#my brain feels filled to the brim and like its working HARD. but its engaged. it can keep up its attention. at least for 20 minutes or so.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Golden Thread

Prompt: since Janus is Deceit, what if it takes a physical toll on him when he only tells the truth and doesn't manipulate anyone for a period of time? could you please write a oneshot where Janus is in a position where he really needs to to tell the truth, but he can tell he's getting close to his truth limit? - anon

 Hey! I don't know if you're still taking requests for prompts (and I apologize if you aren't), but could you do Janus-centric fluffy hurt/comfort? And maybe a polyship? (If you want to, of course). - anon

Thanks for the prompts, babes! This was supposed to go up yesterday and I’m so sorry I forgot

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & janus, other than that, it’s not that bad

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 5874

There is a thread that winds through Janus’s tongue.

 Thin, golden, finely spun with lies. It tastes sweet against the back of his teeth, the back of his throat. As he talks, it colors his words with a soft gleam, spinning and spinning into the air in front of him. It coils neatly around his throat as its spool and winks.

Most of the time its taste is enough to curl the corners of his mouth upwards into a smirk, watching it wind and weave its way around the others. Sometimes he thinks he can see other threads, clasping delicately around wrists, arms, knees, necks. Sometimes he can’t resist letting his threat tug them this way and that. Come on, what good is temptation if you never give in to it? He’s grown fond of the sweetness it leaves on his tongue, in his words. Saccharine as they may be, the haze they leave behind is more than enough to make up for it.

 Sometimes the sweetness is too much. He swears he can feel cavities forming in the back of his mouth. His teeth start to ache. And sometimes…sometimes he doesn’t care. It’s too much fun to keep tugging this way and that at the others, too entertaining to let the thread unspool and unspool from his throat, filling the air with its golden light. His smile sharpens and the tangle grows, because what’s the fun of it without a little risk of hurt?

 Other times he knows to back off. He adores the others, but no matter how fun they are to play with, he knows not to push too hard. At those times, he lets the sweetness spill off of his tongue, gently winds the thread back around his own throat. It always protests, the lack of sweetness making his tongue ache, the grip on his throat just a little too tight. But the looks on their faces…the begrudging gratitude, the sincere remark, or--god forbid—the poorly disguised hope…well.

 Sometimes he wonders whether or not it’d be worth it to keep the thread fully wound.

 Not that he ever would, it’s just a thought experiment.

 It’s not like he wonders what it would feel like to have Patton be able to listen to him easily, not make it a fight to get his point across. He doesn’t want to have an engaging conversation with Logan about philosophy, ethics, science, anything just to hear the brilliant man talk. He refuses to entertain the idea of being a proper source of comfort for Virgil. He wouldn’t enjoy snarking with Remus just for fun and not because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

 And he…

 Well.

 The idea of being able to have an honest conversation with Roman makes him fill to the brim, top to toes, with hatred.

 He doesn’t have much of a choice.

 He can speak a few times with the thread coiled up, just enough when it really counts. He knows the others, he can’t just play with them all the time, he’ll get bored. And they’re not really cut out for it. And as much as he loves to see them squirm out of their comfort zones, it’s not good for Thomas. That’s his real priority.

 Janus pushes open the door to his room and sighs, taking his hat off and hanging it carefully up on its stand. He summons his cane and makes it the rest of the way to the desk, plopping himself into the chair and scrubbing his hand through his hair.

 “They’re so slow,” he mutters as his fingers go to the clasp around his throat, “how do they ever get anything done?”

 Well…they don’t. Not really.

 Don’t get him wrong, he loves being the one to tug and twist them into the right answer, but he doesn’t want to be there all the time. They do know what they’re doing, they’re all good at their jobs, so…trying to manage all of that is exhausting.

 The clasp at his throat falls away and he lifts his hand, craning his neck above his collar. There.

 He knows the thread isn’t real; nothing here is real. Nothing of him can ever be real. But he can still feel it sometimes. Like today.

 They’d been…talking. It wasn’t an overdue conversation, not in the slightest, and he’s had to be honest with them. Doesn’t mean he has to be honest with himself.

 And isn’t that just his saving grace?

 Janus winces as he feels the thread wind tighter and tighter around his tongue, pulling his gloves off to touch his throat, just to confirm that it’s not real. His fingers meet his scales and he sighs, missing the sweetness. It won’t be for long. This will blow over and tomorrow they’ll be back to everyone’s favorite regularly scheduled programming. He’ll make Patton blink in that adorably-confused way, Logan will be pinching the bridge of his nose trying to make everyone shut up and pay attention to Janus’s lies, Virgil will be hissing at him like a demented cat, Remus will be having the time of his life, and Roman won’t want anything to do with him.

 Janus breathes a sigh of relief as sweetness starts to coat his tongue again.

See? It’s already working.

 It doesn’t keep working, but you know.

 The effort was there.

 They’re talking again.

 The living room feels dry. Has it always been this dry? Disguising it as a roll of his eyes, Janus tilts his head toward the ceiling. Huh. He’s never noticed that light there before. Has it always been there? Probably.

 “Janus,” Patton calls, “can you—um—“

 Rolling his eyes again, he looks back down, crossing one leg over the other. He hides the lack of sweetness by pursing his lips.

 “Yes?”

 “Did you hear what I asked?”

 “Of course I did,” he drawls, idly flicking the tips of his gloves together.

 “…so what do you think?”

  Honestly.

 “He didn’t hear you,” Logan says quietly, and thank god the other brain cell has joined the chat.

 Patton frowns. “Then why—never mind.”

  Oh, Patton.

 “I asked if you knew how to help,” Patton says, his hands clutched in his lap, “with the barrier breaking down. It’s been kind of rough from our side so…”

 Right.

 There hadn’t been a barrier up until a few years ago. Something had formed in the Mindscape, an invisible wall. It wasn’t real, of course, but it made walking through the hallways unnecessarily difficult. One of them would try to walk from one side to the other and be suddenly seized with a compulsion to do anything but. Or they’d be accompanying another Side back to the room only to freeze in the middle of the corridor and have to mutter out apologies. It’s exhausting. Luckily they’d still been able to sink in and out to get from place to place, but it’s not like the barrier actually does anything.

 Janus sighs and uncrosses his legs. The thread leaps to the tip of his tongue, eager, poised.

 “I don’t know,” he says instead, feeling the sweetness recede in disappointment, “I don’t know enough about how it formed in the first place.”

 “It happened around the time of the series premiering,” Logan says thoughtfully, “perhaps it could be linked with the presentation of the Mindscape in the fanbase?”

 Virgil snorts. “Like any of that is accurate.”

 “You don’t know that, Virgil.”

 “Um, excuse me, which of us spends the most time on Tumblr?”

 “What does that have to do with anything?”

 “Where do you think most of the fanbase hangs out? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t Facebook.”

 “That’s a shame,” Patton sighs, “I miss it.”

 “You miss Facebook?”

 “You know it does still exist, right?”

 “Did Thomas ever even have Facebook?”

 “The color palettes were nice!”

 “You mean they were blue.”

 “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

 “…the point being I know a lot about what the fans do with the content we give them and most of that stuff is entirely made-up.”

 Logan raises an eyebrow. “As opposed to the made-up that the series is.”

 “Shut up, L.”

 “I’d rather not, actually.”

 Virgil swats Logan’s shoulder half-heartedly.

 Janus is smiling. Why is he smiling? He hasn’t lied enough for the sweetness to make him smile and it’s not like Remus has appeared with feet coming out of his head again. In fact, Remus is just…sitting next to Roman. Granted, he’s got his morning star in his lap dripping with god knows what, but there are no crazy shenanigans happening.

 He watches Logan reach out and tangle his fingers with Virgil’s as Patton starts talking again. He watches Virgil nudge Remus’s tape back over to him when he drops it halfway through rewrapping the grip on his morning star. He watches Roman cover a flinch that he’d never have noticed if he wasn’t paying attention and sees Remus take hold of Roman’s costume and grip it tight in his fist.

 The thread twitches angrily on his tongue as he tries to make sense of what’s happening.

 “Has anything happened,” Roman asks as Patton pauses, “on your side?”

 Virgil shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But I normally sink straight to my room, so…”

 “Remus?”

 “You do realize that most of the thoughts that come into my head are the type that you guys would ignore anyway, right?”

 Roman rolls his eyes too, but it’s fond. Affectionate. Janus is not.

 “…Janus? What about you?”

 The thread begins to sew neat little words into his tongue, all prepared for him to say. Yes, he’s noticed something, he’s noticed that the others are so much less fun than they used to be. No, he hasn’t noticed anything, it’s not like he’s the observant one.

 Yes, he’s noticed that the barrier is fading and he hates it.

 No, he hasn’t noticed anything because he spends as little time with the others as possible.

 “I don’t know.”

 Patton nods. “That’s okay, just…maybe try keeping an eye out? See if anything changes?”

 “I will.”

 The thread takes longer to undo that night.

 Janus slumps onto his elbows and groans.

 When did he become addicted to the sweetness? When did it get so hard for him to realize when he’s the one telling the lies and when the thread is telling the lies? When did he stop caring about the words coming out of his mouth?

 The truth is, of course, that he didn’t.

 He started caring more about the others.

 The thread tightens in warning but Janus pushes it aside. He frowns, staring hard at the grooves in the desk. He started to care about them, not just as parts of Thomas’s personality that would help him do things, but as their own Sides. As them.

 He cares about how Logan’s eyes light up just a little when he starts talking about something. He cares about how warm Patton speaks when they’re all there. He cares about how bouncy Remus gets when they talk to him. He cares about when Virgil’s eyeshadow turns all purple and sparkly. He cares about how hard it’s become to genuinely make Roman smile.

 The thread groans.

 Janus curses.

 He can’t.

 “The others aren’t important,” he hisses at the mirror, “Thomas is the only important one.”

 The thread pauses.

 “I don’t care what they want,” he continues, feeling it slowly start to unwind, “it only matters that Thomas is safe. That Thomas knows what’s going on.”

 It starts to run back out along his tongue.

 “Their thoughts and feelings aren’t important.” His hands ball into fists. “I don’t care about them.”

 His tongue starts to taste sweet again.

 “I don’t care about them,” he repeats in a whisper, “they aren’t important to me.”

 The salt of the tears goes perfectly with the sweetness on his tongue.

————————————————

Something is wrong.

 Something is horribly, desperately wrong and the others are panicking.

 The barrier is gone. That’s not the bad thing. The bad thing is that along with it, everything in the Mindscape is rushing out of control.

 The walls won’t hold. The doors lock and unlock more often than they stay in place. Floors disappear out of nowhere and open up into yawning black pits. The doors to the Imagination buckle and groan under the onslaught of rushing beasts from the other side. Something is fading.

 They can’t sink out anymore. They need to know where everything is in order to do that. The place is a labyrinth. Only one entrance, one exit. There’s no way that they’ll know the right path unless they run it themselves.

 Janus knows something is broken the instant his eyes open. He can feel it. Cracks wind their way through the walls, through the floor, the ceiling shakes. He’s out of his room in an instant, running through the halls, somewhere, anywhere, are they alright? Where are they? Have they faded?

 “Virgil!”

 “Janus?” Virgil flies into him at breakneck speed, clutching his cape in both hands. “Are you—what’s happening? Where is everyone? Did something go wrong? What’s happening to Thomas?”

 The thread perks its end up eagerly but Janus swallows it down.

 “I don’t know what’s happening,” he says quickly, pulling Virgil closer, “and you’re the first one I’ve seen.”

 “I can’t find anyone,” Virgil pants, “I can’t—there’s no one—we’re going to fade.”

 “We won’t, I promise. We just have to find the others.”

 “Hello?” Another voice calls out from around the corner. “Hello, where the fuck is everyone? Who decided to break shit without me?”

 “Remus!”

 “That’s me, where the fuck—“ Remus barrels around the corner, almost knocking them over— “Virgil! Snake Face!”

 “Remus—“ Virgil wraps Remus in his arms, clutching him tightly. “Where were you? What’s going on?”

 “I was draining the viscera from a partially dissected sperm whale—“ of course he was— “but then everything started shaking.”

 “We can’t find the others.”

 “Then what the fuck are we waiting for?”

 They don’t even look back; Remus grabs Janus’s sleeve and Virgil still hasn’t let go of his cape, dragging him behind as they race through the halls. They can see where the barrier used to be, though with how much the place has shifted, it’s impossible to tell. Janus grits his teeth as they prepare themselves to smash through.

 Nothing happens.

 They just keep barreling down the corridor.

 “Patton! Logan! Roman!”

 “Where the fuck are you guys?”

 “Can you hear us?”

 “Re? Re, is that you?”

 “Ro!”

Remus reroutes them effortlessly, barreling through chunks of disappearing floor and leaping over cracks forming in the tiles. Virgil hangs onto Janus as they go. Janus can’t let go of either of them.

 “In here!”

 A blade flashes through a crumbling chunk of wall and a hand reaches out. Remus grabs it and vaults through the opening.

“Oh my goodness, Virgil!”

 “Pat—“

 Another hand helps to haul him through the crack. The hand he has in his cape pulls uncomfortably at Janus’s neck.

 “Where’s Janus? Did you guys see him?”

 “Yeah, he’s right here, Ja—“

 “Snake Face, get your butt in here.”

 “Don’t just stand there, help you idiots!”

 A sickening crack right above him makes him jerk his head up. His eyes widen as a massive chunk of ceiling starts to fall. Hands wrap around his arms, his clothes, even his waist and pull.

 “Janus?” He blinks through the dust to see Logan staring at him, concern written plainly all over his face. “Are you alright?”

 No, the thread sews, I am now trapped with the five people I abhor most in this world. I am the furthest from alright I could possibly be.

 “Are you all alright,” he asks instead, lifting his hand to fix Logan’s collar, “I’m not hurt.”

 “We’re fine,” Roman says, helping him to his feet, “we managed to get in here before the place really started coming down.”

 “What’s going on?”

 Patton’s shoulders slump at Virgil’s question. “We were hoping you would know.”

 Janus bites back a curse, turning to look at the opening. It’s blocked now, completely choked in dust. He glances around.

 “Where are we?”

 “Safe room,” Roman says, tapping the wall, “something Remy helped us come up with.”

 “Remy?”

 “He’s a bitch but he knows what he’s doing.”

 “Fair enough.” Janus grits his teeth. “So what do we know?”

 “Who was awake when it happened,” Logan asks, “Roman and I were not.”

 “I was also not awake,” Virgil mutters, “and I would really appreciate this not being how I wake up ever again.”

 “I agree.” Janus glances at Patton and Remus. “I was asleep too. Remus, you said you were awake?”

 “I was in the middle of an experiment!”

 Logan perks up. “An experiment?”

 “As much as I love watching you two be nerds together,” Roman breaks in, “can we do that later?”

 “Of course.”

 “Spoilsport,” Remus says fondly, “but it wasn’t me. I’ve done this experiment before, nothing I do could do…this.”

 All eyes turn to Patton.

 “…Padre?”

 Patton shakes his head. “I…I don’t know. I had just gotten up to get a glass of water when it shattered in my hand.”

 “It did what?”

 “Are you hurt?”

 “Let me see.”

 “No, no, guys I’m fine,” Patton says quickly, holding up his hands, “but then the whole house started to shake. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on.”

 Janus’s heart sinks. He’s telling the truth.

 They’re stuck.

 “Oh, god,” Virgil mutters, his hands flying to his head, “oh god, oh my god, no one knows what’s going on.”

 “V,” Logan murmurs, crouching down and reaching to take his hands, “Virgil, look at me.”

 “We’re going to mess everything up—it’s going to be so bad—what’s happing to Thomas?”

 “Virgil, look at me, come now, it’s going to be alright—“

 “How can you promise that?” Virgil’s voice starts to rise. “Have you seen what’s happening?”

 “Easy, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs too, his hand carding through Virgil’s hair, “just listen to Logan.”

 “You’re doing well,” Logan encourages, rubbing Virgil’s arms, “just stay here, with me, alright?”

 Janus watches Patton and Remus stand a little closer to the three of them, shielding them from the debris still raining down from outside. Something in his gut clenches.

 Then he notices the tremors are slowing as the other calm Virgil down.

 And it clenches more.

 “It’s us,” he mutters quietly, almost too quietly for the others to hear, “it’s us. We have to stick together.”

 The thread on his tongue twitches angrily. There’s almost no sweetness left in his mouth now.

 Patton looks over his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

 “Look—“ Janus points at a crack in the wall— “they’re moving slower now. The closer we are together the less this place falls apart.”

 Virgil’s next inhale is almost a sob.

 “I really do just ruin everything, don’t I?”

 “No,” Roman says firmly, wrapping his arms tightly around the shaking Side, “we’ve had this conversation, shadow-ling. You’re important to us. You’re not a burden. And this certainly isn’t your fault.”

 “We need you,” Patton echoes, reaching down to rest his hand on Virgil’s shoulder, “don’t go anywhere.”

 “Don’t make us chase you.” Remus bonks his head into Virgil’s. “Not fun.”

 Virgil still looks doubtful. Which, alright, isn’t his fault. Voices in the head, not to mention the general anxiety, it’s no surprise, not really. Janus clears his throat.

 “Virgil,” he says softly, crouching down as well, “Virgil, listen to me.”

 Purple eyes stare at him.

 “You haven’t lost us,” he promises, “you won’t lose us. You’re important, not just for Thomas, but for us too. We care about you. All of you.”

 “Fuck, J,” Virgil huffs, swiping at his face, “why’d you have to make me cry?”

 The tremors keep settling.

 Patton throws his arms around Virgil. “See? We care about you, kiddo. We love you.”

 Something else twitches in Janus’s throat as he hears Patton say that. Virgil must notice it too; he looks up and squints at Patton.

 “Have we ever told you that we care about you?”

  Bingo.

 Patton falters, his grip wavering. His smile wobbles. “W-well, no, not really, but that’s okay! I know you do.”

 Logan tilts his head. “But you enjoy hearing it said.”

 The smile slips even further. “…you don’t like saying it.”

 “That’s no excuse!” Roman reaches over Virgil to get to Patton. “If you want us to say it, we can say it!”

 Janus shifts his attention. “Patton?”

 “…yeah?”

 “No one takes care of us like you do,” he says softly, “and none of us care as openly as you do.”

 Patton’s eyes widen. “Janus—“

 “You try,” he continues, not to be interrupted, not now, “and that is perhaps the most admirable thing we could ask for.”

 “He made Pat cry too,” Virgil mutters, pulling the now-sobbing side in for a hug.

 “Happy tears,” Patton manages, “I—wow.”

 A crack in the wall disappears.

 “Is that what this is?” Logan looks around. “An…emotional problem?”

 “We’re fading, the whole Mindscape is,” Janus says around the thread, “if we—if we stay, then we can fix this.”

 “O-oh.”

 That tone of voice always leads somewhere good. Sure enough, as he looks around, he sees Logan adjust his glasses and take a step back.

 “And where are you going?”

 “I’m not sure I can help,” Logan says flatly. “You have the answer already.”

 “But we’re not done.”

 “And what do you expect I can lend to this problem?” He spreads his arms wide. “I’m no expert on emotions, nor am I useful in proving things that are already true.”

 “Wait, what the fuck are you talking about, L?” Virgil scrambles up. “What are we proving here?”

 “That you are important.” Logan frowns as Patton and Roman scramble up too. “What?”

 “You’re implying that you’re not important,” Remus growls, “and I’m pissed about it.”

 “But—“

 “No buts!” Roman points a stern finger at him. “Believing yourself to be unimportant is a falsehood!”

 “I never said I was unimportant,” Logan corrects, “I said I would not be helpful in this situation.”

 “Bullshit. You helped me calm down.”

 “So did Patton and Roman.”

 “You figured out that I like being told that you guys care about me!”

 “That was obvious.”

 “Logan,” Janus calls softly to get his attention, “Logan, if you believe that anyone knows us better than you, you are gravely mistaken.”

 Logan’s mouth drops open.

 “You claim not to know emotions,” he continues, stepping closer, “but you know us, perhaps better than we know ourselves at times. You are kind, you are wonderful, and if you ever stop teaching us things, I am sure we would never recover.”

 He slips Logan’s glasses back into position.

 “You are not just Logic,” he murmurs, “you’re Logan. Stay. Be Logan.”

 Logan swallows heavily.

 “I must ask,” he says hoarsely as a tear rolls down his cheek, “if you intend to make everyone cry today.”

 Janus chuckles. “No, I don’t, but it seems that it may be a side effect. I promise I’m not trying.”

 “You won’t make me cry,” Remus remarks casually, “not without trying. I don’t care.”

 Oh, Remus. Janus doesn’t bother to hide his smile at the indignant squawk from Virgil as Remus implies that he doesn’t care about the others.

 “I don’t need to try to make you cry,” he says, “I’ve never wanted that. I just want you to be listened to.”

 “…fuck you, Snakey.”

 Patton lunges forward as Remus sniffles.

 “Do we just like…not talk to each other, then?” Virgil wipes his nose. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember us getting this emotional about anything.”

 Then Janus realizes that his mouth tastes bitter.

 The thread has not been idle, he realizes in horror, not while he’s been spilling his guts to the others in an effort to hold them all together. It’s dragged itself over his tongue, scraping every last bit down his throat, winding tighter and tighter. His mouth tastes bitter. It’s not supposed to be bitter. It burns, scraping along the sides of his mouth until they smart. He swallows frantically. It’s not working. Nothing is working. It hurts. His tongue hurts. His throat hurts.

 The floor wobbles.

 He can’t catch his breath.

 His eyes land on Roman.

 No.

  No.

 No, no, no, he can’t stop now.

 Not here.

 Not with Roman.

 Roman just watches the others wrap their arms tightly around his brother still wiping snot from his nose. A soft smile curls at his mouth that never reaches his eyes. Behind him, massive cracks open up in the walls.

 No.

 He can’t let Roman fall.

 Not after everything.

 Roman notices he’s staring at him. He just raises an eyebrow.

 “Going to make me cry again,” he asks softly, “or are you all finished for the day?”

 The thread stabs words into his tongue until he can taste blood.

  Well, it’s not like it’s difficult to make you cry.

  If I had something that would work, I’d say it.

  Only if you were a Side worth worrying about.

 No.

 No, no, he won’t say that. He won’t.

 The thread tightens around his throat as a harsher warning. The bitterness on his tongue worsens.

 “It’s alright, Janus—“ no, it isn’t— “I know you don’t like me much anyway. Don’t force yourself.”

  At least you’re being considerate for once in your life.

  Took you this long to figure it out, hmm? No wonder you’re called the stupidest Side.

 Janus grits his teeth against the thread. It just keeps tightening. His mouth has never tasted sweet in his entire life.

 He needs to tell Roman how important he is. He needs to tell Roman that they all have to start paying attention to him. He needs Roman to know that he’s sorry, sorry he ever implied otherwise.

 All that comes out of his mouth instead is: “you need attention.”

 Roman blinks. “Well, yes, I’d say that’s true.”

 He has to tell Roman that Thomas needs him, needs him to be strong and healthy, to dream.

 What comes out instead is: “you spend so much time stuck in your head.”

 Roman frowns. “If that’s the best you can do, there’s no need to overexert yourself. I can make myself cry much easier than that.”

 Why won’t his tongue cooperate?

 The thread just tightens around him again. A warning. A threat. A promise.

 He can’t tell the truth.

 He can’t.

 He can’t.

 It doesn’t matter. Roman won’t know how important he is. He’ll think that Janus hates him and that’s fine.

 Janus struggles to breathe.

 “There are two Creativities,” he grits out, even if the ‘but only one Roman’ won’t follow.

 “Patton is the heart,” comes out next, separate from ‘but he needs you to love.’

 “We don’t need you,” hurts on the way out because it leaves behind ‘but we want you, we want you so badly.’

 The Mindscape is crumbling. Janus can’t speak. The others are going to fade. He can’t help Roman. He’s ruined everything.

 He’s forgotten what sweetness tastes like.

 Roman is frowning at him. He stands, striding across the broken floor, eyes flint chips. Janus closes his eyes and braces for the hit.

 Roman’s fingers hook into his collar and yank.

 “What the fuck is that?”

 “Why is it cutting into him?”

 “How long has that been there, this whole time?”

 “Janus—Janus can you breathe?”

 What?

 Janus opens his eyes in confusion. Roman’s still holding onto him but his eyes are fixed not on his face, but lower. Something shiny casts light onto Roman’s face.

 “Janus,” Roman asks softly, “what is this?”

 “What is what?”

 “This,” Roman says darkly, fingertips tracing across something, “around your neck.”

 No.

 No, it’s not real.

 It can’t be real.

 …can it?

 “It’s not a thread,” Janus spits out, his tongue smarting in the air, “and it doesn’t keep me from telling the truth.”

 Roman’s eyes widen in horror. He reaches forward and Janus keens as the pressure tightens.

 “Don’t stop,” he grits out, “it doesn’t hurt.”

 “The sky is green.”

 “What?”

 “The sky is green,” Roman repeats, still glaring hard at Janus’s neck, “the Fourth of July is in October.”

 The thread loosens.

 “Remus, get over here,” Roman barks. A second later, two more fingers slip under the thread. “Now lie.”

 “Um, ventricles are found in the liver.”

 “Blue is made of red and orange.”

 “The alphabet starts with the letter ‘m.’”

 Logan catches on next. “The sun goes around the earth,” he says, nudging Virgil.

 “Uh—“ he glances around— “Patton isn’t wearing glasses.”

 “Paris is in Canada.”

 “Books are printed on alligator skin.”

 “Water isn’t clear.”

 “Mark Zuckerberg isn’t the inventor of Facebook.”

 “Earmuffs go on your hands.”

 “Hamburgers are vegan.”

 Lies spin out of their mouths. Remus grits his teeth as he pulls at the thread. Patton looks around frantically. Janus still can’t breathe.

 The room is settling, slowly but surely, but there are still cracks snaking their way through the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Right under Janus.

 Roman looks directly at him.

 “I hate you.”

 The thread gives.

 The brothers yank, unspooling the thread from around Janus’s throat, throwing it at the walls. It freezes in mid-air, still glowing gold.

 The cracks weren’t cracks, they were threads.

 The golden thread melts seamlessly into the wall, knitting the place back together, stitch by stitch. The walls settle, glowing softly as the floor reconstitutes under them. The Mindscape breathes.

 Janus hasn’t noticed any of this. He’s too busy collapsing into Roman’s arms, sobbing his heart out.

 “Shh, shh, sweetheart,” Roman coos, “I’ve got you, you’re alright, you did it, come here…”

 “He’s gonna be cold,” he hears someone—probably Virgil?—say over his shoulder, “grab a blanket. Can we sink?”

 “Let me try.” A second later there’s another sigh of relief. “Yeah. We can. Let’s get him to the living room, I’ll get a fire going.”

 “In the fireplace, this time, Remus!”

 “Yeah, yeah!”

 “Come on, little snake,” Roman coaxes, lifting him up to a broad chest, “let’s get you warm.”

 He’s still sobbing breathlessly, draped uselessly over Roman. He feels another set of arms as they sink into the couch.

 “I’ve got him,” Patton says quietly, “hey, kiddo, can you hear me?”

 The next sob is slightly higher.

 “Shh, shh, it’s okay, kiddo, you don’t have to speak right now.” Patton rubs soothing circles into his back. “Just stay right here with me, right here, the others are just getting the nest set up.”

 N-nest?

 “Give him to me, I’ll help him down while you slide in.”

 “Make sure to get his head, he’s having trouble right now.”

 “I understand.”

 A warm hand cups the back of his neck, leaning his nose into the crook of a warm shoulder. Books, coffee, whiteboard pen…Logan.

 “You’re freezing,” Logan murmurs, concerned, “let’s get you warmed up…no hyperthermia today, hmm?”

 Janus almost groans in relief as his scales hit something thick and soft and warm. He’s still crying, isn’t he? Why?

 “Hey, Snakey,” Remus mumbles, his hand under Janus’s head, “you gotta roll over, you’re gonna crush yourself that way. Come on—for crying out loud, you bastards, how long does it take to undo a clasp?”

 “Got it.”

 He suppresses a whine as his cape flies away, only for it quickly be replaced by a warm, warm blanket. He blinks his eyes open, straining to see through the tears. He can only see blobs. What is happening?

 “Rest,” comes another voice, is that Roman? Isn’t Roman angry at him? He can’t stop the confused whine.

 “Shh, shh, easy, little snake,” Roman soothes, running his hand through his hair, “breathe, that horrible thing was choking you.”

 The horrible thread…is it…gone?

 “Relax, come on, shh…easy,” he says earnestly when Janus whines again, “don’t work yourself up.”

 “He’s gonna hurt himself if he keeps clawing at his throat like that.”

 He’s doing what now?

 Warm hands take each of his and…oh. Well, maybe he was.

 “That’s it,” Patton whispers, “easy…”

 “What…what’s going on?”

 “You did it,” Logan says softly, stroking his thumb along the back of Janus’s hand, “you figured it out.”

 “But—“ he swallows, still not used to the freedom in his throat— “I couldn’t do it.”

 “You weren’t supposed to do it on your own, Jan-Jan. We all had to do it, remember?”

 “That’s what you said, J.”

 “So we did,” Patton finishes, smiling at him, “and it worked.”

 “But—but I—“ Janus’s eyes flash up to catch Roman’s.

 Roman, who sat there and didn’t protest when Janus couldn’t say one nice thing about him.

 Roman, whom Janus has hurt so many times.

 Roman, who pried the thread away from Janus’s throat without blinking.

 Roman, who caught him, and is still here.

 “Maybe the next time we talk,” Roman says softly, “we can do it without that thread around your throat, hmm?”

 “I’m sorry.”

 “Shh, little snake,” he murmurs, gently stroking a tear away from Janus’s cheek, “I know. But not right now, okay? You’re still crying.”

 He is?

 Oh.

 “Close your eyes,” he encourages, his hand still cupping Janus’s face, “rest, we all need it.”

 “Did we—“ his tongue is heavy— “did we ever figure out what happened?”

 “I believe Thomas had something of an identity crisis,” Logan remarks, “but we can figure that out later. For now…we should all try and go back to sleep.”

 “Great. Pop Star, budge.”

 “Hey! Kiddo!”

 “Ah. Much better.”

 “Pocket Protector, stop pretending you don’t wanna cuddle and get down here.”

 “In a moment, Remus, I need to take my glasses off.”

 “Ro-Bro! Get over here.”

 “Re, pulling me over Janus is not going to work.”

 “L, are you coming?”

 “Must you all be so impatient?”

 “Yes, my dear darling nerd, now come here.”

 Logan rolls his eyes and lies down, still holding Janus’s hand. On his other side, Roman leans Janus’s head into his chest and hums softly.

 “There. Now we’re all together again.”

 “Shut the fuck up, Princey, I’m trying to sleep.”

 “Shut up yourself, then.”

 “Kiddos.”

 “Sorry, Pat.”

 Logan chuckles. Remus shifts on the edge of the blanket nest. Roman tilts Janus’s chin up.

 “Are you alright,” he whispers as the others drift off to sleep, “not hurt?”

 Janus shakes his head. “I…was it really a lie?”

 “Was what really a lie, little snake?”

 “…you said ‘I hate you.’”

 “Oh, that.” Roman chucks him lightly under the chin. “What does your mouth taste like?”

 …sweet.

 It’s sweet.

 Oh.

  Oh.

 Roman smiles. “Go to sleep, little snake.”

 The Sides fall asleep in the Mindscape, threads wearing them tightly together.

Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness  @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes  @iminyourfandom  @bullet-tothefeels  @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @demoniccheese83  @pattonsandershugs @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember  @fandomssaremysoul  @im-an-anxious-wreck  @crazy-multifandomfangirl  @punk-academian-witch  @enby-ralsei  @unicornssunflowersandstuff  @wildhorsewolf @stubbornness-and-spite  @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme  @angels-and-dreams  @averykedavra  @a-ghostlight-for-roman  @cricketanne  @aularei @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer  @i-am-overly-complicated   @alias290  @tranquil-space-ninja  @arxticandy  @whyiask @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @snowyfires @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx

I’ve been trying to debug the taglist recently, so I’ve taken off some URLs that don’t seem to be working anymore. If that happens to be yours and you want back on, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders

[aka-a-shii]

생일축하해 내 사랑 || A. Keiji

Akaashi x F!Reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: nsfw; 18+; unprotected sex; spicy 🌶 not proofread

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY BELOVED AKAASHI KEIJI 💋 this is my first smut fic 😭olease bear with me ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

Akaashi’s eyes started to strain from being in front of his laptop for hours. cramming to finish reviewing the final panels for his upcoming deadline, he started to stretch his limbs when his eyes landed on the digital clock at his side. its almost 12AM. he decided to take a break for a few minutes to relish his body and mind. maybe another cup of coffee would suffice, he thought. he stood up from his swivel chair when his phone rang flashing your name on the screen, he can’t help but flash a smile and answered the phone.

“hello?”

“hiya Keiji! you’re still up! still not done with your final panels?”

he chuckled softly as your angelic voice rang to his ears. “just a little more, love. i’m taking a break now, just gonna grab one last cup of coffee. did you just got off from work?”

“yeah i just got home! also grabbed some dinner along the way.”

“good! so, how was your day today?” he padded his way to the kitchen to make his coffee as he listened to how you rambled about how your day went. you had been dating ever since second year of highschool and now engaged to this almost perfect former setter of Fukurodani. and even if you are miles apart due to you working in the other side of the world, the love is still there, you made it work still. indeed, you still miss each other and you long for each other’s presence and you never fail to make time for each other despite your schedules. oftentimes you would call each other or facetime each other, even when one of you ended up falling asleep during the call, most of the time, its you. but for Akaashi it doesn’t matter, he always love to see you sleep and the call would end with him saying good night and i love you to you while lowkey kissing his phone screen or laptop screen.

