#was just so overly happy to see them again even though i knew they'd be there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

some-creep · 10 months

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<3 you guys don't care if I didn't read this next one right? Right of course not. And I did that thing again where scenes are not connected in ways that make sense. It's ok though because I like it.

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"Remind me, again, why you're making me drive all the way back to Calamari County?" Marie asked, if only to keep herself awake as she stared at the horizon of a never ending road to nowhere.

Callie had her hand out the open window, flexing her fingers up and down to "surf" along the air currant.

"Callie."

"Huh? You say something?" Callie pulled her hand back in, looking over at Marie, who diligently did not look at her.

"Why couldn't we take the train?"

"No fun."

"And this is fun?" Marie gestured towards the windshield at the sea of rolling green hills that all started to blur together after a while.

Callie thought for a moment, looking out the passenger side window. "Well, we don't have to worry about anyone taking our picture or bothering us and stuff. Just me and you."

"Oh. Yeah I guess."

She was quiet for a while, staring out the window. Their trip was almost over, and soon they'd be arriving at her parents house. Marie had convinced her it was a good idea, but she was starting to doubt it.

Callie's parents didn't know she'd been abducted, and they sure as hell didn't know what she was up to during that time. They didn't know anything about their actual time spent as Agent 1 and Agent 2, to her parents, she and Marie were just playing pretend.

She did find it odd that her parents didn't know anything about the new Squidbeak, maybe Marie's did, but she didn't talk about her parents. That was also odd. Even growing up, Callie had rarely seen them, and she couldn't remember spending any time at Marie's house.

All that mattered was her parents would be happy to see her after all this time. She'd been neglecting going home, and she knew her parents missed her. At least, that's what Marie had assured her of. She couldn't deny she felt a little guilty about what she'd really been up to.

Callie's parents weren't overly traditional, they'd been supportive of her unusual career choice, of her moving out to the big city, of her staying with Marie, but there was always the expectation she'd one day stop all of that and find a nice boy to settle down with. One she wasn't related to. Marie had similar expectations placed on her, but the moment she moved out was the moment her parents stopped caring about what happened to her. If they ever really cared before.

"Y'know, Cal?"

Callie jumped at Marie's voice, head snapping to look at her. "Huh?"

"I was just thinking about how, uh, this is my .. Our? First time seeing your folks since. Uh. Y'know."

"Since I got kidnapped?"

"Well, that too. But no. Since we…started dating? I guess you can say." Marie wrung her hands on the steering wheel, glancing at Callie to see if she could catch her reaction. No luck.

"Is that why you look all fancy?"

Marie blushed. "No! Not exactly. I just wanted them to think I was well put together and trustworthy and responsible so they wouldn't have to worry about you living with me!"

"You mean~ like a boyfriend?"

She shook her head, electing not to answer. Yes like that but no definitely not like that because if anyone thought like that they'd be in trouble. Marie wanted the perks of being seen as a worthy partner with none of the baggage. She wasn't getting either.

Eventually, the endless waves of green gave way to several small buildings dotting the horizon, then the sides of the road as they rolled into town. Buildings that hadn't been updated in decades with dusty old signs and peeling paint on the outside. Gravel parking lots and unpaved side roads. The gas station Marie worked at for a summer. The corner store she and Callie would go to after school to buy candy whenever they had spare change. The street that led to a deadend, and beyond that an abandoned scrapyard where they'd meet up in the middle of the night. It wasn't much, but it was home.

And Marie absolutely hated it.

—-----

She still remembered the road to Callie's house just as well as she remembered how to get to their apartment in Inkopolis. Even though she avoided going back to Calamari County as much as she could, she still remembered it like she'd visited only yesterday. Sure, it helped that there were only a few roads to go down anyway, but in her mind it was just so familiar.

They pulled into the driveway that sported the exact same cracks as it did when they were both children. Callie had offered them money to fix it, if they wanted, but they were quick to turn it down. Nothing about the house had changed at any point that Marie could remember. Same off-yellow exterior, same bushes with sharp prickles ready to scratch the unsuspecting person trying to play around them, same dirty screen door bent at the bottom with a small hole in the upper right corner of the mesh that they'd fix sooner or later.

The front door opened, and Callie was quick to bolt from the car to greet her mom, Marie's Aunt Charlie, though she rarely referred to her in conversation as anything other than 'your mom'. She was short, even by Inkling standards, with long black tentacles not too dissimilar from Callie's tied on top of her head. Marie wondered if it was done in an attempt to make her look taller.

Callie was hugging her, perhaps already forgetting why she was anxious to begin with, or perhaps she was distracted by the smell of freshly baked cookies coming from inside the house. Aunt Charlie usually only baked for holidays and special occasions, but this was, in a way, a special occasion.

Marie took a deep breath, turning off the car and popping open the trunk. She needed to get their bags out, and it didn't look like Callie was going to be much help. She wondered how Callie had possibly packed so much stuff for a short weekend trip. Was she planning on moving back in? She tried to lift the suitcase with one hand and frowned.

"Hey, roller main, get your butt over here and do the heavy lifting!" Marie looked around the car to see that Callie was already long gone inside of the house. Great.

Her aunt had noticed, stepping off the porch and across the lawn to help her with the bags. Marie muttered an awkward little thank you, feeling like she really should have been able to handle all of this on her own. Strike one against her definitely not boyfriend but something like it but not in a weird way credibility card.

"Marie, have you gotten taller?" She asked, reaching up to rub the top of Marie's head without bothering to ask.

Marie forced a smile, "I… don't think so?"

"Maybe I've just never seen you stand up straight before!"

"Haha, yeah, maybe that's it."

"You look pretty today. Have you found a nice man yet? I know you said you're retiring so you can settle down. What about Callie? You know she used to be popular with the boys at school. Maybe she could help you out. I remember your mother saying you'd never find someone because -"

"Heeey so let's go see where Callie went!" She interjected, slipping past her aunt and scampering towards the door, leaving their bags behind. She wasn't ready to deal with this on her own yet.

She nearly ran into Callie as she came barreling through the front door to escape any more invasive questions. Callie stood just outside of the kitchen, with chocolate on the corners of her lips, holding three cookies in one hand and a half eaten one in the other. She extended her arm and silently offered Marie a cookie while she chewed.

She grabbed all three from her hand, pointing towards the front door. "Go help carry."

"Stealing from me…" she whined, shuffling towards the front door. "Take your shoes off at least!" Callie called back before heading outside, leaving Marie alone once more.

—------

"It's nice, huh?"

Marie turned towards the voice, realizing Callie's dad was finally home. He looked quite a bit like his father, though far younger and still sporting tannish gray tentacles tied back out of the way so as not to be a hazard at work. The golden eyes she and Callie had seemed to skip a generation, as neither her mother nor Callie's father had them, both being born instead with dark brown eyes.

"Oh, hi sir– I mean, Uncle Craig." She half waved before she realized how little sense that made and lowered her hand. "Yeah I… Gramps gave you that, right?" She gestured back at the antique charger that hung on the wall. It looked almost like a Bamboozler, but it was even older than the one Gramps had used during the Great Turf War.

He'd gotten it from his father, who'd gotten it from his, then Gramps had given it to his son, Craig jr.

Craig jr. had only one daughter, and no one to pass the thing on to. Unless, of course, she got married. Marie knew all of this well, she'd heard the story a dozen times before. It was always odd to her it didn't just go to the next child. Why it needed to be a son was beyond her. Her mother had gotten nothing to pass down to her, not that she'd do that anyway.

"It still works, too. I take it out every so often and shoot cans."

"Must be well taken care of."

"I just hope when Callie has a family of her own it'll stay that way."

Marie looked away, nodding. "I'm sure it will. Gramps taught us how to take care of old guns like that. Guess I could give her a refresher when the time comes."

"What about you?" He smiled, patting her on the back just a bit too hard. "Any plans of settling down and starting a family yet?"

"Me? Not really."

"That's too bad. You'll make a great mom one day I bet!"

He thought it was a compliment. She knew he did, genuinely, think that. Regardless, the idea made her skin crawl. She'd just smile and nod. It was all she could do.

"Anyway, I promised to help make dinner. Aunt Charlie doesn't believe me when I say I learned to cook for Callie."

"She doesn't! Well that's not fair is it."

Marie excused herself to the kitchen. Callie was already there, sitting in a raised chair and swinging her feet under the table while she chatted with her mom. It stood taller than average to make it easier to do the heavy lifting of a countertop, something this kitchen lacked in excess. She stopped by the refrigerator, leaning against it. Callie's mom stood with her back to the sink, offering her a small nod to acknowledge her.

Callie grinned over at her, still kicking her feet.

"Did you get bored looking at stuff?"

"No. I'm being a good house guest and being involved here. Or something."

"Or something~."

"Marie, Callie tells me you've been working on starting up a podcast? How's that coming along."

"Oh, uh, fine. It's alright so far." She shrugged, "bit different than my usual."

"You know, aren't a lot of people doing that already? Podcasts? Not that I listen to any of them, but wouldn't it make more sense to focus on something more sustainable?"

"D'ahhhh…"

"Mom!"

"Well I just want to make sure you girls have enough money to live in that city. No point in taking unnecessary risks."

Marie bit her tongue, refusing to let herself remind her aunt that she and Callie moved to Inkopolis with no money and worked in a warehouse to pay bills while they waited for their career to take off. Without her help. If she didn't care about their financial situation then, when they were just barely teenagers, why did it matter now?

Her expression must have been a dead giveaway for Callie to quickly interject and diffuse the situation. "Marie always tells me I have more money than I can count, so I don't think money's an issue for us anymore!"

"Well I don't think she should be living off of you either."

"That's not–" Callie frowned, rubbing her neck. "We're fine, mom, really."

Marie hadn't even lasted more than a few minutes under scrutiny. She brushed imaginary dusty off of the front of her shirt, a subtly patterned button up Callie had insisted looked handsome and whatever else Marie wanted to hear. Now she just felt silly in it.

"I gotta go call my manager. Excuse me." Some help she was, bailing like this.

Callie bit her lip, watching her go out the front door. "It's probably really important stuff that I should know about! Be right back!"

—-----

"I thought you quit smoking." Callie mumbled as she stepped around the car. Marie was standing by the passenger door, leaning back on her impromptu smoke break.

"Yeah, me too."

Callie reached towards her hand, but Marie pulled it away, dropping ash onto the roof of her car.

"Mawee." She pouted, trying to grab it again by stepping too close for public comfort.

"Scram, will ya?"

Callie huffed, backing up before flopping against the car next to her, standing shoulder to shoulder. "Mom just cares about us a lot. Don't take it the wrong way."

"Sure."

"I'm serious!"

"I said sure." Marie took a drag off her cigarette, leaning her head back.

Callie stood with her, saying nothing as she leaned against Marie, letting her have her break. She looked up at the clouds rolling by, trying to decide what they looked like. They stayed this way for a while, even after Marie had finished smoking. Callie had taken hold of her hand, rubbing her fingers behind the car where no one inside could see them.

"Mom loves us, Marie. No matter what. I know it."

Marie said nothing. Pushing herself up to stand. They needed to go back inside. Callie hadn't let go of her hand, and they took a few steps together this way before Callie finally let her go. Marie was calmer, for now. At least for as long as it took them to make it back inside.

"I went ahead and made up the spare bedroom for you, Marie. I even moved your bag in for you. Much lighter than someone's~."

"Oh, thank you. I could have gotten it though."

"What was the phone call about?"

She glanced at Callie, who glanced back at her. Marie wondered if she'd been spying. Callie was quick to lie.

"It's a secret project Marie is working on with my help!"

"It's not a secret if you tell people." Marie played along, effortlessly, grateful Callie was here to back her up. And to make her look like less of a freeloader.

She wasn't a freeloader, but she didn't like the accusation that she couldn't care for herself and for Callie. Callie didn't need to be taken care of, but in Marie's mind, it was the right thing to do and what her parents wanted to hear. That someone was taking care of their daughter with a steady job that made lots of money. They already had lots of money but it was earned in a way other people didn't seem to understand. She had financial freedom and now she had regular freedom, and with that freedom she wanted to pursue work she had control over. It wasn't fair that it looked like a joke to other people, people that she respected.

It was clear her aunt didn't buy it. She felt like she was being studied, if only for a moment. Eyes scanning over her looking for any wrong move or awkward glance or laugh to prove she was lying. Maybe she was just paranoid.

"A secret project, that sounds exciting." Callie's dad spoke up from the armchair, a welcome distraction and enough of a reason to ignore her aunt.

"Yeah! And if everything works out you'll really like it, dad!"

"Can I have a hint?"

"Only if Marie wants to."

"It's a secret." Marie shrugged. His genuine interest did make her feel a little guilty about her lack of tangible, upcoming projects. She really didn't have anything to talk about other than work. She didn't have friends to discuss, she wasn't traveling right now. She didn't travel anyway except for work so that didn't matter. No point bringing up her heroic rescue of Callie because as true as it was she'd just look insane. Worse still she needed to think of things to talk about with her aunt, who she still needed to help in the kitchen. Couldn't flake on that as much as she wanted to now. With any luck she could say the right thing and not have to worry so much.

—-----

Marie prided herself on her ability to make use of a sparse kitchen. It was hard to keep essentials stocked when they were always out traveling for work. They could afford groceries, but buying them was often a waste. She'd mastered making crabby cakes exactly like Callie loved, fries served almost just like her favorite food truck. Really, most of what she was good at she was good at for Callie. All the more reason she found it insufferable when her aunt decided to nitpick her every choice. She was helping, and it felt like it wasn't being appreciated.

Don't use too much of that. You need to cut the vegetables smaller or they won't cook right. Don't use that spoon, use the other one. Oh you girls must only eat takeout everyday.

Marie abandoned all hope of an award winning conversation with Callie's mother. She just shut up and followed orders. Which inevitably lead to: Marie you still don't talk much do you? Just like your mother always used to say.

How many days did Callie want to be here again? How many days had she told Callie they should be here?

She sat next to Callie at the kitchen table to eat dinner, deciding it was better if she only spoke when spoken to. What was there for her to even say? Callie was keen on chatting for her anyway. Still, her uncle noticed her silence and tried to include her.

"So, Marie, you helped cook tonight, huh?"

"She tried to." Callie's mother laughed. Marie did not. She didn't find it to be very funny.

Marie only shrugged. "Guess not really."

"All that ordering out those girls do. It's a wonder they've lasted as long as they have."

"Marie does a good job cooking," Callie insisted, "she likes to take care of me."

"Ah, see, just like I said. Gonna be a great mom one day." Callie's father smiled. Marie wished he wouldn't try so hard.

He wanted to keep peace between everyone, wanted Marie to be happy, but it was just making things worse. He always used to comment on how unhappy she looked when she was little, but never thought to ask why. Maybe he figured kids didn't have real reasons to be unhappy, so whatever was bothering her didn't matter. She wouldn't have told him anyway. How could she? How could a child have the vocabulary to explain fully all the problems they experienced at home? In a way adults would understand. They couldn't. She couldn't.

It was better not to dwell on it. He could imagine any backstory he wanted for her and it wouldn't make a difference. They were here, now, in this moment, and Marie was grown anyway. Her problems were her own.

Maybe she could get through the rest of dinner without adding to her list of issues. Callie could help see to that. Talk about shows they did, stories Marie had forgotten, places they went, people they met. Happy memories from the past, from a time when her aunt and uncle saw her at useful to their daughter.

—------

It was strange, sitting on the roof alone. The cloud cover meant she could see only abstract shapes in the night sky, blotting out the usual luster of the pitch black country sky. Fitting that she couldn't see the stars without Callie by her side. It wasn't like she had a good reason to be up here alone, Callie was just inside showering before bed. Marie thought it would help clear her head to go out on her own and let the cold chill of the night air ground her in the moment. It wasn't a moment she wanted to be in.

She heard the door slide open beneath her, and then the ladder creak and shake. Callie's head soon peaked up over the gutter.

"Can't we stargaze somewhere a little less scary?" She asked, reaching up for Marie to help her.

Marie obliged, taking Callie's arm into her hand and pulling her onto the roof. Her skin was still damp and hot. "Can't see the stars unless you're up high," she said.

"Literally not true." Callie climbed up next to Marie, linking arms with her. It wasn't even that high, especially not for an Inkling, but falling was scary and Callie preferred not to think about it.

"It helps."

"Why'd you come up here by yourself? Cos you hate me? Wanted to abandon me?"

Marie frowned, shaking her head. "I just…wanted some time, is all."

Callie pulled her knees up to her chest as a cool breeze passed. She wasn't dressed for a chilly night like this.

"How much time is some time? Cos I think my tentacles are gonna turn to ice and fall off and then I'll be bald."

"You're exaggerating."

"And you're dodging the question."

She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck with her free hand. She was. She didn't know how much time some time was. Until she stopped feeling miserable? Until she decided she didn't care? Neither of those would happen until she got some sleep, and sleeping on the roof seemed like a bad idea.

"I think it was a bad idea to come here," Marie said after a moment of careful consideration. She didn't want it to be too obvious that she was spiraling.

"You were the one who wanted to come," Callie reminded her.

"Well, I changed my mind."

"Mm…how come?"

"Because your parents don't like me."

The answer had come so quickly it had caught Callie off guard. "Yes they do, why would you say that?"

"Because no one likes me. Not really."

It was a non answer and a reminder that things were rarely as simple as they seemed. Whatever problems Marie perceived from the day spent with Callie's parents was just a small part of a bigger issue.

"You're famous. I think lots of people like you."

"No. People like Marie the artist. They don't like Marie the person."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that they like the version of me they can buy. They like the things I create. They like the meanings they make up for themselves but they don't ask what any of it meant to me. Nobody wants to know me, the real me, the awkward squid who can't hold a conversation without a script. Who…who isn't even really sure who she is. People think they know who I am but they're always wrong."

"Am I wrong?"

"No, but you're different."

"Mm. Then why aren't my parents different? I don't think they like you cos you're a famous idol. I think they like you cos you're their niece."

Marie flinched at the reminder.

"Basically like a second daughter," Callie added with a grin.

"You're making it weird."

"Mhm!"

"Well, don't. Or I'll smack you."

Callie thought for a moment, rubbing her chin for added flair. "I might like that. Let's try it!"

"Callie! Be serious!"

"Then tell me what's bugging you. Other than me~."

"You didn't notice the way your mom was looking at me? I haven't seen them or spoken to them in, like, ten years. And she didn't seem happy to see me. I dunno why."

"Maybe you're imagining it…"

"I'm not."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

Callie sighed, resting her head against Marie's shoulder. "Well, so what?"

Marie paused. "What do you mean 'so what'?"

Callie turned her face up towards Marie's. "So what if they don't like you."

She looked away, staring at the empty backyard that was illuminated only faintly by the open back door. Callie had left the kitchen light on when she made her way outside.

"I want people to like me."

She nodded, kissing her cheek. "Not everyone will like you. Even if you didn't do anything wrong. And sometimes people who used to like you will stop. Even if it seems like they don't have a good reason."

