#yeah you can handle swallowing it quick or hiding it in a smoothie... but what comes after?

[naomiknight-17]

That 'would you rather' poll that's going around currently has the option for eating a worm everyday as the leader

Do people not realize how many parasites and bacteria are hitching a ride on the average earthworm

Do you want rat lung worm

Do you want carpet python parasite

Do you want to become paralyzed, suffer neurological effects, and eventually die helpless and in horrible pain?

Oh but what are the chances that this worm has any of those things! I don't know, why don't you eat a different one every darn day and play the 'what parasite will kill me first' roulette. Sounds fun!

[thran-duils]

Doll Me Up (P.11, Final)

Title: Doll Me Up (Part Eleven, Final) Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge. Words: 1,892 Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use

Part Ten ||  Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

~2 weeks later…

“Come now, drink up,” Tony said, gesturing impatiently since he was needing to leave to go to a meeting bright and early, and you picked up the glass warily.

He had made you a smoothie out of hemp, cucumber, avocado, kale, ginger, grapes, and coconut milk. You had watched him adding each ingredient feeling more and more anxious. You just wanted an egg and bacon sandwich.

You grimaced as you swallowed it. You whined, “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah, I don’t either but it’s good for us, kitten,” Tony said, grabbing his own glass and taking a swig. He barely held back a face. “I’ve gotta be tip top shape for you and the baby. And you gotta be tip top shape for baby Stark.”

Scowling, you stared down at your glass, muttering, “I don’t like you calling it that.”

“I don’t like you calling it… it.”

“Well, we don’t know the sex yet, so what do you want me to say?”

“Baby Stark,” Tony quipped, taking another drink. He eyed your glass, nodding, telling you to do the same.

You took another long drink and swallowed it with difficulty. “It sounds too close to that annoying ass song.” Tony cocked his head in confusion, and you said, “I won’t subject you to it. Or myself to it. Again. Once was enough. I’m glad we are past the age – hopefully – that abomination is in vogue.”

“Well, now you’ve got me curious,” Tony said, pulling out his phone.

“Please, don’t,” you begged and then thought quick to threaten, “I won’t finish this if you do.”

Tony pointed at you and said, “That’s not fair. That’s for baby… the baby. This is for me and you can handle it.” Your jaw set and put the glass down, staring defiantly back at him. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, not breaking eye contact. “You hate it that much?”

“Yes.”

Rolling his eyes, he placed his phone back down and picked his glass back up, taking another drink. At his relent, you did the same. Tony finished his and sucked his teeth before rinsing his glass in the sink. You forced yourself to finish as well and placed the glass back down on the counter. Tony grabbed it from you and rinsed yours as well.

He leaned in and gave you a quick kiss, “I’ll listen to it at work.”

“I am telling you, you shouldn’t subject yourself to it,” you replied.

“Digging my own grave then,” Tony joked before giving you another kiss, longer this time. He tapped your nose and said, “Do your laps in the pool, princess. Don’t forget. Doctor said that would help aches and loosening your muscles.” You nodded in response and he smiled, his hand coming to rest on your abdomen for a second before he moved past you to go to the garage and leave.

<><><>

~2.5 months later… (5.5 months along)

Tony had you on your knees on the bed, your fingers spread, digging into the bed, bracing yourself. He ran his hands up your sides as he kept a steady pace. He was being gentler than usual, and you were thankful, loving the intimate contact. His touch was sensual and loving. The further you got along, the more he was relaxing on the rough sex.

The two of you ended up on your sides, Tony holding you close this chest as you came down.

He laid a kiss on your cheek, still panting softly from the exertion considering he had done most of the work.

His hand slid down to your abdomen, caressing your ever growing bump gently.

“Look at how perfect and strong you are, kitten,” he murmured. He turned your head towards him and kissed you slow and deep. “A superhero in your own right, growing life.” You smiled gently at that.

<><><>

~1.5 months later… (7 months)

“She’s been good,” Happy commented, watching Y/N inside from the back patio. She was showing now completely, round, and no hiding her pregnancy. “I can admit, I am surprised.” He looked at Mikhail and said, “Looks like you aren’t a complete idiot.”

“Took you long enough to figure out,” Mikhail responded, taking a long drink, looking at the women gathered inside the room. He smacked his lips and said under his breath to Happy, “Not stoked about being at a baby shower but at least there’s a lot of nice ass to look at.”

Inside the mansion, you took the salad from your friend, who commented, “You should eat something else.”

“We are going to have cake later,” you said waving her off.

“I meant something more nutritious than a green salad, Y/N.”

“Spinach is very healthy,” you retorted.

“There are a lot of finger foods. Tea sandwiches. Meatballs on sticks with veggies. Deviled eggs. Pinwheels?”

You sighed, chewing the bite of salad you had just taken. “A couple deviled eggs wouldn’t be bad. And some veggie sticks with ranch.”

She walked off and you scowled to yourself. Everyone was trying to constantly get you to eat ‘healthy’ for the baby and it was getting worse, the hounding about everything you needed to do. You were tired of it. The constant asking about what you had eaten and when, the reminders to drink water as if you had not been drinking water your entire life, did you exercise…

Cassandra waltzed over, sitting down next to you. You were very thankful she had decided to come and had forgiven you for the scene at her house less than a year ago. She picked a crouton off your salad, drawing a smirk out of you as she winked, before she said, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Where did you get this dress? It is gorgeous.”

“Tiffany Rose.”

“The blush color looks beautiful on you. And I love you went dramatic with the floor length.”

“Thanks. Would you expect anything less from me?” you asked, jokingly. She shook her head, smiling. You took another bite and swallowed. “Are you looking for a dress for your shower?”

She nodded in return. She was taking a break from porn – hinting she might not go back at all – having gotten pregnant herself. And then asked, her eyebrows wiggling, “Is the blush supposed to be an indicator about the sex?”

“No. I just liked the color.”

“You really don’t know the sex yet? It’s a surprise for everyone?”

“Well, for us. I’m sure Happy and Mikhail know. God knows Tony couldn’t have kept it all to himself. Good luck breaking them though. I’ve been trying to get Happy to slip up about it for a couple weeks.”

Cassandra leaned back and said, “So, he set it all up and then the cake cutting reveal is his secret?” You nodded. “Hmm, he put a lot of work into this.”

“He did,” you confirmed, taking another bite as your other friend returned with a plate of deviled eggs and the vegetables you had agreed to. You held out the half-finished salad bowl and they took it, albeit reluctantly seeing you had not finished. You took the plate and obliged them by eating one of the eggs. “He’s excited.”

You paused and then added, “Excited but he’s ready for rough sex again.”

“I’m sure you are too,” Cassandra joked, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah. I’m tired of just… growing.” You took a bite off one of the carrot sticks. “It’s never ending. And I know I’ve got probably another month and a half of it at least.”

“It’ll all be worth it,” Cassandra reassured you, stealing a celery stick off your plate now and biting into it.

You finished off your carrot, swallowed, and muttered, “I fucking hope so.”

Your hand came to your stomach, rubbing. You were anxious to know what the sex was. When the sex had been able to be detected, Tony insisted you should stay in the dark so he could make it an actual reveal at the baby shower for you. You hated not knowing when he did, but he had been persistent about the idea of it and you had gone with it because he seemed thrilled with the idea. You just wanted to know. You were hoping the party would progress faster so you could end that anxiousness.

When it finally happened, the blue inside the cake settled something in you. At least you knew what that part of your future was going to look like.

<><><>

~2.5 months later…

“What’s this?” Tony asked, seeing another travel bag next to yours.

“It’s for Miles,” you said as if that was obvious. You went back into your closet, grabbing another scarf from your collection. It was going to be cold at Lake Tahoe for the trip.

Tony took the scarf from you and put it in your travel bag. “He doesn’t need a bag. He’s staying here.”

“Wait, what?” you asked, stricken. He was only a month old. Barely.

“Doctors said one month is enough, but a lot recommend three months for trips. So, we are going to play it safe. He’ll stay here and we will go.”

“Tony, I—we can’t leave him!” you tried to argue, your hand falling protectively on his travel bag.

Tony’s eyes flicked to your hands and he gripped them, prying them away to grasp them in his. He stared into your eyes and said, “Sure we can. It’s only three days, Y/N. We will be back before you know it. He is an infant; he’s not going to notice.”

You were going to notice leaving your infant behind.

“I have to breastfeed him,” you tried another argument.

“Pump before we leave. You have back up in the fridge, no? And it keeps for up to four days. And then he can have formula otherwise.”

“I didn’t want to give him formula,” you protested.

“Don’t listen to that shit that says it’s not good. I had formula and I’m a genius by earthly standards,” Tony said, trying to make a joke. “I already got the formula, Wendy knows how to whip it up.”

“But—” you started to protest but Tony interjected.

“Just us, princess. Just us,” Tony said, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he cradled your face.  “He’ll be fine. He’s in very capable hands with Wendy. You trust her right?” He waited for you to respond and you nodded; you did trust her, wholeheartedly. But that did not mean you did not want to bring your infant on a trip with the two of you. Before you could actually say anything, Tony’s hands fell from your face and gripped at your hips, sliding back to your ass to hold you close. “Let’s enjoy ourselves.” He leaned in, nipping at your ear, “Let me enjoy you. He’s been stealing all your attention as of late.”

You hated that last comment. Throughout your pregnancy and even from the beginning, you had had a nagging feeling Tony was going to get jealous about sharing your affection and attention. And that was just proving it.

“I deserve some attention, don’t I, baby?”

Shoving down argument, you forced a quick smile. “Of course, daddy. All of my attention.”

He smiled sensually, his hands kneading at your ass as he pulled you closer. His eyes were alight with adoration for you. “That’s my perfect princess.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21, @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @kvzctam @farihafangirls, @teenageregression @mrsnegan25 @lilacs-lavender @agustdowney @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx

[camillemontespan]

a week at aunt olivia and uncle leo’s [part two]

Part One here!

This will be more than a one shot or two shot. I’m loving writing this. Expect more!

@jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @moonlightgem7 @emceesynonymroll @pug-bitch @burnsoslow @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @pedudley @notoriouscs @dcbbw @emichelle @star-spangled-eyes @drakesensworld  @katedrakeohd @be-still-my-aching-heart @carabeth

Day 4

Lily devoured her bowl of Unicorn Wishes cereal. She had gotten up early specially so she could see Olivia before her kickboxing class and to ask her something important. Leo was sat beside her, also eating Unicorn Wishes. He was obsessed since being introduced to it when Lily arrived.

'Aunt Olivia...' she began in a hesitant voice.

Olivia looked up from cutting a banana to go in her smoothie. 'Yeah babe?'

Lily turned red. 'Can I have a play date after school?'

'Sure. Who?'

Lily looked down at her cereal and replied very, very quietly. Leo leaned close to her and said with humour, 'Lily? We're really old, we can't hear very well.'

Lily swallowed. 'Milo.'

Olivia's mouth dropped open. 'You mean the boy we spoke about at bath time?!'

Lily sank down in her chair. 'Yes..'

'Is Milo a boyfriend?' Leo asked, nudging her. 'Does he treat you right? Does he give you presents?'

Lily turned to him, her face lighting up. 'He gave me a LEAF!'

                      *************************************************

Olivia didn't know the rules for playdates so she decided to ring Drake and Camille.

The phone picked up but it took a while for one of them to answer. Instead, Olivia was subjected to what could only be a lovers quarrel.

'I can't get out of the clingfilm!' Camille hissed. 'Help me!'

The phone jostled. 'This fucking Vaseline..' Drake growled. Olivia heard clingfilm tearing and Drake groaning, 'Fucks sake, it's all over my hands!'

Eventually.. 'Olivia, hi!'

Camille was bright and cheery. Olivia snorted. 'Having fun?'

'What kind of sex hell did you get this move from?' Camille hissed. 'I swear I don't do nearly enough yoga to help!'

'That's what the vaseline is for, it helps.. movement,' Olivia explained. Leo chuckled, listening.

'Okay, what's up?' Camille asked.

'Lily has asked if she can have a play date.'

'Aww! Who with?'

Olivia sighed. 'Milo.'

'Milo? Milo... Oh the cute little guy with the long hair?! She wants to play with Milo? Adorable -'

The phone jostled again and Olivia was greeted by a pissed off Drake.

'Who the fuck is Milo?'

Olivia sniggered. 'Your daughters boyfriend.' She knew how protective Drake was of Lily and wished she could see his face right now.

There was a silence from Drake. Camille, on the other hand, was telling him to breathe.

Finally, he spoke.

'Nope. No boys until she's 21.'

Olivia rolled her eyes. 'He's four.'

'He's a boy.'

'He's four.'

'Still a boy, still a dick.'

Olivia laughed. 'Drake come on. He's a friend. Isn't it nice she has friends?'

'Sure, but not if they're boys!'

'Drake you're being ridiculous,' Olivia said. 'They're just going to play in the garden, watch TV and scream like banshees.'

Drake sighed. 'I just didn't expect this to happen so soon..'

'He gave her a leaf,' Olivia said, smirking.

'He gave her a fucking what now?'

                        ***************************************************

Camille managed to convince Drake that a playdate would be fine. He had just managed to calm down when Olivia realised that she had made plans for that evening. Book Club. Fucking Book Club.

'Okay no way, playdate is not happening!' Drake protested.

'Leo will be here, he can look after them!' Olivia said.

'Oh sure, Leo. The former manwhore looking after a four year old manwhore in training, great situation-'

'Is he bitching about me?' Leo asked his mouth full of Unicorn Wishes. 'Heh. Love you Drake!' he called.

Olivia held back laughter. 'Drake, Leo is so good with Lily. He can handle one other child.'

Leo fist bumped the air. 'Damn straight I can!'

Drake sighed. 'Fine. But any issues, call us. Anything at all, call us-’

'Bye, love ya!' Olivia said loudly, hanging up. She looked at Lily who was watching, her breath held.

'Milo can come over!' Olivia told her. 'Better get all dressed up!'

'I need to find him a leaf!' Lily shrieked, jumping down. 'Uncle Leo, help me find a leaf!'

                              *************************************************

Leo helped Lily pick a leaf that was a burnt orange colour and bigger than her hand. As he drove her to playgroup, she held the leaf in her hand like it was precious cargo.

She was wearing a yellow dress embroidered with daisies over a stripy red and white jumper and sparkly pink wellington boots. It wasn’t even raining; she just decided she really wanted to wear her sparkly wellington boots. Leo had let her pick her outfit herself and has taken a photo to send to Drake captioned, ‘Ya girl’s all dressed up for her boyfriendddd.’

Drake texted back saying ‘fuck you.’

Leo dropped her off at playgroup and smiled at all the moms who were checking him out. He was so different to their husbands; for one thing, he was a prince. 

Stacey ran over to him, grinning. ‘Leo!’ She then curtsied then thought maybe that was too much so held out her hand to shake his. Leo chuckled. ‘Hi, Stacey, right?’