“hey. Keiji?”

“hmm?”

“i miss you.”

he could tell that you’re almost tearing up by how your voice was kinda shaky.

“i miss you too, love. few more months and we’ll see each other again, okay? just a little more.” he reassured you. he misses you as much as you did.

“b-but i wanna see you now.”

he lets out a chuckle. “would you like to go facetime then?”

“NO! i look hideous right now.” you excused earning a hearty laugh from your fiancé.

“you know that’s not true! you’re always beautiful in my eyes no matter what love.” he confessed

and as his coffee stopped brewing, the clock struck 12AM.

“Keiji?”

“yes?”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Akaashi cannot help but smile.

“thank you, love”

as much as he wanted to hear it personally, hearing your voice is enough for his heart to pace up. as much as he wanted to hug and kiss you right then and there, as much as he wanted you to be there with him on his birthday.

“i really wished i could be there with you today, Keiji.”

and even when you’re miles apart, Akaashi is sure that you are definitely pouting on the other side of the line.

“just a little more, love. are you sure you don’t wanna facetime now?” he asked.

“yep! i might miss you more if i do. oh! i need to go Keiji! i need to go shower, i smell icky!” you excused

“alright. i’m done brewing my coffee so i might go back to work anytime soon. take your time, love and get lots of rest.” he said as he walked back to his home office.

“okay~ i love you! happy birthday once again!”

“i love you too, y/n”

“bye-bye~”

“goodbye.” he replied before you hang up.

little did he know that he will be up for a surprise later that day.

—

Akaashi slowly walked towards his cubicle holding his approved manuscripts mentally noting to call you the moment he gets to sit on his swivel chair.

he tried to call you but its seems like he couldn’t reach your phone as of the moment. “maybe she’s busy” Akaashi thought.

he then decided to call you again later when he’s about to go home. but when he stepped out of the building hours later, his phone on his ears beeping for a voice message, he instantly became restless and immediately walked faster to the train station.

Akaashi had been dialing your number again and again but you’re out of coverage. he’s already getting worried because you didn’t even return his missed calls or texts. he definitely knows that you always do once you see a notification from him but this time he got nothing except for the repeating beep for voice message that keeps ringing into his ear.

when he arrived at his doorstep he didn’t waste a second to open the door, but what greeted him at the frontdoor made him tensed. a pair of familiar shoes were gently placed at the side. he immediately step out of his own and sprinted towards the hallways and upon nearing the kitchen he hears faint sizzling sounds, and there he saw you, in flesh, in front of the stove cooking something. and within a split second his body instantly moved faster than his brain and wrapped his arms around your waist

you flinched when you felt the familiar warmth of his chest on your back. Akaashi nuzzled his face onto the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent.

“you almost gave me a heart attack!” you said as you reached and ruffled his raven hair.

“that should be my line, you know?” Akaashi retorted as he lift your chin to the side and collided his lips with yours.

you missed this. the familiarity of his hold on you, the warmth of his lips, his scent, his everything and Akaashi feels the same.

“happy birthday, Keiji.” you whispered when he pulled away, Akaashi just smiled and crashed his lips on yours once again.

“i missed you, y/n..” another kiss. “...so much.” and another down to your neck.

you feel his kiss trailing down from your neck to your shoulder blade. “K-Keiji...”

he hummed, lips still lingering on your shoulder as he slid his free hand to hold the small of your back.

“i still need to cook for us, to celebrate your birthday.” you said as you swatted his hand away. but instead, Akaashi held you closer and wrapped his arms on your belly.

“i’d rather eat you tonight, love” he whispered into your ear slightly blowing air on it.

you feel shivers run down your spine on his gestures and flinched. “AKAASHI KEIJI! I ALMOST DROPPED THE PAN!” you shrieked earning a chuckle from your fiancé.

Akaashi then reached for the stove and shut it off. he turned you to face him then lifted your chin and kissed you again with fervor leaving you breathless as he pulled away. without missing a beat, he then hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his torso. “the food can wait, darling .” he said, then kissed you again as he carried you to your bedroom.

well, you already expected this, with so many months that you had been away with each other, who are you to deny Akaashi Keiji? your almost perfect boyfriend and soon-to-be husband.

as you reached the edge of the bed, he laid you down oh so gently then peeled his dress shirt off of him and tossed it on the floor. he hovered above you as he gazed all of you underneath him.

“i missed you so much, y/n” he captured your lips into a searing kiss.

“i missed you too, Keiji.” you replied as he pulled away.

his hand slowly inched closer to the hem of your sweatshirt. “may i?” his eyes locked onto yours expecting permission and you nodded in response.

Akaashi took your sweater off tossing it to the floor where his dress shirt landed earlier. he trailed kisses from your neck, to your collarbone, to the valley of your clothed mounds and stop when he reached your belly button and blew air on it. he was indeed teasing you, making you moan and feel shivers run down your spine. you can feel your core getting wetter by the second. you felt Akaashi’s hand ghost over the waistband of your jeans and slowly tugged it down your knees, the wet spot on your panties didn’t go unnoticed by his hungry eyes causing him to entirely remove your jeans off of you.

“you’re already so wet for me, love.” he hissed as he reached for the waistband of your underwear. he then slowly tugged it down until your core was so exposed for his prying eyes, he can feel his jeans tigthen, his manhood throbbing inside. his slender fingers sliding into your glistening folds, pushing one finger in and slowly adding another. he sets a pace not too slow or not too fast and the pleasure feels just right. his experienced fingers were working wonders deep within you, hitting every spot without miss. you feel Akaashi growing more and more impatient as his grunts and moans reveberates through your ear.

“fuck foreplay. i want you now.”

and in a swift motion he pulled his jeans down, his hard cock springs up to his abdomen. he leans in and kissed you hard once more as he slipped his hand on one of your breast and slowly sheathed himself into you. the stretch burned from the lack of prep but the feeling of him filling you up to the brim overcomes the sting you were feeling.

“K-Keiji...” you moaned, sending currents onto his half buried cock inside you.

Akaashi lets out a satisfying grunt the moment he bottoms out. “god why are you this tight? you make me feels so good, y/n” he comments as he pulled his cock out leaving you clenching on nothing just to slam it right back in a brutal force. Akaashi is gentle in general, but being away from you for so long made him go feral. his pace as well as his force was so far from being gentle and seeing the hunger and lust on his eyes was enough to make you go wetter once more. with every thrust of his hip onto yours, you can definitely tell he’s ready to give you his all.

the room was filled with mixed moans and grunts coming from the both of you. the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberated through your ear. Akaashi stared down to where the both of you were connected and back to your face contorted with pleasure he was offering you and can’t help but smirk at the sight unfolding in front of his eyes.

“you looked so beautiful so fucked up like this, y/n” and he leans in for a kiss.

you felt the knot starting to coil on your abdomen and Akaashi sensed the you’re close when he felt your walls tightened around his cock. his other hand reached for your clit and started rubbing circles on it eliciting a high pitched moan from you.

“K-Keiji i-i’m cl-close” you said in between your pants.

“let go, love. cum for me” Akaashi whispered to your ear

a few more thrusts and you let the coil snap, making your pussy flutter around Akaashi’s cock. he fucked you through your high as he chases his own release. you wrapped your legs around his waist as to deepen his thrusts into you. you felt his pace go erratic and sloppier by the second and the next thing you felt was warmth spreading inside you as Akaashi filled you with his seeds to the brim while moaning your name over and over.

both of you breathless gasping for air as Akaashi tucked your hair behind your ear and pressed a kiss on your temple. “was i a bit too rough?” he cooed as he smiles at you.

you gently shook your head and leaned closer to kiss him. “nope.”

he chuckles as he slowly pulls out of you and gently laid beside you. he reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers together then kissed your knuckles. “so this is why you declined the idea of facetime-ing earlier?”

“yeap!” you giggled. “i was already at the airport when i called you. i just don’t want to spoil my surprise, you know?” and you kissed the tip of his nose.

“happy birthday, Keiji”

“thank you, love” he leaned in and captured your lips into a longing and passionatekiss.

“i love you.” he whispered into the kiss.

“i love you too, Keiji.”

you stayed cuddled with each other for a while until you heard Akaashi’s stomach growled and the both of you burst out of laughter.

“i think we should just order food, i’m too tired to cook for now.”

“i like that idea.” Akaashi stood up from the bed and lifted you up bridal style earning a gasp from you. “but let’s take a bath first.” he kissed you again. “together.”

and he carried you to the bathroom. a shower sex for the second isn’t a bad idea after all.

taglist: @lollypop-lam @shibayamasbae @keiyoomi @narashikari @lifeisnotdaijoubudeska @princessuchiha314 @kenmakozumeswifey @akasuns @mtsm

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#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi #akaashi keiji #赤足刑事 #akaashi x you #akaashi smut #akaashi drabble #haikyuu #ハイキュー!! #haikyuu!! #hq!! #hq!! drabbles #hq!! imagines #hq!! smut #haikyuu smut #hq!! x reader #hq x you #haikyuu fluff #akaashi fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #akaashi fic #akaashi imagines #akaashi scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #haikyuu scenarios #anna writes

[kuuderekweenfics]

Dabi is Not a Liar

Hello everyone,

This is it. I’ve fallen off the precipice of...what exactly? Sanity? Or, perhaps, lack of shame? Who knows. But this was a fun little piece I wrote about a month ago. I put it up on AO3, but I thought I’d create a Tumblr for future fics since this is a bit more social.

Please keep in mind that I am shaking the dust off my writing and so it may not be the most polished piece of work. Go easy on me. But I hope you enjoy it regardless!

Explicit Warning: non consent or extremely dubious consent.

Fingernails carve into the the filthy brick of the abandoned building nestled by the sea. The pier moaned, it’s cold breath wrapping around your body and reeking sourly of fish and decay. 

Your head hangs low between your hollow arms. How you got yourself into this position is due to several reasons, of course. One, your brain is swollen twofold in your skull, pounding with the weight of lead. Two, shame caresses every part of your body far more thoroughly than the man who currently has you trapped between him and the wall. Three, and most likely the most crucial reason, Dabi, ‘the Cremator’ as he was so often called, has been railing you senseless for the past hour.

You cried yourself dry after about ten minutes. He came quickly the first time, unabashedly getting off on your whimpers and pleas. Where he dug up the stamina to keep his cock hard for another three rounds was a dull ache for your mind, and pussy, to ponder over. 

The strength in your knees escaped long ago. His fingers gripping your bare ass as he currently pounds himself into you, deeper and deeper each time, is the only support you have against gravity. 

He attempts some foreplay occasionally, killing the space between the two of you as he whispers into your ear threats of what is to come and reaches under you to thrash at your clit rough and carelessly. This is, you figured out, more to his benefit than yours; he had to get you more motivated to continue the little game he set for the both of you somehow. You mewl softly when he does, cursing your needy body for betraying your wants.

Because this isn’t what you want. No, no, no. Not even if his thick, veiny cock fills you to the brim and sometimes hits a spot in your core that makes you see stars and silently beg, much to your humiliation, for more.

What you want is to go pro. You just started working for a small agency start up only a week ago. You’ve dedicated to becoming a top ten hero, even if your quirk isn’t the most convenient. But if a guy who’s power was to do laundry could make it to the top, so can you and your absurdly comical gacha quirk. You are able to generate capsules from your hands, ranging anywhere between the size of a tennis ball to a beach ball, but the contents inside are always random. This little inconvenience made your quirk almost entirely useless. Despite it all, you trained hard and got a once in a lifetime opportunity at this agency. Your task today was to survey the pier for any suspicious activity called in by a concerned citizen. You were strictly told not to engage and call for back up as soon as you surveyed something worthwhile. But you immediately ran in, all too confident in your ability at hand-to-hand combat, as if you had something to prove. You crouched behind stacked crates and fumbled through your creations: a teddy bear, a toaster, a tennis racket. Before you could generate another capsule, you heard his whistle behind you. He was crouched, hands lazily in his pockets and looking over your shoulder with a deadpan expression that plainly said you were in over your head. 

But you knew you were quick. The tennis racket sped toward its target only to be crumbled to ash as his hand stopped it an inch from the side of his head. He smiled at you then, not quite reaching his eyes but eerie and menacing all the same. And before you could even fathom throwing the toaster, he pinned your neck to the wall. Your feet kicked helplessly against the brick, unable to find purchase on the floor a inches below. One of your hands pried at his arm while the other reached for his face or his neck or anything you could grab hold of that could cause enough pain to lot weaken his grip. Your breaths came up short, your lungs screamed for a sip of air. 

“It looks like a little mousy lost her way,” he chuckled. “Now whatever am I going to do with you?”

Drool leaked from your mouth as you fought against your restraint and blurred vision. Your mind clawed for consciousness, your body begged for survival. You had come to terms that one day you could potentially meet your end at the hands of a villain, as does any hero in this field of work, but you hadn’t expected it to be so soon. 

You felt the obstruction in your mouth before you saw it. The thumb of his free hand pressed on your dancing tongue, drool pooling where he held it down firm. If the look in his eyes scared you before, now they were wild and carnal and more terrifying. 

He first has his way with you with his hand still around your throat. He let up on his grip and was so gracious enough to let you wrap your legs around him while he impales you without a second thought. 

He grunts. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

You are no longer a virgin, but you’re sure you never experienced cock of this size, all the while without some form of foreplay. Granted, he used your drool to lubricate himself before sheathing himself deep in your gummy walls, the friction elicits a gasp of pain while from you as he moans and nips at your neck. Not long after he begins to thrust do you start sobbing, and soon after that he shoots inside of you, his cock twitching to unload what feels like everything he had. You hope it is over then. He would either kill you or leave you there broken physically and mentally. You find out soon enough it is neither.

“I’m gonna fuck you until your voice is gone from screaming my name, little mousy,” He gasps into your shoulder as the twitching finally ebbs and his release oozes down your thigh. “I’m gonna fill you with my cum until I am sure that when I leave you in this shithole, you will have a little part of me with you for the rest of your miserable life.”

And if there is one thing you can call Dabi, among the million curses and names you can conjure, you aren’t sure if you can call him a liar. For true to his word, albeit only partially, he comes into you, hard and relentless, two more times before starting once more. You are absolutely positive this goes against all modern male biology. But you guess, in a world with bizarre quirks, anything is possible.

Halfway through round four, you feels his fingers weave into your hair and, for a moment, you think Dabi just may capable of being passionate. Or, at the very minimum, maybe he thinks more of you than just a bucket for him to shoot his load in. This moment, you find, is fleeting as he yanks your head back and pulls you up until your back lies flat against his chest. He slowly pulls the zipper of your shirt down and grabs your breast callously, pinching your nipple hard until you cry out. 

You can only imagine that he’s grown bored of your silence and complacency because his other hand reaches around until his fingers find your clit, exposed and hungry for some well-deserved stimulation. His fingers rub small circles against it, and you feel nauseated as you let out a moan, your pussy clenching desperately around him in newly kindled desire.

He hisses at your reaction, an obvious stamp of approval and continues flicking your bundle of nerves as he pumps in and out of you. “Say my name.”

Your mind, which, up until this point, had been lost in a sea of fog, finally breaks the surface. And it is pleading with you to not give in. He speeds up, each thrust hitting the right spot and oh no, oh no, it feels so fucking good.

“Say my name, little mouse.”

Your core coils tight with stimulation, the spring on the precipice of release with the pressure of his calloused fingers. The ache you had felt up until then is replaced with an immense pleasure that you haven’t felt in, let’s face it, ever. You stand on your toes to give him a better angle. Your hands searched for something to anchor onto. One mindlessly reaches above to grab onto his hair as he licks you, hot breath warming your already flush neck, the other latches onto your ignored breast.

“Say it.”

You bucked against him, almost there, almost there, so very close....

Until he becomes utterly and completely still. 

“No, no. Please, Dabi! I need it. Fuck me, please Dabi!” You sob. 

And with that, you feel a smirk form against your neck. He pulls out of you and before you can so much as whimper, he shoves you back onto a large crate. He grabs one leg and forces it up and over his shoulder as he penetrates you, holding your waist to keep you steady as he pumps in fast and hard. His hip bumps into your overstimulated clit with each thrusts and it nearly obliterates you. In this new position, his cock kisses your cervix and, if you ever had any semblance of control since being pounded into, it has all but disappeared.

“Dabi! I’m going to...Ah, shit, I’m gonna...”

As you begin convulsing, you hear his name, loud, hot and heavy, escape from your lips. Your release sends him over the edge, and he ruts into you. 

Just as quickly, he slides out of you, places himself back into his pants and walks out with his hands in his pockets without a word before the cum can so much as leak out of you. You lay still and let the world refocus before you get up and go home. You come to realize that he didn’t so much as care if you came or not, and that the fact that you had was a happy coincidence on your part. What he was really aiming for was you to scream his name, just as he said you would. How little regard villains had felt about others left you in awe. Can you really go head to head against him or any other villain again? 

You submit your resignation the next day.

And two months later, as you stand wide-eyed and frozen over the test exposing itself to you on the bathroom sink, you can finally confirm that Dabi is, in no way shape or form, a liar.

#dubious consent #no consent #ruttingseason #fan fiction #fanfiction #dabi my hero academia #dabi x reader #forced impreg #forcedsex #smut #dabi smut

[lixiefe]

when the darkness falls apart - h.js

grim reaper! reader x mortal! jisung

⎆ Words: approx 10k

⎆ Disclaimer: the entirety of it is brewed from my imagination. But there’s one theory of ‘sacrificing demonic lifeline to turn back time’ which is inspired from ‘A Sealed Contract’ by @mrbangchannie​ (If you see this, i hope you don’t mind) . Everything else is under all rights reserved.

⎆ Summery: When you’re ordered to collect the soul of someone you’re inclined to protect, you can’t but end up saving the mortal. And as time transpires, you find yourself irrevocably in love with him. But that’s greatly forbidden and punishable. So what happens next?

⎆ Genre: aquintances-to-lovers, fantasy, fluff, angst, oneshot.

⎆ Warning: violence, mentions of death.

Prologue: little happiness

The bell chimes in sweet winter, the smell of diverse flowers filling up the store and honeying the atmosphere with a comfortable hue. It was yet another tranquil day, with the citizens snuggling up in warm clothes and walking through the fog in rushed steps. Yet another winter morning, yet another blissful silence, and yet another day of marveling at the colorful flowers. Maybe buying some, but the vases of your home were already stocked with multiple bunch of peonies, roses, orchids, daisies, anything you could name. 

Little, blissful clandestine happiness, things that gave you a beatific nostalgia, which took you to places you couldn’t forget. And you mouth the saleswoman to decorate you yet another bouquet of fresh flowers, because, it’s a small happiness, a small blink of beauty, little appreciation. You loved the feeling of it. So, why not?

"You are very beautiful."

A childlike voice interrupts. You pivot back instantly, eyes falling over the young kid who’s staring at you with heart eyes brimming with coruscating sparkles. You can’t help but break out into a smile. He was so utterly cute, pink fanning his rosy cheeks and jutted lips spread in a small smile. His ruffled black hair amplified his adorable appeal, gorgeous wisps falling over his cute little eyes.

Another happiness? 

"Ah, you think so?" you ask, bending down to his eye-level as a fond smile decorates your lips.

"Yes, miss is really pretty!" He beams up even more, lightly jumping on his heels. You can’t contain the giggle that escapes you at his hopeful cute eyes and that cute button nose. It seemed as if he’d already become one of your worldly weaknesses, debilitated your heart and printed a permanent smile on your face.

“But you’re prettier, sweet guy.”

The pink of his round cheeks get more prominent, his tiny hands attempt to shy his face away from you and a jaw-breaking, precious smile graces him. His squirrel cheeks puff up adorably, enabling you to feel an uncanny urge of squishing them.

Oh how you wanted to squish his fluffy pink cheeks!

"Does miss have a boyfriend?" He asks, blinking heavily as his lashes flutter. You’re charmed, as much you already knew, even more than how the flowers captivate you, even more than you thought you could.

You pretend to think as he awaits your answer. No, you didn’t have one, there wasn’t even a chance to have one. But even so, you wanted to test the waters, to see how he’d react if you had one. So you put on a sympathetic pretense, "Hmm, let me think. Your missy does!" you say.

The boy pouts, doe eyes losing a little of it’s winsome glow, “Miss does?"

"But I like you more, i can leave him for you. What do you say?" you offer mischievously, encasing his soft hands into yours. You suppress the urge of pressing his palm against yours too much, because his small hands were so wretchedly soft, and so so smooth that you wanted to graze your cheeks against them. 

"Miss will be my girlfriend?" He beams up, jumping on his toes for the second time. “Will miss date me?”

"Yes! Who wouldn't want a sweet little boyfriend like you?"

He jounces up and down, smiling with visible gums as his hold on your hands get tighter. You almost can’t believe the way he endears you, soft baby hands providing a warmth you’ve long missed, a solitude you’ve almost forgotten. 

"Miss is my girlfriend now! Can i give you a kiss?"

The proposal takes you off guard, but there’s no way you can refuse. You smile widely at him, a light hearted laugh emanating you effortlessly.

"Of course, here you go." you advance your cheeks towards him, tapping on the flesh as you signal him to go for it. He jumps on his toes excitedly, cheering himself as if he's won a trophy, a little shy too. Nonetheless, he doesn't delay, instantly planting a moist little peck on your cheek, in the cutest way possible.

You chuckle heartily, ruffling his hair as you return the kiss on both of this soft cheeks.

"You're such a cute boy."

You

You're an immortal messenger of the devil who delivered souls that brought upon their own demise. You’ve never liked the job, never sincerely delivered in the sadistic way they’d presumed you would. You almost hated it. You hated how you felt so much more than the emotionless beings of your comrades, hated the fact that they’d thought you were like them. But there was nothing you could do but comply. For the countless eternities and decades of promotion after promotion.

So you’d taken up the facade of being like them, pretended under a veiled mask that you’d felt nothing, seen nothing, heard nothing. But only you knew how agonizing their cries were, how a little more assuration, a little comfort could’ve prevented their fate, how their will to escape staggered them in every way. The pain they held, eyes shimmering with the wee life force before it was gone into nothing but a splatter of blood and lifelessness. 

The worst part of it was that, you felt them too.

That is exactly why you feigned indifference, bit into hard rock and pinched your skin to just bear with it. it was agonizing yes, but what was to be done? The last thing you could do was give them the little assuration, the little support, the little provision which they could not receive in their livelihood. So you’ve always asked them what they desired the most, what they wanted to see, what they wanted to know before the life was taken away from them.

All their wishes were trivial and easy to fulfill, except one. You still remembered it vividly, the man in his thirties, with fraught desperation, told you in choked words.

“I want you to look after my son, make sure he doesn’t die early. I want him to live a fulfilled life. Would you please? This is my last wish.”

It was impossible for you ensure a prolonged life. You had no control over their death, if the council informed you to collect their souls, you’d have to, painfully and fraudulently watch them embrace eternal slumber, guide their suffered souls into underworld. The best you could do, was hope his reaper would not be the likes of you.

But you sure could watch over him. Watch him grow.

“Han Jisung is his name, he’s the most adorable kid in the entire universe. He’d almost remind you of a squirrel.”

“Don’t know if you’d reciprocate, but he’s the apple of my eye. He’s been born as the best child by default you know.”

Of course you knew Han Jisung. And he really was the best kid. You watched him grow bit by bit, observed as he injured himself but did not cry, watched as he fell on his knees and stared at the ground, as he waddled to his mother’s room at night and wiped her dry tears with his tiny hands, you saw when he learned everything by himself, did everything by himself and placed a pure kiss on his mother’s cheeks before he took off to school.

You could cry because of him, yet you improvised him as long as you could. You watched when his mother came home after a hectic day, he’d always have a glass of cold water and snacks prepared. He’d relish in his mother’s embrace and showcase that same beautiful smile. And that’s all he’s ever wanted. He knew from such a young age what his mother was capable of and what she wasn’t. A quiescent kid he was.

He became your biggest happiness in a short time never prophesied.

But soon enough, you’d gotten tangled up into purgatory work and forgotten about your duty in a whole. That is until one day, you received a card in all its luxurious parchment glory, with the same name and an adult face stamped in the middle. A face too much like him.

“The fuck?”                                                                                                         You've never cared so much when it came to collecting close to death souls. Even though you've always made sure to arrive before time, so that they could get their one wish, but this time, reaching before the catastrophe wasn't your main concern. You wanted to be impossibly early, to prevent, to advert the incident from occurring.

The fear grips you like never before, hands in a frightful fist as your brain engages in arbitrary functioning, the location more like a blur than a clear map in your head. Somehow, as you remember his sweet smile and baby antics, the thought of ‘no, he couldn't die' circles as a repetitive carol in the spans of your head.

What really happened when you weren't there? How had he been? How had he stumbled upon such situation?

Keeping those questions aside, you scramble to gather the mist in your palms as it camouflages you into an eggshell of smoke and transports you into the map you’ve envisaged in your mind. It’s utterly confusing how a letter you’d gotten just four minutes ago was a predicament for someone already dying in sun’s wake. Because, you’d naturally be there to witness a series of painful conjugations, be there to listen to voice in their head, suffer with them.

But now? The scenery unravels in front of you with the boy already falling in grand aptitude from high above what you surmised was a student hostel. A current of sheer panic washes over you greater than ocean waves, with your brain scrambling for any solution to preclude what was to happen. No, he couldn’t die, he couldn’t. On an unforeseen impulse, impetuosity took the best of you and before you could control your nerves, you were enforcing an opaque parapet right above your head, inhibiting his fall on a sudden note.

This was bad, very bad. It went against all the rules and regulations of underworld reaper committee, but what could you do now? The reapers held strong prohibitions on the case of saving someone, or even administering personal power for human beings. And the entire reaper population were to abide by it, were to live in anonymity like obsequious beings for the underworld.

And you didn’t just break it, you severed and thrashed open the bondage of regulations, and used your abilities to save someone whose heart still beat, blood still flowed.

How you were doomed!  

Even though the tension of ‘no, he couldn’t die’ dissipated with you inhibiting him in the air, another steam of panic settles in your guts. What were you going to do now? How could you save yourself?

It was all in your hands. What if you don’t write the post-duty reports? What if you burn every little evidence of him even dying in the first place? What if you erased all the traces of your forbidden deed? Would you able to save yourself?

Even if it did not work, it was worth a shot. Because at the short momentum, that’s all you could think of, that’s all the solution that occurs to you.

You set him close to the ground, the wall you empowered still supporting his back. In a hassle, you bring out the card and snap your fingers. Purple fire instantly engulfs the magical parchment, traces of pastel fragments emanating from it as it burned down to ashes. It took terse time and terse patience, before the burned ashes disappeared into oblivion.

Anything of underworld did not co-exist in living universe.

And so, burning it was the best choice you could make when it wouldn’t disappear by itself.

Because you hadn’t done your job in the first place.

You look at him through distraught eyes. He was there, sound unconscious and alive, breathing. You huff out a relieved sigh. You’ve saved him. Under formidable and punishable efforts, you’ve still saved him.

“I’m keeping your promise through thick and thin, you old soul. Do you see, mister?”

Han Jisung

He’d woken up in a scurry of hazardous dilemma, questioning his entire existence and a possible amnesia because, “How the fuck did I end up here?” So you did best and knocked him out under slumber’s spell, and went back to admiring how well he’d grown.

Han Jisung did not sleep like you’d envisioned him to, instead he tucked himself in a cocoon, hogging the blanket under his arms and legs and forming himself in a pithy, s shaped gnome. However, he slept peacefully, too tensionless and too comfortably,

His head was a tuft of messy black locks, akin to the fluffy hair you’d seen when he was just a young boy. Under all improvised circumstances, he was pretty- pretty handsome. Lips apart and breathing softly, you were sure he was deep asleep. Smidgens of the little boy you’d known was still there, but sketched and furnished into a beautiful young man that took your breath away.

But what really happened? What drove him to jump from such a high balcony? Where was the optimistic cheerful persona you knew? Then again, life could’ve hard, he’d had to fend for himself and his mother too. It must’ve been difficult.  

You weren’t even there.

You’d decided to stay there, get a little sleep even though you didn’t need it and disappear before he awakens. He wouldn’t be able to see you anyways.

Well, that was the plan to say the least.

“OH MY- fuck!!!” the loud, booming voice jolts you up from your pretentious slumber, a haphazard stretch of limbs being the first thing you focus on. You’d be panicked, freaked out by the way he’d oh so strangely bellowed to the fuck. But it’d be utter stupidity to stress over something that cannot happen. It was an established fact that you could not be seen unless it was the dead, so you blew a raspberry and grabbed your hat.

You took a look at him, seeing his panicked eyes staring right into your own, but that cannot happen right? You stretch your lips into a monotonous line, tight lipped and expressing the exhaustion you harbored.

You’d be sure to check on him.

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” he screams, backing up against the wooden surface of the bed, sheer fright and tremor evident in his crusade.

What?

“If you’re a thief, I swear I have nothing here. I’m dirt poor and I’d really like some financial help right now, please just don’t take away my tuition fees, I have worked so hard for them. I’d trade my life if you want but please just don’t--”

You blankly gape at him and his hands gesturing the desperation of his tone into what looked like a praying stance. He rambles on, until, he looks to have been struck by lightning; some sort of momentous realization meeting him midway as he stills in his place.

“Wait, didn’t I fall from the balcony?”

He seems to have completely forgotten about your existence, completely unbothered by your silent intrusion. But his question leaves you breathless. What if he asks you anything about that, what would you say? What can you say?

His head snaps back to you, the same fright overtaking his orbs as he stares at you in horror. “Did I die? Are you the angel that’ll take me to heaven?” he assumes. As much trenchancy you felt to have been called a heaven angel, despite being an atrocious hellish soul collector, you opted to respond. But your gaping lips were what remained, not a word able to disclose as you were abruptly interrupted by another one of his ridiculous suppositions.

“Nonono, you don’t look even a bit like an angel. Am I going to hell then? Oh my god! Oh my lord! What have I done in these short years of life?!” he exclaims, wailing his hands over his head. A sentimental horror passes by him as if you looked appalling to the eyes. Even though being offended was uncharacteristic to you, you couldn’t help but feel snubbed at the way he looked at you.

“Is this how it ends? I couldn’t even receive my last salary, it was due in only a week! I really really wanted to drink that oreo smoothie again, oh my god, that was my last wish. What will happen now? What will turn of me? Felix would be so disappointed, we even had a gaming appointment! Now what-”

“You’re not dead.”

He halts dead in his ramble, one of his hands tangled into the mess of his hair and the other in accordance to his expression. The relief almost launders over him, but the terror in his eyes don’t disappear. He’s still harboring the doe eyes and tremulous lips even as you return monotonous gaze.

“Then? Then what happened?” he questions.

“You…..you didn’t fall.”

You’d hoped he’d swallow up that answer and not interrogate further. But even though his rambles prove him to be specified under dim-witted species, he doesn’t take up your reasoning.

“That’s scientifically impossible. According to my weight, if I fell from a thirty meter height with a gravitational velocity of almost nine point eight meter per second, taking the air friction in consideration, I’d have crushed to the ground in approximately three point zero six one seconds. I live alone, so someone holding me up is out of the question, its also not possible to rescue me at the middle point, because which superhero Robin would sweep me away when I was practically flying? I could only be saved at point C; which is the end. Saying I didn’t fall is factually incorrect.” He rambles, deep into thinking and in his calculative mental space.

You sport an astonished look at his rather immaculate mathematical perceptive, your nervous system pointing you stupid instead. Eyes wide and mouth gawked open, you wonder how on earth such a person can ramble on and on about heaven and hell’s angel when he’d calculated the entire situation and someone’s inability to save him in mere seconds; that too, in a ramble.

But your mind instantly scurries back to how you’d respond to that, how you’d present an explanation to him that’d be reasonable for his perspective.

“You- you. I saved you! At point C!” you reply hastily, snaking your hands together into a convincing hold.

“That’s not considerable either. Did I not fall ontop of you? How are you unscathed?” he questions, placing his index finger under his chin in an improvisation of logical thinking.

“No, no I mean..” your words trail off, but there’s barely anything you can think of. So you take the first bait that enlightens you and splutter, “You were dreaming! Yes, you were dreaming. I heard you say I saved you in your sleep. yeah.”

“Is that so? I never knew I sleep talked,” he looks to be in even more doubt now, more so in an internal distrust with his self-critic that hadn’t told him of his sleep habits; but bites onto it anyways. “That was such a realistic dream then.”

“Yeah, haha. How funny, right?” you exclaim, stemming a nervous laughter to seem as natural as you can. But years of isolation had decreased your speaking skill to a level so beneath that you couldn’t even apprehend how low it went. Nonetheless, you anticipate his reaction.

He wears a confused look, his hands now proceeding to leisurely rest above his lap. “What are you doing here by the way? How did you get in here?” he narrows his eyes at you.

Shit, what now?

You let out another whimsical laughter, buying yourself a little time to think of any reasonable excuse. Please, mind, please don’t disappoint me.  “Oh me? i- yeah! I was moving here. And your door was open, so I mistook your apartment as mine, yeah.”

The words come out in a stutter, but he doesn’t pay any heed to it. Instead he maintains his confused state, brows together in a scrunch as if he’s been ripped off of his information rights. “I didn’t hear any news about that, how-”

“It was sudden! Haha, the landowner was informed just today.” You say, rubbing your hands together.

He smacks his lips together, seemingly have bought nice and fair onto your situational lie. He smiles afterwards, short and sweet, compelling your fingers to stop rubbing against each other.

“Well then, welcome here.”

Your mouth takes an oval shape, a little relief also careening its way through into your heart. Because, you’ve survived it. You’re successfully passed the dreadful moment with your terrible social skills.