"That doesn't sound very optimistic."

"Yeah! You told me that first, that's why~."

"Ah."

Callie giggled, hugging her arm tighter. "But you were right, y'know? But it's not a bad thing. It's just a regular thing. Isn't it enough that I like you~?"

Marie didn't answer. Was that enough? Yes was the obvious answer, but what if Callie one day didn't like her? And she'd have no one. No friends, no family, nothing. It seemed impossible, but it could happen at any moment.

"I want people to like me."

"Statistically 99% of people don't like you. You told me that too!"

"You're not helping!"

"I am. Cos you think cos you have access to a lot of people, all of them should like you. But they don't and they won't."

"People like you. Everyone likes you."

"Nuh uh."

Marie rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"I mean it. I've lost lots of friends saying or doing the wrong thing. And you can never ever fix it and the more you try the worse it is. Every time!" Callie reached up, poking Marie's cheek. "But it's okay, y'know why?"

Marie raised an eyebrow.

"Cos tomorrow happens anyway! Sure you'll still feel bad and stuff but buy a fun drink! Like a. A super sparkle rainbow milk tea with extra little squishy things and sprinkles! Or, or, we can go to the beach together or go shopping and -"

Marie cut her off. "Are you just telling me things you want from me!"

She giggled, rocking back and forth with Marie. "Maybe a little," she said, "but it's a good idea anyway. Sure you'll feel bad but you'll feel bad with a little treat. And if you do that enough it stops feeling bad."

Marie relented. "Yeah, maybe."

Callie rubbed her shoulder, leaning up to kiss her once more. Despite Marie's reluctance, she kept up with it for a while, gradually crawling into her lap.

"Don't drop me okay?"

"Y'know if anyone finds us…" she rubbed Callie's thigh absently, trying to warm her up a little.

"Who's gonna find us? My parents are sleeping already."

"Shouldn't you be in bed too, then?"

"Mmmaybe you should take me to bed."

—-------

Marie was hesitant to take Callie up on her offer, but she gave in as usual. Callie found the danger exciting, the fear of getting caught sneaking her partner into her bedroom in the middle of the night. She felt like a kid again. Marie took it much more seriously. There were real consequences to them getting caught! Not just getting grounded.

But she did always want to kiss Callie in her room… she'd thought about it for a while, even after they moved out, she sometimes caught herself wondering what would have happened had she acted sooner.

Callie sat on the edge of her childhood bed, kissing Marie, who stood leaning over her. She reached up, wrapping her arms around Marie's neck.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout now, Mar?"

"How do you know I'm thinking about anything?"

"Cos you always think about stuff."

"Nuh uh."

"C'mon, spill!" She said, pulling Marie down with her as she lay down.

"Shh! Not so loud…"

Callie grinned, kissing her forehead. "Spill."

"It's kinda weird. You sure you wanna know?"

"Well now I definitely want to know."

Marie pushed herself up, knowing she couldn't get far with Callie holding her in place. She looked around the room at the old posters Callie had hung up, old photographs and awards. It really did feel like nothing had changed. Though, she couldn't look long once she realized how scummy it felt to be turned on with the ever smiling face of preteen Callie looming over them both. It wasn't that serious. It felt that serious with Callie begging to know her childhood fantasies with her. It made her a bit nauseous.

"I just… we spent a lot of time in here together, right?"

"The most time." Callie agreed.

"And…you used to change in front of me, like, all of the time."

Callie seemed intrigued, more so than she ought to be. She waited, hoping her silence would coax Marie to keep talking.

"Sometimes I. I mean not often, or anything, and I'd never actually do something like this, but sometimes I thought about uh." She trailed off, mumbling the rest of her thought, "I thought about just making you do stuff…with me. Uh."

She blinked, taking a few seconds to process the information before coming up with the most appropriate and compassionate response she could think of, "well, why didn't you? That sounds hot."

"What-!" She covered her mouth, trying to keep herself quiet. "We were kids!"

"You'll do it now though, right? Because if you did it then you'd have to be quiet and make me be quiet so you didn't get in trouble so now is the perfect time."

"You're crazy."

"C'mooooon."

"You're serious."

"It would have been better than that weird time when I was dating that guy and we were in his car and I like you a lot more. Let's leave it at that."

Marie frowned, rolling off of Callie before sliding onto the floor to sit facing the door. "It's pretty late, Cal. Don't you think it's time we got dressed for bed?"

Callie sat up, wondering what she'd done to upset her. "But I'm already wearing my- ohhhh."

Marie rolled her eyes, waiting for Callie to stand up. This was neither the time nor the place, but she really didn't want to be here anyway. Once Callie was shirtless, she stood up herself, looming behind her, mindfully not touching her. Yet. "Hey."

Callie resisted the urge to close the gap between them. "Huh? What is it, Mar~?"

"How come you never told me you had a boyfriend?"

"Well it was a long time ago and– wait, wait. Don't laugh, I can hear you giggling."

She was. It was hard not to. She hugged Callie around the waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Why the big secret? I thought you told me everything."

She squirmed in Marie's arms, reminding herself she wasn't into it. Marie held her tighter. Callie bit her lip, pushing at Marie's wrist, "I dunno. I didn't think you'd care about stuff like that."

"How old is he?"

"What's it matter?" She said, trying to escape Marie's grip. She succeeded in turning around, covering her chest with one hand and trying to push Marie off with the other.

She grabbed Callie's wrist pulling her hips towards her own. "What kinda stuff have you done with him, huh?"

"Marie isn't this sorta yucky?"

"No. You told me we'd do everything together." She growled, leaning forward to try and kiss her. Callie uncovered her chest, placing her hand over Marie's mouth.

"Yeah but– hey, what are you doing, stop that." She dropped her hand from Marie's mouth, grabbing at her leg in a half hearted attempt to get Marie to stop rubbing against her. She couldn't help but give her a squeeze of encouragement, briefly sticking her tongue out at her. It was hard to keep character when Marie looked so serious, but she'd try anyway. "It feels weird, stop."

"Or what?"

"I'll yell! And and…"

"And get in trouble with me for letting me do this to you." Marie pressed her lips to Callie's so she couldn't tattle. She let go only long enough to yank her shirt off, grabbing Callie again the moment she was free. "Now lay down." She ordered, much to Callie's delight.

Her fantasies never involved her going all the way with Callie. Maybe she just thought she couldn't get away with taking things that far. Still, she tugged off her pants and crawled on top of Callie, covering her mouth once again.

"Is this the kinda thing you like to do with your boyfriend?" Marie demanded, rocking her hips against Callie's and flinching when the bed creaked. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. She could see Callie smiling behind her hand, amused at her reaction.

"Just for that little smirk I'm gonna keep my underwear on."

"Nooo~."

"And yours."

"Treating me like one of your pillows."

"That's gross."

She pulled Marie down, kissing her ear before whispering, "and so is this. Now keep going."

Marie nodded, hoping she could move a little quieter this time. The rest of the house was silent, but it was hard not to strain to hear any noise that might suggest they need to bail. Callie was far more confident nothing would happen, even with a little bed squeaking.

—---

Callie was the first to stir awake, smiling to herself as she felt Marie still resting on top of her. Marie had stayed the night, just as she had promised. Not that she really thought Marie would abandon her for the guest bedroom after their night together. She'd already complained about the sleeping arrangements and Callie knew she would have been more than happy to sleep on the floor if it meant she didn't have to sleep alone.

She could smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen, the comforting aroma of coffee reminding her of her dad heading off to work while she was getting ready for school. She didn't actually like coffee, but smelling it felt like home. And now she got to experience that with Marie. In her old house. In her old room. In her old bed. Callie lay there with her eyes closed, listening to her parents moving about the kitchen, running water, closing cupboards, talking quietly to one another so as not to wake the girls.

She rubbed Marie's back, trying to gently coax her awake. Marie let out a familiar groan of protest about getting out of bed so early. Callie didn't think her parents would feel the need to check on them, but she figured Marie would appreciate her being mindful of the risk.

Callie kissed the top of her head, whispering, "Marie, morning, breakfast. We gotta get dressed."

Marie hugged her tighter, shaking her head. Callie sat up anyway, knowing Marie would wake up enough to remember they weren't at the apartment.

She took a moment to admire Marie as she sat on her knees, swaying back and forth, dubiously awake.

Marie sniffled, scratching at the corners of her eyes before untangling her legs from the blanket and putting her feet on the floor.

"When we're older I think it might be nice to move back here, don't you think?"

Marie scowled, still rubbing at her eyes. "No, I don't."

"Don't miss home at all?"

Marie didn't answer. She leaned over the foot of the bed to pick up her pants that lay haphazardly discarded. Callie didn't press the issue further, standing up and stretching before she too began to dress.

She was quick to finish, bouncing to her door and out of her bedroom. Marie wasn't far behind, but she was in much less of a hurry. The coffee was tempting her, though.

"Morning!" She heard Callie say as she shuffled into the kitchen after her. Marie expected an equally bright reply, but all that followed was an uneasy silence.

The look of anger and disgust on her aunt's face made her blood run cold. There was no question about it. They knew. How? It didn't really matter, because they knew. They'd been found out. Somehow. Callie's mom was probably already suspicious of them, it was so obvious now. The looks, the comments about her needing to find a man to settle down with. To move out and away from Callie finally.

It was clear by Callie's reaction that she didn't understand what had made her parents so upset. She looked between them, a look of concern growing ever present on her face. "What's going on? What's wrong? Did something happen? Mom? Dad?" She looked frantically between them, trying to parse what was going on. Neither of them had ever looked at her this way before.

"Your mother was right about you." Callie's mother said, voice shaking with rage as she glared at Marie. "You're sick. You raped my daughter you disgusting–"

Callie's father was quick to try and de-escalate things, putting his hand on his wife's shoulder to physically turn her away from the two girls. Marie didn't know why he bothered. Maybe he just didn't want to upset Callie any further.

"You promised to be reasonable about this." He sounded pained and tired, eyes pleading for some kind of peace, anything.

"You're going to stand there and defend a rapist?"

"Charlotte, please…" He turned his attention to Marie, trying to change the subject at the worst possible moment. "Uh, Marie, you like chargers don't you? You used to be pretty good, I thought. Tell you what, we can head out together and you can show me what you've learned over the years."

She wasn't listening. Everything after "your mother was right about you" was nothing more than a high pitched whine in her ears. She wanted to comfort Callie, but she'd hurt Callie. This was her fault. She'd ruined Callie's life with her own sick desires.

Callie was yelling at her mom, who was yelling back.

Callie's dad once again seemed to try and intervene as Marie stood motionless, staring off into space.

Callie vanished into her room and slammed the door shut.

Marie was being led outside by her uncle.

—------

Her feet were moving on their own.

Gravel and dirt crunched softly under her feet.

He was trying to talk to her, but the words didn't make any sense.

She wanted Callie. She didn't deserve Callie.

The next thing she processed was a cold flask being pushed into her hands. She was sitting on a log at the edge of a small forest clearing. Her legs hurt, and she had no idea how long she'd been walking for. She and Callie used to come here for target practice when they were kids, dreaming of one day being real Squidbeak agents. They were, if she could remember, about a half an hour walk from Callie's house, but leading up to this had all felt like a blur.

"It'll help your nerves," her uncle said, patting her on the shoulder, "at least that's what we used to do back in the army."

Marie took a drink, coughing the instant the liquid hit her throat. It felt like she was drinking hot metal and paint thinner. Maybe at least part of that was true. It didn't calm her nerves, but it did make for one hell of a grounding technique.

"Yeah, thanks…for that," she said, once she could find her voice between coughing fits. "What the hell was that? Actually, y'know what, nevermind."

He laughed. Marie did not.

"Why are we out here?"

"Did you want to stay at home and get yelled at? I was getting yelled at about it all morning, and you don't want that."

Marie looked down at the grass, still wet with morning dew. She took a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. "Is Callie safe by herself?"

"She'll be alright. Her mom's not gonna hurt her."

"Yeah, and what about you?"

"I'm not gonna hurt Callie either."

"That's not… forget it."

Marie rubbed her arms, looking around. They were awfully far away from anyone who could help her. Not that she deserved help. She glanced up at him once more, trying to read his expression. He just looked…tired. Sad. His brow hung heavy with worry, but he was trying to put on some sort of a smile for her, much like Callie would have.

"Are you gonna kill me with that?" She asked, gesturing at the gun slung over his shoulder.

"What– Marie, I told you. We were going out to practice shooting. Spend some time together. Talk."

"Oh. Is that what you were saying…"

"Marie, I'm not," he stopped, considering his words, "I don't hate you."

"You should."

"Mm. And why is that?"

"I hurt your daughter."

"I don't think the word choice used was…uh, necessarily accurate." It was clear the topic made him deeply uncomfortable. He couldn't even look at her as he spoke.

Marie stood up, feeling like a child once again. They were the same height, more or less, but she still felt so small. So helpless. So pathetic. She'd destroyed her relationship with one of the closest things she had to a real parent who cared about her. Any other crime would have been forgivable, at least in her mind.

"I guess not. But I know where she got the idea from."

He raised an eyebrow, sliding the charger off his shoulder and holding it by the leather strap. He held it towards her, but Marie didn't take it.

"She talks to my mom a lot. I dunno why."

He lowered his hand, letting the gun barrel rest on the ground, swaying back and forth as it was held partially up. "And?"

"And my mom. She knows. She's known, rather."

"About you and Callie, er…"

"You don't have to say it. I know I'm disgusting. But, no, she didn't know that. Well, I'm sure she knows now." Marie rubbed tears from her eyes, determined not to cry in front of her uncle. She looked up, blinking rapidly to try and force them back.

He reached out, hugging her from the side and rubbing her arm. "Hey, hey, it's not. I mean. It's pretty small out here. Not a lot of folks. So it's not like you're the only one who dated their cousin. Even if you did end up moving away."

She looked down, hoping he wouldn't notice her crying for real now. "Mom used to smack me if she caught me looking at Callie for too long. She had me tested and stuff. She knows there's something wrong with me but she decided it was my problem.

He didn't understand, not really anyway. But Marie was hurting and he had to try and smooth things over. "You're good to her though, right?"

"I thought. But it's not like she has a choice. I'm a freak."

"Marie. When have you *ever* known Callie to do something she didn't want to?"

She sniffled, rubbing her eyes once more. "This is different."

"Not if you're being respectful about it. Look, I'm not gonna pretend I understand why either of you would do this. And I'm not gonna say I don't think it's gross."

It hurt to hear, but it was the truth. Gross is what they were. What *she* was. Callie didn't deserve to be roped into this with her.

"But I also think people who eat salmonid eggs are gross. And that's got nothing to do with me."

"Those things aren't even similar."

"I'm trying here. I don't think you're a bad kid. I really don't understand none of this, but you're both gonna do whatever you want anyway. I still wanna have my daughter talk to me. And if that means going along with all of this, well." He sighed, shaking his head.

Marie pulled away, guilt gnawing at her insides, anxiety making her tremble. She'd hurt every single person she cared about because of her own selfishness. She'd single handedly ruined Callie's life.

—---

Uncle Craig let her sit and decompress for a while, occupying himself by taking shots with the Bamboozler at nearby trees. Marie was disappointed when she gradually began to realize the world hadn't ended. She'd even managed to stop crying.

Marie never imagined a world where someone wouldn't just…hate her. With every part of their being. But he didn't. He might have just hid it well, but he didn't seem the type smart enough to lie like that. What would be the point?

Rubbing her eyes, she stood up and approached the main, standing slightly behind him and to the side. "It's a nice charger. Wish I had something like that to look forward to."

"Are you breaking up with Callie?"

Marie tried to listen to any hit of hopefulness, but there was none. "Uh. Look I'll be honest. No. I'm not. Well, it would be up to her but. Y'know."

"Then maybe you do have something like this to look forward to."

"You're joking."

"I just want whatever Callie wants. But you're still too young. And not married."

"Uh, well, we can't *get* married, so." She made a vague gesture with her hand, dropping it to her side.

"Oh, right. But I'll know. I guess a paper isn't the only deciding factor. Settling down with someone is more than that. So, I'll know when Callie has done that."

Marie hummed in response. He offered her the Charger without a word. This time, she took it.

The wood was freshly polished, and it was unusually weighty compared to its more modern counterparts. It had a rich burgundy color unlike anything Marie had seen elsewhere. The trigger was a heavy pull, the charge time felt almost as long as her e-liter that was long forgotten in a closet thanks to her schedule and energy level. She aimed down the sights, still carefully calibrated for an accurate shot, though with none of the modern convenience of a scope. Marie fired at the tree next to the one Uncle Craig had been shooting at, and landed a splatter of green ink just shy of its approximate center.

"Can I ask you something?" Marie began to line up another shot, slightly higher this time.

"Sure, squiddo."

"How come you…knew?"

"Ehhhhhh Charlie wanted to check up on Callie like old times. See her little girl back in her own bed."

"Why didn't she kill me at that point?" She asked, firing another shot, this one overcorrected and still shy of center.

"Came and woke me up. Wanted to make sure she wasn't imagining things. I convinced her to give you guys a chance to explain things."

"Went well."

"Yep."

"My phone's still in Callie's room I think."

"Wanted to call her?"

"Just worried is all." She lowered the gun, looking down at the ink that dripped onto the grass from the barrel.

"We can go back, if you want. Probably calmer at home now."

She nodded, turning towards her uncle to return the gun to him. He slung it back over his shoulder before giving Marie a pat on the back.

"Do you think we could…talk? Later, I mean. After me and Callie go home. Maybe in a few days if she's up to it. Obviously we're not staying another night. Uh. No offense or anything."

"Sure, whatever you need. I still care about you."

Marie nodded, wiping her hands off on her pants. Hopefully Callie had already packed and would just be waiting outside. She doubted it would be that easy, nothing ever was. But at least now, for now, she had backup.

#aohota #hotaao #i don't have a creep fic tag still whoops #callie x marie #situations but they're normal in a way that hurts

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chromotps · 5 months

Text

#saw this and thought it’d be up your alley^^#very star crossed vibes haha

oh!! tbh i don't know if i've ever gotten a submission before haha i hope this works right

[steeples my hands] this is up my alley... the poetry... ace acknowledging luffy and even sabo are somehow different from him... the idea that ace is in the echoes around luffy all the time......

but also. I am a big soft depressed weenie (especially after getting off work lmaO) so i have to make ace happy eventually—EDIT: I got a second wind and wanted to stretch my writing muscles, so... Have a wild drabble!!

Even as it set, the sun's light washed over Luffy like honey: rich and copious. It was something Ace couldn't lift from his brother's skin no matter how hard he imagined. Luffy was meant to be like this, golden.

Ace knew it was an odd thought, but he couldn't help it. They were sharing a rare quiet moment at the hill where they'd wept for Sabo. Now, with Ace's departure drawing near, he found his mind meandering down strange, overly sentimental paths, especially when it came to his brother.

