to a standstill by your side. A warm hand reached out and shook your shoulder. You wrenched it out of his fingers and buried your chin in your neck.

“Come now, my dear. Are you still in a mood?”

You gritted your teeth and refused to look at him.

Your husband took a seat beside you, toying with the clasp on your necklace. Hot breath whispered over the shell of your ear. “Why don’t we pick up where we left off in the car?” His hand trailed down your neck, slipping along the side of your body. “As I recall you asked me to 'eat you, scumbag'.” He grinned. “I don’t believe we ever got that far.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re clearly angry.” He hoisted you against his chest.

"Gee, can't imagine why," you muttered.

In his lap, a firm bulge pressed against your backside. “Let me cheer you up,” he murmured, nibbling at your neck.

"You just made me into a life-stealing monster." You pressed your palm flat into his face, bending his pointed nose as you shoved him off your throat. "Do you really think that turns me on?"

"It turns me on," he mumbled into your skin.

…great. Of course it did.

"Leave." Shove. "Me." Shove. "Alone!"

Thick arms locked tight around your ribs. "You don't mean that," he teased, grinning his fangs into your neck.

"Like heck I don't!" You fired back.

He tickled his way along your chest, tracing circles into your shirt. "I know you're upset now but give it time" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "Once you realize what a gift I gave you, you'll feel better."

Read the rest at: Archive of Our Own

@averydrunksatyr @shigashig @shig-a-shig-ah @weo0o @feral-creep @raygard-elvets @awkward-confused @vizhi0n @dokoni-mo @the-lady-writes-what @all4one @avelaste @diowithagun @yeunsstuff @river-to-swim-forever @lizthewitchh @0-ddball @catalystgaming27 @cityscapingly @imdatingyourdad @gxmblinqueen @villaincxmdump @yandereloveraw @seijohmilktea @kermitthekrog-blog @toughbook @fgkween

#afo x reader #all for one x reader #yandere bnha #shigaraki x reader #yandere afo x reader #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere bnha x reader #yandere afo #afo bnha #all for one bnha

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subwaysurf45 · 3 years ago

Text

Winter Makes Ice (Ep.3)

Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title.

Words: 2799

Episode: Three

Warning: not much, flashbacks, talks of violence

Masterlist! Winter Makes Ice Episode: Two

Time: 1:00pm

Date: October 2nd 2024

It didn’t take long for everyone to board the helicopter and for it to take off, no one was lounging around this morning so they assembled quickly. Bucky sat by himself on the heli, the file was still open in his hands with the page turned to Dr. Wright. Bucky looked over the information that was given; he double and triple checked. There was a car waiting for them when they were going to arrive, Bucky would get dropped off and then Steve, Nat, and Wanda would drive around Halifax but would keep watch for a distress signal. Bucky made it clear it would only be him talking to the doctor, he was practicing his script in his head.

“Five minutes ‘till landing,” the pilot spoke into his headset, the sound went to their ears sounding like a 1940s radio show.

“Copy,” everyone replied without unison.

The plane got lower and lower until it touched the ground; it was a private tarmac for primarily military forces and other important people; SHIELD was always allowed to use it. Everyone got off the plane after the propellers began to slow down, Bucky had jumped off once while they were still at top speed and got flung forward but the air. The all black car stood a ways in front of them, they all took their bags and headed over.

“What a ride…” Steve muttered as he ran his hand against the perfect hood, this car was brand new and probably had never been in the sun before. It wasn’t a low sport car but rather an everyday car that was bullet proof and decked out with an AI on the inside, no one would take a second glance at it but the four of them marveled at how this car could fit in amongst others. The black rims matched the black tires and the black paint, this was Bucky’s dream car.

They all got in and the ride began, Steve drove while Wanda sat in the back with Bucky, Nat was in the passenger seat playing her music. Every so often Wanda would look over to Bucky, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, she’d give a sympathetic glance and maybe open her mouth as if she was about to say something but chose against it. Bucky had Dr. Wright’s address on the file sheet; he was giving directions to Steve as they drove through the colourful houses.

They had never seen houses like this, around four to five houses lined up next to each other, each of them were painted a different colour but they looked the same. Flowers grew in little holders under the two window sills at the front of the house, tulips were the most popular, vines would grow on the side where the sun didn’t shine too much and pain would chip around the bottom of the houses. Some houses still had Halloween decorations up, red leaves scattered on the ground and blew everywhere. There was a brown hue to the world around them, pumpkins were scattered on some door steps while other people still had Christmas lights up from last year.

Bucky tapped Steve’s head rest and the car slowed to a stop, they looked out to their left to see a house that looked like it belonged to the community. It wasn’t modern and square with sleek grey tiles on the outside, it was old and run down. A ghost hung from the single garage light, one pumpkin was sitting on the doorstep. This house didn’t look like one of a nazi group member, nevermind just a person with their doctorate.

Tons of leaves crunched under Bucky’s combat boots, the road was littered with them, it made it seem like it was a red and yellow road. He looked both ways as he crossed even though no cars were on the road except for the military grade undercover car, Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Wanda waving. They were going to head to a farmers market in this town to pass the time, and Bucky would walk over there when he was done. He gave a thumbs up and the car drove away and down the street, he didn’t watch to see it disappear, Bucky only had one thing on his mind and it wasn’t some apple pies Wanda was looking for.

The driveway looked new as well as the cobblestone walkway, one car was in the driveway and it looked to match the house, no crazy sports car. There was a screen door before an actual green wooden door, Bucky pulled back the screen and didn’t bother with the doorbell, he banged on the door. When he pulled his fist away there was a flake of green paint on his middle finger’s knuckle, a quick swipe and it was gone. Bucky stood back because he saw that in the movies, his back turned to the door as he looked out to the town. It was a lovely day, most people were probably at this farmer’s market, Bucky had never been to one even though you had offered to take him.

His head whipped back at the door opening, the same man, but only older, opened the door. He looked tired and worn out, this was probably his last Halloween. The cane he was holding was shaking in his grip, the other hand gripped the side of the door extremely tight. You could see the white through the speckled skin.

“What can I help you with, son?” the old man spoke with a smile, he licked his gums. A Canadian accent seemed almost cartoon-ish.

Bucky froze as he looked at this man, the sight of him brought him back to his nightmares and everything he’d been through. The name ‘son’ rolled off this man’s tongue and down Bucky’s spine and sent a shiver running all through him, it was obvious this man didn’t know who Bucky was. Bucky almost felt bad that he was bothering him, it was obvious he wasn’t a walker and standing seemed to be his exercise for the day, but at the same time Bucky couldn’t help but think about all the ways he could rip this doctor apart.

“Son?” the name came again.

Bucky looked up with a shake of his head, “hello, are you Dr. Wright?” he asked quietly.

“Yes it is, what do you need?” he didn’t seem freaked out that Bucky knew his name, it was a small town.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky started but the man didn’t seem to figure it out, “I am the Winter Soldier- used to be actually…” Bucky added.

“Are you here to kill me?” the man’s voice shook, “because if you really are him then you have every right to do so,” he stepped back and opened the door for Bucky to walk in.

“I’m here to talk, you’re not going to die.” Bucky walked in and kicked off his combat boots, he’d heard it’s a thing in Canada to take your shoes off in the house. He also heard there was bagged milk which didn’t make any sense to him, but he wasn’t about to argue.

“That’s always good to hear, eh?” the accent slipped out again, it was weird for Bucky to see this man who haunted him just laughing. “Would you like some hot chocolate?” Dr. Wright asked as he made his way into the kitchen.

His house was small, not many walls as one room just faded into another. Knick-knacks littered shelves and tables, everything brought a homey feel to it all, the house was very lived in. “No thanks,” Bucky waved up a hand to signal no.

The doctor came and sat across from him, Bucky was sitting on a chair while Dr. Wright took the sofa, they both were wrapped in plastic. It made a squeaky sound when either of them moved but it didn’t seem to bother the doctor at all, Bucky one final time before swearing he wasn’t going to move again and hear that annoying sound. Both of Bucky’s hands were clasped in front of him, he felt too large and bulky for this petite chair, his fingers fiddled with each other. He’d pick and poke at the massive gloves he wore, his long sleeve was covering everything he needed.

“So, Dr. Wright-”

“Jacob, son,” he corrected, “though I am a doctor,” Jacob hesitated, “I go by Jacob.”

“Is that your real first name?” Bucky asked, he was met with a smile and nod, “then call me Bucky, please.” Bucky smiled back, there was a growing tension between the both of them but they chose to ignore it.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.” Jacob seemed to relax at the name, he was scared of Bucky and Bucky could tell. This man had seen Bucky train for years on end, and Jacob knew what the Winter Soldier was capable of. “What do you need to talk to me about?” his cane rested beside him, his hand found its way there and just held it.

“I need to talk to you about Hydra, any information you have on the Iceland base- or any base in Halifax, Iceland, Greenland, and there’s one more…” Bucky brought a gloved hand to his stubbled chin, the leather making a rough noise when it brushed against the facial hair. “Oh! It was Newfoundland, anything you knew about those four places.”

Jacob thought for a moment, he didn’t have stubble to rub. Though he was old it was obvious he still thought that it was the old days, hair slicked back and a very fresh shave, facial hair wasn’t allowed unless you had grown it out in private. Bucky had always remembered Howard Stark’s mustache; he couldn’t picture him without it.

“I mean, I was just a scientist, I ran labs and tested things on animals. I didn’t come up with the world ending plans, I was never told the reason for what I was doing, I was just told to do it.” Jacob sounded worried, “when I used to work for Hydra I was worried for my life everyday, they were so paranoid all the time that someone could be a rat. If you said ‘hail Hydra’ a little too quietly then you’d have a bullet between your eyes, I just kept my head down and did what I was told.” Jacob’s hand got increasingly tighter on the handle of his cane.

“Was there something new they were working on?” Bucky asked, and he pulled out a little flip book to keep track.

“I quit a total of ten years ago, when I was seventy-one, the only thing they were thinking of was keeping you in their grasp, there was no other plan.” Jacob shrugged, “Hydra couldn’t see a life source without you, they never intended on losing you the way they did.”

“So you have no idea what they could possibly be working on, at all?” the hope Bucky had was falling, this was the only lead they knew and if all he could say was there was never a plan B, you were screwed.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I really want to help, but I just don’t know.” Jacob stood and walked back to the kitchen. He filled a glass of water and grabbed three pills from a container before heading back over to his seat.

“Out of the four places I mentioned, Iceland, Greenland, Halifax, and Newfoundland,” Bucky paused and watched Jacob mutter them to himself and then take the pills, “which one is the strongest?”

Jacob swallowed his pills with water, “Iceland.” without any hesitation, no second guess, nothing giving away he was lying for didn’t know. “Iceland was hell for me, it has the best of the best for agents, scientists, and…” he glanced out the window, “cells and tourture.”

Bucky shot up right away, he headed to the door. Jacob followed him, glass still in his hand. When Bucky was about to leave Jacob placed a hand on his shoulder. When Bucky turned back around the hand traveled along the center of his chest, “I'm not wired, Jacob.” Bucky eased.

“Some things just come second nature, son.” Jacob kept his head down, “y’know, I never wanted to hurt you. I thought I was making my old man proud, but I never stopped to realize what I was doing was actually wrong.” Jacob looked up with glossy eyes, “I actually wanted to find you at some point because I know I was the one who woke you up last, I remember clearly the way you looked, right then, I knew I needed to leave that place.” Jacob shuffled over and stood completely square to Bucky, Bucky just looked down at Jacob with a face of horror. The man Bucky saw every night was crying and apologizing to him, he didn’t know anyone who worked with Hydra had a heart. “I’m sorry for everything I did to you,” Jacob reached in his back pocket, he had placed the glass of water on a side table. “Here, take some money-”

“No, none of that, Jacob, really,” Bucky held his hands out, “you’re forgiven, don’t worry about all that, I just need to find someone.” Bucky reached for the door.