‘Yes! Is Olivia still coming to Book Club tonight?’

‘I believe she is,’ Leo drawled, his mouth quirking up in the corner as he imagined Olivia at a book club with these mothers. 

‘Fantastic. Rachel’s bringing her famous lemon squares!’

Leo nodded, holding back laughter. Lemon squares. Olivia and lemon squares.

        **************************************************************************

Stacey dropped off Milo after playgroup.  Apparently, Milo had loved the leaf that Lily had given him and was now holding her hand as she dragged him over to where Leo was sat watching TV.

‘Uncle Leo, this is Milo! Milo, this is my uncle Leo. He’s the best.’

Leo raised a hand. ‘Hey kiddo. How ya doin?’

Milo blushed and looked down at the floor. He was shy. 

Olivia was finished getting ready for book club. She was wearing black leather trousers, a lace red top and thigh high black boots. ‘Wish me luck,’ she groaned, giving Leo a kiss. She chucked Milo under the chin and brought Lily in for a hug. 

‘There’s pizza in the freezer,’ she told Leo, ‘give them that. Maybe add some spinach on top so Camille won’t freak about the lack of greens.’

‘Love you Aunt Olivia!’ Lily cried. Olivia smirked. ‘Love ya too, babe.’

      ******************************************************************************

Olivia had only read four pages of the assigned book. She didn’t know what it was about so she had done a quick Wikipedia browse to get up to speed. It sounded awful but hey, she wasn’t much of a reader or a student really.  When she attended tutoring in the palace with Liam and Drake as a teenager, she was the one who sat in the back making spitballs and aiming them at Drake’s head. 

She arrived at Stacey’s house with a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. Olivia was not a cosy, cute, ‘bake a cake for fun’ kind of woman. She was never going to be that kind of person. She was daggers, murder documentaries and red wine. 

Stacey greeted her with enthusiasm and led her into the house. ‘So amazing you could come!’ she cried. ‘Ladies, Olivia’s here!’

Olivia was taken into the living room where four other women sat around the coffee table. On the table were baked goods and tea. Easy listening music was playing softly in the background. They were all wearing sweater vests, like fucking Bertrand Beaumont. 

Fuck. 

‘Hi everyone,’ she said awkwardly. Stacey grinned. ‘Sit down beside me!’

Olivia sat down and crossed her legs; one of the women looked at her boots in surprise. 

‘So, this is Rachel, Jemma, Katherine and Mandy.’

‘Hi Olivia!’ they all said in unison with fixed smiles. Olivia wondered if they were robots. Robots would be better. 

One of them poured her a cup of tea. ‘I’m Rachel,’ she said, giving Olivia a warm smile. ‘It’s so nice you’re here.’

‘It’s certainly different,’ Olivia said. She took a sip of tea and wished it was something stronger. 

‘I thought you were going to serve wine?’ she said. 

Stacey blinked. ‘Oh yes.. I have wine in the fridge if you prefer that?’

Great, now Olivia felt like a floozy. 

‘Um, it’s okay-’

‘I’ll have wine,’ Rachel said, jumping in. ‘Ladies? Wine?’

She was clearly trying to make Olivia feel more comfortable. Olivia could handle anything if she had a dagger on her person but when faced with social situations like this... she wanted to hide. She was grateful when she saw the bottle of wine being brought through. 

They began to discuss the book. Olivia sat in silence, murmuring the occasional ‘mmm’ in agreement. God, she was bored. This book sounded shit. The wine was going down quite nicely because all she did was drink instead of talking. 

‘What did you think Olivia?’

They all turned to her. She sighed. ‘Look, I’ll be honest. I haven’t read it. I went on Wikipedia earlier but that’s all. Sorry. Do I get an F?’

They all stared in silence until they let out peals of laughter. ‘Oh thank god!’ Rachel cried. ‘I only read one chapter, I’ve been bullshitting the rest!’

‘I asked my oldest son to tell me what it was about since he read it in school last year,’ Katherine admitted. 

‘I listened to the audio book..’ Mandy said, ‘but that was on the train to work so I’ve only gotten to chapter three..’

Stacey blinked in shock. ‘So none of you have read it?’

They all shook their head. ‘So why bother having a book club?!’ Stacey asked, her voice rising. ‘Why even meet? What can we talk about that’s not our kids?’

‘Dick.’

They all turned to Olivia who was reclining on the sofa with a smirk on her face. 

‘Dick?’ Stacey whispered. 

‘If you want, I can tell you about Leo’s dick but only if you talk about your partners,’ Olivia said casually. 

Rachel jumped up and down on her seat. ‘I want to hear about the prince’s dick!’

    **********************************************************************************

Lily and Milo demolished the pizza, slyly picking off the spinach. They were sat on the floor watching Peppa Pig and Leo was lying on the sofa with his laptop. This was easy. Taking care of kids was a walk in the park. Just let them eat junk, watch what they want and they’re happy. And he was looking after two of them! That was one more than Drake and Camille. 

Leo, Lily and Milo had danced around to 90s trance music in the kitchen. ‘No no, no no no no, no no no, THERE’S NO LIMIT!’ they had screamed as they danced, jumped and spun around.  Lily had never heard trance in her life but her eyes bulged as she shrieked, ‘this is the best music everrrrrr!’ 

The kids finished their pizza and then ran off to play. Leo changed the channel to put on something more grown up, say Deadpool for example, and settled down to watch. 

His peace was destroyed when he heard a piercing scream. 

Leo bolted up from the sofa and rushed into the hall where the screaming had come from. ‘Oh fuck!’ he cursed, running to where Lily was crumpled on the floor at the foot of the stairs. Milo was standing with his hands to his mouth, whimpering. 

‘What happened?’ Leo asked. 

‘She fell,’ Milo said quietly. ‘Tripped on the stairs..’

Lily was crying and Leo scooped her up, sitting down on the step with her on his lap. ‘Honey, where are you hurt?’

She pointed to her head where a small bump was beginning to form. Leo swallowed, trying not to freak. Okay, what helped bumps? A wet cloth? A bag of frozen peas?

A BAG OF FROZEN PEAS.

He hastily carried her to the kitchen, followed by a still whimpering Milo, and set her down on the kitchen counter. He rifled through the freezer until he found a bag of peas and he gently pressed them to her head. ‘There you go, this will help,’ he told her softly. Gently, he wiped her tears away with his finger.

Leo looked down at Milo. ‘Hey kiddo,’ he whispered. ‘Want some ice cream?’ 

Milo smiled wobbily and Leo grinned, taking out a tub of Ben & Jerry’s and two spoons. He set Milo on the counter too and the two kids started to spoon up ice cream for themselves. Leo watched them and sank down at the table, relieved that disaster was averted.

        ****************************************************************************

Disaster was not averted.

Drake had phoned to check up on them and asked to speak to his ‘favourite girl.’ Leo hoped Lily wouldn’t blow it and reveal Leo’s uselessness with children. She chatted away to him as she sat on the sofa with the bag of peas fixed to her head and Milo sat beside her, refusing to leave her side. 

He was a protective boyfriend. Much like her protective dad, who blew up when she happily said, ‘I fell down the stairs and now I’ve got peas and ice cream.’ 

Leo heard Drake bellow his name even when the phone was still pressed to Lily’s ear. Lily handed him the phone and whispered, ‘oops’ before helping herself to more ice cream. 

‘Lover boy!’ Leo greeted him, trying to mask his nerves.  He left the living room to stand in the hallway. ‘How’s the sexcation?’

‘She fell down the fucking stairs?’ Drake hissed. ‘What the hell happened?’

Leo winced. ‘She fell down the stairs yes, but it’s fine! I put a frozen bag of peas on her head and ice cream.’

‘I gathered that,’ Drake replied dryly. ‘How did it happen?’ 

‘Um... I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘I was watching Deadpool.’

‘You were watching Deadpool when my daughter fell down the stairs?! What the fuck, Leo?!’

Leo was about to respond when the front door burst open to reveal a laughing Olivia and a hiccuping Stacey. Olivia threw her hands up. ‘There’s my man!’ she shouted, banging into the wall. Stacey pointed at him and hollered, ‘Mr Big Dick Energy!’ 

They were hammered. 

Book Club had clearly escalated. 

There was a silence on the phone until Drake growled, ‘Is Olivia drunk?’

[maxwellshippo]

Raleigh x MC, Halloween

(Male) Raleigh x MC (Beck James) / Platinum

Description: Raleigh tags along with Beck for a Halloween party on the outskirts to the city. Party games ensue and Beck finds herself tipsy with no way to get home. Raleigh graciously offers her a ride back to her apartment. Slightly NSFW

Word Count: 3676

A/N: This is my first attempt at PB Fanfiction. Let me know how it is. I’ve been obsessed with Raleigh x MC and had to write something. I’m very nervous, I hope I did MC and Raleigh justice.

Life had been moving fast for Beck. Like, crazy fast. She won the competition, began a new life in New York City, started working on her album and even filmed her first music video. After a long day in the studio, she found Shane waiting for her outside with two cups in hand. Beck grimaced at the sight of the plastic cup he handed to her.

“A peanut-butter smoothie?” She deadpanned.

“A peanut-butter protein shake.” Shane grinned proudly, sipping on a strawberry-banana.“I thought it’d be funny to remind you of your roots.”

She sipped her drink. “Can’t deny it’s delicious...but now I’ll have to hide the cup from Hank. It’s his favorite.”

“Are you still up for tonight?” Shane leaned against the wall as they waited for Hank to pick her up.  Truthfully, Beck couldn’t remember what he was talking about. Shane stared daggers into her until Beck’s jaw fell with realization, mouthing a ‘oh’ as she nodded. “Yes, the Halloween party. I don’t know, Shane. I had a long day and I don’t have a costume.”

“Beck, it’s Halloween! It’s your favorite holiday.” Shane opened his arms to display New York City, doing a 360 spin to emphasize his point. Beck looked around, noticing the orange-rusted leaves that fell from the trees and children that ran by, giggling in their witch and ghost costumes. “There’s gotta be something open.”

“What’s gotta be open?” A deep, husky voice asked over her shoulder. Beck jumped, startled at the voice. She pulled the smoothie out of her mouth, trying not to wince at the aching pain of the straw hitting the roof of her mouth. She turned, seeing Raleigh exiting the studio, guitar slung over his shoulder. “A costume shop.”   

Raleigh raised a brow. Her nerves caused her to keep talking. “For me. So I can wear...a costume.”

Raleigh smirked, crossing his arms as he waited to see how long she would go on. “Because it’s Halloween...and people usually wear costumes...on Halloween.”

“Nice work, detective. I would have never put that together.” Raleigh applauded. “Why don’t you put on a pair of cat ears and call it a night?”

“Because I’m more creative than that!” Beck groaned, crossing her arms to her chest. “You can wear the banana suit you used to wear to work.” Shane suggested, purposely trying to embarrass Beck in front of Raleigh. 

Raleigh chuckled. “Tell me there’s pictures.”

“Oh you bet.” Shane nodded.

“You two are the worst.” Beck stepped away when Hank pulled up. “I’ll meet you at the party tonight, Shane. Text me the details.”

Shane nodded and waved goodbye, heading off to his next destination. Beck grabbed the handle of the limo’s door until Raleigh stopped her, leaning on the window and shutting the door back closed. “What kind of girlfriend doesn’t invite their boyfriend to a party?”

There it was again. His annoyingly smooth voice that was always dripping with sarcasm. Beck turned to Raleigh, surprised. “I’d think you had cooler things to do on Halloween than go to some frat party.”

“I do. My publicist sent me the details and everything. I’d rather go to the one you’re going to.” He smirked.

“Really?” Beck tried to hide her surprise, if not her nerves. “Then come. I’ll text you the details when I get them.”

“Sounds great. Are you gonna go as a sexy nurse, or what?” He teased. Beck rolled her eyes, hitting him playfully in the chest. “You wish.”

“Do I?” His eyes lingered on her. “Or, oh, you can go as a sexy cop and arrest me.”

Beck rolled her eyes. “Maybe you should go as a mime so you can stop talking.”

“Ha-ha.” Raleigh leaned off. “See you tonight, Princess.”

“See you.” Beck swallowed the lump that had been in her throat as she watched Raleigh walk off. That man made her heart do jumping jacks. She was determined to play it cool and not let Raleigh know about her real feelings for him. As far as she knew, he was happy to play the game of pretending it was a fake relationship. She didn’t want to let herself get hurt...no matter how gorgeous his eyes were, or how good of a kisser he was, or how damn funny he was.

Beck fought through the masses at a costume shop was open and managed to get her hands on one of the few items left. A pair of angel wings, a halo and a skimpy white dress. When she got home and tried it on, she did a few takes in the mirror. “Raleigh will love this.” She thought with an eye-roll, thinking about how he wanted to see her in something sexy earlier. Then, Beck realized, maybe she wanted Raleigh to find her irresistibly sexy tonight. Let him pick his jaw up off the floor from drooling for a change. She was sick of being the one always caught staring.

Beck pulled the dress down and tighter in all the right places, gave her hair a last tousle and snapped a pic, sending it to Fiona. 

Beck sighed at the thought and shoved her phone in her bag. It was time to go. An hour later, Hank took her to the party. She arrived at a grand mansion, just outside the city. There were limos and cars lined up. “Beck!” Shane jogged over, wearing a cape and a set of fake vampire teeth. “This party is insane!”

Beck’s eyes widened. “Shane, you told me this would be small!”

Shane shrugged. “Somehow it got out that you and Raleigh were going to be here tonight. The venue got changed to this address.”

“Fiona.” She grumbled as her phone buzzed. She received a text from the devil herself that read: ‘Make sure U and Raleigh are seen on Pictagram tonight.’

Raleigh arrived a few moments later, wearing a pair of devil horns and a black suit. He looked Beck up and down and smiled. “I didn’t know we were at the couples costume stage so soon.”

“How did you know?” Beck’s jaw fell, staring at Raleigh in shock. Damn he looked good...and damn was his costume fitting. He was always the devil on her shoulder, whispering ‘look at me, don’t you want to kiss me?’

“Fiona.” Raleigh and Beck said in unison. Shane laughed. “Hey, let’s get inside, yeah? I heard it’s crazy in there.”

Beck and Raleigh agreed and the three of them headed in. At the entrance, a line of paparazzi was posted, snapping Beck and Raleigh’s photo. In their presence, he slipped an arm dangerously low around her waist. He leaned in close to her ear to whisper, his breath hot on her neck. “You do clean up nice, Princess.”

Beck snorted at him, knowing she looked better than nice. She slipped his arm off her waist, strutting ahead of him to show off the view of her dangerously short dress in the back. She posed for the cameras, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she gave a flirty look to Raleigh. “Are you gonna buy me a drink, or what?”

Raleigh smirked and followed her inside and to the bar. “One whiskey and...something fruity for the lady.” He said over the loud music. Beck leaned on the counter, patiently waiting for her drink. “You’re something else, you know that?” He told her. Beck raised a brow with a smirk. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The bartender slid their drinks over. Beck got to sipping hers and Raleigh held his glass, stirring the whiskey around as he pondered. “You’re just different from most people in this industry, I guess.”