Breaking himself out of the pattern, Ace unwound a hand from where it'd been wrapped around his knees, and gave a cursory yank—tugging on the tattered, too-big hat resting against Luffy's back.

"You don't really need this thing, do you?" he said. "You never get burnt."

Luffy, interrupted from idly pulling at the grass around him, looked up with an affronted expression. "Of course I need it! It was a gift from—"

"From Red-Hair, yeah, yeah, I know." Ace sighed. "I'm not saying it's not important to you, relax. Just that you don't need it—the sun doesn't bother you."

Luffy tilted his head, goofy preteen face squinting at the clarification. As if he had to think of everything in concrete terms, Luffy pulled the hat off his back, holding it in his hands so he could contemplate it.

A grin spread across his face. "I guess you're right! I'm still glad I have it, though." His smile was dazzling; Ace didn't look away, but his heart suffered a pang for the lack of action.

"It's a part of my dream, like you said." Luffy nodded. "As long as I have this, I'll know I'm on my way to becoming the most amazing pirate ever!" He looked at Ace then, grin turning impish. He'd probably been swept up by another one of his dumb ideas.

"Hey, Ace, you should start calling me 'Captain Luffy.' It'll help me get ready!"

"Pfft." Ace grabbed the hat from Luffy, and stuffed it back over his brother's head. Luffy couldn't see his fond smile, whining like he was from beneath the wide brim.

Ace held the smile while he spoke over Luffy's whine. "As if. Try that again when you've actually got a crew to boss around, and your own ship."

"Aww. C'mon," Luffy sighed. He sounded put-out, but he didn't refuse Ace's next unspoken offer: the older teen knelt, facing away from Luffy, arms lifted back to accept his brother's weight.

He didn't need to say anything at this point, the two of them so used to the tradition. Ace would carry Luffy, piggy-back, to Dadan's at the end of the day. Luffy climbed into his hold easily, chin resting over Ace's shoulder, childish pout still in place.

"I'm gonna do it some day, you know." So petulant.

"Sure," Ace said. It sounded dismissive, but he didn't actually have any doubt in his mind. He knew he'd lose Luffy to that dream eventually.

His brother might be right here in his arms, and they'd wake up tomorrow close enough to touch, like always. But Ace knew he'd never really belong at Luffy's side. He didn't belong at Sabo's, or his mother's, or Dadan's; but he especially wasn't meant for Luffy's.

They entered the forest, everything dimming in the earthy shade. Luffy was drowsy at his back. Ace's overactive brain thought that only made sense. The sun would naturally retreat, with night coming on.

Twilight gave way to dusk; a branch snapped somewhere in their vicinity, and Luffy tensed ever so slightly against Ace's back.

Well, Ace couldn't have that. And so he hummed. If nothing else, he could do this for the brother he couldn't keep. He'd make sure Luffy stayed safe and grew up strong. That way, if he ever faced something dark on the path to his dreams, he'd have a song in his heart instead of fear.

"S'not even that sunny," Luffy mumbled. Ace paused, turning his head slightly, but it wasn't like he could get a clear look at Luffy right now.

He kept on walking, but asked, "What was that?"

Luffy sighed. His tired, warm voice drifted by Ace's ear. "I don't really need the hat, 'cause we spend most of our time together here. In the forest... Right?"

He sniffed sleepily and then continued, "The sun doesn't really reach us here. N... Nothin' does." In what seemed like a total leap in logic, Luffy then said, "You don't really have to call me 'Captain.' When it's just you 'n' me..." Luffy yawned. "...none of that other stuff matters, 'kay? I'm just Luffy, and you're just Ace. S'all there is."

Ace blinked.

He squeezed Luffy's leg in his grip, and kept walking.

#submission #thank you!!#please excuse my post work moping #i am off to watch cute shoujo anime w some friends and eat fresh baked cookies which will literally fix me #acelu #?#for my own blog sorting purposes if nothing else haha

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michaelmilligan · 1 year

Text

The House Mouse

(I know it's been like three hundred years, but I haven't forgotten this post @klayr-de-gall @paradisecas)

It was a lazy evening, spent on the couch watching Netflix.

Michael had offered to take them to Jupiter instead, but they'd only just been there a few days ago, and besides, lazy was good sometimes. It was great to go sightseeing, on this planet or another. But they'd built themselves this house for a reason, and at times Adam just wanted to make use of it.

Adam's feet were on the coffee table and his arm was over the back of the couch, almost touching Michael's projection next to him.

“Maybe we should get a cat,” he said, watching the cats on screen purring as they got pet.

The eyes of Michael's projection darted towards Adam, then back at the TV. “They seem to be very difficult to train,” he cautioned.

“Yeah, but we wouldn't have to train the cat. Just get it to like us.” A corner of Adam's mouth quirked upwards as he angled his head towards Michael. “I have some experience at being patient with a dangerous creature.”

Unimpressed, Michael only slightly raised an eyebrow. “Are you comparing me to a cat?”

“Well.” Adam stretched his arms, then sank a little further against the back of the couch. “You are pretty dangerous and most people probably wouldn't understand your body language.”

Michael huffed. “My body language?”

“Yeah. Like how you flare your wings when you're angry? Or how your grace pulses when you're happy. Or-”

“I see,” Michael interrupted him, frowning.

“Or how your projection frowns when you're embarrassed,” Adam finished, grinning.

Michael gave him a playful glare. “Do you want me to list your ticks in body language now?”

“Oh, geez, no. I would probably die of embarrassment or something!”

Michael huffed out a laugh. Well, it was more a huff than a laugh, but as just proven, Adam knew how to read him.

“So. Cat?” Adam asked again, not because he had any urgent need to get a pet – it was just a spontaneous idea – but to see how Michael would react.

To his surprise, Michael actually seemed thoughtful.

“Harriet might not like it,” he finally said, and... what?

“Who?” Adam asked, confused.

“Harriet,” Michael repeated, projection swivelling towards him. He frowned. “You know, the mouse? You saw her yesterday.”

Adam opened his mouth, but no sound came out, so he closed it again. After taking a moment to compose himself, he tried again. “The mouse?? That thing that scared me to death yesterday?!”

Michael sighed. “You're being overly dramatic.”

“Overly- that thing just shot out from underneath the drawers and-”

“That's not true,” Michael interrupted him. “Her refuge is behind the drawer, not underneath it. There's a hole in the wall and-”

“Oh, there's a hole in my fucking bedroom wall! Great!”

“Adam, you've survived Hell. I'm sure you can deal with a mouse,” Michael chastised him. “And Harriet is very friendly. Once you get to know her-”

“Know her? That's a mouse, Michael. Why did you even name it?” Adam asked, exasperated.

“I didn't. That's just her name – or an approximation of it in human language, anyway.”

“Wh- approximation? What does that even- wait, you speak mouse??”

“I can understand and communicate with most animals on this planet,” Michael said, seeming a bit offended. Then he suddenly turned thoughtful again. “It works better with creatures whose shape is closer to my true form, like deep sea squids, though that can also lead to misunderstandings...”

“Oh, good. My archangel's a freaking Disney Princess.” Adam groaned and leaned back into the couch again, this time in a decidedly less relaxed slump.

“Don't be ridiculous, Adam,” Michael said, and a corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “I don't even own a pan. Or magic hair, for that matter.”

“You're a menace,” Adam muttered from underneath the arm he'd slung over his face.

“To society? Occasionally.” Michael shifted on the couch, until he was looking down at Adam, who turned his gaze from the ceiling to him. “So are you going to be nice to Harriet or not?”

“Christ on a cracker. You're really friends with a mouse.”

“Well, you're the one who keeps talking abut expanding our circles and what not.” Michael frowned down at him.

“Yeah, I was thinking more of, like, people. But knock yourself out, I guess.” Adam sighed. “So are you gonna introduce me to your new bestie?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Adam. You're still my best friend. And Harriet is just a mouse. Most of her conversation topics revolve around food, and where to find it.” Michael weighed his head thoughtfully. “Then again, your interests are not that different...”

Adam kicked him, which only worked because Michael let him. “Don't you dare compare me to a mouse.”

“Well. Comparatively...”

“Yeah yeah, comparatively I'm a bug.” Adam rolled his eyes.

“Yes. In many ways, humans are like cockroaches.”

“... Go on and you're sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“I don't sleep.” Michael raised an eyebrow at him. “And may I remind you that we share a body, so essentially you would be sleeping on the couch.”

“Ugh.” Adam grabbed a cushion from the end of the couch to throw it at Michael, but it sailed right through his projection.

Michael grinned smugly.

Adam's life continued much the same as it had before, except that now he sometimes saw evidence of a mouse in the house. The tap-tap of itsy bitsy feet on hardwood floors. A bag of chips with a hole in it and half the contents gone. And, worst of all, the droppings of a mouse, though Michael eventually agreed to remove those as they happened.

After a while, Adam got in the habit of leaving food out for the mouse when they left the house. Sometimes, they got back to find Harriet sitting on the plate, sniffing curiously in their direction.

Adam never actually saw Michael talk to her, though sometimes he nodded sagely when Harriet squeaked. To be honest, Adam was half convinced Michael was making that whole 'speaking mouse language' thing up to troll him.

But then one morning, he caught them in conversation.

“We need to be quiet so we don't wake Adam up,” Michael was saying as Adam opened his eyes.

Usually, Michael would immediately notice that Adam was awake. But sometimes, when he focused very hard on his projection to make it corporeal, it could take Michael a while to realize whatever was going on with their real body.

That seemed to be happening now, since Adam heard sizzling like from a pan, indicating that Michael was interacting with something.

Namely, kitchenware.

“Hm? Oh, no, Adam prefers chocolate chip. It's not very good for him in the long run, but he always makes this face when I suggest to use banana instead, you know,” Michael continued conversationally.

Adam knew exactly what face he meant. And of course he knew that banana was healthier than chocolate, at the end of the day. Did that really matter, though, when he had a trusty archangel who kept him from getting ill, or old?

Adam could have interrupted Michael and Harriet, but he was kind of curious where else this conversation (if it was one, since he only heard Michael) would go.

“Oh, yeah. You can have a bit of banana, hold on,” Michael rambled on. “You know, I've been thinking. You're allowed to stay here, so you're the house mouse. And me, well... Adam says that housewife is the most common term for this, but that fits about as much as house husband. I prefer house spouse, myself.”

Adam snorted. They'd had this conversation before, Michael insisting he was the stay-at-home-partner because he didn't work. As if they weren't always together, including when Adam was at his job.

It was true that Michael didn't work, always keeping in the background during those hours. Then again, he was the reason why Adam never got tired, or hungry, so in a way he contributed to their income.

“Adam?” Michael suddenly asked, obviously having heard his snort.

Sighing, Adam stepped into the kitchen, to find Michael making pancakes with Harriet by his side.

“Morning. You guys having fun?”

“Neither of us is a 'guy', strictly speaking. But yes.” Michael nodded.

Harriet squeaked in what might have been approval.

“So you're the house spouse and the house mouse, huh?” Adam asked, walking towards the breakfast island, where Michael served him the pancakes. “Thanks, honey.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Don't call me that. I'm not sweet.”

“Aw, but you are. You made me pancakes.” Adam took a bite, and felt like kissing Michael – once he'd finished his food. “This is awesome.”

Michael nodded. “As it should be, coming from a house spouse.”

“Babe... you don't even need a house. I mean, in a way, I'm your house, since you live inside me.” Adam just thought it was weird. Not necessarily the term itself, which was fine, but for Michael to call himself that.

“You're more than a house, Adam. You're... my temple.”

“Oh my God. We're not doing that clean eating bullshit,” Adam said firmly, fearing the worst.

But Michael just laughed. “I was thinking more along the lines of 'I should have worshipped you sooner'.”

“Oh.” Adam grinned. “Well, I am the giggle at a funeral. Possibly even at my own.”

Michael snorted. “I'd really rather you not die again. Granted, for someone related to Sam and Dean, two times isn't really a lot, but...” He shrugged.

“Yeah, no. Three is not the charm in that case.” As he continued to eat, Adam's eyes fell on Harriet, who was busy with a piece of banana. “So if she's a house mouse... does that mean this is a mouse house?”

“Now you're just being ridiculous,” Michael said as he miracled the pan clean. “But since you're so small compared to me, that makes you the mouse spouse.”

Adam rolled his eyes, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

#Me finally getting this done? It's more likely than you think.#This is kinda crack-ish but also I love Harriet and you can pry her from my cold dead hands #Fluffy fluff fluff #Midam #House spouse Michael my beloved #And mouse spouse Adam my utmost beloved

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

Text

whiskey business - john x reader (part 3 of ?)

gif by @michaelgreys but i cropped it cause god daMn 👀

read part one and two! | my masterlist

a/n: this one goes out to all my john bitches!! i know it's hard out here, we get no new content but this part is steamy as hell. its not over yet, though! i'm a sucker for happy endings, ok? i hope you all like it, i'm still working on requests as i go :) much love to @stxdyblr-2k for ghostwriting on this series, she has the most amazing ideas in the world 🖤

love, abi xxx

tagging: @datewithgianni

prompt: john's been ignoring you and you want to know why.

warnings: fluff, angst, nsfw!! smut, cocky john, just straight up porn at the end but can you blame me

John hadn't spoken a word in your direction for a week. Despite constantly seeing you glued to Ada's hip, he’d barely acknowledged you since the wedding. He didn’t even bother looking up. Instead his jaw tensed, taking longer inhales of smoke, constantly examining the pocket watch dangling from his right hip. You were the last person John wanted to see right now. He couldn’t get you out of his head, the flush of your cheeks as you had moaned for him imprinted in his memory. You were fucking picturesque writhing around in his lap, a mess for him, and only him. He’d never felt like this; never wanted someone so badly it hurt. Usually, he drowned what little emotions he had in the nearest bottle of whiskey. You, however, were igniting something inside him he’d never felt. Lust, yes, but it was more. A yearning, a need, to see you smile at his crap jokes for the rest of his fucking life. God, you were getting to him.

His coldness and distance towards you hadn't gone unnoticed. To John’s embarrassment, his brothers regularly referred to it as "a little tiff", usually when you were within earshot, as they loved embarrassing his brother. They were blissfully unaware of the full story, assuming his cockiness had put you off him. He sometimes wondered the same; even though you remained polite by greeting him despite the minimal nod he responded with, you seemed ashamed. John only hoped it wasn't because you were ashamed of him. The truth was, he couldn't get the intensity between the two of you off his mind. Whenever he so much as caught a glimpse of you, he remembered how pretty you looked begging for him, then the embarrassment of having to reject you out of family loyalty. You admitting you wanted to have sex with him, him getting fucked off at you because you were off your face, complicating everything. Yet, every night, he held your words close to him, trying to decipher them.

He knew his brothers wouldn't get it. They wouldn't understand how tragic it was; they'd think it was funny that Ada's best friend wanted to fuck him. Either way, John would always rather put himself in the firing line of his brother's jokes than risk your reputation being blemished. He just couldn't look at you without a wave of guilt and sexual attraction flowing through his veins, causing his jaw to clench and his shoulders to stiffen, his suit jacket expertly covering strain on the crotch of his trousers.

A full week had passed since the wedding, of a man Tommy had recruited in an assassination effort. It was embarrassing how his family used money to attempt to push the trauma they created under the carpet. He knew he didn't have room to talk, but fuckin’ hell, a wedding? Maybe Tommy should've just not hired him to blow the brains out of his own father. Well, it was one way to get rid of the police commissioner who got too nosey, John guessed.

He had hoped that you were a passing phase of infatuation. He’d had many before; he’d been notorious around Birmingham for his conquests. Sure, it was possible he had just gotten overly excited and intoxicated around a beautiful girl. Yet, in the quiet moments of his life, in between his kids and business, his mind was only on you. You, straddling him in that booth, the way you grinned at him as he approached you at the wedding party. Sometimes when he was driving home, his mind would drift off thinking of the feeling of your figure pressed against him, the feel of your lips, your laugh, the sound of your heaving breaths against his ear. You haunted him the most at night, visions of you with his name on your lips in his silk sheets. You were his forbidden fruit, dangling barely out of reach.

***

John was at his desk, paperwork long abandoned in favour of whiskey and a cigar, lost in his own thoughts. The loud tapping of rain and the wind of the storm outside shook the windows, yet John felt somewhat at peace; a temporary peace, but he could unwind. Just his desk, the moonlight, the gas lamp illuminating his empty glass and the heavy English rain for company. He found far more joy in the simplicity of life than his brothers, who reeked of new money. He liked his things the way they were, it all worked, but he had to admit he was a sucker for a good suit. The kids were long in bed, the nanny to comfort their nightmares. It made him feel like a shit father, and he didn't want to be like his useless dad. He had started resenting the life Thomas was forcing him to live; the booze, the partying, the Tokyo, the fighting. It was wearing on him. He needed a break from everyone in this town, he reckoned.

However, a certain unexpected guest was always welcome to him. You had just drifted across his mind when a firm knock at the door caught his attention. He straightened his tie, leaving his legs outstretched and crossed on the dark oak desk, calling for the visitor to enter.

There you were. Dripping from head to toe, but still as beautiful as ever to him, despite your damp hair and slightly smudged makeup. You had caught him off guard, and in his surprise, he couldn't suppress the cheeky grin which spread across his face.

"Got caught in the storm, eh? I'll put the fire on and pour you a drink yeah? Warm you up." He slurred slightly, springing into action, lighting the fire and going to fill two glasses with whiskey, which you politely refused.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Mr. Shelby."

He decides he won't either. He tried to ignore your piercing gaze, motioning you to sit across his desk from him, reaching to put the whiskey in his drawer. "That's not like you. Where you headed, love? That lecture with Ada?"

"I came to see you."

He noted your firm tone, the flirty smile, the coy eye contact.

"What's the occasion?"

"You've been avoiding me." You told him bluntly, his cheeks reddening, eye contact breaking momentarily.

"Yeah, I know." He took a draw from his cigar, rolling the smoke from between his lips on the exhale. "M’sorry."

You watched him for a moment and he met your eyes, suddenly softened from his usual icey blue inquisitive stare. To shame, he looked so vulnerable right now. You could feel yourself falling for him again. This is what you hung around for, the fleeting glimpses of the authentic John Shelby. The lad you'd first giggled about in the girl's bathroom at lunch, barely knowing what sex was. Barely understanding power and politics. Unaware of who you'd both end up as.

"You're fucking soaked to the bone. Come on, I'll put your clothes to dry by the fire. And don't give me that look, I'll give you my coat to save your modesty, lass." He teased. You ignored the way his muscles flexed as he reached for his woolen jacket, some outrageously expensive tailored affair from some London boutique, his large rough hands brushing your fingers. "I'll turn around."

You grasped the coat, heading to the fireplace and warming up for a moment, checking that you were far from his line of sight. This was a dangerous game for you both. You wished he'd grab you, take you on his desk and finish what he started, but the way he absentmindedly drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited indicated that he was restraining himself.

