#i swear my brain gets smoother with each day...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I had a thought about the welcome home character designs. Is it possible that Wally was made/designed by someone different from the other puppets?

I'm not just talking about the fact he is the only one without a nose (though that is what started me thinking down this line), but everyone else (sans Eddie, but maybe we haven't just been shown) seems to push The boundaries of what a puppet could be: Barnaby and Poppy are Big, Howdy has four arms and four legs, Frank's spinning head, Sally's head needing more than one puppeteer, Julie's hair, heck, Home is a freaking house. Wally compared to this colorful crew seem... Well, I don't want to say plain but he definitely seems to be the vanilla ice cream of the bunch.

oh god YEAH OKAY um my brain's a lil too smooth lately to answer this correctly but there's. oh fuck ok there was a Thing i saw - a theory, im blanking on who was talking about it but it was Top Fucking Tier - about how Wally might be like... not a projection

but a... sort of mirror? an Ideal Self? to the in-canon playfellow creator, Ronald Dorelaine. the theory had a thread (if i remember correctly) of connecting the creator's name to Wally, similarities in sound and meaning and even some of the etymology i think they said...

but that could explain why Wally is a little... different. more... pure? im missing the right word rn but idk, his design is Graceful and Composed in comparison to the others. he Is indeed simpler, but in an "ideal" way. he's very appealing and non-cluttered to look at. he resembles a human, while not being too human-resembling like Eddie.

#so it probably wasnt a Different Person so much as it was a Different Approach #good good good ask this was Delicious to chew on #even if i cant cobble enough memories / coherency together to answer it the way i want to!!! #i swear my brain gets smoother with each day... #ALSO NOT THAT THE OTHER NEIGHBORS ARE CLUTTERED #all of their designs are top fucking tier!!! just yeah wally in comparison Is vanilla in a 'sight for sore-eyes' way #he looks so soothing and approachable yk yk #it also does help him stand out in his own way! #he's the smallest and 'plainest' and so sort of draws one's gaze #rambles from the bog #welcome home speculation #oh yeah and if someone knows the posts im Referencing please please tell me #i cant find them and i cant remember

[pseudofaux]

I'm partially embarrassed to request this hence the anonymity but I couldn't pass up asking for Ikevamp Charles abs body worship? Either or him doing the action to or reader to him. Actually reader granting Charles some sexy under table worship while seated at dinner sounds hot. Faust and Vlad get so much love he gets left behind I feel like. If you don't know his characterization well it's ok. I'll probably write something hot myself when my sexy imagination kicks in. Which oh boy I think it has. Love ya lots Pseu! You're writing is impeccable as always. :)

Ohhhhhhh, this is a really good idea and I think you are right on all counts! Originally I was going to have him seated with someone and open this with the other person (Faust?) asking “Where is she?” (🥵), but I think Mssr. Sanson could reeeeally benefit from some words during worship, so this is just the two of them. Please enjoy! And I hope when you write what you are inspired to that it makes you really happy. Or that it already did!❣️

(Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

The castle’s dining chairs are upholstered with silk, because... well, what else would be in Vlad’s beautiful home? That silk is fitted over very fine, full stuffing, and the arms are carved wood, dark and polished. The waxy scent of the polish gets in Charles-Henri’s nostrils in this place. He doesn’t mind it, but he is surprised how unavoidable it can be, even over her perfume. Even over what she is doing to him.

Which is, carefully and reverently, making him insane.

Her pretty skirt is spread out over her knees and the floor like a tent, the circle of it impeded only by the legs of his chair. And her mouth is on him and murmuring endless love. Her words might be silly if anyone were to write them down, but it’s like she took them right out of the darkest, loneliest places of his brain, and she doesn’t trip over them, so he is under her spell and her lips, and he does not want to get away.

“You’re delicious,” she says, so sweetly he laughs.

“You can’t taste me the way I can taste you,” he reminds her. She just hums like she is at the top of the food chain and fondles his balls like she is on the lowest rung of society. He shivers, not for the first time.

“You are,” she insists, sucking a tiny kiss onto his hip, “Delicious.”

“Whatever you say,” he mumbles, so pleased he is jittery. His soul knows and fears that any moment this attention could be snatched away, and he wants it but he can’t depend on it...

“So smooth,” she whispers, her harmless fingernails scraping down what she can reach of the inside of his legs. She knelt there a few moments ago and opened the front of his trousers like it was nothing, and she has been touching him and mouthing him and speaking to him ever since. Charles doesn’t know why this is happening (Did Vlad order her to do this, as some kind of reward for him?), and he won’t rely on it, but he is enjoying it. The way he bobs beside her cheek is proof enough of that.

Surely she feels it? She is gripping him.

“This part,” she whispers, squeezing him and beginning to tug, release, stroke with a practiced touch, “This is so wonderful. The things you do to me with it. I’m so happy I can do things to you, too.”

His fingers drum on the table like he’s playing a sonata. “You can’t,” he says. It’s weak. He’s weak. “You don’t have the power... to do anything.”

She chuckles from the place in her throat he wants to touch when he comes. And maybe she will let him, since she seems to be pulling all the things he wants out of his head tonight, here in this empty dining room. Even if he couldn’t feel all her kisses-- and he can-- he can hear them.

“It’s perfect. You are perfect, Charles-Henri,” she says. She kisses the tip of him and her lips come away sticky. She gives it right back to him when she mouths all her praises all over again down his length. “Smooth... so handsome... so very strong... delicious.” She breathes in through her nose, tucked down by his groin, and it’s such a deep inhale that it tickles him and makes him feel like she is trying to take him in every way she can. Does the hair above his cock tickle her nose? She doesn’t flinch.

“I like the way you smell,” she says as she sighs out the breath. It’s hot and damp against his already-agitated skin. Dreamily, she adds “But I love the way you feel. Want you in my mouth.”

What can he say to that? He’s not afraid of her, there’s nothing she can even do to him, but what she is doing to him... if she stops, he feels like his mind will break, and not in clean slice but in a terrible rendering with tears and uneven edges. This entire situation is so dangerous, it’s dark and lusty and makes him feel so good he doesn’t feel safe trusting it. But he can play along. He can always play along.

“Take me in your mouth, then,” he says. He wants it to be dry, but his eagerness bleeds out of him like the juice of an overripe squeezed fruit and makes it sound like a challenge, like he’s not just playing along over her head but playing with her. Thankfully, she takes the challenge, her wet mouth opening around him and sliding down like she is determined to play, too.

He puts his head back against the dark, polished wood of the back of the chair and groans at the feel of her on him. Can love exist in a mouth that is not speaking? Can he shove himself into the deepest part of her throat? Has she ever done this before? His mind is all questions and sensation, centered on how she sucks at him as she pulls back.

Her hum is accompanied by a slight sway. It looks like she is dancing, sinuous. Seductive.

Charles slides his hands off the table, smoother than a snake, and puts them in her hair. “Is that all you wanted?” he whispers to her. She shakes her head with a closed-mouth smile. “Then have more,” he hisses, and pulls her close. He doesn’t even touch the seam of her lips because she opens for him so readily, and that thought and her plush tongue make him groan again. He pulls her (and she goes, easily) all the way down, until her body rebels and convulses around him, then he pulls her back. “More?” he asks. “More of that?”

He is not prepared for the way she rasps a needy yes, or for the way his hands have to chase her head as she goes back to her work. When she pulls away her spit clings to him and it is thick with his early seed, a glimmer in the dimness of the room. “I always want more of you,” she promises before she goes right back down. And as she moves her head down his length and pulls off with wet pops and smacks, she keeps talking, keeps saying so many of the things he’s been wanting to hear. Not needing. Only wanting. but he has been wanting.

She swears under her breath, and slurps, and calls him manly. The base of each of her palms finds the front of hips and holds him tight while she moans on him. “I love this,” she tells him. “I love you.”

It shoots through him like a downfall of arrows. He should be cut open but he only shudders and tries to figure out how to urge her on without betraying how badly he wants her to keep going. Shouldn’t she know, isn’t that why she is doing this?

“Wish I could just stay here,” she sighs before taking him wet and deep. She makes some noise that feels like a gargle around him, like his cock is in a mineral spring, and his cum soaks her windpipe and her mouth as she slowly pulls back without a single cough. He would miss it if he did not feel quite so euphoric from all her words. They might be dangerous, but that’s because they were so good.

“Delicious,” she whispers with a wet, white smile. The pink of her tongue is paler under the coat of cream she seems so proud of. He stares, unwilling to blink, as she slowly moves it over her lips. When she is done she hums like she has just had a wonderful meal, though he was the only one at the table with a plate. Even if it was for show.

Her gasp when he hauls her up and throws her onto the pillow of her skirts on the table is really all he needs to live, he thinks. He takes her on the table and keeps his ear right by her mouth and his mouth right by her ear, so he can murmur all the possessive filth she’s risen to his surface like floodwaters. And catch everything she might say, too. Just in case she says anything else as he’s pounding her into the dark polished wood, pushing the scent of wax into her skin.

“You like me,” he chants several times. “Delicious.” Her earlobe has no taste of its own, but it is the most wonderful texture in his delicate bite. Some day soon he’ll give her the holes for several new earrings, he thinks. But for now he’ll fuck into her all the things he’s not going to say, because for now he is just playing along. He can always play along. Or so he tells himself.

#ikevamp charles #ikevamp charles-henri sanson #ikevam charles #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevam fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikevam fanfic #pseu slings #vlad's backup sadists

[casiavium]

I've been editing old stuff instead of writing anything new so I'm going to post some of the parts of my fanfic that I don't hate and work well out of context!!

The crunch of leaves under Link's feet filled the forest, but for once, he wasn't afraid to alert others to his position. They were safe now.

Though it was hard to tell back in the perpetual springtime of Skyloft, time had passed since he fought Demise.

As the months wore on, the surface showed it. The stories of changing leaves and colder breezes that had been passed down for as long as anyone could remember turned out to be true. The world below was filled with brilliant reds and yellows, the air in Faron woods sharper than it had been before.

Link wasn't paying attention to where the path was leading him. He knew the woods well, even if they hadn't made the final move to the surface yet. He wasn't too worried about running into anything dangerous, as it seemed without a leader the bokoblins and moblins had vanished.

Though Faron appeared safe, Link wanted to wander farther. In the middle of their maps was a blank space where a kingdom once stood. He knew ruins laid there, hopefully with the answers to unsolved mysteries regarding gods and demons. Zelda wouldn't let him go alone, but the plans to move meant no one could be spared.

He sighed out loud, stopping in front of a fallen log. He didn't know the area beyond it very well, down a tunnel that looked like it was leading to a canyon. He really should turn back, people would start to worry. Climbing up the log onto the ledge, Link looked back out over the forest.

He wasn't familiar with the area. If he turned around now, he could head straight back the way he came, and be sure to end up at the Sealed Temple. Zelda was waiting for him there, discussing the future of both the surface and Skyloft with Groose. He had said he would be right back, he just needed a minute to get some air. They'd be looking for him soon...

Beyond the tunnel, a faint noise rang through the canyon. Link whipped around, sure he had imagined it. He hadn't heard the soft sound of bells for three months, not since he had left the Master Sword to rest in the past. Wandering farther down the path, Link ignored the instinct to head back.

He had been here before. A long time ago, now. Though the walls of the canyon hid it, Link knew a temple was sitting at the end, surrounded by a grove of trees and wildflowers unlike any others on the surface. The winding path dropped off abruptly in places, fraying rope the only way to cross.

It was dangerous. Alone, if something were to happen to him, he would be trapped. Not expecting to adventure today, he only carried a simple training sword.

At the bend of the path, a shadowy figure flickered at the edge of Link's vision. The chime rang through the canyon again, this time a little louder. When he turned to face the figure head on, the shadow disappeared.

Something was wrong, Link thought, as he felt himself follow the shadow. He had done this before, at the beginning of his quest, with Fi, but this time... the energy that was calling to him felt different. Like it wasn't meant for him. He still followed.

Link almost lost his balance crossing a rope bridge when the shadow appeared at the end. It was small, dark, and still. He couldn't recognize the outline, a vague humanoid, but the chime it sent out sounded so familiar he couldn't ignore it. A soon as he corrected himself, it was gone.

As he followed the path, Link began to worry. He could have been hallucinating the apparition, but more than likely, it was leading him somewhere. A thought crossed his mind that it was guiding him to certain death, luring in a victim with a false sense of security. At the back of his mind, probably the worst thing to have in this situation, was hope.

The similarities to Fi, but darker, different... Link knew it was dangerous to wish for, but he was praying to Hylia the shadow figure was Ghirahim, calling to him as his own sword once had. He knew the spirit was alive, he saw him, Fi told him to find Ghirahim again, but it had been three months. There was no sign of the demon, no idea of where to even start, and Link was close to giving up.

As the shadow appeared in and out of his vision, Link continued down the path leading to Skyview Temple. Soon, he found himself at the front steps, staring up at the building before him.

He really should head back now, get backup or at least a better sword. He had actually turned to leave, but there it was again, the shadowy figure in the corner of his vision. At the entrance to the temple, it flickered, beckoning him inside.

Despite his better judgement, Link followed. There shouldn't have been any bokoblins to deal with, and though his sword was not the best, it would hold up against skulltullas well enough. The temple hadn't changed, and Link was lucky to find every door left unlocked from the last time he had been there.

At the end of the maze of passages, Link once again came to the broken bridge, the room taken over by vines and trees. Across the chasm, the shadow waited in front of the golden door, a dark contrast to the scattered glow of stray mushroom spores.

This was the first time he was able to look at it head on. The figure stood as tall as the keyhole, touching the floor but almost floating as it waited for him. It wasn't solid, a few glowing dots drifting through its body, and as each second passed Link could swear it was getting dimmer.

He couldn't say how much time was spent staring ahead. The figure blinked out of existence once more, and Link finally moved to follow it. The rope before him shook under his weight, and he nearly lost his balance a few times, but he had made it to the other side.

The large door was still unlocked, and open by just a sliver. Drawing his sword, Link pushed through.

Nothing had changed. The empty room stood before him, shattered pieces of pottery from the last fight that took place lining the edges. There was no figure, no demon nor sword waiting for him.

Link lowered his blade. He hadn't expected anything, really, but the confirmation of his fears stung. The sunlight had been very bright outside, the figure must have been a mirage his tired brain kept conjuring. Even so, he felt it would be a good idea to let the others know in case of some sinister new enemy. Placing his sword back in the scabbard, Link turned to leave.

"Did you really just sheathe your sword? Foolish boy."

At the voice, Link spun around with a racing heart. Across the room, where they had first met, Ghirahim was waiting for him.

"Hello, Link."

He looked the same as when Link last saw him. Taller than he was used to, eerily similar to Fi, glowing core exposed. He looked less worn down, but signs of battle were still etched onto his skin, cracks in the gem revealing the glow underneath. His hand held onto the sword, nearly as tall as Link, a reflection of the demon himself.

"It's been a while."

"It has." Link whispered in response, scared to walk closer and break the spell. "What took you so long?"

"Me?" Ghirahim scoffed. "I've been waiting here for you. I thought you'd come back eventually."

Link was confused. Looking back over his shoulder, he had the strange feeling of being watched. "So you weren't the shadow?"

"I don't know what you mean. Does it matter? You're here now."

Still wary, Link turned his attention back to Ghirahim. "I... yes. What... what happens now?"

Ghirahim twisted the sword in his hand. Picking it up, he walked towards Link, offering the blade to him. "That is up to you. I was under the impression you no longer have a sword, correct?"

Link absentmindedly brought his hand up to the training weapon. "Yeah."

"You are a swordsman in need of a blade. I am a blade in need of a master. Surely you see how we can solve these problems?"

Link stared at the black blade in front of him. He had imagined this day for months now, wanting nothing more, but he had never told anyone. Hesitation at taking the weapon clouded his mind. It would be difficult to explain.

"... what exactly does this mean?"

Growing frustrated, Ghirahim snapped, "You've had months to think about it. It's no different than your old spirit, and I promise, if you still worry that I may try to hurt you or your precious spirit maiden, this is the only way you could stop me."

At the mention of Zelda, Link stiffened. She wouldn't react well to this. Yet, Ghirahim had a point. Under his command, Ghirahim wouldn't hurt anyone. Fi had seemed okay with the idea, encouraged him to take it, even. He had been through so much... he deserved this one thing, at least.

"I'll take it."

"Good."

Reaching out for the blade, Link closed his eyes as he grasped the cold hilt. His fingers brushed against Ghirahim's for a moment, before the spirit was gone. Cracking an eye open, Link watched as the sword glowed, red flames lighting the room as it changed before his eyes. Just as when using the sacred flames on the Goddess Sword, the blade transformed under his grip, fitting to his palm and becoming much easier to handle.

The final form was smaller, the edges of the blade smoother. It looked similar to the Master Sword, yet rougher at the edges and still distinctly Ghirahim. Link lifted the newly transformed blade to the light, watching the last of the flames fall away.

Behind him, a hand rested on his waist. This time when Ghirahim leaned over his shoulder, tongue flicking out by his ear, Link did not flinch away. He was pulled against the other's body as that tongue traced his jaw, lips stopping to rest on his neck. Cold against his skin, he could feel them move as Ghirahim whispered,

"It will be a pleasure to serve you, Master."

#I want to delete this fic but the problem is it's the first in a series :/ and while the second one works on its own #I had one person say they'd be sad if I deleted the first so it's still up but it's hanging on by a thread #edited so its less cringey but also I can't read past cht 1 without feeling like crying #ghiralink #what's the point of writing niche fanfic you want if you can't even read it when it's done #this is why when I say I want this fic to exist I mean I want someone else to write it because I want to read it. not write it #I can't read it if I write it!!! it's no fun #skyward sword #link #ghirahim #cherryskywriting

[sunflowersteves]

Hi! Can I please request a Sam x short!civilian!fem!reader oneshot where she works at a cafe. Sam, Steve, & Buck decide to go to the cafe to get themselves + Avengers, coffee. Sam quickly takes a liking to Y/n (& she to him), He of course sweetly (& cheekily) flirts with her. She’s very shy, so he easily makes her really flustered, blushing a lot, shyly smiling, giggling a bit. (omg so I’m shy... this is so me rip 🤧). Sam ends up frequenting that cafe from that day forth, one day asking her out

author’s note || Sam is literally the biggest ray of sunshine. he makes my heart explode with love. I hope you like it! sam is such a cutie 

warnings || lots of fluff, swearing prolly

You sigh as you pull your apron tighter around your back. You look around to see the shop mostly empty as you rested your elbows on the counter. Today really hasn’t been your day. You’ve dropped two coffee’s, had three costumers yell at you, your coworker called you annoying, and you were starting to have a bad headache. You looked over to see your coworker tapping away on her phone and you roll your eyes, what a help she is.

Yeah, today definitely wasn’t your day.

You sat up and wore a fake smile as the door dinged, letting you know that customers were walking in. Three men, who you immediately recognized, waltzed and stopped in front of the counter.

Captain America, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon were all right in front of you. Your eyes widened but you tried to be as calm as possible. A smile slowly reached your face as you noticed Sam’s stare.

“Are you gonna order, bird brain?”

“Bucky, be nice.”

“What, Steve? He’s suddenly not speaking and staring at the woman in front- ow!”

Steve whacked the back of Buck’s head and his hand went to rub it, glaring at Steve.

“What can I get you?”

A giggle escaped your mouth as Sam just continued to stare, his smile turning into a grin at the sound of your voice. Bucky smirked and watched as the two of you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other. He nudged Sam, interrupting his gaze.

“Oh! I, uh, I-I would like, uh, a latte please?” He was a stuttering mess, his hands were sweaty, and he was playing with his fingers. Bucky stifled a laugh, prompting Steve to hit him in the back of the head again, only a tad bit lighter. 

You took the other’s orders and they moved to the side, getting out of the way. You started making their drinks and getting the pastries they wanted. You walked over to grab a croissant and couldn’t help but hear the conversation.

“Damn, Sam, your lady charmin’ is off.” Sam just rolled his eyes at the stupid brunette cheekily smiling at him. He was right though, normally he would be such a charmer. He would give one smile and flirty sentence, making the women hooked. However, this time, you were the one that hooked him.

He had never seen anyone quite as beautiful as you. You were frowning when they walked in, your eyebrows were furrowed you looked miserable. And yet, you were the prettiest person he’s ever seen. Your hair is tied up by the cafe’s policies and your apron was tight around your chest and abdomen. 

You could be the last person he stares at and he’d be perfectly content.

“I don’t know, man, for some reason when I look at her it’s like all thoughts escape.”

“Oh, I can think of a few reasons.”

“Really, Steve? You? Bucky, you’re rubbing off on him.”

You call their names when their order was ready and Sam stalked up to you, charm and all. He opened his mouth to speak and you grin brightly at him, causing him to stutter again.

“Hey! would y-you, uh, I mean, um...thanks.” He quickly darted out of the cafe as fast as he could to not make a bigger mess of himself. Bucky and Steve had bursted out laughing, slowly walking out of the cafe.

You were a little bummed that he darted out of there but you figured this wouldn’t be his last visit.

----

Ever since that day, Sam had been at the cafe every single morning. Slowly but surely, he was getting used to talking to you. He was smoother and stuttered less until you’d shout his name and greet him with a smile. That would always make his knees weak and leave him a flustered mess.

He’s usually make some excuse in the office that he, “couldn’t concentrate with Bucky’s blabbermouth,” so he’d always go to the nearest cafe; which was yours.

Bucky would always. just smirk, knowing his true intentions and yell at him to ask how you were doing. Sam would grumble but he would always leave with a smile on his face.

Today was no different, he sat in his normal seat with a coffee and laptop on the table. He’s been gearing up to ask you out for weeks now but every time you saunted up to him, all flustered like he was, everything was out the window.

He’d just stare at your fiddling fingers, your nervous tapping foot, and your adorable smile. He was a goner, totally whipped. He hasn’t even asked you out yet.

His heart starts beating rapidly as he sees you walk over to him, two pastries in hand. You sit down in front of him and set the pastry down, scooting it over. He quietly thanks you and you nod, taking a deep breath.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“I have something I want to ask you.” He raises an eyebrow, expecting the worst, but nonetheless, you speak. You suddenly got so nervous, your eyes couldn’t meet his one bit. He looked at you concerned but was slowing catching on, were you going to ask him out?

“I-I uh, I was wondering i-if you, um, wanted to go out-”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t even-”

“Yes.” He paused, taking a good look at your adorable nervousness and beautiful face.

“I’d love to go out with the prettiest girl in New York.” You giggled, taking a bite out of the pastry as you cheered in your head. Your co-worker had told you that your crush was requited but you had your doubts. Not anymore.

“Not the whole world?” He almost choked on his muffin as he thought he was in deep shit now. He stared at you wide eyed but then focused on your sly smile and playful eyes dancing around him.

“Wow, you really let me choke on my muffin, didn’t you?” You started laughing as he grinned before throwing a piece of his muffin at you. You gasp and narrow your eyes before taking a piece of your pastry and throwing it at him which ultimately turned into a food fight.

“Are they...having a food fight?” Bucky snatched the binoculars from Steve’s hand and looked inside of it. Through the window, you two had bright smiles and laughter while you threw food at each other.

“Oh, he’s whipped. I like her already.”

~~

Masterlist // Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @kitkatd7 @captainchrisstan @angstysebfan

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #sam x reader #the falcon #the falcon x reader #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #nervous!sam #soft!sam #anthony mackie #anthony mackie x reader

[emiefaunwrites]

Ooo, headcanons for their first date?

Oooooh yesssss. I have to remember that I'm not using my Broken Arrow AU for this (and I has plans for first dates in that yaaaas). So this will be an alternative first date - one that was in my 'rejected ideas' section of my brain!

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy!

***********

• Leon is the one that asks Taka on a date. He's the more experienced out of the two and, despite having never ACTUALLY been on a date with any of his past girlfriends, he's given people enough bullshit advice to figure out what to do when it comes to his own.

• At least, that's what he thought before he fell head over heels for the freaking hall monitor, who's idea of fun isn't to go to the cinema to make out in the back row (which so happens to be the advice he gave all his friends).