“Yes, thank you.”

You both stare at each other in the unreasonable silence. You being the out of place bone as he signals you something with his eyes. You’re not sure if you want to smack your head with a hammer for being so utterly stupid that you cannot get him, but you’re sure you’re dumb enough for him to look done after a few seconds.

You stand to your place, awkwardly returning his gaze and him repeatedly wrinkling his eyes. When suddenly, he releases a huff, offering you a tight lipped smile.

“Would you mind getting out then?”

The next day, you’re in grave danger, head straight into a hole you’ve carved for yourself. You’d oh so foolishly told him that you were moving, which in reality you didn’t even require an abode, but let’s stick to the situation. So you’ve inquired with the land owner to assist you into getting an apartment in the building. She’d refused quite gently, persisting that there were no empty flats.

Until when you opted to leave with dejected steps, she hollered you back and offered you a shared home, mentioning how the boy was looking for a roommate for a long time because of his rather pitiful financial stability. At first, you’d been anxious, on the way to reject the suggestion straight away.

“Ah, it’s a boy named Han Jisung, room number 614.”

Of course you had no problem with that. Even more so, it could quite righteously justify your early actions. With an elaborate nod, you agreed to it. Now all that remained was the struggle of moving. Which brought you to the ultimate overwhelming coincidence of meeting him again, because you swore to the lord, you hadn’t a single idea of modern world and communication ways.

“Hello! Nice to meet you, I’m your new roommate, mister?” you exclaim, trying your best to mask your internal conflicts in the sanctity of your brain. But your lips still twitch a little as you struggle to whack a smile on your face.

“Oh, I’m Han Jisung. Nice to meet you too. But I thought you were moving yesterday?” he questiones, making way for you to get in with your rather small luggage. You look around in faux awe, as if you’d observed his abode for the first time.

It wasn’t a pleasant sight.

Shoes scattered along the sides of the front door, the door mat completely hidden under the pile. Pillows littered over the cushion and an iconic pair of popcorn bowl and coke bottle atop the ground. The curtains were in a disorderly manner, tangled along the objects on the floor. In all, the home depicted his natural bed hair, yet was livable to say the least.

“Oh, that got delayed because of an urgent work.” You reply, much-thrilled.

“I see.”

After that started your little adventure of staying visible throughout every human interaction and introducing yourself as an aspiring fashion designer who lived as roommates with Han Jisung. Staying at home had been fairly easy, because apparently, Jisung saw you even when you were shrouded behind reapers magic, by some uncoordinated miracle. Or maybe, he was the miracle.

Other than the background information about him, which you already knew, you’ve got to know he’d thankfully had his own friend circle, an active social life and nice company. He was quite amiable among his camaraderie, often seen face timing a certain lad named Felix. Even though he appeared less than diligent in domestic chores, he still got them done at the end of the day.

By the thread.

You’d also gotten to know that the incident of that day was in no way, him striving towards death. It wasn’t pessimism crawling up his conscience and actions driven by distress. It wasn’t what you’d imagined at all. Instead, he’d very innocently slipped on his balcony floor and flailed his hands to get a reach of any hard surface. But it was too late and by that time, he was screaming and soaring in the air like an airborne chicken.

Such a foolish way to die, you thought.  

“Oh my god, Jisung! Watch out.”

You holler as you notice a puddle of water on the floor, about to be stepped on by the sock clad feet of han Jisung who’d so graciously walked around like he wasn’t any sort of untidy. You hope to rescue him from digging his own expiry, but he responds rather late, offering you the same doe eyed confused look when his feet was already drenched by the liquid.

“What-” he slips with a demonic screech, landing ass first onto the hard floor. He instantly grimaces and yelps in pain, mumbling a series of profanities at his rotten luck. However, he seems to be more bothered by the fact that his sock was drenched in water, and not the probability that his hipbones could be dislocated.

Unique in his own way.

His feet arbitrary with their every step, and his mind far into mare’s nest; you didn’t know how he’d survived before you came. You were a stark contrast to his disorderly attitude, spruce and tidy in your every work. As the days passed by and you both became much closer, your eyes stuck into his brown orbs a little too much, exchanged prolonged stares a little too much, burst smiles too effortlessly and engaged in playful contact too spontaneously.

“Crying is alright, Jisung. I think it’s what makes us stronger, don’t you think?” you ask, thumb gliding over the apple of his cheek in an attempt to wipe the sadness away along with the tears garnishing his cheeks.

He looks into your eyes in the same fervor, glossed with prickling tears and holding miles of constellation in the confines of two clinquant orbs. You wound your arms around his neck, pulling him in and sighing as his tears soak into your clothes.

That’s all you could do, provide him the peace, the comfort he needed. No words, no nothing. Just a simple, innocent security you shared in each other’s sympathy.

“Mmm…..you’re warm,” he murmurs into your neck, “I don’t want to wake up.”

“Wake up?”

“This feels like a dream. Too good to be true, is it not?” he asks, lashes fluttering against your skin. A huff leaves his lips, fanning your neck and the slight tickle makes you shiver.  

You’re left speechless, his words spinning in your brain like some sort of chant in impending festivals wake. Too good to be true, was it really? His hold tightens for a brief second, before you feel him attempting to break away.

But you pull him back, softly twirling his hair as you let the bliss take over you. You feel him tense against you, a little surprised at something so unlikely to have happened, or maybe, maybe at the close proximity he wouldn’t have suspected to last for longer than a few puny seconds. Just for now. Just once. “No no, you can’t get away. You’re my prisoner for now,” you demand, fondly smiling.

Jisung reciprocates with even more effort, instantly pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you. Even though the tables have turned and now, you were the prisoner trapped in his cozy arms, you couldn’t have cherished this more. You make a mental effort to forget about the repercussions that followed, and simply smile- capture every second of the warmth you shared, encrypt it into your brain and let the consequences follow time.

“That’s fine by me.”

You nod, then fell silent again, simply relishing in the bliss time provided you. You wanted to make the best out of it, let your feelings control you. You didn’t want a lecture of logical reasoning on how this was formidable for someone like you, from your own brain. And as the paradise engulfed and overpowered your every senses, you couldn’t even think in coherent thoughts.

“Kiss me.”

Then your cheeks tinted pink, the flushed hue being an involuntary delegate to the feelings you could not hide. The moment you shared under the moonlight and the faint, tiny whisper of confessions ahead of time. So painfully transient, yet so surreal, chimerical. At least for someone like you.

The universe is so cruel, so conceited. So against you.

That night, the moon was drunk, the stars intoxicated. With the sins of the sun and the sadness of the sky. Shifts and blurs from the earth’s horizon and you stare, wondering why the universe never loved you back.

It seemed like a divine miracle that someone you'd never have thought to be associated with turned into your greatest pleasure. The world an imminent distraction with the time adhering into a conspiracy against your every wishes, gleaming at the abomination you'd caused yourself. He was your ephemeral salvation. An acute path of escape, from the atrocities of the universe that envied your blasphemous destiny and the ravaging ethics of your very being.

From wherever he emerged from, involving himself into your life like an iridescent crystal, glowing against your dark heart with its indestructible luminosity. You were above in the sky, in gratitude of the blessing fate offered you. Inspite of you trying your best to push him away, to avoid the disappointment that came with love, he'd slowly but surely crept his way into your freezing heart. Canopying it in his warmth with such dulcet fervor, such determination, until you felt like a vulnerable human, one that encapsulated a beating heart. But in a good way, because, he was the witness of your tainted self, not anyone else.

How can he struggle to open a door when the whole wall was nothing but an illusion?

At this point, he turned into your weakness, into something that held back the infamous grim reaper. Your pillar that upheld you with vigor, restraining your every desolation, your every pessimism. And you knew, your dependence was not something you now abhorred. Instead, you couldn’t be glad enough that it was him.

Before you knew it, you enjoyed your abbreviate alone times, thought of him after every deliver, desired to see the smile of his face in your free time. Albeit every trivial desires were discreet, concealed and inclined from deep within you, but you couldn’t help giving into what were worldly fantasies for you.

Just a little more, just one more look, one more second, one more touch.

This was wrong, so so wrong. The council couldn’t know about it, not at all. If news got out that the rock hard grim reaper who transited pained souls has caught feelings for a mortal, you would be done for. Not only did it go far against the most strict rules activated, but also went against the flow of realms. You, a practical demon from the underworld could never entangle yourself with temporal realm humans.

But the universe was never on your side as it seemed. Because the council had gotten leaked information that you’d given life to someone who was already dead in their notes. There was no way Han Jisung could live, the higher ups had to remove every trace of the mortal ever being saved. If the principal gods sniff a hint of such mishaps, you, along with the council that controlled your every movement would be buried and thrown into purgatory before you retired from the given duties.

As always, everything was against you, against your forbidden happiness and the love you’d brewed out of a cold heart.

Like whisper from the air, a note drops onto your lap. You know it’s another death call by the same uniform parchment and scrubby texture of the paper. You sigh, picking it up as you flip it around.

Han Jisung.

20:12 o’clock

Your eyes widen in horror, hands already shaking as you fumble to look for your watch. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t. You’re on the verge of breaking down when the terror creeps into you like it’s always belonged there, the fear gripping your heart like incandescent steel.

20:22 o’clock

They played you, they delayed it intentionally.

In a hassle with your brain locating his whereabouts, purple mist smokescreens around you as it transports you into a different environment.

Your heart aches with even more trepidation when you look around to find the said tussock of hazel hair. But your eyes divert to a commotion on your right, people surrounding into thick crowd. You pinpoint the place, throwing your hat onto the road and push past the crowd.

There he was, drenched in blood with scattered grocery around him; eyes closed with no signs of breathing.

“No!” you scream, instantly breaking into a demented sob. Crouching down, you gather his hands into yours. You didn’t care if the blood stained you, didn’t care if you looked frantic. The wails broke out of your chest with a stinging pain coursing within. You look up at the sky with a ferocity you never knew you had, cursing the upper lords and the council.

It was entirely your fault, you knew it too. But you couldn’t contain the hatred towards the council.

“Is this what you wanted huh?” pressing a bite on your lips, you continue, “To take everything away from me just like this?”

You scoff, chagrined. “ I never agreed to be the undead, never wanted an eternal life feeding onto souls that have suffered, souls that repented for their innocence, repented for the life you gave them. Is this how you punish me?”

“You sent me, a grim reaper for grieved souls, to collect a soul that wasn’t even murdered! You’ve never offered me normalcy, people who died of age, instead choosing to torment me along with them.” You grimace, even more detestation overtaking your very being.

A sadistic smile rips out of your chest, the singular thoughts of saving him circulating around your every rational perceptive. You abruptly kneel down, sneering at the sky as you state your final words, “I do not want such punishment. Burn me in the fires of hell, but I quit the status you so graciously bestowed upon me. Upper lord, Hades! I offer you my span of life in exchange of time.”

It’s almost as if you could hear the council cursing your existence, much words of slander recurring with hushed repetitions. It’s almost as if they drown you out, they condense and monopolize around your head like canon smoke from a warred terrain. You didn’t particularly care if you did the right thing or not, you just had to defame the council, show them that their sly skills weren’t one to be proud of.

Even if it meant giving yourself away.

Swoosh!

Rotate right, rotate left, flip over.

Pushed aside, dragged down, rotate right, rotate left and-

“Oh my god!” you huff heavily, slapping at your chest as you struggle to breath. The air is completely knocked out of your chest, your stomach and throat accompanying the pain as they burn sorely. But you do not dwell on it. Right after, your mind strikes with the grotesque images of dying Jisung; not talking, not moving, not watching, not breathing, not alive.

Ah yes, time. I turned back time.

“Jisung, Jisung!” you whisper through strained throat, noticing that this’d been your last recruit location. You scramble to sit up, planking on your elbows as you push yourself up.

19:50

If he died at 12 minutes near the house, that too, after buying groceries. He must be home right now.

Without a second thought, you vanish out of the settlement and re-appear in front of your shared apartment. With adrenaline rushing in you to the best, you twist the doorknob, immediately sprinting inside. You frantically search for the familiar silhouette, breathing, moving, walking.

“y/n?”

Jisung.

You whip around instantly, eyes wide at the sight of your worried Jisung. He looks at you with his glimmering set of eyes and lips in a frowned pout. You’ve succeeded, you’ve retrieved back time and here he is, in his stupid glory and alive- breathing, walking, speaking.

And that’s when all your synthetic guard falls apart in sobs of relief, along do you; fall to the ground with a foreign liquid streaming down your cheeks. Mind static and limbs unwilling to work. You don’t hold back either, you let the wave take over you, you let the weakness show in the tremble of your hands.

He’s alive, breathing, speaking. Alive.

You cry your heart out.

“W-why are you crying?” he asks, voice shaken. He crouches down in front of you, cupping both of your hands into his as he searches for your eyes. You clutch onto his hands tighter- they were warm, and soft, very soft; nothing like the cold, lifeless hands you’d held minutes ago. Your sobs get heavier, cries erupting from within as you lean into him, dropping your head onto his chest.

“Please, tell me. What happened? What’s wrong?” he soothes in sheer desperation, reciprocating the tenacious hold of your hands in an attempt to comfort you. “Please talk to me about it. I can’t bear you crying like this, please.”

Your sniffs come to a gradual halt as your limbs gain a little strength. You disentangle your fingers and wreathe your arms around his torso. He stiffens up for a second, before easing up and slanting closer to you.

You respire a huffed breath, “You’re here with me right?” 

Jisung wraps you into him, resting his chin on your head. You feel his jaw shift into a smile as he speaks, “I’m always here with you. I’ll always be here with you.”

Such hopeful words. You wish you could tell him how wrong he was, how diaphanous, how unrealistic it was to think you’d always stay together. It’s forbidden from every aspect, extremely, utterly, terribly wrong. Yet so pure, so real. But you don’t burst his little bubble of happiness.

“Please don’t go out. We can buy groceries later, not now please. Not today,” you mumble, hoping he’d catch you. For some reason, he doesn’t question you, doesn’t ask how you know he was going out for groceries. He simply agrees with a comforting smile, saying, “Sure, alright I won’t go today. I’ll be here with you, hmm?”

Little tranquility, little happiness, little appreciation.

No, you’d like to rephrase that. Because Han Jisung was your pillar, a gigantic supplier of happiness. He was the very tranquility, the very happiness, the very appreciation. There was just nothing little, nothing scarce.

You stay silent for a few, trying to convince yourself that you have succeeded, he’s alive and with you. He’s not going anywhere, at least for the time being.

 In the momentary heat, your mouth speaks ahead of your mind and fingers grasp onto his shirt ahead of thinking. In the momentary bliss, as something takes over you, you whisper clear and low, “I-I love you Jisung, I really do.”

The realization dawns upon you right the next second. Your cheeks flare pink and face shies from him. You bury yourself even more, pressing your lips as the shyness fleets its way into you in big, battering waves. But so does the cruelty of the reality that you didn’t want to live in.

“I-I….” Jisung stutters. His fingers loosen from your back and you’re almost scared. Scared of what he’d say. Maybe he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, or maybe he wasn’t ready for the commitment that followed, even though there couldn’t be any. However it was, you respond before him,

“I just wanted you to know. That I think the world of you. You make me so incredibly happy, for no reason at all. I don’t want to live in the reality, Jisung. Please take me away.”

Something about the desperation in your tone shakes him, but the breathy stutters of your tone tells him you have more to say. So he waits, anticipating your next words.  

“All I want is you, take me away Jisung.” you say.

Jisung doesn’t question again, instead he rubs circles onto your back. You feel him breaking away from you, hands trailing up your arms as he cups your cheeks. Smiling softly, “Then, do you want me to make you something warm and forget about everything that’s troubling you?” he offers.

You relish in the smile he gives you. Lets just enjoy the last moments you’d get, make the most of it. 

You smile back, wiping your tears with you sleeves as you nod vigorously. He’s always known the best solutions for you, your little habits and what consoled you best.

“A big mug. I can share with you.”

“Deal.”

Then he plants a sweet, truncate kiss on your forehead, keeping his lips there longer than anticipated. If it weren’t for the blasphemy your destiny had to offer, you’d have said, surety in your veins, that the moon in it’s vicarious ways blessed and secured you. The sun, in it’s rapturous ways scorned the upper lords and formulated you shelter with the apricity.

But how the universe was against you!

Jisung is very acutely introduced and indulged into pointless overthinking. But this time, his mind didn’t wander to the fishes of the sea or the regal mermaids or the plushies he threw away. Surreal, absolutely unrealistic. That’s how he’d describe you. Because there was no way he could get the images of that night away from his mind. Soft and succulent lips moulded with his in such perfectness, such grace. That’s the first time he’s cried in front of someone, shed tears upon tears and vanquished the bottled feelings.

That’s also the first night he realized, he was so utterly, purely and innocently in love.

Engaging himself into watching the previous episode of the on going sitcom because you were currently bathing was not the best idea. Because he realized by the next fifteen minutes that he’s been replaying his memories over and over and has miraculously finished the bowl of popcorn. He peers over to the room, watching for any signs that you’d be likely to come back soon enough.

But there’s nothing. He slumps over, pausing the tv as he does so.

All of a sudden, there’s a blinding light, fluorescent and disturbingly shiny. Jisung shields his eyes almost immediately. The light is too much, too bright and too warm that he feels as if hes standing under straight sunlight. But it also eludes a type of comforting blanket, warm and fresh.

The light begins to lighten and he unveils his hands, coming face to knee with three or so equally bright beings. They stand tall, clad in pure white clothing with a pair of magnimous wings by their arms. Jisungs mouth lacks open, in better than best confusion and wilderment. What is even happening?

Jisung doesn’t know to how to feel, how to react. He simply stands up, eyes widened as he eyes over the tall men; and their peculiar wings. Feathers purer than milk and glimmering with a glory he’s never known. Fear, confusion, anticipation, he doesn’t know what emotions consume him. But hes sure enough that anger is one of them.

But why? Its another question he has yet to decipher.

“We are here to recruit Han Jisung to the gates of the underworld.” The one at front speaks, voice orotund and drop down intimidating. He sports no amount of assurance on his face, just plain impassivity and calm monstrosity. Jisung wonders how they knew his name, furthermore, why they would recruit him to underworld.

“W-what?” Jisung questions, much-afraid.

The man walks closer to him, squinting his eyes in ulterior judgment as he rakes his eyes from Jisung’s top to bottom. His gray empty eyes look into Jisung’s warm brown ones, lips in a thin line. “Are you Han Jisung?” he enquires.

Jisung is shaken to the core, part of him wanting to even façade a brave aura, and the other part wanting succumb to the situation and see what happens. However, the confusion doesn’t suffice, instead grows even stronger.

“I mean, yeah, yes I am,”

They give him a pointed look, as if almost disgusted at him for an unknown cause. But the man raises a hand, white translucent smoke emerging from his palms. Jisung sees a reflection of himself in the smoke ball, him walking near his balcony. It was the same day, the same dream, and the same clothes. But the scene doesn’t continue after he slips, it only repeats, as if there is no continuation; there never was.

The lighted man shifts his eyes back to Jisung, “You are supposed to be dead in the realm of the living. There is whatsoever no record of your existence in the reports of the archangels. Worry not, you will not suffer for her mistakes. The angels shall make sure of it.”

What?

Furrowed brows and a dreaded confusion takes elongated homage on Jisung’s face. A type of hollow terror sets inside his chest, carving its sanctity inside the warmth within him. He opens his mouth so speak, but stutters in the air.

“Whose mistake are you talking about?” Jisung asks, alarm filling him.

“The demon reaper who saved you on 10th of july. It is strictly prohibited to prevent natural death of humans, reaper’s duty is to collect the soul, not burn every traces of you being dead. She will bear the punishment of her deeds.” The man recites, eyes vacant and visually annoyed.

The flashbacks trail after his thoughts. Your pretty face and the way you talked to him. The way you sat there and spoke of words he couldn’t but be convinced by. He realizes he was such a fool, to have to effortlessly believed you.

“You- you. I saved you! At point C!”

“You were dreaming!”

White lies, weren’t they?

“No no no, what are you even saying?” 

Jisung clicks his tongue, palms tacky with perspiration that dread offered so graciously. His fingers move about in an oblique gesture, a thing he’s grown to stem whenever situations slipped out of his grasp.

There’s a low thudding, cautious and concise footsteps resonating through the thick tension in the air. but jisung’s too cossetted into his own jumbled thoughts to notice that, instead continues stemming the same oblique rhythms with his fingers. He doesn’t even notice as the man snickers obnoxiously, eyes caught onto something behind him.

“Wretched wench.” The man curses, and that’s when jisung’s eyes snap behind him; and to you. He turns around completely, part of his nerves finding solace in your teary eyes, reddened nose, quivering lips; in you. No, this can’t happen, this can’t be true.

It was hard to believe something other worldly, something out of his far imaginations. Was he really in love with the grim reaper that was ordered to collect his soul? That sounded too foolish, too illogical. You, a human of blood and flesh; you couldn’t be a reaper; or could you?

“y/n, is this true?”

You nod, mustering the little voice you could, “Yes, it is.”

The look he gives you is enough to shed down layers upon layers of confidence you’d built, coats upon coats of preparation for this very moment and years upon years of strength.

“Why did you lie then? Why did you not tell me that you were….you were not human?”

A carving, threatening pain is what you feel. It’s time, it’s over. Everything was over now. Consternation and guilt gathers you in their inviting arms, raising, imbuing the feelings you knew were to come. Hopeless, you were hopeless.

You look down, biting your lips. Arms limp by your side, you say nothing, do nothing.

I couldn’t tell you, I’m sorry, Jisung.

“And she shall be punished for committing the forbidden and falling in love with a mortal. Also for turning back time to save the same mortal, which has also deducted 2/3 of her lifespan.”

It’s like the ceiling, the roof, the sky falls down on Jisung as the inexpressive man relays his verdict. In no worlds would he have thought you’d sacrifice your life to turn back time, that too with such a trivial purpose of saving him. He looks at you in disbelief, also something along the notes of sadness, dejection. But there’s also love, a love that seeps out of him in gradient waves as if he doesn’t want the reality to transpire more cruelty. He finally gets you, understands all the times you wanted time to stop, reality to shift.

How could you do this for him? With no care for yourself?

“I’m so sorry, Jisung. I just…I’m sorry.” Your tears burst forth like water from a dam, knees bucking underneath and hard onto the floor. A demon gifted with selflessness, is not a demon. Can never be. At this moment, you do not care about the pretense of cruelty you maintained all through the years, the sadistic image you brewed for the higher ups, the estrangement you were caught in.

So perhaps it may be an oddity to thank your tears and be proud to cry, yet if that's what saves you from becoming a monster, a person indifferent to suffering and sorrow, then crying is the smartest thing you could do.

“Are you sorry for falling in love with me?”

A simplistic, straight forward question with a same, sempiternal answer that would never change, at least not for you.

“Not in a single lifetime,” you speak, clear and loud.

Through the emancipating dread and quagmire of mixed tension, he smiles at you. Why, you wonder; but then again, it was Han Jisung, someone who found little happiness, little appreciations in the minutest caricatures, even more efficaciously than you. The angels just stand there, wings spread and apart as if to swallow him in them. He proceeds towards you, not knowing the consequences, not knowing the regulations.

You figured he wouldn’t care anyways.

It takes the angels less than a second to react consequentially as Jisung is immediately wreathed and constrained into the hold of the guard angels. Instincts work the fastest for Jisung and he thrashes against them.

“Give me some fucking time!”

They knew, you knew, it was to no avail. It was impossible to emancipate oneself from angel’s guards; it would take great strength to even loosen one of their hold, much less get away. But you don’t tell him that. What would happen is the best for him, much better than a life that followed loving a demon like you.

Hopeless thoughts and you couldn’t even stop the tears.

At this moment, your wings cleave out of your back in tethering tentacles, the first form of demonic wings. You fall down, a hiss following suit. They spread wide around you, canopying you into a cocoon the second after. You know that ugly, dark red blood drops down your back, stains the scars of your wings unpleasantly. 

Jisung wants to rush to you so badly, but can’t, not at all.

“Are you not afraid? Not disgusted?” you ask, scathing wings trembling along with you.

“No, why would i be?” Jisung replies, slowing down against the metal hold on his arms.

He seems to get a hold of the balustrade he’s stuck in, slowing down his desperate attempts of liberty. But his consistency doesn’t fade, neither does the words he would’ve preferred to say to you personally.

Eyes vacillating yet keeping a straight contact to yours, he gives you a smile. How someone could look so hopeful in a situation like this, you didn’t know. his optimistic eyes provide little comfort to you, but what kind of comfort is it? vain, reasonless, pointless or hopeless?

And a hopeless comfort.

“You don’t deserve hell, baby. But please have hopes, for yourself and for us. Because I love you.”

Your body freezes in place, a plethora of emotions you couldn’t properly explain swirling in the glosses of his eyes. The corners of your mouth turn up in the slightest way as your head tilts, marveling at the greatness he’s put you upon. But in no way are you great, in no way are you what he thinks of you. Because you are a messenger of hell’s fire itself, entangled with sins’ etched onto every part of your body.  

“You don’t know my sins’, Han.”

At this point, the emotions, the vulnerability you allow to show takes an uncontrollable turn. And the tears, the sobs that leave you are relentless, irrepressible.  Even though you know every bits of their capability, their limitations and their aggregations and also the fact that they’re quite freely allowed to kills you and burn you into encompassible ashes; you stand up as you saunter towards him.

But white, raging chains bind around your wings. They harshly push you onto the ground, tightening around your feathers by the second. You try to restrain, try to move even with those heavy manacles circling around you.

Another pair of peeved chains pair up to the back of your wings in a prison grip, the poisoned metal of them equivalent to burns upon burns on your skin. An agonizing cry rips out of you, straining against the choleric grips of the angels’ taunting magic. The pain swathes and sears you in ways visually impossible to see, and too impeccable, too spruce scald marks engraving onto the skin underneath your feathers.  

The sound of your screams engulf those of Jisung’s, the both of you protesting against the torture inflicted upon you.

“Love,”

Your screams halt, so do you. You manage to lift your head through crimson eyes and look into his. The smile on his face is unsure, as if forced by himself for a clandestine hope that you could never muster. He signals for you to take a few steady breaths, but he’s barely holding himself together. Nonetheless, you comply along with him.

“Just one thing, please,” he says as the guards begin to drag him. Much to your amazement, they do listen, holding him in place.

“y/n,” he says.

“Whatever happens in this story of you and I, I hope you know there wasn’t one day I didn’t choose you. There was never one minute where you were a second choice. No….never. I’ll love you till the end of time, in this life, in the next life, in any life. It’s you, it’s always been you. And one day, have hope, it will be me and you, dancing along to the perfect timing, toasting to forever.” The hesitant assurance that follows enables you to cry even more, not at the pain on your wings but the raw, catching despondency that you share under grieved roof.

“Miss y/n l/n, you are hereby expelled from your position as a soul reaper. You shall proceed to purgatory and repent for your sins’,” the head guard deadpans, forming a symbol with his fingers in the shape of an order. And you prepare yourself for the worst, body taut and eyes clenched shut.

Then two swords clash against your back, and before you know it, another pained scream rips out of your chest and your wings are gone. Crimson blood gushing out of the remnants as your black, scarred wings fall beside you.

“Ah, no!” Jisung laments, rebelling against the hands once more. He yanks with his greatest strength, managing to break free from one of them. He pulls harsher, ripping out of the other arm that held him, much to your surprise.

Through the haze and blood centering around you, you watch him rush towards you, taking your face in his hands as he frantically examines your face. Your lips take up a scant smile at the close propinquity. One the verge of death you are, but still yearning for his hands to brush against your cheeks one more time.

For once, the universe doesn’t swat away your wishes like a despotic entity.

Jisung rests his forehead on yours, hands cupping your cheeks as his tears fall onto your face, trailing down and mixing with the blood under you. “I am so sorry, love,” he says, lips trembling.

“I wish I could take your pain away.”

And then he kisses your lips feverishly. It was the last kiss, the last comfort, the last form of love you’d feel. You reciprocate back, swathing his wrists with your bloodied hands. Jisung then places his lips beside you ear, hands holding you from falling down and submitting to excruciating pain.

How shameless of you, to be acting such way in front of angel’s eyes.

“I will come back for you. I will find a way, any way,”

You peer into the constellation of his eyes one last time, relish in the love his shimmering orbs represent. You try your best to not look at him with the inscrutable, glazed eyes of death overtaking your life, so you smile anyway, nodding at him.

“I hope you do, Han Jisung.”

And then, the guards rip him away from you with petulant force, flying up into the white abyss formulated above. Jisung holds your eyes till the last minute, till the wings fly him away far enough, till the last breath you release.

An absconder like you would’ve pre-determined that you were at no point of life where you could achieve joy so easily, so effortlessly. And you clang onto that happiness as your “Life”. However, your life wasn’t there anymore. But he probably would be, in another life, another existence, another universe, in hopes or in despair, in reality or in imagination; as long as you weren’t reaper’s reincarnate.

There was no scream, nor a shrieking plea of survival, nor any sound of devastation, that was until the ground was met with your heavy body and a thud so loud. It almost seemed to you that your last heartbeat was as loud as that. Yet you didn’t forget to clad a smile on your face to the last minute, remembering your first encounter with the love of your life and reminiscing those little happiness’s, little appreciations, little love.

At the end of the day and I’m helpless,

Will you keep me close? Will you love me most?

And that’s how the darkness fell apart.

#i dont like this one #but since i wrote it so.... #skzwritersclub #inkidz #stray kids #skz #stray kids han #han jisung #jisung ff #jisung fluff #jisung angst #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #fantasy #grim reaper au #fantasy au #stray kids han jisung #skz han jisung #romance #stray kids reaction #mythical au #lmao okay #i love stray kids

[sweetestlamb]

Lighting Up Your World (Forever)

MoonMun Wedding Special! 

Summary: "Are you crying?" She teases, "I never thought I'd marry a crier."He scoffs denying her accusation, stealthily wiping a lone tear. "I'm not crying."She looks at him skeptically, before smirking mischievously, "Mmmm you do look so pretty when you cry though.

Author’s Note: These are still not all the details I wanted for the wedding but unfortunately life is catching up with me and I go back to work on Tuesday, this means I won’t have much free time to write. Wrote the majority of this today in one sitting, so I’m sorry if it feels rushed (it kinda was lol) I hope you guys enjoy this! This might be my last story for a while, but I promise to try to write some drabbles here and there and help keep this beautiful fandom alive. Thank you guys for the best summer, I had the best time!! 

"We looked so happy." He says aloud, fondly looking at their smiling faces shining back at him, the light from his phone glowing in the dark of the room. He'd taken a selfie of Mun-yeong and himself after her first successful swim, it'd taken her five tries but she had succeeded, battled her demons and came out stronger albeit wetter as well. The pride that had colored her face had to be savored and disregarding any watery harm that could become his phone, he'd hastily snapped a candid picture of them. Her soaking wet from her splashes before something slippery had touched her foot and she'd left the water, declaring it had to be a shark. He'd snickered at her, eyes bemusedly glancing around at the still lake water.

In the photo their faces were pressed together, her rosy cheeks mashed against his own. Her eyes had disappeared into half moons beaming with joy, his smile was free and unguarded. He almost didn't recognize himself. Happiness unnatural on his face.

A year ago, driving aimlessly with her had ironically led him to finding himself. It wasn't an epiphany per say, there was no definitive moment that unconcealed his inner being. Rather he'd seen the extent of himself, how happy he could be if he allowed happiness in. If he stopped slamming the door shut every time he felt glee running through his veins. She'd been the first bang at his door and hadn't stopped since they met. The trip was once in a lifetime. He'd fallen for her long ago but seeing her on that trip made him truly understand what love was. What it meant to love her. All-consuming.

They weren't perfect, they still fought. Slamming doors and crashing into the van walls tangled as they ripped their clothes off and fell into angered fits of passion. They worked on apologizing with words too instead of actions, but at times actions spoke louder for both. They also smiled so much so his cheeks ached from it, holding her in his arms felt like a gift. It was the best time of his life, he embraced the good and the bad.

She shuffles in the bed, rolling into him and accidentally knocking the phone from his hands. Simultaneously knocking him back into reality. Even in the depths of slumber demanding his full attention. He can't control the loving way his eyes peruse her face, gorgeous under the soft moonlight trickling in through their sheer curtains.

After the trip the thought of sleeping without seemed unfathomable and surprising him once more Sang-tae had been the one to encourage him to move into her room. "I'm an adult, I can't share a room with my little brother. See if Mun-yeong wants you, I need space. I'm an adult Moon Gang-tae, you can't sleep in my room." His brother uttered those words as he'd pushed him out the door of said room, his meager belongings stuffed haphazardly into a book bag. He feigned indignation before all but skipping to join Mun-yeong in her, no their new room. 

Her smile when she came in and saw him putting his clothes away in an empty drawer had been so beautiful, so soft and vulnerable. He didn't fight the urge to collect her into his arms, as they fell into bed. He was right where he was always meant to be.

A year later, he's still here. With his first love, his only love. His heart beat. His bulldozer. His tempest.

"Aishhh... Why are you awake? Do you want to have some fun? Again?" Her sleep raspy voice is filled with mischief and promise as she presses her naked body into his own slipping from slumber into consciousness with seductive ease. 

Putting the phone away he turns to her, eyes bright as he leers down at her offering. After a lifetime spent refusing the things he wanted most, he's ready to be indulgent, greedy even. Slowly he crawls over her, warm bodies melting into each other, her legs parting under his weight as he slides into the space given. A soft gasp falls from her swollen lips as he caresses her hip, fingers trailing in exploration.