“Is that a good thing?” She asked, noticing a crack in Raleigh’s wall as he began to show emotion other than his sarcastic defense mechanism. Raleigh shook his head, his walls coming back up. “You’re just new...that’s all.”

“Hey, just because I’m new to this doesn’t mean I’m going to become some kind of fake person.” Beck glared. “I’ve been staying true to myself...I’m not Jaylen.”

“This industry will demand you to be something you’re not, no matter how hard you fight against it.” Raleigh frowned. “And you’re wrong...our whole ‘fake’ relationship is to boost your career.”

Beck’s heart fell, nerves washing over her. This was a test, wasn’t it? This was the moment to declare that she had feelings for Raleigh before the fake relationship. But what if he didn’t feel that way? He never brought up their flirting before, or how they kissed backstage. “It’s not fake.” The words came out like vomit. Beck’s eyes widened when she realized what she had said. Even Raleigh looked surprised. “Oh?” He asked.

“I mean...our friendship is real. I do consider you a friend, Raleigh, but I don’t feel like you look at me as anything other than work.” Beck frowned. “A contestant on your show, a newbie star who’s career you need to boost up, a charity case who needs a new guitar…”

“Beck,” Raleigh began, torn between comforting her and letting his guard down. Shane popped in over Beck’s shoulder. “THEY’REABOUTTOPLAYTHEMONSTERMASH!”

“OHMYGOD!” Beck joined in his excitement, placing her drink down on the bar as they ran over to the dance floor. Raleigh leaned on the counter, drinking his whiskey as he watched Beck and Shane perform the dance routine from Pulp Fiction to the Monster Mash. He couldn’t help but crack a quick smile as he watched her run around the dance floor like an absolute dork.

The next song, Shane and Beck pulled Raleigh onto the dance floor. He downed his drink before following them, immediately getting into the beat. Shane danced with the two of them in a circle for a few beats until he slowly excused himself, leaving Raleigh and Beck to it. “I see you remember our dance lessons.” He watched as she swayed her hips to the beat, sexily throwing her hair over her shoulders and doing a body roll. He grabbed her hand, his fingertips interlaced with hers and they danced in perfect unison to the song. Beck moved moved her hips with his until moving in front of him, grinding against him as she slid up and down. When the song ended, Raleigh was breathless with a cheesy grin stuck on his face. Beck pushed hair out of her eyes and couldn’t help but to laugh.

The night continued on and the drinks continued to pour. Beck found herself graciously tipsy at a game of two truths and a lie.

“Okay, here I go:” Shane burped drunkenly before going on. “One...I actually wanted to be an astronaut when I grew up. Two...I owned a pet lion. Three...There was a year when I only ate macaroni and cheese.”

“YOU NEVER OWNED A LION!” Beck declared loudly. “Yes!” Shane cheered.

“You have an unfair advantage there, Becks.” Raleigh pointed out, leaning on his arm as they were all sitting in a circle on the floor. He felt so silly, so young, so normal at a college party and yet, it was one of the best times he had in a while. “It’s Beck’s turn.” Shane pointed to her.

Beck pondered carefully. “Okay. One...I’ve never been in love. Two...I used to wear a banana suit for work,” She gave a serious side eye to Raleigh and Shane. “Three...I can’t swim.”

“You’ve never been in love. That’s the lie.” Raleigh guessed. “Wronggg.” Beck smiled, alcohol obvious on her breath. “I can’t swim. That’s the lie.”

“I knew that!” Shane cheered himself on. Beck high-fived him. “Wait, wait wait. You mean a total sap like you has never been in love?”

Beck shook her head, giving a shrug. “No...it sounds silly, but I’ve always been waiting for ‘the one’.”

“You’re such a cornball.” Raleigh grinned. When it was time to go home, Beck stumbled out, arm in arm with Raleigh. “Where’s your driver?” Raleigh asked. “Hank? Oh...I told him to,” Hiccup. “Go home. He deserved the night off.”

“How were you planning on getting home, Princess?” Raleigh looked down at her, who somehow managed to look adorable while being wasted. “I figured...Shane would,” Hiccup. “Get me home.”

Raleigh looked around. Shane was chatting up a pretty girl. “Your friend’s preoccupied, Becks.”

“Ohh!” Beck groaned, standing straight on her own as she pressed to fingers to her temples stressfully. “I’ll just hail a cab, then. This is New York, right? I’ll just stand on the sidewalk and whistle!”

She stumbled over, clumsily so, in her high heels to the sidewalk and whistled with her fingers. “CABBBBB!”

He pulled her arm down to stop waving. “This isn’t Manhattan, darling. We’re forty miles out of the city. I’ll take you home.” He led her to his car. At the sight of his long, sleek, black sports car, Beck’s jaw fell. “Raleigh...I can’t sit in anything remotely this nice.”

“You’re kidding?” He asked as he opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

He helped her in, strapping her into the seatbelt and shut the door lightly. He got in the drivers seat and drove to her house. “I don’t think you understand...it took me three years of working at the smoothie shop to save up enough to buy a ‘99 Kia.”

Raleigh smirked. “You’re sure moving up in the world, banana girl.”

“Hey!” Beck whined. Twenty minutes into the car ride, Beck started to talk. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Did you?” Raleigh turned the question around. Beck nodded, a cheesy grin on her face. She reached her hand over, resting it on his arm that laid on the middle armrest between them. “I always have fun when I’m with you.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “Stoppppp.” Beck pulled her hand back. “It’s impossible to give you a compliment. It goes straight to your head.”

Raleigh let out a small laugh. “So were you lying back there?”

“Hm?” Beck asked.

“You’ve really never been in love?”

“Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?” Beck asked.

“You’re such a goody-two shoes...believer in love, helper of little old ladies crossing the road. Hell, hirds probably even land on your shoulders when you sing.” Raleigh said.

“That’s why I’m waiting for the right person.” Beck said. “I have so much love to give and...I don’t want to give my heart away to just anyone.”

Raleigh nodded understandingly. It wasn’t long before he found an opportunity to make fun of her. “So that time we kissed back stage...I didn’t steal your first kiss virginity, did I?”

“No!” Beck said, appalled. She could feel her cheeks burning red. “Good.” Raleigh nodded, pretending a relief washed over him. “How about your real...you know?”

“Virginity?” Beck hit his shoulder lightly. “You’re no gentleman, you know that?”

“Never said I was.” Raleigh grinned. Beck crossed her arms, turning away from him, upset. 

“Come on, we have a long car ride and we need something to talk about.” Raleigh insisted. “I’m not a virgin.” Beck whispered quietly, embarrassed as if her parents could hear.

“Come again?” Raleigh put his hand to his ear teasingly. 

“I’ve slept with people before, okay?!” Beck rolled her eyes, annoyed. “I’ve never been in love, but I’m not a prude!”

Raleigh laughed genuinely. “What about all that mumbo jumbo about waiting for the one?”

“Sex feels good...it’s fun. But I’ve never experienced it with someone special.” Beck shrugged, giving him a side-glance to gauge his reaction. It would have been a lot less embarrassing if he wasn’t so handsome. How did someone look that hot when they drive? It was beyond Beck, and she’d never know the answer.  The drive home was filled with more of Raleigh making fun of Beck until she got annoyed and turned on the radio to drown out his talking. It still didn’t work.

Raleigh pulled up to Beck’s apartment. “Here’s your stop, Princess.” He got out of the car and rushed to her door, opening it for her. Beck raised her eyebrows in surprise, still a little tipsy as he helped her out. “Who knew you were such a gentlemen?”

He held her hand, letting her balance on him as he shut the car door. “Wanna know another surprise?”

“Hm?” Beck couldn’t help but to smile as Raleigh kept her amused. “I’m going to walk you to your door, too.”

“Shut up.” Beck said jokingly. “It’s true.” Raleigh nodded as they headed to her door. “I’ll have to inform the press that their bad boy isn’t such a rebel after all.” Beck said as they stopped in front of her door. “My sales will plummet.” Raleigh pouted jokingly. 

“Well, this is me.” Beck said after a beat of silence, motioning to her door. “I know.” Raleigh said, looking in her eyes. Beck nervously glanced down at her feet, then back up at him. God, she felt like she was in sixteen candles, or one of those cheesy 80’s movies. How typical was her life now? She was the goody-two-shoes, standing at her door with the perfectly handsome bad boy. She had alot of fun with Raleigh tonight, and as her hand gripped on the doorknob and she was ready to say goodbye, she realized that maybe it was time to take a leap of faith.

“Raleigh?”

“Hm?”

She let go of the doorknob and pressed her hands to his cheeks, lunging forward for a kiss. Her lips pressed against his, hard and desperate. Raleigh’s hands gripped her waist, kissing her back hungrily. They made out on her doorstep until finally, Beck pulled away and grabbed the doorknob again. “Come in?”

The door opened with great haste and once it closed behind them, the keys were tossed onto a side table with terrible aim and they lunged for each other’s lips again. Beck’s fingers were laced into Raleigh’s hair as he kissed her so hard, her mouth parted, slipping his tongue into her mouth. His hands wandered down her back, pulling her hips, her body, her chest as close to him as possible. Beck pushed him onto the couch, straddling him with her legs over his hips, his arousal pressing against her.

“Beck.” Raleigh said breathlessly, his eyes devouring her hungrily. “I want you.” Beck declared, tossing off her costume props and his as well. In between kisses, she tugged at his jacket, insisting he pull it off. He quickly pulled it off and she unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it aside to reveal perfect abs. 

“God, can you be anymore hot?” She accidentally said out loud, causing a belly-laugh from Raleigh. Her eyes widened in horror, until she stopped his laughs with a kiss. “Shut up, I’m trying to be sexy.”

“You already are.” His voice was almost a low growl, his eyes hot on her as she kissed down his neck and down to his chest. He let out hot, heavy breathes as her lips traveled down his abs and past his belly button and over to his belly button. “Beck.” He said hungrily as her lips hovered over his arousal, planting a soft kiss their, her breath hot through his jeans. As she undid his belt buckle, he stopped her hands. He flipped her over to lay down on the couch. He hiked her dress up past her belly button, pressing soft kisses on her breast over her dress and down to her bare skin. Beck whimpered in desire as he pressed his lips to her inner thigh, dangerously close to her panties. He paused at her delicate spot, looking up at her past her legs and into her eyes. Beck continued to whimper, begging him with her eyes to continue. He kissed her through the fabric of her panties, feeling her warmth and knowing she was already wet for him. He kissed her softly a few more times, teeth nipping at the lace fabric.

“Raleigh.” Beck said breathlessly. “Please.”

He moved up from her legs and used an arm to support himself over her, his eyes staring deep into hers and lips dangerously close. “Please what?”

Beck didn’t say anything, only letting out a low moan and bucking her hips against his, both of them hot against each other. Raleigh lowered himself into her ear. “Say it.”

Beck ran her fingers through his hair. “I want you, please.”

“Oh, you want me make you cum?” Raleigh asked as  he pressed his fingers against the fabric of her panties, feeling for her soft spot. “Mmhm.” Beck nodded, bucking into his touch. She was desperate. Raleigh smiled, leaning forward and kissing her. “Not yet.”

Beck’s jaw fell. “What?”

“I want it to be special for you.” He got off of her, buttoning up his shirt. “You’re drunk. I won’t take advantage of you.”

“But Raleigh-” Beck was desperate, scrambling over to him as she pressed her hands to his chest. “I want you now.”

Raleigh cupped her cheek and kissed her long and hard, pulling away at the right time to leave her wanting more. “That’s all you’re going to get...for now.”

[theclanscript]

the five keys to lee hoseok

⋈ pairing: hoseok x reader ⋈ word count: 3,704 ⋈ genre: fluff ⋈ notes: as promised ♥

1.      He likes to share his time with you, for better or for worse

The slim silver bar was hanging over your head like a guillotine. You were flat on your back, your knees angled, your feet firmly pressed to the ground. There were voices, laughter, but they seemed so far very away and the bar so very close. You were sure that any second it would come crashing down on your throat, crushing your windpipe, snapping your neck.

A real guillotine seemed like the preferable option.

“There we go.” Hoseok leaned over you and gave the bar a reassuring slap. You flinched and looked to your left where your boyfriend had just adjusted the second round weight, making sure it sat tightly on the round piece of metal.

Bench pressing.

Of all the things Hoseok could have chosen when you had suggested that morning that you could come to the gym with him, for once. He usually went considerably late on Sundays – you would never, ever be up for his 4am workouts – and he had been dilly-dallying around the house in the morning, following you around, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and whispering into the skin of your neck how he had so little of you these days, how he missed you, loved you, and every sweet word had been accompanied by a brush of his lips and an invisible pout.

You know, you could show me that new gym you’re going to.

Foolish.

Rookie mistake.

You should have just made him ditch the gym to help you pick a new TV show to binge watch.

Even when he had marched you past the treadmills, ellipticals, and other machines straight into the weight room, you had anticipated a few light dumbbells and maybe some squats. You had seen cute videos on the internet where one person would hold down their partner’s feet as they did sit ups and were rewarded with a kiss and a silly little giggle for every exertive movement. Instead, Hoseok had done some light warm-up exercises with you, and less than twenty minutes later you were lying face-up on a cushioned bench.

And now you were expected to press.

“Alright, babe.” Hoseok stood at your head, smiling down at you as if he was having the best day ever. You swallowed a sigh. The things you were willing to do for this man. “Grab the bar, but don’t put out your elbows too far. You want them closer to your body to make sure the rotator cuff can do its job. Also, make sure your thumbs are reaching around so the bar can’t slip from your hands and fall down.”

Your eyes widened but Hoseok didn’t notice. He was busy emphasizing his words by positioning your hands the exact same way he had just instructed you to. When he was satisfied with his work, he bent down to steal a kiss from you while you were gripping the metal as if it had already been released from the rack.

“Don’t be scared. I only put on 50lbs, 25 on each side, that’s a fairly low weight to start with.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, far from convinced.

“I’ll spot you.”

“Does that mean you’ll keep me from dying?”

Hoseok chuckled. “Yes.”

You released the sigh this time and braced yourself, which effectively consisted of you pressing your back into the cushion and flexing your calf muscles close to the point of cramping. Just when you were about to accept your fate and lift the bar from its secure position, you heard a voice coming from outside of your field of vision.

“Hey guys.” Hyunwoo leaned over you just like Hoseok had earlier and offered you a friendly smile, his crescent eyes curling in the opposite direction as the corners of his mouth, as if they were going to meet halfway.

“Hey,” you greeted and relaxed your body. You could barely keep yourself from dropping your arms and turning into an upward-facing pile of humiliation.

“I didn’t know you lift,” Hyunwoo said and gave Hoseok an impressed glance.

“I don’t, really,” you admitted shyly. “It’s my first time so Hoseok went easy on me.”