• So after he mustered the courage to ask the second boy he's EVER fallen for out in a date, and said boy says yes, he had to scramble for a new idea that would appeal to them both.

• After hours of googling 'first date ideas', 'dates for nerds', 'dates for someone who likes learning', he finally decided on taking Taka to the zoo.

• It's perfect: Taka can learn about animals while Leon can watch him talk. Win-win.

• When the day comes, Leon stresses about what to wear for nearly an hour before remembering who he's going on a date with: the guy who seems to own nothing but school uniforms. So he settles on a simple jeans/t-shirt/jacket combo and heads to the bus stop to wait.

• His jaw nearly dislocates when he spots Taka walking over. He's wearing CASUAL CLOTHES: a plain white t-shirt, a black jacket and skin tight jeans.

• He looks FREAKING HOT and Leon thinks he might have forgotten how breathing works.

• When Taka blushes and tells him that he got clothing advice from Mondo, Leon promises himself that he'll buy the biker soooo many drinks as a thank you.

• The bus ride is awkward to say the least - Taka has no concept of small talk and Leon worries that he'll say something incredibly dumb if he opens his mouth so they travel in silence.

• Thankfully, once they're actually in the zoo, Taka picks the conversation up by telling Leon about each and every animal they come across.

• Leon tries to listen, he really does. But he's so damn distracted by how good Taka looks in those jeans. And when it gets too hot and Taka flings the jacket over his shoulder, Leon swears his biceps will give him a heart attack.

• It isn't until they take a break for ice cream, that Leon FINALLY find his voice to insists he pays for, that the date starts to take off.

• Leon's rambling about something (he doesn't know what - he's just letting his mouth move) when he notices that Taka is trying not to laugh.

• He can't help the pout when he asks what's so funny.

• 'Oh, it's nothing. It's just...'

• Taka doesn't continue. Instead he reaches out and rubs his thumb across Leon's cheek.

• 'You had a bit of ice cream on your face. I hope you don't mind?'

• OH BOY is Leon bright red. How the hell is this boy so dorky normally and yet right now, he's so smooth?! And why is Leon the one that's flustered?!

• That's it, he tells himself. I'm going to take control of this. I'm going to make Taka blush.

• And he succeeds by grabbing hold of Taka's hand non-chalantly whilst he's in the middle of a spiel about penguins. Not only does Taka blush, but he loses his train of thought and starts babbling nonsense.

• 'This is okay, yeah?'

• 'Y-yes. It's wonderful.'

• Thankfully, now that Leon's found his groove again, the date goes much smoother and ends on a high.

• 'I've had fun today. Thank you, Leon.'

• Leon is SO tempted to plant a wet one on Taka's lips as he says goodbye at his door. But once Taka asks him if they can do something again soon with the most pure and innocent look in his eyes, Leon knows that this right here is something special and worth taking slowly.

• 'Yeah, I'd love to.'

• Leon goes to sleep that night with the biggest smile on his face, face flushed at the memory of the happiness in Taka's eyes.

#ishileon #leon kuwata #kiyotaka ishimaru #ishileon headcanons #ishileon (school house rock) #danganronpa #ask request #conicalcrowd

[dakt37]

Anyone in the mood for Steve/Tony secret identity shenanigans with a dash of mutual pining?

Behind the scenes I've been wildly obsessed with this ship since about April, and the other day I wrote something that I'm fond of enough to share. It's not a fic really, more of just a treatment with some dialogue scattered about. 2.4k-ish words, present tense because that's the way my brain works. Inspired by a slew of fics I've been devouring this week, but hopefully not close enough to be ripping anyone off.

//

Okay so, it's one of those versions of the Avengers where nobody* knows that Tony Stark is Iron Man. They know he built the suit and is the Avengers' sugar daddy and resident inventor, but they think Iron Man himself is a separate guy, hired by Mr. Stark to be a bodyguard and pilot for the armor. His identity is Top Secret. Heck, at first everyone thought he was a robot. That cat got out of the bag, but it was true enough to tell everyone that he was just pretending to be a robot to protect his secret and not let enemies know of a potential weakness; i.e., that he's squishy under the armor. Plus, if people knew Iron Man was really a man, they'd try to figure out who he is. And Mr. Stark is very serious about wanting to protect his employees. (*Pepper and Rhodey know, and probably Happy? But no one else.)

Well Steve ends up falling for Iron Man anyway. Even not knowing his real name, his face, or even his true voice because it's always modulated (in an obvious way; it's tinny and robotic, part of the Iron Man branding). He gets him in private one day and confesses, in a very adorable and awkward way. Tony panics because honestly he's fallen for Steve too, but he can't let him know that, at least not now as Iron Man. He doesn't quite reject him the way he should-- that is, he doesn't directly say he's not interested. He knows Steve would be able to see straight through the lie, so instead he just keeps insisting that he "can't" return his feelings.

They go back and forth a bit about possible roadblocks. 

"Is it because I'm a man?" 

"What? No, that doesn't make a difference to me." 

"Is it a trust issue?" 

"Of course not, I trust you with my life." 

"Is it because of your boss?" 

Iron Man hesitates because… well yeah! Technically it IS because of Tony Stark. 

Steve sees the opening and presses on, "Would he… let you go if you revealed your identity to me?" 

Iron Man chuckles, to Steve's consternation, "No, he couldn't do that. It's just… he… it's complicated." 

Steve opens his mouth to continue his inquiries, but Iron Man cuts him off. "I'm sorry, Cap. I really, really am." And he flies away, feeling like a jackass and a coward.

Steve meanwhile just feels determined and suspicious. Iron Man isn't afraid of being fired, but there's clearly something to do with Mr. Stark that's holding him back. Steve decides to pay a visit to the Avengers' benefactor to get some clues.

//

Later, Tony is down in an Avengers lab, brooding about the latest fine mess he's found himself in. This secret identity thing is getting to be a real pain in the ass. And if Cap has been paying attention to Iron Man enough to think he's fallen for the Tin Man, then surely he's been paying attention enough to notice how rarely Iron Man and Tony Stark are in the same room together. The armor has an autopilot mode, but it's not so convincing now that people know that Iron Man is a real guy in a suit and not just a robot. 

So Tony has set himself at the task of improving the autopilot. The AI part isn't actually so hard; he's made some pretty personable AIs before. But JARVIS is just a voice; Iron Man also needs to move. Getting the subtleties of natural movement into the armor is tricky business. He runs analyses on video footage of himself to nail down things like how he shifts his weight while standing around, how he gesticulates while speaking, and how he interacts physically with his teammates on the battlefield (a friendly shoulder pat, a hand up, flying with a passenger, etc.)

The movements of the autopilot are getting smoother, but there's still a little lag to non-battle actions, causing the beginnings of a gesture or sentence to seem a bit stilted. Tony uploads his latest iteration of the code into the suit and starts putting it through its paces.

//

It's certainly not the first time Steve has walked in on Mr. Stark working on the Iron Man suit. Between fixing battle damage and adding upgrades, there's usually some pieces and parts scattered around the lab. But today it's the whole suit, assembled and standing apparently of its own accord in the middle of the room. A few wires are connecting it to the ceiling and nearby computers, but they're slack. Data cables and fall-arrest lines maybe, but nothing actively keeping the suit upright. Steve freezes, half hidden behind one of the partitions used to divvy up the lab space. He hasn't announced himself yet, and Mr. Stark is clearly wrapped up in his work. 

Steve stares at the suit, wondering. It's standing unnervingly still, but that doesn't negate the possibility that the pilot is inside, being careful and patient as Mr. Stark circles him and taps various joints. Tony moves to stand in front of the suit, hands on his hips, looking up into the glowing white eyes. Steve's gaze rolls over the pair, noting in an absentminded way that Iron Man's height advantage is at least partly due to the large rocket boosters in his boots. Steve has always known Iron Man to be the same height as himself, if not slightly taller, and he suddenly wonders where the pilot stands without those boots.

Tony lifts a hand and knocks lightly against the chestplate. "Relax, buddy."

The suit shifts, and Steve inhales sharply despite himself. It's like watching his fellow servicemen go from parade rest to at ease; not a huge move, but an assortment of loosening muscles that breathes life into a simple standing pose. Iron Man shifts his weight slightly onto one foot, cocking a hip. His shoulders relax, and his helmeted face tilts down to better meet Mr. Stark's gaze. 

Tony grins. "Hey there." He sounds pretty pleased. "Let's do a voice check. Give me a catch phrase."

"If we can't protect the world, you can be damn well sure we'll Avenge it." Iron Man's voice seems extra robotic, syllables not quite falling where they should. It hitches as well, the last word dissolving into static. Steve frowns along with Tony.

"Oh, gross. That was awful. Downgrade from the last test for sure." Tony cups Iron Man's jaw with one hand, encouraging him to tip his head back. "Bad coil too, sounds like." He taps Iron Man on the neck with one finger, where his Adams apple would be under the armor. Steve swallows reflexively as he watches. "I'll have to get that from the inside," Tony mutters, more to himself than to Iron Man, Steve feels, but then Tony has a habit of doing that to just about everybody.

Tony reaches up to hold Iron Man's jaw in both hands now. His fingers slide along the metal almost like a caress as he tilts the helmet down to face him again. Something twists in Steve's stomach. It's an awfully familiar way to touch another person's face, even though a helmet. Tony's index fingers sweep up and catch in the seam where the golden faceplate meets the red jaw. There's a soft click, one Steve is sure he couldn't have heard if he didn't have enhanced hearing. His breath stops. 

Tony is going to lift the faceplate. He's going to reveal the man underneath. Of course he can, of course he knows who the mysterious pilot is. But they don't know that Steve is there. He's not supposed to know. He promised he'd never pry. Should he announce himself? Run? Just close his eyes?

The faceplate has only come away from the helmet the barest inch when Tony stops. For one wild second, Steve thinks he's been made. Surely one of Mr. Stark's computers picked up his presence. 

"This isn't priority," Tony declares, pressing his thumbs to the corners of Iron Man's mouth slit and closing the helmet with another audible click. "A broken voice box is excusable. Need to make sure you can move right first."

Steve leans on the room divider he's still mostly obscured by, feeling almost dizzy. His stomach twists again, and he's not sure if it's from relief or acute disappointment. He'd never want to break Iron Man's trust, or Mr. Stark's for that matter. But… he'd been so close… he could have finally known… He shakes his head, refocusing on the pair across the room.

Tony has retreated to a nearby workbench, picking up a rubix cube. He tosses it at Iron Man. "Reflex check." The armored man catches it easily. "Let's see your dexterity," Tony prompts next. Iron Man starts twisting the cube, but quickly gets jammed as the blocks don't quite get flush with each other before he tries to twist in a cross direction. Tony chuckles. "It's not a race, buddy. JARVIS, increase finger sensitivity by ten percent." Iron Man pauses, then reassesses the cube, feeling around the sides and smoothing the blocks into place before choosing his next twist. Steve finds it slightly odd that he's not looking down at the cube as he manipulates it, but he supposes that the point is the hand motion and not to actually solve the puzzle. It's important to have spatial awareness even without your eyes, after all. 

Tony grins wide again. "Much better." He takes the cube back and tosses it uncaringly over his shoulder. "Let's work on your people skills. Oh!" He throws his hands up in mock despair, pitching his voice in silly melodrama, "There's danger afoot! Save me, Iron Man!" 

Iron Man tilts his head to face his employer, and Steve would swear he could read fond exasperation in the slight pause before he responds. Or maybe Steve's just projecting his own feelings about Tony's antics. 

"Fear not, citizen," Iron Man deadpans. "Iron Man is here to rescue you." 

Tony bursts out laughing, but is interrupted as Iron Man wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him in. Steve can't help but smirk at the honest to god squeak that Tony emits as Iron Man tucks him tightly into his side. Tony squirms, smacking Iron Man's chest with an open palm as he gasps, "Too tight!! Ease up fifteen percent!" The metal arm around his waist loosens slightly, and Tony slackens with it. He huffs, laying his cheek on Iron Man's shoulder, forehead against his neck. "Careful with your psi there, Romeo. I don't need any civil suits on my hands over cracked ribs."

Iron Man pauses again before replying, "Okay." He shifts his head, looking down at Tony. "Are you injured." His voice still has a bit of a flat quality. Steve hopes Mr. Stark fixes that "coil" in his voicebox before their next team-up. It's hard enough to pick up some of his more subtle inflections through the modulators on a good day; Steve doesn't want to lose any more of his true voice.

"Nah," replies Tony, shifting against the metal arm that's still wrapped firmly around his waist. "Fit as a fiddle. Fit to fly, in fact. Passenger test. Low hover."

Iron Man adjusts his stance, free hand flattening palm-down to activate the flight stabilizer. He lifts Tony with his other arm, helping the smaller man step up onto his metal boots. Tony slides his arms up, wrapping them securely around Iron Man's neck. Steve's stomach does yet another odd twist as his brain supplies him with the word, "embrace."

"Hold on tight, citizen," orders Iron Man, activating his rocket boots and sending them straight up, about two feet off the floor.

Tony is laughing again. It's a light, mirthful sound; not the derisive scoff Steve is used to hearing from him. "That's too cheesy, oh my god. You sound like Cap in an old news reel." Steve startles at the mention of himself.

"I'll ease up on the cheese by fifteen percent," replies Iron Man, echoing Tony's previous comment. 

Tony's eyes sparkle. "Much better. Love to hear that good humor."

"Easy to have good humor with such good company."

"Oh ho! Careful with the flirting out in the field. Can get a guy in trouble."

Flirting. 

The word bounces off Steve's brain, rebounds against the inside of his skull, and then sinks in like a throwing ax lodging into a tree with a 'thunk.'

Flirting. 

Iron Man was flirting with Tony Stark. Tony, the only one on the team who knew his true face. Tony, who so carefully tended to the armor that kept the man inside safe. Tony, who caressed Iron Man's helmeted face, laid his head on his shoulder, twined his arms around his neck. Tony Stark, the most eligible bachelor in the world, who was never known to have the same date twice, let alone to ever be in a real relationship.

The revelation crashed into Steve as if Iron Man himself had tackled him. Iron Man couldn't not date Steve because of his secret identity. He couldn't date him because of his secret relationship. Iron Man and Tony Stark were involved, and hiding it from the world. Iron Man by hiding his face, and Tony by acting the flighty playboy. 

Steve was so shocked, so utterly distracted by the parade of emotions stampeding through him, that he didn't register that the hovering pair was slowly revolving on the spot. At least, not until he heard Tony's alarmed yelp of, "Steve?!" and looked up to find him staring directly at him, wide-eyed, over Iron Man's shoulder.

Tony Stark was not a man who embarrassed easily. In fact he was self-described as shameless. On the surface there was nothing suspect about the sort of tests he was running with Iron Man. Steve would bet bottom dollar that in any other circumstance, Tony would cheekily play up the potentially questionable nature of their current pose, reveling in the salacious humor. But instead he was panicked, caught out. And that clinched it for Steve. He'd stumbled onto a secret affair.

Steve realized his mouth was hanging open, waiting to say words that his brain wouldn't provide. For a second, Tony seemed equally dumbstruck. Then color rushed to his face, and he barked, "Get out!!" 

Steve didn't need telling twice. 

#Stony secret ID plotbunny #dakity yaks #i don't even know which reality this is an AU of tbh #i had old comics vibes in my brain but #it's however you'd like to read it really #long post #in case the cut doesn't work #stevetony #stony #super husbands

[holdmyowos]

Mating Season (Hawks x Male Reader Lemon)

Includes: Boy x boy (duh), feral Hawks, angst and cursing.

Your POV:

           It had been a long day at the League. So much hectic things had happened that Shigaraki decided to call a meeting. Everyone was crammed in one room with a really long table. The meeting was one of those that you had been to countless times before. It was just Shigaraki ranting about how nothing ever went his way. Thankfully, Hawks, was to the right of you. That always put you at ease. He was so easy to get along with. That, and he was handsome. Too bad he was probably straight. He kept making stupid jokes and making fun of Shigaraki. Shigaraki gave Hawks the middle finger and kept up his speech. "Shut it, bird boy, or else you'll get in trouble," you hissed at Hawks. He laughed. "Come on now. Live a little." You rolled your eyes at him. "How can I do that when Shigaraki's keeping me here? I'd rather be doing anything else." You whispered back. "A hot guy like yourself shouldn't be stuck in this musty room doing nothing but listening to some crusty dude vent. You should totally hook up with someone!" He winked at you. Your heart about stopped. He was so cute. Did he mean he liked you? If you asked, would he hook up with you? Just the thought made your lower stomach throb. "Yeah, I guess I should. You know who with?" You blushed at him.

Hawk's POV

My body tensed up. No. This could not happen here. Not in front of the whole league. I started fidgeting. What Luke the chances be that he liked me back? My nails dug into the chair arm. His voice was so nice and soothing. So calming. My breathing sped up. I hate when this happens. It puts me in an odd position. My mating instinct kicks in when someone says something like that. I could ask him out, but that might ruin our friendship. I kept fidgeting throughout the meeting, waiting for it to be over. My anxiety probably wouldn't let me talk to him anyway. The pressure in my stomach just gets more and more. My face turns red.

Your POV

For some reason, Hawks had not answered your question. In fact, he had not said anything for the rest of the meeting. He started fidgeting. His face turned red. Did you make him uncomfortable with that question? By the ending of the meeting, his hair was all messed up by how many times he had run his fingers through it. Somehow, his fingernails had seemingly turned into something that more resembled talons. Shigaraki dismissed everyone. You went up to him. You caught his eyes for a few seconds, and his gaze was very intense. You walked closer. "Hey, Hawks-" you took another step forward, and he flew off to his bedroom. What was he doing? You followed him. When you got to his room, you knocked.

"Hey, what's going on?" You asked, concern lacing your voice. He was acting odd. Even through the door, you could hear his labored breathing. He did not answer. Was he ignoring you? You knocked louder. "I'm talking to you! Are you okay? What's wrong?" His breathing calmed down. "I'm sorry! Please... please just leave me alone." He almost sounded like he was crying. "Hell I will! I'm not going to just leave you like that, damn it! Something's wrong, and I want to help you! I'm your friend!" You shouted at him. "I need something more than that," his answer came. What did that mean? What was going on with him? A giant crashing sounded from in his room, as if he had tipped a chair over. "What do you mean, Hawks? Do you need something? I'll get it for you. I'm here for you." Whatever was going on was serious. The Hawks you knew would never cry. He was always quick with a joke, always seemingly happy. He had never show his weakness like this before. "I need something more than a friend. Just leave!" He said again. Yet he still did not sound angry, just sad. What did he mean by that? "Hawks, please. Just tell me what's wrong. I'll help you with whatever it is. I-" your voice broke. "I love you. If there's anything I can do, just come and get me." You took a step away from the door, giving up. If he did not want to tell you even after such an emotional confession, he'd never say.

"Wait."

In a flash, you were whisked away. You could barely comprehend what had happened. He was so fast. One moment, you were in the hall, but the next moment you were in his room. It had all been a blur of red. Hawks shut the door with a click.

You took a moment to take in what had happened. He had grabbed you and dragged you into his room in less than a second. He pressed his mouth against yours with passion, pulling you in. His strong muscles were hard against you. Surprised by how fast he was taking it, you pushed him away.

You took in the scene. He had ripped through your shirt in the place he had dragged you. His room, which normally seemed so orderly, had feathers all over it. A wooden desk had been toppled over, so that much paper and few pencils littered the floor. Hawks's shirt had been cast aside on the floor. His hair was a mess. In fact, he looked so disorganized. He was all sweaty, but his scent was so nice. You could see all his abs and arm muscles spread in front of you, moving with his breathing. He looked so fucking hot. His fist kept clenching and unclenching. He was staring at you like you were the last morsel of food left on earth. His breathing had again become heavy. His lips were parted. One hand of his was on the wall. He looked really angry.

"Why the hell did you say you loved me, if you can't even bring yourself to fucking kiss me?" He spat. He did not give you a chance to respond. He trapped you by pressing you against the door. He very slightly squeezed your neck with one hand, his claw tips barely touching your skin. You stayed like that a moment, his breath hot against you. He slowly calmed down enough to let you go. He flopped onto his bed and laid down on his back and closed his eyes, and grit his teeth together. "Whatever the fuck. Just leave then. I was probably just hallucinating. Tell anyone and you're dead. I swear." He let out a giant sigh and raked his claws on his blanket sheets, ripping long lines in them, as if to prove his point.

"Hawks. It just all happened so fast. I do love you. Really. I was just surprised you accepted me. I just needed a minute. That's all." He sat up on his bed. "Sorry for yelling at you. And threatening you. It's just these bird instincts sometimes take control." He licked his lips and stared at you. "N-no problem. Anyway, what was wrong with you during the meeting? Why did you... you know, flip over your desk? And what is up with those claws?" You knelt down on the floor next to his bed. His gaze wandered over you, humming, as if deciding what to tell you. "Well, if I'm being perfectly honest, you were what was wrong with me during the meeting. What a pain in the ass. You're just so fucking hot that you turned me on. What can I say? And one thing turns into another, and my breeding instincts kick in. I get protective of my space, my things, including..." He said the next word quickly. "...you." "And when my bird instincts kick in, I seem more bird like. So, they are talons, not claws. He stuck out his tongue. It was longer and narrower than usual. I just did not know how to let out my feelings. My instincts go against what human society's norms are quite often. I get angry. So," he gestured to the knocked over desk.

You got up. "Well, I'm here for you now. So don't worry about society's norms." You crawled on top of him and plunged your lips against his. His chest was so warm against you. He broke the kiss for air. The two of you rolled on and off of each other. Finally, he pinned you against the bed. He took one finger and gently traced your jawline. He laid down on top of you, embracing you in a hug. Melting onto you. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I just wanted someone to hold me like this so badly." He laid his head next to yours. You traced his muscular arms. "Are you sure that's all you want?" You whispered in his ear. "What do you mea-" he spluttered. Noticing his pants, you had pressed hard against him. He looked down at you with lust. "Touch me like that again, I fucking dare you. You won't," he whispered. "Yes I will." You started palming him through his pants. He let out little gasps, moving his hips towards your hand.  "Needy, hmm? I kinda thought you'd be dom, not going to lie. Makes things more interesting, I guess." He smirked up at you. "So, you've thought about us doing this before?"

"So?"

"Nothing."

"Good."

A sudden knock at the door surprised both of you. "Hawks, I was wondering if-" Toga's voice. "Hawks is busy right now. How about you fuck off?" You heard her skipping back down the hall, completely unfazed. "Hey, that was rude. Wha-" you cut off his words by taking his dick into your hand and jacking him off. He twitched. You picked up the pace.

"Hell not so fucking rough." He all but moaned. You let go of him. He whined in protest. "Thought you didn't like it rough." "It hurts so badly. I hate how this bird quirk makes me feel. Please. Please just... just do it. Don't waste any time. I can't wait. I can take it without any lube or anything. Please..." you could see how badly his pride hurt, but his instincts were taking over. "...please just fuck me." He took the rest of his clothes off. You followed suit. "You're sure that's what you want?" "Don't make me beg. I couldn't live with myself." You considered the idea, but by now he had caused quite the bulge in your own pants. "Ok, bird brain."

You gently pressed into him. He made deep gauges in the bed with his talons. "You're so fucking tight. Just relax and it will go smoother." "You're right, you're right." Every time you pressed in deeper, he clenched around you and groaned. His wings puffed out. Finally, you pushed all the way in. Slowly, you moved up and down. "Hawks, you're such a fucking bottom." His moans were very loud. "I knowwwwwwww..." You picked up the pace, and soon were nearing your climax. "Hawks, are you ready?" "I've been ready, just... just waiting for you," he gasped. You rode out your orgasms and for the rest of the night the two of you had a great time.

#Hawks #bnha #mha #hawksxreader #lemon

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness 63.2: Dreams and Honor

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

I waited at the altar alone. Ren's wreath of pink and green was there. Penny was off to one side and waiting. But I was under the arch and up on the altar all alone and waiting. I folded my arms in front of me and looked out into the tiny crowd of guests. Oscar was close by to perform the ceremony. But really it was just me. Just waiting for my ladies to walk my way. 