"I like playing with you." Her eyes crinkle at his words, adorable half moons greeting him. Without hesitation he captures her mouth in a deep languid kiss, tongue parting her flesh and swallowing her subsequent moan. Capitalizing on her distracted state, he drags his hand down to her treasure, sighing as he feels her warm wetness. Arousal washes over him as her moistness coats his fingers as he penetrates with the tips of his fingers. Beneath him she writhes in pleasure, drawing him closer as she grinds on his hand.

Shifting he maneuvers himself, hard erection at her opening, their eyes meet as he breaks their kiss.

"I love you Ko Mun-yeong."

He means it. Loves her with every fiber of his being, and spontaneity spurs him on, driving his words. With a deep thrust he fills her, his name a sermon on her lips as her hands wraps around his neck.

"Marry me?"

Her eyes are clouded with desire, so much so that at first his inquiry only elicits stillness as her brain processes his word. He watches mesmerized as her eyes fill with tears, love leaking down her cheeks. A quiet sob shatters his heart but her answer sews it back together.

"Only you would turn sex into a marriage proposal." Her breathing increases as he draws back longer to plunge deeper into her, eyes ravaging her face. When she discloses no more words, lost in their tangled limbs and the incessant motion of him driving into her, he draws out completely, tip teasing her folds.

He chuckles at her annoyed huff, catching her hands as she tries to drag him back into their dance.

"This is emotional manipulation." She glares at him, enticing breasts jiggling from her long suffering inhale.

He shrugs, "You've done worst. You almost ran me over one time." Cutting off her rebuttal, he presses a single digit to her mouth, grabbing her hand and removing the promise ring he placed one year ago.

She watches with rapt eyes as he meets her gaze once more, "Mun-yeong, will you marry me?"

Emotions swirl in her eyes, underneath the love he sees wonder and...doubt.

"I mean it. I really want to. I want you forever. I'm ready to turn that promise ring into your engagement ring. What do you think about forever?"

Her smile is bright enough to blind him, "Okay. Forever sounds like a good start." With gentle hands he places the ring back, perfectly fitting on the marked skin of her finger. The ring looks more beautiful than it did seconds ago, its purpose renewed.

After a not so gentle nudge, he laughs sliding back into her. They fall into a slow searching rhythm, her legs tightly wrapped around his waist as he thrusts into her.

"If you ever try to leave me I'll break your legs and drag you back." She promises.

He laughs louder, her declaration like a love letter. Their lovemaking somehow sweeter now and they find pleasure and solace in each other's warmth.

You're so warm.

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

"Hyung, I have to tell you something."

Sang-tae glances at him momentarily, the scratches of his pencil on his notepad loud in the silence of the living room. The verbal confirmation that his brother has heard his words is a slight mmm he receives in response.

Taking a deep assuring breath he says with a nervous grin, "I'm going to marry Mun-yeong." Saying the words aloud forces a awkward laugh to explode from his chest.

He's marrying Mun-yeong.

His brain still struggles to wrap around that staggering reality. The urge to pinch himself to see if he's in a dream rises over him.

The pencil scratches pause and he hears the soft pat of the utensil hitting the pad and in a matter of seconds his brother is a ball of animated excitement.

"Married? My little brother is getting married? I'm so happy! When? I can't believe my little brother is getting married! I always took care of you but now you will be Mun-yeong's problem. Not mine."

He chuckles at his brother's pure reaction, ignoring the smidgen offense he feels at the latter part of his brother's exclamation, he's not a problem. If anything those two will be the death of him.

"We didn't set a date yet. I only proposed last night, I wanted you to be the first person I told."

His heart swells up when his brother jumps out of his seat to pull him into a tight embrace, Sang-tae has come a long way in showing affection. Giving him hugs and back pats on a regular now, he never knew how much he longed for that closeness with his brother until he received it. It makes him speechless every time his brother initiates a hug.

After a few seconds of their warm embrace he feels his brother pulling away, then he says, "I have to go tell Mom. She should be the second one to know, she's going to be so proud. Moon Gang-tae is getting married. You're an adult too."

"Let's all go tell her together."

When he enters the room to ask Mun-yeong to join them in telling their mom, he finds her at her vanity looking effortlessly glamorous in a bold yellow silk dress, although she's in front of the mirror her eyes are locked on her hand, her ring more precisely.

He watches her silently captivated by her and the open awe that is filling her eyes to a brim. She lightly touches the ring with her index finger seemingly lost in the glimmer of the diamond.

"Hi." He breathes out, chest tight with emotion.

Slowly she turns to look at him, those eyes now directed at him and he can feel her love surrounding him like a thick wool blanket.

Holding out a hand he says softly, "We're going to tell my mom about our wedding. Let's go."

Without even a moment of hesitation she takes his hand, smiling tenderly at him. He draws her into his arms, engulfing her in his strong arms. He sniffles as he breaths in the fresh floral scent of her hair, magnolia sweet.

"Are you crying?" She teases, "I never thought I'd marry a crier."

He scoffs denying her accusation, stealthily wiping a lone tear. "I'm not crying."

She looks at him skeptically, before smirking mischievously, "Mmmm you do look so pretty when you cry though.

A vibrant red blush blooms on his cheeks as he coughs at her praise, still not comfortable with direct compliments or comments on his looks.

She gleefully watches him squirm before grabbing his hand, "Lets go pretty boy, we have a wedding to plan."

The drive to the hospital is boisterous as Sang-tae and Mun-yeong cheerfully discuss the wedding, he merely listens and nods along. Content just hearing how excited they are.

When they tell his mother about his upcoming nuptials, the tears flow freely. When Mun-yeong trails off to fix her makeup in the bathroom and Sang-tae wonders off to greet the patients in the hospital he has a private moment with his mother.

"Mom. I wish you were here, I miss you so much. Mom, I'm scared. I know you didn't mean to but I grew up thinking you only had me to take care of hyung. I'm so happy right now it scares me. I don't know if I deserve this. If I deserve her." He falls to his knees, suddenly a stray leaf falls on his shoulder and he looks at his mother in surprise.

Blinking through his tears he hiccups, "Thank you mom. I'm going to be happy. I'm going to live a life you would be proud of." With a final sob he stands, putting his mother's leaf in his pocket.

The drive home is quiet, emotions saturating the air. There is no need for words.

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

"It's too...common." Mun-yeong dismisses another elaborate wedding dress as the store clerk runs off to bring her another.

Ju-ri and her mother watch in genuine shock, the dress in question was anything but common with it's pearl detailing and mile long train. They'd both been similarly baffled when the writer pulled up to their house and announced her wedding and demanded that they all go dress shopping. 

Ju-ri felt her mom's wary eyes on her face, gauging her reaction. Their was none except happiness, she'd long given up her crush on Gang-tae, Sang-in's persistence wearing down her walls. He wasn't perfect but he made her feel special and Gang-tae had never done that. She'd also come to consider Mun-yeong a friend, finally recognizing that she never hated her, jealousy had been the driving force in their antagonistic relationship.

So she'd been honored when Mun-yeong had invited them to choose her dress, even inviting Seung-jae along, the art director squealing in excitement at the news of nuptials.

To no shock to anyone, Mun-yeong's taste was extravagant and every gown that had been shown to her simply didn't meet her high standard.

She watched with sad eyes as Mun-yeong seemed to gravitate to her mom, wordlessly asking for her opinion with her eyes. They had grown close in the past year, at times she found the two together in the house after work, her mother nagging Mun-yeong about eating as she piled food onto her plate. Mun-yeong would grumble about her persistent nagging but every Thursday like clockwork they would have dinner together.

Mun-yeong walks out in another jaw-dropping gown, off the shoulders with a cinched waist and full dress, resembling a princess from a fairy tale. They all ohh and ahh at her, sans her mom who merely looks inquisitively, eyes locked on Mun-yeong's face.

The store clerk is all praise and compliments, flowery words bursting free like a dam, "You look gorgeous! This is the dress! Your husband will be blown away!"

Mun-yeong looks over her shoulder, face impassive as she peers at her vision. Unimpressed she responds, "My husband will be blown away by my face alone."

Ju-ri chuckles under her breath at the clerk's barely concealed annoyance.

Her mother speaks up, "Try the next dress I picked it out. I think it's quite lovely." Mun-yeong's eyes are shining as she goes to the dressing room, Ju-ri is certain that dress will be the one.

The dress is exquisite, the bodice immaculately detailed with embroidered floral swirls that bleed into the body of the dress, which is equally gorgeous with effervescent sheer material that falls in powdery waves, bellowing up when she twirls around with a radiant smile on her face.

"Wow." They all gasp at her, knowing that this will be her dress. This dress was meant for her, they're all in agreement.

No one mentions how that dress was taken from the hands of another hopeful bride, how Ju-ri had distracted the woman as her mother sneakily took the dress and snuck in his Mun-yeong's dressing room. Then Seung-jae had innocently stared at the woman convincing her that no such dress had been there, as they all giggled and left her to her confusion.

Ju-ri begins to pack up ready to leave the store before Mun-yeong speaks, "We're not done yet." She suppresses a sigh they'd been at the store for hours now, Mun-yeong scaring off the first two clerks who had attempted to help her. The first bringing a dress so plain and unappealing that Mun-yeong had declared she was trying to sabotage her wedding before threatening to twist her neck. It was a wonder they were not instantly removed.

"You all need to get dresses too especially you Ju-ri, I can't trust you to not show up to my wedding looking like a country bumpkin." They glare at each other as Mun-yeong's eyes run up and down her outfit-a frumpy but comfortable t-shirt and loose jeans- in disdain.

"Yah! Don't insult my sweet daughter!" Her mother rushes to her defense yanking Mun-yeong's ear harshly.

"I'm not insulting her! It's the truth she dresses like a little boy!"

Ju-ri laughs loudly as her mother's grip tightens as she punishes Mun-yeong. Basking in the chaos around her.

Hours are spent until they all have dresses for the wedding, Mun-yeong slamming her card down ignoring her mother's protest as she pays for everything.

The small smile on her face reveals how important this trip was to her, how significant they’d all come to be in each other’s life. 

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

She gets a call from one of Gang-tae's university friends imploring that she come and collect her wasted fiancee. She rushes to the car, knowing that the ants will be even more insistent in his drunken state, driving at a breakneck speed she arrives in no time.

All eyes dart to her as she enters, casually dressed in a denim mini dress and knee high brown boots, ridiculously tiny Louis Vuitton handbag dangling from her wrist.

"Mun-yeong! Hey! That's my fiancee! She's so beautiful..." Gang-tae's slurred voice grabs her attention, easily identifying him in a corner of the dingy bar. She makes sure not to touch anything as she approaches their table.

Gang-tae's friend wave sheepishly at her as she eyes the exorbitant amount of empty beer and soju bottles on the table. He'd promised to stay within his limit which they'd found was embarrassingly low, from his vivid scarlet cheeks it was evident that he did not keep his word.

"Are you trying to kill him before we get married?" They all flinch jumping at the low cold register of her voice, frozen under her glare.

"Yah! Don't glare at my friends, they're scared of you already." Gang-tae chastises her, pulling her into his lap, pressing a wet peck on her cheek. She smacks his shoulder complaining about the heavy stench of alcohol on his breath.

"You said you were only going to have two beers. Why are you so drunk? You're so annoying."

"They kept buying me more, it's not my fault." He whines, head falling on her shoulder, warm breath tickling her neck.

One of Gang-tae's friends finally speaks up, the only one brave enough to do so, "That's not technically true. We bought you two beers and tried to cut you off you demanded more."

His bravery seems to embolden the rest who all nod and hum in agreement, another speaking up, "And you started drinking our beers."

"Then you started singing about your pretty fiancee and how much you loved her and wanted to kiss--"

Gang-tae slams a hand on the table, flushed face hiding his blush but his red ears reveal the truth, "I wasn't screaming.... It's this room. Everything echoes, I sound louder here."

She looks at him in disbelief, containing the smile that's itching to come out. He's so cheesy. Maintaining her icy facade she pretends to be bothered by his actions.

Before she can pin them under another icy glare, the waitress appears next to them, "Just checking on you all, do you need anything else?" She asks, eyes slightly widening when she sees Mun-yeong perched on Gang-tae's lap. Signs of a hungry disillusioned ant.

"Gang-tae?.." immediately Mun-yeong's eyes narrow at the waitress lack of honorifics, far too familiar addressing her fiancee.

"Do you know my fiancee that well? You're speaking to him very casually."

"You're fiancee...I didn't know.." She trails off blushing as she glances at the ground.

The waitress flounders under her hard stare as she grabs the lone knife on the table, using it to punctuate her next words, "Consider this your first and only warning then, don't salivate over my fiancee. Or I'll cut out your tongue." She stabs the knife into the table, smiling serenely as everyone looks at her in horror.

Grabbing her mouth the girl rushes away before inquiring if anyone else needs anything.

"Mun-yeong ah I told you to stop threatening people. She's nice she always gives me free drinks."

She jolts at the revelation, hopping out of his lap and grabbing his arm, "We're leaving right now. You are not allowed to come back here ever again."

Without a word to his friends at the table who are watching with gaped mouths, she drags him from the bar shoving him into the driver's seat, angrily buckling him in.

After a few minutes driving he breaks the silence.

"Are you jealous?" He smirks at her.

"Shut up." She retorts, making sure to accelerate over speed bumps.

Then somewhere along the drive she starts to feel his hands caressing the naked skin of her thigh. When she gazes over she meets his glossy unfocused eyes, she looks down at the wondering hand with a raised eyebrow.

"What are you doing?"

Running his hands even higher, he looks at her with innocent eyes, "Nothing."

Rolling her eyes she looks back at the road, trying her best to ignore his provocations.

Her breath hitches as his fingers reach the edge of her panties. She wiggles in her chair in complete shock at his bold move.

"You're really drunk aren't you?"

He hums in response, fingering at her panties, poking under to meet naked skin.

"I wanted to do this as soon as I saw you come in. You've been wearing shorter dresses lately. It's driving me crazy."

She's flabbergasted at his confession, completely unaware that he paid attention to what she wore.

"Are you doing this on purpose? Are you trying to tease me?" He sticks his hand inside the thin lace of her underwear, nudging at her warmth, her eyes roll in the back of her head.

She's unprepared for his finger to suddenly sink into her, as he leans dangerously over the console to torture her.

"What are you doing?" She hisses trying with all her might to stay in her lane, swerving before righting the car with a firm pull of the steering wheel.

She moans as he sinks in deeper, knuckles deep in her wet center, his eyes enraptured in his own movement under her dress.

"Pull over." He commands leaving no space for a refusal.

She obeys immediately, body vibrating from pleasure.

He unbuckles them both before tugging her dress further up her torso, then tugging her panties down her hips, leaving her bare for his viewing.

"Put your hands on the steering wheel, don't move them."

Her breath stutters at his dark seductive tone, before placing her hands around the steering wheel.

"Good girl." He praises her, rewarding her with two fingers plunging into her empty hole, she groans at the sensation, widening her legs tempting him to take more. He raises to the challenge, thrusting into her harder, curling his fingers to scrape at her walls.

"Please, please." She begs, thrashing in her seat as pleasure coils in the pits of her belly.

"Touch yourself."

Lightning fast, she releases the steering wheel and presses an urgent finger against her swollen nub, rubbing at it roughly, teetering on the edge, his voices shove her over, "Come, my beautiful fiancee come for me."

Her walls clamp down on his fingers, squeezing tight as he continues to thrust into her, eyes locked on her face openly watching her fall apart on his fingers.

She sighs, pressing her head into chair and closing her eyes to savor the euphoric thrill that shoots through her bloodstream.

Her eyes snap open at the soft familiar sound that comes from his direction.

He's snoring, head lolling awkwardly between them fingers still deep inside of her. She can't help the shocked laughter that bursts from her chest.

"I'm marrying a psycho." She chuckles to herself, pushing his hand away and driving back onto the road.

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

Planning for the wedding goes off without a hitch, she reluctantly asks Sang-in to be their announcer at the wedding, pushing him away when he begins to obnoxiously cry on her shoulder.

The idiot does find them a beautiful venue, a grand hall overlooking the ocean with outdoor seating and a surplus of cherry blossoms. She complains about the nuisance petals but the way Gang-tae's eyes sparkle when he sees the location makes her decision an easy one.

Every minute detail is organized, all t's are crossed and i's dotted and suddenly it is the day before the wedding.

Her nerves are rampant, conjuring every issue that could plague the long waited day. Gang-tae's exuberance keeps her buoyed through her pessimism, his unwavering love pulling her from darkness and uncertainty.

She's sitting silently on the couch when she hears the front door open, taking a deep breath she calls out, "Gang-tae? Is that you?"

There's no answer and that piques her interest, pushing off the couch she walks to the entrance, calling out again, "Gang ta--"

Her voice tampers off as she sees who's at the door. Forced to look down to meet the huge eyes that are staring up at her, tears pooling before they spill over.

"Miss Witch?" Min-jo's small voice rattles her heart as she stands frozen.

She glanced at Gang-tae in question, they hadn't discussed this at all.

He shrugs with a huge grin on his handsome face, "I know you wrote her letters. I thought you would want her there."

"Can I hug you Miss Witch?" Min-jo pleads hopefully, already stepping into her space.

".....No. Don't touch me."

The brat ignores her, wrapping her thin arms around her knees in a tight embrace.

She doesn't push her away.

Immediately.

Sang-tae is unaffected by the sudden appearance of a small child in the house and happily greets her before dragging her to look at his newest fairy tale book, "Mother Tree".

The castle is bustling with life, joy and laughter, nothing like the home she grew up in.

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

The wedding day arrives on a sunny summer day, the sun setting the world ablaze. She forces Gang-tae to get ready in a separate room, recalling an American movie she watched as a young girl. It was bad luck for the bride and groom to see each other before the wedding, they needed all the luck they could get.

Soon-duk pins her hair up, securing the braids she'd carefully twisted into a stylishly messy bun on the top of her head. Tendrils frame her face beautifully as she stares at herself in the mirror.

"Final touch." Ju-ri states pushing the tiara into her hair and lowering the veil to cover her face.

"You look beautiful!" Sang-in claps his hands in excitement, rushing over to peer closer at her. She simply nods in agreement, she does look beautiful no need to state facts.

"How about me? How do I look?" Min-jo curtsies in her hanbok, it had cost a small fortune to have it delivered in just a day but she had no regrets. The girl has squealed in amazement when she showed her the attire.

"You look enchanting, definitely the prettiest girl in the room." Sang-in coos at the child, getting goosebumps from the sudden temperature drop in the room.

"What did you just say? Do you have a death wish?!"

The idiot manager is saved by Jae-su peeking his head in to announce that the wedding is about to begin.

As he locks eyes with her he smiles, "You look...nice. Gang-tae is going to be blown away." She sniffs at his compliment, nodding her thank you.

They all leave the room quietly, patting her on the shoulder as if she's going off to war.

With a final glance in the mirror, she stands up and approaches the door. Ready to begin the next chapter of her life, their life.

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

First, Min-jo comes out with a little basket in her arms looking adorable in her hanbok as she throws magnolias petals on the floor.

She grins at him before whispering, "You look like a real prince." He winks at her as she takes her seat in the front aisle.

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Gang-tae chants to himself, shuffling in his suit, loosening his tie as he waits at the end of the altar. Jae-su announces his bride and his reaction is instant, at the first sight of her moisture runs down his face.

When he sees her finally, time slips away. Time stands still.

She's dazzling in a bellowing white dress that flows with every step she makes, her diamond studded tiara glimmering in the plentiful braids adorning her head. He doesn't breathe the entire time she walks down the aisle, breath stolen by the goddess before him.

He inhales when she stops before him, softly scoffing at him as she holds his hand, "You're already crying." Despite her callous tone she wipes the tears from his cheeks and squeezes his hands in comfort.

"The bride and groom will say their vows." Sang-in announces over the microphone, surreptitiously wiping at his own wet face. There isn't a dry eye in the room. He's in good company.

Taking a settling breath he starts first as they had discussed, "Mun-yeong, being with you has made me the happiest I've ever been. Before you I wasn't living, merely existing. You saw through my lies and saw my deepest desires, you never gave up on me every though I was stubborn. You're the only woman who's ever had my heart. You're my first love and...I want you to be my last."

He watches her lips quiver at his declaration of love, before a single delicate teardrop escapes. He brushes it away, drawing her into a warm embrace letting her find comfort in his arms, "I love you. I love you so much." He whispers into her skin, holding her together as she breaks apart.

With a shuddering breath she draws back, fortifying herself before reciting her vows, "Moon Gang-tae, I grew up never knowing what love was, thinking it was something only others would experience. You are the first person to ever come to my rescue, to treat me like I'm something precious and worth protecting. You gave me a family, for that I'll forever be grateful. I don't know what I did to deserve you but I'll fight for you everyday. I love you."

They gaze into each other's eyes, their relationship flashing before their eyes. Everything they've overcome, all the tears and heartbreak has led them to this moment. Destiny.

"Kiss her." Sang-tae nudges him impatiently.

He smiles listening to his brother, leaning over to lift her veil, revealing her gorgeous face before kissing his wife. Their first kiss as a married couple. He tries to keep it chaste but she's having none of that as she slips her tongue into his mouth.

The sounds of cheers fill his ears as he's kissed passionately.

"The bride and groom will have their first dance." Sang-in announces as the first note of Sam Kim's "Breath" fills the air.

I’ll remember the moment I laughed with you. I’ll remember the time I was holding you.

Her body is smooth temptation against his own, she'd slithered away after the ceremony only to return in a silky white dress that hugged every curve of her body. It would take every bit of control to stop himself from dragging her to the bathroom and ravishing her, the coy smile she flashes at him lets him know she is well aware of her effect.

Wrapping her in his arms, they sway to the haunting romantic lyrics of the song, bodies firmly pressed together.

"You know what this dress is doing to me." He whispers, grabbing at her slightly to release some of the pressure in his pants.

Laying her head against the wide berth of his chest she hums, "I do. I plan on doing this to you for the rest of your life."

He groans at the threat wrapped in a promise.

He's looking forward to it.

Clink. Clink.

Jae-su garners everyone's attention with a sharp tsp of his fork against his champagne glasses. Gang-tae turns away from his wife, they'd been locked in another eye embrace, lost in their own world as they fed each other. 

"I'd like everyone's attention please."

Everyone stops and turns their full focus on Jae-su, Sang-tae hovering on his side, wriggling from his glee.

"Sang-tae and I have a few words to say to our little brother."

"He's not your little brother, he's mine. You're just his friend."

Jae-su sputters, glaring at Sang-tae. "He told me I'm his brother! Let me be apart of your family, stop rejecting me!"

Sang-in clears his throat in the microphone, loudly, eyes locked in Mun-yeong's glowering form, saving them both from her wrath.

Jae-su flinches when he sees the dark glare the bride is sending his way, swallowing nervously he presses on, "I've known Gang-tae for many years, we've been through everything together. When he first met Mun-yeong I wasn't sure what it would lead it. I thought she was a lun--an interesting woman!" He recovers quickly, ""But now I know I've never truly seen Gang-tae smile before, a true smile not his joker smile. Since he's met Mun-yeong his smile is real now. My little brother is truly happy for the first time in his life."

Sang-tae hastily steals the microphone, "You're not our brother." He adds first, making Jae-su sputter defensively before he continues speaking eyes locked on the couple.

"My little brother is a coward, he's never been brave or strong. I protect him all the time because I'm his big brother and it's just job. But Mun-yeong is strong too, she's one hell of a fighter and I know she'll always protect my little brother. We are a family, all of us." He pulls their mother's leaf from his pocket, adamant that their mother should witness the wedding and bringing the leaf with him. 

"Mom and I are so proud of you little brother, you have a wife now. You need to be brave and strong too, always protect her."

Gang-tae sniffles loudly as he listens to his brothers speeches, turning to Mun-yeong with a liquid smile. She only shakes her head before using a handkerchief to wipe his tears, the cloth was for her but he clearly was more in need of it. Spontaneously crying at any given moment. It was sickeningly endearing.

Everyone claps at the speeches, swallowing expensive bubbly champagne as the wedding swings into motion.

The music is loud as they all twirl on the dance floor, Jae-su and Seung-jae screeching into the microphone as they sing over the music blasting from the speakers. Mun-yeong considers cutting their microphone before Ju-ri pulls her away, spinning her around.

Min-jo captures her hand as well, joining them, happily jumping up and down completely out of sync with the music. It takes her a moment of dancing and being forced into picture after picture before she realizes that her husband is missing.

"Where's Gang-tae?" She asks Sang-tae who is drunk after one sip of champagne, he sways lazily to the music, fists pumping in the air.

He stumbles a little before answering her, "He went to the bathroom."

Pushing Min-jo into Ju-ri, she walks away without an explanation, the heat causing her dress to stick to her moist skin. She fans herself as she wonders out to find her wayward husband.

She walks down a dimly lit hallway, wobbly on her heels using the walls to support her as she searches for Gang-tae. She turns into an enclave, turning in a circle before retreating too intoxicated to walk any further.

Then she feels a hand clamp down on her wrist and drag her into a room.

It's the room she used to get ready today, the scent of her own perfume wafts around her making her dizzy.

"Are you looking for me my wife?" She sighs falling into his arms, delighted at the sound of her new title on his lips.

"Yes, where did you go?"

"I couldn't take my eyes off you in this dress....I needed a minute."

She perks up at his words, walking him backwards until he's pressed against the wall. His hands latch onto the satiny smoothness of her hip.

He groans at the invitation in her eyes, "They'll notice we're gone."

She shrugs nonchalant as she tugs at his bow tie, "You'd better be quick then."

He stares blankly before spinning them around and slamming her into the wall, immediately devouring her champagne flavored lips. Tongue swiping and plunging into her slack mouth, groaning at her firm grind into his erection.

Her fingers trail down his chest, stroking his abs before reaching his fly and tugging his zipper down the metallic sound sinfully loud.

He loses his mind when he slips his hand under her dress and meets bare hot skin. She'd been dancing all night with no panties.

"Mun-yeong, what are you doing to me?" He whimpers, fingering her and grunting when she readily accepts his invasion, spreading her legs wide and riding his finger. 

"I told you we have to hurry. I've been ready since I saw you in this suit." She tugs him against her, pulling up her own dress to rock into his cock, before spinning around to present herself to his ravenous eyes.

"Come on, husband. Fuck me."

Viciously pulling his length from its cloth prison he takes the rigid flesh in his hands, positioning it at her entrance before sinking into her, his arms planted on the wall beside her head.

The rhythm is immediately brutal, she surges back onto him and he thrusts forward, on edge from watching her all night, envisioning this very moment on loop. Drawing back only to plunge back in, over and over, hands sliding over her mouth smothering her harsh moans.

He twists her head forcing her into a dirty kiss that's all tongue, sucking her moans from her throat before they can escape.

Suddenly they hear voices in the hallway.

"Where did those two go? It's their wedding they can't just disappear." Jae-su complains loudly, whine in his voice.

"They're probably together doing something naughty." Seung-jae replies giggling as astute as usual, much smarter than people give her credit for.

"What? No way! Gang-tae would never do that!" He exclaims dismissing her claim as their voices fade down the hallway.

Gang-tae blushes embarrassment stilling his movement until Mun-yeong sinks back onto him, eyes narrowed as she glares at him.

"If you stop I'll kill you."

As if he could even if he wanted to, it feels too amazing.

The slap of skin against skin is hypnotic as two becomes one.

His balls tighten as he nears the end, he reaches down desperately finding her clit in one motion and rubbing against her until those smooth walls clamp around him, a little slice of paradise.

Pistoning into her wet depths, he falls over the edge groaning at she shakes in his arms, silently tumbling with him, milking him dry. Watching as she drags her nails down the wall, wishing that was his back, craving her marks and the pain.

Next time.

When they stumble back into the reception, he can feel the director's knowing eyes on him. Almost choking on his champagne when he's cornered and interrogated by the shameless ex-director. 

“Why are you smiling like that? Did you get some action?” 

The man slaps him hardily on the back, guffawing at his blush and telling him the wonders of young love and short refraction periods. He contemplates drowning himself in the water outside, but he dismisses the idea knowing his wife would follow him into the afterlife and drag him back only to follow through on her threat to break his legs. 

They dance all night, the stars twinkling above them. Neither seeing the shooting star flying across the sky, neither needing its elusive wish. 

Somehow, they make it home safely, both disgustingly drunk as they fall into their bed. They kisses sloppily until they pass out, clothes thrown on the floor as they pass out in tangled limbs on the plush mattress. 

She refuses to tell him where they are going for their honeymoon. Avoiding his question as she hands over their boarding passes and they get their passports stamped. She covers his eyes to prevent him from seeing where they are ended. 

When they are finally seated in their first class seats, he hears the pilot welcome them aboard and promise a safe trip to Africa. 

Where do you want to go? 

Serengeti. 

All his dreams are coming through because of her. 

#its okay to not be okay #its okay to not be okay fic #lighting up your world #wedding special #ko mun yeong #moon gang tae #I just realized her name is going to be Moon Mun Yeong #I find that hilarious #psycho but it's okay #moonmun

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Riding On Ch 15: TFI Friday

Summary: It’s Friday (thank f**k), and Frank’s taken the day off work so that he and Fliss can take an early dinner before meeting the Circle of Truth to celebrate Bonnie and Simon’s engagement…but Fliss is struggling with her emotions, especially when it comes to leaving Alex behind.

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s…)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  A lot of fluff going down in this chapter…they deserve it! We also get to see Frank’s version of the events from Done With Nice Guys which was written by @smediumsmeatbae​. Please check it out, it’s adorable!!! 

Chapter Song: Laid by James (this happens to be another one of my favourites…give it a listen to!) 

Series Masterlist //  WIYPT Masterlist

This bed is on fire with passionate love. The neighbours complain about the noises above, but she only comes when she’s on top. My therapist said not to see you no more, he said you’re like a disease without any cure, he said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no…ah, you think you’re so pretty…

Frank woke, reaching out blindly for his phone to silence the alarm. He swiped the button across and turned over, fully intending on giving Fliss a cuddle for another 5 minutes or so before he had to get up when realisation crashed over him and he gave a groan. He'd booked the fucking day off so he could take Fliss for a late afternoon-slash-early evening meal and had forgotten to turn off his bastard alarm.

And then it further dawned on him that it didn't actually matter because Mary still needed to get up and ready for school regardless of his day off or not.

But then…it was Friday. Her university day…which meant she wasn’t due in until 10…

With a grin his arm tightened over Fliss’ waist, hand splaying on her belly as he pulled her back into him, nuzzling his nose into her neck, feeling a stirring in his boxers where his cock was already semi-hard thanks to the life of its own it had in a morning. Part of him wanted to wake her for a bit of fun before the rest of the house rose, the other knew she was bound to be tired after Alex had been an absolute horror during the night, but in the end the decision was made for him as he felt her shift a little, before she stretched out her limbs, a soft sigh escaping from her mouth. "Morning Sailor..." Fliss yawned.

"Morning Cowgirl" He said, closing his eyes and snuggling closer into her. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“The alarm did.” She shifted slightly before she propped herself up to check on Alex who was fast asleep "Yeah, now he sleeps" she grumbled.

Frank gave a chuckle and pressed another kiss to her neck "yeah he was really not playing ball last night was he?"

"3 times." She groaned "He's a bottomless pit Frank."

"I told you to stay on bed the 3rd time." Frank sighed.

"Once I'm awake I'm awake." She shrugged. "He cries and it’s like my boobs send an alarm to my brain.”

Frank chuckled "Well like your mom suggested, introducing the formula should help. He'll fill up from less and give you a break."

"You mean because I can't feed him what he needs myself." She let put a sigh and at that Frank took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Hey, look at me." He said sternly and she rolled onto her back, her brown eyes blinking up at him, auburn and blonde hair splayed across her pillow "you checked with the doctor, she said this perfectly normal..."

"Then why do I feel so shit." She asked, tears brimming her eyes "I can't even feed our baby properly.”

"Come ‘ere..." he said gently as she rolled onto her side facing him, his arms cradling her close as she pressed her face into his chest, sniffling "Lissy, you're a wonderful mom. Don't start beating yourself up about something that in the grand scheme of things really doesn't matter."

"It matters to me Frank..."

"Look, he won't give a shit whether what he's getting is from you or not. He just wants food." He said gently, his hand rubbing up and down her back, underneath the sleep cami she was wearing "if anything the fact you're doing this shows how much of a good mom you are. You spotted something that he needs and you're doing what you have to do to give it to him.” She stayed silent bar her little sniffles and he gently pressed a kiss to her head. "Don't think on it too much Fliss. I know it must feel shitty for you but he'll be fine. That I can promise you."

She took a deep breath and pulled back to look at him, and he gently brushed his lips against hers, the hand that was on her back stopping in the middle of the spine, holding her to him. She arched an eyebrow and gave a little smirk before he shrugged and kissed her lazily. She took the kiss eagerly, allowing him to slowly ease her over onto her back, caging her underneath his body as his mouth moved to her jawline then her neck. She gave a soft sigh, her hands sliding into his sleep-messed hair and he’d just moved his mouth downwards, softly nipping at her chest through her top when, with his ever perfect timing, Alex let out a little whine.

“For fucks sake…” Frank grumbled, his head falling to the valley of Fliss’ chest as she chuckled, swatting at his head. With a sigh he propped himself up and dropped a kiss to her lips. “I’ll get him sorted.” he said. “You take a while, lay in.”

Fliss looked down at her boobs and then shrugged “Well seeing as he fed 3 times over night they’re not that swollen so…” Frank gave a snort as she looked at him, arching her eyebrows “Hey, the struggle is real, ok?"

“I didn’t suggest otherwise.” He said, hopping out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats, yanking at the crotch as they felt a little tight thanks to the fact he was still aroused, and a T-shirt as Fliss leaned over, gently rubbing Alex’s tummy. “Hey…” he said, picking his son up, gently placing a large hand on his back “If you’re swapping over to formula, does that mean Ben and Jerry are gonna go smaller?” he nodded at her chest “Because if so I may be forced to reconsider my stance on the situation.”