Hoseok beamed at you, not noticing Hyunwoo’s pause. Hyunwoo narrowed his eyes and touched the tips of his fingers to one of the weights clinging to the bar as if he could confirm something he had noticed earlier by making contact with the black iron.

“Easy?”

“Yeah,” you replied hesitantly. “25lbs on each side isn’t much, is it?”

“It’s not,” Hyunwoo agreed.

“Good.”

“But these weights are in kilograms.”

Hoseok’s smile froze. Hyunwoo raised an eyebrow.

“What?” You sat up so fast you hit your head on the silver metal and could barely stop yourself from cussing out the bar, the bench, the pressing, and your boyfriend. Hyunwoo immediately rushed off to get an ice pack for the bump forming on your forehead, and Hoseok was already kneeling next to you, stumbling through a tirade of oh my god’s and are you okay’s and I am so sorry’s. Once the pain started to subside you reached for him and made it a point to laugh and kiss him and tell him it was alright. You knew the swelling would go away on its own, but it was in your hands to ensure Hoseok wasn’t going to be the one to scar.

Still, you made him buy you junk food on the way home and spent the rest of the day on the couch with him, your head in his lap, watching a new show until you blissfully fell asleep with his hand in your hair. And on days when you felt dramatic – or when he suggested to take you to the gym again – you were quick to remind him of the time you had almost fallen victim to a vicious bench press murder.

2.      You’ll know he’s truly comfortable with you when he can finally be selfish

The bus was racing through the streets despite the considerable amount of traffic. It was raining heavily and sometimes it felt like the metal monster you had entrusted your life with was lifted right off the asphalt, floating on water for a few feet before regaining traction. You were used to it, unlike some tourists who were clinging to the plastic handles, probably praying they’d make it to their destination in one piece. Your fingers where ghosting over the screen of your phone without much purpose, to the point where your whole hand froze when the display suddenly changed to an incoming call, your idle brain needing time to process the unexpected interruption.

Hoseokie.

“Aren’t you at work?” you said after you had picked up without a greeting. You had been dating for far too long to still bother with formalities.

“Yeah.”

You frowned. His voice sounded tired, heavy, like the rainclouds over the city, and just as triste.

“Are you okay?”

Hoseok sighed. You listened. You already knew you were about to get an answer he rarely let himself give.

“No.” Another moment of silence. “Can you come here?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you meet me at home?”

“I can’t leave, I have work to do.”

Your first thought was then why do you need me there, but it quickly occurred to you that one had nothing to do with the other.

“It’s late.”

“I know.”

You held your breath. In your mind, you were trying to remember if this had ever happened. Not the fact that Hoseok needed you – that was pretty much a daily thing. But the fact that he disregarded your comfort, your convenience in favor of his own needs. He had never summoned you like this, never demanded you like this. He was a man of compromise, a man who always made sure that you had it easy, simple. It was almost unheard of that you didn’t get your way when it came to restaurant choices, dates, or movies, even if you didn’t particularly insist on anything. He was always just giving, giving, giving you everything.

And now, finally, he was ready to take.

It made you smile against your phone.

“I’m on my way. I’ll bring food.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Another moment of silence.

“I love you.”

3.      He’s bad at fighting. Like, really bad.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Angrily, you kicked the covers off yourself and planted your feet on the soft carpet next to your bed. With sleep in your eyes and fury in your stomach you stomped out of the room, through the hallway, into the kitchen. Hoseok’s hands immediately stilled when he saw you, his eyebrows rising in confused surprise.

“You’re up?”

“Am I up?” you huffed. “Am I up?”

“Yes?” Hoseok said, suddenly sensing that he was in quite a bit of trouble.

“You’re running the blender like a madman at 2am and you’re asking me if I’m up?”

Hoseok squinted at you. “I just made a protein smoothie. I do that every morning, you know that.”

“Yes, I do, and usually I don’t even hear it. What were you blending? Small animal bones?”

“Frozen-“

“That was a rhetorical question!”

“This is ridiculous,” Hoseok snapped and grabbed his tumbler. “You can’t get mad at me just because you feel like it. I didn’t do anything differently. Maybe you weren’t sleeping well? Maybe you were already awake?”

“No, I wasn’t!” you protested, knowing full well that he may have had a point. But at 2am you were too drunk on the last remnants of the little sleep you had gotten to further explore any possible points that were being made.

“Well, whatever it is, it’s not my problem.” Hoseok stared you down from across the kitchen, his face and nerves worn from long busy days and short restless nights. You crossed your bare arms and stared back, the tiles cold against the soles of your feet.

“Maybe you should just sleep at the gym,” you growled, annoyed and hurt. “I’m sure they’ll let you blend all night long if you want to.”

“Yes, they would!” Hoseok yelled and stormed past you, pushing hard against your shoulder in the process. You stumbled aside a bit more dramatically than necessary and watched him disappear into the living room. Not even ten seconds later, he came back out, his wide frame seemingly filling up most of the hallway as he stopped in front of you.

“I’m really sorry about that,” he said, his voice still raised. “I hope that didn’t hurt. I’ll just make my shakes in the evening before I go to sleep. Okay?”

You couldn’t hide a small smile.

“Okay.”

“Now please go back to bed, you’re going to catch a cold out here.”

“Okay,” you repeated without moving. When people asked you if you and Hoseok ever fought, you always had to think for a moment before answering with a vague I guess. Your fights generally consisted of the two of you blowing up in each other’s faces and making up less than two minutes later because neither of you could bear the thought of being angry at the other – or them being angry at you.

Hoseok looked at you expectantly, then he rolled his eyes and smirked. He planted a quick smooch on your lips before putting his hands on your shoulders and physically turning you toward the bedroom.

“Goodnight, babe,” he said lowly, giving your butt a tiny slap to get you going. You giggled and went back to bed, sleeping better than you had all week.

4.      Suddenly all his songs are about you; you’re his favorite melody

You were sitting in the old office chair in Hoseok’s studio, swirling, twirling, barely paying attention to what was happening on the computer screen. He had explained some of the knicks and the knacks of his soft- and hardware to you about a million times, but you were still astonished by how he was able to piece all of the little snippets and tracks together to create a beautiful, unique, stunning song, like he seemed to do all the time. His creativity was a well that never dried up, his resources as endless as his ambition. You were fascinated by everything Hoseok was and everything Hoseok did, his humble passion, his dreams deeply rooted in reality. You were convinced that he could do anything he set his mind to – after all, he had done it time and time again in the past.

The chair stopped when you got too lost in your own thoughts to move your body. You blankly stared at your boyfriend’s back, his concentrated shoulders, his nimble fingers, the line of his jaw. Despite the fact that you had nothing to do, you loved watching him work, loved watching his eyes and his expressions as he combined notes and melodies that only reached you as muffled sounds from his headphones. He was so enthusiastic, so genuine, so beautiful you couldn’t help but reach out your fingertips and touch him. Hoseok immediately slid the headphones down to his neck and turned around, a patient smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry, are you bored, babe? I’ll be done in a second, I just want to finish arranging Jooheonie’s rap on this.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you replied softly, inching closer with your chair to put a hand on his cheek. “Take your time. I’m okay.”

Hoseok looked at you for a moment. Then he turned slightly to free his right leg from under the desk.

“Come here,” he said and pulled you toward him, guiding you by the waist until you were sat on his leg. “I’ll show you something else.”

You wrapped an arm around his neck as he put the headphones on you, making sure not to cover your left ear so you could still hear him. He snaked his right arm around you to operate the mouse. With a few clicks he opened a new file and soon a quiet melody filled your ear, filled your head, filled your heart. You swallowed hard.

“This sounds so sad.”

“I was sad,” Hoseok admitted and pressed you closer to him. “I started composing this when I was on tour and had somehow convinced myself that we couldn’t last. We had only been dating a few weeks and then I was gone for a couple of months. It was a really hard time. For the both of us, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, not wanting to remember all the times your relationship had been put to the test, and not wanting to think about all the times that were still ahead of you. “But we made it.”

“We always have,” Hoseok added. You looked down at him and met his eyes, your own pain and hope mirrored in them. The melody still tugged on the strings of your heart and you felt tears burning their way up your throat. To stop them, you leaned down and kissed Hoseok; a kiss to ban all the sad memories and seal the promise that you would always, always make it.

“It’s a nice song, though,” you said once you had parted. Hoseok smiled and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah. But I prefer to write happy songs about you.”

“Oh? How come I don’t know any of them?”

“Oh, baby,” Hoseok chuckled, his eyes boring into yours as if they could tell you everything before his words even got the chance. “You know all of them.”

You couldn’t help but blush a little. There were times, times like this, when Hoseok got so sincere, so intense, it froze your body and set your soul ablaze. His steadfast arms around you, he had a way of making you feel so safe, safe from harm, safe from the world, safe from yourself. You had become a stronger, a better person because of him – and, in part, for him. He was your favorite motivation, your favorite inspiration.

Your favorite reason.

“I wrote another one about you,” he suddenly said, his arms still firmly wrapped around your waist. “It’s not finished yet, but you can hear bits and pieces of it. Like Jooheonie’s rap.”

“Sure!” You sat up again, shimmied a little to find a comfortable position on his leg, and waited for him to start the track. The song was upbeat, fun, and you found yourself humming along to the music within seconds. You watched the screen as Hoseok skipped part of the base melody to get to Jooheon’s rap that made you laugh from the very first line.

“What do you think?” Hoseok asked, grinning at you swaying and humming along to the melody – a melody that reminded him of you so much. It was clear, cheerful, playful, simple; as simple as his feelings: he loved you. There were not conditions, not fine print, no ifs or buts.

It was just you.

“Speak of the Devil,” Hoseok mumbled when his phone started ringing. He grabbed it from where it was lying on the desk and picked up.

“Hyung!” you could hear Jooheon’s voice blaring from the other end, but Hoseok was quick to cut him off.

“Sorry, friend, don’t call me.” He swiftly pulled you into his chest again and his hot breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine. “I’m a little busy right now.”

5.      He deserves nothing less than everything

From the moment Lee Hoseok met you, he knew he wanted in. He wanted in your life, in your head, in your heart. He wasn’t the type to come on strong or confidently, Lee Hoseok was shy smiles, stolen glances, standing a little closer to you than he probably should have. He was sweet text messages all day and night, he was have you eaten’s and let me know when you get home’s. He was the type to listen and remember because, well, manners, but also because nothing was quite as important as you. He knew that it would eventually have to balance out a little, but as long as he could, as long as it was humanly possible, he would give you everything.

Because you were his everything.

Hoseok was no fool, though. If you hadn’t reciprocated his feelings, if you hadn’t let him into your life and your heart, he would have simply walked away. Or tried to, anyway. He knew the pain of cutting you out of his life would have been shorter and more bearable than having to face the constant reminder of everything he wanted but couldn’t have. It would have been easier to never see you again than to have to see you as a friend.

But, much to Hoseok’s secret bewilderment, you loved him back.

You had opened all the doors for him, quite literally; he thought he was going to burst into tiny pieces of happiness when you had given him the code to your apartment. You held nothing back, and Hoseok was more than willing to place his heart at your feet. You had no doubt in your mind that he would be by your side forever.

When you had found love with Lee Hoseok, you had found the love of your life.

And he loved you just as much, deeply, desperately, devastatingly.

It wasn’t hard to give him everything because it never felt like you were losing anything. All the love you gave, you received tenfold, all the sacrifices you made, he made up to you a million times over, and you knew that all you had given was safe with him.

I have another thing to ask of you, he had whispered the night he had proposed; a night of the brightest stars and softest touches.

What more could a man want, he had breathed into your ear on the day of your wedding; a day of the most precious firsts and sweetest promises. His arm had been holding you close to his body as he led you across the floor, the song you had chosen filling the air, your movements effortlessly matching as you danced surrounded by your loved ones. There had been tears in his eyes, or maybe your own. They were tears of happiness, tears of pride, tears of reassurance that everything was exactly as it was supposed to be.

In the years that followed, you would sometimes catch Hoseok staring at you absently, his fingers hovering above the keyboard or the plate or whatever he had been in the middle of, and when he noticed you staring back at him, he would smile, gently, almost shyly, and look at you, behold you, with love and contentment and calmness. The way that only Hoseok could look at you, and the way he only looked at you.

I truly have everything.

You gulped and took a deep breath. You got up, walked out of the room and into the living room. You sat on the sofa next to where Hoseok was watching YouTube videos about the myths of protein. He kept watching for a minute or so until he noticed you weren’t assuming your usual slouching couch position, instead sitting straight like an arrow and staring firmly ahead with your brows knitted together. He paused the video and sat up himself.

“Something wrong, babe?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not feeling well?”

“I feel fine,” you replied and cleared your throat. “For now.”

Hoseok inched closer to you, visibly alarmed now.

“Babe? Will you please look at me and tell me what’s going on?”

Finally, you turned toward him, barely able to contain the feelings raging in your chest. Your fingertips were tingling, your stomach upside down, and you were sure rainbows would spill from your mouth if you opened it.

“Hoseok, you were wrong.”

“I was?”

“Yes.” You almost giggled. “You do not have everything.”

Hoseok seemed a little relieved at your smile. He leaned in to kiss you, his lips lingering against yours, his hand finding your waist and squeezing it tenderly. He looked like he thought you were making a joke and he had to wait for the punchline.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded and held up the pregnancy test in your hand.

“Positive.”

[authoressskr]

Kiss Me Good

This was written for @sgtjbuccky’s End of Year Writing Challenge.

This is my first time writing Marvel, so I hope I did it justice!

Prompt: “I don’t know what to say. I’ve always been really bad at goodbyes.”  “Yeah. Me too.” (Prompt bolded in text below.)

Characters: Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Thor Odinson, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Pepper Potts (Mrs. Stark), Natasha Romanov, Erika (OFC), Wanda Maximoff, Mention of Hulk/Bruce Banner   ::   Word Count: 5295

Pairings: Steve Rogers x f!Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Injuries

Note: PLEASE do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works (and claim as your own) on any other platform WITHOUT MY EXPRESS PERMISSION AND CONSENT.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

“Got any new year’s resolutions?”

“Can’t say that I do, Tony.”

“Such a bore, Captain.” Steve sighs at Tony. He really should have known better than to stop by the kitchen on his way to the gym. He removes the lid from the jar containing the rest of the smoothie he’d made before his run, and hoping to avoid the New Years Eve party discussion, swallows down what’s left. But Tony just stares at him expectantly, popping a few chocolate covered blueberries into his mouth with a knowing smile as he makes himself comfortable leaning against the kitchen island.

“Don’t die?”

“That’s a nearly every day resolution for us.” Tony rubs his hands together. “What you need is a good way to start the new year. Maybe be kissed by a pretty lady?” Steve frowns, not liking where this is headed at all.

“I don’t want to go to another party, Tony.”

“Well, that’s a terrible way to welcome the new year - with a bah humbug mentality towards my parties.”