You'd rid yourself of your thin jacket, bought from the market stall last week, effortlessly trendy but an imitation of the pricey stuff Ada and the blinder wives and girlfriends you knew. You were jealous of their fur coats, they were always warm and glamorous looking even on the coldest winter night in Birmingham.

You glanced across the room to John. He was staring intently at the wall lost in thought, teeth gritted.

"John? Could you unzip me?" You asked, purposefully making your voice sound as neutral as possible, looking at him over your shoulder.

He paused, bringing his fingers to rub circles against his jaw. You caught a glimpse of white teeth and dimples as he glanced at you out the corner of his eye and you can't help but match his coy grin. He pushed himself off the desk and quickly closed the small distance towards you, his hand finding first your shoulder then the zip at the nape of your neck, your breath hitching as he pulled the zip to your waist. You could feel his eyes tracing the curvature of your spine and hips. You both hesitated for a moment, before John’s warm fingertips grazed your waist, lips pressing into your hair affectionately. His mouth found his way to your ear, cheekbone, jaw and then neck, encouraged by the way your left hand cradled his head as you pressed your body back into his and how your eyes drifted shut at his touch.

"Sweetheart, why did you come here?" He muttered into your ear, his words and casual affection causing your core to swell in response.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you. I've barely slept in a week, feel terrible. Then you've been ignoring me-"

"It isn't personal, Y/N. You know this isn’t how I want it to be." His hands found their way to your waist, gripping lightly at your hip bones, sending a shiver down your back.

"Well this is how it is, John. It's never going to be any different. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"What are you fucking on about, love?"

"I reckon that just once can't hurt, nobody would know but us. Then we can both move on with our lives..."

John hesitated, "What about Ada?" His head rested on your shoulder, the scent of your sweet perfume causing him to want you even more. Jesus, he was too far gone.

"We were so close the first night I got here and we didn't. No one caught on then, why would it be different now?"

He wanted to trust you so badly, it ached inside of him. He wanted to feel you around him, make you cum for him again and again, for you to be breathless and shaking under him. He wanted to give you everything he could, even if just once. But he couldn't.

"She's my sister. Family is everything; if I don't have them, I’ve got nothin’." He stated firmly, yet his palms lingered on your hips, the liquor destroying his perception of the distinction between friendly touching and actions that made you swallow deeply and pray for relief.

"You have me for tonight." You pulled away from him, ignoring the groan that escaped from his lips at the loss of contact. You locked your eyes with his blue ones and pushed the straps of your dress from your shoulders, allowing the damp material to pool around your feet, standing in front of the man you'd wanted for years. It was now or never.

He stayed silent, watching you, eyes not leaving yours, challenging you for a brief moment before his eyes flickered over your figure.

"Is it such a crime to want to fuck you?" You asked, the silk of your skimpy underwear forcing John to wipe the corner of his mouth absentmindedly as he drank you in, mumbling profanities under his breath. Yet, despite the glances and his sudden frustration, you could tell you had him. His eyes were feral and hungry, daring you to keep pushing him. His shoulders were squared, he was ready for action. The crackling firelight illuminated you beautifully; you were irresistible to him.

"It's not a crime. Where'd you get this backbone from?" He asked, reaching for you but you stepped away, teasing him.

"University up north does sommet to a woman."

"You can fuck off or fuck me with that attitude."

"The latter if you behave yourself, Mr Shelby."

He smirked at you, holding his hands up in mock surrender, before wrapping his coat around your shoulders, pulling you towards him by the back of the collar. "You've got a mouth on you, love. You gonna put it to good use?"

"I was told months ago that you'd sort me out, John-" Your speech was interrupted by a small squealing giggle as he tugged at your hair lightly for mocking his voice, his eyes bright and crinkled at the edges due to his grin. "I'm disappointed with these delays, especially from the Shelby Company."

"Well, as the boss, I'll sort it for you, personally and immediately. Let me make it up to you, lass," John crooned, his lips meeting yours once again, fingers pushing your thighs apart, still clad in your black stockings and garter belt. "This is where we got up to last time, yes?"

"Yes Mr. Shelby, I believe so."

He pressed his lips and teeth against where your jaw met your neck, tracing his index and middle fingers over the silk of your underwear which covered your slit. You couldn’t help but lean into him, a slight hiss escaping your teeth.

"You like that, huh? You're fuckin’ soaked for me already, love," John muttered against your neck, lifting your left leg to hook around his waist, easily lifting you onto his desk, scattering loose papers and heavy accounting books onto the floor in his urgency to feel your bare skin on his. "They teach you how to push a bloke over the edge at that fancy university?"

"No, I figured that out on my own actually."

"Always knew you were bright," He smirked, quickly ridding you of your flimsy panties, the pads of his fingertips hot against your thighs. "Always going for the ones smarter than me, Tommy reckons it's not difficult."

"Your brother's chatting shit, he's not the one ‘bout to fuck me on his desk, yeah?" You shot back, opening your thighs to encourage him, your cunt exposed, cutting off John’s laugh. He couldn’t help but stare, eyes glued to your dripping cunt. "You're my favourite brother, always have been. If you tell Finn, I'll kill you," You teased.

"Come off it," John grunted in reply, unable to restrain pressing kisses to your inner thighs, your head tilting back, fingers desperately clutching at his hair. “Need t’get a proper taste of you, yeah? Look so fuckin’ sweet for me.” His mouth reached your core, slowly dipping his tongue into you, causing your mouth to fall open in ecstasy. God, his lips were even softer than they looked. His movements switched from light and teasing to purposeful and focused, his fingers curled and pumping inside you, tongue and thumb attacking your clit. He'd gotten on his knees, your legs wrapped around his neck as he groaned into your cunt, causing you to buck your hips wildly at the sensation, moans falling out of your mouth.

“Fuckin’ christ, John,” You swore, feeling yourself pulsate and twitch around his nimble fingers, crying out into the empty office building. You were getting so close, your hips jerking independently, chest heaving as you gasped for air. You were quickly getting overstimulated, you were so close. Before you could finish, John raised his head back to yours, letting you taste yourself on his mouth, his hands moving from your cunt to your tits, finger tips tracing the outline of your nipples through your silk bra.

"If we get to do this once, I want to feel you finish on my cock, doll," John grunted in a hushed tone, pointedly moving his lips to your collarbone when you opened your mouth to argue back to him.

"Then I get to ride you." Your statement took him by surprise; most women he'd slept with seemed fairly passive in bed. Sure they enjoyed themselves, but they never took control. He could feel himself swell in response to your words. He'd never been put in this position; he was a stranger to it, but the idea was thrilling and wickedly seductive. Especially from someone who was the epitome of "girl-next-door" as they were growing up.

"Polly reckoned you'd be trouble since Ada told us you'd returned. Don't mind getting into trouble with you, though," He teased, his plump mouth dipping to your cleavage, unclasping your bra, tongue circling your hardening nipples.

"John, fuckin’ christ, need you to finish me off, yeah?" You begged, voice shaking, much to his amusement, his fingers re-entering you roughly. John pressed open-mouthed kisses to your neck, soothing your body from the sharp sensation, the slight pain exacerbating the pleasure arising from his mouth and fingers.

"I've barely started with you, and already you're begging for me to fuck you." He muttered into your skin, as he watched you writhe and lift your hips, reacting beautifully to the feelings he was reawakening within you.

"John, m’not fucking about, yeah? I need you," You whined, hand resting on his inner thigh, fingers grazing the fastenings across his groin, gazing up at him from your seat on his desk. John hated waiting for relief, he had very little patience, and almost immediately he gave in and collapsed into his large armchair, pulling you on top of him, letting you pin his wrists to the chair and grind against him as your mouth found his, then his neck, removing his waistcoat, shirt and tie, revealing his muscular chest. The bruising kisses you pressed to his skin left him breathless and needing more, helping you unbuckle his belt and push his suit trousers down his legs. You couldn’t help but take him into your hand, moving it up and down his sensitive shaft.

“Christ, you’re too fuckin’ good at this,” John groaned as you spit on your palm to better move your hand up and down his cock, teasing the sensitive tip with your fingers and tongue. He couldn’t help but watch you, keeping eye contact as you toyed with him, blue eyes heavy with pleasure and lust for more.

You angled your hips above him and he adjusted himself, using his hand to better push himself inside you. You yelped lightly as you adjusted to his girth, his mouth distracting you by pressing kisses on your shoulder and tangling his hands through your hair, trying to control his breaths as you adjusted to him, soft moans falling from your mouth, your tight cunt gripping his cock.

“S’fuckin’ perfect, like your pussy was made for me,” he groaned, breath growing heavier with the sensation of you grinding against him. Pushing his hips up into you, he couldn’t help but grab at your hip bones, grip burning into your skin, bouncing you on his cock, mouth slightly slack, groaning as he grasped at your flesh. You’d imagined hundreds of times how fucking irresistible John would look underneath you, but it was nothing compared to the real thing.

The thrill of having John Shelby with his trousers down in his office, quickly dissolving into a moaning and grunting mess with every rotation or twist of your hips, in the midst of a stormy night while the thunder echoed around the empty streets below was almost too much to take. You should be home right now, curled up in that empty unheated flat, behaving yourself. Even on a date or fucking someone else. But instead you'd gone to him and now you were riding him. You wanted the moment to last forever, right now everything felt so right, you knew when it was over the guilt would hit. But you couldn't avoid it, you could feel your legs start to shake.

“Look so god damn pretty ridin’ me, love. Makin’ me wanna cum inside you.” John growled, panting, struggling to keep pace as you moaned on top of him. Your fingers found his jawline and guided him to look up at you, craving to see how his face looked when he finally came undone. He reached between your legs, torturing your clit with his fingers while he slammed into you a few extra times, using up the rest of his energy. The extra stimulation pushed you over the edge, crying out John’s name as you felt yourself release. Watching you whine his name was the last straw for him, spilling into you as your dripping cunt squeezed him, reveling in the image of you a mess for him.

***

You finally came back to your senses, catching your breath, John clutching you to his chest protectively for a minute or two, enjoying the tranquility and post-sex clarity. He checked his clock, sighing and lifting you from his lap to his desk, running a towel under the sink in the corner of his room and passing it to you to clean up between your legs with.

"Charming," You smirked, tired but satisfied. "No wonder the ladies always come back for more."

"Not you though, aye? One night only exclusive, this." He matched your playful tone, but his eyes were dull with exhaustion and he looked almost upset. He was probably just knackered after working all day and then going overtime just to please you.

"Make yourself useful and grab my clothes for me John-lad." You teased, thankfully changing the subject. He rolled his eyes in the waning firelight, locating the clothes the two of you had left scattered around the room. You quickly dressed, not caring how he watched you silently, as though trying to memorize the image of you. Your clothes were far drier than earlier, the last remaining remnants of damp clutching to the fibers and freezing you all over again. Yet before you could even comment, John's wool coat was wrapped back around your shoulders.

"Because you're cold, not because you look fuckable in it." He said pointedly, smirking slightly, the edges seeming artificial.

"Remind me not to fall madly in love with you. Won't be able to help myself if you keep talking like that, Mr. Shelby." You retorted sarcastically with a grin, earning a gentle dig to the ribs.

"It's Mr. Shelby if you're trying to fuck me. John is between friends and family, right?"

"Someone better inform Mr. Solomons of that distinction, then," You paused, "Mr. Shelby."

"Don't be a fucking cocktease." He scolded with a small grin, grabbing his car keys and hat from the door. "You want a lift then? Don't dick about being polite, Y/N, it's fucking midnight, just accept it."

"Since you asked so nicely."

"You know you've got worse since you've been at uni? Too fast for us lot now." He teased, half serious, as he led you to his car. He couldn't believe the beautiful woman in his passenger seat was the girl with pigtails who'd chase Ada around the canal with their girl gang for hours, the pretty teen who read for hours in his sister's bedroom, comparing notes together. No one was surprised you got a scholarship to university, despite your gender and class. You'd been incredibly lucky. Yet, you'd seen the world and had come back to Birmingham and picked him.

Shame you could only pick him once.

#john shelby imagine #john shelby x reader #john shelby smut #john shelby fluff #john shelby #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders x reader #john shelby masterlist #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders masterlist

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tartagliaxx · 3 years

Note

i really liked your hcs of the genshin boys with the slime!! it was cute 🥺 and got me thinking on how they'd be with a pet that didn't like them, i was thinking a more traditional pet like a dog or cat though. i'd like to request this with the characters used in the slime request. also by a pet that doesn't like them i mean one that isn't violent just growls at them, ignores their commands, only likes your affection, stuff like that tysm! have a nice day 🥰

" DREADED PET COURTING STAGE "

━━ ☆ INCLUDES: zhongli, diluc, kaeya, childe

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: thoughts on how the genshin boys would react to your pet disliking them + how they would win them over.

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: none

— zhongli;

he probably first caught sight of you as he was walking along the harbor.

you were feeding the stray cats and it's no secret that they were all very fond of you.

that also means that zhongli knew from early on that you had an affinity for cats (or animals in general as he later finds out).

he admired your gentle soul and it was probably one of the bullets in his 'reasons why i adore you so much' list.

a month into your relationship, you decided to introduce him to your pet cat.

to be honest, he doesn't particularly have a keen interest in them but you were so adorably giddy at the prospect of your two loves meeting that he couldn't resist.

zhongli is aware that he's not the type of person animals would trust immediately.

but even he believed that he wasn't that bad.

so it came as a surprise when your cat hissed at him as soon as he placed one foot in your doorway.

for a good five minutes, all three of you were unmoving, completely in shock and unsure.

you simply laughed nervously, picking up your cat and keeping them close to your chest as it made various high-pitched sounds, none of them being friendly.

zhongli was bewildered and you attempted to placate him by saying that your cat was simply in one of their 'moods'.

for a while, he accepted that explanation.

at least, until zhongli dropped by to give you a gift a week later.

at the sight of him, your cat's tail shot up as they stared at each other.

you told him to drop his gift by the counter and ushered him out when you noticed the cat's growing unease.

meanwhile, zhongli noticed something entirely different.

that is, the sad glimmer in your eyes when you realized that your dear pet didn't like your dear lover.

a painful tug in his heart brought him back to reality.

it was then that zhongli decided that he never wants to see that look of melancholy on your face again.

before saying goodbye, zhongli brushed his lips on your forehead which prompted a small giggle from you.

that was a start.

but it was not enough.

he was nothing if not a determined and unmoveable man and right now, he is determined to get your cat to like him and by extension, make you happy.

sure, he wasn't one to be overly friendly with animals but if that must change to return the sparkle in your eyes then so be it.

instead of going home, zhongli dropped by wanwen bookhouse where he bought all the books that had the word 'cat' on them.

he was saving up for a date but all of that was thrown out of his head because this was more relevant.

that night, zhongli read as much as he could.

the following day, you noticed something different about him but you didn't know what.

later on, you would realize that it was his perfume. he changed the one he was wearing to something less strong.

i reckon it's also something proven to be liked by cats. i can see him wearing a honeysuckle-scented perfume.

zhongli continued his studies, learning the behavioral cues of cats and so forth.

he was waiting for the right time to act and that came when you were suddenly asked to do some business outside liyue.

because it was unplanned, your usual catsitter was unavailable and before you can even start freaking out, zhongli appeared and offered to help.

you were wary. of course, you were.

but then you trusted zhongli and you hoped that maybe this was the push they needed to befriend each other.

in a span of thirty minutes, you briefed him on your cat's specific habits and likes. you paid special attention to the food and toys part.

and then you were off.

zhongli was uncharacteristically nervous because he knew he only had one shot at this and if he fails, that devastated look you had would become permanent.

when he entered your apartment, the cat was perched on top of a shelf.

kneeling from a safe distance, he made sure not to make unnecessary eye contact.

after a few minutes, your cat moved to inspect him and he might as well be a rock with how unmoving he was. a relaxed rock though because cats hate being around people who are on the edge (as stated on page 38 of 'how to get someone else's cat to like you' volume 6)

soon enough, the cat began easing up. slowly lifting a hand, zhongli allows them to sniff around. when the cat hesitantly bumps their head against his, he cautiously rubbed the back of their ears.

zhongli was hooked but he showed it in a very subtle manner.

in the next few hours, he would employ a lot of tricks. feeding them treats, playing with them, gifting them a little something, etc.

by the time you return, zhongli was reading a book and your cat was cuddling to his side on the couch, purring as he absentmindedly pets them.

zhongli would never forget the happy squeak that left your lips as you dropped your things and rushed to join the cuddlefest.

all the effort was worth it, after all, he amusedly thought as he relished the warmth of your body and your cat's that was swiftly growing on him unironically.

— diluc;

diluc was not a small talk kind of person so he never knew you liked animals nor did he know you had a dog.

it only came up three months into dating when you offhandedly mentioned it while watching him close the tavern.

he paused midway, before turning to you and questioning your statement.

when you affirmed your statement, giving him little details such as the breed and their name, diluc was unsure of what to make of it.

you were the one who visited his home, not the other way around so it was no surprise that he didn't know.

now, he doesn't hate dogs, he just didn't love them either.

street dogs would sometimes approach him while he was strolling and most of the time, he would ignore them.

when they reach up to him, he might pat them stiffly for a few seconds before going on his way.

he thought that it was an interesting detail about you though and when he thought about it, it kind of fits your character.

anyway, that knowledge was pushed off to the far corners of his mind.

until two weeks later, he dropped by your house to return your coat that you left in one of the barstools.

he didn't even make it inside because your dog who was outside at that time began barking loudly.

diluc was stumped. he seriously was and he just stood there like an idiot until you decided to come out and see what the commotion was about.

you muffled a laugh as your dog stopped barking, settling on snarling at him.

when he averted his gaze to you, the dog moved by your side as if protecting you.

diluc was a teensy bit offended.

you shooed him off with an amused laugh and diluc promptly walked back home.

he was a little unnerved but he didn't think much of it.

that was until your meetings were always cut short because your dog was becoming borderline feral (only in his eyes, in reality, the dog had no intention of lunging at him. they just want him to back off.)

it was easy to see that he was getting frustrated.

so he decided to do what he does best when he's in doubt: spend money.

diluc randomly dropped by your house with a box in hand.

he gave it to you with a blank look and you opened it confusedly only to see an unbelievable amount of dog items.

you stuttered out an 'i can't possibly take this' but diluc was not taking a no.

he left after that and you were not sure what you'd do with the gifts.

four days later, he was back to pick you up for a little date but the dog was still as unapproachable as ever much to diluc's bewilderment.

he was out of focus the entire date because why isn't your dog appeased?

then a light bulb lit up (i am convinced that the light bulb was broken).

he thought that the dog didn't like those specific toys and treats so he bought more.

he kept on doing this for almost a month before you finally placed a foot down.

diluc listened as you scolded him, telling him that while you appreciated the gifts, you barely have enough space in your house because it was too much.

you followed up by saying that dogs aren't like humans that can be bought with a bunch of gifts. you have to earn their trust too.

now he's even more confused.

you sighed before pulling him inside. you thought him the basics of dog caring.

he awkwardly followed after you, listening to your words even if you were barely making any sense to him.

finally, the moment of truth.

diluc was standing there, obviously out of place, which unnerved the dog even more.

with a less-than-subtle jab in the side, you told him to relax.

he's trying his best so with semi-tense shoulders, he reached out an ungloved hand (at your insistence) with a treat on top of it.

slowly, your dog cautiously went up to eat the treat before backing away immediately.

diluc flinched a tiny bit as their tongue lingered a little. it was a very weird sensation but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. in fact, it was almost comforting.

he did this a few more times before your dog acknowledged that he was not a threat and began lingering.

you insisted that he try petting them softly, putting great emphasis on the 'softly'.

wow, what a fulfilling feeling, said diluc in an alternate universe where he wasn't as closed off. in this world though, he simply kept that thought to himself.

diluc enjoyed the petting part maybe a little too much.

he had a soft smile on his face as your dog barked but this time, out of delight.

for the next few days, diluc squeezes as much free time as he can to drop by your house and see your dog.

you couldn't help but beam as you watched diluc play fetch with them.

without knowing it, your dog has become diluc's comfort animal.

meanwhile, your dog now sees diluc as part of the family.

and you were more than happy to be able to partake in this whole clumsy but endearing mess.