“If you didn’t have hold of our son I’d punch you.” Fliss glared and he gave a chuckle before he headed out of the room.

“Couldn’t you have slept for like 15 minutes longer this morning buddy?” he questioned gently as he entered the nursery, placing Alex down on the changing mat. “You totally cock blocked me. Which, for the record, is not cool.”

Alex looked at him, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, you might look like that.” Frank deadpanned, as Alex’s hands curled around his fingers. His little legs wiggled a little and Frank bent down with his mouth arranged in an open smile, causing Alex’s face to split into a little grin, his arms and legs waggling even faster. “Yeah, ok, I forgive you.” Frank chuckled before he changed him into a clean diaper and then padded downstairs to warm his bottle up, juggling his son easily in one arm as he did so.

By now Alex’s fairly decent mood had started to wane as he was hungry. The noises he made were getting louder and slightly more impatient, threatening to turn into an out and out cry.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s coming pal…” Frank said, dropping a gentle kiss to the downy hair on Alex’s head “I know, you’re hungry...despite the fact you had midnight, 1.30 am and 4am snack…”

He settled on the sofa, flicked on the TV for the morning news, positioned Alex and gave him his bottle, watching with a soft smile on his face as the baby’s cheeks worked hungrily taking the mix of breast and formula. They’d started this just a few days or so ago after Fliss had simply been unable to stop him crying from hunger Tuesday afternoon and called her mom in a flap. She’d suggested doing what Steve and Sian had had to do with the twins, seeing as both of those had been greedy little bastards too so after a call to the Paediatrician, Fliss had reluctantly agreed. He did sympathise with her, and he’d been waiting for the inevitable tears which had finally come that morning, but it would be much easier for her in the long run all things considered, especially if as the doctor had suggested she could move to formula fully bar a morning feed.

Supporting Alex in one arm, he absentmindedly watched the anchor and co-anchor on the breakfast show interviewing someone about a Thanksgiving tradition or something, he wasn’t really paying much attention if he was honest. It freaked him out how fast it was creeping up on them. Soon it would be fucking Christmas. Thankfully, Fliss seemed to be on top of it mostly. They were hosting a small Thanksgiving with his mother then heading over to Verity and Bill’s for the usual party, and for Christmas Steve, Sian and the boys were over so they were spending the day at Verity and Bill’s along with Roberta and his mother…which was always fun. It never ceased to amaze him how welcoming Fliss’ family had been to his own fucked up version of one.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jerked from them by a little popping noise and he looked down to see Alex had moved away from the bottle, and to his astonishment there was a small amount left.

“Finally full up buddy?” he asked, offering it him back but the baby turned his head away un interested “Guess so.” Frank said, placing the bottle on the coffee table and moving Alex so he was leaning against his chest, head on his shoulder as he burped him. It took a little while but eventually he obliged and Frank chuckled, turning his head to look at him, bright blue eyes staring around the room. He was developing so fast now, it was ridiculous.

“Shall we go wake your sister up?” he asked softly, “Yeah, ok…”

Thankfully, Mary was actually pretty co-operative most mornings, and today being one of her university split days she was in a good mood, rabbiting on to Frank about the assignment she had done. They ate breakfast before she headed off upstairs to get changed and once she was back, he told her to watch Alex for a second whilst he made his way into the bedroom with a plate of toast and a coffee for Fliss, knowing full well she wouldn’t be asleep. And sure enough, she lay on her back, watching the TV.  She beamed at him as she shuffled herself up, taking the mug off him as he placed the plate on the night stand and perched on the side of the bed.  

“Where’s Bean?” she asked.

“Mary’s watching him for a second so I could bring you that.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ll take him with me when I drop Mary off. He likes the truck. I might pop into the shop for 20 minutes or so, the guys haven’t seen him in a while and I like showing him off.” Frank smiled a little bashfully and Fliss’ smile grew even larger. “Imma dress him in his Made In Boston T-shirt…”

Fliss chuckled “I still can’t believe Bonnie and Simon got him that.” “Oh, I can.” Frank nodded “In fact, that’s quite tame for what I expected from Si to be honest.” “Yeah, that’s true…” Fliss conceded “Oh, don’t forget, I’m teaching at 2 for an hour.” “I’ll be well back before then.” Frank snorted, “It’s not even 8 yet.” “I know I was just pointing out you can have some more male bonding time then too.” “Great, maybe I’ll introduce him to Debbie Does Dallas…” Frank teased and Fliss snorted

“Well, we know he likes boobs so…”

Frank gave a laugh before he leaned over and gave her another soft kiss. “I’ll get him dressed and then we’re heading out so I’ll see you in a little while. Love you.” “Love you too.” She smiled, as he bumped his nose against hers and left.

*****

Once he’d dropped Mary off and walked her into her lecture hall where he handed her over to her tutor, he headed back out to the truck, clipping the car seat back in place. He dropped into work, where as predicted the guys on the team all came to say hi, commenting on how big he was compared to last time they’d seen him. He double checked a couple of the rotas for Monday before he headed home, getting back just after 11, by which point Alex was fast asleep. He entered the house, greeting Thor who came bounding down the stairs to check who’d dared to walk into his home.

“Just me buddy.” He said, patting the large dog’s head before he headed upstairs knowing full well that if Thor had been upstairs that meant Fliss was too. And sure enough, he opened the door to their bedroom and heard the shower in the en-suite going. Fred opened his eye and looked at Frank from where he had been lounging on their bed, his tail swishing slightly before he returned to his cat nap, not even bothering to move.

With a snort at the cat’s blatant lack of any fucks to give, Frank placed the car seat on the dresser, smoothing back Alex’s hair as he continued to sleep and then realised that this was a prime opportunity for finishing what he started this morning. With a dirty smirk to himself he opened the door to the bathroom. Fliss’ head was tipped back, face turned to the stream of water, suds cascading from her long hair down her body which instantly had him half hard in the constraints of his sweats.

Yup, Frank Adler was a big fan of getting dirty in the shower.

“Room for another?” he asked, cheekily, pulling off his T-shirt. Fliss jumped a little as she hadn’t heard him come in and then turned to look at him through the shower screen, most of her body obscured by the frosted glass pattern. She grinned and raised her hand, making a beckoning motion with her fingers. In a flash he shed the remainder of his clothing and stepped into the large cubicle with her, his hands reaching out for her hips, pulling her towards him, so her back was pressed to his chest.

“I believe we have unfinished business Miss Gallagher.” He said, feeling her slick skin pressing against his as he nipped at her neck.

“Really?” she pondered, “I don’t recall…”

“No?” he teased, his lips placing another kiss to her wet skin, “Maybe this will jog your memory…”

His hands slid up, tracing the curve of her waist before he gently cupped her breasts, calloused thumbs skating over the nipples. With a reaction that was automatic, she let out a soft sigh as he gently teased her, his palms and fingers working their magic, all the time taking care not to be too rough as he knew she was sensitive. But in the end it was Fliss demanding he go harder as she arched her back, pushing herself into his hands as she felt the aching brewing between her legs. She went to squeeze them closed, anything to help relieve the pressure that was building and she felt Frank’s lips smirk against her neck, one of his hands brushing down her body, slipping between her folds, right where she needed him most.

“Fuck…” she swore, as he gently played her, slow, teasing strokes and before long she was rocking against his hand, seeking friction as she was spiralling higher and higher, Frank’s rock hard dick pressing into the lower part of her back.

“Turn around…” Frank said into her ear and she did as she was told, greeting his lips in a filthy kiss as he pivoted her round so that her back was pressed to the wall of the shower cubicle. His mouth moved from hers to her jawline, the whiskers of his beard gently sliding over her skin as he dipped his head to kiss her collar bone before he rather gracefully dropped to his knees. He glanced up at her, deep brown met ocean blue, her eyes full with a heady combination of love, desire and lust and it drew a low growl from his throat as he reached down for her left ankle. With a steady hand Frank lifted it over his right shoulder and gently kissed and sucked his way up her leg, leaving a nip at the apex of her thigh. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the tiles as he moved to where she wanted him the most, his tongue long and flat against her centre as he lapped at her entrance all the way up to her sensitive bud. Her body jolted as she let out a soft sigh of his name which was laced with satisfaction as he set his mouth to work.

As Frank devoured her with the enthusiasm of a man starved, Fliss curled her fingers into his damp hair, the movement a reflex as the other slapped flat against the grey slate tiles. The contrast of his short beard scratching at her sensitive skin to his soft tongue and mouth was sending her body into overdrive. He gently grazed her bud with his teeth which caused her hips to violently buck forward, her nails dug into his scalp and he gave a chuckle which vibrated against her clit causing her to groan loudly.

“Jesus Christ Frank…” she panted, looking down at him. He peeked up from between her legs, a cheeky glint in his eyes as he continued, his tongue flicking into her entrance, before he sucked on her bud and then she was gone. Her knees trembled as her hand pulled his hair, almost to the point it was painful as she gave a loud cry, her other hand reaching to his head as she used both to push him away from her sensitive sex as she clamped down around thin air. With a smug sense of satisfaction at having undone her to the extent he had, Frank rose to his feet, wiping his wet face with an equally wet forearm and he cupped her cheeks, kissing her again, his tongue tangling against hers.

Fliss’ wrecked brain had barely registered his mouth was on hers when he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as the water cascaded down on them both. “Turn back around…”he whispered softly, and she did as she was told. Frank gently moved his hands to her hips, pulling her back, nudging her ankles with his feet to open her up a little more. With one palm on the base of her back he gently bent her forward ever so slightly, took his throbbing cock in his hand and lined himself up. With a gentle, slow movement he slipped inside, burying himself in her heat, the rumble from his throat slipping out of his mouth at the relief of finally being inside her. Once he was fully sheathed his hands moved, one to her stomach, holding her in place, the other up to her breasts as she arched her back, her head back against his shoulder as he drove in and out of her, slowly, deliberately. Her right hand moved back to grab at his thigh, her fingertips digging into the hard muscle as he thrust forward, the other hand flat reached back to tangle in his hair.

“God you feel so good baby…” he groaned, his mouth licking a stripe up the side of her neck as her head lolled to the right, tracing her wet skin up to her jaw line, “So fahkin’ good…”

The hand that had been on her belly moved to grasp her chin with his finger and thumb, tipping her face round to his so he could kiss her. It was all Fliss could do to kiss him back, allowing him to control the pace as she was completely gone, the sensations lancing through her body had left her totally pliant to his ministrations, and he fucking adored the fact she surrendered to him, that she felt safe enough to do so.

“Frankie…” she panted softly as he continued to push into her, driving deep, and she gave a squeak as he rotated his hips, his fingers letting go of her face to slide down her body, between her legs and she gave a long wail of delight as he fondled her bud, “Shit…I’m…”

“Go one, come for me baby…” he nipped at her ear “I got you, I promise…”

With a last, silent moan she came, hard, her knees almost buckling, but Frank held her to him as she blissed out completely, the entire world fading around her as she felt nothing but the familiar hot, warm pleasure as her abdomen contracted and relaxed as her walls spasmed around him over and over.

“Good girl…” he praised as he continued thrusting through, the heat in his own belly now beginning to spike even more, “Such a good girl for me…”

She preened at his praise, relaxing slightly into his hold as he kissed her neck once more, picking up the pace slightly. She reached back with one hand to cup his balls and with an almost violent buck forward he came, biting down gently on her shoulder, muffling the noises of satisfaction and pleasure that rolled from the back of his throat.

His hips stilled and neither of them moved, his hands gently flexing on her hips before he gave a soft chuckle of satisfaction and he pulled out of her, taking care to keep her as close to him as he could. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and she turned her head, greeting his lips in a soft, gentle kiss and he smiled as she pulled away, rubbing her nose against his.

“You should take the day off more often” she quipped and Frank could do nothing but laugh.

“I fahkin’ love you.” He chuckled and she grinned, giving a shrug.

“I’m a very lovable person.”

“That you are cowgirl.” He nodded, “That you are.”

*****

“Felicity Rose Gallagher, if you ask me one more time if we are sure we’re going to be ok I’m gonna go mad.” Verity glared at Fliss who had just asked the question for the umpteenth time since her parents had turned up for babysitting duty.

Fliss gave a groan and held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You’ve left him with us before, this is no different.” Verity looked at her “No go, go on, scoot.”

Over Fliss’ shoulder, Frank shot Verity a wink as he dropped his hand to the curve of his girl’s lower back.

“Come on Lissy, we’ll be late otherwise.”

“Yeah, and I wanna get back to eat.” Bill said, twirling his car keys.

“Maybe I should drive?” Fliss looked at Frank who took a deep breath as Verity made an annoyed noise in her throat.

“If you want to drive, then that’s up to you.” Frank said simply as she bit her lip. “Be a shame though, I was gonna treat you to that champagne you demanded…maybe not quite a swimming pool full but…”

Fliss looked at him for a second before she shook her head “I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologising.” He chuckled softly “Baby what do you want to do?”

She glanced at Alex who was led in Verity’s arms, happily grinning up at his Nanna before she turned to Frank. “No, you’re right. We haven’t been out for months so…”she nodded. “Let’s go.” “Halle-fuckin-lujah.” Bill mumbled, earning himself a glare from Fliss. “V, I’ll grab us some take-out on the way back.”

“Bye baby…” Fliss crossed the room to drop a kiss on Alex’s head and then turned, taking Frank’s outstretched hand. “We won’t be too late…” she tossed over her shoulder at her mum. Verity shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re staying so be as late as you want.”

Fliss nodded and Frank squeezed his hand around hers as they left the room, not before he threw a smile at Verity who gave him a knowing one back. Fliss had been fine all week with the principle of going out…right up until she had gotten out of her second shower of the day that evening, when she’d suddenly had an attack of conscience about leaving him with her parents whilst she went out drinking. Frank was sharp enough to know full well this was linked to her current feelings of inadequacy, and he also knew that no matter what he said or did, there was nothing he could do to stop that bar be there for her and give her the reassurance that she needed.

That and simply love her, which was a given, because he did with every single breath he took.

“You look gorgeous.” He said to her gently as they walked to her dad’s car. She smiled and glanced down at the dark blue peplum top she was wearing, coupled with faded jeans and a white denim jacket. She’d been over the moon to find out she could fit back in those jeans so he wasn’t surprised she’d chosen them for the evening. On her feet she wore a simple pair of yellow heeled pumps, complete with matching bag. Her hair was down in loose waves, and her make-up was simple, a light dusting of rose gold powder on her lids.

“Thanks.” She said, before she eyed him up and down and he grinned as he knew full well what she was thinking, given that he was dressed in his yellow and black palm-tree Hawaiian print shirt.

“You said my shit shits were endearing.” He said and she gave a laugh, shrugging.

“You wouldn’t be Frank without them.” She smiled and he grinned.

Fliss declined the front seat when Frank offered it to her, instead climbing into the back behind her dad taking the time to check up on a few emails and the yard’s social media accounts. The three of them made easy chat on the way into St Pete’s and they thanked Bill for the lift as they both climbed out. Fliss instructed her dad to call them if there was any problems and he simply rolled his eyes and told her to “piss off and have a good time”.

They’d picked to go to Rios for dinner before they were heading down to Ferg’s to meet up with the others a little later on. It had become a little bit of a running joke between Bonnie and Fliss that, as much of a dive as Ferg’s was, frankly the two women preferred it to any of the bars they frequented. It was casual, fun, they knew a hell of a lot of people in there including most of the bar staff, and it held good memories. It suited both Frank and Simon down to the ground, both of them happy to tease their girls about having simple taste until Fliss normally quipped back along the lines of that being the reason she was marrying Frank in the first place. But when he pushed all jokes aside, he was glad she was so down to Earth. He had nothing against Greg or Jake’s wives but man, they were high maintenance.

But not his Lissy.

As it was still early and they wanted to chill out, they had opted to eat in the more casual outside lounge area which sported the roof bar and offered an all evening Tapas style menu, not the full a la carte main restaurant menu. As such they were led through to their table on the veranda. Neither of them had been into this part since the refurb, the last time Fliss came it hadn’t been finished but now, she felt a smile cross her face as she looked around. It was cosy and casual, right up her street. The tables were slightly lower than normal and appeared to all be different shapes and sizes, made out of driftwood and pallets. They were decked with large candles held in jars in the middle and surrounded by comfy chairs and bean bags all of which sported blankets given that the time of year meant sometimes in the evening it could be quite chilly at night. In the middle of the veranda was a large stone fire pit which was covered by an ornamental, wrought iron cage that spiralled to a point some 8 foot off the ground, and the bar stood to the rear right hand corner with a few people sat down enjoying a drink.

“Oh my God, I love it.” Fliss muttered to Frank and he looked down at her, nodding.

“This is pretty cool” he conceded.

“The tables and seats…it’s just how I pictured our wedding.” She said as they were led over to their spot at the rear, which was just by the glass barrier of the roof, over-looking the beach and the ocean.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, looking at her.

She nodded “Rustic, causal, bean bags, blankets…that type of thing…although it won’t be that cold then…”

“If you want blankets, baby, you can have blankets.” He chuckled kissing her forehead as they settled down onto the comfy plush seats which to Fliss’ delight were also bean bags just shaped differently. The teenage kid who had shown them to their table soon returned with the menus and informed them that as it was the first week they’d opened the terrace, with every bottle of wine purchased, there was complementary charcuterie tasting platter included. Fliss’ eyes lit up and Frank knew why, it was probably her favourite thing to eat in the world and he had to admit, she did a pretty wicked board herself when they were entertaining. With that in mind, he ordered them a bottle of Pinot Grigio and they sat back, Frank’s arm dropping over Fliss’ shoulders as she looked around.

“You know, if this is the type of thing you want, why not take a few photos and then we can start looking around.” Frank suggested and Fliss looked at him, smiling. “You can give Bobbi a call. I know you want to organise it yourself but she’ll probably have a list of suppliers, caterers, that sorta stuff for you to look at.” “I already know what I want for catering.” Fliss looked at him.

“You do?” Frank asked.

“Yup. I want food trucks. Mexican and Pizza.”

Frank cocked his head to one side, smiling as he looked at her “That’s actually a fucking brilliant idea.”

“No fancy sit down meal, if it stays for a couple of hours then people can grab what they want when they want.”

“Love it.” Frank grinned, looking up as their waiter appeared with their bottle of wine. He poured them both a glass and set the ice bucket in the middle of the table, before he disappeared again.  Frank picked his glass up and Fliss did the same, the pair of them gently clinking them together, smiling. “To our first date in…what? 4 months?” Frank teased and Fliss shrugged.

“I don’t know, I lost track of time…been kinda busy.” She teased as Frank chuckled, leaning down to give her a soft kiss.

Their charcuterie board arrived not long after and they then placed their order, opting for the Chef’s Selection, a number of small tapas dishes which as the name suggested, would be selected by the chef for them. Fliss had liked the idea of it all being rather mysterious and as the waiter had asked what kind of thing they liked they’d both listed a few things and he’d nodded, heading away with their order.

Frank reached over for the wine bottle to top Fliss’ glass up and she thanked him, taking another sip, before he saw her bite her lip and she reached into her purse.

“Congratulations.” He said dryly, teasing her a little as she turned to him. He nodded to the phone “You made it like 45 minutes since we walked out of the door without checking up on him.” “I wasn’t…” she began to protest and he gave her a look and she groaned, tossing her phone back in her purse “Ok, fine…maybe I was.” “Honey, he’ll be ok.” Frank said gently, his hand on her knee “You’re mom and dad did this all before remember?”

“I know, I know…” she said, before she reached over for an olive and popped it in her mouth.

Frank then diverted the subject, got her talking about her afternoon teaching and she animatedly filled him in on how nice it had been to get back to seeing some of her clients. The conversation was easy, fun, they laughed and giggled away and a little over half an hour later when their food arrived they’d worked though their first bottle of wine and Frank then ordered them a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Brut, just as he’d promised.

The food was amazing, Frank couldn’t fault a single thing about it, other than maybe it was a little too good as his jeans definitely felt a little tighter around the waist when they finished their meal because despite the fact he was full he just couldn’t stop eating. As the waiter came to clean the empty dishes away, Fliss then heard her phone going. Reaching into her purse she read the message and smiled before she turned the phone to Frank. It was a picture of Alex, fast asleep against Bill’s chest as he sat in their lounge.

“See.” Frank smile “He’s happy as a pig in shit.” “Frank!” Fliss scoffed, slapping his arm, “Don’t call our baby a pig.” “I was talking about your dad.”

“Oh…I’m so telling him you said that.” She said as they both laughed and she shook her head “You’re a bad man.”

“You love it honey.” He teased and she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” She leaned over, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. She glanced down at her phone and smiled again before she put it away “We did good though. We made a pretty cute baby.” “Good genes.” Frank boasted and Fliss laughed and he smiled at her, brushing her hair back behind her ear before he rest his arm along the back of the soft chair she was in. “Ever think you’ll fancy another?”

“Another baby?” Fliss asked and Frank nodded. “Fuck no.” she spluttered and Frank let out a loud laugh. “I mean I wouldn’t change any of this for the world but, well, he wasn’t exactly on my life plan…”

“Good, because I don’t want one either.” He said in between his chuckles as he reached for his champagne flute.

“Well, you know…” Fliss said, mimicking him and picking hers up “There is one way we could make sure it doesn’t happen again…” she moved the hand that wasn’t holding her drink and mimed a pair of scissors snipping the air. Frank choked on his drink, spluttering slightly as the bubbles threatened to fizz down his nose. Fliss roared with laughter as he wiped at his shirt and glared at her.

“Absolutely no way in hell.”

“Why not?” she shrugged.

“Because…well, just no!” he said, grimacing, “I couldn’t do that to Little Frank.” “Little Frank…jesus…I can’t…”  Fliss’ laughter grew even louder and the familiar snorting that happened when she was laughing beyond control started, which set Frank off again. She clamped her hand over her mouth, slapping his arm and looked away from him, trying to control herself. Eventually they managed to stop and Frank shook his head, composing himself before he asked for the check.

*****

They hit a cab down to Ferg’s and Fliss squealed when she saw Bonnie, sweeping her up into a huge hug before examining her ring up close whilst Frank shook Simon’s hand, pulling him into a bro hug, slapping his back. They were joined shortly afterwards by the rest of the gang, and when Simon and Bonnie broke their news to everyone there were more loud cheers and a shout of “shots all round” from Jake. Frank kept a careful eye on Fliss, who was already flushed from what they’d drunk over dinner, especially seeing as she hadn’t had a proper drink in over a year now. She downed 2 tequilas and then shook her head when someone asked her if she wanted another, instead requesting a water.

The gang moved to their preferred spot over at one of the tables at the back, round the corner away from the bar area, and they had a good hour or so catch up before the boys wanted to shoot some pool. Together they made their way over to the games area, the girls settling at one of the tall tables by the side.

“So how is the little one?” Greg turned to Frank as Simon and Jake racked the pool balls up, and he beamed in response.

“Ah Greg, he’s fahkin’ awesome.” Frank gushed “I just…he’s great, really great. Other than being a little cock block that is.” Greg snorted “Yeah I hate to break it to you, but that only gets worse as they get older…especially when they learn how to climb out of their crib and come to your room.” “Imma get a lock on the door.” Frank stated simply and Greg laughed as they grabbed a cue each, chalking the end.

They shot one game and then Frank said it was his round, so he headed off to the bar. He nodded to Dave, asking for the same again plus another bottle of water for Fliss and as he headed off to get their drinks, the young woman on the seat next to Frank jumped down from the stool next to him. Frank fished in his pocket for his wallet, pausing as he heard a little yelp and he turned his head to the right to see the guy sat two stools down had his arm curled around the young woman’s upper arm. She tried to get free but the guy’s grip tightened and Frank felt a spike of anger in his chest. All he could see in his mind was Fliss and that bastard ex-husband of hers hurting her. And he knew then he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, let this go.

“We’re not done yet.” The guy said loudly, a sneer on his face as he looked at the girl. Frank quickly stepped up behind her, and he looked at the guy and shook his head.

“Yes, you are.” He said, drawing himself up to full height, shoulders tensing, his eyes not once leaving the douchebag in front of him as he kept his voice calm and level “Let the lady go, man.”

“Mind your business, dick head.”

“It became my business when the whole bar could hear your conversation.” Frank retorted, his tone still calm. “Let her go. Now.” 

After a second or so, albeit reluctantly, the asshole did loosen his grip so that the young girl could remove her arm from his hand meaning she could get out of the way. She headed down to the far end of the bar, Frank watching her for a second before he turned back to the man in front of him who was now wobbling to his feet, his fist clenching by his side.

Frank snorted to himself. Was this asshole really going to go there? Sure, the inebriated piece of shit was built, he probably had a good 20 pounds on him, but Frank himself was no push over. He was in decent shape, he knew that, and given his chances against someone who was struggling to stand up straight, well, he’d take them.

“What are you, some kinda knight in shining armor?” the guy snorted. “Fuck you, man!”

Before Frank had time for a rebuttal, asshole had made a run for him and Frank almost lazily sidestepped as the drunk swung a punch at him. Not being able to stop, Mr Drunk asshole pitched forward and smacked into a chair, catching his head on the adjacent table-top. He groaned out in pain as he held his head on the ground. 

“Jeff! What the hell is going on?”

Frank looked up to see a group of guys heading back in from the outside of the patio and for the first time he felt a little nervous. He looked around, and to his relief he saw Simon and Jake approaching.

“Get him outta here!” Dave said loudly “Your friend is drunk and startin’ fights in my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the cops.”

The guys were fast to act, quickly shuffling ‘Jeff’ out and cursing at him for ruining their night.

“Fucking prick…” Dave shook his head, before he looked at Frank. “Nice going man, this rounds on the house.” “Thanks Dave…” Frank smiled at him.

“Hey bud, you ok?” Simon clapped Frank on the shoulder as Jake eyed the guys leaving “What the fuck?” “Oh he was hassling some girl.” Frank said, shaking his head, “She was petrified.” “What a dick.” Jake mumbled, turning back to him. “She ok?” “Not sure…” Frank said, looking round the bar as Dave placed the tray of drinks down in front of him. He didn’t know whether she had stayed or scarpered but he soon spotted her. She was sat on a chair, her arms over her stomach at the opposite end of the bar. Frank felt a pang of sympathy for her, she was clearly here on her own for whatever reason. “Do me a favour and take the drinks back to the tables will you?” he said to Jake and Simon, before he strode over, stopping besides her.

“Hey, you okay?”  he asked her gently.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Thank you for helping me. You’re like my hero.”  she let out a nervous laugh as a pink blush settled on her cheeks.

“You’re welcome but I was just doing what any person would do.” Frank smiled, a little embarrassed at the compliment. “My name’s Frank, by the way. You want some water?”

She offered her name and nodded. Frank turned to Dave “Hey man, can she get a water”?

“Sure.” Dave nodded, reaching into the fridge for a bottle. He passed it over and she took it with a thanks, taking a slow sip before she set the bottle down and looked back at Frank.

“So, Frank. Is there any way I could thank you for your bravery? Maybe treat you to a coffee sometime?” at that she reached forward and put her hand on top of his forearm gently, looking at him expectantly.

Shit. Not another fucking Vegas.

As gently as he could he moved his arm away, coughing a little as he shook his head. “I… uh, thank you for the offer, but not sure my fiancée would appreciate that.”

“Oh, god. I’m sorry.” She blushed again and pulled her hand away.

He smiled kindly at her, but before he could assure her not to worry about it he heard Fliss shouting. “Frank!”

He turned to see her walking towards him, a worried expression on her face. “Are you okay?” “Yeah Lissy, I’m fine.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her temple lightly. 

“What happened?” she asked, searching his eyes “Jake and Simon mentioned there’d been a fight and…” “Just some drunken asshole harassing this lady.” He said, nodding to the woman. “I stepped in that’s all. He didn’t hit me, don’t worry.”

Fliss looked at him, then to the woman and back again as Frank introduced her. The young woman reached out and shook Fliss hand as Frank’s arm dropped to her back, gently brushing underneath her top.

"Well, I think I’ve had enough ‘fun’ for the night.” The girl laughed dryly. “I’m gonna head out. Thank you again, Frank. It was nice meeting you Fliss. You’ve got quite a guy." 

Fliss looked at Frank whose cheeks had flushed slightly and she nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I do. Take care.”

They stood watching her leave before Fliss turned to Frank, her hands sliding up his chest “Like a regular real life Captain America ain’t you? Standing up for the little guy.”

Frank rolled his eyes “Your Marvel obsession is ridiculous.”

She shrugged as he dropped a kiss to her lips before they headed back over to join their friends.

***** An hour or so later Fliss was ready to go home, her feet hurt, her boobs hurt and she was quite drunk. She leaned over to Frank who was sat next to her, her hand curling round his thigh and he turned to her.

“You ok sweetheart?”

“No, I mean yeah, I mean…” she sighed “I’m ready to go home, do you mind?” “Course not.” He smiled, giving a little chuckle “I’ll get us an Uber ok?”

He reached for his phone, ordered the car and to Fliss’ relief there was one literally round the corner. They stood up, bid their friends good night sharing a few hugs and the like before Frank looped an arm round Fliss’ shoulders, hers slinking around his waist as they walked slowly out of the bar. Frank could tell she was a little unsteady on her feet and he smiled to himself, pleased she’d let go enough to enjoy herself.

Carefully he made sure she got down the steps ok and they walked along the little path that led down to the front of the row of bars that Ferg’s was at the end of. As they emerged onto the road area, waiting for their cab Frank heard a shout.

“Oi..”

He wheeled round and saw the asshole from the bar, Jeff, stumbling towards him as his friends hastily followed, shouting at him to leave it alone.

“Fuck…” Frank mumbled, “Fliss, move honey, quick…” She looked up at him, then to the guy approaching, and he felt her tense. He stepped forward, his arm stretched out to the side, ready to push her behind him but in a flash she ducked under it and before he could stop her she’d raised her fist and smashed it straight into the approaching guy’s face. Her punch connected with a satisfying crack and he dropped like a stone to the floor, clutching his nose which was billowing blood.

His friends appeared once more, apologising profoundly as they hoisted him to his feet, he was groaning and clutching at his face, as they led him away.

“Lissy…” Frank’s voice was a mixture of shock and awe as she turned to him, shaking out her fist.

“Sorry, oh my God that was so bad…” she mumbled, “Was that bad? Are you angry?”

“Angry?” he looked at her, shaking his head “No. Why would- what- where the fuck did you learn to punch like that?”

“Steve.” She shrugged “Haven’t done it in a while…”

Frank blinked as their Uber pulled up and she made her way towards it. He shook himself out of his shocked stance and strode forward, opening the car door for her. He stopped it halfway, causing her to look at him and he dropped his head, his lips brushing her ear. “Baby, I just want you to know that I’m all sorts of turned on right now…”

She looked up at him and her lips quirked up at the side into a cheeky grin. “Best hope this guy doesn’t take the long way home then…” Frank gave a little growl as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He opened the door fully, to allow her to climb into the back seat, before he hastily followed her in. As the driver set off, Frank leaned forward between the front seats, which wasn’t exactly easy given the bulge in the front of his jeans and he nodded to the driver.

“Extra 5 bucks in it for you pal, if you make it quick…”

#riding on #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #gifted #gifted fan fic

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 15- TFI Friday

Summary: It’s Friday (thank f**k), and Frank’s taken the day off work so that he and Fliss can take an early dinner before meeting the Circle of Truth to celebrate Bonnie and Simon’s engagement…but Fliss is struggling with her emotions, especially when it comes to leaving Alex behind.

Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (NSFW, no under 18s…)

Pairing: Frank Adler x Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  A lot of fluff going down in this chapter…they deserve it! We also get to see Frank’s version of the events from Done With Nice Guys which was written by @smediumsmeatbae​. Please check it out, it’s adorable!!!  

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 14

This bed is on fire with passionate love. The neighbours complain about the noises above, but she only comes when she’s on top. My therapist said not to see you no more, he said you’re like a disease without any cure, he said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no…ah, you think you’re so pretty…

Frank woke, reaching out blindly for his phone to silence the alarm. He swiped the button across and turned over, fully intending on giving Fliss a cuddle for another 5 minutes or so before he had to get up when realisation crashed over him and he gave a groan. He'd booked the fucking day off so he could take Fliss for a late afternoon-slash-early evening meal and had forgotten to turn off his bastard alarm.

And then it further dawned on him that it didn't actually matter because Mary still needed to get up and ready for school regardless of his day off or not.

But then…it was Friday. Her university day…which meant she wasn’t due in until 10…

With a grin his arm tightened over Fliss’ waist, hand splaying on her belly as he pulled her back into him, nuzzling his nose into her neck, feeling a stirring in his boxers where his cock was already semi-hard thanks to the life of its own it had in a morning. Part of him wanted to wake her for a bit of fun before the rest of the house rose, the other knew she was bound to be tired after Alex had been an absolute horror during the night, but in the end the decision was made for him as he felt her shift a little, before she stretched out her limbs, a soft sigh escaping from her mouth. "Morning Sailor..." Fliss yawned.

"Morning Cowgirl" He said, closing his eyes and snuggling closer into her. “I didn’t wake you did I?”

“The alarm did.” She shifted slightly before she propped herself up to check on Alex who was fast asleep "Yeah, now he sleeps" she grumbled.

Frank gave a chuckle and pressed another kiss to her neck. “Yeah he was really not playing ball last night was he?"

"Three times." She groaned "He's a bottomless pit Frank."

"I told you to stay on bed for the third." Frank sighed.

"Once I'm awake I'm awake." She shrugged. "He cries and it’s like my boobs send an alarm to my brain.”