There was a cool breeze which was nice but I still felt hot and dizzy in my peach yellow tuxedo. 

Then Ruby exited the house in her trumpet style wedding gown with her father beside her and for the second time that day my heart stopped in my chest. Her father was leading her by the arm down to me where I was waiting and the blood rushed to my face like I stood up too quickly. My face got hot and it felt like a dozen hooks were in the flesh around my eyes and we're all pulling gently. It was a little like I was seeing sunlight for the first time. Looking at her. It was a blinding rush. 

Weiss walked out in a low back mermaid gown and I nearly stumbled. I laughed a little when I saw her and only when my face moved did I realize I was crying. It still felt like all the skin on my face was being gently pulled away in a rush like hyper. Really right behind the eyes. It was a different kind of blinding sensation. Like I was being plunged into darkness as my blood pressure spiked and my vision tunneled. I didn't actually pass into unconsciousness looking at Weiss. But I did spread the legs of 'unconsciousness' and tease her. I almost made sweet, sweet love to unconsciousness. And it burned me in my skull like I just smoked a bowl or got a runner’s high.

I exhaled a shaking breath. I could do this. I could do this. I was a man. Come on, man. I was getting bopped. They were crushing me like a beer can. Only it was my brain. 

Taiyang handed Ruby off to me. She smiled and gave me a gentle giggle. My expression must have been funny. Because she was laughing at me. I couldn't get it together before Weiss was given to me by Klein. She tried to hide her own laugh behind her hand. It was a dainty quiet thing and I was glad they were deriving so much amusement from me. So glad. I mean… I did alright in my tuxedo. I did alright. I didn't look like a god though. They looked like little bright goddesses in all white. 

Taiyang and Klein took their seats in the single front row. 

Ruby cooed, "aww." And she patted me on the arm. 

"He's crying," Weiss whispered. 

"I told you!" Ruby shot back at a pitch that would be hard to hear even just a little away from us. 

"Yeah," I managed to croak out like an idiot. "I am." I couldn't stop or get it together. My face still felt flush like I stood up too quickly. I'd love to see a graph of my blood pressure over the last two minutes? Five minutes? I hardly remembered watching them walk down the aisle. They just sort of appeared. They were doin' it on purpose, too. It was hard to prove but if I was a betting man, I'd bet on that. 

"Welcome all of you!" Oscar began in an Ozpin like fashion. "We're going to go ahead and get started…" Ozpin trailed like he was Oscar.  "We are gathered to celebrate the union of these three in matrimony as a commitment for the rest of their lives."

"This marriage is being created through equality, mutual respect, affection, and a willingness to not abuse the power they each grant one another over themselves. It's not an easy trick to manage. It isn't a cheap trick. And if it's an illusion, then it's an illusion like the horizon or time itself. It possesses a recurrent and quiet beauty," Oscar pressed on.

I didn't much feel like Ruby's or Weiss's equal. Not really. It made me want to laugh a little. Ruby and Weiss were… well, they were fantastic. And I was mediocre at best. You feel me? Like I mean honestly. Who wrote this? Probably them. That made it a little harder to laugh at. It made it somehow stronger like they wrote it into existence like a law of nature. Like gravity or electromagnetism or color. 

"We are gathered here today to witness an enormous union surrounded by few friends and family members. We would like to embrace a quiet moment of silence for those fallen." Oscar bowed his head. 

My first thought went to Pyrrha. That… hadn't healed. It was a gaping wound in my heart that just rolled like waves on a beach. What if. Splash. What if. Splash. What if. And it was hard to tell that voice 'enough. I'm happy where I am and you can't take that from me.' I didn't always succeed in doing that. Sometimes it got the better of me. And I couldn't master myself. I couldn't tell it to shut up because it was so deep. 

Then my thoughts ran to Ren and Nora. I'd gotten them killed in a bad, bad way. I robbed them of their chance to explore one another. What if. Splash. What if. Splash. What if. In Pyrrha's case it was like yeah. Maybe. But in Ren's and Nora's I took that from them. And it was hard in a different way than the way Pyrrha was hard. But I'm not sure it was any less hard. It was brutal.

I looked at the flowers set out for my dead team. It was so far from enough to do them justice that I wanted to laugh a touch madly. It was like a nagging wiggling worm crawling through my brain and driving me absolutely nuts as it ate away at the grey matter inside. The pain I was in was excruciating. It was the sort of pain which unwinded you. 

"Okay. I think that's quite enough of that. Because today is a celebration. How many of us struggle and fail to find even one person to spend a lifetime with? And you three are so very fortunate to have found not only one, but two others to share it with. That's something beyond special. It is exceptional. And it tends to defy all logic and reason. I'm sure it wasn't easy to build what you have here. It probably stumbled together. It was probably fragile at times. I'm sure if you could go back you'd do it differently. Yes it worked out. But it didn't come to you all wrapped up in a neat little bow. Things like this are never clean. They can't be. But it's stronger for the difficult times. Scar tissue is stronger than flesh. And that's not to say your wounds are healed. Probably not. But you are better for it together. You may now go into your vows."

"I, Ruby Rose, solemnly swear that I know of no lawful reason why I should not be joined in marriage to Jaune and Weiss. And I ask those present to witness as I take them as husband and wife."

"And to Weiss I do swear to always be your best friend and partner in action. Besties to lovers. You know?" She giggled. "I know I'm a little energetic. I love your patience with me. I know I try you. It doesn't go unnoticed and unappreciated. I love that about you. It's quiet and strong but never lonely. I'll always be there beside you when you need me. Less than a call away. Always. You were there for me when I was hurting so bad and I want to work by your side as mothers, huntresses, friends, and lovers. I think we can make a wonderful life together."

"And to Jaune I want to be a light in your life. I know you are trialed and a lot is resting on your shoulders. I want you to know you can share that load with me. I ask a lot of you and put more on your plate. But if it's at all possible I want to make your life a little easier. I want you to always be able to count on me and never hide away in yourself. I want to feel with you and be a part of your struggles. I don't want you to ever hide what you're feeling from me. You've had some rough times and you have more ahead but maybe they can be happy even if they are difficult. Maybe you can let me take care of you. And I want to."

"I, Weiss Schnee, solemnly swear that I know of no lawful reason why I should not be joined in marriage to Ruby and Jaune. And I ask those present to witness as I take them as wife and husband.”

“To Ruby I never had a friend like you before or since I met you. For the first time in my life I wasn’t truly lonely and that’s all thanks to you. I want to mirror that companionship for you. I want to give back what you have given me. I will always be your partner. And together in true sisterhood I want that intimacy with you I started to crave in Mistral. And I was hungry to have you and be with you. I was starved all my life and it was like eating for the first time when I was with you. I can’t wait to continue to explore each other.”

“For Jaune you won my lonely heart. I got to know the real you. You’re protective, kind, and only a touch obsessive. Your drive is both your greatest vice and greatest virtue. You know how to push yourself and you keep pushing me to be better beside you. You make me want to be a better person. More kind, and gentle, empathetic. You make me hungry for more and I want to give you the rest you deserve. I want you to rest beside me, now. Rest like you belong here. Let your aura shine and shed power like a star. I want to provide you that gentle comfort and support. I want to be a good night’s sleep in your mind. If I could give anything to you it would be that. Because you’ve earned it.”

“I…” I started and choked and stopped for a moment to take a breath. “I, Jaune Arc, solemnly swear that I know of no lawful reason why I should not be joined in marriage to Weiss and Ruby. And I… I ask those present to witness as I take them as my wives.” My voice was shaking and low. But it was getting smoother as I talked more. I got into my rhythm and started to flow and I let my voice timbre.

“For Weiss I think everybody fantasizes about marrying their first crush. I don’t have to fantasize. From the moment I saw you I knew that I wanted you and I would do anything and be anything to impress you. I still feel that way. I still would do anything and everything to impress you and win one of those soft centered smiles you sometimes give out like chocolate. I want the last thing I ever see to be that little real smile I usually have to work hard for. And I want the last thing I ever hear to be your voice hitting a high note and singing me a sweet song. I want to work and struggle and earn those smiles from you. I vow to try as hard as I can to get just one more of those smiles each and every day.”

“To Ruby you were my first real friend. And I couldn’t have fantasized for a better first friend to have. When I fell apart you pulled me together. I could have been and would be nothing without you. Because you were the first person to ever really believe in me. I want to give that back to you. I want to believe in you and support you and be always faithful to you in every way. I feel like I can never ever be half as a good of a friend as you have been to me over these years. But I swear to try my hardest. And I swear to plea against fate and make your dreams come true. I don’t have dreams of my own. I borrow a little bit of yours and it makes me strong in ways I never imagined I could be. I vow to dream up something you can share in and be a friend of such unflinching affectionate solidarity that you always have a safe space you can return to.”

“You have all decided to exchange rings. Please take them and in doing so bind yourselves to this union.”

I reached out to the pedestal on the altar and took the largest Titania and engraved ring. I slipped it on my finger. 

“I take this ring as a sign of my fidelity to you two and my undying love. In doing so I bind myself to you both,” I murmured. 

“I take this ring as a sign of my fidelity to you two and my undying love. In doing so I bind myself to you both,” Weiss hummed and put it on her finger. 

“I take this ring as a sign of my fidelity to you two and my undying love. In doing so I bind myself to you both,” Ruby whispered and slid her’s on. 

"By the power vested in me I pronounce this union. You may now kiss," Oscar informed us. 

Ruby and Weiss leaned in and kissed me. One on each cheek and then turned and pecked each other to the applause of friends and family. 

It didn’t feel real. I stared at the ring on my finger and how the silvery metal caught the light. I turned my hand around, this way and that and stared at it. It felt like a long lost memory or a distant dream but I was awake. It was happening to me. 

“Jaune?” Weiss got my attention.

“Wha…?” I wondered dumbly. 

“Come on,” Ruby took me by the arm.

We weren’t really going anywhere for the recessional. Dinner was going to be served right here. Salmon and beef steaks and vegetables were served and I sat at a table with a wife on each arm. And that was pretty fucking slick. Not gonna lie. 

I thumbed my left earring with my left hand wearing the new ring. It felt fake. It felt too… dreamlike. Consciousness was an abstract if it wasn’t an outright illusion. This felt untrue. It felt too good to be real. Things this good didn’t happen to me. They just didn’t. I felt as though it was going to be robbed from me at any moment. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, Jaune,” Ruby began over dinner. “Are you hiding your aura away on purpose? Does it have to do with Salem?”

“No… no. Am I? I don’t mean to be.”

“Well then, let it out. Let me taste your emotions,” Ruby pleaded. She was a hungry little empath. She wanted to feed off of me. And of course I was going to allow it. I allowed my golden aura to stretch all joyful and elated out of my body. I let the surrealness of it all known and I could taste Ruby’s and Weiss’s emotions. Ruby tasted like cinnamon and flowers. Weiss tasted like cold coffee and custard pudding and crushed crisp ice. I could literally feel how happy they were through our auras and my head fell in my hands and I started crying again. 

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

#motion sickness #rwby #fanfic #war of the roses #jaune arc #ruby rose #weiss schnee #jaune arc x weiss schnee #weiss schnee x ruby rose #ruby rose x jaune arc #lancaster #whiteknight #white rose #whiterose #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee

[tpwkxxangel]

Harry Fanfiction Teaser!!!

☀️Sunshine Temptress☀️

//i am writing a harry fan fiction and this is a teaser of that fan fiction. let me know what you guys think! i’m always open for constructive criticism//

February 2016

The smoke filled her lungs with each inhale of her cigarette. The pack was cheap, but they will do just fine for tonight. The black dress barely made it past her bum and hugs tight against her showing the curves of her body off. The heels made her feet hurt but they also made her three inches taller, beauty is pain sometimes. With one last puff, she drops her cigarette to the ground, stomping her foot to put the ashes out.

Harry saw her blonde hair first. There was something drawing him toward this girl. It could be the way that cigarette touched her ruby red lips, or the whispers throughout the club of how every guy wanted to take her home. She couldn't be more than 20, but she seemed to be in this club on the same night as Harry which means she had to be over 21.

After the past few weeks of forcing himself to do nothing, he ventured out with his mates one last time before he leaves for Jamaica to start writing his first solo album. It's quite nerve wracking to be doing all the things he used to do in a group, by himself. Sure, he has his manager and a few old writing friends coming along with him, but at the end of the day it's his face on the album which makes this whole process that much more intimidating.

He wants a new sound, one that he couldn't exactly do in One Direction, but the real question is, what sound is he going for? Is he the type to go for pop? Rock? Indie? With absolutely no clue, Harry lets out a long sigh, picking up his tequila and downing the rest.

"One Whiskey on the rocks, please," a deliciously sweat voice draws him out of his spiraling thoughts. He glances over and sees the same blonde from the corner. How did he miss her coming over to the bar?

"Comin' right up miss," the bartender turns around grabbing the bottles to get her drink. She feels eyes on her. That's a normal occurrence for her, but these seemed more intense than others. Glancing to her right, she sees the curly haired brit and boy was he a sight to see. Dressed in his tight black skinny jeans with a sheer floral shirt only buttoned halfway showing his tattoos off. His hair curled around his shoulders and his fingers around his fresh glass of a dark liquid.

Their eyes meet and this is the first time Harry notices her striking green ones. They are a light shade of green that almost sparkle under the night sky. The tilt of one side of her lips sent shivers down his spine. This girl is driving him crazy and she hasn't event talked to him yet.

"Here you go miss," the bartender grabs her attention, causing her to break eye contact with him.

"Thank you," she said, and she pulled some money out of the top of her dress. After paying, she didn't waste any time before coming up to Harry. "You know it's awfully rude to stare," she smirks at him.

"At a pretty face? Would be a shame not to admire such beauty," the line slipped off his tongue smoother than the tequila in his hand.

"What a line," she grabs her chest dramatically, "You use that on all the girls?"

"Only the ones driving me as crazy as you are in that dress." The banter came easy between the two. It seemed fairly natural considering they have never met before tonight. "I'm Harry. What's your name, love?"

"The name's –" she starts but when a pair of strong hands wrap around her waist, she stops. Her eyebrows draw together and a small frown replaces the smile that was there moments ago.

"Babe, this party is getting boring. Let's go back to my place," the unknown man breathes out, slightly slurring the words. The man pulls her back to his body and the look on her face is of clear annoyance. He seems to be handsy with the young girl. Something tells Harry the alcohol is not what's influencing the guy's behavior, he's just a prick.

"I'm having a good time Jared. I'm actually about to go dance," she shoves him off before she struts to the middle of the dance floor, hips swaying causing many heads to turn.

Jared swears under his breath before his eyes focus onto Harry. "She's feisty, that one. You believe I met her at a conference here? Wicked intelligent, she is. Definitely going places man. M'Dad's gunna love her when he meets her this weekend. He always told me once I found the right girl he'd release—"

Harry tunes out the annoying bloke, solely focusing on the girl dancing. Her hips move so gracefully, and she seems so carefree. Her hands travel all over her body as the music beats throughout the room. He figures this Jared guy is probably her boyfriend or something, but that's not really what he's worried about. The real issue is how hot and bothered she is making Harry as she makes eye contact with him when her hands travel down her front, over her hips and out. It's driving him absolutely mad. Soon, he will have an issue in his pants that will be a little too hard to contain.

A hand on his shoulder pulls him out of his trance. He looks to his left and sees Adam. "You ready to head out mate? We've got an early flight in the morning."

It's true. The flight will be long considering they are in New York, but it'll give Harry time to piece together exactly how he wants the next two months to pan out, how he wants the album to sound, and what on Earth he will have inspiration to write about.

"Sure. Let me go pay our tab," he mutters. He looks back over to the bar while fishing out his wallet from his back pockets. He notices another woman approach the couple a few feet away from where he stands at the bar. They seem to be in a heated discussion, and his mystery girl seems completely calm. It's a shame Harry doesn't go for taken girls because he would love to take her home with him tonight. He hears part of their conversation while handing the money over to the bartender, but it's just not making sense to his slightly inebriated brain. "Uh, keep the change."

Still confused, Harry gets into the car with Adam and his other mates. He won't be seeing her again, so he tries to push the thoughts of the girl out of his head. The car gets stuck in traffic, but that's New York for you. It's always backed up.

"You alright H?" Adam notices his far-off look. Sure, everyone knew he would be nervous about this trip, but this didn't feel like nerves.

"Yeah man. I just can't get that girl out of my head."

"The one that you were eyeing most of the night?" his future bass player asks.

Harry nods his head. "She's got a prick of a boyfriend, though. She honestly didn't seem super interested in him or anything. Wonder if she's just faking a relationship with him or something?"

"Wonder what else she fakes with him," one of his other friends laughs.

They all burst into laughter. "What really gets me is what I heard her say before I left...I think she said, 'I'm having your baby' but it's really none of my business."

#harry styles #harry fan fiction #harry fanfic #fine line

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Hurt, pt.6 (E.D.)

Summary: Ethan finds out about Y/N.

Warnings: ANGST, swearing, talk of depression and blood and miscarriage

Word Count: 2300

Hurt - Series Masterlist

There are moments in life when time stands still. When great fear and anxiety arise, our brain and body tends to shut down to protect ourselves from the trauma.

For Y/N, it felt like every time she opened her eyes she found herself someplace new.

First, it was on the porch, tucked into Grayson’s arms as he carried her away. She couldn’t hear much aside from the pain that spread through her stomach or the ringing in her ears. She felt his chest vibrating as he spoke but nothing resonated with her. She clung to his scent, the woodsy, grass-like smell he and Ethan would have after being outside all day for it had comforted her.

Second, she was in the back of the car, her vision blurry and her mind hazy.

Third, she was in the hospital. She couldn’t say or do much, but she knew what she needed.

“Henstridge. Doctor Henstridge.” Once the nurse nodded, she allowed herself to close her eyes. It was just enough to keep her strength, to rest up and focus on her surroundings. But she didn’t really want to. She didn’t want to hear them say she’s lost the babies.

There is an infinite amount of things she’d offer the universe for her children to be safe, but none could compare to the guilt she felt. After all, her initial thought was to end the pregnancy when she learned of it. Was this her punishment? Was it a way to tell her she had caused it? Now when she accepted this unexpected change? Now when she loved them?

And where is Ethan? Why does he seem to be gone whenever things go wrong in her life? He started the fire and he didn’t stick around to watch his work as everything she is made of burned to crisp.

She managed to survive losing him, but losing the babies? She didn’t want to survive that.

“So, what now?” Grayson sighed as doctor Henstridge concluded his exam.

Y/N had begun coming to, something she’ll be very thankful for later on because the last thing she wanted is for Henstridge to be the one conducting the exam. She just wanted his expertise, his presence as a way to anchor herself. He was more than helpful the first time around.

“I gave her some medication and we’ll run some tests. She has to stay in bed, with no stress.” Edward turned to her, noticing her eyelids are moving but the medication he put her on would keep her out of it for a while. He was sure of it.

In a sense, Edward wasn’t able to face her right now. She was pretty panicked when they first brought her in, pale and crying. He could tell she wasn’t quite there in a sense, it was more of an instinctual reaction. He felt as if he had failed her. He felt as if he should have seen this coming, especially with the stress of a divorce looming over her head. He hadn’t even talked to her since she came to get her stitches removed a week ago. He was aware he needed to create some distance between them for he had become too attached, but now he wondered if it had hindered his ability to do his job.

Sighing, Edward rubbed his chin.

“I suggest you prepare yourself for everything. Just be there for her. Let her know she’s not alone.”

As Henstridge left, Grayson found himself unable to move. He watched her chest rise and fall and he saw just how frail she is for the first time in a long time. He knew Ethan asked him to stay away, but he couldn’t honor his wishes tonight. Grayson had to see his brother. Lucky for him, Ethan was just three floors down.

“Why are you here?” Ethan didn’t hide his animosity, irritated by Grayson’s visit. He needed time alone and he couldn’t focus on healing when Grayson reminded him of all the things he had done wrong and the woman he had broken because she dared to love him more than he ever thought he’d deserve.

While he’s learned how to recognize intrusive thoughts and to differ them from his own, Ethan was still very much emotionally tortured. He still carried too much guilt and anger and so much sadness than he could take. He prayed his antidepressants would work soon, knowing it takes about a month to start feeling the effect. He had circled the date on the calendar, knowing it would probably be the day he gets to leave and see his wife and hopefully begin building his life back up.

That’s why he needed time alone and why he had been anything but happy about his brother’s unexpected visit just before his evening session.

“Y/N is back in the hospital. Something happened.” Grayson didn’t bother sparring with him, wanting to get it all out in the open. It was pretty clear Grayson felt out of sorts as he picked at his nails and chewed on his bottom lip mercilessly. He was always the anxious type.

“She was bleeding and in pain, so I brought her in. She’s at risk of a miscarriage and they have her on all sorts of pills and IVs and they’re talking about stitching her cervix and she’s so weak and vulnerable and she is carrying your kids!” Grayson got progressively louder, his emotion overcoming him. While he tried to give Ethan time he asked for, Grayson knew this would have gone so much smoother or could have been possibly avoided had Ethan not been so secretive about how bad he got. Had he just been open with one of them, none of the bad would have happened.

“Kids?” Ethan stood, the blood rushing to his head despite his pale appearance.

“Triplets, E. And she’s scared to death. She just checked out…even when she was conscious she wasn’t there. I’m scared of what will happen if she loses the babies.” Grayson’s voice cracked, his head between his hands as he swallowed tears.

“I want to see her.” Ethan walked past Grayson, very aware of the irregularities of his leave. He didn’t care, not when Y/N was all alone in a hospital bed with not one, but three of his babies inside her. She is scared and she is lost and he’s probably the last person she’d want to see, but he has to see her. Just for a moment.

With a pass his psychiatrist lent him, Ethan and Grayson returned to her room, but Grayson didn’t come in. He let his brother have this moment.

When Ethan saw her, the very sight of her had frightened him. She laid unconscious in a hospital bed, her usually rosy cheeks now pale, her soft lips cracked where her teeth broke skin in an attempt not to scream. Her bed was tilted so the head would be lower than her waist, probably a gravity thing to keep the babies in place.

Ethan walked closer, so quiet in fear of waking her. He didn’t know what he’d say if she did open her eyes. He didn't even know would she want him here, by her side. A part of him found the thought of her opening her eyes and telling him she hates him destructive, he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

He lowered his eyes to her abdomen, tilting his head to see if it grew already, but it wasn’t likely just yet. It’s been three months since their last time, she would start showing soon, but not tonight. Ethan wasn’t going to be graced with a small bump, he knew.

Reaching out, Ethan had his mind set on placing his palm on her stomach – carefully, very tenderly. His hand is shaky, hovering above but he can’t seem to put it down. You see, he was afraid. Ethan thought even a light touch of a father’s loving hand would be enough to harm his children – the kids he always wanted and always with her – just her.

“I know how badly I messed up.” He speaks so quietly that the words can’t be heard easily. Not by anyone who could be listening in. “When the guilt comes it takes me down the old familiar path. I want to refuse to walk it, pretend that I am the person I demand that I be – your husband, the man you fell in love with. I want to be who you need me to be, but I’m still so damn torn apart by my own mind and a big part of me is ashamed I let it get so bad…that I let myself hurt you in the process.” Ethan sniffles, retracting his hand. He couldn’t touch her. Not without her permission, not even if it wasn’t sexual. He lost that right.

“I’m going to make things right. Even if you never forgive me, I want to be a good dad. I want them to know I’ll do my best to be what my dad was to me.” Ethan sighed heavily, trying not to cry.

“Even when I’m not here, my mind is on you. Always is.” Ethan turned to walk away, gasping once icy cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was a loose fit, a small act of desperation of a girl who struggled so hard to open her eyes to see him – the man she had been missing all along. Even if she was completely certain he’s just a mirage, she wanted to keep this hallucination going.

“Same here. Infinity times infinity, remember?” She smiled meekly, remembering the day they got matching tattoos.