—kaeya;

stray cats loved kaeya.

he doesn't even need to try. they just love him by default.

it's not like he does anything in particular. sure, he may drop little snacks on very rare occasions but that's about it.

it was probably how you met him. it was one of his very few breaks and he was just appreciating the warm, sunny day when a cat approached him.

but then, one cat followed and another and suddenly, a bunch of cats is cuddling him because his temperature is cool.

lowkey needed help because he's trapped but he's too prideful to ask for it.

thank god for a certain cat whisperer: you.

they loved you more and followed everything you said.

kaeya looked at you oddly, wondering how you did that.

you noticed his curious stare and told him you had a cat at home who was ten times needier than all of the cats in mondstadt combined.

he thought you were exaggerating (spoiler: you were not).

you ended up ensnaring kaeya as well who sometimes acted like a needy cat. you laugh every time he's in his cuddle mood because he's almost exactly like your own.

one time, when you were in the middle of some... heated things, you instinctively asked him to stay the night.

oh, he was happy to do just that... until he was not.

the second you got in, he jumped to kiss you but a sudden clawing made him move away.

a cat was staring him down before snobbishly turning away, meowing cutely at you as if they didn't just ruin the mood.

you laughed, sheepishly apologizing as you hugged the cat close.

kaeya can only shake his head because seeing you babying a cat was very endearing and it made him want to wrap you in a fuzzy blanket and protect you from the rest of the world.

he thought that you would pamper the cat a little and then you'd be left to do whatever you two were about to do.

your cat was not having any of it and kept asking for more and more touches.

kaeya, for a brief second, wondered if you were a saint because he surely doesn't have enough patience for that.

he later becomes thankful because he realized that he was also probably just as needy, if not more.

after two hours, he knew that you would not be picking up from where you left off.

and he thought that it would be a nice idea to impress you instead and befriend your cat as if it was a piece of cake.

again, your cat was not having any of it because they pointedly ignored kaeya.

you tried to help him, handing him the cat's favorite treat but the cat wouldn't even look at him.

instead, their eyes are stuck on you. with an amused giggle, you pet the cat much to kaeya's displeasure because you are and i quote 'encouraging their actions'.

if he was being honest, your cat ignoring him was a huge blow against his pride.

he's used to people liking him, his silver tongue doing the heavy work. not to mention, he's inherently charming.

and then the cats in mondstadt all begged for his attention which is a huge stroke to his ego.

so why... why is this cat any different?

this cat, he swore, was hellbent on getting him to make a fool of himself in front of you.

while you went to the toilet, he sent a deadly stare at the cat who innocently licked their paw.

well, two can play that game.

when you came back, kaeya was smiling.

never a good sign. especially if it's that smirk.

before you could sit, kaeya pulled you into his lap, placing his chin on your shoulder and you swore you could feel the heated gaze he sent to your cat.

'oh my god' you thought as you tried to muffle another round of laughter.

kaeya was literally challenging a cat for your attention.

you told him that was not how he was gonna win your cat's affection but he replied with:

"hm? the one who reigns victorious is always the one who'll gain respect. how would this be any different?"

and you were half-tempted to say "kaeya, honey... how could you be so smart and so dumb at the same time?"

you didn't know how to react when the cat retaliated and climbed to your lap.

so now you're all sat in a pile and it was kind of comfortable.

you instinctively began petting your cat much to their delight.

meanwhile, kaeya was watching, his own hands rubbing circles on your waist.

after a while, kaeya reached up to stop your hands but before you could question it, you watch as he began stroking your cat, mimicking the way you did so before.

you knew your cat knew the difference, your temperature was drastically different from his after all, but much to your surprise, they didn't budge and kept purring.

you rolled your eyes, already seeing kaeya's victorious smile in your head.

still, you thought with a smile as you leaned back into his chest, this was nice.

nights like that soon became a common thing in your household.

— childe;

childe liked dogs.

they're fun, energetic, lively, and overall just jolly and he liked that vibe very much because it means they can keep up with him.

sometimes when he's free, he'd come to the bridge and feed the stray dogs of liyue.

they were smaller and less fluffy than the ones in snezhnaya that were almost pure floof but dogs are dogs and he was never the choosy type.

your first meeting was not animal-related but after many dates, he found out you had a dog, and boy, was he ecstatic.

he immediately bugged you and asked to meet them but you only shook your head saying that you were a little too busy right now.

he pouted but he let the topic go.

because he was equally as busy, he eventually forgot about it.

that is until you finally had some free time and invited him over.

childe was back to being... a child and it was endearing. you had to resist pinching his cheeks because he was smiling so much.

when you do arrive home, you had to hold his hand because he was nearly bursting at the seams, ready to break down the door.

you gave him a silent cue to calm down and he thankfully did. so you opened the door to reveal your adorable dog wagging their tail happily, tongue lolling as they ran up to you.

your first instinct was to hug them and give them kisses and maybe laugh as you heard childe's not so subtle 'aww' from the back.

you turned and introduced childe with a pitch higher than normal. if you averted your gaze then, you would've seen childe's heart eyes now directed at you.

the dog stared at childe who gave a small wave, smile still unfalling before it turned back to you.

he didn't think much of it because the dog was more than likely to still be welcoming you.

you told him that your dog was the friendly type and he's not a biter. he nodded but to be honest, he didn't really care if he was feral or not. in his eyes, a dog is a dog *cue childe's uwu face*.

eventually, you placed the dog down and went to the kitchen to fix some snacks for the both of you.

at which point, childe called over the dog enthusiastically, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

the dog stared at him boredly before moving to follow you where they just watched you do whatever.

childe's lips twitched downwards but decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.

right, maybe they were just shy.

you got back and the dog was following suit. you began conversing with childe as your dog sat by your feet.

childe didn't bother hiding his disappointment.

an hour later, you stood up to visit the comfort room.

your dog began walking around and childe called after them but as he expected, they didn't even spare him a glance.

when they began gnawing at the legs of your dining chair, childe sat up quickly, raising his voice slightly as he told them to stop.

guess what? of course, they didn't.

you wondered what the noise was all about but all you saw was a slightly panicked childe, wondering if he should just pick them up since the dog wouldn't listen to him.

you called the dog's name and he immediately stopped. you enjoyed the look of absolute distress on childe's face.

what was he doing wrong? did your dog know not to trust him unlike you?

you didn't know the answer to his questions when he finally got the courage to ask.

you honestly even told him that this was the first time this ever happened.

for a while, childe was disheartened. in his eyes, this was just as bad as not getting your parents' approval (worse if you think about it because dogs are mostly very trusting creatures).

but then, childe realizes that this was just a challenge, and boy, does he love a good challenge.

he is a man on a mission and he was not going to fail.

the first step on his master plan was to spoil the dog. unlike diluc however, he knows that he can't just give it like some kind of sugar daddy.

no, you must get your hands and knees dirty which was harder than he expected because apparently, the mere sight of him triggers the dog's innate laziness.

they do not move an inch.

right, step two was to feed them until they were completely dependent on him.

that did not work well because you were strict on keeping them on a diet.

or so you thought because he managed to slip some treats while you weren't looking much to the dog's hesitant joy.

step three was to appear as meek as possible which was the hardest part.

in hindsight, childe wondered if it was his excitement that scared the dog away.

in any case, childe began limiting eye contact and gave them as much space as possible without appearing too distant.

soon enough, the dog began approaching him of their own free will.

childe was very happy but he composed himself well. you were watching and you gave him that credit with a smile you quickly hid.

step four was initiating playtime.

he eventually finds out that the dog was actually energetic but you didn't have much time to help them spend it so he offered to help.

that's when they truly began to bond. they did dog runs, mini-fetch in your living room and etc.

step five was the one he liked the most. it's showing the dog he meant no harm to you.

you loved that step too.

you noticed that he becomes much more affectionate when your dog is around and it's not just regular affection. it's his gentle, soft, doting affection that's saved for very domestic interactions around the comforts of your house. it never fails to make your legs weak.

eventually, your dog became more attached to childe than they were to you but you didn't mind too much because childe was overly attached to you.

in the end, you always wind up spending time with both of them.

this, of course, to childe's secret delight.

he succeeded in his mission after all, which is not only to earn your dog's trust but also to avoid the worst-case scenario where you spend more time with your dog than you do with him.

━━ ☆ NOTES: thank you so much for saying such kind words and for requesting!! i hope you like these and they make your day better :)) also,, isn’t it funny how my headcanons are progressively increasing in length?

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besotted-eros · 3 years

Text

taste of ale and towers

Eren Jaeger x F!Reader (PoC)

Summary: Your favourite patron finally makes a move, and it takes you into the sky.

Content: Unabashed fluff, some jealousy, mentions of alcohol, jealous!Eren. Scouts getting to be stupid.

You liked your job.

Drunkards, vomit, and brawls aside. You enjoyed the warm atmosphere of the tavern, with its brick walls and its crackling fire. You enjoyed sorting through the clinking glasses and bottles, hearing the bar tales from old regulars and new faces. You were meticulous about cleaning, ensuring that this was one of the only taverns in the town that didn't reek of bile and piss. Instead the scent of soft hay, spiced mead and warm bread filled the room, fighting for dominance with the crowing laughs of the patrons. It was pleasant.

Yeah, you liked your job. Especially on nights like these.

"There is NOOOOO way you're taking credit for that one, that's all me." Connie's hand pushed into Sasha's face, his brows furrowed as the tall girl slapped his hand away and shoved a finger into his cheek.

"Yoush need ta shut up, Conster. Ain't a little tyke like you ever gonna get a titan THAT big. It was HUGE!" She burst from her seat, rocking the table and throwing her hands up to the ceiling. "IT WAS THIS BIG!" the table roared with laughter as Mikasa struggled to pull her back down. You smiled along with them as you filled a tankard. You'd have to cut her off soon.

"Stop knocking over drinks Sasha, you're going to give y/n more work."

The voice cut through the thrum of conversation. You could have picked the sound of him out of a storm, or a symphony. And it made your heart race every time.

You could feel him walking towards you through the crowd, and kept your eyes down. There was a deep scratch on the counter, and you dragged the rag over it repeatedly, until a hand entered your vision. His fingers were long, the skin taunt against bone and tendon. They were the hands of a soldier. But when he rested his it over yours, they were gentle.

"Hey, do you mind if I take this for a second?" Eren asked, his mouth twisted into a rueful grin as he nodded his head back towards his friends. "Don't want things to dry up and get sticky."

He was your most faithful patron. You knew that if he wasn't off saving humanity, he would be in your tavern after dinner at the barracks. But he never drank much, nursing a single beer, maybe two over a few hours.

"Oh, I can clean it myself!" You chirped, and his lower lip twitched slightly, head tilting.

"You're busy, it's okay. Let me." He pulled it away firmly, shooting you a small smile as he turned back. You were happy to see it. It seemed as though he smiled less and less these days. But there always seemed to be at least one for you. You regretted that you weren't able to sit with him tonight, have his gaze upon you as you leaned into his heat. He had been away for a few weeks, and you missed him. Even though he wasn't yours to miss.

"God, you might as well work here 'ren" Jean drawled, and the pale haired man's eyes flicked to yours. Eren scowled at him, wiping the table clean. "Would have pretty co-workers at least." You flushed at the compliment, turning on your heel to busy yourself with needlessly sorting bottles in the shelves. You could tell the group was appraising you now.

"Watch it." Eren snapped, flicking the rag quickly to snap against the scout's cheek. Jean grinned, smelling Eren's weakness. He snatched at the rag, tugging it from the green eyed man's grasp.

"I'll return this for you." Jean grinned, sliding out from the booth and padding through the crowded chairs and bodies. Before Eren could even formulate a way to get him to stop, he was at the bar, pushing his hair back and fixating you a handsome grin.

His friends stared with awe, even Sasha hushed by the sight of quiet rage in Eren's face.

"He's just blatantly making moves on your girl huh?" Connie commented, eliciting a glare from Eren.

"Don't have a 'girl', idiot. No clue what you're on about." Eren dropped into his seat, but his eyes were glued on how Jean was leaning over the bar, long arm outstretched to gesture to a jewel coloured bottle on the shelf. He was crowding you, leaning in so close. He could probably smell the scent of vanilla and rose, and see how prettily a lock of hair curled by your jaw.

"Oh puhlease, Errrren." Sasha took a sloppy swing of her ale, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "You look at her with those big ol' cow eyes, and you're here, what? Every night?" She looked around the table for validation, only met with an angry green stare as eyes of grey, blue and black averted strategically. "You don't even drink!" She rested the glass against her face, eyes closed and expression pulled into a caricature of mourning. "Oh, how will your love ever withstand this distance of 9 feet? How will you ever cross it?"

"Can you shut up and eat some peanuts or something?" Eren snapped, his face red. Armin's mouth was twitching as he fought back a smile, and Mikasa had pressed her wineglass to her lips for an uncharacteristically long amount of time, eyes twinkling over the rim.

"We're out of peanuts." Sasha was truly mournful now, pulling the bowl towards her with both hands.

"Yeah, maybe we can ask Jean's new girlfriend for a refill." Connie murmured into his hands. Sasha roared with laughter, and even Armin couldn't hold back a chuckle, looking sheepish when his best friend glared at him.

"Sorry, 'ren. But Sasha has a point y'know. You have to make a move eventually." His fingers were knit around the tall glass of mead in front of him. But his eyes were still sharp, and his smile kind.

"I'm not going to "make a move"." He replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "You guys are making a big deal of nothing."

"Oh come on, just admit it." Connie exclaimed, rubbing his fingers over his dark buzz. "It's obvious she's crazy about you too. She doesn't sit with anyone else, literally just you. And it's not for the conversation, because you suck at that." Eren glowered as the table nodded solemnly. But he couldn't deny it made his heart beat faster.

"She looks at you the same way you look at her. Have you noticed that?" Armin asked, resting his chin on his hand.

Eren watched as you tucked a raven lock behind your ear, nodding as Jean spoke softly to you, his finger tracing the rim of a glass you had filled for him.

He hadn't noticed the way you look at him. He was too busy noticing how soft your eyes were, how you would always keep a place for children to sit behind the bar in case the room got too rowdy. How you'd stand your ground against men twice your size, sneering up at them in a way that was honestly intimidating. How gentle your hands were when they'd rest on his arm, laughing at some stupid joke or comforting him when he'd appear with bags under his eyes and ghosts on his breath.

"Do it." Came Mikasa's soft encouragement, nudging him from his seat. "Before Jean does."

Right as her voice met his ears, you laughed. It wasn't overly vibrant, or loud. But it was a laugh, Jean was making you laugh.

"He might kill him." Armin mused as they watched Eren elbow his way to the pair. Connie grinned, downing the rest of his drink.

"I always loved a bar fight."

"It's not that hard, when you get used to it." Jean was saying, the caramel of his eyes melting into yours as he attempted to hold your gaze. This wasn't the first time you had spoken to the tall scout, but it was the first time he had flirted so blatantly. "I could even show you sometime, could get on my back, or I could stra-" suddenly Jean's was on the ground, staring up in bewilderment as Eren made himself comfortable in the now empty stool. You blinked with confusion, lips rounded into a little o. It seemed that Eren had violently hipchecked the man off, and stolen his seat.

"You talk too much, Jean boy." He muttered. Jean scrambled up, chest expanded as he leaned in close to Eren's face.

"Say that again, Jaeger." He growled, threateningly.

"No." Eren's eyes refused to break from yours. But you could see that telltale bristling, and practically smell the pent up rage wafting from the men.

"If you boys fight in my bar, I'm going to have to throw both of you out." You warned, earning a sheepish look from both of them.

"Sorry, y/n." They said in chorus before glares snapped to each other again. You watched as Eren held Jean's gaze, and something unsaid passed between them. But finally Jean's face turned to a smile.

"Took you long enough." He scoffed, bumping the dark haired youth's shoulder as he walked back to his seat.

You looked at Eren, confusion making your lower lip press forward in a way that made his heart jump.

"Sorry about that." He mumbled, touching the back of his head. "We just... Fight a lot." You arched an eyebrow, a smiling playing on your lips.

"I can tell. But you're close."

He nodded, staring down at the drink Jean had abandoned.

"Can I get you anything? Tempt you into actually getting drunk tonight?" You removed the old glass and slid a new one into his hands. "You look like you need it."

He smiled, mouth twisting wryly. "I uh, can't get drunk."

"Oh? Why's that?"

He flexed his jaw, eyes refusing to meet yours. "Since I'm... Well a titan shifter. I regenerate too fast. As my body metabolizes it, I'm already healing. That's why Armin doesn't get drunk either." He motioned his shoulder towards the table, and as you looked over all their heads snapped away.

"That's fascinating." You said it sincerely, and met his gaze when his eyes raised. He had seemed timid to tell you. It's not that you didn't know, everyone knew. But not everyone accepted it.

"So, do you just really like the taste of our mead then?"

He chuckled, shrugging. "Yeah." His eyes flicked to yours, regarding you from under his dark lashes. "And the company."

You flushed, dragging your teeth over your lower lip. "Yeah, heard it's good here."

Eren grinned, running a hand through his hair. The fire caught the glossy chestnut of it, and you tried not to imagine what it would feel like under your fingertips.

"I like it, seeing you here." You absent-minded wiped a glass as you spoke, needing to channel the growing energy. "Makes me feel a bit..." You trailed off, biting your lower lip in earnest now. "Safe? Normal? Like things are going to be okay if I see you come through the door. The world hasn't exploded yet."

The youth had fallen silent. You wondered if you had overstepped, and raise your eyes to offer an apology. But his expression silenced you.

He looked at you with shining eyes, lips parted slightly with shock.

"I-" you began and were cut off by his hands slapping down on the counter as he leaned forward, gaze cutting through you. He was red, his cheeks like burning embers in the warm light, pretty mouth scrunched slightly to the side.