Frank chuckled "Well like your mom suggested, introducing the formula should help. He'll fill up from less and give you a break."

"You mean because I can't feed him what he needs myself." She let put a sigh and at that Frank took a deep breath and propped himself up on his elbow.

"Hey, look at me." He said sternly and she rolled onto her back, her brown eyes blinking up at him, auburn and blonde hair splayed across her pillow. "You checked with the doctor, she said this perfectly normal..."

"Then why do I feel so shit." She asked, tears brimming her eyes "I can't even feed our baby properly.”

"Oh, Lissy, come ‘ere..." He sighed gently as she rolled onto her side facing him, his arms cradling her close as she pressed her face into his chest, sniffling "Honey, you're a wonderful mom. Don't start beating yourself up about something that in the grand scheme of things really doesn't matter."

"It matters to me Frank."

"You think he gives a shit whether what he's getting is from you or not? Does he fuck, he just wants food." Frank told her softly, his hand rubbing up and down her back, underneath the sleep cami she was wearing. "If anything the fact you're doing this shows how much of a good mom you are. You spotted something that he needs and you're doing what you have to do to give it to him.” She stayed silent bar her little sniffles and he gently pressed a kiss to her head. "Don't think on it too much Fliss. I know it must feel shitty for you but he'll be fine. That I can promise you."

She took a deep breath and pulled back to look at him, and he gently brushed his lips against hers, the hand that was on her back stopping in the middle of the spine, holding her to him, kissing her lazily. She took it eagerly, allowing him to slowly ease her over onto her back, caging her underneath his body as his mouth moved to her jawline then her neck. She gave a soft sigh, her hands sliding into his sleep-messed hair and he’d just moved his mouth downwards, softly nipping at her chest through her top when, with his ever perfect timing, Alex let out a little whine.

“For fucks sake…” Frank grumbled, his head falling to the valley of Fliss’ chest as she chuckled, swatting at his head. With a sigh he propped himself up and dropped a kiss to her lips. “I’ll get him sorted.” he said. “You take a while, lay in.”

Fliss looked down at her boobs and then shrugged “Well seeing as he fed three times over night they’re not that swollen so…” Frank gave a snort as she looked at him, arching her eyebrows “Hey, the struggle is real, ok?"

“I didn’t suggest otherwise.” He hopped out of bed, pulling on a pair of sweats, yanking at the crotch as they felt a little tight thanks to the fact he was half hard, and a T-shirt as Fliss leaned over, gently rubbing Alex’s tummy. “Hey.” Frank looked at her as he picked his son up, gently placing a large hand on his back “If you’re swapping over to formula, does that mean Ben and Jerry are gonna go smaller?” he nodded at her chest “Because if so I may be forced to reconsider my stance on the situation.”

“If you didn’t have hold of our son I’d punch you.” Fliss glared and he gave a chuckle before he headed out of the room.

“Couldn’t you have slept for like 15 minutes longer this morning buddy?” he questioned gently as he entered the nursery, placing Alex down on the changing mat. “You totally cock blocked me. Which, for the record, is not cool.”

Alex looked at him, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, you might look like that.” Frank deadpanned, as Alex’s hands curled around his fingers. His little legs wiggled a little and Frank bent down with his mouth arranged in an open smile, causing Alex’s face to split into a little grin, his arms and legs waggling even faster. “Yeah, ok, I forgive you.” Frank chuckled before he changed him into a clean diaper and then padded downstairs to warm his bottle up, juggling his son easily in one arm as he did so.

By now Alex’s fairly decent mood had started to wane as he was hungry. The noises he made were getting louder and slightly more impatient, threatening to turn into an out and out cry.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s coming pal…” Frank dropped a gentle kiss to the downy hair on Alex’s head “I know, you’re hungry...despite the fact you had midnight, 1.30 am and 4am snack…”

He settled on the sofa, flicked on the TV for the morning news, positioned Alex and gave him his bottle, watching with a soft smile on his face as the baby’s cheeks worked hungrily taking the mix of breast and formula in the bottle. They’d started this just a few days or so ago after Fliss had simply been unable to stop him crying from hunger Tuesday afternoon and called her mom in a flap. She’d suggested doing what Steve and Sian had had to do with the twins, seeing as both of those had been greedy little bastards too so after a call to the Paediatrician, Fliss had reluctantly agreed. Frank did sympathise with her, and he’d been waiting for the inevitable tears which had finally come that morning, but it would be much easier for her in the long run all things considered, especially if as the doctor had suggested she could move to formula fully bar a morning feed.

Supporting Alex in one arm, he absentmindedly watched the anchor and co-anchor on the CNN morning news where they were talking to someone about a Thanksgiving tradition or something, he wasn’t really paying much attention if he was honest. It freaked him out how fast it was creeping up on them. Soon it would be fucking Christmas. Thankfully, Fliss seemed to be on top of it mostly. They were hosting a small Thanksgiving with his mother then heading over to Verity and Bill’s for the usual party, and for Christmas Steve, Sian and the boys were over so they were spending the day at Verity and Bill’s along with Roberta and his mother…which was always fun. It never ceased to amaze him how welcoming Fliss’ family had been to his own fucked up version of one.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jerked from them by a little popping noise and he looked down to see Alex had moved away from the bottle, and to his astonishment there was a small amount left.

“Finally full up buddy?” Frank asked, offering Alex the bottle again but he turned his head away un interested. “Guess so.” Frank smiled, placing the bottle on the coffee table and moving Alex so he was leaning against his chest, head on his shoulder as he burped him. It took a little while but eventually he obliged and Frank chuckled, turning his head to look at him, bright blue eyes staring around the room. He was developing so fast now, it was ridiculous.

“Shall we go wake your sister up?” He asked softly, “Yeah, okay, come on.”

Thankfully, Mary was actually pretty co-operative most mornings, and today being one of her university split days she was in a good mood, rabbiting on to Frank about the assignment she had done. They ate breakfast before she headed off upstairs to get changed and once she was back, he told her to watch Alex for a second whilst he made his way into the bedroom with a plate of toast and a coffee for Fliss, knowing full well she wouldn’t be asleep. And sure enough, she lay on her back, watching the TV.  She beamed at him as she shuffled herself up, taking the mug off him as he placed the plate on the night stand and perched on the side of the bed.  

“Where’s Bean?” she asked.

“Mary’s watching him for a second so I could bring you that.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ll take him with me when I drop Mary off. He likes the truck. I might pop into the shop for twenty minutes or so, the guys haven’t seen him in a while and I like showing him off.” Frank smiled a little bashfully and Fliss’ smile grew even larger. “Imma dress him in his Made In Boston T-shirt…”

Fliss chuckled “I still can’t believe Bonnie and Simon got him that.” “Oh, I can.” Frank nodded “In fact, that’s quite tame for what I expected from Si to be honest.” “Yeah, that’s true…” Fliss conceded “Oh, don’t forget, I’m teaching at two for an hour.” “I’ll be well back before then.” Frank snorted, “It’s not even eight yet.” “I know I was just pointing out you can have some more male bonding time then too.” “Great, maybe I’ll introduce him to Debbie Does Dallas…” Frank teased and Fliss snorted

“Well, we know he likes boobs so…”

Frank gave a laugh before he leaned over and gave her another soft kiss. “I’ll get him dressed and then we’re heading out so I’ll see you in a little while. Love you.” “Love you too.” She smiled, as he bumped his nose against hers and left.

*****

Once he’d dropped Mary off and walked her into her lecture hall where he handed her over to her tutor, he headed back out to the truck, clipping the car seat back in place. He dropped into work, where as predicted the guys on the team all came to say hi, commenting on how big he was compared to last time they’d seen him. He double checked a couple of the rotas for Monday before he headed home, getting back just after 11, by which point Alex was fast asleep. He entered the house, greeting Thor who came bounding down the stairs to check who’d dared to walk into his home.

“Just me buddy.” He said, patting the large dog’s head before he headed upstairs knowing full well that if Thor had been upstairs that meant Fliss was too. And sure enough, he opened the door to their bedroom and heard the shower in the en-suite going. Fred opened his eye and looked at Frank from where he had been lounging on their bed, his tail swishing slightly before he returned to his cat nap, not even bothering to move.

With a snort at the cat’s blatant lack of any fucks to give, Frank placed the car seat on the dresser, smoothing back Alex’s hair as he continued to sleep and then realised that this was a prime opportunity for finishing what he started this morning. With a dirty smirk to himself he opened the door to the bathroom. Fliss’ head was tipped back, face turned to the stream of water, suds cascading from her long hair down her body which instantly had him half hard again in the constraints of his sweats.

Yup, Frank Adler was a big fan of getting dirty in the shower.

“Room for another?” he asked, cheekily, pulling off his T-shirt. Fliss jumped a little as she hadn’t heard him come in and then turned to look at him through the shower screen, most of her body obscured by the frosted glass pattern. She grinned and raised her hand, making a beckoning motion with her finger. In a flash he shed the remainder of his clothing and stepped into the large cubicle with her, his hands reaching out for her hips, pulling her towards him, so her back was pressed to his chest.

“I believe we have unfinished business Miss Gallagher.” He said, feeling her slick skin pressing against his as he nipped at her neck.

“Really?” she pondered, “I don’t recall…”

“No?” he teased, his lips placing another kiss to her wet skin, “Maybe this will jog your memory…”

His hands slid up, tracing the curve of her waist before he gently cupped her breasts, calloused thumbs skating over the nipples. With a reaction that was automatic, she let out a soft sigh as he gently teased her, his palms and fingers working their magic, all the time taking care not to be too rough as he knew she was sensitive. But in the end it was Fliss demanding he go harder as she arched her back, pushing herself into his hands as she felt the aching brewing between her legs. She went to squeeze them closed, anything to help relieve the pressure that was building and she felt Frank’s lips smirk against her neck, one of his hands brushing down her body, slipping between her folds, right where she needed him most.

“Fuck…” she swore, as he gently played her, slow, teasing strokes and before long she was rocking against his hand, seeking friction as she was spiralling higher and higher, Frank’s rock hard dick pressing into the lower part of her back.

“Turn around…” Frank whispered into her ear and she did as she was told, greeting his lips in a filthy kiss as he pivoted her round so that her back was pressed to the wall of the shower cubicle. His mouth moved from hers to her jawline, the whiskers of his beard gently sliding over her skin as he dipped his head to kiss her collar bone before he rather gracefully dropped to his knees. He glanced up at her, deep brown met ocean blue, her eyes full with a heady combination of love, desire and lust and it drew a low growl from his throat as he reached down for her left ankle. With a steady hand Frank lifted it over his right shoulder and gently kissed and sucked his way up her leg, leaving a nip at the apex of her thigh. She moaned loudly, her head falling back against the tiles as he moved to where she wanted him the most, his tongue long and flat against her centre as he lapped at her entrance all the way up to her sensitive bud. Her body jolted as she let out a soft sigh of his name which was laced with satisfaction as he set his mouth to work.

As Frank devoured her with the enthusiasm of a man starved, Fliss curled her fingers into his damp hair, the movement a reflex as the other slapped flat against the grey slate tiles. The contrast of his short beard scratching at her sensitive skin to his soft tongue and mouth was sending her body into overdrive. He gently grazed her bud with his teeth which caused her hips to violently buck forward, her nails dug into his scalp and he gave a chuckle which vibrated against her clit causing her to groan loudly.

“Jesus Christ Frank…” she panted, looking down at him. He peeked up from between her legs, a cheeky glint in his eyes as he continued, his tongue flicking into her entrance, before he sucked on her bud and then she was gone. Her knees trembled as her hand pulled his hair, almost to the point it was painful as she gave a loud cry, her other hand reaching to his head as she used both to push him away from her sensitive sex as she clamped down around thin air. With a smug sense of satisfaction at having undone her to the extent he had, Frank rose to his feet, wiping his wet face with an equally wet forearm and he cupped her cheeks, kissing her again, his tongue tangling against hers.

Fliss’ wrecked brain had barely registered his mouth was on hers when he pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as the water cascaded down on them both. With his hands on her hips, he spun her round, pulling her back, nudging her ankles with his feet to open her up a little more. With one palm on the base of her back he gently bent her forward ever so slightly, took his throbbing cock in his hand and lined himself up. With a gentle, slow movement he slipped inside, burying himself in her heat, the rumble from his throat slipping out of his mouth at the relief of finally being inside her. Once he was fully sheathed his hands moved, one to her stomach, holding her in place, the other up to her breasts as she arched her back, her head back against his shoulder as he drove in and out of her, slowly, deliberately. Her right hand moved back to grab at his thigh, her fingertips digging into the hard muscle as he thrust forward, the other hand flat reached back to tangle in his hair.

“God you feel so good, baby.”  He groaned, his mouth licking a stripe up the side of her neck as her head lolled to the right, tracing her wet skin up to her jaw line, “So fahkin’ good…”

The hand that had been on her belly moved to grasp her chin with his finger and thumb, tipping her face round to his so he could kiss her. It was all Fliss could do to kiss him back, allowing him to control the pace as she was completely gone, the sensations lancing through her body had left her totally pliant to his ministrations, and he fucking adored the fact she surrendered to him, that she felt safe enough to do so.

“Frankie…” she panted softly as he continued to push into her, driving deep, and she gave a squeak as he rotated his hips, his fingers letting go of her face to slide down her body, between her legs and she gave a long wail of delight as he fondled her bud, “Shit…I’m…”

“Go one, come for me baby…” he nipped at her ear “I got you, I promise…”

With a last, silent moan she came, hard, her knees almost buckling, but Frank held her to him as she blissed out completely, the entire world fading around her as she felt nothing but the familiar hot, warm pleasure as her abdomen contracted and relaxed as her walls spasmed around him over and over.

“Good girl…” he praised as he continued thrusting through, the heat in his own belly now beginning to spike even more, “Such a good girl for me…”

She preened at his praise, relaxing slightly into his hold as he kissed her neck once more, picking up the pace slightly. She reached back with one hand to cup his balls and with an almost violent buck forward he came, biting down gently on her shoulder, muffling the noises of satisfaction and pleasure that rolled from the back of his throat.

His hips stilled and neither of them moved, his hands gently flexing on her hips before he gave a soft chuckle of satisfaction and he pulled out of her, taking care to keep her as close to him as he could. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and she turned her head, greeting his lips in a soft, gentle kiss and he smiled as she pulled away, rubbing her nose against his.

“You should take the day off more often” she quipped and Frank could do nothing but laugh.

“I fahkin’ love you.” He chuckled and she grinned, giving a shrug.

“I’m a very lovable person.”

“That you are cowgirl.” He nodded, “That you are.”

*****

“Felicity Rose Gallagher, if you ask me one more time if we are sure we’re going to be ok I’m gonna go mad.” Verity glared at Fliss who had just asked the question for the umpteenth time since her parents had turned up for babysitting duty.

Fliss gave a groan and held her hands up. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You’ve left him with us before, this is no different.” Verity looked at her “No go, go on, scoot.”

Over Fliss’ shoulder, Frank shot Verity a wink as he dropped his hand to the curve of his girl’s lower back. “Come on Lissy, we’ll be late otherwise.”

“Yeah, and I wanna get back to eat.” Bill said, twirling his car keys.

“Maybe I should drive?” Fliss looked at Frank who took a deep breath as Verity made an annoyed noise in her throat.

“If you want to drive, then that’s up to you.” Frank replied patiently as she bit her lip. “Be a shame though, I was gonna treat you to that champagne you demanded. Maybe not quite a swimming pool full but…”

Fliss looked at him for a second before she shook her head “I’m sorry…”

“Stop apologising.” He chuckled softly “Lissy, what do you want to do?”

She glanced at Alex who was led in Verity’s arms, happily grinning up at his Nanna before she turned to Frank. “No, you’re right. We haven’t been out for months so…”she nodded. “Let’s go.” “Halle-fuckin-lujah.” Bill mumbled, earning himself a glare from Fliss. “V, I’ll grab us some take-out on the way back.”

“Bye baby…” Fliss crossed the room to drop a kiss on Alex’s head and then turned, taking Frank’s outstretched hand. “We won’t be too late…” she tossed over her shoulder at her mum. Verity shrugged.

 “Doesn’t matter, we’re staying so be as late as you want.”

Fliss nodded and Frank squeezed his hand around hers as they left the room, not before he threw a smile at Verity who gave him a knowing one back. Fliss had been fine all week with the principle of going out…right up until she had gotten out of her second shower of the day that evening, when she’d suddenly had an attack of conscience about leaving him with her parents whilst she went out drinking. Frank was sharp enough to know full well this was linked to her current feelings of inadequacy, and he also knew that no matter what he said or did, there was nothing he could do to stop that bar be there for her and give her the reassurance that she needed.

That and simply love her, which was a given, because he did with every single breath he took.

“You look gorgeous.” He smiled at her as they walked to her dad’s car. She blushed a little and glanced down at the dark blue peplum top she was wearing, coupled with faded jeans and a white denim jacket. She’d been over the moon to find out she could fit back in those jeans so he wasn’t surprised she’d chosen them for the evening. On her feet she wore a simple pair of yellow heeled pumps, complete with matching bag. Her hair was down in loose waves, and her make-up was simple, a light dusting of rose gold powder on her lids.

“Thanks.” She smiled, before she eyed him up and down and he grinned as he knew full well what she was thinking, given that he was dressed in his yellow and black palm-tree Hawaiian print shirt.

“You said my shit shits were endearing.” He quipped and she gave a laugh, shrugging.

“You wouldn’t be Frank without them.”

Fliss declined the front seat when Frank offered it to her, instead climbing into the back behind her dad taking the time to check up on a few emails and the yard’s social media accounts. The three of them made easy chat on the way into St Pete’s and thanked Bill for the lift as they both climbed out. Fliss instructed her dad to call them if there was any problems and he simply rolled his eyes and told her to “piss off and have a good time”.

They’d picked to go to Rios for dinner before they were heading down to Ferg’s to meet up with the others a little later on. It had become a little bit of a running joke between Bonnie and Fliss that, as much of a dive as Ferg’s was, frankly the two women preferred it to any of the bars they frequented. It was casual, fun, they knew a hell of a lot of people in there including most of the bar staff, and it held good memories. It suited both Frank and Simon down to the ground, both of them happy to tease their girls about having simple taste until Fliss normally quipped back along the lines of that being the reason she was marrying Frank in the first place. But when he pushed all jokes aside, he was glad she was so down to Earth. He had nothing against Greg or Jake’s wives but man, they were high maintenance.

But not his Fliss.

As it was still early and they wanted to chill out, they had opted to eat in the more casual outside lounge area which sported the roof bar and offered an all evening Tapas style menu, not the full a la carte main restaurant menu. As such they were led through to their table on the veranda. Neither of them had been into this part since the refurb, the last time Fliss came it hadn’t been finished but now, she felt a smile cross her face as she looked around. It was cosy and casual, right up her street. The tables were slightly lower than normal and appeared to all be different shapes and sizes, made out of driftwood and pallets. They were decked with large candles held in jars in the middle and surrounded by comfy chairs and bean bags all of which sported blankets given that the time of year meant sometimes in the evening it could be quite chilly at night. In the middle of the veranda was a large stone fire pit which was covered by an ornamental, wrought iron cage that spiralled to a point some eight feet off the ground, and the bar stood to the rear right hand corner with a few people sat down enjoying a drink.

“Oh my God, I love it.” Fliss muttered to Frank and he looked down at her, nodding.

“This is pretty cool” he conceded.

“The tables and seats…it’s just how I pictured our wedding.” She said as they were led over to their spot at the rear, which was just by the glass barrier of the roof, over-looking the beach and the ocean.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, looking at her.

She nodded “Rustic, causal, bean bags, blankets…that type of thing…although it won’t be that cold then…”

“If you want blankets, baby, you can have blankets.” He chuckled kissing her forehead as they settled down onto the comfy plush seats which, to Fliss’ delight were also bean bags just shaped differently. The teenage kid who had shown them to their table soon returned with the menus and informed them that as it was the first week they’d opened the terrace, with every bottle of wine purchased, there was complementary charcuterie tasting platter included. Fliss’ eyes lit up and Frank knew why, it was probably her favourite thing to eat in the world and he had to admit, she did a pretty wicked board herself when they were entertaining. With that in mind, he ordered them a bottle of Pinot Grigio and they sat back, Frank’s arm dropping over Fliss’ shoulders as she looked around.

“You know, if this is the type of thing you want, why not take a few photos and then we can start looking around.” Frank suggested and Fliss looked at him, smiling. “You can give Bobbi a call. I know you want to organise it yourself but she’ll probably have a list of suppliers, caterers, that sorta stuff for you to look at.” “I already know what I want for catering.” Fliss looked at him.

“You do?” Frank asked.

“Yup. I want food trucks. Mexican and Pizza.”

Frank cocked his head to one side, smiling as he looked at her “That’s actually a fucking brilliant idea.”

“No fancy sit down meal, if it stays for a couple of hours then people can grab what they want when they want.”

“Love it.” Frank grinned, looking up as their waiter appeared with their bottle of wine. He poured them both a glass and set the ice bucket in the middle of the table, before he disappeared again.  Frank picked his glass up and Fliss did the same, the pair of them gently clinking them together, smiling. “To our first date in…what? Four months?” Frank teased and Fliss shrugged.

“I don’t know, I lost track of time…been kinda busy.” She teased as Frank chuckled, leaning down to give her a soft kiss.

Their charcuterie board arrived not long after and they then placed their order, opting for the Chef’s Selection, a number of small tapas dishes which as the name suggested, would be selected by the chef for them. Fliss had liked the idea of it all being rather mysterious and as the waiter had asked what kind of thing they liked they’d both listed a few things and he’d nodded, heading away with their order.

Frank reached over for the wine bottle to top Fliss’ glass up and she thanked him, taking another sip, before he saw her bite her lip and she reached into her purse.

“Congratulations.” He said dryly, teasing her a little as she turned to him. He nodded to the phone “You made it like forty five minutes since we walked out of the door without checking up on him.” “I wasn’t…” she began to protest and he gave her a look and she groaned, tossing her phone back in her purse “Ok, fine…maybe I was.” “Honey, he’ll be ok.” Frank said gently, his hand on her knee “Your mom and dad did this all before remember?”

 “I know, I know…” she said, before she reached over for an olive and popped it in her mouth.

Frank then diverted the subject, got her talking about her afternoon teaching and she animatedly filled him in on how nice it had been to get back to seeing some of her clients. The conversation was easy, fun, they laughed and giggled away and a little over half an hour later when their food arrived they’d worked though their first bottle of wine and Frank then ordered them a bottle of Veuve Clicquot Brut, just as he’d promised.

The food was amazing, Frank couldn’t fault a single thing about it, other than maybe it was a little too good as his jeans definitely felt a little tighter around the waist when they finished their meal because despite the fact he was full he just couldn’t stop eating. As the waiter came to clean the empty dishes away, Fliss then heard her phone going. Reaching into her purse she read the message and smiled before she turned the phone to Frank. It was a picture of Alex, fast asleep against Bill’s chest as he sat in their lounge.

“See.” Frank smile “He’s happy as a pig in shit.”

“Frank!” Fliss scoffed, slapping his arm, “Don’t call our baby a pig.”

“I was talking about your dad.”

“Oh…I’m so telling him you said that.” She said as they both laughed and she shook her head “You’re a bad man.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” He teased and she grinned.

“Yeah, yeah I do.” She leaned over, pressing her lips to his in a soft kiss. She glanced down at her phone and smiled again before she put it away “We did good though. We made a pretty cute baby.”

“Good genes.” Frank boasted and Fliss laughed and he smiled at her, brushing her hair back behind her ear before he rest his arm along the back of the soft chair she was in. “Ever think you’ll fancy another?”

“Another baby?” Fliss asked and Frank nodded. “Fuck no.” she spluttered and Frank let out a loud laugh. “I mean I wouldn’t change any of this for the world but, well, he wasn’t exactly in our plans…”

“Good, because I don’t want one either.” He said in between his chuckles as he reached for his champagne flute.

“Well, you know…” Fliss said, mimicking him and picking hers up “There is one way we could make sure it doesn’t happen again…” she moved the hand that wasn’t holding her drink and mimed a pair of scissors snipping the air. Frank choked on his drink, spluttering slightly as the bubbles threatened to fizz down his nose. Fliss roared with laughter as he wiped at his shirt and glared at her.

“Absolutely no way in hell.”

“Why not?” she shrugged.

“Because…well, just no!” he said, grimacing, “I couldn’t do that to Little Frank.” “Little Frank…jesus…I can’t…”  Fliss’ laughter grew even louder and the familiar snorting that happened when she was laughing beyond control started, which set Frank off again. She clamped her hand over her mouth, slapping his arm and looked away from him, trying to control herself. Eventually they managed to stop and Frank shook his head, composing himself before he asked for the check.

*****

They hit a cab down to Fergs and Fliss squealed when she saw Bonnie, sweeping her up into a huge hug before examining her ring up close whilst Frank shook Simon’s hand, pulling him into a bro hug, slapping his back. They were joined shortly afterwards by the rest of the gang, and when Simon and Bonnie broke their news to everyone there were more loud cheers and a shout of “shots all round” from Jake. Frank kept a careful eye on Fliss, who was already flushed from what they’d drunk over dinner, especially seeing as she hadn’t had a proper drink in over a year now. She downed 2 tequilas and then shook her head when someone asked her if she wanted another, instead requesting a water.

The gang moved to their preferred spot over at one of the tables at the back, round the corner away from the bar area, and they had a good hour or so catch up before the boys wanted to shoot some pool. Together they made their way over to the games area, the girls settling at one of the tall tables by the side.

“So how is the little one?” Greg turned to Frank as Simon and Jake racked the pool balls up, and he beamed in response.

“Ah Greg, he’s fahkin’ awesome.” Frank gushed “I just…he’s great, really great. Other than being a little cock block that is.”

Greg snorted “Yeah I hate to break it to you, but that only gets worse as they get older…especially when they learn how to climb out of their crib and come to your room.”

“Imma get a lock on the door.” Frank stated simply and Greg laughed as they grabbed a cue each, chalking the end.

They shot one game and then Frank said it was his round, so he headed off to the bar. He nodded to Dave, asking for the same again plus another bottle of water for Fliss and as he headed off to get their drinks, the young woman on the seat next to Frank jumped down from the stool next to him. Frank fished in his pocket for his wallet, pausing as he heard a little yelp and he turned his head to the right to see the guy sat two stools down had his arm curled around the young woman’s upper arm. She tried to get free but the guy’s grip tightened and Frank felt a spike of anger in his chest. All he could see in his mind was Fliss and that bastard ex-husband of hers hurting her. And he knew then he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, let this go.

“We’re not done yet.” The guy said loudly, a sneer on his face as he looked at the girl. Frank quickly stepped up behind her, and he looked at the guy and shook his head.

“Yes, you are.” He said, drawing himself up to full height, shoulders tensing, his eyes not once leaving the douchebag in front of him as he kept his voice calm and level “Let the lady go, man.”

“Mind your business, dick head.”

“It became my business when the whole bar could hear your conversation.” Frank retorted, his tone still calm. “Let her go. Now.” 

After a second or so, albeit reluctantly, the asshole did loosen his grip so that the young girl could remove her arm from his hand meaning she could get out of the way. She headed down to the far end of the bar, Frank watching her for a second before he turned back to the man in front of him who was now wobbling to his feet, his fist clenching by his side.

Frank snorted to himself. Was this asshole really going to go there? Sure, the inebriated piece of shit was built, he probably had a good 20 pounds on him, but Frank himself was no push over. He was in decent shape, he knew that, and given his chances against someone who was struggling to stand up straight, well, he’d take them.

“What are you, some kinda knight in shining armor?” the guy snorted. “Fuck you, man!”

Before Frank had time for a rebuttal, asshole had made a run for him and Frank almost lazily sidestepped as the drunk swung a punch at him. Not being able to stop, Mr Drunk asshole pitched forward and smacked into a chair, catching his head on the adjacent table-top. He groaned out in pain as he held his head on the ground. 

“Jeff! What the hell is going on?”

Frank looked up to see a group of guys heading back in from the outside of the patio and for the first time he felt a little nervous. He looked around, and to his relief he saw Simon and Jake approaching.

“Get him outta here!” Dave said loudly “Your friend is drunk and startin’ fights in my bar. Get the fuck out before I call the cops.”

The guys were fast to act, quickly shuffling ‘Jeff’ out and cursing at him for ruining their night.

“Fucking prick.” Dave shook his head, before he looked at Frank. “Nice going man, this rounds on the house.” “Thanks Dave.” Frank smiled at him.

“Hey bud, you ok?” Simon clapped Frank on the shoulder as Jake eyed the guys leaving “What the fuck?” “Oh he was hassling some girl.” Frank said, shaking his head, “She was petrified.” “What a dick.” Jake mumbled, turning back to him. “She ok?” “Not sure.” Frank said, looking round the bar as Dave placed the tray of drinks down in front of him. He didn’t know whether she had stayed or scarpered but he soon spotted her. She was sat on a chair, her arms over her stomach at the opposite end of the bar. Frank felt a pang of sympathy for her, she was clearly here on her own for whatever reason. “Do me a favour and take the drinks back to the tables will you?” he said to Jake and Simon, before he strode over, stopping besides her.

“Hey, you okay?”  He asked her gently.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Thank you for helping me. You’re like my hero.”  She let out a nervous laugh as a pink blush settled on her cheeks.

“You’re welcome but I was just doing what any person would do.” Frank smiled, a little embarrassed at the compliment. “My name’s Frank, by the way. You want some water?”

She offered her name and nodded. Frank turned to Dave “Hey man, can she get a water”?

“Sure.” Dave nodded, reaching into the fridge for a bottle. He passed it over and she took it with a thanks, taking a slow sip before she set the bottle down and looked back at Frank.

“So, Frank. Is there any way I could thank you for your bravery? Maybe treat you to a coffee sometime?” at that she reached forward and put her hand on top of his forearm gently, looking at him expectantly.

Shit. Not another fucking Vegas.

As gently as he could he moved his arm away, coughing a little as he shook his head. “I… uh, thank you for the offer, but not sure my fiancée would appreciate that.”

“Oh, God. I’m sorry.” She blushed again and pulled her hand away.

He smiled kindly at her, but before he could assure her not to worry about it he heard Fliss shouting. “Frank!”

He turned to see her walking towards him, a worried expression on her face. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, Lissy I’m fine.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him, kissing her temple lightly. 

“What happened?” She asked, searching his eyes. “Jake and Simon mentioned there’d been a fight and…” “Just some drunken asshole harassing this lady.” He said, nodding to the woman. “I stepped in that’s all. He didn’t hit me, don’t worry.”

Fliss looked at him, then to the woman and back again as Frank introduced her. The young woman reached out and shook Fliss hand as Frank’s arm dropped to her back, gently brushing underneath her top.

"Well, I think I’ve had enough ‘fun’ for the night.” The girl laughed dryly. “I’m gonna head out. Thank you again, Frank. It was nice meeting you Fliss. You’ve got quite a guy." 

Fliss looked at Frank whose cheeks had flushed slightly and she nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I do. Take care.”

They stood watching her leave before Fliss turned to Frank, her hands sliding up his chest “Like a regular real life Captain America ain’t you? Standing up for the little guy.”

Frank rolled his eyes “Your Marvel obsession is ridiculous.”

She shrugged as he dropped a kiss to her lips before they headed back over to join their friends.

***** An hour or so later Fliss was ready to go home, her feet hurt, her boobs hurt and she was quite drunk. She leaned over to Frank who was sat next to her, her hand curling round his thigh and he turned to her.

“You ok sweetheart?”

“No, I mean yeah, I mean…” she sighed “I’m ready to go home, do you mind?” “Course not.” He smiled, giving a little chuckle “I’ll get us an Uber ok?”

He reached for his phone, ordered the car and to Fliss’ relief there was one literally round the corner. They stood up, bid their friends good night sharing a few hugs and the like before Frank looped an arm round Fliss’ shoulders, hers slinking around his waist as they walked slowly out of the bar. Frank could tell she was a little unsteady on her feet and he smiled to himself, pleased she’d let go enough to enjoy herself.

Carefully he made sure she got down the steps ok and they walked along the little path that led down to the front of the small row of beach bars that Ferg’s was at the end of. As they emerged onto the road area, waiting for their cab Frank heard a shout.

“Oi!”

He wheeled round and saw the asshole from the bar, Jeff, stumbling towards him as his friends hastily followed, shouting at him to leave it alone.

“Fuck.” Frank mumbled, “Fliss, move honey, quick.” She looked up at him, then to the guy approaching, and he felt her tense. He stepped forward, his arm stretched out to the side, ready to push her behind him but in a flash she ducked under it and before he could stop her she’d raised her fist and smashed it straight into the approaching guy’s face. Her punch connected with a satisfying crack and he dropped like a stone to the floor, clutching his nose which was billowing blood.

His friends appeared once more, apologising profoundly as they hoisted him to his feet, he was groaning and clutching at his face, as they led him away.

“Lissy!” Frank’s voice was a mixture of shock and awe as she turned to him, shaking out her fist.

“Sorry, oh my God that was so bad!” She mumbled, “Was that bad? Are you angry?”

“Angry?” He looked at her, shaking his head “No. Why would- what- where the fuck did you learn to punch like that?”

“Steve.” She shrugged “Haven’t done it in a while.”

Frank blinked as their Uber pulled up and she made her way towards it. He shook himself out of his shocked stance and strode forward, opening the car door for her. He stopped it halfway, causing her to look at him and he dropped his head, his lips brushing her ear. “Baby, I just want you to know that I’m all sorts of turned on right now.”

