#to be so clear i love those toddlers i really do but oh my god.

[sugared-violets]

absolutely ate shit at work today. there was a blanket on the floor and i stepped on it and slipped, couldn't catch myself on anything, and fell flat on my fucking face. got the wind knocked out of me and didn't even react i just got back up and kept moving, fueled by pure frustration with admin for deciding that i don't need any help putting seven fucking toddlers to sleep

[ohsc]

Imagine Sam with his daughter and she's dressing him up and doing his hair. You know those fairy wings you can wear, her forcing him to wear those and she's wearing a princess dress.

tysm for the request!! i’m a bit rusty so i feel like this kinda sucks and it ended up being much longer than intended lol but i’m loving this verse sm so much more to come :) | juno verse, single dad sam winchester x fem!reader, 1.5k, kid fic, fluff, not proof red, requests open only for juno fics

“Don’t laugh.” Were the first words out of his mouth when he opened the door and saw her stood there.

He had been trying to clean up the apartment when he knew that she was coming over after work — also in an attempt to starve off the giddiness, which hadn’t worked out either — when his daughter had attached herself to his leg and refused to let go until he played with her. Juno, he was convinced, had all of the stubbornness of a Winchester, and he’d rather just give in easily then peel her off of his leg and have a crying toddler and a messy apartment.

Y/N had been visiting more and more over the recent weeks, she had started to work herself into the little routine that he and Juno had been building, and it made him so soft. There hadn’t been somebody that he’d looked forward to seeing like that in a long time.

Her lips were curving upwards as she looked at him, lips pressed together in a clear attempt to not laugh at him. “…you look pretty.”

Juno’s recent game of choice had been dress up, which was honestly just a kinder way of saying she liked to hold him hostage and dress him up until she got bored. His hair was pulled into three pigtails, there were god knows how many butterfly clips up there, and he was pretty sure there were at least two stickers on his face somewhere.

“Thanks,” he rolled his eyes, stepping aside to let her into the apartment. He really tried not to stare as she stepped past, but she really was just so pretty. It would help if he didn’t have Dean in his ear whenever he called telling him that he clearly had a thing for waitresses. “My stylist got bored waiting for you, here.” Sam gently took her jacket from her and hung it up next to his own and Juno’s red coat on the hooks by the door.

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not, you look great.” She giggled, a hand reached up with the intention of touching his hair, but the shout of her name from down the hall took both of their attention.

She crouched down just in time to open her arms to the toddler barrelling down the hall towards her, almost slipping on the material of her princess dress in the process which made Sam wince.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She caught Juno in her arms with a tight squeeze, somehow not knocked to the floor. Sam was so immeasurably soft whenever he got to watch her with his daughter, how much she was adored by Juno and how much she adored her back. It was the most important thing to him, that his daughter liked her. And she really did — more than him, he thought sometimes.

“Oh I missed you so much,” she squeezed his toddler once more before pulling back to look at her, smiling as she touched the puffy skirt of her dress. “Oh don’t you look so pretty, Junie? I love your dress.”

“It’s sleeping beauty’s dress,” Juno informed her, smile full of pink chubby cheeks as she soaked up the praise. “Daddy got it for me for my last birthday, when I was three.” She held up three fingers to show her, somehow covered in glitter that Sam could only dread to think was in his hair.

“Well it’s very pretty,” she beamed, gently smoothing over a few wrinkles in the dress. “Are you dressing up daddy to match?”

“No,” she shook her head, tone firm as if it was obvious. “He’s a fairy,” as if she suddenly just remembered what they’d been doing she frowned and let go of Y/N, clumsily stepping around her to grab at Sam’s hand and tugged with far too much strength for her little body. “Daddy, not done.”

Sam sighed, eyes down on her as she tugged on his arm as if she could pull him down the hallway herself. She had turned her big puppy eyes on, the ones he could never really say no to. “I know, Bug, why don’t you let me make Y/N a coffee and then—”

“No,” she whined, tugging harder. “Now.”

The clouds were forming for a tantrum, it had been that way all afternoon, it’s why he’d settled for letting her play dress up in the first place. She always got cranky after pre-school on Mondays. “Baby—”

“It’s okay,” a hand touched his arm and he turned to look at her. “I know where everything is, I can make one. I did interrupt play time.”

“Thanks,” he breathed, ever grateful for how amazing she was with Juno. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have assumed that she had kids of her own. “Really, I’ll make it up—”

“Daddy.” Juno was whining louder, tugging his arm again, and he just let out a breath as he leaned down to scoop her up onto his arms, settling her on his hip.

“Why are you acting up, hm?” Not really annoyed, he knew she couldn’t really help it, he reached his free hand up to tickle at her side until she giggled. Satisfied that he’d successfully worked around a tantrum he led Y/N down the hall with his daughter on his hip, though she already knew the place like the back of her hand. If he wasn’t so nervous he would’ve invited her to stay the night already.

He watched her disappear into the kitchen to make herself a drink before he took Juno back into the living room, and returned to his spot on the floor where he’d been held captive for the past twenty minutes. The floor was littered with hair clips and tiaras and plastic shoes which he’d clean up when she went to bed, but he didn’t really mind the mess if it meant she was happy.

“Daddy,” she was pulling at his hair again, stood on his thighs, only not falling off onto the carpet because of his hands on her sides. He watched her reach for another hair clip, a glittery yellow butterfly, and tried not to wince as he felt it’s teeth scrape against his scalp as she shoved it into place. “Can Y/N play too?”

Juno had been attached to her ever since they’d become friends. It was sweet, endearing really. Aside from himself and Dean, the only other adults she really got to see were her teachers at pre-school. Juno really adored her, clung to her every moment she could. She’d come with Sam to pick Juno up from school once and she’d practically screamed across the playground when she saw her.

“If she wants to, Junie,” he hummed, holding her steady as she leaned to the floor to grab something else. “She had a long day at work, she might be tired.”

“I still play after school.” Her nose scrunched up in a way that made him smile.

“Waitressing is a little different to school, baby. It’s not very fun.”

Juno hummed like she was thinking about it as she scrambled off of his lap to reach into her toy box. “Then she should get a new job,” she settled on, tugging out her pink fairy wings from the crate. “A fun one.”

Sam nodded a little, smiling softly as he murmured, “I agree.”

Little hands pulled at his arm, and he leaned forwards like she’d moved him herself. The elastic loops of the fairy wings were a little small for his shoulders, but he didn’t complain about the tightness of the band as he helped her get them on him, worth it to hear her giggle when it was all done.

“Those look great,” he looked up and watched as Y/N walked into the room, two mugs in her hands, one of which she placed down on the coffee table for him. “You did a really great job, Junie, now he really looks like a fairy.”

The way she was smiling at him was making his face heat up. Jesus, he needed to get a grip.

“Can you play?” Juno clambered off of Sam’s lap again to head over to her, grabbing some butterfly clips from the floor on her way. “Pretty please?”

“Baby, I’m sure she’s probably really tired—”

“It’s okay,” she waved him off with a fond little smile, before she looked back to Juno. “I’ll play if you make a deal with me, sweet girl.”

Juno nodded furiously like it was the most important thing in the world.

“If you promise me that you’ll eat your vegetables with dinner you can dress me up however you like, hm?”

Juno beamed and nodded, her little pinky clunkily hooking around the one that Y/N held up.

Sam met her eyes over Juno’s head, mouthing a thank you that earned him a smile in return. God, he was smitten.

[agaypanic]

Hello! I'd love to request Charlie Swan with a teacher girlfriend. Perhaps he comes to visit on his lunch or something and sees how attached the kids are to her and it makes him happy to see how caring she is. Please and thank you!(I work with pre k but my former class was todds and they are still clingy 💖💖)

Lunch Break (Charlie Swan X Teacher!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chief Swan visits his girlfriend on his lunch break, and can’t help but adore the way she is with her students.

A/N: i know nothing about taking care of or teaching little kids lol

***

Charlie wasn’t used to being around a toddler, let alone twenty of them. Even when his daughter Bella was at that age, he didn’t see her much. 

Yet here he was, sitting in his girlfriend’s classroom, having lunch with her while a group of toddlers napped on the floor.

“So, how’s your day been?” You asked in a whisper, picking at the burger and fries that Charlie had brought you from the Carver Cafe.

“Oh, not much.” He responded in an equally low voice, but more gruff. His fingers smoothed over his mustache before speaking again. “Still looking into those missing persons cases, but we’ve been coming up with nothing.”

“You’ll find something, bear.” You squeezed his shoulder, and he leaned into your touch. “You always do.”

“Yeah, maybe… But enough about me, how’s your day?”

You let out a tiny laugh, not surprised that Charlie would bounce the attention onto you as soon as he could.

“Well, today we had an art day.” You gestured to one of your tables on the opposite side of the room, covered in different drying papers. “Watercolor, crayon, markers, that kind of thing. That was really fun. I know I shouldn’t play favorites, but I really like Delilah’s. You know her mom, right? Samantha?” Charlie nodded after a quick moment of thought, and so you continued. “Well, she wanted to make a meadow, so she covered her paper in green, and then she stamped little fingerprints all over as flowers. I mean, you kinda have to ask her what it is to figure out what it is, but I don’t know, it was really cute and- oh my god, I’m rambling, huh?” You covered your mouth to stop more word vomit from spilling, a little giggle slipping past your fingers.

Charlie pulled your hand away, laying a kiss on your knuckles. He nudged your knee with his own, a coy smile on his lips.

“No, I like hearing you talk.” Your cheeks reddened, and you scrunched your nose at him. He squeezed your hand. “Come on, keep going. What happened after painting?”

“Read the kids a story.” You answered, trying to remember the title. “They really like that Llama Llama book. But some of the kids really wanted ‘Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus!’ so I told them I’d read that after nap time. Then they all had food, fell asleep, and then you came with lunch.” You ate a fry before stealing a sip of Charlie’s coffee. You liked how he didn’t mind, instead watching you with a fond expression. “Which is delicious, by the way, thank you.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

“Ms. Y/n?” A tiny voice sounded from one of the sleeping mats. You gave Charlie’s hand a quick squeeze before letting go and standing up from your chair.

“Jayden?” You asked quietly, even though you knew it was him from his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Bad dream.” The little boy answered, rolling off his cot and looking at you with bleary eyes and a frown.

“Aw, I’m sorry, honey.” You said softly, crouching down close to him. “Do you want a hug?”

He nodded a few times, carefully walking through his sleeping classmates to reach you. He latched his arms around your neck, and you patted his back, waiting until he felt better.

Charlie saw the interaction from the corner of his eye, not wanting little Jayden to feel watched. He couldn’t help but smile at how quickly you were able to comfort him. It was clear that you were made for this kind of work, being so caring and nurturing without even thinking about it.

“Feeling better?” You asked Jayden as he let go of you, and he nodded. You smiled at him. “I’m glad. Now, you have a couple more minutes before we gotta start waking up. Do you wanna lay back down?” Jayden nodded again, and with a little wave of his hand, he tiptoed back over to his mat. 

When he was settled, you stood up from your crouched position and went back to Charlie, who was looking at you with a twinkle in his eye.

“What?” You asked, finishing off the rest of your food.

“Nothing.” He said, shaking his head a bit. Charlie looked at his watch and sighed, realizing his break was almost over. “I should probably leave. The boys’ll need me back at the station soon.”

“Okay.” You said with a slight pout, wishing you had more time with him. The two of you cleaned up, Charlie insisting that he could throw the trash away on his way out. “I’ll see you later, bear.”