“You sure you want to do this? Once you do, there’s no going back. You’ll be mine forever.” Ethan chuckled, pecking her lips as she nodded. She grasped his hand tighter when the needle first pierced her skin, her wrist burning with the painful sensation. But she had his hand to hold and the infinity times infinity sign had always been theirs – something they could now share.

“Same goes for you, hotshot.” She smiled through the pain, licking her lip. Not only did they both consider number 8 as their lucky number throughout their lives, but they’ve met on August 8th, got engaged on August 8th and planned to get married on the same date. It wasn’t just a coincidence anymore, but they absolutely adored each other and they wanted to make the symbol mean something.

“I’m fine with that. You’re my infinity times infinity – because that’s how much I love you. And that’s how long I’ll love you.”

“Of course I do.” Ethan couldn’t help but smile, noticing her tattoo under the faint lamplight. She had always managed to captivate him, even now when she looked like she stood on death’s doorstep.

“I hope to share that love with our babies too. All three of them.” Ethan clasped her hand in his, a little braver now. He wanted to warm her up, be her sun in this moment of need.

“Now I’m sure you’re a mirage. The Ethan I’ve seen lately would have said they aren’t even his.” Her smile dropped, but her eyes remained on his. “He’d say I’m a whore or something worse.” Her tone is defeated, her voice breaking, her eyes watering.

Ethan didn’t know what to say. He was shocked she saw him that way. Had he really crossed so many lines she’d expect the worse of him? Because he never had any doubt those kids are his – not even for a moment.

“Do you really think that low of me?” He managed to utter, his heart-shattering. There is a mental tornado in his head, which no-one can see nor comprehend. It seemed unfair that no matter how much he strived to be the man his conscience wanted him to be, it would keep taunting him with his failures. Each time his regrets reemerged he would analyze them again, hoping that this time his mind would be satisfied with his self-professed remorse, but it never was. Like an unforgiving ghost, it would be back tomorrow to haunt him all over again. He’d see it in her eyes, in her smile and in the way she’d retract her hand from his. He’d feel it in her half-assed hugs and short, polite answers. She’d always remind him of his mistakes, never intentionally. But they’re there and he can’t make them go away.

“I don’t know.” She spoke with a slight disbelieved smiled on her face. “Because, when I wake up in the morning….I hate you. With all I am, I hate you and I curse the day we met and I want to throw acid on my wrist to remove this permanent mark of my love for you…but as the day goes by and my heart softens…I go to bed loving you…mourning you. So, I don’t know. I’m not sure what I think of the Ethan I’ve come to know in the past months. I miss my husband…the one who married me and promised me a lifetime of happiness and love. That I do know.” A tear slipped her eye so quietly, almost disappearing into the pillow unnoticed. Ethan had caught it just before and while it weighs next to nothing, that tear made him feel heavy.

“I miss that guy too.” He whispered, noticing her eyes are opening less and less, her body tired and mentally frazzled. She needed rest.

“I promise to find him for you.” Without restraint, Ethan leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead, leaving a warm, longlasting kiss before leaving.

Tags: @melodiesforari @brittttneyyyy @beautorigin  @dolandolll @xalayx @godlydolans @heyits-claire @peacedolantwins @dolanstwintuesday @accalialionheart @ethanhes @lanadeldolans @ebbach-03 @dolangels  @xxaamzxx @cutestdolans @yaren-ates @dolansmith @vintagebitttch @primadolangirl @caqsicle @jjustjoy @justordinaryjen @graydolan12 @imaginashawnns @graysonslovie @fandomsfeministsandothershit @bdsmdolan @graysavant @ethanspillow @dopedoodes @anything-dolan  @sugarfootdolan @joyrivh @reblogserpent @jonesana @emiemille  @herewegoagainandagainandagain​ @adventureswithmell 

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan x reader #dolan twins #ethan dolan angst #ethan dolan au #ethan dolan fanfiction #ethan dolan fic #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan x yn #ethan dolan x y/n #ethan dolan x you #grayson dolan #ethan dolan series

[dansedan]

I threatened on the Disco Writer’s Nook server to share my notes from this latest fic, but since they’re wildly incomprehensible and kind of silly I thought maybe I’ll just... chuck ‘em on here instead, under a readmore where they can pass by easier so uhhh xX WeLcOmE To My TwIsTeD mInDXx !!!1!!

(warning for LONG LONG post- I write full sections and asides from the universe that aren’t even in the damn fic within the same notes document a lot... I’m also insufferably pretentious on notes I KNOW and I cull it on the final as much as I can, as well as mild possible spoilers for a fic I haven’t written in the same au-timeline-thing I suppose and NSFT stuff)

(also a lot of this gets discarded because it’s so stupid and I write it at terrible brain moments)

"Por la mañana me di a la estúpida tarea de esconder mis cigarros por los rincones de la casa. Los encuentro, claro, pero fumo poco, fumo menos, hago esfuerzos por mejorarme de una vez."

meditative cigarettes and quitting fic.

Harry smokes less than he drinks, because he smokes to keep sharp and he usually wants to be numb, down to zero, space-based. but after going tee-total and opening up on his quest to actual-human-persondom he finds himself chainsmoking constantly. A concern in his volition is raised, a thought project ruminated on, and strategems laid out.

Harry grasps at the first half at a low point in his attempts to get better without anyone knowing or helping. He wonders about Kim's life, Kim's control. The electrochemistry in him fantasizes about a free-wheeling party-boy sort of Kim, still cool, still quiet, but free and soft and in control of his lack of control- the aviator, the flying ace, at the mercy of the elements and gliding by by choice- lands on the question of the one-per day, the Kim he knows, who takes what he needs with trepidation and preparation.

The truth is that last one- Kim was a social smoker, an after-dinner-if-the-date-is-pleasant smoker, an after-sex smoker, a bumming-cigarettes-to-gague-his-interest smoker (it all started with a boyfriend) but police work and his neverending stint in Juvie drove him to once-per-day, a creature of obsession. He used to heavily resent it- until Harry came along and joined the ritual.

"bebiendo mate con el ademán gracioso de los novatos. Es lo que hago ahora cuando siento ganas de fumar, dijo, con una sonrisa."

Kim and Harry not so close together- the idea of Kim and Harry not knowing everything about each other, because that's just not how you survive, but somehow Kim aching to be up-to-date on Harry all the time.

Harry and his funny little excursions around town. Kim visits and finds cigarettes hidden around the house, smells them in fear of finding drugs, or Harry has to awkwardly shuffle around for one when Kim invites him to smoke. Harry tries to join a book club, starts cooking lofty meals for his yoga class, tries being vegan for a week, checks out a bunch of books on the history of the Coupris Corp (SUZERAINTY ERA MARK OF AUTHENTICITY BABEY) as a way to help him wean off substances but also off Kim. They want each other but they know they need to stand on their own </3

Harry starts going to this novelty/gourmet supermarket and buying one new thing every paycheck like furikake that says it has lead on it and mate and all that. He spends his ex-drinking, smoking money on it.

Harry makes Kim huevos rotos :'-)

You're barely holding it together- how the hell did you get to this newsstand? Is it a newsstand? This structure- round, metal, iron-wrought frame and squat stature- was once a newsstand. How do you know it isn't? What is it now? You feel yourself point someplace on a menu you can't see past the dew of heavy crying- the clerk does not react, he's seen you like this- slam your wallet on the counter. You receive a paper parcel slightly larger than your fist, long. It's warm through the paper, and you can feel the dryness of a light dusting of flour passing through it. Food.

Your legs and arms are moving on their own again, wallet shoved this way, steps stumbled past the other, clumsily bringing whatever it is to your mouth and feeling crumbs fall into your beard- like a shark. That's one of the first things you remember, the beautiful old ultraliberal woman, like a shark, on her boat. The joy of your first- no, second- idiom. The first was up on Marvel Hill where you can't live. Kim said that. Kim's gonna be there, when you do it like a shark and don't stop any of this on your way to work and you stop crying so nobody thinks you did what you're avoiding doing. Is there anyway you can forget the frittte? There's so many locations in your mind, what kind of man are you, remembering the placement of a store that's meant to vanish and appear out of convenience like it's a fucking pitstop (would a flask not be enough? A single habit to get rid of, easy- but you're never easy).

You feel dark-dark-light-darkness and then light again, and smoother flooring and your coat being too warm. You're at the precinct- fuck, you're at the precinct- and it's late, real late, but you are here and there's too many people to fuck up here and at least you aren't crying. Your red face and eyes blend perfectly into too many years and days of red and puffy eyes to call attention. Perfect, perfect- god bless the innocence (or is innocence god? You can't forget- Remember- something.)

"You're late, shitkid." At some point Jean appears beside you. He's walked the other way and stopped- he's grimacing- but more importantly you see his left arm raise and still and clench itself, like a restricted movement, natural instinct. "You smell like shit- is that fish?" You do not know if that is fish because your throat hurts so bad already that you cannot know if you've been swallowing bones for this past hour (minute? Minutes? The walk feels like forever and never enough. You're swearing like a pig now that you're standing, how adequate.) 

You want to say it's agony, the end of days, the end of you- you want to say reprise, and sorry, and oh god I didn't want to see you please I don't deserve it Jean please leave and go away from me and also please oh god please hold me up I don't know what I'm doing but I'm trying to be better but I ate this thing that might as well be sawdust and I do not know what time it's been for several days.

Instead you say "it's my GOD-GIVEN RIGHT, VIC" and you move along like a fucking idiot.

"An image arises in your mind's eye-- a baby, dirty, hideous, its skin mottled and raw and red, peeling, stretching almost impossibly. The baby cries from pain- in it's brief stay on this earth it has already suffered more than some men do in their entire lives. He is built for it- thick skin, quite literally. He is being held by a slight, pale, ugly nurse- a nun in bloodied white rags with a terrible smell of herbs permanently attached to her. The scene is a caricature of mother and child- the hideous thing, held up to her chest, is drinking from an amber bottle, clouded over. In ten years, the contents of this bottle he will be legally too young for-- is this the reason you became the way you are? Are you just born-and-bred this way, surviving off of alcohol where most people had blood and human kindness?

-- It's not. The little pastiche you've thought up for yourself is half propaganda and half racist idiocy. Despite what the supposed "race-realists" may say, not everyone from the Insulindian is thrown on the bottle the moment they're weaned from the tit. In truth, you were barely even medicated, and those bitter, herbaceous spirits are not the cause of your current addiction. It's still on you harry, it's always still on you.

"Wake up- time to listen to the radio.

You love the radio. You really, really love the radio. You think the radio was the greatest purchase you have ever made- drunk you was horrible, and traumatizing, and entirely undebatably subhuman, but he did buy this radio, and by god fuck if that isn't his saving grace (a story comes to mind- a Dolorean allegory from your childhood- about a selfish rich woman and a lazy cheating bum both ferried up to heaven by a single onion that she'd given him during their lives as charity. You choose to ignore the part where they fight and fall back into hellfire). It's the thing that broke you off from your mazovian monk-like refusal to buy anything for yourself other than flour for a week after THE HANGED MAN, it's what got you into cycling and hanging out with the neon eyebleed catsuits crew, it's what reminded you that public libraries exist and nobody will ask you why you're in there reading about suzerainty-era motor carriage manufacturing and the homo-sexual underground. It's the greatest thing since communism, since disco, since-- since-- since cigarettes and kebabs and- and--

... And idolizing someone to the point of crucifixion. Which you aren't supposed to be doing.

Good thing the radio cranks up real loud! 

"You've read everything in this section- theory, history, photography, even, notably, the single romance novel, comically bad, about a middle-aged Vespertine businessman travelling north to the harbour where he had experienced his first teenaged love-- and the young, strapping man he gets to know there. (There are boats involved- it's very biblical). All in all, you read it twice,  meticulously rewrote its horrifyingly vague and unsafe sex scenes (in pen, inside. Not like the librarian's gonna check it) and masturbated at your efforts, winning you a very sore wrist and about 30 minutes of crying because you remembered being in a bookshop with Kim in Martinaise while you were remembering what books were, and then remembered Jean's apartment having a secret stack of equally terrible heterosexual novels bequeathed to him by an ex that you made fun of him for (rabidly, for years).

"Harry's apartment is no longer clean, but not as dirty as before, and its stalwart light-green walls seem, in the summer light, less queasy and foreboding than what they are now, almost dainty in the contrast of the sparse few frames and piles of knickknacks on the floor. 

Believe it or not, this is good-- sometimes, life with Harry makes you feel like a zoologist, intricately analysing an animal's pile of leaves and refuse and knowing, despite all human standards, what these habits mean for the foreign species. And for Harry, mess like this is good. It means he's kept busy by any one of his million little projects,  picked up and put down at a dizzying speed and constancy, each one increasingly out of left field in

Kim and harry talk about the radio, kim thinks about it "radio, what's new? Radio- some-one still loves you"

Harry talking abt agenda + library bc you can't smoke + planning for dinner with Kim :-)

Gotta go to the library so you don't chainsmoke

Gotta shower to go to the library 

Don't wanna shower bc executive dysfunction

Grab a smoke before you shower 

Oh wait you've been chain-smoking fuck (insert meditation on sharp vs smooth)

Hide all your cigarettes around the house feeling pathetic about it

You still don't feel like showering

But you just chainsmoked and you know you'll do it again because you JUST hid your smokes and the hiding spots are fresh in your mind

Birdbath (why are you so fucking dysfunctional that you can't shower like a normal adult) 

Introspective rubber ducky selfhate momence

Rubber ducky encourages you through the power of nihilism and Kim

Thought project gain

Go to library and need comfort so you're going thru all your usual shelves (insert le funny homo shelf joke here) 

What does he read about? Smoking? Idk

Kiiiiiim. Kimmy kim kim. Think about Kim

Maybe he reads recipe books to woo kim

        INSERT EXISTENTIAL BROTH EPISODE HERE to talk about how you've never actually seen Kim cook (he told you it was good soup, clearly lying, you told him it was broth, and that you could teach him how to make soup out of it if he wanted...)

(broth episode was another note, inserted here: 

ANOTHER harry coping fic. Miserable housebound weekend nights because he can't party but the house is horrible to be in and he keeps dunking his hands into more and more ice water and taking like half-body cold showers and he's like "maybe this is bad for my skin!!! I gotta get out holy shit" and he's like uhhhh fucking. Can't go to work. Let's go to the supermarket. And then he's almost there and he's like OH FUCK NO THERES ALCOHOL AT THE SUPERMARKET and he straight up bolts out of there and muscle memory gets him to a shady ass butcher shop in some random immigrant neighborhood and he buys so much fish because of a failed check and he goes home and basically he makes so much fish stock. He makes just so fucking much fish stock and Kim comes to pick him up the next day and panics because it genuinely smells like the dead in there but it's just harry making fucking. fish broth or something. Just harry coming up to the door in his work clothes with way too much cologne on and a thermos of fish soup like "uh... Do you want some Broth kim?" And Kim can't fucking cook but he takes some Broth anyway and he's trying to figure out why harry would do that but harry is being a little edgy about it and Kim is like oh god I need to help him a little and they have a sit down about it and he's like wanting to say "hey if you need somewhere to go I'm here for you" but it's hard and I don't even know if he ends up actually saying it. Okay bye)

Talking about the sexiness of supermarkets and how they make reptile brain go brrr

Think about alcohol vs smoking. Think about kimmy kim kim (insert european drinking joke here)

Have that get stuck in his head. Kim kimmy kim kimmy kimmy kim kim. Kimster. Kimbo. Kitsy. Kitty. Cutie. Oh god no fuck oh god I need to stop.

He goes home and still rlly wants to smonk

You hide the cigarettes around the house. It feels stupid, and you know you’ll be embarrassed having to pull the Jamrock Shuffle in your own apartment, that you’re a grown adult who could just *buy another box of cigarettes* whenever you wanted to, but you feel like it helps. Drag the killing thing away from the crappy little animal even for a couple moments more, let yourself get tired out like the old man you are below all the disco scaffolding. You can’t really bring yourself to shower, but you drag the radio into the bathroom with you and wash yourself in the sink. You try to be good about it- stay away from the mirror, really lather up and clear away the sweat that’s caked to you throughout the night and morning, feel the warm graze of the water on your skin. You brush shampoo through your hair and work it in in cycles, focus on the humming feeling of the bristles on your scalp, trying not to think of much of anything, just the smell of the cheap powdery soap and of what clothes you’ll wear today, try to settle into a better memory of this instead of picking at the shame you feel about how hard it is for you. ducking your head into the stream of the water in the sink and forgetting everything except the whishing, scratching sounds of cleaning.

Being clean feels good, and being dressed again feels maybe even better (knit sweaters are a revelation- who could’ve known polyester satin wasn’t made for seaside winters), so by the time you walk your way into the Jamrock public library the morning’s incidents are nigh-forgotten. The dry warmth of the old library is a reliable balm- the yellowed fluorescent lighting washing out the rows and rows of slate-grey plastic bookshelves lined up like soldiers over prerevolutionary tile, with its woven edges and dark, jeweled pinwheels of color, stretching out endlessly full of books, reels, and the rare intricate portrait hanging overhead. Before them, long wooden tables dotted with mismatched lamps, flickering in and out of use, occupied by antsy juveniles and sleeping hobos. It feels effortlessly like home, like a shared worldly past that welcomes everybody- and maybe that just means that it's generic and a little overdue for renovations, but you love it as it is.

Shuffling through the tall shelves of books, you weave through mindlessly to find your favorite sections- the history (both common and infra-cultural, with a surprisingly competent collection of industrial works and a predictably miserablly little shelf of homo-sexual underground interest), the art, and the meager offerings of political literature. You can hear your off-tune humming echo back to you somewhat feebly off the high, painted ceiling, done up in some lame facsimile of early Dolorian excess (therriers, noblewomen, forget-me-nots crowding the edges of each filligreed panel, dead-eyed faces in doleful expressions, pale and empty smiling). You've got all of daylight ahead of you, which is more than enough time to browse around as usual before you have to get yourself home and start cooking.

You turn the corner smoothly into the very back of the library, into a wider set of dusty and anachronistic wooden bookshelves-- history trends unpopular, considering the fact that all the books within are horrifyngly outdated due to a miserable municipal budget, maybe that's for the best. There are better places for students to get this information now, like the private library a couple blocks away at the Cycle Universitee, or from library dial-stations tuned in from the south, where the Bibliotheque Nacionelle Des Travailleures is run by Coalition-approved volunteers. The first thing to catch your eye is the pillar of works of infra-cultural expression and documentstion- essays and short stories from New authors, studies and zines on Disco, and of course, the particular political darling of the 20s, the homo-sexual underground.

You've read everything in this section- theory, history, photography- even, notably, the single commercial romance novel, comically bad, about a middle-aged Vespertine businessman travelling north to the harbour where he had experienced his first teenaged love-- and the young, strapping man he gets to know there. (There are boats involved- it's very biblical). All in all, you read it twice,  meticulously rewrote its horrifyingly vague and unsafe sex scenes (in pen, inside. Not like the librarian's gonna check it) and masturbated at your efforts, winning you a very sore wrist and about 30 minutes of crying because you remembered being in a bookshop with Kim in Martinaise while you were remembering what the world was, and then remembered Jean's apartment having a secret stack of equally terrible heterosexual novels bequeathed to him by an ex that you made fun of him for (rabidly, for years). You shudder, now, at the sight of its cracked spine looking you from the middle sill. Its gaze feels hefty and judgemental, and you do not like it.

There are  

KIM CHAPTAAAA

"you'd like him to take care of himself. You'd like to be there to do it for him when he can't"

"He opens the door, and immediately there are a million little things that test you (hell, with that thick-knit sweater he's wearing, any weakness in you would have him writhing on the floor in seconds). The half-up style of his now-so soft looking auburn hair, split across to reveal the pale white of his nape between the raised collar of his sweater, the kind wrinkling of his open smile upon seeing you walk in, the light, jazzy music of the radio backing his belly-deep laugh and the heady smell of incense in the room are all exhilaratingly Harry to you.

What to do with jean:Standalone fic for him?

Starts when he sees Harry with the eyebleed crew and he's the one who goes up to him like "WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING SHIT KID" and harry is like. Oh god oh fuck jean uh let's be... Cordial! Optimistic! (What jean sees is one of his signature pauses but like. Yeah it's the skills talking) and he's just like "oh it helps me stay sober and make friends, I found out about it on the radio🙂" and Jean is like holy fucking shit this is absolutely insane.

            1) bc Harry used to be so repressed he was basically homophobic with his macho act

            2)bc Jean originally didn't believe the amnesia thing but then when Harry genuinely did shit like this and never told him (which, if it was a cruel joke he would've tried to make it very public and obvious and drag jean into it to embarrass him)

            3) because JEAN was his friend and why the fuck does he just. Run off with random people with a radio ad instead

            4) because he's doing so well. He's like, fully at the sort of "this-side-of-pudgy" bear level that's hot enough to get him positive attention over the damage of the alcohol and he's wearing the sort of clothes that show it and he's got all these crew buddies where Jean is stuck with his hellish depression workouts where he sometimes works until he pukes and then feels like shit about self-harming like that. (what he doesn't know is that Harry is basically doing that same exact shit just he's using his swag alcoholic skills to lieeeeee about it. rip)

Maybe harry apologizes in their conversation about the romance novels. Like it blurts out.

eventually add in the previous consideration fic you were thinking of &quot

starting with bitter porno kimbo/viccy catfight bullshit

"no that's pathetic and he'd never go there." dynamic where kim cares quietly and jean is bitchy about Harry

then "no, he's dealt with harry so much already, I can't imagine." so it's all concern for him

and then that backslides into "how could I comfort him? how could he understand my need for comfort? "

we stan a mildly nonaccepted himself Jean so he's like "WAIT UH GAY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS GUY TOO? FUCK FUCK FUCK"

gotta make it panic horny. it's a Dan Gat fic. how would kim look.... yknow......

since the only other guy who's been like that with him has been harry -> third wheel dynamic going to ->

horny ot3 dynamic. old men doting on him because it's his fantasy and he gets to be the pampered one goddamnit

end somehow

THIS IS THE EXACT DYNAMIC WE'RE GOING FOR Jean liked Harry premart and Harry was unbearably machismo repressed homophobic bullshitero man (I need to decide if he was stupid enough to be like AS LONG AS IM ON TOP IT ISNT GAYYYY or smth sex/intimacy related like that maybe he just kinda. ""comically"" hit on Jean or said suggestive shit to him but never fully acted on it) and then he comes back from Martinaise all loyal puppy dog or whatever for Kim and Jean is like "??? OKAY SO I GO THROUGH ALL THIS BULLSHIT AND HE TALKS SO BIG ABOUT LOVING MUSCLE DUDES AND NOW HES GONNA FUCK THIS GRANDPA?" but then he's like self-aware enough to know that's stupid.(Jean's problem is that he looks for wounds on Kim and not Harry, so he's all like "damn this bitch stole my mans when he's actually good...." meanwhile Harry is like Very Obviously Self Harming All The Time and not even really with Kim so often rip)

Harry wants to reach out and ask him about his thing with Kim because he has memories of Jean either being gay or being less homophobic or just having Gay Energy that he was an asshole about or whatever plus it just feels natural to work through shit with Jean but he stops himself because he's like "well DRINKING also felt natural that doesn't mean we should do it..."

maybe they get into it because Jean makes an offhand comment about "stop ogling kim" and harry is like (computer warmup noises) and jean just kinda forces him to spit it out RE: meme description

Harry's whole deal with avoiding Jean is "some things are unforgivable and I'm fairly sure I've done things bordering on that to you for so, so long, and now I don't even know what they were or who I was when I did them, to me that person is dead, and I know then that I can't apologize to you thoroughly, genuinely, and I don't want to insult you by presuming that I ever could, at this point. I don't want to insult you by assuming I can just go back to what we were before, to each other, without an apology or an actual understanding of what went wrong. I can't speak for certain about his mind-my mind- but at least in some part that guy killed himself because of what he did to you, and to everyone around him, sure, but mostly to you. And now I'm here, and it feels horrible to try and go against that and push myself into your life. It feels horrible to see I've done something to you worth killing myself over and then still insist on coming back to bother you beyond the grave"

And Jean's response is "you thought everything was bad enough to kill yourself over! And you're still alive, you're still him, and fuck, yes it'll take a long ass fucking time for me to ever really forgive you, but you were my best friend and you're still fucking alive- I see you every single day, Harry, do you know what that's like? To see your best fucking friend every single day and watch him flinch and try to act like he doesn't exist every single time he sees you? Fuck you and fuck what you wanted before, *I* never wanted you dead, and your little stunt here with pretending you're finally fine and then keeping everyone at an arm's distance is just another, slower grave you're digging" etc etc "if this is the upswing at last, I’d better be there for it.**”

Jean is a frat boy that you do not expect to be a frat boy. He unironically gets along with mack and chester. He's only just started to grow out of it through dealing with Harry's horrible downfall

sequel to geste drole des debutantes but it's just a 3 chapter PWP masturbation fic..... of Kim and Harry after the dinner and then SHOOKETH SURPRISE IT'S JEANGST YEARNING TIME!