She looked up at him and her lips quirked up at the side into a cheeky grin. “Best hope this guy doesn’t take the long way home then.” Frank gave a little growl as she leaned up and pressed her lips to his. He opened the door fully, to allow her to climb into the back seat, before he hastily followed her in. As the driver set off, Frank leaned forward between the front seats, which wasn’t exactly easy given the bulge in the front of his jeans and he nodded to the driver.

“Extra 5 bucks in it for you pal, if you make it quick…”

**** Chapter 16 Part 1

#frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic #chris evans #chris evans characters

[exauhstedsunflower]

So, I’m writing Marvel now…

The thing is, Marvel is a special interest for me. Has been for a long time. The MCU while it has its downsides (I will never forgive them for what they did to Steve Rogers.) is one of my favorite movie franchises of all time. It’s a crime that I haven’t written any fics for it yet, honestly.

This isn’t nearly finished, and I have no idea when it will be or how long it’ll be. It doesn’t even have a name or full plan yet. But it’s a fun project for me. I want to explore the fact that Captain America is from the 40’s, however when he wakes up he is still in his twenties. He’s technically the youngest on the team while simultaneously being way older and being treated as way older than everyone around him. It picks up during the first Avengers film and is written from Tony’s POV. (Again, so far. It’s not done and I could still switch POV’s every once in a while.)

All that being said, enjoy!

Steve hates him. He hates Tony. Tony Stark. Son of his old friend, Howard Stark.

The old bastard was right, isn’t that just ironic.

Endless fights over Tony being a disappointment. Being nothing like the Greatest Man Howard Ever Knew. Howard never shut up about the great Captain America, so of course Tony knew this was coming.

Tony had tried when he was younger, he did. He’d tried to be better, braver, stronger, faster, witty in a way Howard would appreciate. But after a while he’d realized that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he’d never live up to what Howard wanted from him. Howard said daily that Captain America, Steve Rogers, would be disgusted by Tony. And Tony had just about recently decided that he was moving on from all of his daddy issues and metaphorically telling Howard to shove his criticisms very far up his ass. And, isn’t this just the kicker, Steve Rogers is right in front of him confirming it all.

“Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Exactly what everyone thinks I am, obviously.

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

What? He’s not about to make it easy on Captain America of all people. If anyone can handle his sass, it’s the so called bravest man who ever lived.

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. Yeah, I've seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You're not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.”

Wow, okay. He’s really laying it on, isn't he? He must be really pissed. In all honesty, Tony hadn’t thought it would be so easy to get to him. Or, rather, to get him to a point where he’s actually making personal, cutting blows.

Still, Tony doesn’t want to cause an actual fight. If he wanted that he’d have started off a little more strong, like how Rogers is. What with all the steam coming from his ears. Howard hadn’t mentioned the potentially problematic short fuse in all his ramblings. Whatever, just keep deflecting and find a way to defuse, then. He’s been around long enough to know when the right time to fight is. Currently they have a volatile, murderous psychopath who obviously wants them all fighting on board, so now is not a good time.

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

There, nice and simple. There’s no way Mr. Short Fuse can turn that into-

“Always a way out... You know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

Now he’s done it. He’s honestly tempted to say ‘Or what?’. Just curiosity speaking, what would Rogers do? And, another thing, Tony has never claimed to be a hero. Sure, he’s saved a few people, and yeah, he’s trying to save the world currently, but the hero label was all but thrown at him the moment he came out to the world as Iron Man. He doesn’t want to be a hero, all he wants right now is for Rogers to get off his damn high horse.

“A hero? Like you? You're a lab rat, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle!”

He hadn’t meant to say that. Truly, he hadn’t. He’s supposed to be actively diffusing the situation. But honestly it was an achievement he’d gone that long without actually retaliating. You can only push a man so far-

“Put on the suit, let's go a few rounds.”

He’s not succeeding in his endeavor to not fight Captain America. His dad is likely screeching from his penthouse in hell.

He moves away from Rogers just in time for the locator to go off, signifying that they’ve found what they were looking for. This is followed by an argument about who is going to get it, a rather horrifying revelation that his new best friend besides Rhodey, Pepper and Happy, (Yes, he has claimed this already, he just has to convince Bruce.) has tried to kill himself, and then suddenly Captain America is trying to fight him, again.

“Put on the suit, let’s find out!”

“I’m not afraid to hit an old man.” He replies calmly, though a little heated.

It’s just oh so ironic, (This whole conversation has been filled to the brim with irony.) that as Tony says that he laments how immature they’re acting. Seriously, the guy’s in his nineties, why is he pulling Tony into this? The irony strikes him then and there, as he’s watching Rogers get all riled up. Captain America is practically a kid.

It’s kind of funny to think about. Captain America, the man out of time, he’s only in his twenties. Tony is twenty years older than him, mentally. Now it’s not about fighting his fathers old friend. It’s not even about the fact that this is Captain America, and how anti-patriotic it would be to deck him.

No, Tony wont fight a twenty-something year old. It’s not dignified. It wouldn’t even be fair. Rogers hasn’t had the time to fully develop patience like Tony has. His brain hasn’t aged just as his body hasn’t. No wonder he has such a short fuse, Tony was the same way when he was young.

Something explodes while his brain is having this revelation, and he realizes that this is an attack. Good thing they weren’t fighting each other, then.

Steve helps him up after they’re both thrown across the room from the blast.

“Put on the suit.”

Tony nods, finally agreeing with the man on something.

“Yep.”

-

Of course they would end up working together to fix the turbine. That’s the way the world works. Rogers hates Tony, and Tony won’t fight him, which seems to be making Rogers more angry. But now all of that has to be put aside for the greater good. Hopefully they’ll be able to do this before another turbine goes down and the whole boat falls from the sky.

“What’s it look like in there?”

Tony really needs this to go well. Surely Rogers can’t be too inept with technology. He’s young, young people are the future of technology! He even understood the Wizard of Oz reference earlier, so he’s sort of up to date, right?

“It seems to run on some form of electricity!”

So much for his optimism. Despite the feeling that this is going to end horribly, his mouth quirks a bit. That’s why it had taken him so long to put together how young Rogers actually is.

Still, this has to be tough for the guy, he’s clearly out of his depth here and is trying to help.

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

He teaches Rogers how to fix the relays, which takes some time given that he can’t personally guide the project. He’s a bit busy clearing the debris from the turbine and trying to keep up with the flying boat’s speed enough to stay beside it. You would think they’d stop moving so he can just hover and do repairs, but no! Although he does suppose that there is quite a bit of commotion happening inside too. Enough to warrant not slowing down, maybe.

“Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won't re-engage without a jump. I'm gonna have to get in there and push.”

“Well if that thing gets up to speed, you'll get shredded!”

Aw, he’s worried. Asshole.

Does this count as laying on the wire? Is this technically superhero-ing right now? Is this enough to prove to Rogers he has the right intentions? He hopes so.

“Then stay in the control unit and reverse polarity long enough to disengage mag-“

“Speak! English!”

Tony nearly laughs. He hadn’t realized how charming Rogers actually is, underneath all of the high and mighty hero stuff.

“Unless, Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect”.

“Well, if he could do that he could achieve Heavy Ion Fusion at any reactor on the planet.” Bruce responds, understanding every word. Oh, Tony might just be in love.

“Finally, someone who speaks English.”

“Is that what just happened?”

It was a sly little comment, but it was there. He should have picked up on it at the time. Captain Rogers is funny.

“See that red lever? It'll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out. Stand by it, wait for my word.”

He watches the man jump over to the lever, landing a little too close to the edge for comfort. Then instead of dwelling on the fact that he was concerned for Captain America’s safety, he goes into the turbine and starts to push.

While he’s pushing, there’s some gunfire. Also some rushing coming from Director Fury in his earpiece. He wonders if anyone has come out to help Rogers, and then realizes that obviously Rogers can handle himself, so why would anyone? Eventually the turbine feels like it's moving faster than him, so it’s time to get out.

“Cap, I need the lever!”

“I need a minute here!”

Uh oh. That won’t do at all.

“Lever! Now!”

This is so not how he wanted this to go. He falls into a rotor, and slides down into the bottom part of the turbine. He is so screwed. He’s going to break his spine, or his neck. He’s going to die fixing a boat engine. Engine’s are his bitch, he can’t die fixing an engine!

Suddenly the rotors let up, and it only takes Tony a split second to fly out and assess his damage. His suit’s going to give out on him. Any second now surely. He should get out of the air-

Loki’s men are on Rogers with guns, how is that a fair fight?

At least, that’s what he thinks before he tackles one and takes them right through the side of the boat with him, finally hitting the ground and letting the suit turn off.

He can’t quite see anymore, and he can’t quite tell if it's the suit or his eyes that are damaged. He was knocked around quite a bit. Maybe it’s a concussion? He hopes it’s temporary, he can’t work if he’s blind.

Actually, scratch that. That sounds ableist. It also sounds like he’s doubting himself, which he’d never do. He very much can work if he’s blind. Plenty of people do it every day.

He feels tired, a bit hazy. He’d been knocked around maybe too much. Is Steve okay? He looks up, and the captain is jumping back into the ship. Good.

Definitely a concussion, he thinks, letting his head fall back and passing out.

-

Coulson died. Loki killed him.

Tony hasn’t been on this boat for too long now, but he’s starting to think this is a suicide mission. Agent Coulson was Pepper’s friend; how’s he going to tell her? How will the news reach the cellist he was involved with?

“There was an idea, Stark knows this, called The Avengers Initiative-”

He hasn’t been listening, and was honestly okay with the numb indifference of his thoughts. Anything not to hear Fury’s words. Lies, honestly. There’s no excuse for the arsenal that was being built, regardless of if Fury hadn’t bet on it in the first place. And now- what? He wants to use Tony and the others as the replacement arsenal? They can’t even save one agent, let alone the world.

“…to fight the battles that we never could. Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes.”

Tony stands, unable to hear anymore of this. Tony’s no hero. If Coulson was smarter, he never would have believed in heroes in the first place.

-

“Was he married?”

He looks at Rogers, at his attempt at starting a tough conversation. He sees why everyone likes the guy, really. Even after their almost-fight he comes to attempt to comfort Tony. Tony, for his part, isn’t even sure why he’s taking Coulson’s death so hard. It’s not like they were friends.

He just- well, it feels like this death is on him.

“No. There was a uh...cellist, I think.”

There’s no one to inform about his death. No one to send condolence flowers to. Pepper might mourn, his coworkers may also. The cellist… well, she won't be able to pick up their fling again.

.

“I'm sorry. He seemed like a good man.”

Steve Rogers has a good heart. He may be quick tempered, but he has a good heart.

“He was an idiot.”

“Why? For believing?”

For believing in them. Believing in this stupid, sorry excuse for a team.

“For taking on Loki alone.”

“He was doing his job.”

Oh, yes, defend the dead guy. Make this argument harder. It was easier to hate Rogers earlier, when he was being irrational.

It circles back to there not always being a way out, and Tony thinks that’s bullshit. He doesn’t take well to being told things are impossible or unavoidable. If something isn’t going to work, he makes it work. Coulson should have thought ahead. He should have waited. He should have-

Better not go down that avenue.

He starts to walk away, and Rogers compares them to soldiers. Right, that makes sense. That’s why Rogers took the death so calmly. He was a soldier in a war. He’s used to losing people and having to move forward immediately. He probably has already figured out how not to blame himself for every death he’s ever witnessed.

“Right now we've got to put that aside and get this done. Now Loki needs a power source, if we can put together a list…”

Tony briefly wonders if it's healthy to compartmentalize like that. It can’t be. But then he spots the blood on the wall and his brain moves on to another thought. Rogers is right, anyway. They need to focus.

“He made it personal.”

“That’s not the point.” Rogers replies, not catching the point just yet.

“That is the point. That's Loki's point. He hit us all right where we live. Why?” He needs to explain. The man will get it if he explains. Sometimes he forgets that not everyone’s brain does the jumps his own does.

“To tear us apart.”

“Yes! Divide and conquer is great, but he knows he has to take us

out to -

win, right? That's what he wants. He wants to beat us and he wants to be seen doing it. He wants an audience.”

“Right,” He’s catching on, thankfully. “I caught his act at Stuttengart.”

“Yeah. That's just previews, this is opening night. Loki's a full-tail diva. He wants flowers, he wants parades, he wants a monument built in the skies with his name plastered…” Tony stops, revelation forming. Steve looks fully interested in wherever this is going.

“Son of a bitch!”

“What?”

“Big ugly building in New York!”

Rogers’ eyes go wide, “Let's go.” He orders, Tony already moving.

-

The battle was terrifying. There were aliens, gigantic half mechanical half flesh monsters flying around, and a murderous Norse god intent on taking control of the chaos and coming out on top. Tony wonders why NASA or SHEILD has never claimed to have seen the species this army is made up of before. These guys don’t seem very low key, what with all the planetary destruction. He doesn’t believe for a second that no one knew these things were out there.

He makes a mental note to hack the department of defense after he’s eaten his shawarma.

Tony never prepared for this. The only people who were even remotely prepared tried to nuke New York. And then Tony the not-hero, thank you very much, had to fix that problem on top of the other very pressing one. The other problem being aliens. Aliens invading the earth.

Aliens, Jesus Christ.

Afterwards, Loki gets taken to Asgard with Thor via Beam Of Light™️. Fury says the Avengers are all free to go. But Tony does extend the offer for the others to stay at the tower. They can if they need to, not forever or anything. But, if they want to stick around and help clean up the mess. Someone’s gotta, you know?

Romanoff took the offer. Then Bruce because he wants access to a lab like Tony can offer and totally not because he’s excited about their new friendship. Then Clint, who would like to stay close to SHEILD; then begrudgingly, Steve Rogers, who admits that he can’t quite afford life in New York City but would like to stay here. And suddenly the Avengers are piling into Tony’s penthouse, exhausted but still helping get rid of all the broken glass.

He goes to his lab as soon as sleeping situations are settled. (Natasha takes a guest room, Bruce gets another one, Clint and Rogers take the living room.) There’s no need to stick around. The superhero’s crashing in his guest rooms and living room are cleaned and fed, New York is saved (and subsequently the world.). Besides, he needs to start working on better living arrangements if these guys are going to stay. He gets half way through Natasha’s layout for her floor, when Jarvis lowers his music.

“What gives? I was just getting into a groove here!”

“It seems you have a visitor, sir.”

His head whips around, expecting Pepper, but instead he finds Steve Rogers standing on the outside of the glass door looking like a lost puppy in designer hand-me-down sweatpants. Tony sighs, Pepper won't be in until tomorrow. He’d had to do a lot of bribing to get the New York Airport to let his jet land. They have to clear some debris from the runway, fix some of the landing gear, that stuff.

“Shall I let him in, sir?”

“What? Yeah, yeah. Yes. Let the captain in, open the door.”

The door unlocks, allowing Rogers to step into the lab. He looks around in wonder, the exhaustion from the day being covered by the inquisitive nature of humans.

“What’s up, Cap?”

Rogers startles, having gotten distracted by the tech in the room. Then hesitantly, he speaks up.

“This place is really swell, Tony.”

He sounds like he means it so genuinely that Tony doesn’t make a remark about the outdated word choice.

“Well, it’s no flying boat, but it’s home. Speaking of, you’ll love this. Dum-e! C’mere boy!”

If Rogers looked amazed before, he looks absolutely awestruck now.

“Did you make him?” He questions as he reaches out to pet the robot. Dum-E nuzzles his hand and Tony smiles a bit at the sight.

“Yeah. Made Jarvis too, right J?”

“Yes, sir.” Rogers jumps at the sound of Jarvis’ disembodied voice.

“See? They get along too well though. They’ll surpass their old man one day. Too much plotting happening while I’m gone.”

Rogers laughs, “See, now, I would have thought you'd be all for the minds of the future.” He comments sarcastically.

“And usually I’d agree, but I don’t think I’d be happy if the new robot overlord was Dum-E. And hearing you, a twenty-something year old, tell me that the flying boat engine ‘runs on some kind of electricity’, settled it for me. I have no faith in the future of technology.”

The other man snorts, “I’m not exactly a prime example of the youth, man.”

Tony puts up a finger, “Ah, see, I’d believe you if you didn’t just call me ‘man’. I’m gonna start calling you kid.”

Rogers rolls his eyes, ignoring how that prompted a mock scolding on rolling his eyes at his elders. He then sees the current work in progress on Tony’s work space.

“Is this what you’ve been doing down here?”

Tony’s eyes follow Rogers as he walks over to the plans and starts reading them over.

“This is so nice. There’s a floor for each of the Avengers in here! Even Thor and I!”

“Yes, God’s need sleep too. At least I think they do. I’ll have to ask, actually. -And, also, why wouldn’t you have one?”

Tony watches the man's eyes widen as if being caught saying something he hadn’t meant to say out loud. Although as soon as the look of panic shows it’s gone, Rogers turns to hide himself in the plans again.

“Look, I know we didn’t start off on the right foot.” He starts, quieter than before.

Is… is Rogers attempting a reconciliation right now? Tony thinks back to all the thoughts he had earlier, where Howard may have had a fit. And how fitting he thought it was that Captain America hated him, although he wasn’t entirely happy about it. But this might be worse, actually.

“I believe you were being beaten up when we met, actually. And then I swooped in and saved you.”

Rogers immediately regains his volume, “Swooped in and saved me doesn’t sound entirely right.”

“This. Coming from the guy who still calls things swell? I think I’ll keep my phrasing.”

“I had him! You can't save someone who is in control of the situation!”

“You call being beaten up being in control? Please elaborate.”

“I was not getting beat up. I was holding my own.”

“Sure, kid. Is that a bruise?”

Rogers immediately starts feeling around his face. This is hilarious for a number of reasons. One, he has super healing and any bruise would have been gone by now. Two, Captain America looks far more worried about a bruise on his perfect face than when he was saving the world.

“Where?”

“Right- yeah, right there. Where Loki absolutely had the upper hand!”

That comment startles the older/younger man into stunned laughter.

And thats all I’ve got!! Thank you if you made it this far.

#Marvel #marvel mcu #tony stark #steve rogers #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #Avengers #marvel’s the avengers #bruce banner #hulk #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #Thor #loki #clint barton #hawkeye

[maluminspace]

This is all because of you! and you make me feel so small with Calum please.

A37 “This is all because of you!”

A22 “you make me feel so small”

You’d always promised yourself you’d never let anyone reduce you to this. Somehow, though, Calum fucking Hood had managed it.

No one had ever meant enough to you, before, that a simple jealous argument would cause you to try and drown your sorrows in a bottle of cheap vodka.

Calum had stormed out hours ago. He hadn’t called or text you since he’d sped off in his beloved sports car. You know he’s probably just crying to Michael or Ashton about what a nightmare you are but it infuriates you nonetheless.

The last swig of vodka you down burns your throat, making you wince but your pour another measure anyway. Some of the alcohol sloshes onto the coffee table as your aim becomes clumsy. It’s a clear sign that you shouldn’t drink anymore but you’re hoping it’ll help you pass out soon so you don’t have to sit here crying over Calum for the rest of the night.

Wanting your boyfriend to come home has barely resurfaced at the front of your mind when the sound of crunching gravel on driveway draws your attention. A few seconds later a car door slams and footsteps make their way towards your front door.

As much as part of you wants to jump on Calum and apologise while he wraps you in a tight hug, the rest of you kind of wishes you’d put the chain on the front door so he can’t get back in.

When your boyfriend slopes into the hallway closing the door behind him, he immediately turns towards you. Calum must have noticed that the lights were still on in the living area when he’d pulled into the driveway.

“Didn’t expect to see you back here tonight.” You slur, scoffing in an attempt to seem uncaring.

“Yeah?” He asks, looking far too tired to be mad anymore. “Well I didn’t fancy sleeping on Ashton’s sofa so...”

You let out a humourless laugh. “I knew you’d you go crying to your boyfriend about this.”

Calum shakes his head, toeing off his converse before padding across the living room towards you. His eyes linger for a moment on the half empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. When his usually soft brown eyes finally meet yours they betray the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

“Are you drunk?” He asks incredulously.

You shrug as you down the glass of vodka you’d poured just a few moments ago. It doesn’t sting your throat as much as the last time. “What do you care?”

Calum rolls his eyes, an angry blush rising in his cheeks. “Of course I fucking care!” He replies, the effort he’s using to keep his voice steady is painfully evident in his tone. “If I didn’t care I wouldn’t have come back in the first place.”

“Whatever...” you scoff, picking up the bottle again.

“Seriously?” Calum asks, the exhaustion written all over his face as well seeping into his voice. “Are you gonna just keep drinking until you throw up everywhere? Is that your plan?”

There’s still a part of you that wants to resolve this argument and just go to bed. It’s tiny voice is given strength by the pleading in Calum’s eyes as he watches you slosh more vodka into the glass in your hand and into your lap. “‘M not planing on the puking part...” you reply, trying to keep the fire of your anger alive over the desire to just apologise.

“Well that’s where your heading!” Calum insists, “and I’ll end up having to clean that mess up too, like everything else you fucking touch!”

You drain your glass and slam it down on the table along with the bottle. “I’ve never asked you to clean up my messes!” You retort, “I’m a fucking adult, capable of sorting out my own shit!”

Calum rolls his eyes impatiently. “Yeah, it looks like it.” He snaps back, gesturing sarcastically at the items you’d just returned to the table. “You’re really acting like someone who has their fucking shit together, aren’t you? I leave for a few hours and come back to this...”

Your irritated boyfriend gestures a little too hard and knocks the half empty bottle of alcohol onto the floor. It smashes into several pieces, its contents seeping over the wooden flooring.

“Well done, Calum!” You snap, “you’re such a fucking idiot.”

Instead of sniping back at you as you expect, Calum simply leaves the room. He returns a moment later with with a roll of paper towels and a bin bag. Without so much as a glance in your direction, he drops to his knees next to the puddle of vodka and broken glass.

Your drunken brain finds it hard to comprehend why Calum’s suddenly gone all quiet. For some reason it makes you angrier as you drop down next to him. “Don’t ignore me, Calum!” You command, keeping your bleary eyes on him as he carefully wraps the broken glass on a few layers of the paper towels. “You’ve already done that enough, tonight!”

You can tell that Calum is annoyed by your words but he continues to concentrate on wrapping up the dangerous shards of the broken bottle.

“Do I really mean that fucking little to you?” You demand, your tone of voice betraying just how disgruntled you are by Calum’s lack of communication.

Your words seem to strike a nerve with your boyfriend as he snaps his face towards you, his brown eyes filled with the sad sort of anger that would usually break your heart.

Unable to tear your gaze away from Calum’s, you’re fully expecting a barrage of vexed words but all that escapes him is a pained yelp.

You glance down to see a trickle of blood running down from the pad of one of his fingers. For a split second you forget your anger, feeling only concern for the love of your life. You instinctively reach out to him but he immediately shies away. “Leave me alone.” He mutters, struggling to his feet. “This is all because of you!”

And just like that your anger is back. You watch through narrowed eyes as Calum strides off towards the kitchen.

It takes you much longer than it should to struggle to your feet. That’s probably unsurprising, given your inebriated state, but it’s still frustrating. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, stumbling after your boyfriend.

Calum doesn’t reply. He simply turns on the cold water tap and holds his bloody finger under it. The way he winces in pain kind of makes you want to hug him but your drunken brain reminds you that your still pretty angry with him. “Are you ever going to answer me?”

Your boyfriend finally turns to face you. There are tears brimming in his beautiful eyes, you’re not sure if they’re a result of his pain or frustration but either way it hurts to see him like this.

“I can’t do this with you now.” Calum concedes. “Please can we just talk in the morning?”

You shake your head, stepping a little closer to your boyfriend. “I didn’t wait up all night just to go bed without resolving it anyway.”

Calum scoffs impatiently. “Yeah getting shit-faced was a great way of showing me you want to work this out.”

Even in your drunken state, you know Calum has a point and you feel the shadow of something like embarrassment or shame. “Well I had to do something when you just ran out on me!”

Calum turns off the tap and steps over to the draw where you keep your little first aid kit. “I left because you hurt my feelings.” He confesses. “I know I’ve been distant lately, but you didn’t have to say the things you said.”

Sober you would have agreed with him in an instant. Perhaps you had actually been a little harsh earlier. Drunk you is still angry, though. “I don’t know what I’m meant to think, Calum!” You argue. “You’ve been sneaking around, acting shifty and nervous all the time...”

Calum grimaces again as he places a plaster over the cut on his finger. You’re not entirely sure it’s the tiny injury that causes the physical reaction, though. “I’m not cheating on you.” He sighs, exhausted and obviously just done with this whole argument. “I could never...”

The sincerity of Calum’s words almost seeps through your inebriated brain... Almost. “Then give me an explanation, Calum!” Bursts from your mouth as you sway on the spot.

“Not now.” Calum replies, his voice quiet. “Not when you’re drunk.” He insists. “Not when you make me feel so small, like this!”

Your boyfriend’s last sentence kind of hurts but you manage to stop yourself from uttering a venomous reply by literally biting your tongue between your back teeth.

Calum doesn’t say anything else as he returns the little first aid kit to its drawer before heading back into the living room.

You follow him, but only to the doorway. Your brain is slow to think of a reply other than ‘I’m sorry’ and you’re not quite ready for that yet.

As Calum cleans up the rest of the broken bottle and mops up the spilt vodka, you find yourself absently watching him. Just as you open your mouth to demand an answer, something falls out of the pocket of Calum’s leather jacket. The tiny item turns out to be a black velvet box. Initially you’re a bit confused. It’s only when Calum opens the little lid, that you realise there’s an engagement ring hidden inside.

Suddenly everything makes perfect sense, even in your alcohol soaked brain. Calum’s been distant and shifty lately because he’s been nervous to ask you marry him.

All of your anger and suspicion suddenly melt away, leaving a knot of guilt in its place. You want to run over to Calum and apologise for being so oblivious and tell him how stupid you feel for ever thinking he could be unfaithful.

Before you can do any of that, though, your boyfriend closes the box and shoves it back into his pocket. He wipes a tear from his face as he throws the last vodka-soaked paper towels into the bin bag and carries it outside.

As much as you want to tell Calum that you know the real reason why he’s been acting so strange, you know that he was completely right about now being entirely the wrong time to talk about ‘the truth’.

Instead of giving things away, you decide that you’ll act surprised when he finally asks you. He at least deserves that moment of knowing that he’s chosen the exact right way and moment to ask you.

In the mean time, you’ll stop being so paranoid and start making him feel like the amazing person he is. Starting with an apology as soon as he walks back into the house.

Masterlist

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood burb #calum hood fic #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #5sos fic #calum imagine #calum blurb #calum fic #angsty!calum #my writing #200 dialogue quotes #tw: alcohol

[huronnade-moved]

       He awoke to the dull ring of his telephone, as he often did.  After fumbling uselessly in the dark for several seconds, the Sheriff sat up with a grunt and brought the receiver to his ear.

       ❛❛ Hello? ❜❜        ❛❛ Sheriff, we have a… situation. ❜❜        ❛❛ Talk t’me. ❜❜

       He listened with growing impatience as his coworker stammered for several seconds, the sound of the telephone wire being coiled nervously around his finger causing an unpleasant crackle of static before he released the pressure once more.  After several seconds:   ❛❛ There’s a lady here.  Stumbled into the station covered in blood.  Said she’d only talk t’you. ❜❜

       ❛❛ I’ll be down. ❜❜        ❛❛ She said the phone works if y’wanna speak with her immediately. ❜❜

       He paused to think for a moment.  Something told him to take the offer before she could elude him.  For some reason, he trusted a faceless woman’s sincerity over the phone more than he did in person.  Perhaps seeing him would cause her to retract, fold back into her reclusive little shell like a snail, and they’d be there all night trying to fish answers out of her.  Kuro had always been one for brevity, even at the expense of tastefulness.

       ❛❛ I’ll talk t’her. ❜❜

       At this point, his wife was stirring, mumbling incoherently and shuffling in her spot beside him.  Though he couldn’t do much about the noise, he did his best to lower his voice somewhat. He honed in on the sound of the phone being pulled along, cord dragging across the wooden floor before the bulky device was sat in what he could only assume was the woman’s lap.  He listened to her breathe quietly for a few seconds before she spoke words that appeared to him only in nightmares, her voice monotone and dull.  Slowly, Kuro sat up more, turning on the light, reaching for the notepad he always left on his bedside table.

       ❛❛ Could y’verify that, ma’am?  Y’said you… stabbed yer two children ‘n’ then        yerself? ❜❜        ❛❛ Yes, sir. ❜❜

       At this point, Deeana had risen, was staring at him like a cat caught in a neighbour’s backyard.  He barely glanced at her, clicking his pen and beginning to scribble.  His calligraphy had always been blocky but neat, succinct capitals steadily filling the lines as he jotted down tirelessly.

       ❛❛ ‘n’ yer in the station now? ❜❜        ❛❛ Yes, sir. ❜❜        ❛❛ Okay.  Where’re yer children? ❜❜

       There was an eerie pause before she answered him this time, the silence punctuated with something that was almost grief before she continued:   ❛❛ In their bedroom.  On the floor.  With their favourite stuffies. ❜❜

       ❛❛ ... dead? ❜❜        ❛❛ Dead, sir. ❜❜

       How coldly she addressed the whole thing was seriously beginning to give him the creeps.  A veteran officer he may be--  a veteran Sheriff at this point, one could argue--  but he’d never become immune to the merciless nature of psychopaths.  He could uncover every sick mind in The Great Unknown, could explore every nook and cranny of everybody’s brains, and he’d still be left with the daunting feeling of horror whenever he came face to face with darkness.

       ❛❛ Okay…  where did y’stab yerself? ❜❜        ❛❛ In the neck, sir. ❜❜

       ❛❛ Okay, are you... ❜❜   He paused for a moment, the word feeling blocky and foolish sitting on the tip of his tongue.      ❛❛ … bleeding? ❜❜   It felt fit to ask despite its supposed obviousness.  She’d managed to stumble from Raku-knows-where into the station while apparently sporting this abrasion.  Perhaps she hadn’t thought to do it hard enough;  or perhaps, just maybe, she’d become scared and been unable to execute herself despite her desire to.  People often did, even if they felt they deserved it.  He himself had struggled with the idea of throwing himself off of a bridge despite his ache to be free of the life he’d hurriedly glued together.

       ❛❛ There’s blood everywhere…  one of your officers is tryin’ to stop it.  ❜❜        ❛❛ D’y’feel faint, ma’am? ❜❜        ❛❛ A little, sir. ❜❜

       ❛❛ Mmkay.  I’m certain a paramedic will be with y’shortly.  Do listen t’any instructions. ❜❜   Already clambering out of bed, he dragged the receiver along with him as he began to get dressed for work.  A brief glance at the clock told him it was a little after three in the morning, and a glance out of the window told him that it was much too early, yet all too late, to be having this kind of conversation.  As he dragged his pants over his legs, belt secured steadily in place, he fished in his dresser for a shirt and continued to talk.   ❛❛ Can I keep you? ❜❜

       ❛❛ Yes, sir. ❜❜

       As he began to tug his shirt over his outstretched arms, phone pressed between his shoulder and ear,  Kuro threaded the buttons through their respective holes whilst continuing to question her.  Keep her talking, he thought, it’ll keep her awake.  What is your address?  Do you still have the murder weapon in your possession?  (  what the fuck is wrong with you?  )

       ❛❛ What’s yer name, miss? ❜❜

       There was a brief silence on the other end, as if she had suddenly become reluctant to speak further.  Then:   ❛❛ Oswald.  Hana Oswald. ❜❜

       Kuro felt his stomach turn briefly.    For just a moment, he recalled the case a terrified husband had made against his wife under the same name a couple of decades ago.  Sheriff, you’ve gotta help me--  the police in Vide ain’t listening to me.  This woman, she’s NUTS, she’s threatening to kill me if I talk about leaving her.  /  ‘m afraid this ain’t my jurisdiction, sir. Y’should file fer a restrainin’ order with yer respective taskforce.  /  Oh God…  they won’t help me.  /  Try again.  If they refuse t’file yer case this time, come back here.  I’ll assist you.

       But Mr.Oswald hadn’t returned.  In fact, when Kuro had sought him out while working on Vide soil, asking him if he still needed help, the man had replied with a firm no.  With all that being said and done, Kuro had assumed that the couple had worked out their differences;  that the hysterical husband had calmed down and was now able to take her hyperbole for what it was: distasteful exaggeration.

       ❛❛ … Hana.  Are you, or were you, married to a man by the name’a Jaspar Oswald? ❜❜        ❛❛ He’s my husband. ❜❜        ❛❛ ‘n’ where is he? ❜❜

       The spooky quiet that settled between them made his blood turn to ice.  Even before she had uttered a word, a bad feeling was beginning to seep into his gut, poisoning his steady work ethic until he felt fit to collapse back into bed.  Sometimes, the chilling brutality of criminal passion was enough to bring even the most steadfast of efforts to a grinding halt.

       ❛❛ He left me. ❜❜

       Even before she carried on, the pieces slotted into place for him.  With a reserved frown on his face, Kuro straightened his collar with a grim tug, as if tying a noose rather than dressing himself.