“What do you mean?” Jacob fished in his wallet.

“Hydra stole my girlfriend, I think she's in Iceland.” Bucky’s eyebrows knitted together at Jacob who was given him a coin.

“I think you’re right,” Jacob dropped the coin in Bucky’s palm before closing the door, the screen door creaked as it shut quickly with the wind.

Time: 2:33pm

Date: October 2nd 2024

Steve, Nat, and Wanda were walking around on the closed road, stands of every fruit and pastry lined the streets. Wanda was on top of the moon, she had a tote bag with some apple turnovers in them, that was really all she wanted. Nat had actually bought something too, Steve was genuinely surprised when Nat bought some earrings from a vendor, they were very small and dainty moons that would go in her ear lobes. Steve didn’t buy anything but just liked walking around, there was a lot to see but in a good way, no screens or jumbotrons, just people being people.

As Bucky made eye contact with Steve, Steve’s phone rang. Nat and Wanda rushed up to Bucky and were asking how it went, but the unknown caller was what Steve was focusing on.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve lowered his voice.

“Captain Rogers,” an all too familiar voice hit his ear.

“King T’Challa?” Steve turned his back to the group.

“We have three Hydra agents in custody, they tried to take out my sister,” his accent flowed and bounced as he talked.

“Keep them in the cells, we’re on our way.”

“Will there be more of them?” T’Challa asked before he could hang up.

“I don’t know, but hold them and don’t kill them, they might be our only hope.” Steve said his goodbyes and hung up.

When he turned back to Bucky and the rest of them, they seemed scared, Bucky had overheard Steve’s call, super hearing, and was looking at him weird.

“What was that?” Bucky asked.

“King T’Challa, says there was an attempted hit on Shuri, doesn’t know where they came from but they want her.” Steve shoved his phone in his back pocket, “what did you find?”

Bucky just held up a silver coin, “we’re going to Iceland.”

“We need to go to Wakanda,” Steve stepped forward.

“Not all four of us,” Nat pulled everyone aside from the farmer’s market, “I’ll go with Steve to Wakadna, you go with Wanda to Iceland. We’ll be talking and before you ambush the Hydra base in Iceland we’ll confirm y/n is in there, deal?” She looked to the other three.

“Deal.”

Winter Makes Ice tag list: @small-death-and-codeine @commonintrest @buckyys-doll @lil-baby-nor

let me know if you want a tag!

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky angst #bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #bucky barnes series #bucky #bucky x yn #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #winter #winter soldier #winter soldier fluff #winter soldier angst #winter soldier series #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst

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searidings · 4 years ago

Note

Lena's wardrobe planning must be a nightmare. Every day she has to account for the fact that this might finally be the day she and Kara fuck in a semi-public space

*EDIT: now on ao3 for your thirsty convenience*

“Tell me again what this article’s about?”

She asks it innocently, as if she genuinely can’t remember. As if she hadn’t spent an extra 40 minutes this morning dripping in a towel in the middle of her walk-in closet, determined to select the perfect outfit for this very conversation.

The way Kara’s eyes are glued to the exposed lines of her clavicle as she sits down tells her the extra deliberation was entirely worth it.

“It’s just a puff piece,” Kara says offhandedly, taking a seat on the far side of Lena’s desk. Or at least, she tries to take a seat but misses the chair entirely, pitching forward and almost taking half the contents of Lena’s desk with her. It’s only her superspeed that saves Lena’s water jug from its collision course with the ground and Kara rights it with sweaty fingers that leave faint smudges on the glass, blushing.

“Are you alright, darling?” Lena asks gently, biting her lip to keep from smirking as Kara, redder than a fire hydrant, finally takes her seat.

“Fine,” the blonde manages, only a little strangled. “Sorry. Just— misjudged the, you know. Chair.”

“Distracted?” Lena asks coyly, voice dipping a smooth half-octave lower as she arches an eyebrow.

She watches in barely restrained delight as Kara’s throat works. “No,” the blonde manages after a moment. “Just— busy. Articles, deadlines. You know how it is.” She seems to have regained her footing now, smoothing her hands over her slacks before reaching into her purse for a pad and pen. “The article’s another clickbait piece, basically. Dress for success: the wardrobes of women in power. Andrea’s making me write it.”

Kara’s voice drips with so much disgust that Lena purses her lips in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Kara. If there’s anything I can do—”

“Don’t be silly,” Kara says instantly, face breaking into a shy smile. “It means I get to spend the afternoon with you. And your wardrobe has always been very—” she breaks off, hand gesturing in the air between them as though she might be able to pluck the right word out of the ether. “—impressive,” she finishes with a small swallow, eyes delicately averted from the expanse of creamy skin on display before her.

“You think so?”

“Of course,” Kara says quickly. Her still floundering hand drifts back and forth in the air as if to encompass Lena’s general existence. “I’d ask if you dressed up specially for this interview, but honestly you always look like that.”

“Like that?” Lena repeats, a teasing lilt to her tone. She leans back in her office chair, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her dress. This piece, a deep red off-the-shoulder dress with a V-shaped neckline plunging just enough to be borderline workplace inappropriate, had cost more than a small car and been custom-made and shipped to her from an upscale boutique in Paris. Looking now at Kara’s wide eyes and pink cheeks, every last cent of import tax feels absolutely worth it. “Like what, exactly?”

Kara’s jaw snaps shut with an audible click and she stares down at the pad in her hands with such intensity that Lena absently wonders if the offending paper is about to be laser-visioned.

“Shall we start with the questions, then?” Kara says quickly, clicking her ballpoint pen with enough force that it shatters the entire casing. She stares forlornly down at the plastic shards in her palm until Lena clears her throat, passing another pen to the blonde with a wordless smile.

Kara removes the lid from the offered pen with the delicacy and focus of someone disarming a bomb. “I hope you don’t find this insulting,” she says as she turns to a fresh page, finally meeting Lena’s eyes again. “I mean, you’re one of the greatest minds in the country and I’m here to ask you about your clothes.”

“Not at all. Wardrobe planning is an extremely involved affair,” Lena deadpans, tilting her head to one side and relishing the way Kara’s eyes skate the cut of her jaw. “Quantum mechanics is nothing compared to the challenge of pairing the right shirt with the right jacket.”

“Right,” Kara says absently, her gaze fixed on the regal column of Lena’s bare throat. She’d foregone a necklace this morning and pulled her still-curly hair up into a soft bun for this exact purpose; knowing that her natural waves were Kara’s favourite, but knowing too that a dress like this deserved to be unencumbered by loose hair or jewellery to really reach its full potential.

“So, um,” Kara starts before swallowing hard, reaching for the glass of water waiting for her on the desk and downing its contents in one swift gulp. “What’s your, um, selection process? How would you describe your wardrobe requirements?”

One corner of Lena’s mouth tugs upwards. “As a woman in a male-dominated world, I’ve learned to use my wardrobe as a tool. My clothing has to be professional without appearing intimidating, project confidence without audacity. Visual impressions precede all other business dealings; I can tailor my wardrobe to my audience the way I would tailor a speech or a press release. When done correctly, it helps me get what I want.”

Kara is staring at her in rapt attention, eyes flicking rhythmically between Lena’s eyes and mouth. She hasn’t written a single thing on the pad in her lap.

“And of course, I have to be careful in the lab,” Lena continues, leaning forward to fold her hands together on the desk in front of her and squeezing her arms ever so slightly against the sides of her chest. It’s always prudent to take advantage of one’s strengths, and the plunging neckline of this particular outfit leaves no doubt in Lena’s mind as to which of her assets she should be emphasising right now. “I can’t wear anything that could prove dangerous.”

“Do you do that often?” Kara asks a little dazedly, gaze now focused a solid foot below Lena’s face. “Wear things that are d-dangerous?”

Lena smirks. Kara’s eyes are locked on Lena’s chest, following its gentle rise and fall with a tangible hunger. It lights a fire in Lena. “You tell me.”

The office falls utterly silent, the air between them leaden with tension. Kara’s eyes linger at the juncture where pale skin gives way to deep red fabric for one more aching moment before beginning a torturously slow crawl up Lena’s chest and neck to meet her gaze once more.

The blue eyes that lock back onto hers are dark and greedy, pupils blown wide. The sight sets Lena’s heart thud-thudding in her chest and damn the superhearing that has surely picked up on it, damn the owner of said superhearing whose lips quirk up in a barely-there smirk.

“You know,” Kara starts, pausing as her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Lena can’t stop her own eyes from dropping heavy to take in the sight and the blonde’s smirk grows another degree. “I think if I’m going to do this piece justice, I really need to see the full picture.”

Lena can do little more than stare in silent confusion until Kara stands, dropping her pad carelessly onto the chair and rounding the desk to where Lena sits. “Stand up?” she asks in a low voice, holding out a hand. “That looks like a dress that deserves to be properly admired.”

Lena swallows hard against her suddenly dry throat, taking the proffered hand mutely and rising a little unsteadily to her feet. Kara steps closer until they’re toe to toe and Lena’s not even breathing as a tanned hand reaches up and gently releases her hair from its bun, letting dark curls fall freely across her bare shoulders.

But Kara’s hand doesn’t return to her side once it accomplishes its mission. It tugs through the curls now tickling Lena’s neck, the backs of her knuckles dragging lightly against Lena’s throat until she can’t restrain a shiver. It continues its wandering, sliding up the back of Lena’s neck to bury itself fully in her hair, thumb extended to rub at the hinge of Lena’s jaw.

“Is it?” Kara asks quietly, and Lena barely represses an honest-to-god whine at the sensation of the blonde’s breath hitting her lips.

“What?” she whispers, feeling Kara’s thumb shift against her skin.

“Is this outfit helping you get what you want?”

Lena swallows hard, the movement causing Kara’s thumb to slip down her neck until it trips to a stop directly over her thundering pulse. Lena takes a deep, decidedly un-calming breath, and tries with her last shred of rational thought to claw back the control of the situation she had at some point so thoroughly surrendered. “You tell m—”

She doesn’t even get the last word out before Kara’s lips are on hers, hot and insistent and perfect and fucking finally, and Lena just. Gives up. Gives up access to her mouth as soon as Kara’s tongue hits the seam of her lips, gives up trying to hold back her moans when Kara licks in warm and wet, starts sucking on her tongue.

Gives in to the desire, years in the making, to smooth her hands over Kara’s biceps, her broad muscular shoulders. Gives in to the urge to crush their bodies together, to finally feel the delicious press of the toned planes of Kara’s frame against every one of her own curves.

The hand not still buried in Lena’s hair begins charting an exploratory path up Lena’s side, across her ribs, and Lena is grateful for the sheerness of the skin-tight fabric that does nothing to dull the burning trail Kara’s palm is blazing against her skin.

Three things happen then in quick succession: Kara’s wandering fingers reach the underside of Lena’s breast and the sudden contact causes her other hand to tighten its grip in Lena’s hair, tugging sharply. Lena gasps, head falling backwards as a low groan rips from her throat at the slight sting. Kara’s mouth drops hot and wet to Lena’s neck, lips and teeth sucking and scraping over her rocketing pulse until Lena’s writhing against her.

“How long have you wanted this?” Kara pants, trailing kisses across Lena’s jaw and down the curve of her throat. “How long could I have been doing this?”