Kim trans.... Good for him...

Stroker shit

He wants to fuck Harry basically

     ...slow tease? Or fast and desperate?

Dry kissing

Hair pulling...

Youre hard, and you're wet, and you can't help but think of that smile on his face as you left and you want him to taste it, to get on his knees for what he's done to you and swallow it all down, feels the soft brush of his beard on your thighs.

 Harry also trans... Good for them good for them...

Handkink shit

Wants kim to absolutely wreck his shit

... He's new at this

Slow....

Jean

Jeangst

Want to wreck harry's shit... Mouthfuck stuff maybe

Power bottoming?? Idk

Whoops my hardcore dom revenge fantasy has slipped into a getting bossed around by the guy I thought I disliked for taking away my partner UHH.... LETS NOT UNPACK THAT....

Some idiot makes like a homophobic stupid "ah the fucking lieutants off scissoring or something" comment and then jean is like "oh god what if that but sexual instead"

Gym shower...

Jean has a big dick too bad bitch

When harry du bois ruined his life, thinks satelitte-officer Jean Vicquemare- he might at least have had the decency not to also curse his dick. This shit was weekly and only getting worse, now that the shitkid didn't constantly smell like despair and carrion had scored a threesome with a bartender's manual.

#my writing #in a way! #my fic #long post

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Female Orc x Female Reader (NSFW)

Orc Lady MMA fighter!  This story contains drinking, swearing, professional fighting, and gratuitous smut.  Forewarned is forearmed! 

----

Your family had always been avid watchers of what other humans would consider violent blood-sports.  Modern cage fighting is an art, especially when you’re dealing with someone whose major mode of fighting is submissions and takedowns.  There’s something incredibly thrilling about it, and considering they’re two consenting, sapient adults there’s nothing you feel guilty about when it comes to watching them fight each other.  

Your sister-in-law, your brother’s wife, was having her first professional bout.  She had started working at a BJJ gym when she moved to your city during college, before she ever met your brother.  It isn’t that she had ever thought this is where her life would take her, she started taking classes in fact as a mode of self defense and a healthy physical outlet.  Her being good at it came as a complete surprise to even herself. 

Your brother was out of town on a business trip, a sad fact of life considering his profession and position within the company where he worked.  Finance could be time consuming and thankless, but the paycheck he got from his work meant that Liz could pursue her new dream of going pro.  As her sister now, and considering you’d always wanted a sister growing up, you took it upon yourself to support her whenever your brother couldn’t.  You’d go to her bouts, cheer her on, go drinking when she won and when she lost, iced her bruises.  You loved her like a true sibling.

So, when your brother couldn’t make her first big fight, you were incredibly flattered when she asked if you’d join her instead.  You donned the tee shirt she had made for the fight with her fighter name on it and some sponsors, made sure you looked presentable enough for when you’ll inevitably wind up on camera with her, and settled in for the evening.  Your day started hours before the doors opened, helping her get in the right headspace with music and jokes, helping her stretch out, keeping her calm and centered.  

When the two of you made the trip over to the venue, a huge arena where the local professional basketball and hockey teams played, you were surprised to see people already waiting outside by the athlete’s entrance.  You guessed they were hoping to catch a glimpse of the big names, but you knew enough about how these things were run to know that they wouldn’t arrive until at least a few fights into the undercard.  

Liz’s fight was second to last on the undercard, so the house would likely be packed by that point.  You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not, her placement on the card meant that more people would see her fight and therefore if she’s good enough in the cage tonight she’d get more followers and her pro career would start off on a great note.  That being said, the performance anxiety of your first fight is hard enough you’d assume, if the way she’s been acting the last week is any indication, so making it harder on her by adding the pressure of a bunch of drunk, judgemental attendees doesn’t seem like it would be great.  

The two of you traverse the back hallways, with passes that get you into the behind the scenes staging area.  As one of the few women fighting tonight she was given a semi-private area to warm up and keep limber.  All four of the undercard women were in the visitor’s locker room, although there had been privacy created with the use of moving screens that the maintenance crew had set up to create some relatively spacious individual cubicles.  There was one main card title fight between two women, an orc defending her middleweight belt for the twelfth consecutive time and an upcoming athlete from Russia who was undefeated, those two each got their own private warmup space same as the men on the main card.  

The two of you were the first ones here from Liz’s crew, a fact which amped her up and not in the good way.  “Marcos said he’d be here at three, fuck me it’s already three fifteen, come on.”  You pull her into a hug, smoothing your hands over the french-braided pigtails you’d helped her with earlier.  

“Relax, sis, just relax.  You know how the trains are at this time of year, if he isn’t here in the next twenty minutes I’ll call over to the gym and ask when he left, deal?”  She huffs but nods against your shoulder, hugging you back.  “Breathe with me, okay?  Easy in, and out, nice and slow.  You’ve got this, you’re going to go out there and kick some serious ass, and then we’re going to sit in our nice ring seats and celebrate by getting obliterated on vodka and soda like a normal Friday night.”  

The laugh she gives you, shoving you away playfully, is what you were going for.  “If you think I’m paying for the expensive garbage vodka they have here you’re out of your fucking mind.”  You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling up the side of your tee shirt to show a large-ish hip flask, the one she gifted you when she asked you to be a bridesmaid.

“We’ll have to supplement it with a few expensive drinks, so we don’t raise too many eyebrows, but you know me better than that by now.”  She reaches for it and you swat at her hand, wagging your finger in her face like a caricature of a mother.  “No, bad Lizzy, no drinking before fighting.”  She pouts at you and you can only laugh at her.  “How mature, which one of us is older again?”  

“Yeah yeah, I hate when you’re right.  At least give me some water, you don’t want me in there all dehydrated.  Help, I’m wasting away right before your eyes, dying of thirst.”  She’s comically flopped across her bench, arm slung across her face in despair.  The ‘oof’ she gives when you gently lob her water bottle at her stomach makes your snort out a laugh.  

“Come on, don’t abuse my fighters before their bout.”  Your shoulder is clapped by a huge hand and you turn to find the bright smile of Marcos, Liz’s coach, and his brother Julian her cutman.  Her third corner man won’t be joining you until closer to fight time, coming from his normal day job to help out in her corner as he does in their training ring.  Marcos and Julian are both objectively incredibly handsome men, if a little rough from years of fighting experience.  Tall Brazilian walls of muscle, with tan skin and long curly black hair.  Julian would probably be considered better looking, if only because Marcos has some serious cauliflower ear going and one broken nose that wasn’t quite set properly.  They’re both quite tall and fit, but not really your type considering they’re packing some equipment you’re not into using.  

Marcos gives you a serious look, but still warm.  “You’ve done a good job keeping her head clear and relaxed today, thank you.”  Liz is busy chatting with Julian and getting properly stretched out, and Marcos keeps his voice quiet enough that they don’t overhear.  “It’s going to make tonight go much smoother if we can help her focus on the fight and not everything surrounding it, so thank you.”  You just blush and smile, waving it off.

“She’s my sister, I love her, I want her to go out there and kick some ass.  So, anything I can do to help I’m happy.”  He beams at you, patting your cheek with almost fatherly affection.  

“Good, you remind me of my brother.  We’ll have to start training you to be in the corner with us if you can keep her this calm on a big fight day.”  You laugh, but when he declares he’s serious answer back that you’re absolutely willing, but today is not the day to start.  

The next few hours are a blur of keeping Liz distracted enough that she can slip into her fight-brain as she calls it, and before you know it you’re place in ringside seats reserved for families to watch the bouts waiting for her entrance song.  At the first few bars of ‘Knights of Cydonia’ you stand up and start to cheer.  You’ve got your cell phone out and recording, knowing she’s going to want to see later, and you go wild as she finally steps out onto the arena floor and makes her way towards the cage.  She ignores you as she passes, but you don’t take it personally knowing that she’s got tunnel vision for the door.  

Her opponent Bryn is currently 1-1, a half-orc from a relatively prominent gym in a neighboring state.  She looks intimidating, considering she’s a few inches taller that your sister in law, but where Liz isn’t as tall she’s consideribly stockier, and their reach is surprisingly near equal in terms of measurements.  

You’re sure the referee for Liz’s bout is a half-dwarf, if the insanely impressive braided beard down to his navel is anything to go by.  When his hand goes down between the fighters, Liz and Bryn tap gloves before getting into their stances.  It’s a few seconds of sizing each other up before Bryn goes in, closing the gap.  She sends out a pretty telegraphed jab and Liz blocks it without trouble, answering with a blow to Bryn’s ribs that connects.  Grasping the back of Bryn’s head, Liz tugs down to force Bryn’s face to meet Liz’s knee.  

When Bryn’s head pops back up she’s sporting a cut on her nose, and she’s starting to leak blood down her cheek.  She grimaces at Liz and snarls, you suppose it’s meant to intimidate her but she obviously doesn’t know Liz very well.  Liz just roars right back and goes in for a takedown.  

Bryn, you suppose, is a striker, if her lack of takedown defense is anything to go by.  When Liz goes for her leg Bryn is a step too slow to dodge, and goes down like a sack of bricks onto the canvas.  You cheer loudly “‘atta girl!” and watch with rapt attention as Liz locks her legs around Bryn’s arm.  The grip she has on Bryn’s hand and the way she tugs forces Bryn’s elbow back over Liz’s hip.  Bryn taps, the bell rings.  You scream.  Victory by submission in the first round, not even a minute in.  You’re almost cackling with joy as Liz does a celebratory lap around the ring before being hoisted up by her coach.  

She thanks you in her post fight interview, and you look like a deer in the headlights when a camera gets trained on you and you’re up on the jumbo-tron.  Oh god, not like this.  You smile a little shyly and give an awkward wave before the feed cuts back to your sister in law and you can relax.  When she leaves the ring she grabs you from the seat and pulls you back with them.  “Holy shit!”  That’s about all the two of you can say for the next few minutes as you help her untape her hands and brush out her hair.  She’s changed into more normal clothes and the two of you are back out at your seats for the main card fights just as they’re announcing the winner of the final undercard bout.  

“You were great out there, good fight.  You locked in that arm bar quick like nobody’s business, that’s a natural talent.”  You watch as your sister in law starts to converse with arguably the most gorgeous orc woman you’ve ever seen.  She’s tall just sitting, you don’t even want to hazard a guess at how tall she is standing.  Her long hair is side shaved, and pushed over the top of her head to expose the bare side and her pointy ear.  The cauliflower ear tells you she’s a fighter even before you notice how incredibly muscular she is.  She’s broad with huge biceps and traps, her breasts are a bit small for her frame and she hasn’t bothered with implants, and you want to know if she has abs.  You bet she does.  She and Liz are talking shop, and you’re trying not to stare at this hot, hot orc.  Liz glances at you knowingly, she knows your type, and snags her arm around your shoulders to pull you in over her, introducing you.

“Ushat, this is my sister in law and constant cheer section.”  You introduce yourself by name to Ushat, and she shakes your hand with her huge and calloused one.  She looks like she’s blushing a little when you two make eye contact, so you try to hit her with your sweetest and most affectionate smile, the one that’s melted more than a few hearts in your time.  

“It’s really nice to meet you Ushat.”  She’s definitely blushing now, but she smiles at you gently.  

“If you two want to hold hands you could just say so and switch seats with me.”  Liz smirks at you, and the two of you just now realize how long you’ve been shaking hands for.  You both pull away like the other one is on fire, cheeks hot and stuttering out apologies.  “So Ushat here is the current women’s heavyweight champ.”  You stare over at her with wonder, which makes the green in her cheeks get darker as she blushes harder.

“Ah, yeah, y’know.  Been fightin’ for a loooong time.  Kinda orcish culture.  I’m impressed your sister here was able to take down that half orc so handily.  I think my kind tend to underestimate humans because some of you are very cute and small.”  She smiles a little at you, her impressive tusks flashing in the low light of the arena.  Liz, for what it’s worth, looks incredibly smug.  Self-satisfied barely begins to describe it, she’s been talking about setting you up on a date for a long time but this kind of takes the cake.  

“Alright ladies, I’m going to get a round of drinks.  You two be sitting next to each other when I get back or no more flirting, I don’t want to be between the two of you anyway ‘m gonna get diabetes, you’ll ruin my career before it’s even started.”  She’s jokingly frustrated and shoves the side of your face with the kind of aggressive affection only a sibling can manage.  

Ushat is still blushing a dark green, her lightly mossy skin made dark emerald with it.  She slings one of her huge arms over the back of the now vacant chair where Liz had been sitting.  With her free hand she gestures a little shyly at the now free seat, looking satisfied if a little surprised when you blushingly sidle up next to her.  Your thigh is soft compared to hers, you’re pretty sure anyone is soft compared to her considering how close she’s pressed against you.  The way her stance widens in the chair ensures that you’re pressed together from knee to hip, and she even relaxes her posture some to press up against your side, your shoulder neatly tucked underneath her arm, your head slotting onto her shoulder like you two were made for each other.

Liz’s grin goes almost impossibly wide as she sees the two of you while walking back.  She doesn’t say anything though, knowing how shy you and Ushat have been so far in your interactions she doesn’t want to run the risk of scaring you two apart.  So she passes the drinks around instead and proposes a toast to new friends, the little eyebrow waggle at the end she just could repress.  You snort a little laugh into your cup but take a deep drink, sighing at the light burn of the double pour.  “The bartender gave us an extra pour on top because of how badass I was.”  Liz preens, and Ushat gives her a proud grin.

“Rudolf doesn’t do that for just anyone, so you’ve made a good impression.  Unsurprising!  That fight really was great.”  The two continue to talk shop over you, but you can’t find it in you to mind too much.  You enjoy listening to the deep timbre of Ushat’s voice, and before you know it you’ve finished your drink, topped off by a healthy pour from the flask at your side, and snuggled further into the warm side of the orc next to you.  When they announce the first fight and the first of the two fighters starts to walk out to their music Ushat begins clapping.  She doesn’t pull away from you though, or remove her arm, no she crosses her other arm in front of you to basically pull you into an embrace.  She isn’t giving thunderous applause, just enough to be polite, but it does pull you further against her to the point that you have to brace yourself up with a hand on her side.  

When she stops applauding after the second fighter has made it to the ring you don’t make any moves to pull back.  You keep yourself snuggled into her side, one hand resting on her firm stomach while your head is leaned fully against her shoulder.  You’re definitely getting past the tipsy stage and into the drunk stage, if how affectionate you’re feeling is anything to go by.  The arm Ushat has behind you shifts so that you’re corralled in the crook of her elbow while her hand lifts to thread her fingers in your hair.  She smiles down at you, and you can only grin back up at her.  

The night is kind of a blur, although you and Ushat have gotten to know each other better.  Sometime around the fourth bout of the main card they announce that she’s in the arena, and she’s thrown up on the jumbotron with you still tucked into her arm.  While the majority of you is cut out of the main shot, the camera does manage to catch her pressing a kiss to the crown of your head when she thinks they’ve cut away.  

It’s late by the time the fights are over, the orc having successfully defended her belt once again and declaring herself the greatest.  Ushat is pleased, passing on her congratulations in orcish with her arm still around you as the fighter passes by.  When she stands for the first time that night you realize how huge she really is, the top of your head just barely reaches her clavicle.  She laughs loudly, palming your head and tugging you close again.  “You’re so dainty!”  She sounds amused, pulling your hand up against hers and holding them palm to palm the tips of your fingers only reaching the first knuckle of hers.  “Look!  I can almost close my hand!”

It’s such a smooth move you don’t actually recognize it for what it is until the day after, and when she does in fact close her hand she laces her fingers through yours.  She tugs you around and you follow without protest, her and Liz having become fast friends and Ushat taking Liz to meet some promoters and sponsors.  You feel a bit like arm candy, the conversation mostly above you but you’re happy that Ushat and Liz want you there with them.  It’s nearly five in the morning when you all leave and the three of you are sufficiently trashed.  The stumble back to your apartment is a short three blocks, and Liz takes the pull out couch as she’s used to.  

You’ve stripped off your jeans and shirt, your bra undone and halfway off you when Ushat walks into your room having come out of the bathroom.  You freeze with your bra pressed up against your breasts by your hands but otherwise unsecured, and you can’t help staring at how much smooth and scarred green skin she’s showing.  She’s in a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and black bikini cut panties.  The grin she fixes you with is sultry, her dark eyes burning.  “Don’t stop on my account kitten.”  Her eyes rake over your bare legs and the way your panties hug your form, lingering on the softness of your stomach before moving up your neck to your blushing face.  

You bite your lower lip in contemplation before slowly lowering your hands and letting you bra drop to the floor.  Ushat lets out a low and pleasure growl, almost humming.  She stalks up to you, towering over you and gripping your chin between her thumb and forefinger.  She stoops down to kiss you, and with a satisfied moan you slip your hands up her chest and over her shoulders to cling to her.  Her huge hands caress up the back of your thighs and she takes advantage of your distraction to pick you up and toss you on the bed.  She’s hypnotized by the way your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress, and she brings her hands up to cup them.  Thumbing over your nipples she grins as you let out a whine of pleasure.  

Ushat kisses you again, and the smooth cool surface of her tusks pressed against your soft cheeks.  You surprise her by swiping your tongue along her lower lip first, and she opens her mouth to meet your tongue with her own.  They caress each other, rather than wrestling for dominance, and when you lay back and allow her to explore your pliant mouth she knows it’s willing and not coerced.  

One of her hands continues to grope and your breasts sloppily, moving back and forth with her attention as her other hand pushes down your stomach and under your panties.  You tug your lips from hers to throw back your head and cry out for her.  “Fuck, Ushat!”  She chuckles huskily against your neck when you cry out for her.  

“That’s the idea kitten, don’t worry ‘m’gonna take good care of you.”  When her fingers push between your labia she finds you already wet and waiting, and she snarls against your neck.  “Fuck baby, you been ready for me all night haven’tcha?”  She bites down on your shoulder, chuckling again as your hips buck up into her hand.  “Ushat knows whatcha want baby, I gotcha.”  One of her thick, calloused fingers slowly pushes into your waiting pussy.  She groans at how hot and tight you feel around just one of her fingers.  “Fuck baby, you got a real tight pussy, gonna stretch you out nice and good.”  She licks up your neck wetly, biting harshly at your earlobe as she pushes a second finger into you, angling her hand to rub your clit with her thumb.  You let out a broken cry, tugging at her shirt in order to press against her skin on skin.

In order to avoid having to stop fingering you, she just tears off her shirt, leaving the tatters on the floor nearby as she smashes her lips against yours again.  Your hands grope at her strong back and shoulders before moving around to her front, skimming up to palm her small breasts.  Her dark nipples are begging for your mouth, and as if she knows what you’re thinking she shifts her position just enough to be leaning completely above you, fingers pumping in and out of your soaking pussy.  She groans when you lift your head enough to take one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking gently and flicking your tongue over the hardened bud.  

She moves so her hips are just above yours, her legs splayed between yours and wrapped around your own so that you couldn’t close them even if you wanted to.  She slowly leans down until you’re completely flush with her, held in control as she fingers your eager pussy.  She has you pinned with her weight to the point where you can do literally nothing but moan and accept whatever it is she wants to give you.  The broken sob of her name as she presses a third of her impossibly thick fingers inside of you makes her laugh, satisfied.  She kisses the crown of your head, whispering praises.  “Don’t worry baby, we’ll stop here for tonight, but eventually that cute little human pussy of yours is going to take my whole hand.”  The way you twitch around her at the words makes her chuckle against your hair.  “You like that thought huh kitten?  At least this needy pussy of yours does.”  She shoves her fingers in particularly harshly, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.  

She starts rubbing her thumb over your clit again, and your walls begin to flutter with the stimulation.  “That’s it kitten, cum for me, gonna make you feel so good baby, that’s it.”  You’re panting under her, trying to writhe or buck your hips or do literally anything, but Ushat just chuckles at your shifting muscles pinned under hers.  “No baby just take it, you’re gonna take what I give you kitten.  Be a good girl and cum for me.”  

The way she growls that last sentence in your ear, paired with the endless stimulation of your clit and those thick rough fingers inside you, takes you over the edge.  You cry out her name and tense underneath her, muscles screaming to contract or do anything.  All your body can focus on is the feeling between your legs, considering it can’t do anything else with its excess energy.  You can’t believe when you squirt against her hand, but she just gives a satisfied growl and slowly brings you back down to earth.  

You’re half asleep by the time your heart rate calms down, and you notice Ushat is trying to climb out of bed.  You pout up at her sleepily, grabbing her huge wrist.  “Stay?  Please?  I know this was fast but I was kinda hoping you’d stick around.”  She just grins at you, using her cleaner hand to thumb your cheek with open affection.

“Just gettin you a towel, kitten.  Gotta clean you up.”  She wanders half naked into the bathroom and brings back a damp hand towel to wipe up between your thighs, gently cleaning your labia with the warm cloth.  She tosses the towel across the room into your laundry hamper and crawls back into the bed behind you. She pulls you back against her chest, wrapping you up in her warm embrace and burying her nose in your hair at the crown of your head.  

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep, quickly seems to be the answer.  You wake up to your bed shaking, and you whimper and cling closer to the pillow that seems to be jumping.  It calms down slightly, still vibrating but less destructive.  “Sorry kitten, go back to sleep.”  You crack open an eye and glance up at just the right time to get a kiss on the forehead from Ushat, who stayed the full night with you.  

She’s on her Instagram, posting a picture of the two of you from last night along with Liz.  “Whatcha doin’?”  Your sleepy voice makes her smile gently.  

“Gettin’ some damage control done.  I’m not about to have people accusing me of being ashamed of my girlfriend.”  She flicks over to an article on some MMA site where the still of her placing a kiss to your head ringside is front and center.  ‘Ushat Cruelbeast Spotted Getting Cozy With Fighter’s Sister!’ is the headline, and you snort.  Really?  So uncreative.  “I like you, a lot, I want to date you.  I don’t want people thinking I’m just using you to get under some other figher’s skin.  Which is fucking ridiculous by the way, I mean we’re not even close to the same weight class and never will be, so why would I be dating you to get under the skin of a figher I’d never fight?  Fuckin’ hetero dudes can’t fathom why a human girl might want to date a big scary orc girl.  Or why a girl would want to date another girl at all really.”  

Your laugh makes her laugh, and the two of you are cracking up in bed.  It takes a few minutes to calm down and you find yourself draped over her chest while you rest your chin over her heart, looking up at her earnestly.  “I don’t think you’re scary.  I mean, you’re for sure huge, but you aren’t scary at all.  You know the first thing I thought when I saw you was some variation of ‘oh no she’s too hot, I can’t talk to her, she’s way too hot.’”  She snorts and buries her face into your hair, apparently her favorite thing to do whenever you embarrass her.  

“Come on pretty kitty, let’s get dressed and join your sister for breakfast.  Then, ‘m gonna go home and get changed to take you on a proper date.  And then, kitten, we’re gonna start workin’ on that promise I made you last night.”  Your answering whimper makes her laugh, and she stands while hefting you up over her shoulder.  “Come on kitten, unless you want your sister walkin’ in and finding us like this.”  She emphasizes her statement with a firm slap to your ass, making you laugh.  This might be the best morning ever.