“I am attending!” Thor chimes in cheerfully, tugging at the towel wrapped around the back of his neck with a wide smile.

“See? Thor is coming! And happy about my party to boot.” Tony smile in agreement with the Asgardian as Sam and Bucky walk into the living room, making Steve think he can finally get out of this conversation.

“Isn’t Pepper’s new assistant going to be there? Man, I’ll really miss Erika. Glad her husband got that job in Japan though.” Clint remarks casually from the other side of the bar, tucked close to the wall with a bowl of ice cream in front of him. Huh. Steve hadn’t even noticed he was there. That’s what he gets for attempting to dodge Tony...an annoyingly intuitive former assassin.

“The cute dame who spilled the coffee all over Steve?” Steve suppresses the groan threatening to spill from his mouth, shooting a glare at his best friend instead. Bucky just shrugs then leans on the wall by Clint, all eyes now on Steve.

“I do not want to go to the New Years’ Eve party.” He says it firmly, turning away from his friends to rinse out the dregs from his cup.

“I do not like green eggs and ham.” Tony mocks as three sets of heels come clicking up behind him.

“Tell me the party isn’t Dr. Seuss themed, Tony.”

“No, Pepper. But that is an excellent idea. F.R.I.D.A.Y. please make a note of that for future party ideas.”

“Yes, boss.” Tony give Pepper a smile before directing his attention to her right.

“Ah! The cute dame in question!” Steve scowls at Tony while Bucky actually leans back in his seat a little to wink at her. Watching her forehead furrow slightly before Erika chastises Tony and Bucky for teasing the new hire.

“It’s alright, Erika. I’ve endured worse than being called a cute dame. What can I help you with Mr. Stark?”

“Well you see, Captain Rogers over there doesn’t want to go to my fabulous New Years’ party tonight.”

“Isn’t that his prerogative, sir?” She cocks her head to the side, ever so slightly and Clint smirks at Steve, watching him definitely not watch her.

“I won’t stand for that kind of talk in this company, Miss Y/N.” She gives him a sharp nod and small smile. “Alright, now, if you were me - how would you convince the illustrious Mr. Rogers to attend?”

“I believe you would have already mentioned the copious amounts of liquor, all the attractive models and generally beautiful women, and the delicious finger foods.” Tony nods at her words, forefinger tapping against his lips. “Well, I would need to know more about him but I think for starters, I would attempt to find something the good Captain was interested in. Perhaps invite the World War II vets that live nearby? Give him a three hour cop out time? Have Ms. Romanov use her far more talented self to get Mr. Rogers to agree to come?” She pauses then looks Steve dead in the eye, fighting not to smile. “Fondue?”

Bucky snorts loudly, faking a cough to cover his smothered laughter as Steve’s eyes widen and he damn near begins to stutter out a series of questions...only for her phone to ring.

“Excuse me everyone.” And she clicks her way down the hallway a little to take her call.

“Where did you say you picked her up from again?” Sam asks Pepper with a smile.

“She came highly recommended from Fury.” Tony pipes up as Erika nods seriously.

“Mrs. Stark, that was Thomas from Tech, eighth floor. He wanted to let you know that the loading dock damaged some of the cargo due to the snow and ice on the ramps.”

“We’ll go down and take a look. Did he say what the cargo was?”

“He sent an itemized list.”

“Very good, Y/N. Well, Tony, I came up here to let you know that you’ll need to find another DJ. The one you booked slid on some ice this morning - on his motorcycle - and broke his collarbone and fractured two ribs.”

“Pay him for a week, his hospital stay and I’ll find someone else for tonight. And I trust you two ladies will also be coming tonight?” Heads bob in agreement before Pepper kisses his cheek and says a quick goodbye before disappearing towards the elevator with her assistants in tow. Tony turns his gaze back to Steve, eyes damn near twinkling at the flustered face Steve had pulled just a few minutes ago.

“Fondue?”

“Shut up.” He glares at Bucky then turns towards the gym, Bucky quickly catching up with his escaping best friend, both sets of super soldier ears catching Thor innocently asking what fondue was.

“I suppose this means you’re going tonight now?”

“I’m gonna use you as a punching bag, Buck.”

“Like that’s gonna get that pretty dame outta your head, punk.” They didn’t even make it to the gym before Steve punched Bucky. Hard.

Bucky just laughed.

You could hear the music and chatter through the elevator doors, nervously running hands down the front of your dress before Erika politely coughed as her husband chuckled beside her.

“Better get used to this. Tony likes parties to distract himself. Also, I think, as a sort of calendar too.”

“That’s a loud ass calendar.” You mutter, warily looking out of the elevator doors at the throng of people before you, trying to fight back the cringe threatening to flash across your face.

“Come on. Night’s young and the elevator doors aren’t just going to stay open.” Erika gives you a little shove forward, sending you from the safe silver space and into the noisy expanse. “Don’t worry, this doesn’t happen too often. And you’ve handled everything else so far with flying colors!” She nudges her shoulder against your own before dragging her husband towards the bar.

“You look lost.” Tony’s words made you jump a little, making his easy going smile widen just a tad. Smiling to hide your nerves, you nod.

“Overwhelmed, I think is the word I would have chosen.” Tony offers his arm with a small eye roll.

“Overwhelmed? By anyone who knows Fury? I highly doubt that. Now, what will you be drinking?” You hesitate slightly, Tony guiding you towards the bar, nodding and smiling as he passed his guests. “Something strong for someone who faced down Captain America?” You can feel the heat in your cheeks and ears, eyes dropping down at his teasing.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I should have been more respectful.”

“Well, he is old.” Tony agrees with a nod, holding up two fingers to the bartender. “Shot? Now, no saying no. I’m your boss.” He hands you the shot glass and you clink before tossing it back and letting out a little hiss at the burn of the alcohol.

“12% my boss.” Tony points a finger and shakes it gently, grinning.

“Ah, Captain! And the Silver Sergeant!” Your spine straightens, shooting Tony a panicked look as his smile only grows. He leans in and hugs you, whispering “Guess that I’m only 12% of an ally right now.”

You’re being more than 12% of a dick right now, Tony Stark. You think as he disappears into the crowd. Forcing yourself to move a little closer to the bar and order a drink. You hear a soft grunt, which makes you wrinkle your forehead a little.

“You, uh, come here often?” You can’t help the chuckle that spills out of your mouth, quickly thanking the bartender before turning to face Captain Steven Grant Rogers.

“No.” Bucky’s shoulders shake a little at the interaction, moving around the two of you to get to the bar. Steve’s neck and ears turn a lovely shade of pink at your answer. Your eyes quickly widen as your teeth sink into your bottom lip. “Sorry. You’re just, um, fluster-worthy?”

“Are you asking…?” He rumbles out a light laugh. “Is that a word?” You take a little sip to steel yourself.

“I said it aloud, thus it is a word.” You both are surprised at your confident tone, the good captain smirking down at you.

“There she is again.” Bucky thrust a glass into Steve’s hand before heading towards Clint a handful of feet away. You miss the look they share, your mind too busy trying to think of a way to first, apologize and second, smooth this over so as not to affect your job. Sucking in a deep breath, you gesture to an empty spot by the terrace doors as he nods in agreement. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, but Steve offering his arm is not it at all. You dip your head in gratitude before linking your free arm loosely with his.

The cacophony of the room seems to die down a little once you reach the massive doors and you’re suddenly trying to dry swallow down your nerves. One of his big hands gesture to a few plush chairs.

“No, thank you. You?”

“Nah.” You chuckle against the rim of your glass as you take another sip causing him to cock an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Just didn’t expect you to be a man of so few words, I suppose. All the stories I’ve heard…”

“Stories.” He scoffs, taking a long drink from the tumbler in his hand and dropping his gaze to the floor.

“I didn’t mean to insult you.” His blue eyes shoot up from his shoes to your eyes. “Now or, you know, earlier today.” His mouth opens to reply as you quickly blurt out, “Coulson mentioned it to me.” A chuckle rumbles out of his wide chest and you take the time to really appreciate - look - at what he’s wearing. The gray blue button up is stretched across that wide expanse of chest, with a black dress jacket fitting snugly over that. Black slacks and black dress shoes complete the outfit, you notice just before his voice rang out, moving a little closer to you as the crowd shifted in the room with more couples beginning to dance.

“I didn’t take it personal.” A handsome, boyish smile is plastered on his face - reassuring you. “Just something I hadn’t heard since before I came out of the ice. Startled me.”

“Well I am sorry to have startled you then, Captain Rogers.”

“Steve.” He corrects quickly before finishing his drink.

“Steve.” You confirm, smiling up at him. “I didn’t mean to spill the coffee on you a couple weeks ago either. You just seem to make me nervous.”

“Why do I make you nervous, Y/N?” There is a sudden lump in your throat as he smiles down at you, some of his rigid posture relaxing just a tad.

“Well, you and Bucky,” His smile goes down a few watts, you’re sure of it, “Are god’s honest heroes. Both now and during World War II.” And the wattage is back up. “On top of that, you are a very imposing figure - 6 plus of solid muscle - who is apparently a sometimes terrifying teddy bear?”

“You callin’ me soft?” He teases, easing just a tad closer as you begin to relax, his finger tapping absentmindedly against his empty tumbler. You flutter a hand to your chest, gasping softly.

“Do I look like a person to call you names, good sir?”

“I don’t know,” He drops his gaze again before raising them slowly, those blue eyes piercing through you, “Pretty dames can get away with an awful lot.”

“You callin’ me pretty?”

“Yes ma’am.” You nearly drop your glass at the bashful blush that creeps up his neck and the too cute drop of his gaze. You down what’s left of your drink and clear your throat, grateful when a waiter comes by to gather both your glasses. You take a chance and reach forward, placing a hand on his forearm and give it a little squeeze as his head snaps up.

“Thank you for the compliment.” You mutter softly, looking him in the eye briefly before scanning the crowd to get away from his intense baby blues. You weren’t sure your heart could take too much of those eyes gazing directly into your own.

Steve shuffles a little, Sam having moved into his line of sight a half dozen feet behind you. Sam is pointing at you and then his own glass and making a forward rolling motion with his free hand. Geez.

“So, uh, how’d Tony convince you to come work here?” Hearing your soft chuckle makes his heart thrum a little louder in his chest and he can’t keep the smile from his face for long.

“Well, the money isn’t terrible,” you pause as a waiter comes by with an array of appetizers, taking a napkin and a few as he did the same. Bucky is beside Sam, pointing to the chairs - a hell of a lot more subtly than Sam - his hair swinging slightly as he gestured.

“Would you like to sit now?” He questions, his chest tightening as she smiled at him and nods, moving just a few feet to the plush red pair of chairs. She pats the chair next to her, crossing her ankles and angling her legs to the right - politely waiting for him to sit. “Anything besides the money?” He prompts her to continue, popping a bacon, cheese and artichoke encrusted square of bread into his mouth.

“I’d never been past South Dakota, so this was a big opportunity. Not just to see New York, but to travel with Pepper as well.” She pops a stuffed mushroom cap in her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed at the taste before opening and continuing. “I know it’s work, but I’ve always wanted to travel.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Um, it’s hard to explain...I’m pretty shy most of the time and by the time I had a good job and a little extra money, most of my friends were getting married and having children so they couldn’t go. I didn’t want to go by myself, so,” He watched your left shoulder rise and fall as your fingers tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, more from habit than actual need. “I, um, just worked.”

“I know how that feels. Just waiting, ya know. It’s more difficult than havin’ an adventure.” A bout of rich laughter come from you, startling him in a wonderful way.

“Except for your kinds of adventure I suppose. Those seem pretty difficult.”

“Bucky likes to say that once they cured me of the laundry list of ailments I had, I was even more reckless than before. Which he insists is ridiculously reckless.”

“You say that as if you aren’t ridiculously reckless…” She narrows her eyes playfully, making him swallow a little harder than he intended, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“Name callin’ again, Y/N.”

“Okay. Okay.” Shifting a little closer to him, she pops another appetizer into her mouth. “If you could go anywhere, Steve, where would you go?”

“Somewhere with white sandy beaches and ocean for miles. Just lying under a tree and looking out over it all. What about you, doll?”

You cock an eyebrow, but don’t say anything about the name. “I’d like to go somewhere historic, somewhere like the Mediterranean - Italy, Greece, somewhere like that. I’d also absolutely adore going to Scotland.”

“So bright, breezy wine drenched easy going places or Scotland with it’s clouds and rain and rolling green hills?”

A nod of excitement is his answer, her eyes lighting up. “Have you seen those little igloo hut things in, um, Finland I think?” He shakes his head, grinning simply for the fact that the excitement is nearly palpable. “Well, they’re little huts that you can rent and it’s surrounded by trees and you can see the Northern Lights and I would love to do that. Enjoy a hot spring during the day, pick up some weird chocolate I’ve never tried and just lay there with someone special - cause the ceilings of the igloos are super thick glass - and watch the Northern Lights til we fall asleep.”

“That sounds like a hell of an adventure, doll.”

“Erika said I was probably a travel agent or something in another life.”

“Maybe you were a great adventurer and you still got the itch to go. Maybe not discovering new, dangerous lands, but appreciating the ones we have access to now.” A boldness must have come over her again because her hand settles over his, her thumb swiping just by his own.

“I’m callin’ you soft now, Steve.” He wants to blurt out that at this point she can call him whatever she damn well pleases. Ever since Tony and Pepper had introduced her to them, he’d been starstruck. Bucky called it “mooning” on account of his “cow eyes” every time he saw her. Steve didn’t care what anyone called it either. He had a soft spot for her and if not for the fact that his tongue was currently stuck to the roof of his mouth he’d probably be a chucklehead and say something stupid.

“Just a reckless, soft, dangerous, 6 foot plus teddy bear.”

“You forgot smooth.” Leaning in closer, he mirrors you, a little too eager for closeness. Just over your shoulder is Clint - pursing his lips repeatedly and pointing at your back, making his fight back the urge to glare. “A lot smoother than Sam and Clint and Bucky.” He can feel the heat shoot up his neck and settle in, his cheeks and ears burning red as the butterflies in his stomach kick up their fluttering. Tilting your head towards the windows with a sweet and knowing smile on your lips, “Windows are reflective, Captain.”

“They’re - uh - just tryin’ to help. I got a bit of a crush.” You snap back like the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“On me?” It’s spoken so quietly, had he had normal hearing he would have missed it.

“Yeah - coffee, fondue and all.” There’s silence, which he won’t admit worries him, making him sit up straighter as well. He’s pretty sure this just went upside down on him, since you just sit there with your forehead scrunched slightly - makin’ you look even cuter in his opinion - before he realizes he shouldn’t be thinking of you in that way anymore. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. And I apologize for that, doll, I mean, Y/N.” The butterflies in his stomach promptly turn to rocks in his stomach. “I won’t --” The rest of his sentence is cut off by the softness of your lips against his.

“Midnight isn’t for another two hours!” Sam shouts over your shoulder as you two pull apart, with what he’s sure is identical looks of surprise painted on both your faces.