Lena’s eyelids flutter shut, fingers digging tight into firm shoulders as Kara sucks another mark into the skin above her collarbone. She lingers long enough that Lena knows it will bruise and in this dress, with this amount of skin on display and no way to cover it up, the thought sends a thrill through her that has her arching up into the heat of Kara’s mouth. “Oh, I don’t know,” she answers breathily, tugging Kara closer still. “How long have I been dressing like this?”

It’s Kara who moans then, reaching down to hook her hands under Lena’s thighs and lifting her onto the desk, pressing herself tight between Lena’s spread legs. In the back of her mind, Lena registers an inordinate rush of gratitude toward her past self for booking out three hours for this interview and issuing strict do not disturb instructions to her assistant.

“Gorgeous as this dress is, it’s kind of in the way,” Kara pants, one hand sliding under the hem of the offending material to skim up Lena’s bare thigh. “But it looks expensive, I don’t want to rip it—”

“Rip it,” Lena gasps immediately, tugging Kara’s mouth desperately back to her own. Preserving an item of clothing has never been further from her mind than in this exact moment. And as she’d said to Kara, her wardrobe had always functioned primarily as means to an end.

And what an end this was turning out to be.

#well this got a little away from me #thank you anon and also today's gifset of lena in that low-cut red top for inspiring this #and for helping me get over crippling writer's block #sc #minific #asks #anonymous #dings dot txt

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tommyspeakycap · 4 years ago

Text

Painted Roses

jordan henderson x reader

word count - 2k I think

jordan takes you back to the place it all began as you expand your life together.

second part to Rose Garden

4 years to the date.

The country house with the long gravel road that lead up to the huge red brick cottage. The owner passed away over a year ago and their family, to Jordan’s utter shock, weren’t interested in maintaining the beautiful home as the wedding venue it had existed as in the past. The second he heard it was up for sale, he placed an offer and had the keys in the space of two weeks.

“Jordan where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” He promises, giving your hand a gentle squeeze where it sat on top of your knee. The blindfold is making you sweat more than you already were. “I can’t see anything.” You note pointedly with a roll of your eyes behind the blindfold. Jordan chuckles heartily with what you can imagine in your mind is his signature smile, all white teeth and crinkled eyes. “You’ll love it,” he says through that smile, “I promise.” His hand pats your knee again as a silence falls between you.

Gravel crunches beneath the wheels of his fancy black Mercedes as the smell of cut grass and fresh flowers enters your nose and makes you grin subconsciously in a way you barely even notice. Jordan catches sight of that out the corner of his eye and his heart grows with joy in his chest. The slow, careful turn of his car, paired with the sound of his hands sliding along the leather of the wheel alert you to his parking. He does so with ease and you hear the keys jangling as he shuts off the engine.

“Wait here,” he instructs, climbing out his side with the door thrown shut behind him. He’s round at your side of the car before you have a chance to think up a cheeky retort. He’s gentle as he always is when he helps you out of the car carefully, wrapping one arm around your waist so you don’t fall. Admittedly, it doesn’t work very well because the ground beneath is so incredibly uneven, so when he gets to that first smooth grey cement step, he opts to simply scoop you up into his arms with ease.

“Okay,” he begins, placing you down as you feel the smooth material covering your eyes loosening and slipping from your face. His hands replace it for only a moment as he presses a kiss to the side of your head from behind you. “Open.”

You do as told and tears spring in place of his hands to blur your vision.

It’s beautiful.

It was that Victorian style country home that once acted as a wedding venue, redecorated to a minimum. “Wanted it to look nice for you, but so that you can give it your touch. You know better than me.” He admits sheepishly with a pink tint to his cheeks. You beam at him tearily, hands clasped together in sheer joy. “God Jordan, you shouldn’t have!” You exclaim, tears bleeding over your lash line. You knew how expensive these types of homes were, never mind ones so big with such history to them. It hadn’t even made much of a dent for Jordan really. He had more money than either of you could ever have spent and he likes to remind you of that to ensure you know full and well his gentle spoiling of you is not a hardship for him. He actively loves to do it.

“Take it as an anniversary present.” He shrugs, trying to fight at the smile that was tugging his lips. The warmth of your hug and the tears seeping through his white shirt was all a welcome to him no matter how hot it was outside. He could not wait to come home to this house, be welcomed home by you and hopefully some littler mixtures of you and him with your eyes and smile. “Makes my present look a little rubbish now,” you jest, making him chuckle heartily.

The house needed a fair bit of work. New flooring, new carpets, your furniture from home would do just fine but you reckon Jordan will be all for new stuff for a new home. A few new coats of paint and nice clear out, but all in it was still absolutely gorgeous.

“There is one room I really wanted to show you though, if that’s okay?” He asks, keeping his eyes trained down on the floor. You furrow your brows, but nod your head. “I gotta grab something from the car first though?” You hum, detangling your hand from his, “And pee.”

He tilts his head like a curious puppy. “Again? You went right before we left?” He queries. You shrug your shoulders indifferently. “Since when do you question a woman’s toilet habits at that point in the month, Henderson?” You poke with a blush and a light giggle. He chuckles with you and holds up his hands in defeat, but the second your out of eye and earshot his shoulders fall and a sigh bursts out his lips. He wouldn’t let it show to you right now his disappointment. You hadn’t been trying long, but it was enough for him to be in the longing stage. Longing to see your swollen belly, longing to feel those tiny kicks against his hands and then hold his brand new baby for the first time, spend all those nights wide awake wishing for nothing but sleep while he cradled them through to the morning. You said it would happen when it happened, but it still ached with every negative test. Hearing you say you were on your period hurt a little more than he had anticipated, but he’s still heart set on showing what he had done with the short time he was able to keep this new home a secret.

You return with your handbag and take his hand. He is instinctive in those soft movements of his thumb over the back of your hand. It’s something he always does to sooth both you and him.

“So this is the master bedroom and I know it’s not quite good yet but I thought-“

“Jordan it’s beautiful,” you cut him off, your hand drifting out of his as you step in slowly. Being cautious of dust sheets and some tools, you walk into the massive room. You’d never been in a bedroom that big and it had blown you away. The huge bed, still with plastic attacked and tags on the mattress. The en-suite bathroom is marble worktops, one of those huge bathtubs and a walk in shower updated to a beautiful mixture of modernity and it’s antique homage. Tears are found again. The window gives a perfect view out the back of the house, rolling fields worth of garden space, loosely fenced in for acres into the distance. There’s a pond on the land a little to the left, not far at all that leads off towards the beginning of the hidden Rose Garden where you met Jordan 4 years ago today. All of that owned and shared by just you and the man you love. “Bloody hell, it’s so magnificent Jordan. I literally have no words.”

He beams shyly almost, “That’s how I feel about you.” He mumbles softly, almost too quiet for you to hear, like he didn’t want you to. “What’s through here?” You call behind you as he trails after you on anxious legs. You carry on through the very short pathway attached to the master bedroom that had some extra storage space. “Well uh..I haven’t finished that so maybe we should just an-“

“Oh my god.”

Jordan rubs nervously at the back of his throat as he enters into the connecting room behind you. His eyes take you in immediately, studying your features carefully. Your hands are clasped over your mouth with slow tears sliding down over your rosy cheeks. Your eyes are afire with love and happiness. “I know it’s weird but-“

“It’s perfect, Jordan.” You throw your arms around his neck, his arms finding you immediately as he buries his head into your shoulder.

It’s the only room with a new carpet yet. It’s soft beneath your shoes, a plush cream colour to match a white wall. The window on the back wall gives the same fantastic view you have in the master room. There’s a white crib pushed against the wall furthest from you with a mobile of twinkling toys dangling above and a baby changing table a little away from the top end of the crib stocked full of pampers and baby cream. In the right corner of the room just by the window is a white wooden rocking chair next to a little book shelf with baby books that had a couple plush teddies and a photo of you and Jordan 4 years ago sitting atop it. The other side corner is decked out with two beanbag seats, a soft baby mat and a bundle of all sorts of soft toys.

“Left that wall blank ‘cause I remember that day you told me you’d always wanted to paint it like the sky.” He recounts, pointing his finger at the wall that the crib was situated next to, making your head whip towards him. He had such a fantastic memory even for the little things you said, just like that. You barely even remember it, spoken under the stars as you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. It gives you no doubt about having kids with him, the thought of him remembering your babies favourite little treats or ineffective toddler secrets makes your heart soar with pride and joy. “Look closer at that.” He turns you round so your facing that wall again, the one with the little cosy corner.

Painted on the wall intricately above it is that rose arbor your stood underneath when he first laid his eyes on you. Where he first had that dance with you, where he told you he wanted to see you again. Where you snuck into when it was late, dark and only lit by those same fairly lights so he could tell you he loved you for the first time all those years ago. The roses are painted in perfect colour, careful and precise in the way they hung around you for that first ever dance you shared together. It’s so beautiful and so lifelike you that get lost in it, reliving the moment your world came together. Every time you sit there, it’ll be like sitting under real thing when you can’t take the baby out there.

“Well this makes my present a little more fitting, then.” You sniffle, letting Jordan swipe the tears gently off your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in a slow, loving motion. “What do you mean?” He asks, “I told you not to get me anything.” He crossed his arms over his chest as you rifle through your bag. “Okay okay, here. Open this.”

You hand over a small gift bag, one stuffed with tissue paper he has to tear through as you sit your bag down and wait, watching him with wide and watery eyes. He pulls out first the tiny little wad of fabric and places the gift bag on top of the white wooden dresser, carefully unravelling the rolled up clothes. “That’s bloody adorable.” He breathes out, trying to keep the tears he has inside his eyes to no avail. You wrap your arm around his back, rubbing his tight shoulders softly. “Look at the back.” You encourage, his eyes meet yours then look back to the tiny clothes.

HENDERSON

With a little picture taped carefully to the bottom that he peels off with shaky, tentative fingers. “No way!” He booms, jumping back from you in shock. He looks down at the picture, up at you, back down at the picture, then up at you again with tears slipping over his cheeks. “But you said-“

“It was a surprise!” You squeal back as he swoops forward and scoops you into his arms, spinning you around in glee. “So no food poising? And no period?” He giggled out like a schoolgirl in shock. You shake your head. “Morning sickness and just a diversion. We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby!” He repeats, louder. His words bounce of the walls that can barely contain the happiness inside of them. Threatening to burst at the seams as it fills beyond belief. This room, though incomplete, is perfect. Because you are in it together. Here, together in each other’s arms sharing in joy just like you’ve both shared in pain, hurt, love, happiness, nerves and everything else along the way. Head on, together.

“And this,” Jordan holds up the little football strip with his name printed across the back, his england appointed number proudly underneath, “This is perfect. You,” he pauses, leaning forward to capture your lips in his, “Are perfect.” His hands wander down to your stomach, placed gently over where his pea sized baby currently exists, growing and feeding on the love he intends to drown them in just like he does to you, “Both of you…perfect.”

It is perfect, really. Your love is. Even when it isn’t, it is. When he’s gone too long and you can’t see him because of a pandemic; the effort is made, emotions are shared. He tells you he misses you and his ego is never too big for its space in your relationship. When the world is against him or when fate turns against you both, it’s in each other’s arms that you find solace even if space is needed first. There’s an understanding of the love you have. It’s special. The kind that only a lucky few seem to find these days, a one people can look at and spot from a mile away. It’s beautiful, it’s own space taking entity that makes you both target to significant teasing from friends and family alike. It’s perfect.