#Female Orc #Fem Orc #Female Reader #Fem Reader #WLW #Lesbian Love #Lesbian Fiction #my writing #exophilia

[amyscascadingtabs]

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 3: even if we’re breaking down

Amy searches for - and gets - some answers, but decision-making turns out to be a bumpier ride than expected.

read on ao3

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february

The first days are always worst.

The first days after the start of another period, another negative test, the first days of knowing that no, it didn't work this time either, are always darkest. There's no trace of the enthusiasm she feels every time there's a positive result on her ovulation tests, no hint of the careful confidence each time her period is a day or two late. Instead, Amy feels both like she's constantly on the verge of tears and like she'll never experience an emotion again. Excruciating pain, then complete numbness. Everything, then nothing. 

 Each month, she wishes for her life to pause for a moment, letting her hide underneath the warm comforter for days without talking to anyone. Each month, it continues without lenience. 

She still has to wake up in the mornings, get herself ready, make sure everyone wears clothes and eats breakfast and gets to wherever they’re supposed to be. She has to get through her workday, filled with assignments and must-dos and complaints and petty arguments, and when she’s finally done, there’s a daycare pick-up and food shopping and a full evening remaining. 

Her life won’t give her a break, won’t give her a chance to retreat into a corner and scream her lungs out in frustration over why her body's not cooperating, why she's not getting pregnant when it happened near effortlessly the last time. She finds herself getting jealous of her two-year-old, who currently handles most of her frustrations by laying down on the floor and screaming until she's red in the face. Compared to the torture of maintaining the illusion that everything's fine and she's not falling into pieces, Amy feels like a couple conspicuous, falsetto anger screams of her own would be quite the relief. 

Adulthood is truly overrated at times.

 She keeps going despite her bitterness and anxiety, because if she stops, everything will fall apart, and if everything falls apart, she has to put it back together. She lets her life continue despite the heaviness in her heart, because it has to, so she forces a smile and curses the fact that for some reason, everyone around her seems to be pregnant or have a newborn.

She doesn't know if it's solely because she’s paying more attention, but she swears they're everywhere. A beat cop in her squad, a witness she helps interview, a stranger next in line to her at Starbucks and a teacher at Leah's daycare, the latter prompting the toddler to ask her first curious questions about where babies come from - specifically, how one got inside her teacher. Amy makes an honest, well-intentioned attempt to give a simplified explanation of two people who love each other very much, but it turns out Leah's major concern is whether or not Miss Edwards ate the baby living inside her tummy and whether or not that means someone could eat her, too.

(“Jake, please stop telling your daughter about how you’ve been friends with a cannibal.”)

(“It's not my fault she picks up on everything!”)

 It feels like a taunt, like the world is laughing at her while she tries to keep it together. She can’t even get a break when she stops by Target on the way to pick up Leah from daycare. She's only picking up socks, some emergency groceries, and cold medicine, but of course, she all but walks right into a display of Valentine’s Day-themed babywear and has to stop herself from standing there and staring at the tiny, heart-patterned, onesies and pacifiers. 

Amy has to remind herself they have boxes of Leah's old baby clothes left in the attic, so she shouldn't have been going too crazy with buying new baby clothes even if she had been pregnant. Even so, she cannot shake the stinging reminder that if there had been a baby on the way, she would have been perfectly able to buy the impossibly soft pajamas with multicolored hearts and a matching hat, and the thought wouldn't have felt deeply, intensely wrong. 

She puts the item back, fast as if it had burnt her.

 There’s traffic on the way to the daycare, enough to make her about ten minutes late and double her stress levels. Her two-year-old might not know the clock, but she’s become easily worried as of late, and the catastrophe part of Amy's brain pictures a devastated child crying about whether her parents are ever coming to get her. She rushes into the building all out of breath from stress and anxiety, only to find out Leah is happily playing with building blocks and shows zero interest in saying goodbye to her friends to go home. Amy decides to spare herself an argument today and lets her daughter play for ten minutes extra while she sits down on the floor to catch her breath. 

 Although Leah’s only a toddler yet, Amy keeps being surprised by the tremendous pride she feels watching this child learn about and slowly take on the world. She watches her communicate with the other kids around her even on limited vocabulary, watches her construct simple towers and laugh when she pushes them over and the blocks scatter, sees her wave goodbye to her friend when another parent comes to pick up one of the kids she was playing with. 

Of all her achievements in life, Amy can’t quite grasp the fact that she - admittedly with some help - created this person who’s becoming more and more her own individual by the day. It’s all moving so fast, each day bringing new surprises and challenges, and it’s all making her increasingly certain their lives would be even more of a wonderful whirlwind with the addition of another child. 

 She’s thought about the possibility of not having one, too. During her most exhausting days, when the scheduling and stressing and ovulation testing feels like a third full-time job on top of the two she already has, she’s toyed with the thought of ignoring it, but she always ends up returning to her original wish. There’s certain guilt to it, a nagging thought in the back of her head wondering if she’s ungrateful. She already has the best kid in the world, and maybe she’s egoistic to want another. She’s struggling even to explain it to herself, how it has nothing to do with ungratefulness for the child she has and everything to do with how she always pictured herself having at least two kids, how it feels like another baby would make their already perfect family that much more perfect. If they’re awesome like this, a fourth member would make them sensational, and if one kid is magical, Amy imagines two would be out of this world.

She just wishes the second one could hurry up already. Beginning to exist, for example, would be a great start.

 She’s vaguely aware of what’s happening in the room, too tired and stressed and in her head to notice much, but she snaps back to reality once Leah stands up and walks over to her, wrapping her arms around Amy’s chest. 

“Sad,” she says, and Amy’s confused because the toddler seemed perfectly fine a minute ago, but then she clarifies. “Mama’s sad.”

Oh.

“Yeah,” she admits, stroking Leah’s hair and hugging her back, feeling her earlier so high heartbeat return to a normal pace once her two-year-old’s in her arms. “I’m a little sad today. That’s okay. Everyone’s sad sometimes.”

“Wait.” Leah squirms out of Amy’s grip, disappearing to the chest of drawers in the corner of the room and finding the one with her picture on it. She pulls out the stuffed animal in the shape of a lion they keep at the daycare for nap-time and comfort, runs over to Amy again, and places the toy in her lap. “Better now.”

Amy wants to cry again, but this time, it’s tears of love, and pride, and gratefulness for this shockingly emotionally intelligent child who she can’t help but wrap in another hug, holding her tightly and kissing her cheeks until she starts giggling. 

“I’m much better now,” she agrees, and Leah shines up. 

“I’m nice!” She points to herself, looking mighty proud, and Amy laughs at the beautiful confidence.

“You are so nice, baby. Do you think we can go home now? I know your dad promised he’d make spaghetti tonight. Can you say spaghetti?”

“Spaghetti!” Leah exclaims, and then she’s out in the hallway and already busy trying to put her shoes on the wrong feet by the time Amy’s stood up.

 Each month her life keeps refusing to pause. No matter how tiring and exhausting it gets at times, she suspects it might be for the best. 

 -  

  For all the things not working out for them within the whole having-a-baby project, the process of finding time to try and make said baby on the right days every month works smoother than Amy expected it to. Sure, it's not the most romantic feeling to have a sense of obligation hovering over them for the specific days, and it brings an odd pressure to it she's not sure she enjoys, but it works. They make time, somehow, and they get all the way until month five of trying before they have to take to desperate measures.

“To be clear,” Amy mutters before Jake's even closed the supply closet door behind him. “I really don’t like that we're doing this here.”

“Yeah, you repeated that about twenty or so times when I suggested it.” He smirks, locking the door carefully. “It's okay. Also, the cameras don't reach into that corner.”

“Still. The whole thing. I was voted -”

“Most appropriate, I know.” The cheeky smile he gives her makes her feel a bit less awful about their decision. “God, I can't believe you agreed to this.”

“You should make sure I don't change my mind, then.”

“Oh, I will.”

He sounds confident, and it makes her snort with laughter because doing this at the precinct feels absurd and wildly inappropriate, but in a way, there's something about them sneaking around - the time-efficacy and detailed planning of it - making her find it kind of hot, too. Hotter than she'd be willing to admit. This baby-planning thing must truly be making her crazy, Amy thinks, but there’s no time to lose and this is not the time for analyzing. 

 She closes the distance between them, cupping his face with her hands as she would for any gentle kiss, only this time, she puts enough force in her movement to press him up against the wall as their lips, then tongues, meet.

It’s clear from the way he gasps, and from the way his hands wave before finding their place on her upper back, that he wasn’t expecting her to take charge like this. It spurs her on, because a flustered Jake is high up on the list of her favorite Jakes, and god, does she love seeing and feeling him react to her in that way. It’s an unambiguous and cherished reminder of how even after eight years, she’s able to surprise him as much as he can surprise her, and if anything, she’s learned exactly how it’s done. 

They're both panting when she lets go, getting worked up in the competitive heat. Amy uses the quick break to get to work on his top plaid buttons and Jake's not slow to follow with her uniform, but she's not letting him take the lead in this game yet. The unbuttoned plaid allows her to pull the collar of his grey t-shirt aside. At first, the kisses she presses to the top of his collarbone and the crook of his neck are light and teasing, but then they turn into sharper biting and he straight-up moans.

If she couldn't feel his enthusiasm before, she definitely can now. It doesn't leave her unaffected; she subtly presses herself even closer to him, and while she's sucking hard enough on his shoulder to leave a mark, his hands are roaming along her back, under her shirt, playing with her belt for a second before she moves his hand away.

“Don't be impatient,” she warns with another sly bite to his neck. “If we're going to do this here, I'm in charge.”

“You're really out to kill me, huh?”

“Yeah, but you love me.” Amy punctuates the sentence with a kiss, feeling him smile against her lips.

“I do,” he breathes as her hands wander down, taking time to trace patterns with her nails along his lower back. “I really, really do.”

 “I stand by this being a stupid idea,” she mumbles when they’re catching their breath, trying to return to their previous states of dress with the help of a phone flashlight in the half-darkness, because of course the lighting in this place is busted. Amy considers it a miracle she could keep herself from having a panic attack thanks to claustrophobia, but she supposes determination and enough distraction are powerful tools.

Jake snickers, fumbling with the buttons of his plaid while she holds the phone’s flashlight for him. “You’re acting like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I did,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. “Doesn’t make it any less inappropriate.”

“It was fun, though.”

“It was.” She kisses the tip of his nose, adjusting his collar to hide the beginning of a red and purple shadow at the nape of his neck. “I suppose even desperate measures can be fun sometimes.”

“Even desperate measures can be fun sometimes, title of your sextape.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

 ~

 march

 “So what’s the verdict for this month?” Jake joins her in the bathroom as she puts the test down to develop. He’s holding two cups of tea and gives her one of them before sitting down next to her, leaning against the bathtub. “Did our crazy workplace rule-breaking pay off?”

“Three minutes, grasshopper.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grins. “But what do you think? Any hunches? Gut feelings? Visions in a dream?”

Amy snorts, taking a sip of the green chai tea. “Certainly no dream visions. I don't know. Maybe, but I don't want to get my hopes up too much. What's your guess?”

“I'm feeling good about this one,” Jake declares, nodding towards the white and blue plastic stick placed on the floor tiles a foot in front of them. “Let's hope I'm right.”

“Yeah. Let's hope.”

 She leans her head on his shoulder as they wait, and his right arm wraps around her back, stroking her hair while they stare at the tiny display window. There's always a curious atmosphere to these moments, before there's been any disappointment and there's still hope of a positive result, and she revels in knowing that until the timer goes off, there's a chance. Until the test has finished developing, there's a possibility of their fourth family member existing inside her - the size of a poppy seed, but existing. 

Perhaps month five of trying could be their month. If not, Amy thinks she might just go crazy. 

 The timer rings, pulling her out of her hopeful dreaming, and she turns it off with a quick tap before reaching for the test.

She was prepared for it. Yet, it feels like a betrayal to see the single line appearing without a trace of another.

“Nope,” she sighs. “Nothing this month either.”

“It's just an early test,” Jake suggests, a trace of hopefulness remaining in his eyes. “You said they're not always accurate that early, and you’ve not gotten your period yet, which means there's hope, right?”

Amy shakes her head. “These tests have been accurate all the other months. This body,” she points to herself, “isn’t pregnant, and apparently, it doesn’t want to be.”

“Come on, Ames. Five months isn't that long.”

“It isn’t?”

“... No? We’ll try again. It’s not a big deal, babe. It's nothing.”

 It’s the same phrase again; the one she’s heard a million times at this point - from Jake, herself, Julian, a friendly stranger on a web forum during a particularly anxious night a few weeks ago. If she hears it another time in the same lighthearted, happy-go-lucky tone the pessimist part of her brain makes Jake’s voice sound like, she’s going to be seriously tempted to punch that person. 

She doesn’t, this time, but she does question it. 

 “When does it become something?”

Jake furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

"Because everyone always says the same thing. One month is nothing. Three months is nothing.”  Amy twirls the negative test between her fingers. “Four months was nothing, either. So when does it become something?"

“I don't think I get it -”

“When,” she inhales, “does it go from nothing to something? Where do you draw the line?” 

“Oh.” He grimaces, taking the test from her and inspecting it for a second before placing it on top of the trashcan. “I actually don't know, babe.”

“I think I'm going to try scheduling a thorough checkup,” she says, deciding it as she speaks it out loud. “Just so we can exclude anything being seriously wrong.”

“Sure, okay.” Jake nods, pressing a kiss to her forehead and holding her impossibly closer. She doesn't protest, because her dismay and dejection are never quite as severe in the safety of his embrace, and although she feels like a failure who keeps being betrayed by her own body, as long as he’s holding her, it’s easier to breathe. “If you think it's going to make you feel better.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, and at that moment, she can't imagine any knowledge being worse than the no man’s land of confusion and desperation she’s begun to feel stuck in. “I think it's going to make me feel better.”

 There’s no reason for them to stay there, cross-legged on the bathroom floor with Jake holding her close and stroking her back without speaking, but neither makes any attempts to move. Moving means having to move on, and though Amy knows they have to and they will, it seems impossible to do so straight away. If Jake is aching to do so, she’s not sure, but at least he doesn’t rush her - he sits there and lets her process until she forces herself to draw back and take a deep breath before standing up.

“It’s going to be okay,” he reminds her when she finally does, and she manages a weak smile upon noting the devotion and steadfastness in his gaze as he says it.

She places her hand over his heart, as has become their little well-ingrained habit and silent love language over the years, and he holds it, rubbing his thumb over hers. “I know.”

At least the two of them are staying intact, she thinks, and allows herself a moment’s gratefulness. 

  - 

  Amy's lived through her fair share of situations where she's been thankful for the fact that her job forces her to practice authoritativeness on a daily basis. She never imagined the process of trying to get an appointment with a fertility doctor to be one of them, but it very much is. 

It takes nine different calls, one forgetful medical secretary, ten requests for her to hold for a quick moment that in two cases ends up being several minutes, two times taking calls inside the evidence locker to avoid being spotted, and one incident of screaming into a pillow in frustration, but eventually, she scribbles down an appointment set for next week at a nearby fertility clinic in her calendar and does a short victory dance out of pure relief. Then Leah spots her doing so and starts laughing, and what was supposed to be a brief victory gesture quickly becomes a smaller dance party and makes an already good afternoon even better. 

Amy goes to bed with a new sense of hope that night. She’s going to go to the appointment, get some shot or supplement to solve whatever little dysfunction is happening with her body, and everything’s going to be fine. For once, she’s certain about it.

 She’s certain about it all the way up until she steps foot inside the actual clinic. 

As positive a picture as she painted this place in her head while doing research, being there is stranger than she’d expected, making her feel oddly misplaced and uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the fact that Jake’s not with her, that their packed schedules forced them to choose between both going to the same appointment and being able to get a time somewhere in the nearest month, that’s making her feel off. He’s sent her a cheerful Good Luck-text with double exclamation points and a trio of heart emojis, and she musters a smile as she replies to it and he sends a bitmoji back, but he’s not there and it’s making her feel a lot more vulnerable than she would in his presence. 

I wish you were here, she writes, and it’s a mere second before he’s written back, me too.

 The waiting room walls are decorated with at least twenty framed photographs of newborn babies. Like a wall of fame, Amy thinks, snapping a picture to send to Jake, but a wall of babies. She wonders if they’re supposed to serve as encouragement, some kind of goal picture, and wonders how smart of a design choice such is for a clinic that could be meeting infertile couples daily. Then she scratches the thought, because it shouldn't matter to her - she's not one of them.

She's going to be fine. It's nothing but a safety check.

She still wishes Jake could have been there.

 “You’ve been pregnant before, correct?” The fertility doctor Amy’s meeting manages to make her feel more at ease. The woman - Dr. Thompson, she introduces herself - can't be many years older than Amy, has light hair and a comforting aura about her smile, and from the furious pace with which she's scribbling on her notepad while asking questions, Amy assumes she's thorough. A good sign, she figures.

“Yeah, I have a two-year-old.”

“How long did it take for you to conceive the first time?”

“A month? Really fast.”

Dr. Thompson taps her pen against the notepad. “So this is the first time you're having trouble with it.”

“Yes.” Amy nods, pressing her nails into her wrist one by one to keep focus. “It seems weird to me, because my mother had eight kids and was 42 when she had her last, so I figured…”

“Genetics isn’t always a guarantee.” The doctor offers Amy an excusing smile. She supposes it should be a calming act, but it has the opposing effect. “And how long have you been trying now?”

“Five-six months.”

“Tracking your ovulation?”

“Yes.” Obsessively, Amy wants to add. 

Dr. Thompson nods, making another note on her pad. “We do recommend couples over 35 to come in if nothing's happening after six months of actively trying, so it's good you're here. I'll ask you a few additional questions, and then we can start with the physical exam. Does that seem okay?”

“Sure,” Amy hears herself lie.

 It doesn't feel okay, not in any way whatsoever. She shouldn’t be sitting here, answering weirder questions about her medical and reproductive history than ever before in her life. She shouldn’t be alone, because Jake should be there to help, answering questions for her when her voice fails and making her feel at ease by holding her hand. There shouldn't be a sense of dread lingering with her, refusing to let go. 

She’s not supposed to be here. 

This should just work. 

 There's a physical exam, which is uncomfortable, and bloodwork, which is fine. There’s a quick ultrasound, and she tries to shake the thought of how the last time she had one, she saw her then-unborn daughter wiggle around on the screen. There are information-heavy brochures on everything from a list of procedures to financing and insurance coverage, a quick run-through of the tests Jake needs to have at his appointment the next day, and then, it’s finally over and Amy leaves feeling yet more confused than before.

 It can take some time for the bloodwork results to come in, she’s informed. At first, she tries to avoid thinking about it, utilizing every accessible distraction to stay sane. She starts preparing an extra slideshow about community engagement for the precinct, takes Leah to a bonus Mommy-and-Me art class which ends in a lot of laughter and a long bath for both of them, and starts binging a new TV show together with Jake in the evenings. She even tries experimenting in the kitchen to make time pass, but after accidentally setting off the fire alarm at 7 a.m. on a Saturday and waking up all her family plus two bitter next-door neighbors, she gives up. 

  - 

  Three days pass. A voice in the back of her head begins to whisper that if everything looked good, surely they should have gotten back to you by now, and she lays awake staring at the ceiling for most of the night.

Five days pass. She googles the costs of fertility treatments on her phone during her lunch break, doing the math first in her head and then with a calculator on a pastel pink post-it note. Jake asks her what she’s writing when he stops by her desk in the afternoon, and she quickly stows away the note in a drawer and tells him it’s nothing. 

Eight days pass. They clean out Leah’s dresser from clothes she’s growing out of, and Amy places at least fifteen items she’s previously wanted to use for another child in the donation pile before Jake stops her. 

Ten days pass. At this point, Amy’s certain something is wrong with her, anxious to get the bad news over with. She checks her phone a million times and hovers with her thumb over the clinic’s number for the entire day, but there’s nothing.

On day eleven, she gets a call. 

 She's in the car, having parked in the precinct’s garage with five minutes to spare when the melodic signal sounds from her pocket and every muscle in her body tenses, every other thought dissipating in an instant when she brings the phone to her ear.

“Amy Santiago.”

“Amy, hi. I hope I’m not interrupting anything - do you have time to talk?” Dr. Thompson sounds upbeat and chattery on the phone, and Amy finds it provoking. She's already prepared for the worst, and cheeriness has no meaning when all she wants to do is to rip off the band-aid. 

“It's fine,” she says, glancing at the panel board’s digital clock. “Thanks. Did the results come back?”

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Thompson rambles, and Amy's stomach twists. “I have your blood work results. Everything else looked good, but your AMH level is a bit lower than I’d like to see it in your age group.”

“My AMH level.” She knows she’s stumbled across the word while googling, but the definition slips her mind.

“It’s a hormone that gives a reflection of your ovarian reserve, so roughly how many eggs you have left,” Dr. Thompson explains, talking slower. “The results look like yours is diminished.”

 There’s the familiar, panicked feeling she’s felt so many times in her life - like someone is tying a rope around her lungs and pulling it. Amy has to keep forcing air in and out of her mouth, telling herself she can’t panic, not yet.

“How low are they?” She asks, and Dr. Thompson tells her two decimal numbers before explaining further. 

“It’s not catastrophic, by any means. You could still get pregnant. You should be aware, though, that a lower ovarian reserve is usually connected to fewer high-quality eggs, so it might be difficult for you on your own.”

The corners of her field of vision are getting blurry, and she closes her eyes to try and focus. Her voice sounds enfeebled in comparison to the doctor’s clear articulation, but she has more questions. 

“Is it anything I’ve done? Is there anything I can do?”

“I would believe it’s random. Your ovarian reserve does get lower with age, but for some, it happens a bit earlier than it should. As for what you can do…” There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, and Dr. Thompson’s tone changes to a graver one that sends a chill down Amy’s spine. “Time is of the essence here. Unfortunately, once this decline sets in, it’ll continue. If you want to get pregnant, I would recommend you start treatment immediately to have the best chances.”

“Do you mean IVF?”

“I believe it could be your best option, yes. Is it something you’ve had time to discuss with your husband?”

“Uhm - no.” She twists the silver wedding band on her left fourth finger, one way and then the other. “ Could we - could you give us some time to decide?”

“Of course.” The cheerful tone returns. “Actually, I would like to see you again in two days to go over this more closely in person and do another ultrasound. Perhaps you could let me know then what you’ve decided and we could discuss how to move forward?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Perfect, then. Take care,” Dr. Thompson chirps, and Amy knows she should return the polite wish, but it’s all she can do to press the red circle and put her phone in her lap before the panic attack hits her full force. 

 She ends up working from home that day. 

Working is a half-truth at best; she does the bare minimum, then spends the rest of the day laying on the bed with the lights turned off and googling feverishly, trying to find out all the information until the medical terms and her anxiety medication makes her dizzy. Jake texts her once an hour to ask if she's okay, if she's sure he shouldn't leave and go take care of her if she's feeling sick, but she waves him off decisively, telling him she's just tired.

Tonight, she'll have to face reality and tell him, but for a few hours, she can lay unmoving in the darkness of their bedroom and pretend none of this is happening. 

She doesn't want it to be. She wants her body to do its thing, get pregnant quickly and naturally and bless her with another beautiful child like it's done masterfully once before. She doesn't want it to be shutting down, doesn't want needles, medications or expensive treatments in order to have a baby. She doesn't want this.

Still, the more she researches, the more it stands clear it's her best option. 

She gets her notebook to go over the costs and insurance options another time. 

 - 

 Jake must truly have been worried about her, because he offers to both cook dinner and clean up the kitchen by himself. Amy puts Leah to bed, feeling less heartbroken when the toddler chuckles heartily at the nighttime stories they’re reading and falls asleep clutching the beloved stuffed lion. She stays for a few minutes after Leah drifts off, sitting on the carpet wondering if anything on Earth looks more peaceful than a sleeping child, and leaves first when she feels tears threatening to form at the thought of whether she’ll ever get to hold her own sleeping newborn again. 