You both ignore the light laughter around you, Steve tugging you onto your feet and slipping out the french doors to the balcony.

“I have a bit of a crush too.” Your confession whispered shyly into the chilly night air. Steve shrugs his jacket off and slips it onto your shoulders.

“Anyone I know?” He’s closer now, your soft perfume tickling his nose.  

“I spilled coffee on him two weeks ago. And sort of  wrangled him into a party he really didn’t want to go to.” Her fingers brush up along a few of the buttons of his shirt before their eyes meet.

“That guy sounds like a pushover.” You move closer, your chests now almost touching. “Must be a special dame.”

“Well, he is an exceptional man. A softie at heart. A star spangled man with a plan.” He groans loudly at the last bit, causing a laugh to spill from your pretty lips. “It was really too good to pass up, Steve. You can’t hold it against me.”

“A kiss might make me feel better.” Even as he says it, he can feel the heat flush through him.

“Come here with that cute boyish smile.” This one he wants to do right, his hands fluttering down to your waist as his gaze darts from your lips to your eyes. You give him a small nod before pressing closer and raising up on the balls of your feet with your hands planted firmly on his chest.

Pressing your lips together chastely, Steve marveling at how soft your lips are before tilting his head slightly and moving them against yours gently. A soft inhale of breath through your nose spurs him on - spurs him to dart his tongue over her bottom lip. She gives a little gasp but he pulls back, her forehead scrunching up again before she opens her eyes, seeing his lips tugged upward in a gentle smile.

“Gotta treat you like a lady.”

“Really? Your hand sliding down to my ass was gentlemen-like but french kissing isn’t?”

“What a dame.” He mutters happily before his hand returns to her ass, pulling her back against his chest and his mouth slanting over hers happily and a bit greedily.

By the time they pull apart, they’re both sporting dopey smiles. “Can I take you out tomorrow night?”

“As long as you’re my New Years Eve kiss, Rogers, you got yourself a deal.”

Your floating on cloud 9 the next morning at work, hastily clicking your way through a few emails when you hear a soft knock, drawing your gaze up to the tall, blonde drink of water filling out the doorway.

“Hey, doll.”

“Hey! What’re you doing here?” You rise from your desk, moving around the desk as he enters the office. When you meet in the middle, he leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips.

“I, uh, needed to talk to you.”

Uh-oh. Your chest tightens at his words. Was last night a mistake? Swallowing hard you plaster on a smile. “Go ahead.”

“We got called out for a mission. We leave in about an hour. So I wanna ask for a rain check for our date tonight.” He pauses, big blue eyes giving you a puppy dog look. “If you’d have me still.”

You relax and give a small chuckle. “I think I could wait a little longer, handsome.” His big hand wraps around yours, giving a little squeeze as his face brightens up with a smile. “Thank you for coming up here and talking to me.” You heave a little sigh and squeeze his hand back, feeling his thumb rub across the back of your hand soothingly. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve always been really bad at goodbyes.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I guess just kiss me good and be safe, Steve.”

“I can do that, doll.”

“Miss, the boss requires your presence in the infirmary.” You set the papers onto your keyboard, grab your cell and rush towards the elevator, pressing the up button a few more times than necessary. You’d never been called to the infirmary and that worried you more than multi-billion dollar deal paperwork.

Once you arrive, you shove your phone into your dress pocket and book it down the hallway towards the more private end where the Avengers are usually treated.

You see Sam leaning against the wall, nodding to his right as you approach, your forehead scrunching as you turn, not able to stop the loud gasp that escapes from you.

Steve and Bucky look like they’ve gone a few dozen rounds with heavy machinery.

“They heal fast,” Wanda whispers as she enters behind you, giving your elbow a friendly squeeze. “They looked worse when Tony and the Hulk dragged them out of the building. I know that isn’t helpful, but just to put it in perspective.”

“Barnes and Rogers are sedated because they had multiple fractures in their legs and feet and continued to walk and run on them.” Tony come in with a little less of his usual sashay, huffing out a breath as he gave a small smile. “Just easier to deal with them this way.”

“Is this why you called me down here, sir?” You swallow the lump in your throat, moving closer to stand between both beds. You take Bucky’s hand and give it a squeeze before turning and running your fingers through Steve’s messy hair.

“Figured they’re rather wake up to your face than mine. And I know the boss, she won’t mind.” Tony winks at you before pushing off the wall and heading for the door. “Oh, and they’ll be awake in about 45 mins or so.”

“Thanks, boss.” His hand waves you off as he exits the room, Wanda giving you a wink of her own - arranging some water and glasses on the table on the other side of Steve’s bed - before gracefully sailing from the room. You withdraw your hands from the super soldiers before pulling a plush chair between them, settling in and returning your hands where they’d been, gently cradling Bucky’s hand in your own and running your fingers through Steve’s hair.

“I don’t really know many stories off the top of my head...and I’m drawing a blank on what to talk about...don’t you hate when that happens?” You chew on your bottom lip, thinking about things you had memorized that weren’t work related. “Do you guys like Edgar Allan Poe?”

“The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went envying her and me-

Yes! - that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.”

Steve wanted to let his eyes flutter open but it felt so nice, fingers running through his hair and her soft voice easing him awake, he didn’t want to open his eyes just yet.

“But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we-

Of many far wiser than we-

And neither the angels in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

He can hear Bucky’s heartbeat kick up from its resting rate before the short pause she’d taken is broken again.

“For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,

In the sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.”

Bucky clears his throat, startling her.

“No offense, gorgeous, but that was a little depressing.”

“Edgar Allan Poe does tend to be more depressing, sorry. And it’s one of the few things I still have memorized that isn’t work related.”

“Real pretty though.” Steve smiles out, her hand stilling in his hair.

“Depressing pretty.” Bucky chuckles.

“Kind of like your faces right now.” She teases, both men wiggling into a sitting position and giving her playful glares. “Would you both like some water?” They both mutter out a grateful ‘yes’ as she moves to get that for them.

Once they’ve drained their glasses, she flips her chair around to face them better, sitting with a small smile gracing her lips.

“So, is it confidential? The building that whipped Captain America and Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes asses? Maybe code named reckless?”

“I see you’ve talked to Tony, doll.”

“I think I’m entitled to a little ribbing.” Both men look confused for a few minutes. “Do you not know the date? It’s almost February.” Steve knows his mouth has dropped open momentarily at this news. He honestly hadn’t thought it had been that long they’d been on mission.

“Hard to keep track of the date when you’re constantly ankle deep in mud,” Bucky grunts out, shifting in the bed.

He watches you straighten up minutely, lips thinning ever so slightly into a line before forcing a soft smile. Oh, doll.

“I’m sorry. That was selfish of me.” Bucky flicks a look at him for help, upset that he had upset you - even unintentionally.

“We aren’t upset at you, doll. We just didn’t think it had been that long.”

“Completely unintentional, beautiful, I swear.” Bucky’s words nearly overlap his own, both sets of blue eyes switching to puppy mode.

Her phone trills in her pocket, all of them falling silent. She pulls the device from her pocket and unlocks it, quickly typing out an answer before clicking it closed and standing.

“I’m sorry - I need to get some paperwork sent off. Do you need anything before I go?”

A light bulb goes on in Steve’s mind as Bucky gives a barely there shake of his head.

“Just kiss me good and don’t be upset at our grumpy old man words.” A smile, a real smile, breaks out on her face, lighting it up again.

“I can do that, handsome.” She leans in, bracing her hands on the bed before pausing just a breath away. “Only if you forgive me. I tend to be pretty sensitive.”

“Nothin’ to forgive.” He mutters before their lips meet, his hand coming up to rest on the back of her neck, not too eager to have her move away too soon. “I’ll be all healed up before tomorrow night…” He pecks at her lips after he trailed off, repeating the motion again with a smile.

“How about we have a pre-date dinner tonight? I’ll bring some food, Bucky can third-wheel it and tell me some good stories he’s got on you.”

“Chinese?” Bucky pipes up hopefully, Y/N turning to look at him before Steve tightens his fingers ever so slightly on her neck to keep her lips in close proximity to his.

“Sure.” She presses her lips firmly against his before pulling back. “I gotta go review, scan in and then mail those papers. I’ll be back in a bit.” She makes her way to the door before turning and looking as stern as she could manage with a big smile. “Listen to the doctors, please. No hobbling around on your fractures if they aren’t healed - okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” They both chime out together.

“Thank you!” She gives a little wave as she leaves, prompting Steve to look over at his best friend.

“No telling her about that time at the beach. You know the one.”

“But, Stevie, I was gonna lead with that story...” Bucky is sporting a shit-eating grin as Steve settles back against his pillow, closing his eyes with a smile. “Hey, Steve?” He hums in acknowledgment. “You know that means that Valentine’s Day is just a couple weeks away now.”

“Not. Helping. Bucky.”

Tagging: @sgtjbuccky @unleashthemidnight @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @clockworkmorningglory @ourloveisforthelovely @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmyymind

[almostviki]

pursed

mmmmmm hello ya’ll. shit’s been wild. um this is 1-2 days late for this exchange (let’s see if this goes up after midnight or not) so I’m incredibly sorry to @swlotakulady34 34 on tumblr for the delay! anyway this is a shortened version of the original concept because i could not get the ending to work out the way i wanted it to so i just cut out the whole thing lmao. the editing’s a bit jank and i swear i’ll fix it later and also probably addd a sequel bc this is mad unfinished and weirdly enough, i feel like this doesn’t even actually answer ur prompt that well because i’m so bad at writing fluff but anyway here’s ur hurt/comfort fic i hope you like it and that everyone else does too!

Title: pursed

Genre: Angst (I really tried to make it fluffy but it wasn’t working out)

Word count: 3,184

Summary: The situation is this: Logan and Patton have been dating for two years and three months when they meet Virgil and Roman. Six months later, Patton asks Logan permission to date them, and Logan reluctantly agrees. Two months after that, the nightmares start again.

Or: Logan is insecure and bad at communicating his needs. 

Ao3 Link!

   Patton shoved his wallet and phone in his back pocket and bustled around the kitchen, searching for his keys.

   "I don't know if I'm going to stay the night," he said. "I'll text you later if it looks like I'm staying."

   "Alright." Logan was stirring soup in a pot, eyes fixed determinedly on the individual bubbles rising and popping, the surface of the water rising and falling as steam expanded, and tried to suppress the feeling of his own hot gas rising in his chest. This wasn't Patton's first time visiting Roman and Virgil's apartment. He went there with enough frequency that he had a small stash of his own clothes at their place, a fact which unsettled Logan in a way he didn't want to analyze. 

   "If I stay, I'll be back tomorrow morning, so we can go to lunch before your calculus class because isn't your test tomorrow?"

   "Yes. It's at eleven."

   "I'll be back by ten, then." Patton stopped rushing around in time to shoot Logan a reassuring smile. "You'll do great though. I know you will."

   Logan knew, too. If there was one class he wasn't worried about failing, it was mathematics. He returned Patton's smile with one of his own and turned off the heat on the pot.  

   "Don't worry if you're late," he said, taking in deep breaths to disguise the unsureness of the words. "I'll understand if you'd spend the morning with them."

   "No, I'll be on time. You're still important to me, Logan. I said we're having lunch together and we are." Patton sighed, running his hands through his hair.  "I don't get the feeling that you're comfortable with this. Do you need me here tonight? Maybe I shouldn't go."

   Logan was either very good at controlling his facial features or he had grown too tired to emote regardless, because he didn't think any of the truth of Patton's words showed on his face.  

   "You didn't manipulate my actions, Patton. I want you to go on this date because it would make you happy. As your boyfriend, it's part of my job to support you."

   "But I don't want you to think I'm not putting you first. I'm going to call them and cancel."

   Logan grabbed Patton's wrist before he could reach behind him to get his phone. "No, you won't. I'm not an egocentric child. I can handle having my boyfriend go on dates and I can handle spending the night alone. Don't alter your plans because of me."

   "Logan, I just-" Patton stopped mid-sentence, searching Logan's eyes for answers. "Are you sure you're okay?"

   "We're okay," Logan said, and if Patton noticed he didn't answer the question he didn't get the opportunity to pry. Logan turned Patton by the shoulders and pushed him in the direction of the door. "Enjoy yourself. Tell Virgil I said hello."

   "What about Roman?"

   "I have nothing to say to him."

   Patton cracked a smile and kissed Logan gently on the cheek. "Be nice. I love you. See you in the morning." He picked up his backpack from the door and was gone.

   Logan waited fifteen minutes for Patton to forget something and burst back into the apartment before releasing the breath he'd been holding. He wanted so badly to throw his mixing spoon across the room, to dump out the pot on the stove onto the tiled kitchen floor and let the broth spread over the kitchen like a violently expanding oil slick, to turn the burner back on and place his hands directly on top and wait until his skin was charred and his hands and head were finally numb to pain.  Logan hadn't been lying; he wanted Patton to go on dates with other people. He wanted Patton to be happy. He just hadn't known making Patton happy would hurt so bad, feel so isolating. The apartment had never felt emptier. There were still bubbles popping on the surface of the broth, but it felt colder than it had just moments ago. If he tasted it, Logan was sure it would be bland.  

   Dimly, Logan wondered what Patton was eating for dinner. Probably something sweet with Virgil's fingerprints on it. It made Logan want to throw up.

Logan and Patton met in freshman year, when both of their respective roommates dropped out and they were forced to room together second semester. Logan's previous roommate tended to keep to himself, and they mostly only exchanged greetings when coming or going. Patton was decidedly the opposite of that. He was a dance major, and somehow his four-hour practices never depleted his boundless supply of energy. Logan sometimes thought Patton managed to put extra hours into his day, because he was in a borderline excessive amount of clubs and weekend expos but still managed to keep up with his schoolwork and find time to laze around the dorm doing nothing. He was also too nice. He would go out for food and bring Logan something as well and then not let Logan pay him back.  

   "I just noticed you haven't left the room except to go to class," he said, holding out the bag. "Gotta keep your energy up if you want all that studying to mean anything."

   Logan bit back a question about how he could possibly know that when Patton himself had hardly set foot in their dorm since sunrise, but he accepted the food graciously and ate it all, just to please him. He pretends he doesn't notice how their fingers brush in the handoff, or how bright Patton's eyes look when Logan takes anything he gives him.

   Three weeks before the end of term, after a dozen more food runs and late nights, Patton set down Logan's coffee with a smile and turned to head to practice.

   "Hey, Patton," Logan said, unable to contain it anymore.  

   "Yeah?" Patton said, stopping midstep.

   "You know you don't have to buy me coffee, right? The coffee shop is down the street, and we also have a coffeemaker in our dorm, so it's a waste of money."

   "Yes, but the coffeemaker doesn't make it the way you like it," Patton pointed out. "So I take the liberty of getting you something you want."

   "But I never asked you to do that."

   "I want to," Patton said, uncharacteristically tired. "Don't you get it Logan? I want to do things for you."