Even when you fight over what blue is better to represent the sky just because your pregnant and too hormonal to admit he’d found the right colour before you did. Even when he coats you in paint that ends in an all out paint war, thankful you both removed all the furniture before painting. Even when you sob as your body changes, with pregnant emotions skewing your mind and making you question whether he’ll ever be attracted to you again, he’ll remind you that he’s never been more attracted to you than now. Housing his child, taking the aches, the pains and the changes like a true champ while he can do nothing but rub your feet and buy you ridiculous quantities of Solero ice creams. He’ll remind you in more ways that one just how perfect you are to him. Love by it’s very nature is as messy as that paint fight. It’s up and down and all over the place all the time. But the kind of love that you and Jordan have is a special that doesn’t waver, doesn’t dull or dim or change through time.

If anything, each day he loves you more. Even if he was convinced it wasn’t possible. But then it just was. Seeing you red in the face with sweat dripping over your forehead and tears leaking from your squeezed shut eyes as your screams echo through the room. All he could do was coax and coach, trying to tell you how proud of you he was. Even when you screamed that you despised him, he laughed and told you to squeeze his hand a little harder. It hurt, but that was nothing compared to the pain that you were enduring from multiple areas of your body as that baby ripped through you to make her grand entrance to the world, kicking and screaming just like the fighter her mother was. He thought his heart might burst with the amount of love he has, surely that’s as good as it gets?

No. No, it gets better still.

Everyday it’s better. Better when he gets to watch that woman that he loves so much sing to his tiny baby daughter, rocking in that chair under the painted rose arbor as she feeds from you. The most beautiful, natural thing in the world and he is enthralled by it. Watching you giggle at her she coos up at you. Placing her down in the crib beneath the gentle jingling of the cloud themed mobile next to the pale, sky blue coloured wall, blossoms falling, trickling down through clouds from a painted blossom tree on the wall and rose petals in variations of pink and red along the bottom of the crib. Roses and rose petals just like the ones that surrounded you on the day you danced with each other in under the trees of the garden that summer night. Roses like the ones you stood under to profess your love for one another. Roses, like the ones he took a knee beside, beneath and with one in his hand to give to you as he asked for your hand. Roses like you would stand beneath with one pinned to the breast of his suit to say the vows that would tie you in law to one another and to give you his name. Roses like the ones painted on the far wall, still fresh when you shared the news of that baby girl’s existence. Roses that were such an important symbol of the love you shared, pure and beautiful, sometimes painful but always worth the fight. Those roses painted on that crib with space for just one word carved into the wood.

Rose.

Your own beautiful little Rose.

#jordan henderson #jordan henderson imagines #jordan henderson imagine #jordan henderson x reader #england national team imagine #england national team #footie fics #footballer fics #football fics

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 4 years ago

Text

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.”

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear.

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid.

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room.

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?”

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.”

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.”

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!”

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him.

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.”

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?”

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions.

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.”

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?”

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.”

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression.

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.”

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.”

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours.

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you.

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.”

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?”

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.”

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.”

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure.

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.”

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?”

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.”

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.”

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.”

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?”

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.”

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?”

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.”

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time.

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.”

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.”

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?”

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.”

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes.

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.”

#hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal x you #hannigram #hannigram x reader #the sommelier #wine #tw trauma #tw victim blaming #tw alcohol

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mxvladdy · 4 years ago

Note

What do you think would happen if MC (in an attempt to keep it away from him) tucked Goldie under their boob?

[A bra is the best wallet but underneath even a C-cup boob is damn near Fort Knox (or the tower of London, I.e. Impenatrable fortresses)]

lmaooo. Let’s us gather round and pray for Mammon’s remaining sanity. What little remands. The himbo never saw it coming. I’m weak and got a little spicy at the end, apologies if that’s not what you wanted my heart was thirsty for ONE greed man;.;

A/N I originally called this work Tiity prison bc I have a sense of humor lol.

Hope ya like!

To say he is conflicted is an understatement. Depending on when and where you do the titty lockdown will change how he reacts.

If it's at school, he is a mess. I’m talking about the works. He’s red in the face, can’t focus, and sweating the whole rest of the school day. He is definitely torn between fighting his goldie withdrawals and making a pass at your chest.

He won’t do the latter, as much as he threatens it. He may be scummy but he has a code of conduct (most of the time). You get a kick out of watching him try not to stare at your chest and getting smacked by Lucifer when caught.

If it’s on Lucifer’s orders to keep his card away from him he’ll have a bit more control but will bitch the WHOLE day. Honestly, you might give it back just to shut him up.

He won’t outright grab your chest or physically try to snatch it. He’ll try to be sneaky about it. Dropping stuff and making you bend over to grab it. “I swear I ain’t try nothin’”. Right.

If desperate enough he’ll just downright pick you up off your feet and jiggle you like a piggy bank. Like I said, he has a code of conduct. It’s just kinda flexible sometimes.

“C-come on! Give ‘er back.” Mammon pleads, pulling off his classic bagger’s pout. Good thing you were immune. His toned arms cage you in, your back resting on one of the school’s marble walls. “How am I going to buy lunch?”

“I made you lunch.” You laugh. Ducking under his arms you make your way to the dining hall ignoring his flustered shouts. He’ll follow soon enough. The promise of your cooking and potentially nabbing goldie back was too great for him to ignore. Sure enough, he slinks in a few minutes after you. His shades now out and perched on his nose. Even hidden under the tinted glasses, you could see his flushed cheeks and darting eyes. “Better eat now, Beel is going to join us today.” You say around a mouthful of food. He whines but forces himself to focus on his quickly cooling food.

He follows you even closer than before after lunch, barely a hair’s breadth from your back. His clever fingers pinching and pulling at the bottom of your shirt in the crowded hallway. “Please~” He whimpers through his teeth after your swat his hands away again. “I swear I won’t use her.”

You plop down at your desk. “If you’re not going to use her, then she is safe where she is.” You stick your tongue out and give the boob hiding goldie a lovely squeeze. Mammon groans as if stabbed, teeth bared and fangs growing in a mix of frustration and want. “Babe come on. Ya’ killing me.” His eyes are glued to where your hand rests.

Before you can respond a leather-clad hand smacks Mammon across the back of his head. Mammon yips in fright. “I will kill you first if you don’t keep your eyes up at the board.” The cold warning from Lucifer was enough to shut you both up for the rest of the class. You watch him disappear when the bell chimes. His next period was across campus while you were stuck here for another hour. Your phone buzzes the moment his designer boots disappear out the door.

Pretty Boy: what did you do to Mammon?

You: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

You catch Asmo’s eye from his seat a few rows back from you. He winks at you, thumbs flying across his lit screen.

Pretty Boy: Bull- tell me your secrets. I haven’t seen him that flustered in eons, not since Helen paid a visit.

You: Got “asked” by Lucifer to keep Goldie away from Mammon for the day. A limited edition car he wants just got released. Luci is still paying off Mammon’s last shopping spree, so he’s on ice till tomorrow afternoon.

Pretty Boy: Ouch- you not telling him where it is?

You: Oh no. He knows exactly where it is. He is just too nervous to go for it.

You hear Asmo’s scandalous gasp behind you earning you both a glare from the professor. You bite your tongue to hide a chuckle. The professor turns with a huff, and Asmo starts up all over again.

Pretty Boy: Is it in your pants! Can I take a look ;*

You: No and No.

Pretty Boy: Ah- he was always a chest man. Good luck with that, he can hold out for only so long :)

What does that mean? You whip your head around waiting for an explanation text. Asmo has the gall to ignore you, busy reapplying his lip gloss. Even if he wasn’t looking at you, you knew that impish smile was for you. Turning back around in your seat you shiver, now you weren’t sure if you should be scared or excited.

The rest of the day passes quietly. Too quietly. It gives you the jitters. Every corner of the school could be a potential hiding spot for one conniving demon. You weren’t expecting him to attack you, not outright. Yet, you were expecting some sort of retaliation. The last bell of the day came sooner than you expected and it was time for afterschool activities. Packing your bag you wave off Beel and Satan, assuring them you would be fine to walk to the music and arts wing by yourself. They had their own clubs to get to anyway.

Making your way to your activity you feel the hair on the back of your neck began to rise. Something wasn’t sitting right with you. You look up and around. No one was in the corridors, not even a stray teacher rushing to the breakroom. Odd. You peak over your shoulder and frown. Even the air was still. Chalking it up to a probably very haunted school, you pick up the pace. Even if you didn’t believe in the ghost stories like Luke, it was best to just never find out. No matter what hallway you took or how fast you walked the feeling of being watched only intensified. Your flight or fight instinct kicked in.

Who could you call if you need help? Where in the hells was Mam- was that your pencil case? You skid to a halt bemused. There, in the middle of the floor was your favorite case. The calico kitty design stares up at you innocently from the floor. You open your bag to double-check. You could have sworn you had thrown it in there after last period. Did it fall out? Had you taken this path before? You approached it cautiously, bending down to grab it.

Strong arms wrap around your waist locking around you like a spring trap. They lift you up and up and up. It was so sudden you could do nothing but squeak in surprise, pencil case clutched tightly to your chest. Were you really going to die here? Caught in such a childish trap...wait. “Seriously Mammon!” The fear disappears, replaced now with exasperation. He grunts ignoring your words to shake you slightly. You yelp feeling goldie and your bra shift. “Oh, my Gods. Mammon! I know you can do better than this.”

“Shut up! I’m desperate.”

Unbelievable. "That's the best you got? Really, I’m kinda insulted." Mammon stops shaking you, his arms loosening enough for you to turn around to face him. He looks up at you batting his long lashes. “Put me down.” It wasn’t a pact order, but firm. He pouts but sets you back on the ground gently. Not before giving you a hearty squeeze. You catch his hand sneaking up the side of your shirt with a raised brow. "Why didn't you just make a grab for it in the first place?"

He scoffs turning pink. "'M allowed ta just cop a feel whenever I want now?"

"Absolutely not, not in public at least. I like you breathing."

“Could have fooled me,” Mammon chuckles. He glances around the empty hallway then back to you. A slow rolling purr starts deep in his throat. "Though, there is no one here now." Slowly his dexterous fingers glide back over your sides. His touch is searing on your shirt. You could feel goldie pulsing underneath the cotton of your bra. The plastic seemingly growing warmer than your skin as his hand travels closer. You do nothing, watching his face grow hungrier with each passing centimeter as he gets close to his prize. “What’s stopping me now?”

“Just you.” He stops at the side of your chest, eye wide and greedy. You could feel him trying to temper himself. His adrenaline, fear, lust, and his raw cardinal desire thicking the air around you. It all pulsed red hot in his veins and travels down to yours. He wanted more than just goldie now. His natural magnetism pulling you in closer. You wanted him, you wanted him to just take it- take everything. The pact mark slams shut, its heat snuffed out like a candle. "Mammon?" Had your teasing gone too far?

"Hold tight to her till tonight." He growls tapping your chest possessively. His many gold rings resemble talons as he drags his fingers across the stitching of your school uniform. "I'll come for her tonight," He leans in, smoke and leather clouds your sense. "and I'll be taking a tithe for all the trouble you caused me too." His husky promise sends a shiver down your spine, gut twisting in anticipation. Mammon's bright blue eyes jump over your shoulder, a frown grows on his beautiful face, he could hear footsteps approaching from your club room. Probably the angels looking for you. Brushing his lips across your cheek he parts, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Be ready. You know I always come to collect."