“See you soon, sweetheart.” Charlie kissed your cheek and went to the door, giving you a wave before exiting the room.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Scott and Hope’s child (Hank Jr. Edition)

Scott Lang/Hope van Dyne x child!reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: “Scott and Hope have a baby girl (reader). And everything seems to be fine, but somewhere from the age of five, it becomes clear that the reader is a complete copy of her grandfather Hank Pym, that is: she is incredibly smart, she loves ants (she can talk about them for hours), she also has problems controlling anger (she hit a guy in the face at school for saying that ant-man sucks), thinks that there is no one smarter than her and her grandfather, and she also transferred his sarcastic communication style and views on things and people around, for example, when she first met Tony, she said: "You can never trust Stark."”

somewhere in the distant future a special kid was born

and that special kid had special parents and special grandparents

and those parents and grandparents were two generations of superheroes who saved countless lives (and, well, the world)

so it was no surprise to them that this next generation would be just as intelligent and caring as the ones before them

*cue a toddler with crayons in class*

“and then my grandpa asked the ants nicely to fly him to a bunch of different places and do all these cool things like move stuff around and like do other stuff” -you rambling on

“do you like anything besides ants?” -your teacher

“no” -you, continuing to draw ants on your paper

hank and janet were quite proud grandparents

and scott and hope, your wonderful amazing parents…couldn’t get enough of it

“honey, what about wasps? wasps are cool, right?” -hope

“no” -you

“she’s spending too much time with my dad” -hope

“well, he’s the only babysitter we’ve got since cassie got that new job” -scott

“oh, you mean our old job? yeah, miss those days where we could go flying around getting into trouble and beating people up” -hope

“well, you promised we’d retire so y/n wouldn’t end up with a childhood like yours” -scott

“y/n’s gonna want to be a superhero when they get older, arent they?” -hope

“let’s not think too far ahead. it might kill me” -scott

scott reads you his biography every night before bed

and you always giggle at the parts where your mom and grandpa bully him

“hey, not funny!” -scott

“so funny” -you

“dont get any ideas” -scott

“daddy, are you gonna get arrested again?” -you

“if i do it’ll be grandpa hank’s fault” -scott

you continued spending time with grandpa hank and grandma janet

and they spoiled the crap out of you

hank…got you an ant farm

“now you’re just being ridiculous, hank” -janet

“what? i’m just having some bonding time with my grandchild! hope never wanted anything to do with me growing up” -hank

once you started getting older, you wanted to hang out in grandpa’s lab allll the time. day and night

your parents hated it

“hey, think this one will suck us all into the quantum realm?” -scott

“it was one time!” -cassie

cassie was at hank and janet’s a lot, too, actually. they always wanted to help her with her suits and gadgets and all that

and make sure she had plenty of pym particles

“you have enough, right? here, take some more, i have plenty” -hank

“grandpa, please, i have more than enough, thank you” -cassie

“can i have some pym particles?” -you

“we can play with them in the backyard next time youre over” -hank

you draw new suit designs for cassie all the time

some of them she actually incorporates into her suits

and as you get older, you try to start designing more tech for her

“y/n is really scaring me” -hope

“why?” -scott

“just watch her and my parents together…they’re the same” -hope

“dear god, what have we done” -scott

“dad, look at this new pym particle powered weapon, i just finished the prototype!” -you

“okay, now i’m mad because where was this when i needed it!” -scott

“fifteen to twenty years too late” -hope

“we should have gotten together sooner” -scott

“i disagree” -hope

“wow, not even a pity agreement” -scott

asking your parents if they’ll get back into crime fighting

they said no

asking if you can get into crime fighting

they said no again

so you just kinda stockpiled all your ideas

and did everything you could to further your grandpa’s work

and help your sister

and keep your parents’ minds at ease (doesn’t really work)

and maybe one day you’ll be able to ride those ants and kick some ass like you always dreamed

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @johnmurphyisqueer // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @procrastinatingsapphictrash // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @petersgroupie // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @bad4amficideas // @sheridans-dynamos // @simsrecs // @prettysbliss // @skdkdkckfk // @simp-legend // @zoeyserpentluck // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @evilcr0ne // @v0idl1nq // @ruvaakke // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @amirahiddleston // @beth-gallagher22 // @brutal-out-here // @rqmanoff // @elenavampire21 // @mymelodymia // @pheonixfire777 //

[theonetruegnome]

Oh my god it's been like 4 days, I'm sorrryy, you must all be so mad at me, I'm sorry. But at the same time, I feel I am constantly churning out content and feel somewhat anxious about not pacing myself. I'm sure I have enough steam left to at least tie up any loose ends, so don't worry, the story will finish itself. But I just wanna know; Should I pick back up my old pace of 'one thing every day or so', or do you prefer waiting a few days? Feedback on this would be greatly appreciated. Anyway, enjoy the show!

There was complete silence following Conk's words. Eli was staring, mouth agape in shock, at the small figure. She was short, no doubt about that. She came barely up to her brother's midriff. Yet she seemed much larger than she actually was, due to the large amount of lilac downy feathers covering her whole body. The fluffy young feathers looked soft to the touch and worked to make her appear older and stronger than probably she was. The only parts of her body discernible from the plumage were her hands and the part of her face not hidden by her fringe. She wore a pair of faded booties with very heavily patched soles, as well as a deep purple scarf that was a bit too big for her, having been tied up several times so as not to appear ridiculous. Near her chin, sewn into the fabric, were the initials 'C.O Featherby'. The entire time they had seen her, her face wore the brightest smile any of them had seen, and that's coming from the group that frequently hung out with Callum!

The silence stretched on. Eli and Dandy were both blushing a prominent red. Mana had one hoof pressed against the bridge of her nose. Finally Eli spoke up.

'Conk, I am so sorry, I-I didn't know.'

'Eh, it's fine, these things happen.

'No, really, that was... That was just bad, we... Sorry...' 'Yeah, we shouldn't have assumed... Sorry' The elephant averted his eyes down to his feet while Dandy's cheeks went redder still.

'You guys apologise too much. I really don't mind, and I'm sure she doesn't, do you?' 'Whuh?' 'See?'

Eli gave a weak chuckle at the young hen's confusion, face clearing somewhat of the red incursion. Callum approached the chick and bent down to talk to her,

'So what's your name then little lady?' 'Chamomile!' 'Well, isn't that a pretty name! Do you like your name?' 'Uh-huh! What's your name?' 'My name's Callum.' 'Your name's pretty too!'

As Callum kept up the conversation, the rest approached the trio to get a better look at the fluffy little bean.

'So... You have a sister. That's new then?' 'Huh? Oh, no, she's three years and four months old now. Really *Yawn* Growin' up fast. Ahh.' 'What?! How can I only be finding out about this now? I've been to your house like a dozen times this year!' '*Streeetch!* I guess you're just not observant.' 'Conk, I have five siblings, two of which are younger sisters. I find that very unlikely.' 'And yet you didn't even notice the toddler that suddenly appeared in my house?' 'Says the guy who forgot my birthday two years in a row and told me a story to compensate.' 'You love my stories! And I didn't exactly hear you complaining when I said 'The End'.' 'I was passed out for the next eighteen hours, I didn't get a chance to complain.'

As Conk tries to answer, he's cut off;

'Alright, settle down, neither of you is perfect, we can agree on that. Let's just end it there.' 'Hey, why is she wearing your clothes?' 'Why do you ask?' 'It's just that it looks like you have a poorly-made Mini Me following you around. Nothing else.' 'They're hand-me-downs. She was so happy when she first got 'em she's never taken 'em off.' 'That can't be true!' 'Those are her clothes, P.Js and even her bath clothes. If they need a wash we have to sponge her down and huh- *Yawn* hang her outside to dry as well. She loves them that much.' '...Ok, that's the most adorable thing I've ever heard.'

Chamomile, having finished talking, toddles over, looks up at Conk and raises her arms above her head.

'Up! Up!'

'OhMyGod it got cuter.'

'*Snap!* This is one for the scrapbook!'

'Okay Chicklet, *Oof* uuuup we go!' Conk Groans like a middle-aged man with a bad back as he lifts his sister onto his shoulders. Next to the perfect little chick right next to him, the others notice for the first time how truly awful he looks. Feathers sticking up at odd angles, eyelids twitching, he's shaking like a leaf and his eyes are so bagged it looks like he's been punched in the face.

'Uhhh, Conk?' 'Huh? What's up?' 'What's up is that you look like the grim reaper. How long did you sleep last night?' 'I pretty much didn't, and now I can't tell if I'm dead or not. Which is why I'm going to be taking this little pickle home for a nap, she's too energetic.' 'Nooooo! I dun wanna sleep!' Chamomile tries to stand up and climb away from Conk's reach pulling on many feathers in the process. 'Oww! Ok, Cham, I'm going home to rest anyway and I should take you home for Mom and Dad's sake, they'll be worried sick about you. You're sweet for trying, but you can't just go toddling off looking for me when you miss me.' 'Bu' I Don't wanna sleep. I wanna play.'

'I mean, we could take care of her while you go home and sleep.'

Conk's head whips around to look at Sunny. 'What? No, not possible. Out of the question.' 'Why? We-' She glances over at Dandy, Eli and Mana. 'I am responsible enough to take care of her, so you can tell your parents that. And she won't be bored at all with Callum and Leah fussing over her.' Conk glances over at the two, who are looking at Chamomile like a pair of arsonists would look at a gas station. Okay, they'd all take good care of her, but... 'But, I'm her brother...' He stifled a yawn and rubbed his temples. God his head hurt. 'So? Nobody ever said she had to be looked after by a relative-' 'Gimme the baby!' 'Woah! Tone it down Callum! You're at a fourteen, we'd like you at like a four, max, ok?' 'Ok, sorry, I just got excited...' '...I... I guess you guys could hold onto her for a few minutes...' He gently lowered her to the ground and knelt down to speak to her face to face. 'Cham, you're going to stay with Sunny and the others for a while, ok? I'll be at home taking a nap. If you want to go home, just tell someone and they'll take you home, got it?' 'Otay! I love you!' 'I love you too Cham.' Conk gently kissed her on the forehead before letting go of her. As he trotted away, he looked back. Chamomile had wrapped herself around Leah's legs, the latter appearing to be experiencing cute-induced hysteria.

Conk slowly trudged the well-known path back home, forcing himself not to drop into nearby hedgerows and flower beds to pass out. Finally, he reached the Featherby family household. He stepped inside, mumbled to his parents where his sister was and that they shouldn't worry, and tucked himself into bed. A single thought swam to the forefront of his mind as his breathing slowed and his limbs went light. 'I must be the luckiest cockerel... in the world... To have... such good friends...' Finally he closed his eyes and entered the familiar folds of calm, numbing oblivion.

[gokartkid]

medium-fail actor!daniel pr relationship with model!max au

There’s coffee and a croissant waiting for Daniel when he comes in, which from Christian, means that he’s about to drop the craziest and most off-putting scheme on him. 

He starts hypothesising in his brain: a summer of non stop convention circuits with sweaty nerds; starring in a movie where he’ll wear so many prosthetics he’s unrecognisable; creating, fucking, NFT’s in his image.

Christian at least has the courtesy to wait until Daniel is a few bites in to drop the bomb.

“We think,” a pause, for dramatic effect, “that the best thing for your image right now, would be for you to be in a relationship.”

Daniel pauses.

That was actually something unexpected.