"Y/n, go out with me." He said, voice pitched and loud. You felt the tavern hush slightly, the loud drone muting as eyes turned to you. He blinked in surprise as you did, both of you caught off guard by the sudden intensity. He sat back on the stool, smile sheepish. "I uh, sorry. Will you go out with me?"

You let him stew for a moment. It was only fair, he made you wait so long for him to say those words. His smile faltered, eyes searching your face. But your lips curled into a smile.

"I'm off tomorrow."

The rap at your door was firm. You had wondered when it would happen, as you had seen Eren arrive at your door a little over ten minutes ago, staring nervously at the entry way. You had leaned out your window to watch him, the normally perceptive man oblivious to your wandering eyes. He had paced, wrung his hands, adjusted the backpack that weight on his shoulders.

"I'll be down in a second." You called, making him start and stare up at you open mouthed.

"Y/n,how, how long-?" He called up, but you shut the window quickly, holding back your laughter as you ran down the stairs, pausing to take a breath before throwing open the door.

"Hi," you said breathlessly, fixating him with a smile. He looked at you with mouth agape, eyes wracking over your form. He had only ever seen you in your typical work attire, a dingy apron tossed over an old puffed skirt, a modest button up to finish it off. So when you brushed your dark hair back off your shoulders, allowing his eyes to alight upon the soft skin of clavicle and chest. The blouse you had picked laid prettily off your shoulders, gripping onto the flesh of your upper arms. The soft cream complimented your brown skin in a way that would make Eren associate the shade with you forever.

"You... You look really beautiful, Y/n." He said finally, giving you a rougishly handsome half smile.

"You clean up well too." You replied, and he shrugged humbly The white button up was ironed with a soldier's precision, and the jacket he wore over it hugged the muscles in his arms temptingly.

"We match." He commented, gesturing to the dark green of your skirt and how it complimented the fabric of his jacket. You had chosen it because it reminded you of his eyes when the fire had gone down, right before you'd have to ask him to leave. He'd be heavy lidded, hair mussed and smelling like smoke. But would insist on helping you put up the chairs every time.

"So, where are we off to?" You asked, he turned quickly, face excited as he took a step. But then he paused, turning back around sheepishly. He offered you an arm, straightening his back. You held back a laugh at his excitement and containment of it. It was endearing, you thought as you took his arm and he began to guide you towards the outer wall.

"I uh... Made us a picnic." He said, helping you over a puddle. "Well not just me. Sasha, she made the sandwiches. But I helped." It made you flush to think that the whole regiment was probably aware of what you were doing currently. It didn't help that Eren took you over wall Rose, the basket pulley system making you cling to him under the gaze of the soldiers manning it. You stood together at the top for a moment, staring over at your district. He pointed out the barracks, and you pointed out your home. He moved closer to you to follow your pointing, needlessly close. But you liked it.

"We don't usually let civilians over like this." He whispered as he helped you into the basket on the other side. "But I told them you're special." He gave you an easy half smile.

"Trying to squeeze free booze from me, Jaeger?" You teased as he climbed in beside you. His arm was around your waist instantly, bracing as the descent begun.

"Yeah." He responded, and grinned back at him. He made the fear lessen.

You admired him as best as you could, stealing glances as he walked beside you through the forest. The dappled shade touched his high cheekbones, made his green eyes flash like emerald caught under a jeweler's light.

"Here!" He exclaimed finally, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you towards a clearing. In the middle of it was a tall, tall tower, a wooden outpost made for guards to keep an eye out for titans.

"Wait one second, okay?" Eren asked, holding your arms and placing you against the leg of the structure. He draped his jacket over you before climbing up the ladder, at a speed you thought was almost showoffish.

You leaned against the wood, listening as the tower creaked above you. It sounded like the trees that surrounded, a part of the landscape. You hugged Eren's jacket tighter to you, dipping your head to your shoulder to inhale the scent of him from the collar. It was clean, vibrant almost. A sharp smell that made you think of knives and the edge of his jaw. The fabric was coarse against your nose, obviously military grade, utilitarian in its design. But you thought of the way it would hug his slim shoulders, his muscular arms, how it would -

"Having fun?" Eren's voice called and your head snapped up to see him grinning from the entry hole. "I'm ready for you up here."

You pulled yourself up, hoping the exertion would hide the embarrassment. He helped you onto the platform, large hands firm on your body to hoist you up.

"Ta-da." He said, gesturing to the blanket laid out in front of you. On top of it he had arranged sandwiches, two glasses that had been filled with deep red wine, and a loaf you recognized as sweet bread, soldiers "desert" rations for special occasions. He had even bought candles, perched delicately in a spartan holder. "It's not much but..." He guided you over, shrugging slightly. "I hope you like it."

"I love it, Eren." You sunk down onto the blanket, grinning up at him. "Didn't know you were such a romantic."

He shrugged again, but his cocky grin told you he was pleased with himself. It became somber as he sat across from you, reclining back on his hands.

"Just don't get the chance to do this, y'know." He said softly, voice gentle enough to be carried away by the breeze. The walls were low here, and even while sitting you could see over top. The forest seemed to go on forever, a sea of shimmering greens. You felt an intimate fondness for them and with a start realised why, as you looked back towards the man sitting across from you. He held the colour of life in his eyes, verdant and vibrant.

"I'm honoured that you're using it on me, then." You replied, earning yourself a warm smile. Your heart leapt at the sight of it, and you decided that even if this was the only time you'd get him to yourself, you'd make the most of it.

"There's no one else I'd rather." His voice was genuine, and seemed to even catch himself off guard. He blushed, prettily. "Uh, dig in." He grabbed his sandwich, quickly stuffing it into his mouth.

You pretended not to watch him eat, how his tongue would dart out to wet his lips or how you could see his Adams apple bob with every swallow. And he pretended not to watch you drink, how your lips pursed on the rim, how you'd hold the cool glass against your cheek as you listened to him speak. Hours passed like that, the food long reduced to crumbs and fuel to press the conversation forward.

He spoke mostly about his friends. Stories that showcased Armin's smarts or Mikasa's fortitude. You liked how he looked when he slipped into fond memories. Eyes glossy, smile crooked. He spoke with his hands, painting scenes with every movement of his fingers. Sasha grasping Mikasa by the shoulders, Jean being bowled over by an over excited Connie. The wind would wind it's fingers through his hair. It was long, not long enough to pull into a ponytail but long enough that it stroked the nap of his neck. The sun reflected the golden threads in it, and you wondered if there was any part of the forest that wasn't a part of him.

And he listened to you as though you were a preacher saving his soul. Eyes wide, leaned forward and nodding intently. You felt seen in a way you hadn't before. Sure people had looked at you, long and hard and even leering. But no one saw you like Eren did.

"The view is beautiful." You commented after some time, standing to walk over to the ledge. The sky had painted itself an orange peel, with a glowing lemon for a setting sun. You peered over the low wall, swallowing your vertigo. Eren followed you, and after a small pause placed an arm slowly around your waist. You felt his warmth glow through you, and were comforted.

"Yeah," he said, gazing at you as though you had hung the moon. "It is."

You let your head drop, leaning it against his shoulder. Intimacy was a stranger to the soldier, something that had no place in his life. In fact, Eren was almost scared. After titans and gore, after horrors that would rise bile for even the most hardened veterans, it was your soft figure that made him speechless. He didn't know how to hold you, didn't know what to do with the elation that filled his heart at the sensation of you soft and compliant in his arms.

Should he kiss you now? He thought as your face turned towards his. Your eyes were sparkling, smile so sweet it was almost saccharine. He could see peace in your face. A soft rest, head nestled somewhere warm with only the sound of heartbeats. But before he could close the space between you, a loud squak startled you away. Eren's grip on your waist tightened and he stepped you back from the ledge cautiously. In front of you a bird burst through the canopy, rushing towards the sky as another followed hot upon its tail. You watched as they cartwheeled through the sky, shrieks loud and grating.

You placed a hand over your heart, letting out an airy laugh. "Thank you, I would jumped right over."

"Glad you didn't. " He murmured, reflecting your smile. "It would suck to have to jump after you." The look on your face was unreadable, and Eren worried that he said something wrong. He was afraid of that, to love you wrong. What else would be expected of someone like him? He didn't know how to treat a woman, let alone someone like you. What was he thinking of, trying to kiss you. You, with your radiant smile that cut through the subdued warmth of the tavern and straight into his chest.

"Should probably pack this up," Eren began, turning back to the blanket. A soft tap on his shoulder made him turn back to you, eyebrow cock with question. Only to be met by your lips, crashing into his. The force made him step back, catching you by the waist. For a moment he feared you would actually topple over the side.

You kissed him exactly how he had dreamt. Like a stormcloud, soft but full, wetting the desert of him. Your hands cradled his cheeks, tender in how you held them. Eren couldn't remember the last time he had been touched so softly.

When you broke away, he was blushing.

"I... Wow." He managed to get out, chest rising and falling with the force of his breath. "I didn't expect that."

"I'm sorry," you murmured demurely, making to step back. "It's just that..." You chewed on your lower lip, and he thought about how you were most likely tasting him. "You meant it. That you would jump after me. I liked that."

The smile spread like a wildfire across Eren's face. "I did." He said breathlessly, pulling you back towards him. This time he kissed you, fingers sliding their way from your jaw into your hair.

When your lips broke again, you wondered how you were still standing. Your heart felt as though it could break through the canopy itself, and your knees fragile enough to give under the next strong gust. Eren was in a similar state, all red face and gentle hands, feeling their way through the length of your hair. He ran his fingers through it, from root to tip, repeating the motion has the wind fought him for the chance to stroke your locks.

"Been wanting to do this." He whispered, hand going still on the back of your neck. "From the moment I first met you."

You rolled your eyes, trying to quell the fluttering that grew in your stomach. "Use more lines on me, Jaeger."

His dark brow furrowed, and he used his grip on your hair to pull you closer. It embarrassed you how heat ran through your body as he did it. "'ts not a line, y/n. I mean it." He dipped his head to rest his forehead against yours, green eyes boring into you. His hands slid down you, moving like a landslide. You felt the topography of your body would be forever changed by him, born anew by the fact he was touching you. They came to settle on your hips, and he hummed into another kiss.

"You were fighting someone." Eren said finally, and you let out a quick laugh. "No, really. When I first saw you, you were fighting someone." You felt like you were falling when you saw the expression on his face. He recounted seeing you like he recounted his friends, eyes soft and full of adoration for the memories that made him whole. "I had gone for a walk, just needing to clear my head. And all of a sudden in front of me this door swung open, and a man stepped out. Nonchalant, holding it open as he checked his watch. And all I could hear was this... Yelling." He laughed, squeezing you slightly as you leaned into him. A part of you wanted to press your face into his neck, to find how the curves of your body fit. But you needed to see his face as he spoke about you. Commit it to memory. "And then this fucking hulk of a man stumbled out, and he was *blabbering* like a kid. Just apologising, over and over again. And then you," he paused for a moment to press another kiss to your lips. "You come out holding a broom like I've held a blade, just ready to kill. And you had it up against his chin, right here." Eren dipped his head and nudged yours back, exposing the expanse of your throat. His lips found the thin skin of where your neck curved into your chin, and he kissed it. "Your hair was a mess, and the light made it look like you had a halo. No wonder the man ran." He held you by the small of your back now, dipping you slightly. Your eyes had fluttered closed as he clung to him. "And you caught my eye as you turned, God I must have looked like an idiot. But you caught my eye and you smiled. Apologised, and then thanked the man holding the door so sweetly. And I thought..." He pulled away now, blushing.

"You thought what?" You pressed, pressing into him.

"What mouth you'd kiss with. If you'd kiss hard and passionate, or soft and sweet." He gave you a boyishly handsome smile. "It's both. "

You pressed your lips to his again. And again. The sun set against your entwined bodies, and Eren had a feeling the night watch wouldn't be impressed with his request to come back over. But it didn't matter, he thought as you pulled away to smile up at him, brighter than the moon. Because this was worth it.

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butmakeitgayblog · 3 years

Text

City of Angels: Just a Little Doped Up

Also available on AO3

///////////////////

Lexa ached seeing her wife in pain.

Ached.

The weeks leading up to the big day had left Lexa feeling emotionally drained; a jittery ball of nerves bouncing from one room of their apartment to the next, testing out any and every remedy she could come up with to alleviate her wife's discomfort. Weeding through half-hearted protests of, "I'm fine," and diligently argued pleas of, "I'll do it later," Lexa clawed, begged, borrowed, and stole her way to this particular finish line.

After a month of grumbled fights and empty threats of a contentious divorce if Clarke didn't stop rescheduling, Lexa could only manage a haphazard sigh at being on the receiving end of her wife's icy glare when they'd finally led her away.

Because Clarke had eventually agreed to the procedure, albeit with an air of begrudging resignation, having spent the days leading up to the appointment grumpily preparing Lexa for what to expect.

And she thought she did know what to expect. Lexa had fully anticipated the swollen cheeks and glazed eyes that greeted her when the nurse had called her back. She'd expected the blood tinted dribble of drool that leaked from the lax hang of her wife's mouth. Even the wobbly chin and glistening sheen of tears upon seeing her again didn't lead Lexa to think a single thing was amiss.

But this?

She certainly hadn't anticipated this.

"Who the hell is that?"

"Pardon?" Lexa mumbled in return as she continued to read through the clipboard in her hands, a sigh escaping her at the fifth question in a row.

"I thaaaid," Clarke pushed out with a glassy roll of her eyes, "who the hell is that?"

Slowly dragging her eyes up for a moment Lexa flashed a pleading, yet overly-saccharine, look of love at her wife.

"Clarke?" she said as sweetly as she could manage.

"Hu?"

"Shhh. Just for a little bit, okay?"

Lexa watched an affronted frown pull at her wife's lips, cheeks stuffed with enough gauze to render any threat from the look quite moot. Shooting the disgruntled love of her life another smile, Lexa turned back to the discharge sheet she'd been attempting to fill out.

"Is she always this… lively?"

A cough of laughter jumped from Lexa's chest as she dotted the final 'i' in her last name. Handing the clipboard back to the waiting nurse, Lexa grinned over at the woman now fighting through a series of torturous looking blinks.

"You have no idea," she whispered. "But this is rare form, for sure. You'd think a doctor would-"

"Oh no," the nurse, Monroe, interrupted, shaking her head ruefully as she moved to slip the clipboard in its holder. "Doctors make the worst patients. If they're not pulling the MD card on you, they--"

"Heeey you. C'mere."

"-- Act like a fool?" Lexa finished for her, tossing an exasperated look toward the caregiver in charge.

Turning to the sound of her wife's call, Lexa had to swallow the urge to laugh. Despite Clarke's best attempt at what Lexa knew to be her sultry voice of seduction, the growing puddle of spittle escaping the loose sling of her mouth was enough to kill any hope of that particular mood.

"Yes, my love?" she soothed anyway, rolling the wheeled stool she sat on over to catch her wife's searching hand. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Clarke hummed, her words sticky, and slow, and slurred. "There's thit in my mouf."

"It's gauze, sweetheart," Lexa said, leaning down to press the whisper of a kiss to the swollen curve of Clarke's jaw. "You had your wisdom teeth taken out."

"They took my teef?!"

Seeing the flash of indignant anger in Clarke's eyes, Lexa immediately moved to intercept Clarke's free hand that had sluggishly tried, and failed, to fly up to her mouth.

"You asked them to, remember? They were hurting you."

Clarke shook her head, her eyes turning watery along with her words. "I wouldn't do that."

"I promise ya, hun," the nurse chuckled as she moved to Clarke's other side. "You did."

"But I hate doctorth."

"Amen, sister," Monroe hummed as she took Clarke's wrist and did a final check of her vitals.

Lexa watched as Clarke's eyes seemed to spin in their sockets for a moment before landing on her again, a smile blooming on Lexa's lips at her wife's adorable befuddlement.

"I lub you," Clarke slurred with doe-eyed conviction, picking her head up just to have it fall back a second later. Letting her wandering gaze loop around to her opposite side, baby-blues turned to the nurse instead. "I lub her, ya know."

"I should hope so," the nurse grinned as she placed Clarke's hand back down. "Otherwise the whole marriage thing would be kinda awkward."

"Yeah," Clarke said in a lazy sigh. "That'd be weird… Like we were straight--."

"Okay, Clarke," Lexa tried, shooting Monroe an apologetic smile. "Why don't we just-"

"But I'm in lub with her," she rolled on, pausing for a moment to noisily smack her obviously numb lips. "She's an angel, ya know?"

"She seems like it."

"No. No," Clarke shook her head defiantly. "You don't get it."

Releasing a nervous laugh, Lexa squeezed the hand in her grip in warning. "Clarke--"

"She's an angel. Like with the flappy wingth one. A halo and… 'N a harp, I think. Birkenstockth."

"Well those are certainly all words," Monroe smiled down at the babbling patient.

"She fell down a cliff to lub me," Clarke crooned in high-pitched broken words, her lip starting to tremble again with emotion.

Running a soothing hand through blonde hair, Lexa shook her head at the nurse holding back laughter as she stood to lean over her doped-up wife. "Clarke, sweetheart, shhhh, okay? We're gonna be going home in a minute, so just rest. If you talk too much, the swelling will be worse."

"Thee, look," Clarke said, ignoring Lexa entirely as she flopped a hand in the general direction of Lexa's face. "She's still got a lil thcar on her eye... I kith it when she's thleeping."

Head rolling back towards the nurse, Clarke looked up with a deadpan warning.

"Don't tell her that though."

"It'll be our little secret," Monroe winked before moving toward the door. "Okay, Mrs. Griffin, I'm gonna go get you the rest of your aftercare info and a wheelchair, and then you can get this one home."

Lexa breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "Thanks, Monroe."

"No problem, just sit tight."

The door clicked shut as the woman left, Lexa taking her seat again to fire off a text to Raven to let her know they'd be done soon. A hush fell over the room as she slid her phone back into her pocket before lifting her head… and seeing her wife glaring daggers at the closed door.

"What?"

Blue eyes rolled to her with what Lexa supposed could be defined as righteous indignation.

"I think that bith was flirtin' with me."

"Clarke," Lexa gasped and her mouth dropped open. "Do not call her that."

"She got all winky with me," Clarke argued, mimicking the move by seductively winking with both eyes. "I know what that meansth."

"Sweetheart, she was not flirting with you."

"She's trying to busth up a happy home. Make me get a divorce."

"She wasn't. She just thought you were being goofy."

"I'm not goofy… You're goofy."

Lexa simply sighed. "I am goofy, you're right."

"I know," Clarke nodded as Lexa tucked back a wayward curl behind Clarke's ear. "... 'N fuckin' 'winky' out there-"

"Clarke, stop."

"You tell her to sthop," Clarke frowned. "I'm married and she nid- no- needs to knock it off."

"I'll tell her that, okay?"

Clarke merely sighed, head falling to the side as stared over at Lexa through several slow blinks. "I can't feel my lipth."

"They're still there. Pretty as ever."