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me headcanons #this was fun lol #requests

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hxnmantii · 4 years ago

Text

Class 1-A and their car habits

tw: crack/fluff, cursing

People: Bakugo, Shoto, Izuku, Sero, Kiri, iida, Mina x mostly gn!reader (Mina is the only one that’s implied female!reader)

Ratings: PG

A/n: yuuhh get into💋 I personally would like to ride with Shoto. I just wanna hold his hand👉🏾👈🏾 but not on no simp shit. Originally, this was going to be just boys but who would I be if my gay self didn’t add the queen herself? Anyways, Who would you like to ride with?

Bakugo~

Bakugo does that sexy ass thing where he drives with one hand on the wheel and one hand on your thigh and when you don’t pay him enough attention he’ll lightly squeeze your thigh. This man does NOT share the aux....his stingy ass. He says he doesn’t wanna listen “to your trash music” but will play bxmb threat and NBA Youngboy at full capacity with the windows down. If you beg enough maybe he’ll play 1 Nicki song. But he will throw a fit and act like he doesn’t like Nicki even though he knows all of the lyrics. Altough he’s really uptight about his car, he enjoys driving and picking up the Bakusquad in it because he likes to feel useful and needed. No doubt about it, this man has road rage. He’s screaming outside the window and in the car about how someone cut him off and when someone screams back him, he’s like “Pull over right now cuz those sound like fighting words to me.” Now y’all in the back of a cop car and 30 minutes late to your dinner date. You are not, I repeat, you are NOT allowed to even think about eating in his car unless he’s got that plastic wrapping on his car. He treats his car so good (at some point you think he likes the care better than you) her name is Bethany. I-

Shoto~

Shoto has one hand on the wheel and one hand in your hand, stroking your hand from time to time and kissing the back of it. He had a sleek gray sliver car with a sunroom (he never actually uses) that goes fast and he likes going real fast because what they gon do, give him a ticket??? When his dad the number one hero??? Try again. He’s also the type to flick off the cops as he driving by because ACAB. He’s always wearing a gold Rolex and you got your nails done so when you hold his, the acrylics compliment his hand and watch.(like the pictures from Pinterest) You guys ride in comfortable silence. It’s so calming riding with him because although you’re slightly anxious with how fast he’s going, you’re at somewhat ease because he’s doing it so smoothly and you trust him. His windows are tinted because once again he’s the son of a pro hero and people are nosy, neither you or him like that. Although you don’t really need the assistance with Shoto being a living AC and heater in one, his seats have buttons for each seat and you can warm your bum. His car had the clean car smell...it just smells really clean. He’s got a bunch of condiments and napkins in his glove department. He doesn’t know where they came from. His whole vibe in his car is rich and elegant. He gets his car professional wash every Tuesday and you are required to come.

Kirishima

Kiri’s got a big ass red GMC truck and he gave the truck these monster wheels so it’s a force to be reckoned with. Her name is Sophie and like Bakugo, he loves her dearly but makes it clear to you that he’s love you more than her. He does the sexy ass thing where he’s got one hand on the wheel and one hand tightly holding on to your head rest so his arms flexing and he’s backing up with a concentrated look. that is so hot to me. He’s got a sticker on the back that says “honk if you’re manly” . He definitely would let you take the aux because you guys made a playlist of songs you chose together. He would be the type to start dancing when a good song came on, almost hitting someone in the process because he took both hands off the steering wheel out of excitement. He’s got road rage but not enough to actually start shouting or flicking someone off. In the trunk of Kirishima’s car, he’s got at least 5 different protein bottles as well a case of water and some jump rope. He says “You never know when I’ll need it to work out” but he has his personal gym?? Anyways, he has a specific section in his closet for red button ups because he likes to match Sophie when he drives her😭 I hate to say it but Kiri looks like a hill billy especially since he’s got those shoulder cut out button ups. He’s cute with it and he’s happy so you somewhat tolerate it

Midoriya

Izuku has more of a family car like a soccer mom car or a dark green Ford explore because he likes to pick everybody up to hang out and he needs space since he’s got a lot of them. Not to mention, he also likes to cruise and enjoy his time with you no matter where y’all go because we all know this man is a simppp. At every stop light, he’s gently grabbing your face and either kissing you on your cheek or forehead. He tried giving you a kiss on the lips once but he got so caught on the feeling that he ended up holding up the line and everybody was honking and made at him. He was so embarrassed that he now waits til you guys get to your destination to do all that extraness. Being the big fan he is, naturally he has some All might themed seatbelts and has all might stickers all over his steering wheel. He also has little all Might figurine on his dashboard that he prays to get him out of car trouble. Genuinely think it’s works too. Izuku in his trunk has a bunch of workout gear and gaze cuz he’s sexy like that. He does not have road rage at all....maybe a little. He might flick someone off but that’s as far as it goes. He definitely gives you the aux because he loves watching how lively you get it. (Y/n) “Do you know your Megan baby?”🥰 (ZuZu) “Y-yes?”

Iida

Now hear me out...Iida has a motorcycle. He’s got a need for speed that cars can’t really fufill because you can’t weave through other cars like a motorcycle can. His motorcycle has the highest tech on it naturally. It’s all black but has lights underneath it so he can change it by phone and ofc it’s always blue. You guys also have matching helmets that are Bluetooth so you’re able to talk to one another without having to yell very much. When you guise stop, he rubbing your arms to make sure that you’re okay and/if you need to pull over. Now when he’s not riding the motorcycle he’s got a Tesla. He preaches about the law and following the rules but when he get in the car, that’s a different story. With him you better either hold on tight to him or you better get double seat belt buckles for extra protection because he’s about to try and race the flash. (And you thought Shoto was bad) You get out thanking the universe for letting you touch ground again. Iida got the type of car that if you even breathe incorrectly around it, it’s going off and waking up the whole damn neighborhood. When iida first got his car, he read everything up on it so he would be fully able to use the car to its full potiential meaning that he’s got Siri set up, he can lock the door from his car, and watch the cameras on his house through the screen of his car. The Bluetooth is automatically connected to his phone so no you will not be getting the aux but you can play some tunes form his phone. He’ll even make you a playlist on Apple Music with his rich self.

Sero

Sero’s got a red convertible with tan seats and the weather allows it, his top is always down. His car always smells so good because he uses the wild cherry air freshener in his car. He blasts bad bunny and daddy Yankee as y’all are cruising slightly over the speed light. He also likes blasting Ski Mask. He’s the type to sing you the words while gently holding your face and singing to you with a lovey dovey smile on his face. He’s very respectful and turns down his music when entering neighborhoods because he doesn’t wanna mess with the vibes. You two have matching glasses that says queen/ king on yours and king on his. He definitely has some throw dice hanging from his mirror along with a picture of you and him taped to his dashboard cuz he’s also a simp. He’s always has a packet of Extra gum in his middle console along with warm water bottles. If police pulls him over, he definitely the type to start flirting with him so the officer just to make him uncomfortable enough to let him off with a warning. For a fact, he has the Puerto Rican flag on the antenna of his car. He has Led lights and likes them to be colorful rather than on one color. Sero definitely jogs around the front to open the door for you because he’s a jester and a gentleman in one. His part of his car is that the top can go down solely for the fact that the sun always highlights your skins so well.

Mina

Do I even need to say anything about the Pink queen herself?? She has a cute pink steering wheel case with matching pink seats and ofc she has a bedazzled stick shift. She has a Jeep. She the type of person to has matching glasses with her interior and when you get in the car, she’s putting her music on shuffle: a dangerous move because you go from Brent Faiyaz to Jhene Aiki to fucking Cardi B, Flo Mili, and etc. When you unbuckle your seat to start twerking in the seat, she’s automatically going to start hyping you up. She’s got one hand on the steering wheel and one hand on your ass smacking it as you fuck it up in the passenger seat. Y’all are literally swerving from side to side and let’s be honest here, Mina is not that good of a driver so you have almost gotten in an accident multiple times. She’s the type to pull over to take cute selfies or videos with you and post them all at once captioning it with “Late nights w/bae”. Underneath seat she an emergency packet filled with makeup, clothes, hair and first aid kit supplies. Although she’s not the best driver, she takes the rules really serious because she would hate to have an accident with you in the car. Like Sero, She has led lights in her car but they only flash pink. Mina is the queen of putting falsies on so she would mostly definitely put yours on (without tweezers) once you park as well as do your edges if you ask. She just has that talent. *chefs kiss* amazing

Reblogs are appreciated!

A/n: I’m lyin I definitely would be riding with Bakugo because I have major passenger rod rage lol and you definitely don’t wanna get your ass beat TWICE

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years ago

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Shuck Buddies - chapter four (final chapter)

Fandom: Nancy Drew Pairing: Nancy x Ace Rating: E Chapter: 4 / 4 Word Count: 7893

Chapter summary: A confession. A chocolate cake. A bookshelf of epic proportions.

Read: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

In the time it took for Nancy to drive from the spot she’d found Ace—perched atop a mini-mountain like an oversized Yeti—back to her house, she’d barely begun saying all the things she knew she should. To be fair, she hadn’t had the intention of getting into it at all, not yet, but it was so much easier to talk when she could watch the treacherous, snow-smoothed streets and not Ace’s eyes as he stared back at her. Though she could still feel the stare.

That felt like a good sign. Everything did, including the fact that he’d agreed to this after she’d ignored him at work, including the literal signs—stop signs and signs pointing towards the marina—that were half-draped in snow. Ace was here, batting the snow off his hat onto her incongruously modern moulded-plastic floor mats. She smiled at the quick sniff of his thawing nose. She might’ve smiled if he’d swung his shovel at one of her Sunbeam’s headlights before getting in, as long as he’d gotten in.

Nancy pulled into the driveway she’d manically shoveled just enough of to clear a path for her car.

“I can feel your judgement,” she joked, killing the engine.

“No, no,” Ace refuted lightly. “It’s efficient.”

“Once I was ready to…” She trailed off and looked at him. His expression was open. He understood. Nancy smiled, self-consciously and too big. “I did all of my soul-searching pre-shovelling.”

“Ah. I’ve always found the latter facilitates the former.”

“Maybe I’ll try that sometime I’m a little less… eager.”

In the passenger seat, Ace’s posture perked up. She wanted to laugh. It’d be easy to, and to let her comment mean what the baser part of Ace’s brain had clearly taken it to mean: that it was her body that had sped her mind’s capitulation. That taking to the slippery roads hadn’t been so much a romantic gesture as an incarnation of the classic u up? text. But this wasn’t Nancy caving to pressure from her sex drive. There’d been plenty of that between them from the start and not enough of what she was feeling now. Calm. Safety. Certainty.

“I’m sorry I iced you out,” she said softly, reaching for Ace’s hand. When she felt how chilled his fingers were, she trapped them between both her palms.

“You needed your space,” he acknowledged. “It’s not like it’s not something I’ve seen you do before.”

Well, ouch. Nancy wanted to pull back.

“But this time,” Ace pressed on, folding his hand around hers to keep her there, “it was my fault.”

“Ace,” Nancy sighed.

“It was. I thought any deeper attraction between us was in my head because I’ve always—” He choked on his words. “—I’ve always liked you as more than what our arrangement said you should be to me. Thinking that anything more with you could only ever be a fantasy probably made me miss signals and—”

“Ace, no,” she said firmly, squeezing his hand to stop him.

His eyes were wide and burning blue with the self-blame he’d continue to expel if she let him. Yes, she’d been wounded by his brush-off on New Year’s Eve, and a little by how he hadn’t forced a confrontation at work when she kept ignoring him, but like he’d pointed out, this was a pattern for her. It would be wrong and very obviously, insanely unfair to let him criticize himself for her silence. She’d created the space she’d needed, and she’d done it consciously.

Inside her chest, her heart felt hot with anxiety and her desperation to finally let Ace in.