“Okay,” he draws out the vowel, “great to know that you’re concerned with my love life Christian. Got a little problem from the get-go, I don’t want to be in a relationship. Thanks anyway, good chat.”

Christian chuckles, like Daniel’s said something mildly funny; it’s the kind of laugh you do to a little kid when you don’t know what they’re on about. 

“No, Daniel,” and he has this magic ability to sound accidentally — or not so accidentally — condescending. Daniel leans back in his chair, and takes a long sip of his coffee. It’s hot enough that he can feel its path going down his throat, settling in his oesophagus “the idea is that it would be set up with you and someone that we, effectively, have vetted. You go out for a good while, get serious, and then break up amicably.”

“A PR relationship,” Daniel deadpans. It seemed to be all the rage in the industry right now; young, attractive, instagrammable couples popping up all over the place with mutual benefits in the fame-game. Daniel had thought — naively, it seems — that he would be able to avoid it. 

“A PR relationship,” Christian confirms. He has the decency to give it to Daniel straight when they get to the point of it.

“And—“ Daniel rubs at his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel a migraine brewing, purely brought on by this conversation, “why would I do this? Like, I’m really leaning towards a fuck no right now Christian. This sounds like a really shit idea, just being honest.”

“Well—“ Christian’s always been good at keeping his head when Daniel is about to blow his top like this. He leans forwards towards him, hands spread wide and looking completely non-threatening in his stupid knit jumper, “I— we, don’t see it that way Daniel. We think it’ll re-invigorate your brand, generate interest, good promo before your next feature.”

“Uh huh,” Daniel says blankly, “this is still not answering my question Christian, because all of those things are do-able with a regular press circuit.”

Christian hesitates. 

Another bad sign, red alarm bells ringing.

“With the awards season coming up,” he says delicately, the precision of a surgeon dressing a wound, “there’ve been a few communications, that in order for you to be a solid candidate—“

“Oh my god,” Daniel says, and the realisation is an anvil coming down on his head, “you want me to date some nothing person for a year to win an Oscar. What the fuck Christian. And, this is a real question, what the fuck are you thinking?”

“In order for you to be a solid candidate,” Christian interrupts him, calm even tone as if Daniel hasn’t said anything, “you need to demonstrate some maturity, and solidity, and a relationship would help you do that.”

“I am fucking mature,” Daniel says, and tries not to feel like a toddler throwing a tantrum as he takes an angry bite of his bribe-croissant, “people can be single and mature Christian.”

“People,” Christian is decidedly not making eye contact with him now, “can be single and mature, if they aren’t coming off the back of a public relationship breakdown. To be clear, by public relationship breakdown, I do mean the restaurant incident.”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Daniel says, immediately, “and it’s blown over now.”

“Has it?”

A pause.

Daniel shuts his mouth. He knows when he’s pushing something too far and more than that, he knows when he’s being a bald-faced liar. He switches tack.

“Okay. Who is it then, this hypothetical girl I’d be seeing.”

“Well,” Christian says, and he seems relieved to be back on script, “first of all, it’s not a girl. It’s a man, an up-and-coming model.”

Daniel has to fight not to groan.

“Is this some fucked up revenge plot for coming out as bisexual while I was dating a girl Christian, because I get that you couldn’t generate the kind of narrative you wanted from that but it was still, like, a big deal.”

It’d gotten him on the cover of multiple pride magazines and a Vanity Fair exclusive, which to Christian was like winning the Lottery. Daniel still thinks privately that the social capital of having a bisexual multiple time Oscar-nominated client probably gives him a — perfectly professional — managerial boner. 

Christian just laughs again, doesn’t really respond to what Daniel’s just said. It’s a tried and true tactic of his.

“We think you’ll like him,” he barrels on, without interruption, “he’s nice enough Daniel, and it’ll be good for his career too, being seen with you.”

“Sure.”

Daniel has his own thoughts on this, on the YSL-too-skinny-simpering-personality guy he’s already made up in his brain, that he’s about to be saddled with for months. He knows that Christian can read them all on his face but— the most frustrating thing is that Daniel can see how this works too.

He knows the problems the Academy has with him. Daniel isn’t the type — the stupid, oblivious type — to not notice getting nominated three times and never winning, walking into the Dolby theatre and its gilded stage losing its luster every time. 

Daniel used to relish coming off as free, and changeable, and real. 

It was like a superpower, to be able to do whatever he wanted, get as drunk as he wanted with his friends, as high and wasted as he wanted, and have it come off as a dazzling star in his 20’s living a life that everyone would be jealous of. Only, the articles started to go from fun-loving, to problem-seeking, to commitment-phobic, to photos of him hungover in the mornings sunglasses on and holding up a hand against the paparazzi. 

He stares at the grey listless sky, clouds fat with rain and nods along to whatever else Christian’s saying, logistics and press and staged shoots. 

“—so I’ll send you his details, and we’ll set up an initial meeting then?”

An initial meeting; what a way to talk about a future fucking paramour. 

“Yeah,” he says, phone buzzing with a google alert, “sure.”

[yakumtsaki]

I’d like to start this update with this shocking image of SHAJAR TICKLING JOJO. Since when do you two remotely interact?!?

-Oh lighten up, will ya? -My beloved daughter is right, look at those snapdragon animations, everything’s literally coming up roses around here! 

YA RIGHT, ‘things are going great’, what bs are you gonna come up with next??

-Things ARE going great! Look at me suddenly being a good father!

-And look at me becoming a professional party guest! And I’ve been super loyal to Don too, huhu!🌸

Ok well excuse me if I don’t bust out the confetti yet, historically we’ve had some difficulties maintaining a winning streak around here..

Sugar, there you are! Now what disaster do you currently have going on, spit it out.

-No disasters, just enjoying my day off! 

WHAT IS HAPPENING 

-I’ve just read this great book about the importance of skin-to-skin contact for newborns!

-And I rolled the want to potty-train Felina!

-And I just love changing diapers all of a sudden! 

OK SERIOUSLY WTF. Are we gonna have our first calm update.. EVER??

Oh man here we go, here we go, what are you two arguing about!

-Nothing, we’re just talking about how nice it is that those spicy updates are a thing of the past! -It’s so much better to treat each other with love and respect!💗

Are you people trying to drive me crazy??

-I got promoted again! I can’t wait to share the good news with my family and then spend quality time with my children! 

OH MY GOD ENOUGH

The kittens grew up and Shinok is the automatic heir per my tradition of picking the chonkiest cat! The puppies also grew up..

..and I think it’s clear who the dog heir is LOL. Veronica where the hell did your giant ears come from?? 

-I don’t know but they’re a lewk! 

They most certainly are! The non-heir pets are of course going off to have much better lives with Wulf and Angel❤️

Speaking of ❤️, it is with a heavy ❤️ that after trying to turn Jojo into a werewolf for the better part of a century, I’M NOW CURING HIM PER HIS WISH. Jojo truly, I have no words. 

-Well then you’re gonna love the want I’m about to roll tomorrow!

GO TO HELL

Things continue to go UNNERVINGLY well. Liz topped her career and rolled the want to teach Felina to talk-

-followed by the want to teach her to walk! (Look at their identical noses, awwwww🧡)

Then Sophito rolled the want to teach her a nursery rhyme, at which point something incredibly shocking has become clear. Sit down for this: we are dealing with our first pair of good parents in the main house.

DUDE. THEY’RE EVEN HAVING CONVOS ABOUT PARETING I CAN’T. REMEMBER WHEN YOU USED TO BANG ON THE UNI POOL TABLE??

-Oh haha, we sure were wild back then! Now dear, I read about this great new educational toy- 

-Oh I know the one, it said it helps with cognitive development!  -Yes!  -We need to get two, Bartholomew is about to become a toddler!

Oh right he is!

That’s how calm shit is around here, that I actually REMEMBERED a birthday. Alright Barth, time to grow up! Please don’t get the Frances eyebrows, please, please, please-

-YES THANK GOD. Now let’s check the ole personality panel..

..OH NO HE HAS SHAJAR’S PERSONALITY. DON’T EVEN THINK OF ROLLING POPULARITY, YOU HEAR ME, YOU LITTLE BRAT?? Happy birthday etc.

Speaking of Shajar, Cyneswith remains a better grandma than her despite not being these kids’ grandma. 

-I wanna teach her how to talk!🌸  

You what now?

-Ok baby now say ‘chair, huhu💗’! -Chaiw, huhu💗! -YAYYYY🌸

Alright I’m starting to develop a theory here since Cyn is so ridic partial to Felina but doesn’t seem to give a crap about Bartholomew, that maybe Cyn wanted a daughter?? Idek dude, NOTHING MAKES SENSE ANYMORE.

Look at this shit.

LOOK.

LOOK. Like these are legit some never-before-seen images, where did this all functionality come from??? Also man Barth is ROTUND, his cheeks! Liz and Soph really made some cute bbs🧡

It’s time for Felina’s birthday, which I ALSO REMEMBERED. Jojo does the honors since this is probably the last birthday where he’ll be with us💔

OMG SHE’S A LIL SOPHITO CLONE

-I sure am! Now if you’ll excuse me, grandma Cyn said she has bought some new clothes for me!

OH GOOD LORD CYN

[hussyknee]

Oh my gd, THANK YOU so much for relogging my post and your tags <3 seeing your post in a sea of jokes and memes was such a relief and it made me feel like I wasn't alone anymore. Please take care, and I hope life is kind to you

You aren't alone, and I'm so so very sorry for what you've had to deal with on your post! It was really important! I'm exactly as tired of everyone focusing on shouting down infighting and valorizing individuals and memeing. This list exposes how Islamphobia isnt over, how big a problem Russophobia is becoming (to be clear the list revealed "Russian-sounding" names which can mean anything; Tankies taking this as an opening will be shot on sight), and the fact that they're criminalizing anyone who has ever acted against USAmerican and British imperial interests. People have been so dead convinced about the utility and necessity of the No Fly List that the Obama administration tried to ban guns to people on it as a "bare minimum" measure. BAN GUNS FOR WHOM? TODDLERS? MUSLIMS AND NON-WHITES, THOSE PEOPLE FAMOUS FOR MASS SHOOTINGS? PEOPLE WHO WENT TO A PEACE MARCH?? It was just more security theater, just more reinforcing the criminalizing of minority citizens and the power of the surveillance state, absolutely nothing with any teeth to prevent domestic terrorism.

Delegitimizing the No Fly, hammering it into everyone's heads that Bad People Lists exist primarily to victimize innocent people, is one of the most important gains we can make against the surveillance state. And ALL these white fools can do is decide they're the Moste Oppressed and all they can do is joke to ''''cope''"". Cope with what? Are they the ones risking being deported?

It's not about Twitter or Tumblr or Gen Z kids, it's that Western leftism is entrenched in the discourses of white young upper middle class fools who can't confront their own privilege any better than the right-wing can.

@ white queers – for the love of God, learn when to shut up and reblog.

Link to OP's post.

[skylarsin7]

Chapter 12: War Games

They parked in a field just inside the city limits of Hawkins, a huge empty space of waving emerald grass. Here they prepared their weapons. Metal trash can lids became nail-studded shields, serrated knives strapped to poles became spears. Nancy sat off to the side with Max, sawing off the barrel of her newly acquired shotgun. The metallic clanking of nails being driven into aluminum should have kept Lily's mind from wandering, but it didn't. She watched Eddie and Dustin work side by side as she whittled wooden practice arrows, the older boy teaching the younger how to drive the nails without catching his fingers in the process. An image of a setting much like this one claimed her attention, sweeping her away.