   Logan didn't know how to handle to excessive emotion in Patton's voice, so he just swallowed and nodded, and Patton breathed out heavily and went to practice.  

   Four days later, Logan set a banana smoothie hesitantly on Patton's desk when he returned from his morning calculus class.

   "If we are expressing affection through the exchange of food," Logan said, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. "Then I would like to, um, reciprocate."

   Patton blinked up at him, but then his smile stretched so wide Logan worried he'd be blinded.  

   "Thank you, Logan," Patton said. He picked up the smoothie and took a sip.  

   They were good for two years before it all came crashing down.  

   "We need to talk," Patton said one day as they were eating dinner on the couch. He'd made spaghetti, which he only does on days he wants to eat with chopsticks, despite Logan telling him numerous times that these are "not that kind of noodle". Logan froze, then set his pasta down and turned to Patton.

   "Is something bothering you?"

   The look on Patton's face was one of apprehension, and even though Logan has seen Patton nervous over the smallest of things, this fear sits deeper in Logan's gut because it's him Patton is scared of. Logan feels dirty and guilty in equal measure.  

   "I have a crush on Virgil and Roman," Patton finally said

   Logan looked at him for a minute, processing the words over and over and still not able to find the correct meaning.  

   "What?"

   "I have for a while now." Patton didn't look at him; his eyes flit across his food, the TV remote, the door, anywhere but Logan's face. "I thought it would go away but...it didn't." He must've caught Logan's rapidly closing expression in the corner of his eye because he was quick to reassure. "I didn't act on it. I wouldn't do that to you. But I can't hide it anymore so...I just wanted you to know."    

   Logan blinked, feeling as if the piece of his brain that's supposed to tell him how to react to this has atrophied in his skull. "Are you polyamorous?"

   Patton shifted uncomfortably. "Can't say I've put a lot of thought into it. I've only been panicking about this for a week or two."

   "What were...what do you want to do about it?"

   Patton's hands dug into his sweater. "I won't do anything about it if you don't want me to."

   What a cop-out.

   Logan had met Roman and Virgil. He didn't dislike them, but he also didn't know them that well. They were Patton's friends, not his. Now he wished he'd gone out more with them, that he'd accepted Patton's invitations to see movies and get pizza, because maybe then he wouldn't have such a twisted, dark-faced image of both of them. His entire being trembled with a foreign and ugly emotion. Patton, for his part, didn't react. He waited, still and silent, for Logan to push back down his frightening emotions and take a deep breath.

   "Thank you for your honesty," he said, "but I need time." His voice sounded painfully formal with how tight it was but if he let a single shred of feeling into his voice he would self-destruct.

   "Of course," Patton said, nodding quickly. "Whatever you need." And it occurred to Logan that Patton thought he'd be angry, thought they might break up over this, but the thought of breaking up with Patton, of living without him, is too bizarre to even consider.  

   "I'm not upset," he said softly. "But this is a lot to process."

   "I understand." Patton matched his volume and tone. He always was a good energy-matcher, great at reading moods and adjusting his own behavior to complement Logan's. Not that this skill comes into play often; Logan made it a habit to always remain as neutral as possible.

   "I love you," Logan tried, and the soft smile Patton gave him evaporates some weight from his chest.  

   "I love you, too."

   And just like that, the decision was already made.

   Roman was loud and brash and stuck too stubbornly to unfounded opinions.  In the beginning it grated on Logan's nerves like nothing else. Logan tried to at least be cordial, to not make this harder than it had to be, but he didn't exactly know what the protocol is for interacting with the people your boyfriend is dating. Roman is taller and louder than Logan and has more arrogance in his pinkie finger than Logan has encountered in the sum total of his life. Patton was enamored by him. Roman's boyfriend, however, was a polar opposite. He was slightly shorter and ganglier than Roman, sometimes looking as if he was swimming in his hoodies and sweaters. He trailed behind Roman quietly most times, but when he had something to say, all he has to do is touch Roman's arm and he'd fall silent, giving Virgil his full attention. Their dynamic is tight, solid like the floors under Logan's feet or the walls around him, and just watching them together, feeding off each other in a perfect loop, made Logan feel immensely off-balance.  

   Logan's phone dinged with a text message from Patton, telling Logan he made it to Virgil and Roman's apartment safely. All the energy in Logan's body went towards sending an affirmative response. He dished out the soup he made for dinner and sat on the couch, letting the hot bowl warm his numb hands. He didn't want to eat, or study, or do anything. Most distinctly, he wanted to not feel like he's being abandoned for no good reason at all.  

   It was only six-thirty but he put his bowl in the fridge and went to bed.

   At midnight, he woke up with a scream on the edge of his lips, sheets damp with sweat. He wasn't crying or shaking or digging his nails into his skin, so it could be worse, all things considered. He can still hear the taunts in the corner of his mind, see the disappointed frown burned into his retinas. Patton's voice echoed in his ears, a mockery of his true tone, yet the words are incisions in Logan's skin, whispers of clingy, indecisive, possessive. It might've been five minutes before he found the strength to get up. It might've been an hour. Logan's grasp on time tends to get a little shaky at times like this.

   As quietly as he can, he stripped from his sweat-soaked clothes and showered, trying not to scrape his skin raw with the stress of his fingernails. and even though the water is scalding he still has gooseflesh on his arms. He didn't cry though. Patton has some kind of sixth sense for when Logan is crying and Logan definitely doesn't want Patton to find him now, definitely doesn't want Patton to ask him what's wrong with those honest eyes of his that make Logan feel guilty for having secrets. So he doesn't cry. He doesn't go back to sleep either. Instead, he walked to their small bookcase and took everything off of it and reorganized it. Up until that point, it was organized by color, but seeing the blocks of red and purple made him sick to his stomach. In the morning Patton would see it, and he'd know that Logan didn't get any sleep, but at right then Logan's biggest concern was quelling the stress building in his chest. He put them in alphabetical order, the correct order, he convinced himself, but then doubted himself and sorted them by date of publication. By the time the sun has risen, his hands had stopped shaking and his heart wasn't beating out of his chest anymore, but he felt as if he'd been awake for much longer than one night.

   He's no stranger to nightmares. He used to get night terrors all the time as a kid. He'd wake up screaming and crying, with no air in his lungs and fire crawling up his skin. He hardly remembered the dreams then but he remembered the unadulterated panic that followed, and his mother would grab him in her arms and soothe him softly until he wasn't shaking and his heart wasn't beating out of his chest.

   Over time the night terrors lessened into ordinary nightmares, which meant he didn't wake up screaming like he was dying, but on the downside, he remembered these dreams. Formless, plotless, sometimes just swatches of color on a blank background mixing and crashing themselves into a crime scene. When he was nine he woke up and vomited on the floor of his bedroom, hair practically standing on end. That was when his mother's patience ran out.

   "Clean up your mess," she said without emotion. "You really should get a handle on this, Logan. Whatever is troubling you, fix it."

   So Logan cleaned up his own vomit and threw his clothes in the wash and sat on his bed, afraid of going to sleep for fear of waking up again worse than before. He dragged himself out of bed and padded to the living room, where his parents kept a giant bookshelf that was mostly decorative, but the books on it were definitely real. He picked out a random book on sociology and started reading, even though he didn't understand over half of the words in it. As long as he was avoiding sleep, he might as well do something useful with his time.

   Nothing helped. Not village remedies of teas and meditation, not medicines, not simply staying awake until he thought he was too tired to dream. His psychiatrist told him at age thirteen that he was internalizing too many of his feelings and they were now manifesting in a negative light. Logan didn't see how that could be possible. How could he be internalizing feelings when his mother always said he didn't have any?

   Now in his dreams, his mother's pursed lips were replaced by Patton's narrowed eyes, her silent judgment overshadowed by Roman's biting tone and Virgil standing with his hood up, face hidden to shadows. Instead of birthdays, he fears disappointing math tests and home-cooked meals with no one at the table with him. The only thing that stays constant is a door that slams over and over again, a thousand times in his lifetime, and absence of countless figures followed by Patton walking out the door, leaving him and his smoothies behind, telling Logan that he'd always liked the other two better anyway.  

   His fingers itch to call Patton. Logan throws the phone across the room. He's not going to call Patton because Patton is staying the night at Virgil and Roman's apartment and Logan doesn't want to ruin that, and anyway if he calls Patton he'll probably wake up the others and then they'll be asking after him, their fake worry indiscernible to the naked eye from their truthful concern. If he calls Patton he'll be admitting that he's weak, that he can't handle himself, that even though he's twenty years old he still has night terrors that leave him too scared to move or think and then Patton will leave him because he's been wasting his time.

   Even worse: Patton won't be mad. He'll come home and wrap Logan up like his mom used to do before things went bad. Logan will tell him what he's scared of and Patton will reassure him that he's making things up, that he doesn't love Logan any less now that he's also dating two other people, And then Logan will cry, not because he's relieved but because he's nervous and biding his time for the escape. Because it took two years for him to realize how fragile everything is around him.

   He won't call Patton because whether his boyfriend picks up the phone or not shouldn't wreck him the way it will either way.

   Patton makes it home by 9:30 and finds Logan on the couch.

   "You look tired," he said, immediately concerned. "Did you even sleep?"

   "I've been up a while revising," Logan says, and Patton's lips form a thin line. They look just like they do in Logan's dreams.

   "Okay," Patton says, unconvinced. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?

   "Of course," Logan says, and crossed out another equation on his notes. "But I assure you I"m in perfect condition. How were Roman and Virgil?"

   Patton's eyes light up as he begins to talk, and Logan thinks of boiling soup, closes his eyes, and holds his tongue between his teeth with all the control he can muster.

[liliberniwrites]

The Fairy Tale at the Frat

Sher pushed aside the crumpled linen and sat atop the bare spring top mattress of the unmade bed, looking out the window and half expecting to find someone. She silently envisioned the apparition of a someone strong and heroic, of an anything reminiscent of a prince charming that could pull her away from this beast. She looked deeper still, but saw only the abyss of tree tops below and the blinking light of an aircraft dotting its path across the sky. She turned her gaze onto the red solo cup in her hand, swirled the mirky tan liquid, watering down the concoction as the ice melted. She patted the tawny skirt against her thighs and brushed aside the curly black fly aways against her temple. Rubbing her lips together and sensing the stiffness of their slide, she realized a reapplication of lipgloss was needed.

“You’re making him happy,” she assured herself out loud as she smeared more of the coral color on. “It’s not the way you thought tonight would go, but this is good. This is fine.”

Just then, the room before her shook, again, and again, loosening her grip on the lipgloss, sending it on a trajectory up the side of her cheek. It was the rumble of the beast’s approach. It came to a sudden halt, and his shadow became stagnant against the crack between the baseboard and the floor. A flip in her lower abdomen sent a pulsating feel of unease up through her chest and she swallowed the almost imminent sour taste of sick that tried to come out. She steadied herself against the backboard and strained to maintain her self and her nerves with a firm grip upon the night stand.

“Look at you gettin’ all comfortable in casa de William Wolf.” The beast spoke in an unnaturally cool and familiar way. At nearly seven feet tall, the beast bent at the waist and slightly at one side to enter his bedroom. Once erect again, Sher saw the absurd way he tugged at his purple and gold jersey, trying to hide the abundance of thick and greasy matted fur that emerged passed every part of him that was not clothed.  

“Yeah I like your room a lot, Billy. You have so many trophies.” Sher’s voice took on qualities not of her own. The inflection more sing-songy, and the pitch at least one octave higher than what is natural. She tried to wipe the excess lipgloss from her face.

“If you think I’m the shit now, I wish you’d known me in high school. It’s different now we’re in college. It’s like, everyone thinks they’re the shit, you know? But like, they have no idea how not shit they are, but they’re really just shit, you know what I mean?”

“Totally.” Sher wasn’t sure how else to follow up her illuminating response, so she just took another sip from her cup.

“That reminds me! Wanna see me shotgun this tall boy? Franky Fox taught me how earlier.” Hearing Billy say the name Franky lifted Sher with a new glow she’d not yet had while in this room. Her sudden revitalization came simply by being reminded he was downstairs, here in the same place she was. Just then, Billy took the PBR beer can that was dwarfed in his swollen paws, and drew it up to his hyper elongated lower canines that jutted out over his lips to the tip of his nose. Upon impact, a crack pierced the can, sending a rushing mess of foamy liquid in every direction, splashing the piss and yeast smell all over Sher’s navy blue sweater.

“Come on, Billy! I just got this!” Sher had been daydreaming of Franky and was sufficiently distracted before this unwelcome interruption. She wiped herself with a sock that was lying next to her on the bed, pat drying her bare chest. The wet trickled down and saturated her front, the sheer lace bra of crimson red she was wearing now slightly exposed. The beast had become transfixed by this sight, dropping the beer can which clanked across the hardwood floor. He inhaled deeply looking down over his snout at Sher, his breath now quick and staggered, his massive chest rising and falling. A snort escaped, and with a low gravelly voice he uttered, “Did you wear that for me?”

His focus unchanged and his breath faster still, the beast sauntered closer into Sher, positioning himself in between her legs. Sher looked up into the eyes of the beast, a dull unmitigated paralysis of a gaze, the yellow of them widened and their thin black slits unwavering. Sher tried to speak, her mouth slightly parted, waiting for anything to rise up through the caverns of her throat. Nothing. Not even a whimper that could have expressed some kind of hesitation to stop the inevitable from happening. The stillness was abruptly shattered by his pounce, the weight of the beast and the guttural roars escaping his foul hot lips overwhelmed her. He clawed her skirt down her waist, Sher’s now cool and exposed body trembling uncontrollably, but the heat of shame rising steadily in her cheeks. He shredded his pants off with one swift motion, the scent of piss and yeast reminiscent again to Sher.

“Calm down. Franky wants this,” Sher thought as she turned to rest her cheek against the slight scratch of the bunched-up comforter. A contradictory thought of this is not good and you do not need to do this crossed her mind as Billy forced himself inside her. But she pressed her eyes tighter shut, furrowing her brows as she envisioned Franky and the approval she would earn from him. A calming satisfaction eased her tension with this thought, and her eyes relaxed to slightly part open, allowing a single warm tear to trail down the side of her face. She focused her attention on the pale colored floral design embroidered into the mattress top as she was jolted forward and back in a rhythmic motion. A sharp but hushed puff of air escaped her lips as she had the absurd realization that she and Billy owned the same mattress.

***

Earlier that morning, Sher awoke in her own bedroom, looking through bleary sleep crusted eyes at the pale floral design atop her own mattress. The day began with such promise and excitement; tonight would be Sher’s first real college party, one that Franky Fox would also attend. A list of beauty accoutrements was pinned to her whiteboard, and upon completing her morning rituals, Sher made haste to the mall with a spinach and pineapple breakfast smoothie in hand.