“I changed the rules on you,” Nancy said. “I made a decision in my head that it was time for our relationship to evolve and gave you absolutely no say. Even if,” she allowed, nodding as he opened his mouth to protest, “you would’ve agreed. We should’ve talked about it. Jumping in with both feet and making out in front of our friends would’ve had its own consequences.”

“Like thunderous applause.”

“Ace. I’m trying to make a case for constraint here.”

“I’m right though. I think they maybe saw things a little more clearly than we did.” He cleared his throat and made his face serious. “But yes, constraint. Please go on.”

Nancy thought there was really just one thing more that needed saying.

“I’m sorry, Ace.” The hand not locked with his crept up to clutch the sleeve of his coat. “I’m sorry I ever made you a secret. It was compartmentalization and it was cowardly and I should’ve made you feel like you could ask for more right from the start. I just ran headlong into the kind of relationship that suited me and brought you along for the ride.”

“It was never a ride I didn’t wanna be on. Wasn’t exactly feeling glum all those times we made out at the Claw before anybody else started work, or the times I knew you were just letting me give you a ride home because you had big plans to put your hand on my thigh while I drove and almost get us into an accident.”

“I wasn’t trying to get us into an accident.”

“Then you shouldn’t have moved your hand where you moved it!”

Nancy laughed. As it faded, she said, ��Can our fuck-buddies era be over now?”

“Yes, if it means I can get out of your freezing car.”

She laughed again and they scrambled out. She felt Ace’s hand through her coat, guiding her ahead of him, as they hurried up to the front door. She opened the outer door and stepped inside, stomping her boots to knock off the snow.

Nancy was distracted with undoing her buttons when, hand lingering on her lower back, Ace moved close to her.

“Yes anyway,” he said quietly.

She spun, staring up at him with an achingly tender expression—undoubtedly the rawest she’d ever let him see. The look on his face was one she’d never caught head-on, but she’d felt it, she’d felt it every time she’d turned her head a second too slow and found Ace staring too hard in a different direction.

She said, “You can kiss me if you want to.”

His gaze was already on her mouth.

“I want to.”

Ace’s hand slid quickly over the collar of her coat, into the warmth between her hair and her neck, and cradled her face as his descended. Not slowly, but Nancy stretched upwards anyway, impatient that this kiss was anything slower than instant. Their lips met with the same haste they always had, joined by a conviction they’d been lacking. This, she thought, was what it could feel like when people let each other in. She sighed when Ace drew back to breathe, then threw her gloves to the floor and thrust her fingers into his hair, pulling him back to her. His other hand went to her hip and hers landed on the zipper of his coat, jerking it down so she could cuddle into the heat of him, shirt to sweater.

It was sweet, really, a nice reunion kiss, until Nancy sucked Ace’s lip and Ace grabbed Nancy’s ass and Nancy moaned against his mouth and Ace tried to back her into the inner door and she tugged the front of his coat and he slipped on the pool of melting snow under their boots and and and…

His hands pounded the door as he braced himself. It might’ve still been ok—with his arm going around her back and hers behind his neck, the two of them congratulating themselves on the averted disaster with a deep, thorough kiss—if George hadn’t opened the inner door to send them staggering into the entryway.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said dryly, then called over her shoulder. “THEY’RE SUCKING FACE IN THE FOYER!”

“We were sucking face in the foyer,” Ace corrected. He turned his attention to his wet boots.

For a solid ten seconds, Nancy watched him bend down to the task before George snapped her fingers in her face.

“You too, Frisky the Snowman. You’re tracking water in.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. She removed her winter gear while George went to the kitchen.

“So, George is here,” Ace said conversationally. He brushed his hair back from his face as he straightened up. God, Nancy thought, he’s gorgeous. How have I not been making sure everyone knows he’s with me?

“Yeah,” she said. “I asked them to come. Nick parked around the corner so it’d be a surprise.”

“Nick’s here too? Is everybody here?”

“All three people we know,” Nancy confirmed wryly. She watched Ace look towards the kitchen and smiled. “I wanted to prove to you that what I said wasn’t hollow. This seemed like the best way to show you we wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

His gaze returned to her.

“Nancy…” He swallowed. His eyes communicated all the words that weren’t making it past his throat.

A little overwhelmed by the moment herself, Nancy gestured at him.

“Can I take your coat?”

The second Ace shrugged out of it, she wanted to scrap her plan and tell their friends to go home.

Ace wasn’t wearing one of his typical sweatshirts; hugging his arms, chest, and shoulders was a sky-blue base layer shirt, which made sense, Nancy told herself, dazedly hanging up his coat. He’d been shoveling—all morning, he’d told her in the car—so he’d wanted to stay warm. He’d probably had a sweatshirt on over top, but she couldn’t picture that right now, not as readily as she could picture him stripping off that indistinct outer layer to reveal this tight one.

“We can still do that.”

She shook her head to clear it. “What?”

Ace smirked.

“That thing your face says you’re thinking about. Being in a relationship isn’t going to be all hanging out with Bess and George and Nick in your kitchen. It’ll still be the stuff we were doing before. I promise.”

“Good. I liked that stuff.”

He put an arm around her, whispering, “I remember,” into her hair as they walked to the kitchen.

“Yay!” It was Bess who started the cheer as they went in. Nancy couldn’t believe it made her blush, but this relationship was already different to any she’d had before. She laid her hand on top of the one Ace had on her waist.

“Thanks, you guys,” she said.

“Wow,” Ace said, “this is an improvement. I was expecting you to say, ‘That’s enough of that,’ or somethin’.”

“She’s saving her breath,” George guessed, looking smug. “She knows that telling us to stop won’t work.”

“We’ve waited long enough,” Bess chimed in. Her smile was testing its biggest, brightest limits as she glanced repeatedly from Nancy to Ace.

“Alright, we’ve got plenty of time to embarrass them,” Nick said. “Might as well do it over cake.”

“There’s cake?” Ace asked.

Nancy turned in his hold, placing a tentative hand on his chest as she looked up to his eyes.

“Yeah,” she said.

“We’re celebrating Nancy getting her head out of her—”

“Ok,” Nick cut George off.

“I don’t even know what flavour it is,” Nancy confessed. “Bess got it last night.”

“Last night?” Ace sounded surprised. She thought that was reasonable.

“Well,” Bess said, stepping away from the paper cake box she’d been reaching for to let Nick open it instead, “after George gave you that push yesterday…”

“You know about that?”

“They’re schemers,” Nancy explained, gazing fondly at each of them.

“…I had the foresight to pop in at the bakery.”

“And it’s a good thing she did, really, since everything’s closed today because of the storm.”

“Thank you, Nancy.” Bess was practically preening with pride and Nancy laughed.

She leaned into Ace, holding him a little more securely.

“I asked her to customize it this morning while I was out looking for you.”

Nick lifted the cake box off the counter, holding up the lid. Bess framed the cake between her hovering hands and said, “Ta-da!”

Be My Boyfriend? was looped across the surface of the chocolate cake in white icing. Nancy thought Bess had done an incredible job with those deft, pickpocket paws of hers, until she noticed that the dots of the I and the question mark were hearts.

“I did not authorize those,” Nancy said, pointing to Bess’s additions.

Her friend waved her off.

“I took creative liberties,” she said.

“It looks awesome,” Ace told her. “I love the hearts.”

George cut subtly through the platanchor moment by giving Nancy an encouraging look and head tilt. Right, there was still something else she needed to say.

She took a small step back from Ace and he released her, fixing her with questioning, though trusting, eyes as his hand skimmed across her back. Before it could fall, Nancy grabbed it in her own.

“Ace,” she said, “I really, really like you. Will you be my boyfriend?”

“You know I will,” he said. “I’m crazy about you.”

They kissed until George protested.

“Whoa, ok, no, I don’t need to see any more of that. You didn’t get married. No one came here to watch you make out.”

Nancy was grinning when Ace gave her one more peck, his lips partially hitting teeth.

“Alright, cake!” Nick said.

“Why are you starving?” George asked.

“Nancy came flying in right when I was about to have lunch!”

There was a whirl of activity around Nancy and Ace as Nick and George grabbed plates, forks, and napkins and Bess bustled past with the cake, calling back, “It’s kosher!”

The five of them settled in the dining room, cake cut, slices distributed, Nancy feeling like it was all ridiculously over-the-top but also perfect. Ace kept shifting his chair closer to hers until their thighs pressed together. She touched him twice as much as he touched her—his knee, his shoulder, the back of his hand—just so he’d know this was really ok with her, that it was really real and she wasn’t going to shy away from open displays of affection in front of their friends.

Their friends, who were too busy competing over who had observed what between Ace and Nancy to notice half of these touches. If anyone listened to Nick, Bess, and George, Nancy thought, they’d think this relationship had been inevitable for a long time. Laughing at Bess’s latest anecdote (“For a whole week, I thought they were communicating in some sort of code at work, but it turned out they were actually just that flustered around each other!”), she stole a glance at Ace. Maybe it had been inevitable.

After cake, Nancy didn’t force them out of her house. She didn’t have to. Nick invented a bookshelf that needed assembling back at his place and George tugged Bess along by her sleeve towards the front door.

“It’s a job for three people,” George insisted.

“Oh, right. Nick texted me a picture,” Bess said. She nodded solemnly at Nancy. “It’s a really large bookshelf. They need me there. Safety first!”

“I can drive Bess back when we’re done,” Nick said, pulling the keys to his truck out of his pocket, “but that won’t be until tomorrow. Late tomorrow. Not before lunch.”

Nancy heard Ace’s stifled laugh.

“You wouldn’t believe the size of this goddamn bookshelf,” George added for emphasis as the three of them went out the door.

“I already don’t believe it,” Nancy assured her.

Once she’d closed the door on them, she tiptoed back across the dry parts of the foyer to Ace.

“Our friends are really bad liars,” she observed.

“What are you talking about? That bookshelf sounded like a tough project. I wonder why they didn’t ask me to go too.”

Nancy snorted.

“Yeah, I wonder.”

“I guess I’ll just have to stay here with you,” Ace said, reaching for her. She went willingly into his loose embrace.

“I’d appreciate it. Carson’s flight from Boston got delayed because of the snow, so I’m all by myself tonight.”

She watched Ace swallow before he responded, almost as cool and collected as normal.

“We can’t have that. Do you have any bookshelves that need assembling?”

“Not one.” She hooked her fingers into the neck of his shirt and ran her thumb up and down his throat. “But we could go upstairs to double-check.”

“That seems… prudent.”

Feeling the heat of his hands through her sweater, Nancy’s heart gave an eager thump. The house to themselves—it was the best gift their friends and Mother Nature could’ve given them. Though she had appreciated the cake.

Ace had never been upstairs before, and Nancy felt slightly giddy as she led the way to her bedroom. Man, this reminded her of sneaking around with her high school boyfriend. Not the last one, but the second last, before her mom’s diagnosis. Back when guilt was something vaguely triggered by letting a boy feel her up through her pajama top while her two healthy parents slept in the next room, not something she felt anytime she had any fun at all, her mom bedridden in the front room they’d converted to house her hospital bed. It felt right, climbing the stairs with Ace now. It felt like time.

She knew her mom would’ve adored him.

“So… this is my room,” Nancy said. She politely waved Ace in ahead of her while her body screeched at her to shove him into her desk chair and get on his lap.