Eddie chased a wobbly toddler, crouching low and scuttling after him like a crab. Lily sat in the grass, cradling a slumbering infant in her arms. Eddie’s magnificent mane was tied back in a ponytail, as it had been since their son first discovered that hair was fun to pull. And it wasn't nearly as fun for his daddy as it was when Lily yanked on his curls. Eddie had traded his skulls and winged hogs for a simple silver band worn on his left ring finger. He still wore that guitar pick necklace around his neck, chipped and worn that it was. He wasn’t any less the Eddie she had fallen in love with, but had become something far greater. Eddie, the father that wouldn’t abandon his children like his old man did. A husband that would protect those he loved at any cost. He was the man she would die for, and the father her children deserved. 

Lily shook her head violently, dispelling the image and bringing herself back to the now. Her heart hammered like an erratic drum and the little voice that accompanied such feelings mocked her. So many obstacles stood between her and that image of bliss she dreamed of. So many ghosts to overcome. Tears came unbidden to her eyes, but she batted them away impatiently. 

  Eddie was testing his newly made shield. "Light, but durable. Deadly…but reliable." Dustin chuckled at his antics. Lily couldn't help but smile through her emotions. "Here me now…there will be no more retreating! From Eddie the Banished." Though his words were said more in the spirit of fun than for any other reason, they sent Lily's heart plummeting into her combat boots. A terrible foreboding stole over her heart, causing it to beat erratically. "There was no shame in running." She thought. If the odds were stacked against you, there was nothing wrong with escaping to fight another day. But she knew in her heart of hearts that there would not be another day. They would either kill Vecna or die trying. 

“Hey, you’re really ready for bat-tle.” Dustin remarked as he rose. Eddie’s face displayed a mix of emotions that ranged from “Oh, my god it's mini me” to “Did I just hear him right? Are we sure he isn’t…high?” Dustin chortled, waiting expectantly for Eddie’s laughter. “You get it?” He asked when it didn't come. Eddie’s expression morphed into “Definitely high. Who gave this child drugs?” “Bat-tle. B-A-T.” Dustin went on. Eddie’s expression did not change. “No? Damn, I thought I had a good one.” 

Disappointment was clear in Dustin’s voice as he set his shield down, unaware that Eddie had already done the same and was readying an attack. Lily couldn’t help but giggle as he launched himself at the younger boy, barreling into him and wrapping his arms around his waist. He turned, and using his momentum, he spun Dustin away playfully. “What are you doing?” The younger boy asked, breathless as he gained his footing, in turn launching himself at Eddie. “You son of a bitch!” Dustin hollered as he ran. Eddie caught him once again around the waist, spinning them and going for a wedgie. “NO WEDGIES, NO WEDGIES!!!” Dustin cried, trying in vain to pull away from the older boy. Eddie straightened, holding Dustin by the back of his head. 

“Never change, Dustin Henderson. Promise me?” Eddie’s voice was soft, sincere. Lily’s heart clenched. If she didn’t know any better, it sounded like an allude to a Goodbye. That protective feeling rose in her chest, blood singing in her ears. She would do anything to protect those boys. She loved them both dearly. “I wasn’t planning on it.” Dustin replied, breathless and a little red in the face. “Good.” Eddie’s smile was radiant. “Goooood.” He echoed, releasing Dustin at last. 

His eyes met hers briefly, and he smiled, the action lighting up his entire face. She knew would never tire of that smile. It was nice to see it after the terror they had endured, despite the odds that were clearly stacked against them. His eyes wandered from hers. “Hey Sinclairs, how are those, uh…those spears coming on?” He asked as he stretched. Lucas gave a thumbs up as he and Erica wrapped spearheads with cloth and twine. Lily watched them, her small smile fading. Her eyes swept the field, watching each pair as they prepared for the fight of their lives. Robin and Steve looked downright cozy as they filled bottles, turning them into Molotov cocktails. For a moment, they seemed like an ideal couple, but the scene lacked a certain chemistry. Besides, she knew that Steve still had feelings for Nancy. She could read it in every line of his face when he looked at her. 

Lily had meant it when she said that she would never return to Philadelphia. That place wasn’t her home. Hadn’t been for nearly three years. This was her family now. Her home. And she would do anything it took to protect it. 

Lily stood, rolling her shoulders and tested the throng of her bow. It was tight, and for that she was grateful. The power that had pulsed through her in the War Zone seemed to have healed her shoulder more than just what was on the surface, because it didn't hurt to flex it now. She stepped to the treeline, sinking into her firing stance. She had fashioned wooden arrows to use for practice and readied one now. It had been over a month since she shot a bow, and her handmade one at home was a far cry from the pulley and tension contraption she wielded now.

She notched an arrow, taking a deep breath to center herself. She sensed several gazes on her, but she did not acknowledge them. On her exhale, she fired, sinking the arrow into the tree before her with a satisfying ‘thunk’. Cheers erupted behind her, and she half turned, watching as Eddie and Dustin hopped around like excited children while Nancy and the others looked on. Lily blushed, turning to fire another arrow, determined to split her first one in two. 

She readied her stance again, closing her eyes a moment and pictured Vecna’s face where her arrow stuck out from the tree. Heat bubbled up in her belly, and the tingling sensation skittered over her nerve endings. It was the same sensation she felt in the War Zone, but this time the tingling in her eyes was stronger. It felt natural to allow this feeling to well up in her chest, her muscles tensing as if coiling to spring. It seemed that the very world around her held its breath as she loosed the arrow. It shot through the air like a star, shattering its predecessor as it slammed into the tree, a sharp splintering sound following it. 

  The silence that followed was deafening. Lily turned back to her friends to find she no longer stood in the lush green of the field, but stood alone in a devastated mirror image, the sky above her dark and forked with crimson lightning. The grass beneath her boots crunched and snapped like blackened, brittle bones as she shifted her weight. 

"Liliana…so you have tasted the power available to you in my realm. It feels good, doesn't it? There is so much more I can give you…" The voice slithered over her skin like slimy tentacles, making her skin crawl. "Vecna…" She hissed. "So you know me…" He continued, a lilt in his voice that suggested Vecna was enjoying her squirming. "I know you are a murderous, disgusting lunatic. And you will not win. We won't let you." Deep laughter echoed through the field. She spun, eyes searching for the source. A man appeared behind her, his stagnant breath on her neck as she turned to face him. He could hardly be called a man, his skin somehow shriveled and damp all at once. His vine-like flesh writhed and squelched as he moved. Revulsion turned her stomach sour and she fought the urge to vomit at his feet. He reached a clawed hand to her, and she shrank away. “Don’t touch me, monster.” He drew back as she spat the last. 

“Monster? It is mankind who are the monsters here. They shun what they don’t understand, climb on one another’s shoulders to keep themselves from drowning, and kill one another to get what they desire.” The jock’s voice flittered past her, swelled with false righteous fury as he riled the town hall meeting into a frenzy. Vecna’s voice was a growl, his eyes startling blue in his decrepit face. Lily felt a twinge of sorrow for the boy Vecna used to be. There was a glimmer of humanity in his eyes for the briefest of moments before his gaze hardened. “You know firsthand how cruel mankind can be.” He added. Her stepfather’s voice boomed through her now, his mottled red and purple face coming into view. She could feel his iron grip on her arms, feel every bruise he ever inflicted on her rise to the surface. Her back spasmed violently, echoes of the blow that had carved it way into her flesh. She shuddered, gasping in pain.

         She shook her head violently, dispelling the images. “It doesn’t matter. There is still good in this world, and as long as that glimmer remains, I will fight for it. I will put an arrow between your eyes, asshole, if it’s the last thing I do.” She vowed. Vecna growled his displeasure, and the image shattered. 

She awoke to frantic shouts of her name, Eddie’s hands on her shoulders, shaking her. “E-Eddie?” She managed, her heart pounding. Eddie pulled her into his arms, cradling her close. “Lily, Christ, don’t scare me like that.” He managed, his voice hoarse, no doubt, from shouting her name. His arms trembled around her, from fear or exertion she didn't know. “I saw him.” Lily breathed. “What?” Came several voices at once. “Vecna…he had me.” She whispered. Eddie growled low in his throat. “He wants you, he’ll have to pry you from my cold, dead fingers.” His eyes glittered dangerously and Lily had to look away.

 “What did he show you?”  Nancy asked, her voice trembling. Lily shook her head. “Nothing I didn’t already know.” She said. She managed a smile, but she knew that the light of it would not reach her eyes. “You had us scared to death.” Dustin said, his voice breathy as if he too, had been frantically screaming for her. Lily ducked her head in blatant apology. “I did learn one thing…” She began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “He won’t stop. No matter what, he will continue to come at us until we either submit, or die. We have to kill him.” 

***

That night was somber, reserved. They had a simple dinner of canned goods and bread, barely speaking as each retreated to their own spot to catch a few Z’s before they went back into the Upside Down. Eddie grabbed a pillow from the couch, fluffing it as best he could before tossing it on the floor. 

"Are you afraid?" Lily's voice was small, breathless. He turned to her, watching as she wove the end of her hair into a single, long braid. She glanced up at him, her hazel eyes swirling with a plethora of emotions. "Terrified." He admitted. She swallowed hard, wrapping the end of her braid in a hair tie. “I have been through the plan a hundred times in my head and no matter how prepared we seem to be…” She broke off, drawing a shuddering breath. He said nothing as he crossed the space between them and wrapped his arms around her, effectively cutting off the rest of her statement. “Don’t talk like that. I already have half a mind to tie you to the chair and keep you out of this. But I know it wouldn't do any good. You would only hate me for it. We will get through this…together.” She pressed her face to his chest, stifling the emotions that welled up in the chasm of her own. His arms tightened around her. “Hey…I’m here. I’m here…” He said quietly as he ran his knuckles up and down her spine. “Shh…shh…” Her shoulders shook, and he held her closer. “I’m right here, you’re in my arms, you’re safe. We will win. We have to.”  He knew he shouldn’t promise this, but for her, he would promise the world if it meant she would smile again. She pulled back from him a little, swiping at her face impatiently.

“What if we don’t? What if Vecna somehow figures out the plan and….” He gripped the rope of her braid, tugging it gently but firmly, forcing her to meet his eyes. They drilled into hers without mercy, and he held her there. Her stomach flip flopped, and it wasn't in fear. “If things go badly tomorrow, at least we will be together, right?” She nodded, closing her eyes, silver tears slipping free. The hand that held her braid released, cupping the back of her head. He kissed her, hard. She relaxed into him, his body solid and warm and vital against her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back, burning the feeling of him into her memory. If they were going to die tomorrow, she didn’t want there to be any doubt in his mind on how she felt about him. After a long moment, she released him. The others slumbered soundly, oblivious to the heat that now scorched through the space between them. The moon was not quite at the midnight point in the sky. 

“Eddie, I…I have something to ask you...” She said quietly as she pulled away, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice soft, breathless with the passion of their kiss. “Nothing. You told me once that my mother was wrong, that you would marry a bull headed, unladylike girl with her head in a fantasy dice game. I…I…” She swallowed, hard. He waited patiently, not rushing her. “Would you…make love to me?” She blurted the words before she could recall them. He froze and his eyes widened. “Lily…I…I can’t…” He replied quietly. Her chest tightened. 