Foundation for her ivory and blemish free skin was the first purchase she’d intended, but not without an expected obtrusion from the mall’s indwelling pot head, Cadence Caterpillar. She thought she’d dodged his advances, but his plump and swollen elongated frame slinked around a corner as if he’d been waiting for her. Emerging from the dark that framed the otherwise brightly lit make up store, he seemed to manifest through billowing gray smoke. He had a rounded electric blue face adorned with forest green puss filled pimples, pulsating with each heavy breath he took. Atop the sides of his forehead were unnervingly long tentacles that curled at their ends, wafting slightly with each brisk step he took towards her.

“Whyyyy are yooooou here?” Cadence’s prolonged you pushed a cloud of smoke into and around her face.

“Not now, Cadence. Please.” Sher waved the smoke away and tried to push passed him, knowing too well she was at his mercy with the four simple words that dripped out of his mouth next: You want some weed? She did. The thought of going to the party that night not only filled her with hope, but also with impending doom. Sher’s only motive for going to the party was for a chance encounter with Franky, but feared her own proclivities would turn the night into something worse. However, the last time she got high, it was as if she was a different person, a person who was capable of saying a cool and casual Hey to a guy like Franky without hesitation. That’s the person she needed to be tonight.

There was an obligatory smoke out in the back of Cadence’s Hyundai Accent. It was a power dynamic Sher had grown accustomed to succumbing to. Cadence passed the expertly rolled joint to Sher after burning its end into a charred glowing cherry.

“Don’t smoke that blunt to the head. I know how stupid yooooou get.” It was an unfortunate understatement as Sher believed herself the epitome of cool whenever she was high, but others would say she was exhausting and insufferable. The belief that she was somehow a better version of herself when she was like this stemmed from an interaction she recently had with Franky. Her memory being that it was charm and wit that had entertained him, but reality being that Franky couldn’t stop laughing at how much food she kept eating.

“Whatever. I can handle my shit.” She sucked hard at the joint, a slight spattering of crackles from the paper as it burned. She let the smoke inside her swell for a beat. Two beats. Three. Then—Kaff! Kaff! The smoke rushed out of her pinched and mottled face.

“Gahd dahm, Sher. Yooooou actually are crazy,” Cadence said with bemusement. After about another half hour of forced laughs and exhaustive deterring of Cadence’s arms and legs up her arm and thigh (and it truly was an exhausting effort, she never could tell just how many arms and legs that guy had), Sher finally made her way back to the mall, this time with a sandwich baggy of sour diesel in tow.

She meandered through the dimly lit halls of the parking structure, her head now swollen with the feeling of weed penetrating her vessels. It seemed to lift her up, but she saw as she passed a reflection of herself that her eyelids hung low, and the unobscured parts of her eyes had been dipped in the devil’s favorite color. The need she earlier had for beauty products was replaced with finding whatever fried food was wafting in the air at that moment. Was it a churro? Or mozzarella sticks? Or a batch of frozen french fries emerging from a bubbling oil bath with shimmering, crispy golden skin?

Success for Sher as her meandering led her upon the food court, and was now in possession of a basket of fried…well, she wasn’t quite sure which of the aforementioned phallic finger foods she ended up with. She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin, pushing the now empty basket away from her, and noticed in her periphery a flickering orange glow from the televisions mounted on the walls. The speakers blared the muffled noise of the broadcast, an assuring string of phrases that elicited immediate reactions from the on screen crowds surrounding the nation’s newest incumbent. Phrases like We’re going to make a lot of, and We’re going to take care of, and The incredible men and women of, and the most damning of all, Believe me.

“This guy is a fucking Cheeto turd, right? A sexual predator. Our president. Awesome.” The words escaped her in a low drawn out way, and they were intended for no one as she stared vacantly with unflinching eyes at the screens above her. She shifted her gaze, her sunken eyelids rising with each passing look to the left, and to the right. She would have liked her words to have been received by someone, but her brown leather purse was the only thing occupying space on the empty tables surrounding her. The closest person in view was a mother distracted by her fussing child, no where near earshot to receive Sher’s poignant criticisms, but would have likely ignored them had she heard them. She had a sudden biting realization. She was alone. A short wave of paranoia pulsed through her. She gathered up her trash, flung her purse over her shoulder, and left the food court to find the beauty products she originally came here for.

She found the ivory cream foundation and a tube of coral tinted lipgloss, and proceeded for the check out line. She felt rolls of the high linger still, a sudden rush of chills traversing from the small of her back and up the length of her spine as she approached the counter. A smile stretched her cheeks as she imagined the compliments she might earn from Franky after seeing her done up with the new make-up. The clerk before her was of green warted skin, shining slightly from the slime that was seeping from his pores. He had a wide face with bulging tan eyes on either side, the eyes split by a thick black pupil that was protected by a thin layer of mucosal membrane. Adorning the ends of his pressed black button up dress shirt were silver lily pad cufflinks, exaggerating his delicate, thinly webbed three fingered hands. The polished oval name tag pinned neatly upon his chest read, Finn Frog.

He looked down his distinct rounded snout, indignantly croaked a rehearsed greeting, but once he actually looked at Sher, the smallest hint of irritation lit up his eyes.

“Oh, it’s you. Woman, weren’t you just in here last week?” He had a prude and stiff demeanor with each flick of the product against the scanner, possibly even a hint of an eye roll as he examined the coral colored gloss she picked out.

“Hey…how’s it going Finn? You know how it is. Gotta keep up shop! The shop…being…my body. Heh heh.” The chills that had traveled up and through her were violently sucked in when she noticed Finn’s pursed lips and inquisitively cocked eyebrow.

“Mmm girl the way you spend it’s like you trying to keep up a whole damn palace.” A

sudden, miserable sense of insecurity defined Sher’s now sunken and clammy state of existence, her palms now moist and her throat now dry. “I mean betch please. You still not fienin’ over that Franky Fox guy, right? Is he cute? Yeah. I’d hit it. But that boy is playin’ you.”

“What? Franky? No he’s sweet. You don’t know him like I do.” Sher’s response ended without conviction and trailed off almost inaudibly.

“Oh! So he’s the one fuckboy god created and said, ‘Nah! I’mma give this one a heart of gold.’ Girl please!” Finn waved his wrist with a violent shake and snapped his webbed fingers in the air, then flatly announced Sher’s total. This prompted her to rummage the contents of her purse, which distracted her from adequately defending Franky, but the need for absolution was brewing inside of her. She handed the cash to Finn, prompting a new bothered question from him. Too distracted by the panic of what the question might be, and too frenzied to acknowledge the question in her head Are you paranoid because you’re high?, Sher began her wild plea for exoneration.

“I know it’s stupid to some people. I know! I spend a lot of money to feel good in front of boys. Yeah, maybe I need to feel better about myself in front of Franky. So what! It helps me, man. Everyone knows they’re inadequate or incompetent in some kind of way, right? It’s like everyone’s got that thought they can’t shake. ‘You’ve done too many things wrong, kid. So either knock it off, or make it work!’”

“Everyone’s got an outlet for that kind of insecurity! I know I’m not the only one. Some drink. Some collect beanie babies. Some gotta drown kittens. At least my release is in the form of a plastic tube full of multi colored goops that mostly don’t offend the people around me. So shit man! Don’t try to put me into your neat little box of stereotypes!” The pinks of her nail beds became a yellowish white as she gripped harder onto the sales counter to steady her shaking fervor.

“Cuz let me tell you this, I at least know this much: I suck just as much as everyone else does! I’m just trying to feel like I suck less, just like everyone else is! I know we’re all just hanging on to the things that make us feel right. And this! This little tube of goop gets the god damn job done!”  

Sher drew a sharp breath in through her nose and released forcibly through her mouth with a sort of finality and accomplishment that made her feel proud.

“Girl hush. You know I just gotta ask if you want to apply for the store credit card, but I’mma guess it’s a no again, or…?”

“Oh. Yeah no. Not today thanks.” Sher felt immediate regret for her dramatic outburst, but was quick to assign blame to the weed. What had transpired only slightly destroyed her confidence, and the crushing realization that she isn’t as cool as she thought she was when she smoked led her to the conclusion, Maybe I shouldn’t get high at the party. After a slow, methodical drive home, and a long sobering nap, she awoke with a new energy for the night she’d envisioned as one for her and her Franky.

***

She arrived at the party exactly two hours passed its intended start time, knowing this to be proper etiquette if she wanted to appear cool. The three story house was of bright golden white, impressively emanating an ethereal glow even at this dark hour. Its facade was endowed with massive thick pillars of the same golden white, and situated against the brick exterior was the typical vestige of greek letters denoting the fraternity that dwelled within: Iota Omicron Iota. She looked up at the acronym, laughing at how such a decadent house can be tainted by the emblazoned sign which appeared to read: LOL. Still staring up and around as she moved forward, Sher crossed the threshold into her first college party.

A tray of lime green jell-o shots nearly floated passed her, and she managed to grab and suck down two before the man parading the tray over his head got lost in the crowd.

“Good start,” she thought to herself, “gelatinous courage should help.”

She shuffled passed a game of beer pong, and shimmied through a tight hallway in which seventeen different conversations were taking place. She looked beyond the length of the hallway to an opening that had cleared into the kitchen. The kitchen counters held a sea of amber and clear liquor bottles, and a tower of red solo cups were buoyed among the sea in the furthest corner. The cups were stacked in precarious form against a cabinet. She stood tippy toed to grab the cup at the top, but in doing so, toppled the remaining cups to the ground. A couple snickered as they watched the scene unfold. Sher was unsuccessfully trying to stack the cups back into their previous form. Despite a heat growing in her cheeks and a sheen of sweat transpiring on her neck, she kept a level of composure, ultimately deciding to kick aside the last few cups she could not add to the stack.

It was while she was pouring herself a drink she noticed Franky on the opposite side of the kitchen. She immediately zig zagged a path to him, keeping her sights locked as to not lose him. She laughed to herself feeling as though she were on the prowl, and it reminded her of the first time she met Franky. Sher was walking home after the last class had ended when Franky snuck up on her. His sudden appearance prompted her to shout, What the hell! Are you some kind of stalker? To which he had responded, Well if I’m stalking you, I guess that makes you my prey? She remembered making some kind of sexual predator joke after he’d called her his prey, but Franky deterred the joke with a sly cunning that all at once had Sher completely entranced.

The inauspicious night of Sher’s first sexual encounter became congruous with Sher’s first love. She was immediately obsessed, and was determined to recreate the ecstasy she felt that night. With a greater determination after reflecting on one of her favorite memories, she “accidentally” bumped into Franky.

“Aw I’m such a klutz! Jeez, look at me, Ya ever had a beer before?” She mock said this pantomiming a developmental delay, quickly regretting the strategy she had chosen.

“What the shit? …Oh! Sher, hey. Ya ever learned to walk before?” He’d mock pantomimed Sher’s pantomime, and the connection elated her.

“That’s funny! It’s funny because it’s like what I said, but with walking instead of drinking, and it’s like obviously I should know how to walk. So that implies I should obviously know how to drink, right?” She looked up at Franky, his attention to her distracted by the berating stimuli all around them, but he’d managed an affirmative Uh huh at whatever she just said.

As he continued to look up and around, Sher kept her focus up at him. He wore his mustard colored beanie pushed back, two slits created to expose his rusted copper orange and black trimmed ears, his slender pointed snout keeping his Rivers Cuomo spectacles aloft against his small snidely eyes, and bushing out beside his tightly fitted jeans was his vulpine brushy tail. Sher squinted her eyes a moment, a fleeting thought of Franky’s orange appearance reminded her of the orange flickering on the screens in the food court from earlier that day. She literally shook her head to dismiss the disgusting comparison, and instead reminisced on just two months ago. It was the last time she’d been alone with Franky, and the last time she gained his affection in the back seat of his car. The intoxication of what it was to bring him pleasure curled her lips, and she longed for the moment it would be them together again.

She pushed her hair up and chest out as she tried to turn on a sexy persona, but the lustful playfulness was short lived by a sudden and overwhelming feeling of shame. It was always in this way, this juxtaposition of yearning and humiliation when it came to Franky. The favors, that he so indifferently called them, that she was always apt to do if not for a sliver of cognizance from this person she’d grown so addicted to pleasing.

“Listen, can you do me a favor?” He inevitably asked after a few silent sips from their drinks.

And there it was. Of course she’d say yes. She was happy to stand by his side and sip silently from her red solo cup, but she’d agreed to his favor if only to not disappoint him, and obediently found herself among the trophied enclosure of the third floor. In the moments before her inevitable favor for the night, Sher paced the bedroom floor, filled with the same moral conflict she battled with before every favor. She thought intently of how Franky would respond if she said she didn’t want to do it, not this time. She grappled with visions of the best and worst case scenarios. Either Franky would go weak at the knees, unable to contain himself before the sight of such brilliance and confidence, and would whisk Sher away into the sunset for their happily ever after. Or, Franky would immediately reject her with disgust, physically remove her from the party, and order an effective disowning of anyone who ever dared befriend her again.

Sher steeled her nerves as she made her way down stairs to talk to Franky. She knew he couldn’t respond like either of her imagined extremes, and decided to hope for the best. She’d found him and was nearly able to tell him her decision, but stopped suddenly when she heard mention of her name in a conversation he was having with Billy. She hid herself behind a potted plant, anxious to overhear what they were saying.

“Dude. Sher is ridiculous. She sucked me off like a thousand years ago, and the bonkers thing about it is she’d do anything to do it again.”

“Holy shit Franky. Sounds like you hit jack pot.”

“No way man, hit it and quit it. I don’t need that kind of crazy. But what I’m trying to tell ya is she does anything I ask her to do for me. Anything. Are ya picking up what I’m putting down, Billy?”

The realization of what Franky was selling dawned on Billy’s face, and their uproarious high fives ensued shortly after Franky explained the cost is but a trifle for the guaranteed good time.

Sher realized she’d listened to their entire exchange without taking a breath, and felt a  dizzying relief when she finally drew in a deep breath that shuddered as she exhaled it. She excuse me excuse me’d her way through the crowd and back up stairs as quickly as she could, closing Billy’s door behind her. She took out her phone, opening the notes app to a blank page. The cursor on the empty page blinked…blinked…blinked. A few moments passed as the names of all the favors, the favors for Franky, trickled with hesitation back into her memory. Charlie, Doug, Manny, Keith…she stopped, a short pang of humiliation rising inside her. She started again. Nick, Brandon, Gus, Devin. She looked upon the list that begun to form on the brightly lit screen before her. A feeling of sick began to writhe in the walls of Sher’s stomach as she looked upon the physical manifestation of shame she’d created. Was there some kind of masochistic relief she felt by compartmentalizing these favors? Why was she doing this to herself? And as if she felt an instinctual pull to answer her own question, the literal words Franky Fox escaped her lips.

She set her phone on the night stand as she took a seat upon Billy’s unmade bed. She looked out the window as she swirled the mirky tan liquid in her red solo cup, looking deep into the abyss of trees to find a semblance of something strong and heroic, of an anything like a prince charming that could pull her away from these beasts.