He took his time studying the pictures and articles she’d pinned to the board above her desk. He smiled at her RBG illustration. He leaned forward to read something and his shoulders pulled his shirt taut; he held his arms behind his back, clasping a hand around the opposite wrist, and his triceps jumped and flexed. Everyone who knew Nancy thought she couldn’t control her impulses—those people should’ve seen her now, because it was very difficult not to wrap her arms around Ace from behind and open his fly, and yet she was succeeding.

“Where do you keep your scarves?” Ace asked casually. He finally looked away from her messy little mix of inspirational quotes and aggravating newspaper clippings.

Nancy blinked, stupefied by Ace’s highly-focused gaze on her, here. This was where she researched and daydreamed and deciphered clues and found meaning in overlooked signs and hadn’t been able to get to sleep on New Year’s Eve because her heart had ached, heavy and titanic, and the feeling of Ace between her legs hadn’t left her.

“Winter scarves?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Those little ones you wear sometimes.”

“Ah.”

She retrieved one from the drawer where she kept them—a blue one; she’d gravitated towards it after staring into his eyes too long—and offered it to Ace on her palm. She swore she could feel his gaze, full of intention, start at the scarf and slink up her body until he was looking her in the eye.

“Sweet,” he said, taking it from her—even the graze of his fingertips across her palm was making her sweat in the best way, ready to fling off her sweater—and promptly discarding it on the end of her bed.

What Ace kissed when he suddenly came forward was Nancy’s confused frown.

She was aware of things. She detected. She’d noticed the look on Ace’s face when she’d untied his apron at the Claw, when he’d untied his New Year’s Eve tie from around her neck, retied the sash of her dress into a flawless, even bow. Ace had a certain penchant that she’d picked up on. A proclivity. A weakness that made her a little weak in the knees too; she remembered the sensation of him dragging his tie across the nape of her neck. So in what fucking way was her neckerchief deficient?

Then again, kissing Ace also made her weak in the knees. She couldn’t complain. Greedily, she rucked up his shirt, thrilled when it stayed there and allowed her fingers to hastily map the planes and canyons of his abdominal musculature. Her fingertips dipped into the deepest descents by his hips, tracing downward and inward towards his groin until his jeans got in the way. Ace broke the kiss, panting as he turned his face into her neck. Just a minute ago, she’d had a question. She couldn’t remember it.

Nancy sat down on her bed and laid back when Ace followed, crawling over her. This was a first for them—they’d never done anything on, in, or even near a bed before. She liked the change. She liked that the light coming through her window was cool and white and fresh and that Ace smelled like the outdoors and tasted like chocolate cake. She liked that his legs were long and his shoulders were broad but his hips dropped right in between her bent legs.

“Can I take your sweater off?”

She liked that he asked.

Nancy raised her arms above her head and arched her back as Ace pulled it off, palms running over her skin as he went.

“You too,” she said, so Ace rocked up on his knees and peeled his tight shirt up.

It disheveled his hair going over his head, and his chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and when he reached up to push his hair back like he always did and his biceps flexed obscenely, Nancy knew it was the best view she’d ever seen in her life. Ace kneeling on a bed (her bed), jeans, no shirt, hair mussed, was completely pornographic. Fuck, she was wet. She grinned at him.

“I sorta would love to watch you build a bookshelf right now,” she said.

“Tough,” he shot back. “But you can watch me take off your pants.”

“Solid counterproposal.”

For all his obvious physical strength—very Mr. July in the light of day—Ace was as tender as he’d ever been. His hands were like his voice: soft, unassuming, reassuring. It almost tickled when he tugged off her socks. She didn’t think he could’ve been much more careful if he’d been told that some curse had turned her skin to glass that would shatter under the slightest pressure.

“Can I ask you about the scarf now?” Ace requested, pausing after removing her jeans to plant a lingering kiss just above the waist of her underwear.

“Can I ask you about the scarf?” she countered. She raised her eyebrows.

“I want to see it on you.” He blushed. “Just the scarf.”

Nancy tried not to laugh or make a face; she didn’t want to shame Ace for such a benign request… but it was so extremely benign. Honestly, she’d been anticipating something a little edgier from the guy who knew so many knots. They’d never seen each other fully naked though—none of their past hookup locations had made her want to take everything off, and they’d always been in a hurry—so maybe that’d be the thing to really test her limits. She’d already exposed herself emotionally today, so what the heck?

“We can do that,” she said, gasping as Ace began to kiss up her body, slowing when his mouth reached the rise of her breasts over her bra, stopping completely when he found the spot on her neck that made her sigh and clutch at his sides.

She swayed to give him room when he wedged a hand under her back. There was the pressure of his working fingers, then the give of her bra coming unhooked. Ace slipped his hand back out and raised his head. His eyes were full of a profound but undemanding need. Staring back at him, Nancy curled a finger into her bra’s lacy gore and tugged downward. He held himself over her as she pulled her arms free of the straps and tossed the bra aside. His hot breath huffed across her skin.

Ace’s charming idiosyncrasy was probably to blame when she expected him to touch her and he didn’t. Unfailingly, he was there when she needed him, but in between, he frequently surprised her by zigging where others would zag. Right now, it excited her; she understood from the clench of his jaw that he was waiting for total nudity before slackening the restraints on whatever he was holding back. Nancy lifted her bum and wriggled out of her underwear. His eyes swept slowly downward, then back up.

Ace sat back and reached for the scarf.

“Show me how you usually tie it,” he mumbled, offering it back to her. “Please.”

Legs straight out between his knees as he crouched, Nancy sat up too. When Ace’s gaze fell and he unconsciously licked his lips, she wanted to skip the scarf thing and just haul him down on top of her by a fistful of his glorious hair.

She took the scarf and folded it into a thin band, managing not to meet Ace’s eyes until she was positioning the material at her nape. He lowered his gaze to her hands as she wrapped and knotted the scarf against her throat.

“Can I untie it?” he asked thickly.

“Yeah.”

Her voice was breathy, but it wasn’t the scarf that made it hard to breathe, it was the weight of Ace’s concentration. She was sure he could feel the rapid, syrupy beat of her heart beneath her skin as he trailed his fingertips over her before sliding the scarf back into place and replicating her knot.

Nancy couldn’t see it, so she was about to ask how it looked when Ace leaned in and kissed her like the world was ending.

“Mmph!” she hummed against his mouth, surprised, and then, “Mmmmph!” She pulled him closer and they flopped back onto the bed, scrambling to push her bedding down.

His mouth was hot, his hand was rough, sliding up the back of her head and digging into her hair, tousling it possibly beyond what a determined brushing could fix. Breathing hard, Ace left her mouth as quickly as he’d claimed it, stamping a path of hard kisses to her breast and sucking at her nipple until she whined and scored her nails into the back of his neck.

“This is… wow,” she panted. “But I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Hm?”

“Me in this scarf cannot be this hot.”

“You and your proof,” she heard him mutter. He lifted his head and took her hand from his neck. Her heart spun like a carnival ride as he whispered her fingers down his torso. He settled her hand on the stiff bulge in the front of his jeans. “How’s this for proof, Nancy? How’s this for hard evidence?”

Nancy snorted a laugh and Ace’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile.

“Ok,” she said. “You’re into the scarf.”

She tensed the hand he’d placed over his erection and Ace instantly responded by weaving his fingers more securely into her hair. Her pulse leapt.

“I’d like you to be naked now,” she said.

Ace released a tremulous breath as she rubbed her palm over his denim then toyed with his zipper.

“I have no objections.”

She spluttered a startled laugh when he flung himself off of her, hands working fast on his fly while he stood next to her bed. Where’s the fire? she wanted to ask, because they didn’t have to rush, not today. His haste ramped up her own eagerness though—they didn’t have to rush, but he still wanted her with the kind of fervour that made him trip out of his socks—and once everything he’d been wearing was strewn across her bedroom floor, Nancy sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and drew Ace in by his bare hips. She heard him inhale as she ducked to close her lips around the head of his cock.

A couple of times, it sounded like he was going to stop her; there were throaty noises that almost formed words. But then the combination of the bliss of her tongue smoothing up his shaft and the recollection that telling her she didn’t have to do something only made her that much more adamant seemed to make Ace think twice. She could sense when he quit imagining ways of convincing her to let him give pleasure instead of receiving it and just began to enjoy himself. For one thing, there were his groans. For another, his hand snuck back into her hair.

At first, he only grabbed her hair to lift it, keeping it clear of Nancy’s face as she plunged down and added her stroking hand at his base on the way back up. But then the fingers of Ace’s other hand caressed the scarf. That hand stayed gentle while all of his tension, restraint, and desire went to the one in her hair, guiding her up and down his length with increasing abandon. Debauched Ace? Twitching in her mouth and grunting with every teasing swipe of her tongue? She was obsessed. Her eyes closed and she mmmed around him.

“Shitshitshit,” Ace babbled, cupping her face to signal for her to release him. “Nancy, stop. Nancy, please stop, that feels way too good.”

Mouth and hand retreating, Nancy sat up and flicked her hair over her shoulder.

“And that’s a problem?”

She swallowed and saw Ace’s mind go to another place for a minute before it was back in the present.

“I just really wanna make love to you in a bed,” he blurted. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” she protested, though, actually, her neck was starting to feel the strain of hunching over a little bit.

“For more than five minutes.”

Damn, he saw right through her.

“More than five minutes, huh?” Nancy smirked. “That’s quite a brag.”

If Ace were the type, she was sure he’d have been rolling his eyes. But Ace was a very different type.

“I want you,” he said, stepping in and lifting beneath her thighs to bounce her back farther on the bed, “to be comfortable for hours, so that—” He slunk over her. “—I can take my time.”

“But I think you also want to come. I had you pretty close there.” She traced a finger down the middle of his chest. “Come on, Ace. Hard and fast to take the edge off and then we’ll do it your way?”

She would’ve known the offer had him torn even if she hadn’t been looking right at him, watching the war behind his eyes like a kid with a View-Master and reels of the Blitz. Victory was assigned by the tic of his jaw.

“Ok.”

Nancy pointed a helpful finger towards her nightstand and he located one of the condoms within. Wrapped up, Ace made to hover over her again, but she shook her head.

“I think we got our wires crossed.” Or it was intentional. (It was intentional.) “I’m gonna need you on your back.”

“Whatever you want, Nancy.”

“How selfless,” she said, studying the naked lust on his face when he rolled onto his back and grabbed for her thighs as she straddled him.

Nancy positioned her hips above his. Spreading her fingers on his chest, she rocked lightly along his cock. Ace’s hands jumped up to her ass.

“Hard and fast?” she checked.

“Hard and fast.” He rubbed against her. “I’ve thought a lot about this. Different position, but…” Ace closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “Nancy, I’m not gonna last.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I heard correctly, I’m going to get hours of you making it up to me.”

His eyes opened when she lined him up and eased down.

It wasn’t five minutes; it could hardly have been thirty seconds, but Nancy really wasn’t focused on counting. God, she was wet from all his gratuitous shirtlessness. She pitched violently back and forth across his lap while Ace pounded up from beneath her. She’d never heard him swear like that before. She’d never heard herself swear like that before, and she’d rarely exhibited self-control on par with his.

With her fingers in his hair and his hooked around her scarf, a shout ripped out of him that raised goosebumps all over Nancy’s body. It didn’t quite get her off, but Ace went to work on that the instant his hips stopped snapping and he got rid of the condom, pushing her onto her back and pressing his face between her thighs.

His technique was sloppy, his finesse basically gone, but his tongue was eager and the pressure was unrelenting. Nancy clutched the back of his head as he ate at her, ass lifting off the mattress and feet pressing down hard to ground her. A single squirm of her hips was a slippery slope—no pun intended—to writhing against Ace’s mouth, but he only moaned against her and the vibration showed her more stars than you could spot from the bluffs on a clear night. Nancy came hard and fell limply back onto the bed. Ace hauled himself up lazily beside her, but he’d earned his laziness.