“Why not?” Her voice was sharper than she intended and she fought to keep her composure. “Is it because of Chrissy?” She could not stop the jealousy that rose in her voice. His jaw dropped open. “No, it has nothing to do with Chrissy. Is that what you think?” He asked, his voice harsh. She bit her lip. She hadn’t intended to anger him. “I… I don’t know what to think. What do you expect me to think when you tell me that you would marry me, and then refuse me this. This could be the last night of our lives. I want you to know how I feel.” Eddie sighed. “It isn’t because of Chrissy.” He confirmed. 

“Then, is it because I am underage? I turn eighteen in a few short hours, I don’t think anyone is going to be that technical. Besides, you don’t tell them, I won’t tell them. Who would know but us?” Eddie had begun shaking his head long before she had finished her statement. “I told you I don’t care about that. That isn’t the issue.” He gripped her upper arms abruptly. She drew in a breath, flinching more out of reflex than actual pain. He realized what he had done and released her immediately. “Then tell me.” Her voice had gone dangerously quiet, and she found she couldn't meet his eyes. He sighed again. “It's because you are the one thing I want to get right. I love you Lily, but I cannot take what you are offering.” She drew away from him. 

“So how I feel doesn't count, is that it? Was all that talk in the Upside Down bullshit?” She knew she was being ridiculous, fighting to keep her voice level and losing. Here they were, hours away from the fight of their lives and she was arguing with him over whether or not he wanted to sleep with her. He went to answer her, but she cut him off. “You know what, nevermind. I don't think I want to know.” She brushed past him, out of the RV and into the night. 

Her boots barely touched grass before she was running. Tears turned her vision into a mass of blurry shapes highlighted by the moon. Her heart pounded, blood singing in her ears. Despite his denial, she couldn't help but think it was because she wasn't Chrissy. She really shouldn't have been surprised. She had seen Chrissy’s picture on the sports wall at Hawkins High, and she really couldn’t blame him for his attraction. She was gorgeous, talented, popular, and, if Lily could overlook her intense jealousy, looked like she was a genuinely sweet girl. Eddie had every right to have feelings for her. Lily made it into the treeline, and she could hear the scramble of feet after her, Eddie’s frantic call of her name echoing. She ignored him and pushed faster. She was desperate to put some distance between them. 

A tree root stuck out of the ground too far and she failed to clear it, tripping and sprawling across the forest floor. She lay there a moment, gasping, her heart thundering painfully in her chest. Her tears flowed, and she was unable to continue to hold them at bay. She had been stupid to come here. What had she expected? That he would see the face to the voice he had been hearing for months and instantly forget everyone else? Ridiculous. Ridiculous and incredibly naive. Even more painfully she knew that Eddie had known Chrissy since they were young, and they had history. Lily was just a voice over a walkie talkie. She managed to sit up, Eddie’s too large Metallica shirt askew, her pale legs covered in smears of dirt, her cargo shorts nearly unrecognizable. She curled in on herself a moment, tucking her arm around her face, breathing in the faint scent of Eddie that still clung to the fabric. “LILY!!” She could hear him crash through the brush, clearing the protrusion where she had failed to. “Christ Lily, what the hell?” Eddie asked breathlessly, crouching down beside her. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “Lily, look at me, please…” There was a note of something she couldn’t identify in his voice that made it impossible to refuse him. 

Their eyes locked, his gaze so dark it seemed to swallow up the faint moonlight that managed to make it past the canopy. “Why did you run, Lil? You took off without letting me explain.” Shame burned her skin, but she couldn’t answer him. “What I said when we were trapped down there…it wasn't bullshit. I love you Lily. I have for a long time. Even before I knew what you looked like. And I'm sorry it's taken me this long to admit it.” His words were soft, gentle. Despite his tender words, pain rippled through her chest. “But you don’t want me.” She managed. He shook his head. “I want you more than my next breath. More than I want this nightmare behind us. I need you, Lily. But I want to do things right with you. I’ve never done anything properly in my life, but you, I want to get right. I wasn't lying when I said I would marry you. But I want to take you out on actual dates, save up and buy the perfect ring. I want to propose to you in the most beautiful place that I know.” 

Somewhere during his speech, her tears had escaped her control once more, streaking down her face. His eyes shone with pain as they met hers. "Please sweetheart, don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry." He brushed her tears from her cheeks. He continued quietly, his eyes bearing intensely into hers. “Never doubt my feelings for you. I knew Chrissy. Everyone did. And maybe to some extent, I admired her. But I never had feelings for her. I sensed something was wrong when she came to ME of all people for help. And yes, I was devastated and scared by her death. But she was just someone I knew. Nothing more."

It was several moments before she could speak. "I want to give you everything. All that I am. I want a piece of you buried so deeply inside my heart that no matter what happens tomorrow, you will always be a part of me. And I, a part of you." She swallowed.  It is not just for physical pleasure. I want there to be no barriers left between us." He smiled, brushing his thumb across the ridge of her cheek. She sure made a compelling argument. His resolve had wobbled, cracking and splintering over and over as her tears leaked free. He really couldn't stand to see her cry. "You know, it is almost midnight. You will be eighteen very shortly." His voice had some of its playfulness back, his dark eyes glittering with mischief. He couldn't refuse her. She nodded. "I know." He took her hand, helping her to her feet. 

Once she was standing, he pulled her close as he began to hum. Lily recognized "Faithfully" as he crooned softly, swaying her from side to side in a gentle dance. She lay her head against his chest, matching his rhythm and moving with him. Hearing the familiar notes of the song that once brought her so much pain, it surprised her once again when only warmth welled in her heart. He sighed, kissing her forehead. "I would be a colossal fool not to love you, Liliana Halen. And I am a great many things, but a fool is not one of them. Except for you. You are  the only one I am a fool for." 

He knelt down on one knee. "I know it sounds silly, or cliche, but you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I hope you know that. You are every dream I have ever had, every wish I could make on the stars as they fall. You know I am not one for poetry, but I find myself wanting to give you every flowery word I know to tell you how much you mean to me. Liliana Rose Halen, I’m terrified to say that I love you because I know what loving someone means. And I know how dangerous it can be to fall in love with someone and acknowledge that, in some small way, that that person has the power to destroy you. But I am not afraid to fall in love with you. Because I have. I have fallen in love with you. As deeply as the ocean, and as surely as the sunrise. I love you. And I want to be there for the good days, the bad days, the sick days, and the angry days. I want to be there every single day for the rest of our lives. I want to kiss you every night and wake up with you every morning. Lily, would you make me the world's luckiest man and accept me as I am? I know I’m not perfect. And I won’t ever try to be. But I will always try to be the best version of myself…for you. Will you…marry me?"  

Her tears flowed freely and she nodded, not trusting herself with words. She didn't even need to think about it. He grinned, standing and working off one of his rings. "I know it's a little big, but I promise that after we finish this, I will buy you a proper one." He slipped the ring on her finger. Its single black stone glittered in the pale light and she flung her arms around him, kissing him deeply.

[missmadelina1x1]

amy-the-surfer-tisdale​:

“You are so calm that I can feel it all over your body. And see it too.” Amy rolled her eyes, of course she could tell Maddie was freaking out, even if Maddie was pretending to be calm. She was not. Look at the storm outside, for sure she was not calm. She knew that if Maddie did not calm down, bad things would happen, it wouldn’t be the first time. “Shhh, everything is fine.” Amy said softly as she hugged Maddie gently, and rubbed her back softly, hoping to really calm her down. Normally that would calm each other down. To feel their bodies connected, but she had a feeling today she would not be able to conquer that. “Maddie, I share things with you. Damn, Maddie, you can read my mind if you want. Really. I share every single thing! We even live together! What could be there more to share than a life like that, huh? Look at us. We are basically a married couple!” Amy replied back. She knew she was fucking up. Whenever Maddie was calming down, Amy would just turn things around and make her feel bad… Again. Amy felt terrible. “Maddie, whenever we fight I end up saying things that I don’t mean, and I am sure that happens to you too, no?” Lately, they have been fighting a lot. Well, not a lot, but when they did, it was just bad. It was almost as if they could feel that something bad was coming, and their moods were going crazy. “Oh so now you are throwing at me that I don’t move on?” Amy nodded her head hurt by Maddie’s words.

Amy knew she was only messing up her situation even more, and when she saw how sad Maddie was, she knew she had fucked up, and really bad. “Anymore because Carla and I were really close, don’t overthink.” She sighed sadly as she took a few steps back. But then she ended up laughing sarcastic. “Really? So now my friends’ are planning to separate us? Really? Now they are the bad ones?” Amy shook her head. How could Maddie think that way when she didn’t even know them?

As Maddie started to point out all the mess she had done in the past, Amy just rolled her eyes, “You say you don’t remind me of any of those things, but look at you. What are you doing, Maddie? You are bringing all of it up.” Amy pointed out as she kept rocking Lottie back and fort, hoping to calm her down too. She was so stressed out.

Amy had never seen anything like that. Yes, she had heard about mutants that could control the water, but this was different. Before looking at Lottie, she looked outside through the window, making sure no one was outside. And then, she looked back at Lottie when she made it clear that had been herself doing that, and would do it again if her moms were fighting.

Amy was as confused as Maddie. She looked at the toddler in her arms and gently took hold of her hand, squeezing it gently. “Lottie? How did you do that, love?” She asked confused. She really thought Lottie would not have powers.

Their entire conversation came to a halt as they stood there and stared at each other, looking back and forth between themselves, Lottie and the sink. Maddie blinked rapidly, reaching up to push her soaking wet hair out of her face. She looked down at herself then back up at Lottie. “Oh...my...god. She’s only 2. I wasn’t expecting to see something like this from her so early.” With the change in atmosphere, Lottie stopped moving her hand and used it to play with Amy’s hair. 

“She’s only half mutant...her dad was super ordinary. I...” A smile spread across her features and she ran forward smothering the little girl in kisses. “Did you see what you did, my angel? How did you do that, sweetie?” Her hazel eyes caught Amy’s and she shook her head in disbelief. It was the pallette cleanser that they desperately needed. If Lottie hadn’t acted, the fight would have escalated and one of them would have been sleeping in the spare bedroom or leaving the house altogether. 

“None of that matters. You’re right, Amy. We say things when we get angry that we don’t mean. I guess we just have so much passion that sometimes it bleeds out in other ways. Now...we need to focus on our little munchkin.” She took Lottie from Amy’s arms and took her outside. Their home overlooked the beach, water just outside their patio. “You see the ocean? Mama swims in it every day. Do you feel connected to it?” Lottie considered, then nodded. Without talking, her hand came up back up and a wave shot up above them.

“Oh god,” she said, turning to shield the three of them with her wings from water tumbling down on their heads...but it never came. Somehow Lottie was holding the wave up with her hand. She was laughing wholeheartedly as she did. “You are the most special little girl in the entire world. You know that?” She said kissing the side of her head and turning to Amy. “Who knew she’d be capable of this?!”

[mjolnir-steve]

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair. 

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too. 

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot. 

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you. 

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings. 

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night. 

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work. 

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.” 

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder. 

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d. 

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?” 

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear. 

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides. 

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

[bakuthedeku]

their everyday game

Read on AO3

Words: 3,000

Chapters: 1/1

Summary:

Things Midoriya Izuku is: A student, a sugar baby, a boyfriend, a brat.

Things Midoriya Izuku is not: Patient.

Or: Izuku wants attention from Kacchan and he is going to get it.

A commissioned fic for @insinirate !