       ❛❛ So y’killed his children.  T’get him t’come home. ❜❜

       ❛❛ … yes.  Sir.  And after doin’ it, I came here, because he mentioned that the police here were different, that he was goin’ to take his ‘’case’’ to Huron.  I wanted to see the task-force that had the gall to impose on my life with my own eyes. ���❜   Her voice was different now, consumed by anger;  his title uttered with only the strictest of poison.  Though they had never met, Kuro was certain she reserved only the most toxic of hatreds for him.  She seemed to hold her tongue for a few moments before continuing, and the more she went on, the further unhinged she revealed herself to be.   ❛❛ He said he wanted a divorce.  How can that be?  We had the perfect life together.  Two beautiful children.  A nice house.  We both had steady, well-paying jobs.  How could he just throw that away?  Jaspar’s always struggled with… selfish tendencies.  Sometimes the only way to appeal to his good side is to do somethin’ drastic.  You understand that, right?  Sheriff?  I was just tryin’ to get him to see that he’s bein’ foolish, throwin’ this perfect life with me away.  The grief of losin’ our kids will bring us closer together.  He’ll understand. ❜❜

       ❛❛ Why did he wanna divorce y’? ❜❜   He didn’t care;  he’d want a divorce too at this rate, but keeping her talking was in his best interest.  He listened as her breathing became deeper, as if brutally wounded.   ❛❛ Ma’am--  Hana.  Please stay calm.  Talk t’me. ❜❜

       She started to bawl then, and even without standing in front of her, Kuro  could tell that the grief was only spared for herself.  There was nothing remorseful about that methodical meltdown--  only rue, filled to the brim with self-righteous fury, her noises reminiscent of a mental patient after escaping their unfair captivity;  primal and ruthless and devoid of guilt.  The Sheriff stood there listening, and at one point he felt the distinct teeter of his shadow leaning closer, as if feeding on the sorrowful noise.

       He heard a clatter then, harsh enough to have him flinch against the receiver, and the growing chaos in which he could only assume was his officers rushing to put her in handcuffs.  In the distance, the sound of someone vomiting was audible.  Me too, kid.  Me too.

       Her shrieks were becoming more distant, and even before the previous officer collected the phone, Kuro already knew what had transpired.

       ❛❛ She’s…  bein’ detained.  Dear Raku-- Sheriff, come quick, it’s all goin’ t’hell-- ❜❜

       ❛❛ Easy does it, deputy.  Y’stay put.  Stay calm, clean up, ‘n’ I’ll be down in five minutes.  Do not engage with her.  She’s severely disturbed. ❜❜

       He heard the officer mutter something to the affirmative before putting the phone down.  This was how it often was.  A disturbing phone call in the dead of night, begging for his assistance or begging for his time, and as tired as he often was as a result of it, Kuro wouldn’t have it any other way.  This was what it was to be the Sheriff of Huron.

#🞮 ��� ɪꜰ ɪ ʙᴇɴᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ﹐ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ. ❜ ( kuro / main. ) #🞮 ┋ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ sᴀᴅ sʜᴏᴡ﹐ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀɴ ᴇɢᴏ. ❜ ( kuro / ic. ) #drabbles * #/ ust a random thing about kuro handling crime wah #me: gets sick as fuck #also me: man now's a good time to try a different writing style

[perfectgirlisgone]

Gn1- Big Fat Egyptian-Greek Wedding

<p>Six years had passed since the Fearleading Squad graduated from Monster High.<br /> Frankie Stein and Ghoulia Yelps ended up at the same university. They mushed their brains together in their freshmeat year and by sophmoan year they engineered a new form of space travel. They're representing Earth as ambassadors in intergalactic councils. Clawdeen Wolf went to Londoom for school and shared rent with her wonderful big sister. She blew through classes like every night was a full moon and opened a boutique in three years. A larger company copied her ideas, she sued, won the case and has her name-brand in 300 stores around the globe. Lagoona Blue briefly joined a cult that said they'd save the ocean but it involved drowning land-creatures. She would leave the cult and go to Ascarican law school to become an defender of the environment. Also when she got out of the cult she found out Gil carried their son whom she gets to visit every other week at his freshwater-grandparents' house. Abbey thought she'd go back to her village but instead traveled with C.A. Cupid to the Greek Islands. Abbey trained with the Amazons then decided to go into advertisement. Her work was ahead of its time, Abbey was relieved to be recruited by a spy agency, err, she became a florist.<br /> Draculaura got in med school but choose to follow her real passion. She got a BA in Creature Writing from the local community college. She recently re-enrolled at Monster High. She's making new friends but stalks the gang on Skullbook.</p>

<p>Cleo DeNile went to Yell University then interned at Ptolemy Towers. She climbed up the pyramid and became Empress of Boo York City; tycoon queen and fashion icon. In celebration of her success, and since she hadn't seen her friends in months, Cleo invited her school chums to her eighty-story-penthouse, everything covered by her generous hand.</p>

<p>"Ghoulia! Getting contacts was the right way to go!" Cleo said as she hugged her beastie.</p>

<p>Ghoulia hugged tighter, "Thank you, Cleo, and thank you again for the donation towards our lighter hover-boards."</p>

<p>The mummy held up her finger, "Don't mention it, I believe in the cause."</p>

<p>"Oh my, Lagoona he's so big!" Frankie said as her sea-friend showed her baby photos on her phone. "And that thing is..."</p>

<p>Frankie motioned to the large fin on his head. Lagoona smiled, "He'll grow into that."</p>

<p>Abbey chewed on shrimp while Jinafire and Clawdeen discussed strategies for bring Jin into the public. Clawd Wolf talked about his residency at BleedingHeart hospital. Venus and Robecca talked about their vitro-fertilization journey and Iris explained how she was naming the new planet. Careers, failures, new couples, a few babies and bad haircuts; adventures were happening for the grads.</p>

<p>Cleo was chatting with Dr. Jane Boolittle as a scaly hand went to her back.</p>

<p>"Great party, Babe, did you see that new head Beatrice grew?" Deuce said, pointing to the monster across the room.</p>

<p>"Jane, the delectable dinner was provided by Deuce's restaurant. He has two Michescream Stars now." The mummy said while she put an arm around his shoulder.</p>

<p>"Cleo." Deuce whined, almost embarrassed at how she told everyone she met.</p>

<p>"Shut it, let me brag." Cleo demanded happily.</p>

<p>"Aww, and you guys are still together? The pets in the vents were right." Jane said.</p>

<p>The mummy didn't know what she meant but grinned, "I know, we're like lightning caught in a bottle. Frankie said that once about a rare good thing."</p>

<p>"I'm not exactly 'caught', Cleo." Deuce said to his long-time ghoulfriends' expanded eyes. "That needs to change."</p>

<p>Everyone turned around to see Gorgon kneel down and take Cleo's hand.</p>

<p>"Cleo DeNile, I-"</p>

<p>"Yes!" Cleo screamed.</p>

<p>Deuce blinked. "Sweet. I had some other stuff to say-"</p>

<p>"Right, go ahead, but yes!" The mummy said, feeling everyone staring at them.</p>

<p>"You know what? Here." Deuce said as he pulled the ring out Cleo snatched it immediately, slid it on her finger then went to her knees to kiss him.</p>

<p>Of course everyone cheered and clapped. The moment filled Cleo's heart to the brim. She had her planning committee/ bridal party in the same room and the love of her eternal-life in her arms. Nothing could spoil things for her now.</p>

<p>In the DeNile mansion Dedyet walked into the lightless throne-room of her husband. She lit a torch and sighed.</p>

<p>"Ramses." She said, bringing the torch to him, "It could be worse."</p>

<p>The former pharaoh grumbled.</p>

<p>"She's in love, it happens." Dedyet suggested to ease her husband's agony.</p>

<p>"How could she do this to me?" Ramses asked miserably.</p>

<p>"Oh, my shining sun, she's a rebel. All we can do now is love her despite disagreeing." Dedyet said while holding her husband's hand.</p>

<p>Cleo welcomed the million kisses from Medusa's snakes.</p>

<p>Deuce was being kiss-swarmed by his Aunt Euryale who had shaved her head but kissed with her own lips. The engaged couple were on Petros Island with the Gorgon sisters.</p>

<p>"We thought they day would never come!" Euryale said hugging her nephew.</p>

<p>"I always knew." Medusa said, hugging her future daughter-in-law.</p>

<p>"No you didn't." Euryale playfully stated.</p>

<p>"A mother knows, and honestly I would've adopted this one if Deuce hadn't let the lead out."</p>

<p>Medusa said. "Oh Maddy." Cleo said with a laugh.</p>

<p>"Let's talk about reserving Aphrodite's temple, we can't fit the whole family so I'm thinking big screens on the mountain."</p>

<p>Stheno the eldest said. "I'm thinking peonys!"</p>

<p>Euryale gasped, "And tarantula-brown dresses!"</p>

<p>"Aunt E, I don't think we-" Cleo interrupted, "I love tarantulas, Auntie. You have wonderful taste."</p>

<p>"Good girl." Euryale said, pinching Cleo's chin. The male gorgon pulled his fiance to the side.</p>

<p>"Why are you lying?"</p>

<p>"I'm pleasing the family." Cleo whispered, "Even if I have to wear taffeta."</p>

<p>Deuce took Cleo's hand, "Babe, I appreciate that but it's our day, I'm choosing the menu and you are planning everything else like you really want to."</p>

<p>The mummy squeezed his hand, "What I really want is our family, friends and loyal subj- fans to be there for us. And see us be perfect."</p>

<p>"Lovebugs, we're carving you a new table for the wedding." Stheno said with an axe in hand.</p>

<p><em>Not like I have connections to dealers from my time</em>, Cleo thought, "I would like that very much, Auntie."</p>

<p>In the Lovecraft Asylum the eldest DeNile daughter sat in the garden and soaked up the sun. One of the butterfly nurses brought Nefera her meds. Nefera kicked the meds out of the cup.</p>

<p>"Tell the monsterazzi they can eat me." Nefera said. "Fetch me a chai-tea."</p>

<p>"Well done, my daughter." Ramses said as he and his wife approached their first born.</p>

<p>"Darling, if we put your meds in something pretty would you take them?" Dedyet asked.</p>

<p>"Does 'pretty' mean diamonds and rubies at a spa?" Nefera asked.</p>

<p>"Yes." Ramses said the exact time Dedyet said, "Maybe."</p>

<p>Nefera grumbled then asked, "It's not a holiday. Why are you two here?"</p>

<p>Ramses sighed deeply, "Tragedy has struck again."</p>

<p>"Ramses," Dedyet warned, "Your sister is engaged. To the boy."</p>

<p>Nefera sneered, "And you put me in the asylum."</p>

<p>"Nefera, if we can convince Cleo to let you come to the wedding then maybe even you could stay out of Lovecraft for a while." Dedyet said.</p>

<p>"Hard pass." Nefera said, crossing her arms.</p>

<p>Nefera's father nodded, "I wish I could say the sam-"</p>

<p>Nefera's mother shot him a look and he cleared his throat. "Very well, my child, but please summon us if you change your mind."</p>

<p>"I'm not the one who needs to change!" Nefera yelled then rolled onto her shoulder to face away from her parents.</p>

<p>The mummy man wanted to give his daughter a million pyramids to see her well. His wise wife said he could not so Ramses and she wished her a fine rest of day.</p>

<p>In Cleo's perosnal work-suite in the DeNile Tower Clawdeen was fitting her long-time friends' bridesmaid dresses. They were not tarantula-brown taffeta.</p>

<p>"She threw Deuce's aunt's baby-making quilt in a whirlpool and took the planning crown back." Lagoona said while helping Clawdeen place lace roses on Abbey's dress.</p>

<p>"There's our ghoul." Clawdeen said, "Hey Jin."</p>

<p>Jinafire walked into the room with a large red egg in a carrier across her chest. "I got the Pan's choir to come to the wedding. Praise is welcomed."</p>

<p>"I thought we were going to call Operetta for the reception." Frankie said while her helping cyber-net-hands sealed envelopes.</p>

<p>"Cleo would like the choir while she walks down the aisle and around the table. Operetta is for the after party." Ghoulia said nibbling on the potential butterscream wedding cake.</p>

<p>Lagoona smiled. "A soundtrack to unlife, Cleo's a deadset."</p>

<p>"Where is she? I'm happy to work for a bride but this is familiar to when she'd leave us to do all the little stuff." Frankie said.</p>

<p>Cleo was finishing a board meeting, launching healthier products in the Ptolemy-DeNile scale-care lines."</p>

...incomplete

#monster high #cleuce #generation 1 #I like more

[themathrockblog]

FESTIVAL REVIEW: STRANGEFORMS, WHARF CHAMBERS - LEEDS 2017

Having reflexively purchased a ticket upon seeing the immense line-up for last year’s StrangeForms only to find myself unable to attend, I was thrilled to witness the incredible festival for the first time this year. And what a year it was, making up for missing last year with a wealth of friendships forged, conversations relished and most importantly, great bands enjoyed with that mixture of attentiveness and bewilderment that math-rock always brings. In the early Saturday afternoon at the charming DIY space Wharf Chambers, tepid bursts of sunlight shone into the beer garden as punters gathered in surprising numbers to hear local lads Classically Handsome Brutes open the festival. Whopping guitar riffs and thudding bass made for an unsettlingly crunchy sound; the roaring songs always featuring stop/start stabs both as impossibly hard to anticipate as they were tightly performed. Next followed Lost Ground and a subtle change of pace. The first and most delicate vocals of the festival soared over intricate guitar parts, often contrasting with emphatic bass and complimenting jazz-tinged drum work. The set was emotional and engaging, with a sound more lustrous than the sum of its three-pieced together parts.

Off to a great start! The Real Junk Food Project was serving up exquisite food on a pay as you feel basis, fine pale ales were being liberally guzzled inside a venue with the most homely and vibrant feel. An assortment of merchandise and t-shirts colourfully wallpapered the gig room as everyone gleefully quizzed each other in anticipation of their prospective favourite bands to come.

From a line-up brimming with an assortment of three piece bands, Steve Strong stuck out as a tantalising prospect of hearing noises just as full, songs just as enthralling and some of the best drumming of the weekend. Guitar loops were tightly controlled and effortlessly built upon, stripped back from the mix and thrusted in again. Each time the cacophony had found its place, it was given new life by quick and breathtakingly pinpoint percussive work. A stunning performance and a unique chance to see how carefully chosen rhythmic changes can structure a song.

Back to three pieces, this one less time-signature twisting, more groove-fronted power riffs from Memory of Elephants. A tasteful ear for melody was wrestled with as the bass and guitar interlocked with precision to create beefy math-rock at its best. The balanced instrumentation was evident, as the bass shared as many central motifs as the guitar, both musicians tightly synced as if one brain splitting into four hands, blasting sounds through two octave pedals and smashing your eardrums to pieces one spasmodic riff at a time. ‘Who The Fuck Is Runcorn?’, the closer from their second EP, was the pinnacle of the set for me as each stop-start and stab shifted focus around the stage, from ballistic drum fills to bass thuds to guitar screeches. Drums drove the songs with tasteful builds and insanely tight flourishes atop the ride cymbal. Occasional roars demonstrated just how fun it was to be upon the StrangeForms stage. 

I took brief notes for the scarily brutal performance of Fall of Messiah, but they seemed so apt ill reproduce them here verbatim: “A voice so piercing a microphone is surplus to requirement. Sounds like This Will Destroy You thrown in a blender and turned up to 11.” That really says it all, I think. My next memory - of bands, not elephants - was of the hypnotically spacey, painstakingly crafted masterpieces that are Poly-Math songs at full tilt. Perhaps VASA, who I’m assured played before Poly-Math, were so jaw-droppingly awesome that they melted the part of my brain that makes memories, for a short period of time about as long as their set. Not to worry, Poly-Math were here to rescue my fragile constitution with warmly curated prog-rock. Bass and drums interlocked, jolting and grooving freely whilst a guitar funnelled through an expansive pedalboard turned neat riffs into spacey wails. The performance was mesmerising, as hands wandered along the guitar neck as if a man strolling along a boardwalk, only to find himself alone at the end, meeting the ocean in a frantic storm, in layers of rapturous guitar and pulsating beats. Take a standard prog song, put it through a washing machine on a spin cycle and you’ve got Poly-Math at their psychedelic best.

To continue the hypnosis, Gallops took to the stage. Technical issues were overlooked as a patient and jovial crowd took the time to ready themselves, using the respite to mentally prepare for the synth-driven, danceable anthems ahead. The wait was more than worth it. Such a carefully crafted sound pits layers of guitar against layers of synth, colliding in a maelstrom of warm noise so atmospheric and so colossal that it opened up a blackhole and sent them in a time warp back to the 80’s, picking up a few cues from synthpop along the way. Gallops make something like ‘tropical math-rock’, with drum pads crunching out over real drums, battled with and battered in the most rhythmic and danceable way. ‘Tropical’ is actually rather apt, as the smooth wash of electronic textures build and twist, the temperature rises and attendant bodies groove throughout the room; it’s not long before the breeze of a synth sound has spun in on itself and whipped up a tropical storm of electronica and massive guitar lines, warbling like the din of a cyclone. And with that, day one was over. The second half of this review will be written through much hazier recollections, as the Saturday night ambled on into the early hours and the Sunday left most feeling the distinct sting of tiredness. The double-espresso shot of noise everyone needed on the Sunday afternoon came in the form of the fearsome Irk. Post-hardcore mixed with mathy tropes, the guttural, raspy screams of the vocalist splattered out over the most tonally warped, gruesome sounding bass guitar I’ve ever heard. All in all, Irk brought warmth and colour to the pallid faces of the those hungover bodies that had dragged themselves down in time to hear it.

Ear-splitting kept to a minimum, the crowd picked themselves up for the contrastingly happy, upbeat sound of A-tota-so. Three musicians have never looked more in control of every note and drum stroke, as they intricately wound their way around tappy riffs and melodic bursts, before sinking into muddy noisy sections with equal control. Best snare drum sound of the festival goes to this set; what a piercing din was made, what a penetrating crunch from a batter head so tight the sticks pinged off it like a trampoline, atop which thrived a most gymnastic and dextrous display of drumming. Drums often proved more than a rhythmic backdrop for guitars to dance over at this festival, it’s only as much as you’d expect from thoughtful math-rock, but none did so more effectively than that of A-tota-so.

As a math-rock lover born in the flat, tediously homogenous farmlands of Lincolnshire, I used to find myself stranded away from festivals like this, lamenting the dearth of good bands in my area. Enter Bear Makes Ninja, Sleaford’s answer to the void left by the vocal driven math-pop-rockers of yesteryear. Think Tubelord at full ferocity, with harmonies abounding as a most bright and crisp guitar tone gives way to a most distorted one. All the while at the back of the stage, beefy drums were navigated with the most robotic, metronomic precision I have ever seen in such a noisy band, with pounding snare and cymbals laid down flawlessly. Not to mention this was done whilst the drummer simultaneously soared away with lustrous backing vocals. Stunning! Tackling parts this technical and channelling them into a fully structured song with three part harmonies and memorable hooks is a difficult task, but when they get it right, boy do BMN get it right. The ascending hallmark riff of 12345 (a favourite from our review of debut album Shenanagrams) was one of the most memorable parts of the weekend for me, and that is as high a compliment as I know how to give from a line-up so saturated with talent.

There were so many great bands on the Sunday that – although it’s too late for brevity – I’ll stick to my personal highlights. Taking to the floor, in the most literal sense, where Scotland’s finest post-rock, math-rock hybrid band, Dialects. With pedalboards this big and musicians using them as they wield guitars like proverbial axes – chopping and turning through the air with a dangerous energy – there was no room for math-rock this animated on such a stage. Standing at crowd level, guitars swelled with heart warming reverb, mind-melting tapping, frantic riffs filtered through delays and tones purpose-chosen; Dialects are an immense force on this scene, giving every ounce of energy to every song. Through the unique dynamic between the two guitars - one controlling and modulating the riff, one experimentally hacking at and bending strings - Dialects create cathartic songs to lose your mind, and all of your troubles, to. Just bring earplugs and watch out for the stray sway of a guitar neck whirling around (see below) as energetically as the riff it’s bringing to your ears.

Axes return to the stage was as fun a finale to the festival as anyone could have wished for. Remembering the intricacies of songs long since played live was a thoroughly entertaining process to watch; intimate and light-hearted, as cheery and spirited as the wonky riffs and jangling math-rock they willed themselves to construct. Thankfully, the audience had done their homework, urging in each new stab and stall to arise and break with head bobs of great precision. The band had a look of astonishment at the music their fingers were carving out of their fretboards. Twiddly, fast tempo riffs bobbled along over chunky bass rumbles, dipping in and out of different time signatures with formidable control and with a perfect balance between the two guitarists, wrestling with each other and both winning. A euphonic and emphatic finish to the weekend. Overall, my first time at StrangeForms did not disappoint. The music was incredible, of course, of this I could scarcely wish my expectations to have been passed, such was the brilliance of the line-up. But it was the atmosphere of the place I was thankful to have experienced. Here, there and everywhere people discussed the music and the musicians, the sets and the scene with voracious interest and excitement. Why is this scene so generous, warm, considerate and always the nexus of many an interesting conversation? Perhaps it is because many of the audience are in some way involved in the scene, creatively, artistically, from t-shirt designs to posters, PR and promotion, record labels, distros, videographers and writers – the passion is still somehow infectious in a crowd where everyone has already caught the bug. The joy of each head bang, of each pedal-tap induced wall of sound is lost on no-one; unique to this epicentre of musicians, artists and listeners is the feeling that everyone has taken time to totally immerse themselves in the scene. This noisy world is one of few where everyone is so friendly and familiar with everyone else, so buoyed in collective anticipation by a good line-up at the next of many events, from Bristol to Brighton, Leeds to London and beyond; there are no half-hearted math-rock lovers, and few are more passionate than Bad Owls about good music and good people.

Like every band that took to the stage, I’d like to heartily thank Stewart and Kerry and everyone else amongst the Bad Owls team for putting on such a great weekend of music! Words by Jonny Gleadell. Images by Tiago Morelli (http://feckingbahamas.com/author/tiago-morelli)

#theblog #festivalreview #dialects #strangeforms #vasa #polymath #gallops #bear makes ninja #horizontal

[rigelmejo]

how my chinese progress is going:

i can watch a cut of zhu yilong’s character in border town prodigal and mostly understand all the dialogue/chinese subtitles in real time. like, 80%. some lines i can follow completely. but to be fair its easy stuff like “first we aren’t friends, second don’t touch my sword” and “no i don’t want to get drunk/drink” and “i’m leaving”. 

i also watched the pilot of The Shaw Eleven and followed it well enough to at least jump into the second episode (which had english subs), and have been familiar with most of the plot (except i hadn’t been clear on if zyl’s character was the brother or fiance of the main pretty girl - turns out he’s the fiance). but to be fair - this show is pretty much a fighting game as-a-drama, so the plot is ridiculously simple, and easy to follow, and most of the show is just fights - which require little language skill to understand lol. but yeah, anyway, when i watched the first episode i just read the chinese subtitles/listened and tried to follow along in real time, so i think that’s pretty decent comprehension. no where close to like total, but i followed the gist. i translated some lines to my roomate chilling in the room with me. 

---

i want to get to the point i can READ a novel and. wow. that is so far away. i want to also get to the point i can watch case-type shows without english subs and... i imagine cause those plots are Puzzles that i am a ways... away from managing something like THAT. i want... to watch anti-fraud league. and it apparently isn’t subbed anywhere in english. i followed the pilot well enough without english subs but... because its a case-type show, i doubt i would continue to manage to follow along decently enough to comprehend whats going on...

and a note for myself: my comprehension skills are definitely outpacing my production skills. i can recognize a lot of characters i cannot write (and there’s a decent number of words i can listen to and recognize, but don’t know what they look like). that’s not a major issue right now, but it might be later if i’d like to ever speak/write decently, so i should probably work through a grammar book again/textbook and practice writing some, in the future when that’ll be a goal i want to focus on. also - my reading ability is outpacing my listening ability just a bit. the gap is less extreme than it is in french, but i definitely can scan through text and make guesses/inferences, whereas if i am listening to dialogue i only really recognize the words i already am sure i KNOW. since reading, ultimately, is my main goal, this isn’t too much of an issue. but i need to remember to play audio when possible, when i’m reading. and i need to remember to try and read aloud to myself when possible, when i know the pronunciations of characters, so i can practice their pronunciations and make efforts to remember them.

it is interesting to me that certain things are easier to ‘learn’. in reading, im getting much better at following ‘time explanations’ and dialogue. reading more, just general reading practice, has also helped the grammar start to make more sense to me without very much conscious effort or self-explaining on my part. its just, i’m seeing the sentence structures more and more and they’re becoming easier to follow. descriptions especially are starting to become easier to parse out. so i guess, i’d say at least within my own experience, the advice of ‘read more and expose yourself to the language more, and the grammar will become more understandable to you’ is pretty on point. 

#rant #i SWEAR the only way i really learn and learn fast #is to just get thrown headfirst into deep water and be FORCED to understand #because i've learned most of the characters and words i know #from making myself read and watch shows without english subs #i learned the characters for eye and foot just because i kept seeing them over and over in Silent Reading #i finally learned anzi means case and an means case because it shows up in EVERY think i watch #i learned sha and su super easy cause again. guess what turns up in EVERYTHING i watch. #i think all the ways to say "you okay? im fine #. its nothing. of course' would make sense if i hadn't seen them in context over and over in Detective L #since they can mean both 'its nothing' and 'its right' and 'okay' #whereas when i try to learn from flashcards it is a STRUGGLE to get through like 10 an hour and my brain hates it #and when i try to read a structured book on characters AGAIN my brain fights it to just get through a few pages #but like? me trying to Actually READ in the language itself? #my brain feels filled to the brim and like its working HARD. but its engaged. it can keep up its attention. at least for 20 minutes or so. #but because its ENGAGED i actually remember a bit more from the study session even though it was INTENSE #i think in part its because as much of a struggle it is - its interesting and feels like puzzle solving like im achieving something #and because later when i try to do it again - i can physically FEEL the difference in ability. and literally SEE how much i've learned #based on how much easier the task is to do the next time i try it.

[shutterbug-12]

TL;DR Nobody’ll care anyway.

I’ve had...a day. One of those days when nothing in particular was exceptionally terrible, but nevertheless a day that tears and rips at you. Ratchets up your stress level while you’re trying your damnedest to be productive, and then you wonder why you’re picking fights and trying to rip people’s heads off for simply starting a conversation with you. Yeah. One of those days. 

And it’s just par for the year. I have my good days and all, and there have been some nice things about this year. But, you know...so much shit has been building and building, compounding and multiplying...and, some days, it’s as if you’re bearing all its weight and struggling not to let it knock you down and crush you. Other days you think, “Eh, might as well. Sounds better than carrying on like this.” 

Everything just feels...exhausting. There are so many problems I can’t--never mind control...I can hardly even affect. But they’re there, in my life constantly, somewhere, and I wonder if the world will ever climb out of this shit-hole that’s filled to its brim with: a pandemic that (at least here in the U.S.) is still out of control, rampant racism, violence against minorities and the poor, assholes who are trying to destroy the post office, all the stress associated with an oncoming election, growing fascism, antisemitism, homophobia, and so many other things--and selfish, ignorant people who are only making everything worse. 

So there’s that. 

Plus I have been entirely unmotivated at work. I’ll make sure I get some things done every day, but...I hardly have the energy or mental capacity or concentration to work at the pace I once did, you know, in the Before Times. I’ve been chalking this up to trying to work and deal with all the aforementioned problems in this shit-hole, but I can’t help but feel guilty and worry that I’m not working hard enough for my supervisors. I’m doing the best I can to work and...retain what sanity I have left, but sometimes I feel like my “best” isn’t very good. 

I’m increasingly worried about the idea of being told I have to return to the office. When the cases haven’t really changed much, I...don’t think anyone should be going back to the office. I’ve already said that I won’t be returning until I see 14 consecutive days of decreasing new cases in my county and the two adjacent ones. I’m just worried about the pressure I’ll face from my supervisors. 

And on top of that...my brain really wants to write again, but I seem to have terrible timing. When I really want to write, I can’t because I need to work, or do something else (take Luna for a walk, get groceries, make dinner, tend to the garden, etc.). But when I have some time, my brain isn’t engaged in writing. So. That’s frustrating. I haven’t written in months--since the pandemic struck in the U.S., really. And finally--finally!--my brain is in a place where it wants to write. I just want to write. *cries*

Well, at least my hockey boys managed to win and hang on. That’s something, I guess.

[sundaymomma-ing]

It is exhausting. It is exhausting in that exhilarating, new baby, so excited to be a momma way. The way that is empowering because you chose to grow this life and there is power in that choice. It is exhausting in the haven’t slept, let alone showered, in four days because your little one is going through some sort of sleep regression. This is not empowering, just tiresome as you try to help a tiny person figure out what their normal sleep pattern is. More than sleep though mothering tires us because of its constancy. Because there is always, at every moment of the day and night, someone who needs us. There is always more on the “to do” list, always one more enriching activity to engage our children in, one more event to attend. More even than those “seen” activities are the hours spent tucking and re-tucking blankets around cold toes, quieting angry or frightened cries, simply rocking in the lamp-light with a feverish baby on your lap.                                                 The unseen hours of being a momma are the ones that can draw us close to the edges of our sanity. These are the hours that cause our weariness. My husband used that word in conversation last night and I was caught by how true it was of how I can feel. The word weary defines how the exhaustion seeps into our bones, into our very tissue.

Mothering is lonely. Or, it can be. If you have not found your mom-friends you can be physically lonely. By yourself, surrounded by littles all day. Later, you’ll be lonely for a truer type of friendship, people who have kids that play well with yours, sure. But also a woman or two who you connect with, a woman that you’d be friends with regardless of children. I often feel lonely simply because I am so not alone…I am completely overwhelmed with all of the kids. There is no “me” apart from “them” and I miss myself, the me I worked so hard to be true to, and to grow into is missing. Isolation inside of a busy house is such a difficult concept to understand, you have to experience it yourself to get it. That built in village somehow eludes us. We want it, need to have a group of people to do life with, but we hesitate to ask for it, instead feeling we were meant to be alone in this raising of babies.                      This is such a lie and I can’t live in it anymore. I know I need people. I know that I can not be lonely or all of the other aspects of mothering become overwhelming. I know that by allowing others to see my struggles and my failings I am helping them overcome their own. By being open to helping and to being helped I create a less lonesome environment and this is what I have longed for.

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It is chaotic. As in there is always a mess, always something that needs fixing, someone that is screeching. The chaos of mothering is seen in those videos about how a mom gets nothing done. Again there is more to it than that though, it’s a chaos in my mind. A never-ending stream of things to do, things that I will never, ever get done. It is a constant lowering of expectations of myself; that can break a person, let me tell you. It is always hearing all of their questions, always knowing where every item is in the house, always knowing what’s next on the calendar. It’s like being a secretary for several demanding, tiny people who will give me no time off. Keeping all of those mental tabs open can make me feel like there is a hive of angry bees buzzing inside of me. There is no remedy of this chaos. There is only begging quiet or stealing it from the wee hours. There is sweeping the floor around stacks of laundry because that’s just as good as it’s going to get. There is sending the screeching outside and one day realizing that in chaos we must create our own peace.

In all of this I see that being a momma is overwhelming. I wonder at the God-given ability in me to handle this life. I know that I don’t do any of this alone, and I know that if I had to I would have failed years ago. In the chaos, in the exhaustion, in the loneliness…the only respite is in Christ. I had tried to learn to meditate once, tried to still my mind and find clarity. Let’s just say it was hard and leave it at that. Recently a friend recommended a book that brought meditation back to mind and last night as I lay not quite asleep wondering how long before my tiny awoke crying (it was twenty minutes), I practiced. I breathed in and out focusing on the rhythm. While I had low expectations, I did find the quiet place in my body for a moment or two, that place in which no one is calling for my attention. It is freeing to get there, if only for that moment. I trusted again that God is right here, a calming presence in the chaos, a constant companion in my loneliness, the strength I need when I am exhausted.

Then I exhaled and went to soothe a three-year-old through her distress, not for the last time this night. As the chaos woke with me this morning I tried to remember that peace-filled place. While calm has eluded me so far, I have felt God’s presence all the same. I know that when I don’t get the quiet my body and brain scream for, I can still have rest. “Come to Me all who are weary…” Matt.11:28 The rest, the peace, the calm, the quiet. These are things missing from my mothering, true. Today I choose to focus on the good though. While I have struggled with the heavy load that mothering causes, I can choose joy even in this. And with a few good friends who understand when I wail via text message about the littles and their particular brand of crazy,  I am better able to see the joy. The joy of being a momma, the joy of living in community, the joy in the sleepless nights and in the chaos, because I am not alone.

And so while mothering is exhausting, sometimes lonely and terribly chaotic, what I choose to feel this morning is none of that. Where I choose to focus my mental energy is on the overwhelming sense of how much love there is in my life. Yes, it is exhausting that my little people require so much from me, but they will not always. This part of my life is when I get to be so loved that they fight over who sits by me at dinner! There are days when I want nothing more than a long walk with a friend, days when I am lonely while surrounded. I try to remember that all too soon my children will be grown and it will be them that I am missing. The chaos stills at the end of every day, maybe not for the entire night, but it is there. Early in the morning when I wake to tap out feelings and emotions surrounded by the chaos of Legos and pop-beads I can see what’s missing from that mess; already my nine year-old has fewer toys on the floor. Her mess changing from dolls to drawing supplies.

It will happen, the day will come when my children would rather be in their bedrooms than on the sofa next to me. A morning is not far off when they will sleep later than I would like and I will go to wake them. One afternoon I will go to sweep the floor and I won’t have to pick up crayons or tiny animals first. It will happen, and I am saddened just thinking about it. So while this did take me four days to write out because of erratic sleeping patterns and a fussy toddler, and I did have to take a break from home last night, I know that my life is filled to the brim with love. That this time with my littles is fleeting.

My husband quoted this snippet of a verse to me once; “…Quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep…” I found the full poem long ago and I have always wanted to paint it on my wall as a reminder. It holds special meaning for me and I sing-song it in my head when my own fifth-child is making me question my sanity. As I turn off my computer now to jump into mothering I hope to stay in the joyful present all day long.

Thoughts on Mothering It is exhausting. It is exhausting in that exhilarating, new baby, so excited to be a momma way.