"I think they took my tongue away."

"I hope not. Definitely need that for later."

Clarke perked up at that.

"Are we gonna have thex later?"

"No," Lexa chuckled. "You're high as a kite, love. And you're going to be in a lot of pain in just a little bit, so I think it's gonna be a while before-"

Her words cut off as Clarke's bottom lips scrunched together, eyes filling with tears yet again.

"Oh, don't cry," Lexa hushed through a laugh as she scooted closer, carefully cradling her wife's face in her palms. She swept the pad of her thumb along the delicate row of lashes, collecting the dewy droplets before they could fall.

"You don't wanna have thex with me anymore," Clarke sniffled.

"I always want to have sex with you, Clarke," Lexa assured with a smile, rolling her eyes at the entire trainwreck of a conversation. "But you just had surgery, so for now you have to heal first."

"... Heal first?"

"Yes," Lexa nodded definitively. "Heal first, then sex. I promise."

Clarke seemed to debate the matter for a moment, her eyes shifting in and out of focus as Lexa ran fingers through the tendrils of her hair.

"Okay," Clarke finally conceded, giving a lazy shrug of her shoulder as all traces of sadness suddenly vanished from her face.

Lexa snorted as she pulled back, glad to have seemingly navigated that particular minefield successfully. A quiet knock on the door pulled her attention away as the door eased open and Monroe walked backward into the room.

"Alright, Clarke," she announced, pivoting around to pull a wheelchair up to the side of the recovery chair. "Your chariot awaits, m'lady."

"Oh look, winky'th back. Mleeeh."

Monroe's face pulled to the side in confusion, her gaze darting to Lexa who could only close her eyes and shake her head in answer. Biting her lips to seemingly hold back an amused response, the nurse gave a tiny nod of understanding as she moved to help the patient currently losing a battle with a blanket.

"Alrighty. Anyway. Ready to head home, Mrs. Griffin?"

"Griffin-Woodth," Clarke immediately groaned as she lumbered to her feet, one arm hooked through Lexa's while the other elbowed the nurse away. "We're a team."

Monroe lifted her hands up in surrender when Lexa grunted against Clarke's struggling and gave up on their coaxing method of transport, instead moving to wrap an arm around Clarke's waist to bodily shuffle her into the wheelchair. Easing her wife down in the seat, Lexa dodged a sloppy kiss aimed at her cheek.

"Hang on, sweetheart, you're bleeding again," she rushed out before Clarke could become emotionally unglued at her rebuff, mechanically moving to ransack the sterile tray still off to the side to grab a few fresh bundles of gauze.

Squatting down, Lexa tipped Clarke's head forward by her chin, thanking everything holy when her wife let her mouth fall open at her urging. Swapping out the soaked gauze for fresh ones and escaping unscathed from the teasing nip of teeth at her fingers, Lexa tenderly wiped Clarke's chin clean before tossing the rolls in the biohazard bin and moving to wash her hands.

"Well at least we know she's all set for home aftercare," Monroe said with a grin as Lexa shook her hands off and wiped them dry on a few paper towels.

Ears pinking at the statement, Lexa ditched the towels in the bin as well and made her way back over. "Yeah, sorry. Force of habit. Working inside of a hospital and being married to a doctor for four years, you just kinda get used to it."

"A lot of spouses can be a little put-off by the blood and drool."

"She drools when she sleeps anyway," Lexa shrugged, gathering up the paperwork they needed and stuffing them inside Clarke's purse. Placing the bag over her shoulder, Lexa leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her wife's forehead. "You ready to go home, love?"

"Mhmmmm," Clarke hummed with a dopey bob of her head.

Lexa held the door open as the nurse started wheeling Clarke out, her eyes doing a scan of the room to make sure they had everything. A quick jog let her catch up to the pair as they neared the patient checkout, Clarke babbling Monroe's ear off the entire way.

"Hey, sexy," a voice shouted as the doors of the clinic slid open. "Get your fine ass over here."

Lexa smiled at the call as she looked up from the soggy flow of words her wife was directing at seemingly no one in particular.

"Wabeeeen," Clarke called back in a throaty haze of excitement, her head and hand not holding an ice-pack wobbling back and forth in a bizarre kind of drugged-up celebration dance. "Baby, Waben's here."

"I know," Lexa said as Monroe wheeled them toward the SUV parked by the curb. "She drove us here. And now she's gonna give us a ride home, remember?"

"That'th nice of her... She's tho nice," Clarke sniffled as they pulled to a stop. Lexa could barely hold back a sputter of laughter at that, giving Clarke a conciliatory nod.

"Sure she is. We'll go with that."

"Jesus, Griff, what'd they do to you?"

Lexa's head snapped up to level their friend with a warning glare after blue eyes turned to her and started welling up all over again.

"Because ya look great!" Raven very expertly added, pulling her lips back in apology before spinning around toward her car and opening the door. "Okay, let's get you up and in, princess. Chop chop."

Scoffing at that pathetic display, Lexa pulled the purse off of her shoulder and shoved it in Raven's general direction as she rounded to the front of the wheelchair.

"You ready to get in, love?" she asked as she squatted down in front of her wife. "Me and Monroe are gonna help, okay?"

"No."

"Clarke--"

"I can walk mythelf."

"Let us help."

"You really shouldn't walk by yourself, Mrs. Griffin."

Clarke scowled at the nurse, a mumbled "Griffin-Woodth" floating between them as Lexa straightened back up.

"Don't make me do it, Clarke."

Blue eyes swung back around to her, a defiant glint coloring them… once they'd stopped rolling in Clarke's head.

"You're gonna be mad at yourself later," Lexa reminded. She waited a long moment as her wife stubbornly stared back. Shoulders slumping in defeat, Lexa stepped aside with a sigh and nodded toward the car.

Raven smiled and shook her head as she raised a knuckle and rapped twice on the darkened window.

"You owe me five bucks, Woods," Raven said as the door popped open.

"Yeah, yeah," Lexa frowned and shuffled aside to make room. "Excuse me for siding with my wife."

"Well in all fairness, it was a really dumb bet."

"Thank you," Lexa drawled as her friend stepped out.

Anya only shrugged as she closed the door behind her. Stepping to the wheelchair, she pulled up the sleeves of her long black coat and smirked down. "So we meet again, Clarke."

"Anya!" Clarke cheered, throwing her hand up to awkwardly pat the woman on the arm. Twisting around to look at the nurse behind her, Clarke hushed her voice and added, "She's an angel too, ya know?"

"Is that right?"

"Mhm. Our guard- our garden- our gardenia angel. But she kinda thucks at it. Don't tell her I thaid that though."

Anya's spine snapped to attention at the words, her glare darting between Lexa and the nurse eyeing the strangeness of her thick, dark outfit in the middle of L.A. heat with curiosity. Letting out a nervous chuckle, Lexa minutely shook her head and grabbed Clarke's hand to get her attention.

"Yes, sweetheart, everyone here's an angel. Let's get you in the car now, 'kay?"

"Yes," Monroe said as she seemed to blink herself out of whatever thoughts she'd been having, instead walking to the side of the wheelchair and flipping on the breaks. "Time to go, Mrs. Griffin… Woods. Griffin-Woods," she tacked on at the narrowing of Clarke's eyes before glancing up at the woman across from her. "You wanna grab that side?"

"Don't worry about it, just step back," Raven said as she helped Lexa guide the nurse up and away. "It'll be easier this way 'cause grouchy ass likes to fight anyone helping her."

With that, Anya crouched down and slid one arm beneath the bend of Clarke's knees, the other snaking between her arm and waist to wrap around her back.

"Up we go," Anya murmured and lifted Clarke out of the seat, ignoring the lazy protests from her passenger as she kicked aside the wheelchair with ease. Monroe grappled to grab and right the seat as Lexa refused to look at her, instead letting her head fall into her hand at the entire display.

Raven opened the backseat door as wide as it would go when Anya stepped forward.

"Clarke, tuck your head into me like you do Lexa," Anya said as she bent to scoot the woman through the door of the car, only to yank back a moment later with a garbled yell of disgust. "Not like that!"

"Anya--"

"She licked me!"

"You thaid like Lexa."

"Why did I agree to not film this?" Raven groaned and flopped back against the side of the car.

"Can we please get this shit show on the road," Lexa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took control of the chaos and began rattling off instructions. "Clarke, no licking. Anya, just get her in the car. Raven, you agreed because your friend, my wife, is a very well-respected doctor and teacher, and having a video of her licking a random woman's neck wouldn't be great for her career. Now, go start the car. Monroe… I don't even know. Thank you? And I'm sorry about all of this."

The nurse simply smiled as she reached down to unlock the wheels again and looped around back toward the clinic. "Don't worry about it. Happens more often than you'd think. She'll be out of it for a bit, but just roll with it. Keep everything clean, read the aftercare instructions, and call if you have any questions."

Exchanging a final nod of goodbye, the nurse left the group and went back inside.

"Okay, put her in, Ahn. I'll meet you on the other side."

With a disgruntled huff, Anya gave the woman in her arms another wary glance and moved to settle her into the backseat. Lexa rushed around the back of the SUV and flung the door open, slipping in and across the bench seat in the back as Anya leaned in and set Clarke down.

"Hey, Clarke? I'm gonna buckle you in now," Lexa said as she accepted the seat belt clasp Anya stretched out for her.

Clarke glared between the two of them, her hands swatting at her sides. "I'm not a child. I can do it mythelf."

"You just licked Anya's neck in the middle of a parking lot," Raven pointed out as she started the engine. "And that was after you told a random stranger that she's a whole ass angel."

"Yeah, she told her I was one inside as well," Lexa said as she clicked the buckle in place.

"Hence why we're not exactly trusting you or your motor functions right now, babe."

"But she is an angel. You are an angel," Clarke hummed, sending a hazy look of adoration to her wife while Lexa draped a blanket over her lap. "You're my angel."

"Say angel again," Raven snorted and slipped on a pair of sunglasses.

"... Sure doesn't fuck like an angel though."

"Ew, no!" Anya thundered and flung herself backward out of the door frame, dramatically heaving twice before slamming the door shut hard enough to rock the entire car.

"Clarke," Lexa hissed as her wife continued to leer.

"Huh?"

Anya grunted as she whipped the front door open and climbed in. "Why did I agree to come to this?"

Clarke's lips pooched as she sent a very wet sounding smooch in Lexa's direction. "Don't be mad, baby. I like that you're nasty in bed."

"Oh my G-- Lexa, will you please muzzle her. No one wants to hear this."

"Speak for yourself," Raven gleefully cut in as she started to pull away. "Get it, Griff! Tell us the really freaky shit."

"She lets me--"

"Clarke!" Lexa yelled while leaning forward to get her attention. Glazed eyes blinked at her in slow passes as a pout spread across Clarke's face. Sighing when she was sure she had her wife's attention, Lexa reached up and tugged a curl of blonde behind her ear. "... I promise you, whatever it was you wanted to say just now, you would wholeheartedly regret saying it later. Especially to Raven."

"That's fair actually," Raven called back as she moved them through midmorning traffic.

Clarke shifted to reach for Lexa's hand, assuring her in what Lexa supposed could be a valiant attempt at a whisper. "Don't worry, baby. I wasn't gonna tell 'em about the butt stuff."

Eyes sliding closed as a chorus of retching mingled with cackling laughter from the front seat, Lexa sat back in her seat and ran a hand through her hair.

"Not a word."

"I'm not saying anything," Raven choked out through the dying rolls of her laughter.

The car fell quiet as they drove, Lexa looking out the window and letting her mind drift. She watched the cars and hills of the outskirts of L.A. fly past as they wound their way home. Despite… well, everything, she was glad this was finally over; the final expense officially checked off of their list of 'to-do's'. She idly tapped her fingers on the leather of her seat and admired the green hillsides, smiling to herself as she thought of what came next.

They hadn't told anyone when they'd made the decision to start looking through private listings, Lexa having sworn Anya to secrecy until they'd figured out an actual plan. She wondered if she'd miss the familiar drive to their apartment, the only home she'd truly known on Earth. She was excited, if not a little nervous, but ready to take the next step with the… absolute mess of a woman beside her.

Letting her head lull back over to check on her patient, Lexa startled a bit to find watery, blue eyes already staring back.

"What's the matter?" she hushed in a soft and concerned voice, scooting closer as she reached up to brush away a rogue tear.

"You're really hot... And tho pretty."

Rolling her eyes at the dreamy words, Lexa grinned back. "Not as pretty as you."

"My wife'th gonna be tho mad at me," Clarke whined and shook her head.

"... Why is your wife going to be mad at you?" she asked with a quirk of her brow.

"'Cause I think you're really hot," Clarke confessed through a fresh wave of tears.

"Seriously can you like, knock her out or something?"

"Shut up, Anya," Lexa said as she scooted the remaining distance between them. "Clarke, darling, I promise, your wife won't be mad at you for thinking I'm hot."

"How do you know?"

"Because she's your wife, genius," Anya drawled. "I still can't believe they trust that woman with human lives."

"You're just a little doped up right now," Lexa soothed even as reached out to flick her friend on the ear. "Don't worry though, I'll take care of everything. You just relax."

Clarke blinked owlishly at her for a minute, Lexa clearly able to see the cogs grinding to life through the fog of the drugs. She smiled and nodded as Clarke's face suddenly lit up, eyebrows shooting upward as her mouth dropped open.

"Oh yeah," Clarke beamed, her head wobbling back and forth as she flopped around a little in her seat. "That is you, innit. I forgot, ha. That'th crazy."

"It is."

"Man, I am high."

"You are."

"You should kith me."

"I should not."

Lexa nearly groaned as soon as the words left her mouth.

Clarke's face fell into a devastated frown, her lip trembling as her head fell to her shoulder. "You don't wanna kith me."

"Clarke, no, that's not it--"

"I knew it. I'm tho ugly now you won't kith me anymore."

"Oh my God, stop. Just, hang on," Lexa huffed. "Raven, do you have napkins or Kleenex in here? Anything?"

She waited as Anya rifled through the glovebox, accepting the fistful of napkins along with a deep look of disdain when she passed them back. Gently cradling her wife's chin, Lexa tilted her face back up.

"I'm gonna make you a deal," she murmured as she dabbed away as much blood and spit from Clarke's lips as she could. "I will kiss you. But. You have to let me kiss you. You just sit there, okay?"

Clarke bobbed her head in a tiny nod, Lexa's heart squeezing tight at the sad but hopeful face still cradled in her palm. Once she deemed those lips as clean as she could ever hope for given the situation, Lexa tossed the soiled napkins into the seat beside her.

Bringing her other hand up, Lexa held her wife's face between her palms, a smile spreading over her lips as she took in the sight of her. The sight of laugh lines that had begun reaching out from the corners of baby blues, their recent appearance reminding Lexa how happy their life together had proven to be. She admired the few twists of grey that weaved in and out of silken blonde, the effect of them making the woman look all the more distinguished.

Running her thumbs over the apples of delicate cheekbones, Lexa leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to her wife's lips. She hummed at the familiar feeling, soft and sweet as ever, her movements steady and light so as to not cause any pain. Pulling away, she left a last peck on Clarke's upper lip, forever a slave to sealing the little beauty mark with a kiss.

"Better?" she whispered as she watched Clarke's eyes flutter back open.

Clarke was quiet as she stared back, a long moment passing before she heaved a defeated sigh.

"I couldn't feel it."

Lexa did her best to bite back a snort of laughter, head dropping forward as her chest shook with the effort. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll kiss you plenty to make up for it when you feel better, I promise."

"We're here, lovebirds," Raven announced as she pulled to a stop outside of their apartment building. Lexa squeezed her shoulder over the top of the seat in thanks as she reached for the handle. "I'm gonna stay here so my lazy ass doesn't have to find a place to park, but I'm gonna call you guys later, okay?"

Grunting in acceptance as she opened her door, Lexa hopped out and ran around the back of the car to meet Anya on the other side. A few petulant protests and a very one sided bartering war later, Lexa pressed the button to shut the doors of the elevator in their building.

Sighing as she all but collapsed back against the rail of the elevator, Lexa reached out a hand to nudge her friend's shoulder.

"Thanks again, Ahn."

"Yeah, whatever," Anya grumbled, adjusting her grip on the woman sagged at her side.

If Lexa had had the energy she would've laughed at the pair of them, knowing full well Anya was supporting every inch of the woman's weight despite Clarke's staunch insistence that she could walk.

She reminded herself that her wife's stubbornness was part of why she loved her.

"Okay, here we go," Lexa rallied as the doors slid open on their floor. "Last stretch, love, and then you can rest."

"I wanna make nachos."

"Yeah, we'll have to see about that," Lexa shook her head as she jogged ahead to unlock the door, holding it open as Anya all but dragged Clarke through the entrance of their apartment.

"Where should I put her?"

"Bedroom."

"No," Clarke said with enough ferocity it startled the pair, taking Anya particularly by surprise when she elbowed her way out of the hold and launched herself toward the couch.

Lexa felt her heart jump up into her throat as Clarke nosedived toward the cushions, landing face first into the set of pillows.

"Clarke!" she yelped, darting around the couch and crouching over her. Biting back a twitch of annoyance, Lexa pulled the woman upward and helped her flip over. "Jesus, you have got to be more careful. You could've really hurt yourself."

"I'm fine, baby," Clarke slurred, glassy eyes shining behind the low droop of her lids. "I don't feel anything. You could punch me right in the mouf and I'd be fine."

"I'm not going to punch you."

"I might."

"Goodbye, Anya. Thank you for helping," Lexa blindly called over her shoulder, "but you can go now. Raven's waiting."

"Right, right, right," Anya said, rapping a knuckle on the wall as she turned to go. "I'll leave you to take care of the little missus. Call if you need anything. Feel better, doc."

"Byeeeeeeeeee," Clarke sing-songed out to her before the door closed, shimmying in place as Lexa helped her adjust on to her back. "She's gonna go makeout with Waben."

"What else is new," Lexa grinned and pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch.

Lexa moved to take off Clarke's shoes and socks, leaning down to peck a quick kiss to the wiggly toes before tucking them under the blanket as well. After placing the shoes in their home along the front hall of their apartment, she moved to ditch the balled up socks in the laundry despite the disgruntled yowl from the plump feline stationed on top of their washer.

The jingle of Penny's collar followed her as she went about collecting the supplies listed on the aftercare sheet, piling a tiny tray up with gauze squares, water, pain medicine, and snacks.

"That'd not nachoth," Clarke said with a sleepy grump of a frown as Lexa laid the tray on the coffee table beside her.

"Not nachos. No crunchy stuff, unfortunately. Doctor's orders. But may I offer you a bowl of our finest applesauce?"

"This is bullthit."

"I know."

"You did this to me, and I'll neber forgib you."

"I know."

"Will you cuddle wif me?"

Smiling down at her wife, Lexa simply nodded and quickly tied her back into a ponytail.