Clack clack clack. The room is silent but for the steady breaths of its occupants and the rhythmic beat of fingers on plastic. Clear, wall-to-ceiling windows wash the sun’s gentle light into the room, and reveal a picturesque view of the sparkling city, looking like something straight out of a magazine.

Izuku glares at the extravagant view. He bets Kacchan is writing another one of those stupid reports of his.

Buzz. The clacking halts and Kacchan glances at his work phone for but a moment before the typing resumes.

Izuku takes a deep breath. Holds it. Puffs out his cheeks.

He slumps over in his seat and sighs obnoxiously.

God, he’s so damn bored.

Kacchan said he had to get one more hour of work done, and then he’d take a break. That had been almost three hours ago. ‘One hour’ had turned into two when Izuku left Kacchan to get ready for their lunch date and had foolishly gone straight to the cafe instead of meeting up with Kacchan at the office first. He’d waited all of ten minutes at their usual table before calling a company car and returning to find Kacchan still working in his office.

If not for Kacchan’s genuine surprise at the time and his gruff, yet sweet apologies, he would be a dead man already.

But Izuku still isn’t satisfied. Kacchan needs a break, and Izuku needs attention, stat. There’s only one solution: Izuku’s gonna annoy the shit out of Kacchan. So Izuku sucks in another breath and pouts at the ceiling. “Kacchaaaaan!”

Kacchan sighs, but he doesn’t respond. The silence in the room grows thick with expectation; Izuku’s long-perfect attention-seeking tone signals the start of the game they play every day.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the clack of keys and occasional buzz from Kacchan’s work phone. Izuku wriggles against his plush seat, making the leather squeak obnoxiously, and clears his throat daintily, earning himself a glance. “Kacchan, I’m hungry…” Izuku peaks at Kacchan from beneath fluttering eyelashes.

Kacchan shifts his eyes back to his computer and types another line, pointedly loud against the room’s still silence.

When they play this game, whoever breaks first (or whoever wants whatever they’re after more) will relent and go to the other, so this can go one of two ways; Izuku will pull himself from his lounging position to drape himself over Kacchan, or Kacchan will pull himself from his work and lavish Izuku with the attention he deserves.

Today, Izuku takes it upon himself to move things forward—Kacchan is in one of those moods where it could take hours to break him down, and Izuku needs results now.

So with an impatient, gusty sigh pulled deep from his lungs, Izuku heaves himself up and slinks over to Kacchan’s grand desk, stalking up from behind him. When Kacchan makes the mistake of glancing at Izuku from the corner of his eye, Izuku pounces.

Izuku wrenches Kacchan’s chair around and jumps into his lap, laying himself over Kacchan as well as the plush arms of his chair. Kacchan grunts out a quiet oof at the sudden weight but wraps an arm around his waist nonetheless.

“I’m working, Deku,” Kacchan says dryly.

“Actually, Kacchan, I think you’ll find that you’re cuddling me and giving me attention right now, and I can’t imagine why you’d want to stop.”

Kacchan exhales quietly and wrestles down the corners of his lips—it’s not quite a smile, but it’s a good enough start for Izuku. “I have a lot to do, so as much as I’d love to keep giving you all the attention you desire, I really do have to get back to work.”

Izuku wraps an arm around Kacchan’s neck and pretends to think, then shakes his head solemnly. “Unfortunately, it’s a no from me. I’m hungry and I want lunch.”

“Then go get lunch.”

Izuku gives Kacchan a look for being deliberately obtuse.

“I’ll order in for you, then,” Kacchan offers.

Izuku huffs and pushes himself away from his comfortable spot against Kacchan’s broad chest. “Not good enough, Kacchan! We organised a lunch date, so I am getting a lunch date. Now.” Izuku sticks out his chin and dares Kacchan to say no.

Eyes lock. Izuku stares with determination, burying his will into impenetrable crystal red and steadfastly ignoring their alluring pull. Kacchan makes an aborted noise in the back of his throat, as if he was about to say something stupid but thought better of it, and finally sighs.

“Half an hour.”

Izuku smiles sweetly. “Two. You’re late, so you’ve accrued interest.”

Kacchan decides to focus on their negotiations over Izuku’s mockingly business-like tone: “Forty-five is the best you’re going to get from me.”

“An hour, not including travel time, or I’ll get our contract from your room and tear it up myself.” Izuku juts out a petulant lip. He’d never do it, but it gets his point across—Izuku isn’t budging on this.

Kacchan stares hard for a moment, then sags and rests his head in the crook of Izuku’s neck. “You’re such an annoying little shit,” he murmurs, warm against Izuku’s skin.

Izuku hides his smile in Kacchan’s hair and holds him tight. Another victory secured.

/-/

The cafe is a relaxing, familiar space for Izuku. He’s been a regular since before his arrangement with Kacchan began, and when it breached the confines of Kacchan’s highrise office, it was only natural Izuku would drag Kacchan to his favourite little spot.

After enough of their regular visits, the staff have stopped staring at Kacchan and his crisp suits and shiny Rolex watches, and they interact more or less normally with the pair when they stop by.

They place their orders, as usual, and Kacchan pays, as usual, before they settle in their favourite corner, waiting for drinks and food.

Izuku relaxes into his plush chair. He breathes in happiness, the scent of sugar and coffee and Kacchan’s handsome cologne, and breathes out his worries. He’s already plotting ways to extend the hour he was so graciously granted.

On the table before him is a generous slice of cake, which is ‘not a meal,’ according to Kacchan, but Izuku wanted it and he doesn’t care what Kacchan has to say about it. Kacchan is still waiting on his own food; some kind of salmon dish, which is about the fanciest thing he might be able to get his hands on at a casual place like this.

Before Kacchan can grouse at Izuku further, Izuku digs into his treat with no regard for manners, or as Kacchan calls them, “basic fucking social etiquette.” Whenever Kacchan attempts to spout this particular kind of bullshit, Izuku rather enjoys pointing out the hypocrisy of Kacchan of all people criticising other people’s social graces.

Izuku glances at Kacchan and licks his lips before he fills his mouth with fluffy, sugary goodness, making eye-contact with him as he lets out an exaggerated moan. “So good,” Izuku takes care to lick his lips and smiles, warm and sweet like molten honey.

Kacchan rolls his eyes, but he swallows like his mouth is dry. “You’re a damn menace, you little brat,” he says hoarsely, despite the way his eyes have been stuck on Izuku’s lips since he licked them.

“Hey!” Izuku kicks out with all the gentleness of a fussy toddler, landing a solid kick on Kacchan’s shin. “Don’t be mean. You would’ve missed our lunch date altogether if I hadn’t dragged you here.” Izuku tilts his head and gives an Oscar-worthy kicked-puppy pout.

“Deku…” Kacchan obviously misses the point of his pouting by a mile, because now he just looks sad, and that is not what Izuku was going for! “I’m sorry I forgot, baby. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you, it’s just...”

“You’re busy,” Izuku finishes for him, and leans across the table to (affectionately) swat his dumb boyfriend’s head. “I know. I’m not mad, but I do want your attention right now, so cut out the sadness and shower me with compliments like you’re supposed to.”

This earns a snort of laughter from Kacchan, who finally catches on and plays along with their usual game. His whole face brightens with his smile. “Ah yes, of course, dear. How could I spend even a second not overwhelming you with compliments?”

Izuku nods seriously. “Exactly. I’m just so shocked. You should know better than to neglect me by now,” Izuku winks, “Daddy.”

Kacchan makes a point of rolling his eyes, but he’s smiling broadly now, all teeth and crinkled eyes. “Alright, you’ve made your point, asshole. Eat your stupid cake already.”

/-/

Once they’ve eaten, and the redundant alarm Kacchan had set goes off, they return to the car. It’s time for Izuku to execute his plan.

Before Kacchan can put his belt on like the square he is, Izuku swings a leg over his lap and wraps himself around his boyfriend. Kacchan raises a questioning eyebrow before Izuku makes his demand: “Take me shopping.”

Kacchan smacks his head back against the headrest dramatically. “You have my card. I’ll have the driver drop you off wherever you want to go, okay?”

“I said take me shopping, not send me. You have to be there or there’s no use! Kacchan needs to come with me.”

Kacchan looks sad, then, and the stupid man has apparently learnt a thing or two from Izuku, because he’s got the bestest, heart-wrenchingest puppy-dog eyes without even trying. Resting his forehead against Izuku’s, Kacchan sighs softly against his lips. “You know I spend as much time as I can with you, baby. I can only ignore my work for so long, for you.”

Izuku aches, sudden and raw. “Oh, Kacchan… I know you’re busy, you work so hard! Kacchan really is amazing. But sometimes I want to be selfish and snatch up more of your time. You put too much pressure on yourself at work. You have so many employees so you don’t have to run yourself in the ground.”

“There are things my employees can’t do-”

“Like stopping you from working yourself to death? Right, that’s my job.” Izuku wiggles in Kacchan’s lap and captures his lips in a whisper-soft kiss. “So let me take care of you.” Izuku flutters his eyelashes and pulls his trump card. “Please, Daddy?” he asks, words sugar-sweet on his lips.

Cheeks glowing a suspicious strawberry red, Kacchan huffs and grabs Izuku by the waist, easily picking him up off his lap and depositing him on the seat next to him. He waits patiently for Kacchan to break, all the while butterflies dance in Izuku’s belly at his Daddy’s casual display of strength.

“The hell do you need so badly anyway?”

Truthfully, Izuku has no idea what he would wish to buy. Spoiled as he is, there are few things he’s wanted through life that he doesn’t now own, thanks to Kacchan. “I saw this gorgeous lingerie set and I just have to try it on before I buy it. And I need you there to tell me how good it looks,” Izuku states matter-of-factly.

Kacchan clears his throat and pinches Izuku’s cheek. “Fine. Let’s go look at this lingerie, then, baby.”

/-/

Izuku drags Kacchan out of the car by his hand and refuses to let go even after they’ve made it inside the shopping center.

“Come on, come on, I wanna see what this store has!” With Kacchan in tow, Izuku makes a beeline for his favourite lingerie store.

Izuku chatters away as he makes his way up and down the store, fluttering about pretty displays and shiny, luxurious lingerie sets hung up on the walls. He semi-consciously gives Kacchan a consistent stream of observations, rhetorical questions and mumbled postulations about what Kacchan might like best. He picks out half a dozen sets in just a few minutes, handing each one over to Kacchan for him to judge and/or hold like a handsome sentient display rack.

Soon enough, Kacchan flags down someone from the store to do the grunt work for him as he follows Izuku around the store like a loyal dog, face warring between fondness and annoyance.

Izuku is quite certain that the fondness far outweighs the annoyance, though. Izuku is, after all, impossible to hate.

After completing one circuit of the store, Kacchan interrupts Izuku before he can begin on a second. “What happened to the ‘one’ set you wanted, huh?” The man crosses his arms like a brute, biceps flexing handsomely as he pours disapproval into the question.

Izuku tuts at him. “There’s nothing wrong with browsing. Just look at how pretty this one is!” Izuku pulls out the dainty belt and harness set he was looking at, wiggling it around for Kacchan’s judgment.

“Mm,” Kacchan acknowledges, carefully collected as he judges the set. With his nod of approval, Izuku gleefully adds it to his soon-to-be-towering pile of things to try on, heedless of the fact that Kacchan immediately passes it off to the poor retail worker trailing after them.

Kacchan crosses his arms. “Don’t think I don’t realise what you’re doing, baby boy.”