“Yeah,” he agreed when she couldn’t find the words.

“I mean, Jesus,” she finally got out.

Propping himself up on an elbow, Ace undid the knot at her throat and whisked her scarf away.

“Done with the scarf?” she asked.

“For now.”

She could see the little ripple of a smile on his lips and she leaned into him, pressing her face to his chest. He gathered her close with an arm around her back. She felt him sigh into her hair, then breathe in the smell of her. Nancy was doing the same. This was different, homier, but still exciting. Committing to a relationship had only made this aspect of it more fun to indulge in. And there was more indulging to do, Ace was reminding her, fingers already skating lightly up and down her spine.

But he was faithful to what he’d said about taking his time. This was no automatic, perfunctory arm movement—she could feel the purposefulness in the brush of his fingertips. Ace was soaking up these minutes spent holding her, and so was Nancy. She got used to the tidal in and out of his breathing, thoroughly relaxed when he eventually slid his hand to her breast and bent his head to kiss her.

The heat rekindled quickly; she felt that and his growing erection between them when he hitched the bend of her knee up to his hip.

“What do you want?” Ace murmured between breathless kisses, his warm palm pressing her damp hair to the back of her neck. He returned to her breast, massaging. Nancy moaned and pulled him closer with her leg.

“Tell me how I feel,” she said.

His hand ran up the outside of her thigh, rough from the dry winter air (she was going to lotion the crap outta his hands after this). It rounded the top, slipped lower, and then he was exploring between her legs. He kept his eyes locked on hers as his fingers rubbed over and past her clit with a belligerent nonchalance. At her entrance, he stopped, fondling her, pressing inside as he watched her face.

He pressed deeper.

Curled his fingers.

Said, “Tell me yourself.”

Nancy bore down on his hand, flushed as Ace stared at her riding his fingers. She couldn’t tell which movements were whose, but she heard herself spouting anguished noises when he just missed the right spot and shameless pleas when he made contact. His arm, when she seized it, was far too big to wrap her fingers around, but it was firm and it was Ace and she could feel the jump in his muscles when he shifted to hit a different angle. His lips were pressed together in concentration until she tempted them apart with her tongue.

“I feel so fucking good,” she sighed out, eyelashes fluttering, eyes threatening to close because his fingers were so strong and his hips were twitching like he was imagining it was his cock inside her instead. “How do you feel?”

“Deeply in love,” Ace said without hesitation.

She stared at him blankly. Her hips slowed, though his hand did not.

“It’s fine,” he said to her silence, shaking his head. “If you don’t want—”

“Can I change my answer?” Nancy interrupted.

His face flicked through a series of expressions.

“Because same,” she added, just to be clear, eyes darting between his wide ones.

Ace exhaled heavily through his nose, clenched his jaw, and used his body to urge her onto her back. She didn’t have a chance to miss his fingers before he was wedging his thigh between hers, grasping her hip to grind her against him.

“I hoped you felt the same,” he said.

“Yes. Yes.” He was kissing up her neck.

She was climbing fast and, when Ace noticed, he blinked and pushed her hips to the bed, removing the friction of his thigh. Nancy groaned, not in pleasure.

“Keep going.”

“I’m not stopping,” he said. “I just wanna take things a little bit slower.” His mouth went back to her neck.

“Fuck slower,” she grumbled.

“Exactly.”

There was no point in saying anything—she was certain he knew what she meant.

Nancy buried her hand in Ace’s hair and sighed over his rough, wet kisses under her jaw. Her thigh nudged his and he let her reposition until her legs were wrapped around his hips. Ace wasn’t so coy that he didn’t let his erection rest, hot and rigid, on her abdomen, didn’t give himself permission to rub lightly against her when her hand ran gradually, deliberately, worshipfully up his arm and across his chest.

When her fingers skimmed downward, he backed up so she couldn’t reach any lower than his navel. Held up by his elbows, he focused his mouth and hands on her breasts, like that would distract her. But Nancy bided her time; she let her touch linger in places she’d previously only made a swift pass at. And she loved it. Her nails scratched gently down the back of his head and neck. She encircled him in her arms and smoothed her hands up his back. She kneaded the taut muscle from his shoulders to his neck and Ace groaned and came back up to kiss her.

A few minutes later, she glided a hand down between them again and, this time, he pushed his hips forward enthusiastically. He forced out a slow breath as she wrapped her fingers around his cock and pumped leisurely. She bobbed her chin up and his lips found hers again, though the kisses were disrupted by his quiet moans and her subsequent grinning.

“Whaddaya say?” Nancy asked. “You ready for more?”

“With you? Of course.”

Her tone had been mischievous, his unselfconsciously earnest, so she was speechless as he scuttled off of her to grab the sheet they’d kicked to the foot of the bed. Ace raised it like a kite—a big swoop of his arm to send it billowing over them before it drifted down to cover them completely. He was slightly scrunched, endearingly too tall for her bed. The pale winter sun was still up beyond her sheet and her bedroom blinds and he smiled at her in the twice-filtered afternoon light.

The cotton was cool on her skin and she snuggled close to him. They didn’t kiss, but Nancy watched Ace’s eyes close as he grazed his nose alongside hers. His delicate eyelashes were a blond blur this close up. She pushed his hair back from his face, not with his quotidian effortlessness, but with a tenderness she’d honestly believed she’d buried with her mother. Her finger traced his ear and pet the indentation his earring would slip through. She missed it. He looked good with the earring. She would make a highly biased request for its reappearance, but not just now.

Hand on her waist, Ace gave her a closed-lipped kiss he was slow to draw back from.

“I hate to wreck this great little tent we’ve got here, but protection is on the other side of it.”

“Dammit.”

“It’s ok, we can make a better one sometime. Or a blanket fort. I’m not an expert—yet—but I know a guy.”

“You know a guy?” Nancy was baffled. “A blanket fort guy? What, does he work at Bed Bath & Beyond?”

But Ace, ever mysterious about the strangest things, had already rolled over and half-escaped the sheet. Everything below his chest was still in here with her, but she missed his face and smiled when it returned a handful of seconds later. Watching him roll the condom on felt intimate, even though she’d done it before.

Their heads emerged from beneath the sheet and Ace moved on top of her. His gaze was lowered as he lined himself up, but Nancy touched his chin and he met her eye.

“I love you,” she said, trying it out.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, the way he looked at and into her as she lay in her vulnerability. He gave a faint nod, kissed her, then mumbled, “I love you,” against her lips. That wasn’t so hard, she thought, cupping his face and his elbow as she waited for him, finally patient.

He fingered her again, a steady swirl of her clit as he slid inside her. Nancy exhaled shakily and tightened her grip on his arm. These early languid thrusts felt even better than the fast plunge of sitting astride his lap, and they went on and on, long strokes like sexual Velcro—the satisfying separation, the perfect fastening when pressed back together. Ace dropped closer to her, down on both elbows, and the contact of their hips made her arch beneath him.

She grabbed his ass with both hands and moaned as his thrusts became shorter and sharper.

“Is it still…” Nancy gasped. “…making love… if the headboard hits the wall?”

Which it was. She could hear the rhythmic pok pok of the wood against the paint.

Ace fucked her faster.

“Especially when the headboard hits the wall,” he said.

“Oh god,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. She’d meant to say oh good.

“Oh fuck, Nancy.”

It got sweaty under the sheet. Their limbs quit making sense. Nancy’s legs were limp things one minute and wound desperately around the back of Ace’s thighs the next, urging him to drive into her harder. His ass was a goddamn Bernini, solid and well-muscled as any marble statue you’d be forbidden to feel up at a museum.

And he held her so close. He held her so very close.

“Ace!” she cried out, how she did whenever she needed him.

“I’m here. I’m here I’m here I’m here,” he chanted. “I’m… there.” And so was she, tensing when he tensed, folding his broad shoulders safely into her arms.

—

For a while, she was too shivery with sensation to get up, and she couldn’t stop grinning about it. Ace was smug as he sauntered from her room to use the shower, even before he glanced back to catch her staring at his ass.

When Nancy eventually climbed out of bed, she liked how her room looked. She liked the long, dark sock that had managed to skid all the way across the floor. She liked the nightstand drawer that had been shoved in in haste, not completely closed. She liked the disaster of a bed. They’d rumpled it, he’d rumpled it, like he’d rumpled her life. Ace made her life better, he always had, and it felt good, less lonely, to see the imprint of two people on this room.

She got dressed—same sweater as before, but PJs on the bottom—and met Ace in the hall as he was coming out of the bathroom.

“All yours,” he said, back in his jeans and the shirt that made it hard to keep her eyes on his face. He’d clearly slicked his wet hair back with his hands, too polite a guest to borrow a comb without asking.

Nancy looked him over in dreamy satisfaction.

“Yeah,” she agreed.

She’d only wanted to pee, but the bathroom was holding the steam from Ace’s shower, so she had one too. Knowing he’d still be in her house when she got out, she luxuriated in the hot water. It didn’t feel as good against her bare skin as Ace had felt, but it wasn’t a bad spot to contentedly meander through her new memories of the two of them. This was what she got to have now. This was who she could be—not scared and closed-off, but someone familiar, someone somebody could love and trust that she’d love them back.

Downstairs, she found that Ace had washed everyone’s dishes from earlier and had started on the drying.

“I was supposed to be the one who cleaned up,” she scolded, coming into the kitchen.

Ace turned around and shrugged.

“It’s my party and I’ll dry if I want to.”

“Need any help?”

“Nah, that’s ok. I have a system.”

Nancy sat on one of the stools at the island, leaning forward on her elbows while she watched Ace finish up. This was a man unfettered by a chore wheel; he just cleaned up because he thought it’d be nice to spare her the effort. It was nice, like the view of his back in that shirt. She sighed happily.

“Do you wanna think about dinner, or is that presumptuous?” Ace asked without turning.

“I hope it’s abundantly clear to you that I’d like you to stay for dinner. And breakfast,” Nancy added impishly.

“Well, alright then.”

He stacked his last plate, daintily hung up the green tea towel he’d used, and came around the island.

“So, dinner,” he said, standing close to her. His eyebrows rose inquiringly. “Thoughts?”

She looked away from his expectant face and pulled the cake box towards them. Bess had put the last three slices back inside, ones featuring what remained of the Boyfriend? part of the Be My Boyfriend? message. Nancy turned her smile on Ace.

“We can’t have cake for dinner,” he said sternly.

“Good thing it’s not technically late enough to be considered dinner then.”

It was hilariously easy to bring him on-side; a little prolonged eye contact and lightly tracing the bones in the back of his hand and Ace went to get two forks.

“You know,” he said, words softened by the cake he was still chewing, “I could interpret this as you recruiting me to destroy the evidence.”

“Evidence?” Nancy cocked her head, confused.

“Yeah, before Mr. D can see it.”

She’d have been sad Ace could think that of her if not for the fact that he completely sounded like he was joking.

“I wasn’t going to let my dad find out we’re dating by leaving this cake on the counter for him to stumble upon.”

“Good.” Ace stuck his nose in the air. “I’m worth more than that.”

Nancy grinned.

“I know you are.”

She stabbed her fork into the curlicued question mark, heart-dot and all.

Boyfriend, the cake read, until Ace got his fork in there too and ate the end.

#my writing #Shuck Buddies #Nancy Drew #Nace #Ace [redacted]#Nancy x Ace #Nace fanfiction #Nancy Drew fanfiction #Nancy Drew fic

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