She has to talk to Jake.

 She finds him standing at the kitchen sink, cursing violently over how impossible it is to remove burnt rice from a pot. She kisses his cheek and tells him to let it soak in soapy water for a while, and he grumbles something about wanting everything done so they can focus on relaxing for the rest of the night, getting a chance to watch Jeopardy! and snuggle without anything to stress them out. She has to close her eyes and clench her fists before saying the words she’s been avoiding the entire day - the words to make it all real. 

“I got a call back from the fertility doctor today.”

“Uh-huh.” His tone is unsuspecting, but he raises his eyebrows when he sees her tight-lipped expression. “What did they say?”

“I think we need to talk.”

“Oh.”

 She sits down as she goes through what was said in the call, staring at the dark wood of their dining table when she can’t make herself look right at him. She goes through each point, patiently replying when he asks for clarification and telling him about the research she’s done, what conclusions she’s drawn about their best options. He nods slowly as she speaks, and though Amy considers herself a master at interpreting Jake Peralta’s facial expressions after nearly eight years in a relationship with him, he’s unreadable to her at this moment. 

 “So…” She’s braiding her fingers again, trying to keep her hands occupied with something other than picking at the skin of her fingers until they bleed. It’s already happened once today. “Long story short, they want to know if we’re doing IVF or not. And they want to know in two days.”

“Okay.” Jake sighs. “Well… we’re not, are we?”

She looks up at him. “What do you mean? Of course we are.”

He blinks. “We are?”

“Yeah?” She scrunches her forehead, and he gives her a look she recognizes from hundreds of interrogations when a witness has said something unexpected and he’s calculating whether or not he thinks they’re telling the truth. “We have to do IVF. It’s my best chance to pregnant. Our best chance to have a baby.”

“Do we have to, really? They said you could get pregnant naturally. You mentioned those supplements?”

“IVF is likelier by far. It’s the best option.”

 He opens his mouth as if he’s on his way to say something, then closes it, turning around and starting to scrub at the rice-stained pot again. 

“Look, I don’t love it either.” Her voice is sterner now. “I’m not exactly hyped about shooting hormones into my stomach with needles, but it’s our best shot. What’s the issue?”

“The needles you mentioned? The money we don’t have unlimited resources of? The time we have even less of?”

“We’d solve those things! I’m a lieutenant, insurance could pay for a couple of cycles - I already looked everything up. ”

“Of course you did,” he says, but it’s not with his usual fondness - he’s shorter, almost colder when he speaks. “Fine. But it might not even work, you know?”

“It’s at least more likely to!” She notices herself raising her voice, and tries to adjust it, thinking of their daughter sleeping a closed door away. Leah can’t wake up to this - Amy might never forgive herself if it happened, and she knows for certain Jake wouldn’t. 

“More likely isn’t a guarantee.”

“What’s the point you’re trying to make here, Peralta?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, letting go of the dish-brush and pot and giving her a tired look. “IVF is such a process. It’s a huge deal.”

“So exactly like having a kid, then.”

“It’s more than that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

 Jake puts his elbows on the counter, running his hands through his hair with a sigh. 

“Just… if we’re going to go through a whole medical process to put another human on this world when we’ve already done it once, I feel like you have to be so confident you want to? You can’t have a single doubt. I watched Charles and Genevieve try to do it before they adopted Nikolaj, you remember?” She nods. “It always seemed so freaking tough to me. Like, if you’re going to do that, you have to be willing to give it your everything.”

“And you’re not?”

“I… I don’t know, Ames. I’m sorry.”

 He’s throwing unexpected, verbal bricks at her. She’s never known how to react when his opinions oppose what she believed they would be, she gets defensive by instinct, and he won’t ever let her forget the time she turned to an honest modified Lincoln-Douglas debate. They both know they can’t do that now - with time and experience, casual and loving conversations have grown a much-preferred method for dealing with opposing opinions - although Amy can’t deny her current temptation to rig up two debate stands in their living room. 

It feels like an ironic repeat of the fight they had back then, yet it’s new. It’s common and uncommon ground all at once, history and present day. 

She’s started picking at the skin of her right thumb again, scraping at it with her index finger. Jake’s watching her with worried eyes, but he doesn’t stop her.

 “Are you saying you don’t want to have a second child?” It’s a poisonous question, she knows, but asks it anyway.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he mumbles, and his feigned nonchalance provokes her. 

“Then what the fuck,” she says, putting emphasis on the expletive, “do you mean?”

“I mean that if you came with a positive pregnancy test right here, tonight, then I’d be one hundred percent in. I’d be ready. I’d be over the freaking moon, and so excited to love another baby the way I already know I can love one.”

“So what you’re saying is if I could simply get pregnant, you’d be up for it,” she sneers, scorching frustration flooding her as she interprets his poorly articulated sentiment. “Cool. Well, newsflash, it’s what I wish, too! But clearly, I can’t.”

“That’s not what I’m saying -” Jake groans. His cheeks are flushed scarlet as he fights to find his words, but she can’t bring herself to feel an ounce of sympathy for him. “I just don’t know how to feel about us having to pay a bunch of money, do an advanced medical treatment and be stressed out thanks to it, if there’s still a risk it won’t work. It feels wrong to me, Ames. I would love another baby so much, but I don’t know how to justify prioritizing it over Leah, or us, or focusing on the family we already are.”

There’s a rational part of her head somewhere telling her to calm down, not to put words in his mouth like a self-fulfilling prophecy, but that rational part is getting increasingly quiet for each sentence they exchange. She finds herself glaring at him instead, the man she loves most who can’t seem to understand her sometimes, can’t seem to understand how much this is breaking her or how she can’t give up this dream without ensuring they’ve tried it all. 

Something breaks when he mentions Leah. The implication, the mere suggestion this would be more important than the child she’d go through hell and back to keep safe and happy, is like a seething spear piercing through her, ripping a tear in a shield she thought was impenetrable. It sets off something instinctive, more than defensive, something that’s been part of her since the first time she felt her daughter move inside her.

 “Are you trying to say I love my daughter less because I want another baby?” She spits out the words.

“No! Oh my god, no, I swear I’m not.” Jake looks shaken, blinking a few times like he’s not sure what’s happening. “All I want is for you to be okay, and this is clearly stressing you out like crazy, I don’t want it to get worse.”

“Yeah, I wonder why that is. It’s not like my reproductive system is trying to shut down several years in advance, or something. Who’d ever be stressed about that?”

“Ames.”

“I don’t want to hear it. I really, really, don’t want to hear it.”

 She knows it’s a bad idea. The right choice would probably be to stay right here and have a calm and collected conversation to work out their respective issues with the decision they’re facing, but instead, the instinct that she needs to get away overpowers her rational thinking. She stands up without pushing in the chair, quickly grabbing her phone and keys, and before Jake has time to ask what she’s doing, she declares it. 

“I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I need to be alone for a moment. Don’t follow me. Please.”

“Wait, what the hell?” He scrunches his forehead.  “Obviously I can’t. Will you be back?”

She sighs. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Amy… don’t do anything stupid!”

 It may be an insignificant detail in the sea of irrational actions she’s taking, but at least, Amy feels a sense of pride that she doesn’t slam the door on her way out.

 -

 Even in their Brooklyn neighborhood, she expected fewer people to be out at this time - it’s late, or so she thinks. A quick glance at her wristwatch tells her it’s not even nine p.m. yet. It felt like she spent years inside their apartment, dealing and worrying and last but not least fighting with the one person she most hates fighting with, but for the outside world, it's a normal Wednesday evening. She's jealous of them.

 She walks slowly - too slowly to be in Brooklyn - and stops when she reaches the small park near their house. There are no kids left here at this time, only a group of teenagers hanging out over on the swings and smoking. Amy sits down on a bench a safe distance away from them, thinking that right now, it's a shame she stopped smoking. She could have needed a cigarette, but even the nicotine patches are but a memory after she quit cold turkey during her first pregnancy.

She puts her head in her hands instead, inhaling and exhaling in and out in an imagined square until her breathing stabilizes.

 She shouldn't have left, she knows. It's an unfair and immature decision beneath her usual professional ways, cold-hearted and mean towards Jake and even towards Leah, but she couldn't imagine staying and pretending what he was saying didn't affect her. Somewhere deep inside, she understands his skepticism, but she's not sure he understands her desperation or the helpless feeling of knowing her body is working against her. That helplessness overpowers all her hesitation. She's never been one to give up on dreams easily, and definitely not before giving her everything and exhausting every last option. Jake knows that about her. He should understand.

 She picks up her phone, surprised when the only text she sees is a single I'm sorry. She ignores it, going into her contacts instead and calling another one of her most used numbers.

 Rosa picks up on the second signal. 

“Amy?”

“Hey, Rosa.” She tries to keep a normal tone, but her voice ends up wavering anyway. 

“What’s happening?”

“Can I come over? Watch a Nancy Meyers-movie and drink tequila?” It’s their years-old routine, established during the god-awful six months they both had their partners in witness protection and each other as trusted confidantes. It’s been a long time since they last arranged one, but if she’s ever needed one since, it’s tonight.

There’s the sound of someone moving at the other end of the phone, a mumbled apology before the background noise disappears. “Why?”

“Jake and I had a fight,” she mumbles, wondering why things feel so much more real once you say them out loud.

“Okay.”

“I left.”

“Uh-huh. Wait,” Rosa stops her, suddenly halting. “You left? Like, straight-up walked out? What the hell? Did he do something?”

“No, no - oh my god, Rosa, it’s Jake.”

“Then why’d you leave?” 

“We disagreed on a thing.” Rosa hums, urging her to continue. “I don’t think he sees my perspective. Or understands it.”

“Santiago,” Rosa sighs, and Amy can tell there’s serious advice coming.  “Look, I’m not going to tell you how to solve your fights, but - this is you and Jake. Sure, you don't always agree on everything, but that man loves you so much it’s nauseating, okay?”

“I guess. I mean, I know.” 

“Like, you two have a freaking toddler, which should be the death of all romance, and somehow you’re still sickening.” Rosa says the last words with a bit of a groan. “If I were you, I’d go home and try to explain my point. Calmly.”

Amy snorts. “Since when have you encouraged people to solve a fight calmly? I thought insults or threats were your style.”

“I said if I were you, not me. Amy, just hear him out. Have a proper conversation with him, and explain your side of… whatever you guys are fighting about. If you’re still mad after, you can come over.” 

“Okay,” she whispers, secretly relieved someone else made the decision for her. “Thanks, Rosa.”

 “Anytime,” her friend replies, and then grunts. “No, nevermind, not anytime. I’m not your relationship coach. But sure, you’re welcome, I guess.” She makes another noise of discomfort. “Text me an update.”

“I will. Thank you.”

 Rosa hangs up on her, and Amy balances her phone in her hand. There are no more texts. Jake’s giving her time, she guesses, letting her cool off like he’s learned to do the few times in their relationship when squabbles and bickering have turned to actual disputes. 

She’s barely been outside for twenty minutes, but the bad conscience is kicking in hard, especially after Rosa’s advice. She needs to explain her side in a calm and collected manner, and they need to decide how to move forward, together. As much as she wants to take full control of the situation and put her body through whatever it takes, as desperate as she is to know they're doing something, it's a decision she can't make alone - because she isn’t alone.

She may be frustrated and disappointed and a little bit scared, but she's not alone.

She texts him she’ll be back in 10 before she starts walking. When he doesn't reply, she walks faster. 

  -

  The first thing she notes upon returning is the episode of Doctor McStuffins playing on their television. She could recognize those melodies and the exaggerated upbeat enthusiasm of all characters’ voices anywhere, and for a fleeting moment, she wonders why Jake would be watching the hysterical children's show on his own before she realises he's half-laying on the couch with a seemingly asleep Leah in his arms. Their daughter is wrapped in her duvet like a burrito, her face slightly red like she’s been crying, and Amy’s bad conscience gets impossibly worse.

“You came back,” Jake notes, and she can read the relief on his face. 

“Yeah. I texted you.”

“My phone is in the kitchen,” he explains, pointing to Leah. “This one woke up five minutes after you left. Screaming and crying like crazy and could barely talk. Nightmare, I think? Anyway, it was heartbreaking.”

“Oh, baby.” Amy sits down next to them, stroking Leah's back through the duvet. “I'm sorry I wasn't there.”

“It’s fine, she didn't notice.”

“I meant I'm sorry I left.”

He looks away. “It's okay.”

“It isn’t,” she assures him, and he gives her a small shrug. “I should have stayed and explained it better.”

“Well, yeah.” He looks back at her with a careful smile. “But I’m sorry, too. I know it’s not the same for me.”

“It’s not your body it’s happening to.”

“No. No, it’s not.”

 Leah whimpers in her sleep, and Amy scoots closer on instinct, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. The child makes a new, softer, noise at that, leaning towards her.

“Do you want to hold her?” Jake whispers, and she nods. “I haven’t moved my legs in forever - thanks.”

Their daughter blinks a few times as he lifts her to Amy’s lap instead, opening her eyes for a second, but then she closes them again and rests her head on Amy’s chest. 

Amy finds herself guilty of doing the same thing she used to find other parents weird for raving about, burying her nose in Leah’s newly washed hair and sniffing the top of her head, but it stands true - nothing smells better than your own baby, not even when they’re old enough to be walking and talking. These kinds of snuggles aren’t a daily occurrence anymore, and she fears the day they’ll be non-existent. She knows how precious the time with a newborn is, and although she’s itching with excitement for every experience to come, she can’t make herself accept the thought of those days being gone forever. Not yet.

 Jake’s hand is playing with Leah’s hair, twirling the subtle curls around his fingers and softly massaging her neck. They’re both so focused on their daughter, Amy’s taken aback when he asks her a question.

“Are you totally, totally sure you want to do IVF?”

“Yeah,” she admits, not a moment’s hesitation. “I know it’s tough, but… I want this so bad. I need to feel like I have some form of control over the situation - I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t try everything.”

Jake nods slowly, moving one hand to intertwine with hers, and she thinks she can feel the tension between them fade with his touch. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. If you’re willing to go through that, if you think it’s worth it for you, we’ll do it.”

 Part of the weight is lifted off of her shoulders like a block of granite, but a few doubts linger.

“I thought you weren’t sure if you wanted another kid,” she remarks, thinking of his comments of I don’t know how to justify prioritizing that, but he shakes his head.

“I’d have all the kids if they’re yours.” He presses a kiss to the nape of Leah’s neck. “It’s not about that. I would love another kid so, so much.”

“So what is it about?”

Jake grimaces. “I’m scared of the process, Ames. I heard way too much about it when Charles and Genevieve were trying, and it took up their whole life and relationship for so long. I love our life as it is. I’m… scared it’d break us, I guess.”

“I know. But I think if I always wanted another kid, if I knew we could have done more and we didn’t try - that would break us, too. It would break me, at least.”

He nods again, squeezing her hand tight and lifting it, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “We’ll make sure it doesn't happen, then.”

 She smiles wide, and without a word, Jake snuggles into her side when she moves to make space, head resting on her shoulder and legs crossed over hers. The three of them are a warm, intimate family cocoon, and Amy thinks that if there’s anything better than watching Jake trace faint circles with his fingers on Leah's upper back, making the child smile in her sleep, it's that he manages to press soft kisses to her own neck at the same time. She has half a mind to compliment him on the multi-tasking, but she's too relaxed to speak.

 The kisses stop when he asks her another question, and her eyes reluctantly flutter open.

“Are you sure we can afford it, though?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not optimal.” She thinks of her beating heart when she wrote down the numbers, trying to work out how much their insurance could cover.”But we can afford a couple attempts before reevaluating.”

“We’ll get it in the first.”

“Maybe,” she mumbles, hesitant. “You forget this stupid body wants to shut down now. Or, well, its reproductive system.”

He looks up at her with a pained expression, shaking his head. “Please stop talking about it like that.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” he says, and part of her knows he’s right, she shouldn’t be talking about it that way, but another part feels too betrayed by her body to care, so she shrugs. “I’m sorry I made it sound like you would prioritize this over Leah, by the way. Not fair.”

“No, it wasn’t. You know it’s not about that.”

“I do. I’m sorry.” 

Amy nods, squeezing his hand. She can feel her eyelids getting heavier, the day’s exhaustion returning at full force, and she lets out a wide yawn. It's been a long day, to say the least, and all she wants is to close her eyes and go to sleep in this safe haven with her daughter snuggling on her chest and her husband resting his head on her shoulder. The two of them together are a million times better than any heated or weighted blanket, and having them both there is making her anxiety finally, finally ease up for a while.

 “I’m coming with you to the next appointment, so you know. And all the other ones.” Jake’s voice is a warm whisper close to her ear when he speaks again, and she hums her understanding.

“You don't have to come to everything.”

“I'll be trying to,” he assures her. “I’m sorry for being so questioning about it. I just hate seeing you suffer, and this whole thing has already been getting you so down. I guess I'm scared IVF would make that worse if it didn't work out.”

“It might,” she admits. “But I don’t want to keep going like this, either. It’s too frustrating. I need to feel like I’m actively doing something, especially now.”

“I know. Like I said, I’m sorry I was so skeptical.”

“I’m sorry I walked out.”

“I love you.”

She cranes her head to kiss his forehead. “I love you, too.”

Leah whimpers again and stirs in Amy’s arms, regaining her parents’ full attention only to return to her previous relaxed state a short moment later.

“Should we keep her in our bed tonight? In case she has another nightmare.” Amy’s suggestion is mostly out of concern for her daughter, but a little bit out of her own unwillingness for the treasured cuddles to come to an end.

“One condition,” Jake grins. “When we have another baby, we’re getting a huge bed.”

For the first time that day, she laughs. “Deal.”

 ~

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction #iwthwy #i just formatted 9k jesus christ

[diegoh4rgreeves]

Sleepover

Story Summary: A domestic Diego Hargreeves and reader are married and have a daughter together. Her name is Grace and she’s sleeping over at her cousin Claire’s house for the night. The busy couple take advantage of their free night with some intense sex...

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Female Reader

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 1,836 words

Warning: Smut (specifically mommy/daddy kink), fluff, swearing

A/N: I’m not usually someone who likes the mommy/daddy kink. I thought this would be cute for a married couple with a kid though. Hope you all like it!

“Mommy! Where’s my knife?” a high-pitched squeal erupts the room.

The room is small and messy. Toy weapons are all over the floor and the bed isn’t made. You tell your daughter, Grace, to clean her room before going to her cousin Claire’s sleepover tonight.

You sigh. You wonder how your daughter has the nerve to put off cleaning her room all day. Now she’s packing up for the sleepover. Her backpack with the Umbrella Academy logo has some of her things inside it already. “Grace sweetie, you could find your toy if you clean your room first!”

“No!” Grace yells out.

You take a deep breath. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to!”

“Well, Grace,” you begin. “Life isn’t about doing what you want. You have to clean up after yourself, okay? Someday I won’t be he—"

Your husband, Diego Hargreeves walks in and clears his throat to interrupt you.

Your family upbringing isn’t the best thing ever, nor is it the worst. Diego, on the other hand, has never met his biological mother. Claire is the daughter of his adoptive sister, Alison. He was raised by his robotic mother who he was really close with, unlike his neglecting father. Diego’s mother is who his and your daughter were named after. He is very sensitive when it comes to telling his kid she’ll be on her own someday.

You nod respectfully to Diego as a signal for him to speak to your child. “Now Grace.” Diego crouches to her. “If you listen to mommy, you get to go to Claire’s sleepover, okay?”

The rebellious child stomps her foot, pouts, and crosses her arms. “No!”

Diego smirks. “Can you do that? I’ll take away your toys if you can’t.”

She groans one last time before picking up her toys and tossing them in the large toy bin.

Diego put his arm around you and kisses your temple with his warm lips. You smile from the tingle his kisses still give you. You lean your head on his shoulder and he rubs your back. You both watch your daughter clean her room and then make the bed.

“I found it!” Grace exclaims. “Mommy, I found my knife!” Grace runs over to you as she holds her toy with both hands.

You chuckle and crouch to Grace to give her a hug. “You see, sweetie. This is why cleaning up is important. You can see where your things are! Do you understand now?”

Grace let go of the hug and she nods. “I understand.”

“Good.” You kiss the top of her head. “Now let’s go pack.”

 -

"I miss her already.” You just dropped Grace off to her cousin’s house. You put your choice of drink down on the coffee table.

Diego and you are cuddling on the living room couch. Diego let one arm hang out the ledge of it. He’s holding out a can of beer. “I miss her too.” He leans in and whispers to you in a hot breath, “Just think of how I’m going to screw your brains out tonight though, mama.”

You giggle as he playfully munches your ear and growls. Your flap your arms, and you tell him to stop.

“Make me…” he purrs.

You grab his face and give him a hard kiss. He tastes like beer, and his scruff scratches your face. You let go and you look at each other. You want to keep the play-fight going. Instead, you can’t help but to smile at each other. “Gosh, when was the last time we had the house to ourselves?” You lean on Diego’s chest and put your arm across his chest.

He puts his free arm around your neck. He tilts his head. “I actually don’t know… Before we had Grace?”

You smirk. “Yeah, that was a looong time ago.”

“She’s such a blessing.”

“Yeah, she is.”

You both take a moment before looking at each other and pressing your lips together. “She’s so smart, like you,” you said in between a kiss.

“And she’s so pretty…just like you,” Diego smiles. He put his beer next to your drink on the coffee table.

“The fact that she worships you… A girl who loves her daddy.”

Diego releases you and gives you a serious look. “Do you also love daddy?”

Chills ran down your spine when he asks that. “Mhmm…” You blush.

He smiles with satisfaction and pulls you closer to him. He signals for you to straddle his lap, so you do. “Well, I love mommy…” He whispers in your ear. “She works so hard and is such a good girl…”

You can’t tell if Diego is expressing a mommy kink or BDSM, or both. Whatever is his sexual mood tonight, you like it. At least it’s a break from all the quickies before getting your kid ready for school. “Aww, well you’re just such a good obeying boy yourself.” You giggle and moan as you plant another kiss on him. You thrust him. He moves his hands from your waist to your butt. He squeezes one cheek. As you gasp from this, he twirls your tongue which tastes fresh of your drink. He also rubs your back with his free hand.

“Mommy, can we play here?” His deep voice arouses you so much when he says that.

“Of course, sweetie.” You smile in the kiss. “Anything you want…”

He smiles back. He likes you playing along with this. He plays with the hem of your shirt. “Can I take this off?”

You moan and lift yourself to his bulge. “Yes, please.” You touch his bulge with your clit and grind on him. He kisses you harder. It pleases you how excited he is so that makes you grind faster.

He lifts your shirt. You assist him in taking it off by pulling your arms up. He let the shirt fall beside you on the couch. You lean in and give him multiple hard kisses. He slides his hands underneath both cups of your bra and he fondles your breasts. You moan and unclip the back of it. You throw it across the room.

He salivates when he gazes your breasts. He puts his head down and helps himself to licking one of your hard nipples in circular motion. He pinches the other one. Then he shoves his mouth in the same breast he was licking. You tilt your head back and move your breasts towards him. He is so concentrated on this.

You dry-hump him again to get his attention. This gets him to take off his shirt. He reveals his muscular torso which you so badly want to lick. You put your head down to lick his chest. You look up at him. He’s smiling over your eagerness at his body. You smile back. Then you come back up to kiss the tip of his nose. You also pat his hardness, which gets him to unbuckle his pants. “Can’t keep mommy waiting…” You whisper. You can’t believe what you just said. Maybe this mommy kink is going better than you thought it would.

“Sorry mommy…” He lays you down on the whole couch and nuzzles you as he pulls his pants down and reveals his hard cock. He towers over you with his deep stare. He pulls your panties down to your ankles and stays down there. He spreads your legs and lays himself in between them. “Is mommy ready for her spa treatment?”

Your face gets hot when he says that. This freeing experience really does feel like a luxury. You blush and nod.