Izuku ought to feel sheepish at being caught out so easily, but it’s to be expected when he’s trying to con Kacchan. Instead, he tilts his head and bats his big, round eyes, the perfect picture of innocence. “But Daddy, what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Kacchan crosses his arms, but Izuku’s got him there. Kacchan wants to see Izuku in this lingerie just as much as Izuku wants to try them on. And if all of this has the bonus of Izuku keeping Kacchan to himself for a little longer, then they don’t need to talk about that, really.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” Kacchan says, and Izuku giggles, wrapping his arms around his Daddy’s neck.

“I can think of a few reasons,” he laughs. “Now come tell me how pretty I look in these!”

/-/

The driver has to help them get everything into the car. As soon as they’re in, Kacchan orders the driver to start the car and get them back to his work quickly.

It’s cute that Kacchan thinks they’d be going anywhere near his office if not for Izuku allowing it.

“Are you satisfied now, brat?” Kacchan asks, pulling on his seatbelt only after the car has started moving (ooh, rebellious).

Izuku hums. He takes a long few moments to rearrange the copious amount of bags around him, just because he can. He pretends to think very hard about it before nodding exaggeratedly. “Yes, I think I am. For today, at least.”

When Kacchan groans, Izuku shuts him up with a kiss, and they smile like kids in love against each other’s lips.

/-/

Deku seems to have tuckered himself out during their shopping trip, which is understandable considering the sheer amount of clothes he insisted he try on before making Katsuki buy everything for him. He spends the car ride back draped over Katsuki’s side, giving a docile little mumble every now and then when he sees a dog on the sidewalk or a pretty flower that apparently reminds him of Katsuki’s eyes.

(How can the fucker get even cuter than usual just because he tired himself out being a whiny brat all day? How is that fair at all to Katsuki’s heart? Not to mention his wallet...)

(It’s not like Katsuki can’t afford it, but damn, lingerie is surprisingly fucking expensive.)

Katsuki carefully shakes Deku awake when they arrive, because he has learnt the hard way that if he leaves Deku to doze or wakes him too quickly, there will be hell to pay. So he accepts Deku’s blindly groping hand into his own and leads him into the building, where Izuku says something vague about harassing his friend in reception and stumbles off, bleary-eyed.

Katsuki has some interns come down and transfer Deku’s things into his private car so he can attempt to get some work done before Deku makes it upstairs. Deku usually settles down after a few hours of monopolising Katsuki’s time and attention, but with the mood he’s in today, Katsuki doesn’t like his chances of getting anything else done.

He’s gotten as far as opening up an email from a partner company when the door clicks open and Deku sashays in like he owns the place.

And, okay. Katsuki owns the place, and Deku has him wrapped around his pinky finger, so he does own the place in every way but name. But only Katsuki is allowed to know that, god damn it.

“You look like a bumbling fawn like that,” Katsuki informs him, just to see Deku’s sleepy eyes flash with indignation, and watch his cheeks glow a pretty, flustered pink.

Deku’s response doesn’t disappoint, and his nose even scrunches up like a disgruntled bunny, but Katsuki’s gone and shot himself in the foot because now Deku is stomping up to him in a way that says he means business. Deku collapses heavily and claims the space of Katsuki’s lap, steadfast in the fact that it is his and his alone.

Deku slaps him petulantly on the chest. “Meanie,” he mumbles, and curls up on Katsuki’s lap, nestling his head beneath his chin and settling against him, a puzzle piece slotted perfectly in its place. “I’m tired,” Deku says, as if that isn’t obvious already.

Kastuki huffs, presses a feather-soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Just rest, idiot.”

“‘Mkay Daddy…”

Katsuki strokes his fingers through the softness of Izuku’s hair and cradles him as Deku’s body relaxes into Katsuki’s own. “Good boy,” he murmurs.

Pressed tenderly together, Deku continues babbling quietly to fill the peaceful sunset air. Katsuki nods along and holds his baby securely in his arms until he floats off into sleep.

Clack clack clack. With a watchful eye on Deku, lovely and sleep-soft against his chest, Katsuki quietly gets back to work.

[kissbentennyson]

I have no idea if you'd do this but I need a nega ben x reader. He's my favorite out of the alternates. A softer one shot would be nice but whatever you're feeling is good too! I'll take any content I can get!

*Emo Boy by Ayesha Erotica begins to play* Yeah me too.

Nega Ben x Reader | reader uses they/them pronouns, but dresses femininely.

Spill

He’d been waiting all day, and I mean, all day. Classes always seemed to drag on and on longer when he wanted something, and sure, he could have skipped. But that would have taken too much effort not to get caught. He isn’t afraid of the cops or the school administration… But dealing with his parents? Yeah, no. Not worth it. He’d b-lined it across Bellwood, all the way to the “café” he frequented. Truthfully, it wasn't much of a café seeing as how they specialize in more smoothie like drinks, but whatever. It has been rather crowded, too crowded, and everyone just wanted to get in then out.

He should have expected to bump or get bumped into someone, but it didn’t dawn on him until his espresso smoothie was all over your bright pink, fuzzy sweater. Both of you stood there with slack jaws and wide eyes as the brown liquid dripped from your chest and down onto an equally as pink lolita-esque skirt. It looked expensive, not in a daddy's money way, in a “I saved up to buy this” way. And so, he was prepared for hell.

“Oh my god! I am so sorry!”

When it left you, Ben was confused. “Gosh, I should have been looking where I was going… But I was too distracted. Ugh, I-” You were flustered , more than actually, embarrassed is the correct word. “Um… Give me a second and I'll buy you a new one…”

“What?”

Watching as you tried to pat away the coffee with one of the recycled paper napkins the café gives out, a million thoughts passed through him. Of course he took the offer, he wanted that coffee. The line was a lot shorter this time around, and got by a lot quicker too. You ordered for him as he zoned out suddenly looking over your shoulder at him. “What?” He asks, watching you get even more flustered. “I just asked if you wanted anything else. Do you?” “Oh, uh, yeah.” he clears his throat, raising his voice. “The kale chips.”

You both walked out together, your head was down and you watched your shoes as you walked. “Again, I’m really sorry.” He glances at you with a slight side eye as he sips on the coffee, this was the gazillionth time you’ve apologized in just the last few minutes. “It’s… whatever.” He lets out a quick and breathy chuckle. “You apologize to me, but I ruined your sweater.” All of the sudden, your embarrassment seemed non-existent. A light and bubbly laugh leaving you. “Ruined? Oh, trust me, I’ll be just fine. I've dealt with worse.”

“Anyways! I have to get home and change, It was nice meeting you!”

-

The lunch room was beyond packed, packed like the reunion tour of a popular punk band from the 2000's. The doors and tables overflow with hungry and impatient mouths. You had managed to get in before the rush and snag a serving of less than okay school food, but by the time you got out of line, they had all flooded in. People had no concern for others around them, pushing and shoving like toddlers over toys, and you were getting the brunt of it. Not actually, but it sure felt like it.

You were halfway across the room and were looking around the tables for a free space- but it was too late for that already. A body slams into yours hard, you hit the ground as your food falls and splatters all of the chest of the sweater you had just gotten the coffee stain out of. Feet come down around you as you struggle to get up, the other person now looming over you. “Could you have watched where you were going!?” This whole situation was not intentional, but they had no right to get angry at you for that.

You felt the tips of your ears heat, unable to answer. Her eyes bore down on you as she sways with every passing body bumping into her. Suddenly, you feel a hand grab the back of your sweater and pull you from the ground, as if they were scruffing a cat. “Or, maybe you could stop play fighting with your friends in the cafeteria, like a bitch.” Her jaw drops and her freckled face goes red with embarrassment, obviously on the fact that she can't pawn her mistake off on someone else this time. The voice was rather monotone- in a way- compared to the words spoken. And rather familiar.

When you look up it’s the guy from the café, his neutral expression was a thin vale to hide his irritation- at least to you. His hand still had a grip on the back of your shirt, it was a firm hold, and it made you just a tad bit nervous. You swallow as the person swallows her embarrassment, rolling her eyes desperately to try and hide. “Whatever freak, sorry…” she turns and disappears into the crowd. You watch her do so, completely shocked at the situation at hand. Your lips part to say something, but his grip on your sweater releases, being replaced by an arm around your shoulder. Suddenly, you’re being dragged through the crowd and towards the cafeteria door.

He walks you out into the hallway, which is mostly empty at this point. “Thank you.” you choke out through the lump in your throat. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking with you- and you aren’t in any position to object.

Eventually you reach the stairs. Under it is a mostly empty black backpack, and there’s a light reflection of gold from inside. The weight of his arm leaves your shoulders and he walks ahead, sliding under the stairs and sitting with his back to an old AC unit. You hesitate for a moment, you’ve only met this guy one other time… maybe you should just wait…… nah.

Sliding under the stairs right after him, you sit straight across from the guy. He’s already looked away. “I think we have third period together. Your name is Ben, right?” His phone is already out, and he’s scrolling through it. “Well I'm…” you give him your name, and all he does is look up at you with a nod before going back to his phone. The volume is low, but there are noises coming from it, ones you recognize. “Is that the Sumo Slammers mobile game?” There was no judgement in your voice at all, and suddenly the losing end sound plays.

The corners of his mouth twitch. “Yeah?” “My little brother is obsessed with that series. He says that the mobile game isn’t that good, but he still played it to the end.” He let out a little huff like laugh through his nose, pressing the power button and finally giving you his full attention. “Yeah, maybe the old one wasn't that good, but this one is a new release- Doesn’t even have dubbed lines yet.” He clears his throat, slouching a bit as his hands slide into his pockets. “Actually, it’s not fully released in the states yet. I got pre access to the game.” He watches you smile, and suddenly there's a slight tense feeling in his chest.

“That’s really cool, are you a beta tester or something?” He shrugs. “No, and it’s whatever.” He glances away, gaze holding on the wall. “Well I think it’s really cool, especially since it's a series you like.” “How do you know that?” His gaze snaps back to you, suddenly defensive. “Your backpack is open and the sun is reflecting off of the cold backing of the trading cards.” You lazily point to the stairs above you, and there is the reflected image of the symbol on the cards. “Those are the collectors additions, from japan. I know because I’ve been looking for that exact deck for my brother.”

You watch as his cheeks dust a light pink color, lightly nudging his bag so it falls over. He starts avoiding eye contact, leaning back fully against the old AC unit. “Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be cleaning up your sweater?” You lean back against the stairs. “Yeah, maybe. But I think you’re kinda cool, and I’d like to stay.”

It was rather silent the rest of lunch, when you tried to hold a conversation- he would end it with short answers that gave you nothing to build off of. The bell rings above you like the screech of an angered bird. You both get up, him raising from the floor before you. You brush the dirt off of the back of your thighs, the light sound of unzipping catching your attention. You watch as the zipper of his hoodie comes down as he pulls it. Yanking it off of his shoulders, revealing the greenish-grey long sleeve he had under it.

“Here. Even if you get the food off, it’ll still stain.” He hands you the coat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the already open flap lolling open even more. “Oh, thank you, I don’t know what to sa-” “Don’t. Don’t say anything. This never happened.” He walks past you and into the crowd of students, with his head down.

You watch as he does so, eventually looking back down at the hoodie in hand. You feel your face just slightly twinge with heat. “Yeah… Alright.” You say under your breath as you rush off to the nearest bathroom to scrub the food scum from your sweater.

-

It was a game day.

Not that he kept track of that, he had never been into football. Once upon a time he played soccer, but after he got the Negatrix any hopes of that former love returning was gone. Ben knew it was game day because his cousin was in her cheerleading outfit- and it was no were near time for cheer competitions. Her makeup was done and her strawberry blonde hair was pulled up, and she sat in the front seat of her boyfriend's car chatting to said boyfriend about the routines she had to do.

Ben sat in the back, as he always did, waiting for the drive to be over. It came soon enough as the car pulled into the drop off area in front of the school, slowing to a stop. Neither Tennyson waited for it to fully stop before opening their doors. He got out, closing it with a slam and without a thank you. Gwen still leaning in and talking. The chatter of the hoard of tired teenagers flocking into the building almost drowned out the shouting of his name.

Almost.

He groans, looking over his shoulder, spotting the mass of pastels jogging towards him with something in their arms. “I’m so glad I got here on time! They were packed this morning- and I thought I'd be late- but I made it.” In your arms is his hoodie and an espresso smoothie. You hand him your gifts with a large smile. “I um, washed the jacket for you. Thanks again.” The bell rings and you give a quick wave before pushing into the school building yourself.

His jaw hangs slack, looking down at his freshly cleaned jacket- lint free, folded, and still warm- and the smoothie. When he moves there's a light cracking from inside the jacket, like the sound of a chip bag. He pulls back one of the folds and there is a bag of kale chips, stuck to it is a yellow sticky note written on with a pink gel pen. A phone number with “See you at lunch.”

“Who was that?” Ben looks over at his cousin, an impressed smirk on her lips.

“You’re getting mileage out of this, huh?” “Soooo much.”

[forestlingincorporated]

I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People. 

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them. 

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent. 

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.) 

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction. 

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children. 

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically. 

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation. 

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear. 

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect. 

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?) 

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but... 

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7. 

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.) 

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics. 

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two. 

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about. 

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural. 

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries. 

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance. 

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other. 

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent. 

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart. 

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist. 

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well. 

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child. 

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive. 

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you. 

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt. 

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh... 

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating? 

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting. 

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t. 

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so. 

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet. 

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom. 

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought. 

[sortasirius]

“Unity” and the Broken Boys

BOY Y’ALL BETTER SIT DOWN BECAUSE THIS IS AS LONG AS CAN BE AND I TOOK OFF WORK TOMORROW SO I’VE GOT TIME

This is....one of the best episodes in the show.  Yeah, in all 325 of them, this is hands down one of the best.

First of all, stan Amara for clear skin.

That silent treatment babey, right out the gate with the Angst.  Tbh Dean deserves it.

“Like I said, killing Amara, Jack dying...that’s the only way.”

“The only way.  Our one shot.  Our Last chance.  You ever get tired of saying stuff like that?”

“We don’t have to like it, alright?  But you and me, we gotta get it done.”

Amara is such a welcome energy in this whole episode.  She’s warm and understanding, whip-smart and probably more powerful than Chuck.  I love her.

Sam is a wonderful, understanding, loving dad.  I love him eternally.  He loves Jack so much, he’s trying so desperately to do what’s right for Jack but also what’s right for the world.  Jack made this choice, but he can’t live with it.  How do you support your child when their life is at stake?

“Come on man.  Blindly following orders, lying to Amara, sending her to her death. Does any of this feel right to you??”

“It doesn’t matter how we feel!  You know what?  Stay.  Stay.  Someone has to be the grown up here.”

“Yeah well someone has to keep fighting for Jack!”

“He knows what he signed up for!”

“Last I checked, we don’t give up on family.”

“Jack’s not family.”

Y’all should have heard the noise I made.  What a fucking line.

“I know how you feel about the kid, I care for him too, I do, but he’s not like you.  He’s not like Cas.  He’s just not.”

“I’m- I’m ready.”

You can see the regret, the heartbreak in Dean’s eyes.  You can see how he wants to take those words back the moment he said them, and for Jack to hear them?  It’s unthinkable.

Sam and Cas I’m just so fucking emo dude.

“Sam, you stayed behind to find another way huh?  I woulda done the same.”

AMARA

First of all, LOVE this structure.

Amara and Chuck have such a fascinating dynamic.  Rob and Emily do a great job (as they have all along) by clearly being siblings but...heightened.  You can just tell they both exude power, and the other is the only one they consider an equal.

“You and Dean had that whole weird...thing.”

“That wasn’t you writing?”

“Ugh, not that part.  Gross.”

What I took away from this is what I’ve suspected all along.  They HAVE free will, just not total free will.  Dean and Amara’s connection wasn’t Chuck, there are parts of the story he didn’t write.  Obviously, this comes into play later. 

I also have a hunch that Chuck doesn’t write romance.  I also think that in particular will come into play.

“Balance.  Something we’ve never tried before.  Creation and destruction, light and dark, brother and sister united again, but on behalf of one world, this world.  True balance.  The way it was always meant to be.  But you can’t.  You only care about your pleasure, your story.  Well, I guess that makes you the villain.”

“Villains get all the best lines.”

We see again and again this season, Chuck is irredeemable.  He doesn’t care about the angels, he doesn’t care about the world, he doesn’t care about anything.  He is a petulant toddler who has broken his toys. And when he realizes he’s trapped, he gets angry, he shouts and screams, completely at odds with Amara’s peace.

“You can’t hold me here forever.”

“I can hold you long enough.”

DEAN

Pain is the name of the game in this section homies.  Because not only are we dealing with Dean’s pain, we’re also dealing with Jack’s.  Jack says he understands why Cas and Sam mean more to Dean, but Dean clearly doesn’t, he, once again, wants to say more, but is stopped, still stopped by his fear: his fear of not beating Chuck.

Alright guys, gals, and non-binary pals.  Let’s talk about Adam and Seraphina.

Adam.  The first man.  And Seraphina.  The angel.

“My old lady.  She’s the only one who could put up with me all these years.”

Yeah okay.  Volume at 100 I get it lmao.

But also: Adam wants God dead not because he and Eve were kicked out of the Garden, but because he went after their sons.  The theme of protecting the children strikes again.

“Killing God is your plan?”

“Yeah, Billie’s been giving us a hand but Sera and me, this is our baby.”

This juxtaposed directly with Dean’s own pain at what he has to do to kill Chuck, to gain his free will: the cost of his child.

Adam’s rib.

And who else might get his ribs hurt, only to be likely healed by an angel?

It’s fine, that’s fine.  I’m fine with that.

“Jack, I don’t know how to explain it but, when I found out about Chuck, it’s like I wasn’t alive.  Not really.  You know like my whole life I’ve never been free, but like really free.  But now?  Now me and Sam, we got a shot at living a life, without all this crap on our backs.  And that’s, that’s because of you.  So, I want to say, I need to say...thank you, Jack.  Thank you.”

I’m gonna have to do a separate post about just Dean in this episode, because there is so fucking much to talk about, but there are a couple of things that I think are important:  Dean realizes how wrong he was, to say what he said.  He knows that it’s not true, this is the way he’s always coped with loss, by pushing the person to be lost away, but for Jack to hear it?  He can’t stand for that.

And:

Dean has finally pushed through the barrier.  He won’t be quiet in the face of his doubts anymore.  This is a breakthrough for him, and, of course, there are more to come.

SAM

Sam and Cas, my chaos duo.

The box, the inscription, the door.

Death’s library, filled with dead reapers.

And there it is.  The Empty.

It tells Sam the plan, the plan for Billie to take God’s place.  For everything to go back to the way it’s “supposed to be.”

This has always been the game, since season 13.  This is the longest of long games.

Sam fuckin Winchester, lying his way out of a confrontation with the Empty like the legend that he is.

He comes back with a new purpose: to stop Billie’s plan, and here’s where we get to the heart of the episode and maybe the heart of the season.

“You hear that?  Dean, brought to the edge of doubt.  His sense of duty, his rage winning out in the end.  And poor Sam, always gotta know everything.  Can’t leave well enough alone.  This is my ending, my real ending.”

The gun comes out, pointed at Sam.

Hmm...what did I say during 15x05?  Oh yeah, this.

And:

Dean would never survive killing Sam, but he’s willing to do anything, anything to earn his freedom.  His ending, where one brother kills the other and then kill himself.

Why, you might ask, did Sam not mention that the angels would be sent back to Heaven, why does he not mention Cas?  I’ll tell you why, or rather, Becky will.

Plus, Dean looks back at Cas IMMEDIATELY when Sam says that, when he mentions Eileen, and THAT’S the first time he hesitates.  He can’t lose Cas.  But at the same time, he’s willing to do anything to have his freedom.

“Sam we don’t have a choice, Jack’s about to blow!”

“We always have a choice!”

You know me, just sitting here thinking about choice, the ability to choose, and how that translates to their free will.

And Sam...I don’t think there will ever be characters I love as much as these.

“I don’t care if Billie gets what she wants!  I don’t man, I’d trade it all, I’d trade em all for Chuck.  In a heartbeat!”

“What about me?”

“You’d trade me?”

“Chuck has to die.  He has to!  Otherwise he’ll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can’t live like that man, I can’t live like that, I won’t!”

“I know you feel like that right now, okay? I know you do, but you gotta trust me.  My entire life, you’ve protected me.  From Dad, from Lucifer, from everything.  I didn’t always like it, you know?  But it’s the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on.  It’s the only thing I’ve ever known that was true.  So please, put the gun away.  Just put it away.  We’ll figure it out, Dean, we’ll find another way, you and me.  We always do.”

Okay I feel like this is going to be one of those scenes that I cry watching for years to come.  Because fuck.  After fifteen years they finally admit that not only did Dean protect Sam from Lucifer, but he protected him from John.  John.  On a par with Lucifer.

Dean and Sam have, for so many years, sacrificed themselves for the other.  Dean’s demon deal, Sam and the trials, every season they have fought to see who can die the quickest for the other.  But this?  This is them fighting to stop the violence, to stop from killing the big bad.  This is them growing, in our eyes, in real time.  Sam has always been able to get through to Dean when no one else had a prayer, but for Dean to listen, for Dean to take his words to heart, to stop the hunt for Sam, for their family, that’s how you know they do have free will.

(Btw Chuck’s eye effect when he dusted Amara was sick as fuck but I’m emo for my boys so.)

Chuck knows it’s a loss, he knows that his story has, once again, been thwarted by the boys making their own choices.  And he’s pissed, but in his anger, we get a bomb dropped on us.

“Spare me your contempt Castiel, the self-hating angel of Thursday.  You know what every other version of you did after “gripping him tight and raising him from perdition”?  They did what they were told.  But not you.  Not the one off the line with a crack in his chassis.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

Also, just worth bringing up this one as well:

Every Castiel pulled Dean out of Hell.  Every one told him the same thing.  And yet, immediately, with this Cas and this Dean, something was different.  Because what has everyone seen about Cas, from the moment he met Dean?

And there’s our endgame people.  Laid out on the line.

But we ain’t done yet, fam.

We’ve talked about the handprint, but you know:

So there you have it, our prep into the “monumental” 15x18.  I have spec on that, of course, but I think a novel is long enough for this.

What to take away: Dean’s rage was always Chuck’s plan, they do have free will, their love for each other, for their family, is what will stop Chuck’s control, Death is about to come back with a vengeance, Cas’ deal is at play, and, most importantly, Castiel and Dean Winchester are a blind spot for Chuck, something he has never, not once, controlled.

[tommyspeakycap]

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

8

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.