Suddenly he licks your clitoris and stuffs two fingers in you. You gasp. He pays no mind to your shock as he rapidly fingers you and he sucks on your clit. You thrust on his face. He puts in 2 more fingers which makes you yelp. You like it though. You tell him to keep going, so he does. He pushes his fingers in deeper.

Then he comes back up and gives you one last deep kiss before getting a condom out of the pocket of his pants on the floor. He looks at you and rubs himself before sliding the condom on. He slowly slides inside you and your wetness. You are so wet from this kink and open from 4 fingers in you just a moment ago. His entrance goes smoother than you both think it would. He takes a chance on thrusting fast in you. You look up at him with your mouth hanging. He looks at you with as much intensity.

He rubs your clit up and down with the tip of his index finger. You let out a thrust. He stops you and whispers, “Mommy needs a break. No more work for mommy.”

You moan and say, “Okay, sweetie. Do what you must.”

He raises his eyebrows. He really likes you playing along. He wasn’t sure how you were going to react to this new approach to sex earlier. He holds your wrists down and thrusts harder this time. “You just sit and relax, mommy. I love you.” He pants as he thrusts hard and fast. He looks as focused on this as he is when he’s boxing at the gym. You love watching him box at the gym…

You are shaking, and your loud moaning is in an odd rhythm. You call out Diego’s name as you grab your breasts and pinch your nipples. You suddenly tremble, and you roll your eyes. You clench inside him and he groans as he feels you press hard against him. He pulls out and jerks himself as he watches you orgasm. You call out his name multiple times, and you breathe out the first syllable of his name in the last call. He straddles you and he aims for your mouth as he rubs himself again. You open wide and catch as much of his semen as you can. Some bits of it falls on your shoulders which arouses and finishes him.

You pant and try to catch your breath. You look at Diego before you lean towards him and softly kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he coos. “Also, I got us dinner reservations tonight…”

You gasp. “Is it at that one fancy place we always pass on the way to get groceries?”

He laughs. “Yeah, that one. Our dinner’s in an hour, so how about we take a shower?”

“Diego… You’re a naughty boy tonight… Round 2?”

He raises his eyebrows at you. “If you want… mommy…”

You giggle. “Thank you for the spa treatment.”

“It’s open all night… We just gotta have a dinner break.” He grins at you.

You chuckle. “That’s totally fair.” You put your hand out for him to help you up with.

Instead of helping you up, he puts you over his shoulder. You let out a yell and a hysterical laugh. He spanks you from behind as he walks you upstairs. He knows what mama likes…

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy fanfiction #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #tua #tua smut #tua fluff #tua fanfiction #tua imagine #tua imagines #the umbrella academy diego #tua diego #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves smut #diego hargreeves fluff #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves imagines #david castaneda #david castaneda smut #david castaneda fluff #david castaneda imagine #david castaneda imagines #david castaneda fanfiction #diego hargreeves fanfiction #mine

[thinkinboutkiribaku]

part I,

part II

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗'

"So, Bakugo-kun~~ my golden child, prodigy amongst my mistakes, missed you so much ; could you sign here, here and here. Use your cutest handwriting, it's gotta looks precious." Ashido blinked too much.

"The fuck are you talkin' about ?" Katsuki frowned his brows, expecting the sneakiest with her. "Wh-", when he noticed that what she had spread on the desk were shirtless picture taken (stolen) from their last sleepover ; his vein popped.

"Well, because I already accepted the money and sold these to the girls‎ ―that would be a fraud Bakugou. Ah! Did I forget to mention it ? " She bopped her finger playfully against Katsuki's nose, smiling. "Woopsie~~ ".  The sigh of her tongue sticking out aggravated his reaction so much. Only the affection-needy hold of Kaminari's arms around his shoulders prevented him from throwing fists.

"Whaaah, Bakubrooo, my man ! I missed you y'know ? Without you there's a never ending hole in the gang !" he exaggeratedly whined, holding onto tighter.

"He especially missed you 'cause he has no brain and you're the squad's brain ; Kaminari always goes dunce when you go."

"But I named you substitution brain."

"Dude !! You were out for a whole month, how do you expect me to weight the gang's dumb chaotic energy over my shoulders ?? For, I am only a mortal man," Sero opened his trembling hands in front of his face, surely prone to disastrous flashback. "Kaminari's a whole mess but even Kiri's started losing it these last few days ! Bro, please tell me you're staying for good this time !"

"He's stuck with us now, can't go back!" Kirishima leaped over Kaminari's shoulders, his weight forcing Katsuki to bend even more with his friend's burden.

"Bastards, you heavy shit-"

"The only way to get a man to stay, I see…" Sero mumbled, letting himself fall over him, alongside the others.

Following the vibes he's been giving off, Katsuki was never one to appreciate people's warmth permeating his precious personal space. But this didn't feel that much like intrusion, rather it felt just like coming home ; being enveloped by that kind of affection, he kinda missed it.

Still, Katsuki was never one to appreciate having his precious personal space ridiculed.

Thus he gave them extra time to savor and laugh their fucker's ass off before exploding and sending them flying. He was back after all, and that was how their dynamic always worked.

"So ? Finally regretting coming back ?"

"Definitely ! How can someone have that much stamina and shout non-stop for hours ? Mic-sensei ?? I can't !" Kaminari whined, spreading his arms all over his desk, empty paper sheets falling on the ground.

"I wasn't talking to you", Sero elbowed him. "And don't whine, you slept for half the hour, you coward."

"I kinda like Mic's lessons, they're easier to follow because of his voice. I don't get how you can sleep through it." Kirishima frowned.

"My sweet diligent child", Mina cuddled up behind the red hair, tightening her arms around his shoulders. "Always making mama proud."

"I thought Katsuki was your favorite child ?"

"He's too rebellious, I can't pamper him too much.", she tried ruffling Katsuki's hair, but even with his eyes closed he flicked her hand, "My best and yet worst creation... At least I can sell his ass whenever."

"Don't you dare bitc-!"

"Kirishima-kun, there's your twin waiting for you !" An extra classmate called from the door. She was next to a stranger that looked nothing special, waving dumbly from the corridor. Glaring at his face, he appeared as uninteresting and dim-witted as possible in Katsuki's eyes.

Yet, he noticed how eagerly Kirishima ran over towards that stranger fucker.

"Wait so we're all your children then ? And Sero's the daddy ? That's kinky."

"You're all my hard labor family and Sero wakes up from time to time to raise you…", she elbowed him. "Hey daddy~ pay more attention would you."

" Nopeee, I'm orphaning all of you asap now that Katsuki's back…" He whined, face against his desk." I'd still tap that though," he added with a smirk, soon joined with Mina's laugh and an elbow's soft poke.

"Eww, don't do that in front of me, i'm baby."

"Who's that fucker Kirishima just left us for," Katsuki paid no attention to his friends banters as his eyes were still fixated onto something ugly. Why was their stupid handshake that long. And why was Kirishima seeming to have fun in every part of it.

"Oh ! Right you didn't see that !"

"What."

"That dude's Kiri's lost twin, I'll tell you ! So we had PE against class B once and they got paired up and then― ! Hit it off like real bro ! Like, they both have that weird old school obsession with being manly and those old heroes movies references, hey― they even share their birthdate. I bet 5$ they're really long lost brother or something."

"Why only 5$ ?" Sero judged.

"Bro I'm broke. Anyway, since that time in PE they started hanging out together sometimes. "

"Kiri is so dazzling, he even get attention from outside our classroom. Sure is my favorite baby."

This shouldn't grip so hard, Kirishima had always been an affection magnet. Only a question of time before others got infatuated too. But Katsuki could feel an ugly emotion growling in his ribcage nonetheless. But he didn't come back for that shit.

"Katsuki ?"

"I'm going out for a bit, –-hungry."

"Hey, bring me something !"

"You can choke on this."

In need of some fresh air, Katsuki exited by the back door to wander in the corridor. Full of loud students packed together while he was walking alone. Fuckers were taking all the fresh air, Katsuki felt annoyed even more. He took a turn opposed to the cafeteria where students were usually attracted by, and hoped for some peace of mind at least.

Too bad,  going for the vending machine, he came onto Kirishima and his fake brother. They were exchanging money to buy each other stuff, and ―surprise― they craved the same candy. Acting on his reflex, Katsuki went back on his step, pressing his back against the opposite wall. It wasn't like he was hiding (of course not). He just didn't want to see the disgusting scene of Kirishima having so much fun with someone else.

He didn't go away immediately though. For some reason, their (really loud) conversation halted him.

"He was a giant, I swear I could see my life flash before my eyes !" the guy used mimics that made Kirishima laugh and Katsuki scowl harder. "I really thought we were done for."

"That sound really exciting though, feeling a life or death situation kinda !"

"It's all about that adrenaline rush."

"Sounds manly !"

"You should really join the team, it'd be fun. We'd make the perfect duo, just like in PE !" the fucker bumped shoulders with Kirishima, and what had been weighing down in Katsuki's stomach burned at the mention duo.

For he had no way to convey this ugly grip around his ribcage that was sinking deeper and deeper, all Katsuki did was kick the wall before leaving with angry steps.

He was feeling sick now.

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°

Awoken for a little while now, thanks to the light rain tapping on the window, Katsuki still didn't felt like moving. He already felt pretty lame for actually skipping classes to rest in the infirmary, but that … feeling back there, had been too much.

Now that he was all alone with his thoughts and the reminiscence of these feelings, he had a hard time fighting them from resurfacing. Of course Kirishima was going to be loved by other and that he would make new friends ; he wasn't the best friend of the infamous Bakugou Katsuki for nothing. Katsuki knew all that, but still…

It wouldn't hurt that much if his feeling weren't going overboard for him. They'd been friends since they were five and nothing could ever come between them on <i>that</i> level, that was promise. And right now they were surely the shiniest thing in each other eyes… But feeling like these made Katsuki apprehend the day someone would dazzle Kirishima's heart away. He knew he was the shit, but nobody could control their feeling…

He would know.

And as the rain was hitting lighter and lighter, announcing he could soon leave school dry, Katsuki decided to leave those feeling behind as well. It felt bittersweet as hell but there was nothing he could do about them in that state. He'll think of a plan after having tasted something, because after sleeping for 3 hours straight he felt damn hungry.

Thinking about what he could get on the way home, Katsuki turned in the infirmary bed, and to his surprise― came facing a red hair, siting roughly on a chair opposed to the bed, gaze consumed by his phone.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel at the very least happy Kirishima knew where he was and waited for him, even though school might have ended since a little while now. But that was bittersweet feeling as well, because now he was reminded how precious Kirishima was and how other people might be entranced by it too. Katsuki responded to that by watching how the sun, resurfacing from the clouds, reflected its light other Kirishima's crimson face. It became even more mesmerizing when Kirishima raised his head, offering a cute smile.

"You came back to play hooky huh…"

"Shut up", Katsuki grumbled as he put himself in seating position. "You.. Did classes end long time ago ?"

"Around half an  hour… And for your notice, I was planning on waking you up in another 15 minutes or so ! Don't think I'd forget you.", his last word hitting Katsuki's heart smoother than he could know.

"Don't think I'd forget you" came clashing right against the awful "We'd make the perfect duo" line from earlier. Katsuki turned his face towards the window just next to his, and as he expected, he could see the club training in the schoolyard.

"Hey… are you going to join a club ?"

"Huh ? Why you ask ?"

"Cause you seem the type that would like that type of shit."

"It does seems nice and all, but it goes on for hours right after school… I don't really like coming home late and… I wouldn't be able to go home with you. Or to go see you on set !"

Katsuki could feel through his skin that his cheeks were slowly blushing. That was so stupid and of course Kirishima would say something like that, but damn it felt good. Especially right now… Katsuki needed indulgence.

"I don't need you coming though… Can go home on my own.", he grumbled, reaching.

"I know that," Kirishima smiled, and the vision of the sun reflecting golden hour over his face made the air around Katsuki feel sweeter and his heart beating.

In front of such feeling, he needed a moment ; thus he put his face against his knee for a while, brutally inhaling whatever. When he dropped a bit from his airy feeling, he still felt high somewhat.

"Hey, let's go, to that taco place you talked about… Or whatever, I'm fucking hungry, shit."

∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°∗ˈ‧₊°

part I, part III

#fanfic #kiribaku #bakushima #Kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #mha #fake word real love

[buckyhoneyno]

Beautiful Ignorance Pt. 1

Steve Rodgers x Stark!Reader

In which Steve meets a girl that he believes could be the one, only to find out she’s Tony Starks daughter.

Warnings: none…yet

 Word count – 2671

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

Masterlist

A/N Hey guys this is my first Captain America fic that I’ve ever had the heart to upload. I hope yall like it. Please give me an feedback yall have I’m really just trying to learn and grow here! I plan on making this a whole series if people are interested in reading it

 Chapter 1

Central Park was quiet today, not out of the ordinary seeing that it was barely 7am. It was a sunny Tuesday morning in the middle of September. A soft breeze flowed through the city setting the scene at a nice 67 degrees. A perfect day for a stroll through the park a luxury Steve Rodgers did not get too often. Taking the chance to get out of Stark tower for a while. He loved his team, and he would undoubtedly do anything for them but he was human and needed his space.

 His walk was peaceful, no one seemed to recognize him. The fight against Loki’s army had only been a few months ago. The battle still fresh in his mind. Shaking his head like he could actually shake off the dark thoughts that threaten to ruin his content mood. He closed his eyes for a moment, feet still moving forward as he rubbed his tired face. It was only a second he could have sworn but it must have been long enough because he was suddenly rocked off balance.

 What felt like a small boulder rammed into his chest knocking him on his back, his breath whooshing out of him as his eyes snapped open.

 A soft squeak was heard as the pair landed. Cap looked down and saw a mass of blond curls on his chest and two small hands gripping his shirt. The head of the stranger lifted, shock covering their face as blue oceans meet green seas.

 “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” The young woman chocked out her face a bright red as she scrambled off a blushing Steve. “I was just in the zone running after my dog and didn’t even notice you were in the way, are you alright?” She took his hand and hoisted him off the ground making his eyes widen in shock at her strength. He took notice then to the large Rottweiler who sat obediently near them, head tilted to the side as it studied the humans.

“Did you hit your head, oh my god your concussed. I gave you a concussion.” Her voice was frantic as she took his frozen face in her hands examining him. Steve suddenly gained his bearings, the woman in front of him had to be some sort of goddess. He’d never seen a girl like her.

“No-No I’m alright,” Steve scolded himself for stuttering in front of the gorgeous blond. “Are you ok?”

She let out a short laugh giving him a large smile that momentarily took his breath away. “I just bulldozed you to the ground and you’re asking if I’m ok?”

“Yes?” his answer came out more like a question then an answer earning him another laugh.

“I’m perfectly fine, you broke my fall,” she reassured sounding almost like she was teasing him.

Steve raked his brain for something witty to say, god he wished he was tony right now. He’d have already secured a date with the woman. But sadly, he was Steve, a man out of his time who lacked any experience with a normal woman. He was fucked.

“Well I’m sorry about…all that,” She said waving her hand before gathering the leash that hung from the large dog.

“It alright, honestly,” Steve stated reassuringly. “Nothing I couldn’t take,”

The blonde looked him up and down with a slight smirk. “I don’t doubt that,” His eyes widened at her boldness but he covered it quickly, unable though to hide his red cheeks.

“I’m Charlie,” She stated sticking out her hand that wasn’t occupied with the leash.

“Steve,” He took her hand shaking it gently before turning to the dog. “And who might this be?”

“This is Princess,” Charlie stated proudly, giving the dog a quick scratch behind the ear. “Princess shake,” she said sweetly to the dog who held its paw out to Steve. He bent down and took the dogs paw shaking it, listening to the girl giggle softly next to him.

“Nice name, it fits,” she grinned at him in response.

“Well I’ll let you get back to your walk, it was nice meeting you Steve,” she said sweetly her voice flowing like honey to his ears. Though her words caused him a slight distress. She was leaving and he would probably never see her again. Something inside of him pushed him to be bolder.

“Do you want to go get coffee with me?” he asked quickly his words coming out so fast he thought she might not understand him. She froze for a second eyeing him till a grin broke out on her face.

“Sure,”

“I know a place a couple blocks from here if you don’t mind walking, they have a patio so princess will be able to come,” She didn’t say it but she found it endearing that he thought of her dog when making the plans. Anyone who was nice to princess couldn’t be too bad in her books.

“Sounds perfect lead the way,” He kept the urge in, to stick an elbow out for her to take. This wasn’t the 40’s.

“So, Steve, what do you do? You know other then walk through parks and get attacked by woman,” Her question made a laugh come out of him. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he laughed. Her question though did make him wonder, she obviously didn’t know who he really was so he could actually be Steve and not Captain America.

“I work for a private agency,” it wasn’t a lie, though it wasn’t the whole truth. She took his answer in stride and didn’t push the topic. “What about you?”

“At the moment, I’m taking a break from working and getting some much needed me time.” She looked so happy as she spoke about it. Obviously, she wasn’t worried about a job. “Though I have a large amount of free time and I really don’t know what hobbies to pick to fill it up,”

“Do you mind me asking what you used to do?” Steve asked curiously. 

“I modeled,” She said nonchalantly peaking up at him as they walked gaging his reaction.

“That’s…nice?” Nice? Nice! Really Steve be a bit smoother. She giggled a little as she watched his face heat up. 

“Eh it payed my bills and gave me something to do but it’s just so…unfulfilling,” she explained. “I want to do more with myself, or at least do something that has a little more value,” 

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her words. They talked as they walked to the coffee shop. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this hard. Her humor was refreshing, she spoke to him as if they had been friends for years rather than strangers who had only just meet. Her lack of filter reminding him of Tony making him shake his head. If he ever had the chance to introduce them he was sure they would get along, maybe too well. 

“Ya and so My dad and I are in this lab trying to figure out if we can make me a science project that will win in one hour. I mean I couldn’t let that little witch Katie Gentry win,” She glared at the girl’s name continuing her story. “anyways we end up making this really cool-” she continued to explain a project that Steve couldn’t even begin to understand but he nodded along laughing at her story. 

“You seem close with your Dad,” Steve stated after she finished her story. He waited for her reply hoping he hadn’t been to forward, seeing as you both were strangers and may not want to answer personal questions.

“We are,” Her smile became softer as she talked. “He raised me on his own, so it was just me and him against the world. He’s actually the reason I’m in New York,” just by looking at her, Steve could tell that she loved her father fiercely. 

“Ya?” Steve said hopping the girl would keep talking. Human interaction like this came few and far between for Steve. He missed his time. Back when the only way to get to know a dame was to talk to her. Now a days there was phones and the internet that kept a buffer between people. 

“He needs help with designing some stuff for his…friends. I’ve done it before for him but for some reason he’s hell bent on me actually meeting them. I swear sometimes he uses me just to show off, I mean not that I mind,” she looked like she couldn’t figure out what word to say after that. She shrugged not bothering to go any deeper on that.

“What about you though, any family your close to?” she asked curiously, it was only fair he had started it.

“Nope just me,” Steve stated trying not to make the mood dark with his lack of loved ones.

Once again, the girl surprised him by nodding understandable and then quickly changing the subject.

“Soooo…got any hidden talents,” Charlie asked grinning at her random question. Steve couldn’t help but laugh nervously before he shyly answered her. 

“I can draw a bit I guess,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly not a huge fan of boasting about his talent.

“ooh I love drawing…I’m not very good at it though,” she said pouting a little as she thought about all of her terrible drawings her father still had hung up in his lab from when she was a child.

“What about you any hidden talents?”

“not really, I’m a bit boring,”

“I don’t believe boring is a word that anyone would ever describe you as,” Charlie couldn’t stop the smile that came to her at his words. God, he was cute, and a gentleman. Those were hard to find now a days Charlie mused to herself. 

Their coffee had been finished for two hours but the conversation had never stopped. It was as if they had known each other for years. 

“…so, me and Buck made it back to the apartment shoes gone, Buck lost his shirt, my pants are missing a whole leg but we managed it without being arrested,” tears were streaming down her face as Charlie laughed at one of his many stories about his childhood best friend. Charlie had found out he had passed away a few years ago when Steve first said the name and had made a point to not make a big deal about it.

“God, you two must have been a handful,”

“ya we were,” his soft smile seemed reminiscent as he thought about Bucky. It still hurt to talk or think about him but it was bearable. It felt nice though to talk about him, to say his name to someone who had no knowledge of who he was. He wanted Bucky to be remembered, he deserved it.

Princess who had been asleep most of the time let out a soft whine as she sat obediently in front of them. Charlie looked confused for a moment till she picked up her phone that she had flipped over when they had first sat down. Her eyes widened as she looked at it. 10 missed calls from her father.

“Oh my god I’m so late,” She said standing quickly but froze when she looked at Steve again who had stood when she did. “I have to go I’m sorry, my dad was expecting me an hour ago,” 

“It’s alright,” Steve said reassuringly even if he was a bit disappointed that she had to leave. 

“I didn’t realize we’ve been here for three hours,” she said in disbelief looking at the time again. “we should do this again though,” she said quickly as if she didn’t even think about what she said. Her cheeks became a soft pink as she looked up at him. “I mean if you want to,”

“Y-Ya,” he responded instantly excited before coughing “I mean sure that sounds great,” 

“Here,” she said handing him her phone, “Put your number in,” he quickly typed the number and put his name before saving it. Proud of himself for doing it correctly the first time. It was one of the things the team had been helping him work on.

“It was really great meeting you Charlie,” 

“You too Steve, see you later,” she said walking backwards for a moment giving him one last smile and a wave before her and princess were off running again. 

Damn she was fast, Steve thought impressed. Turning around he had a smile on his face that wouldn’t go away and a skip in his step that stayed with him till he got back to the tower. Finding his way into the common room he crabbed some food and sat at the table. 

He wasn’t alone long till Natasha and Clint rolled in coming back from training.

“Hey Cap,” Clint said nodding at him grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, handing one to Nat while he was there. “How was your morning stroll,”

“It was good,” Steve responded vaguely not wanting to give anything away. His date with Charlie…if you could even call that a date was his business and he didn’t want his nosey friends getting in the way. 

The rest of his day went off without a hitch up until that night during their weekly team dinner. 

“Ok everyone can I have your attention,” Tony stated standing from the couch and walking in front of the TV. Natasha paused the show she was watching with a role of her eyes before focusing on him.

“My daughter is going to be visiting the tower in a few days, I want everyone on their best behavior so that I can convince her to stay,” Tony stated before being interrupted by Thor.

“I was unaware you had a child,” The God look genuinely confused as he looked at his team mates.

“Whose drawings do you think I have in my lab?” Tony questioned with a role of his eyes.

“I assumed they were your own,”

“You know what, I’ll come back to the Point Break. Right now, I need to stay on topic,” Tony said before beginning again. “My daughter is my mini me. My pride and joy. My spawn. I want her to feel comfortable here so first thing on the agenda is for her to meet all of you. And what better way to do that then- “ 

“I swear if he says throw a party,” Natasha mumbled softly to Clint. 

“to throw a party!” half of the team groaned as the other half sat contently.

“Are you sure a party is the best way for her to meet all of us,” Bruce questioned. “I mean maybe if she just came to one of our team dinners so it’s more personal.” Nat and Clint nodded agreeing with Bruce. Thor still sat wondering how he had not known that Stark was a father.

“well if she is anything like you Tony, I’m sure she will love it,” Steve finally said getting a smile from Tony.

“Exactly, see Cap gets it people,”

“So, what’s her name?” Steve asked, he knew of the kid just not any details.

“Charlotte,” Tony said getting a smile on his face that the team had never seen before. It reminded Steve of when Tony looks at his finished suits, but almost more loving. 

“well I’m sure we all are very excited to meet her,”

With the announcement, out of the way the team settled back to watching TV and lounging around. Steve sat for one staring at the phone in his hand hoping that Charlie would call him, hell even text him for all he cared. He didn’t know what it was about this girl but he was hoping he would get to see her again.

————- 

Hope yall liked it!

Part 2 will be up some time tonight

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts

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