"Scooch," she hummed, toeing off her shoes before gingerly climbing over to the opposite side. Lowering herself as gently as possible, Lexa fit herself into the snug space between her wife and the back of their couch. She wriggled down enough to make sure she was safe from knocking into the already swollen jaw.

"Better?" Lexa whispered as she rested her head on Clarke's chest and draped an arm around her waist.

"Mhm," Clarke said, the drowsy weight of her hum sounding peaceful and warm.

"You can't sleep with those things in your mouth."

"Not thleepin'."

Giving up that fight before it could start and deciding she'd just slip them out once the woman dozed off, Lexa snuggled in deeper, breathing in calming lungfuls of her wife's scent.

The day had been insane, which after four years of marriage she was generally used to, but overall Lexa couldn't help but pat herself on the back. She knew when the medicine started to wear off they'd both be in a world of pain, but for now, she let herself relax into the peace of the moment.

Which was promptly broken by the faint buzz of Clarke's phone.

Sighing in annoyance, Lexa dug her hand under the blanket and into Clarke's pocket to pull it out. She thumbed in the passcode, muscle memory having her click 1203 for their anniversary without a thought, and tapped to open the notification.

Asshole (11:42 a.m.): so... you're gonna tell me about that butt stuff thing later right?

"For fuck's sake, Raven." With a disgusted sigh, Lexa closed out the message and slapped the phone on the table.

Snuggling back into the snoozing body beneath her, Lexa decided she'd just have to deal with that later.

#sorry for the ugly ass moodboard just go with it #clexa #clexaweek 21 #clexaweek 21 day 6 #day 6 magic #CoA

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bumblebear30 · 3 years

Text

Oops

Rita Calhoun x Casey Novak, Established Calvak

A wee comfort fic for these two as I totally love them.

Warnings: mentions of Casey's office attack, migraine / mild medical concern. Side effects of getting older. No smut but alluded to. Happy ending.

Please let me know if you have any other prompts or requests for these two. Happy to try write more for them.

Oops

"You did it again."

The accusing tone made Casey's head snap up from where she was nestled on the couch. She could feel the light crust of dried drool on her cheek where she'd pretty much passed out into the pillow and rubbed at it with the cuff the sweater she was wearing in the hopes that her always immaculately dressed girlfriend wouldn't notice,

"Did what again?" she finally mumbled in response, a heavy pout in place as she scrunched her eyes against the bright light streaming in the apartment windows.

Rita sighed huffily as she perched on the back of the couch and busied herself with finishing taking off her earrings for the day. From there she finally caught sight of the sleep befuddled Casey - the creases of the pillow evidently pressed into her cheek, hair all mussed and cocooned in softest of old sweaters that Rita owned as the redhead obviously tried to drag her lagging brain through what it was she had done wrong this time.

Her expression immediately switched from frustration to concern as she reached out to card her fingers through Casey's hair, the younger woman automatically leaning into it and shifting closer to where Rita was sat,

"You left files that I shouldn't see on the breakfast bar again. We got a place with room for two separate offices for a reason darling."

Casey winced and opened one eye to finally look up at Rita as she apologised,

"Oops, m'sorry babe, I genuinely didn't mean to. I just needed different light. "

Rita tilted her head and gave a small sympathic noise as Casey burrowed her head against the back of the couch,

"Migraine again sweetheart?" Casey nodded groggily where she lay, loathe to commit to any movements that required further effort. Seeing her so forlorn pulled at Rita's heartstrings and she quickly got up and shed her shoes and jacket onto a nearby chair as she came round to the front of the couch to join Casey, "That's the third bad one this month..."

Hearing the familiar sound of Rita settling next to her Casey shifted to lay her head in her girlfriend's lap, wordlessly requesting for the attorney's always slightly cool hand to run across her forehead and circle at her temple as she'd done before by simply tipping her chin just so.

Of course Rita automatically took up the action, also using her free hand to run her nails in soothing circles across Casey's lower back.

The redhead let herself just bask in the attention and comfort. She'd felt instantly a bit better as soon as the scent of Rita's expensive perfume had reached her - always accompanied by the faint smell of coffee, ink and paper, a lawyerly smell if ever there was such a thing. That and the almost pavlovian way her body responded to Rita's touch, practically commanding her to relax with the lightest of pressures, also helped ease the residual pulsating ache at the front of her brain.

Afterwards she'd been sulky for days, which had drawn further unimpressed looks and rolled eyes from Rita. Eventually she'd pulled her head out of her ass and apologised with a gorgeous bouquet and an evening of pampering - cooking Rita's favourites for dinner, making the effort to use the good china and having candles on the table followed by a super indulgent bubble bath for the brunette (the rose petals may have been overboard but she knew Rita secretly adored them.)

She knew where Rita's comment was leading though. They'd had this argument discussion the last time too and she was not wanting a repeat of that general fiasco and to ultimately wallow in her own grumpiness yet again. It was worse because she knew Rita was right, and was only concerned and fussing simply because she loved her. But she had still been in residual pain and exhaustion from the migraine in question as well as licking her wounds from losing the most recent case to her lover too.

All that had only been a week ago, meaning it was less than fourteen days since she'd last had to abandon her work to lie in a darkened room with a cold compress across her eyes and an ice pack wrapped up at the base of her neck. It wasn't sustainable, and she hated being sick all the more because she knew Rita was always more worried than she let on.

She sighed lightly and wriggled her head back so she was pressed more closely into Rita's ridiculously soft silk blouse. The brunette had lifted her hands away as Casey moved but seeing her settle let them resume the gentle caresses. Noting that Casey hadn't immediately started arguing with her Rita decided to press her case once more,

"I just think given that you have such a bad head injury in your past, " Casey couldn't suppress the fearful shiver that ran down her spine at the memories - and lack of them - of her office attack, "that it would be sensible to get a doctor to run some tests and check what is going on."

At still receiving no response from Casey Rita tried to push just that little bit more. She gently ran a finger down the elegant slope of Casey's nose, booping the tip of it which made Casey start and turn onto her back to smile softly up at Rita. Holding her gaze Rita matched her with an indulgent look as she tucked some hair back behind Casey's ear,

"It's just that I'm rather fond of that brain of yours sweetheart, I'd hate to think anything might be wrong." She finished her plea by cupping Casey's chin and running the pad of her thumb over her lips as their positioning meant she couldn't reach to kiss them.

Once again Casey closed her eyes and leaned into the touch,

"And here I thought you were with me for my 'cracking bod', " she grinned as she felt Rita's entire body move as she laughed, "But I know. You're right. As usual." Her admission made Rita smile in victory, Casey's quip pulling another knowing chuckle that rumbled through her,

"Good, I have the number of an excellent neurologist, I'm sure he'll be able to see you by the end of the week."

Casey shot her a look that screamed incredulity,

"He wasn't a client was he? I'm not sure how comfortable I would be with that."

The experienced attorney did laugh at that,

"No, no," she continued to play with Casey's hair, "although he has maybe been an expert witness on several occasions but he's only ever been the utmost professional." she paused for a moment as Casey considered her options. "So what do you say darling, let me call and set up an appointment for you?"

With one last resigned sigh Casey nodded,

"Okay," honestly she was prepared to go through nearly anything if she could stop feeling so accutely crappy whenever these migraines came along, or stop them from happening in the first place.

"But," the smallness of her voice and demeanour, so unlike the usual strong confident persona of the prosecutor, brought out Rita's overprotective side even more, "But what if there is something wrong? Like-"

Deciding to quickly end any spiralling Rita pressed her finger over Casey's lip to hush her,

"Shh, then its better to know and we'll deal with whatever it may be together as best we can."

Suitably mollified, Casey rolled once more so her nose was buried against Rita's stomach, so much so her voice was muffled when she finally spoke,

"I'm sorry, I'm just worried."

"I know darling, but it may just be that you need glasses or something like that now, you know?"

The scandalised and affronted noise that escaped Casey made Rita laugh once again,

"I've always thought you'd look very sexy in glasses you know..."

The low purr of her voice drew an instant reaction from Casey, it always did. Like a siren's call she opened her eyes, feeling better enough to shoot a flirtatious look up at her love as she arched her eyebrow as seductively as she could manage in her prone position,

"Is that so?"

"Hmm hmm," Rita's affirmative humm came as she matched Casey's expression with one of her own, "You could totally pull off the sexy librarian look darling."

"Librarian!?!"

In her offense Casey finally sat up to lightly glare at Rita on a more equal footing. She lightly trailed her hand up Rita's thigh, so overly unsubtle Rita knew she was just winding her up. Still she enjoyed the attention nonetheless. "What if I wanted to go for the sexy lawyer in glasses look? Could I pull that one off too?"

Rita tipped her head to the side as she squinted at Casey, umming and awwing for extra effect,

"I'm sorry love but I think Cabot has got that niche locked down tight."

Casey couldn't help but gasp at the teasing and swat at Rita's thigh in retribution,

"Rude!"

Rita kept cackling with laughter, simply relieved to see Casey's usual firey playfulness was returning,

"Well if you get glasses you can work extra hard to prove me wrong, no?"

With a knowing smile Casey leant forward to press an adoring but chaste kiss to Rita's lips,

"Sounds good to me, thank you for helping me feel better."

Reaching up Rita cupped Casey's chin and drew her face back to her for another kiss. Or two. Maybe three. She just loved how they felt against her own.

"I'm glad I could help. Now do you want to go lock those files away whilst I give the doctor a call? We can then get an order from Chengs if you'd like?"

Casey was already making the effort to stand, holding herself still for several moments to ensure her balance was set after feeling so woozy earlier. Finding herself steady she smiled at Rita once more as she started heading for the kitchen,

"As long as there is lo mein I don't mind!"

A couple of days later Rita answered her ringing cell automatically, not even looking away from her inbox as she barked her usual response,

"Calhoun, who's speaking."

"Hey sweet thing," instantly Rita's entire posture melted, Casey's voice and determination to use ridiculous pet names totally always got her,

"Darling, how'd the appointment go." she'd swung her chair away from the computer screen, her entire focus now on Casey,

"Well you were right."

"I usually am, remind me what I was right about this time?"

"Scans and everything came back clear but I've got glasses to wear now... " Casey paused long enough for Rita to both sigh in relief and laugh,

"Oh is that all?"

"Well, he advised I change to a different type fo light bulb where possible, and definitely to wear glasses when looking at screens as they'll filter that blue light thing? But that and some proper rest and it should all help."

"That's great news sweetheart, I'm so relieved." Truly Rita felt like a knot she hadn't known was there had been released in her chest,

"Yeah, so in the spirit of medical necessity, I think we should schedule a trip up to the house in the Hampton's." Sometimes Casey still would catch herself after saying such a thing. A house in the Hampton's. Their house in the Hamptons. Quite ridiculous.

Rita chuckled but instantly swept round to open their shared calendar to look for potential timings,

"An excellent idea darling, I could even ask Danielle to get the boat ready for us? I know you love to play at being Captain."

"Please, you just want to lounge about in your bikini in front of me don't you."

"Well with your new glasses we'll have to test how much better you can see me. I do love putting on a show for you."

The flirtation made Casey gulp, images of Rita enjoying herself nearly overwhelming her,

"You always do have the best ideas, I propose we do lots of testing."

"For medical necessity?" Rita's smirk was clear even though Casey couldn't see her face,

"Exactly, you always know how to take the best care of me baby..."

#Fanfic #My writing #Rita Calhoun #Casey Novak #Rita Calhoun X Casey Novak #Calvak

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not-so-mundane-after-all · 3 years

Text

Fandom: DC Titans

Title: It’s Good To Be Home

Pairings/Relationships: Core Four, Dickkory, Dick Grayson & Rachel Roth

Summary: The Wayne Manor was truly breathtaking. Rachel heard a few stories about the place from Dick and from Donna, she even got to sneak a glance at it through their memories but actually seeing it with her own eyes was a whole different experience.

The car slowed down rounding the fountain and her heartbeat sped up in her chest. They were here.

Hugs | 13. Group hugs, Core Four - for Vanessa N Isaacs

Check out the prompt list | REQUESTS OPEN

____________________________________________

The Wayne Manor was truly breathtaking.

Rachel kept staring at it with her nose glued to the windshield of the black SUV that was taking her there. After a twelve-hour flight from Themyscira and landing in New York the Amazons really surprised her saying that they are going to escort her to Gotham and not San Francisco. Since then she was wondering what might be the reason the team relocated there (and she was hoping it was temporary) but she didn't mind as long as she'd be reunited with her family.

Right now though she wasn't thinking about that, because her mind was occupied with this enormous castle-like mansion with giant windows and high towers and open taraces and a fountain in the center of the driveway. Rachel heard a few stories about the place from Dick and from Donna, she even got to sneak a glance at it through their memories but actually seeing it with her own eyes was a whole different experience.

The car slowed down rounding the fountain and Rachel's heartbeat sped up in her chest.

They were here.

And then there was Dick - standing next to Kory with his hands in his pockets and head held high. He looked more nervous than excited and Rachel had to resist the urge to roll her eyes thinking about how frantic and worried he must have been this whole time. But when he noticed her and their eyes met, his face instantly lit up, lips turning up in a brightest smile and Rachel was getting out of the car even before the engine stopped working.

Standing in line in front of the main entrance were Dick, Kory and Gar. She had no idea they'd be notified of her arrival but apparently they knew she was coming and now there's a whole welcoming committee waiting for her. Gar was bouncing on his feet, his excitement threatening to explode like a bomb. Rachel couldn't decide what was brighter - his smile or his green hair.

Kory, gorgeous as always, was standing in the middle with her arms crossed over her chest and lips stretched in a wide happy grin. She was dressed from head to toe in various shades of her beloved purple, from high heel boots and leather pants to the shiny glittery shirt. Her long hair was darker than Rachel remembered but she smiled when she noticed that the iconic thick curls were back.

At first she just stood there, happy to stretch her legs after a long drive and looked at them, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. They didn't move either, as if paralyzed by some invisible force, watching her from a distance.

She's not sure who took the first step.

Maybe it was her, too eager to finally reunite with them after so long. Or maybe it was them, heading towards her together as one because they couldn't stand being apart for even one second longer.

She's not sure who took the first step but Dick got to her first.

All Rachel knew was that she was running and suddenly she found herself engulfed in his strong embrace, the sensation pushing all air out from her lungs. She linked her arms around his neck when he picked her up and started twirling around in circles with her, laughing into her ear. Her feet were dangling in the air and Rachel started giggling and squealing in delight as well, feeling like a little kid.

"Finally!" he sighed breathlessly when they stopped and he put her back on the ground. "Welcome back, sweetheart."

She stepped away from his hold to look at him but that's when she was captured again in two different sets of arms. She didn't even notice when Gar and Kory threw themselves at her, hugging her as tight as they could.

"It's been way too long." Kory told her, pressing a kiss to her temple. Rachel leaned her head to her and the two of them pressed their cheeks together, smiling.

"Don't leave us like that again!" Gar whined with his head on her other shoulder, squeezing her even tighter. Rachel started giggling again but this time it quickly turned into a choked up sob. She promised herself she wouldn't cry, but she couldn't hold it back now that she was with her family again.

Dick's expression softened, his eyes gazing at her affectionately.

"Oh, honey."

"I've missed you so much, guys." Rachel chuckled through tears, looking each one of them in the eyes. Dick walked up to the group and wrapped his arms around them all, pulling them into a group hug with Rachel in the middle.

"We've missed you, too, Rach." he murmured and kissed the top of her head.

"Mhmm." Kory nodded and cuddled closer.

"Like hell." Gar added and buried his face in her shoulder.

The three of them held her so tight she was starting to run out of air.

"Guys-" she gasped, trying not to laugh too much. "I can't- breathe-"

Mumbling their apologies they loosened their hold a bit, but none of them were planning on completely letting go of her. They surrounded her, arms still linked together and looking at their smiling faces, Rachel couldn't be happier. It's good to be home, even if it wasn't the Tower. Dick, Kory and Gar were here and her home was with them.

Dick's face caught her attention, his eyes to be specific and she raised an eyebrow at him, smirking.

"Are you- crying?"

"No!" he said instantly, but wiped at his cheek with the back of his hand.

"He totally is." Gar teased him, joining in on the fun. "He was one giant bubble of emotion since the moment we found out you're coming back."

"That's not true." the older man huffed.

"Oh please, that was nothing!" Kory's laugh rang in the air and Rachel turned to her with sparkling eyes. "You should have seen him in the first few weeks after you left. He was a mess!"

Gar burst out laughing, earning himself a deadly glare from Dick. Rachel couldn't stop grinning like an idiot at this entire exchange.

"Oh, yeah! He took moping around to a whole new level."

"I wasn't moping around."

"Sure, Jan."

Dick froze.

"Oh, God." Kory sighed, turning her eyes at the sky. "Here we go again." Rachel glanced between her and the boys with curiosity.

"Gar, what did I tell you about quoting memes?"

"Oh, c'mon man! It was a perfect opportunity!"

"Anyway!" Kory interrupted them with that I'm-gonna-beat-the-shit-out-of-you-if-you-don't-stop-right-now smile of hers, putting an end to their little bickering, then turned to Rachel and took her hands in hers. "After Dick finally stops denying he's overly emotional-"

"I'm not!"

"-like right now,"

"I'm not." Dick denied stubbornly, then smiled at Rachel. "I'm just happy you're back."

"-maybe you'll get to tell us how was it, hmm?" Kory finished her sentence and suddenly Rachel felt all eyes on her again. Their excitement was all over the place. She chuckled and squeezed the woman's hands back.

"Of course! I have so much to tell you!"

"Then you better start now." Gar pointed a finger at her face before walking up to her and taking her by the elbow to basically drag her in the direction of the house. "I wanna know everything! Especially if you have any new tricks up your sleeve."

Rachel shrugged innocently, but sent him a mischievous grin.

"Maybe one or two."

"Yesss!!! And wait until I'll show you around the house! This place is so dope!"

"Hey, shouldn't I be doing that?" Dick called out to them, picking up Rachel's bag from the ground where she left it.

"Exactly!" She turned to her green-haired friend. "Shouldn't he be doing that?"

"He's not gonna take you to the really cool places."

She raised an eyebrow at him, suspicious. "Such as?"

Gar glanced in both ways as if checking if no one else was listening in on their conversation, then leaned closer to Rachel and whispered. "The Batcave."

This time she couldn't hold it in anymore - she burst out laughing.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

As Gar continued his excited rambling, Rachel looked over her shoulder at the two adults that were left behind. Dick's eyes were on her this whole time, he was smiling fondly and winked at her when their eyes met. Kory stood by his side with her hand resting on his shoulder and was sending her a look that said good luck with him now. Rachel smiled back and rolled her eyes, then followed Gar through the main entrance.

***

Dick watched his kids disappear behind the giant wooden door feeling light for the first time in months. Having Rachel back took a giant weight off his chest and he finally could breathe again. He didn't want to ask about Donna, not yet at least, he knew Rachel is gonna share the news with him sooner or later, no matter if they are good or bad. Right now all that mattered to him was that she was back with them and she was safe.

"You were crying." Kory pointed out in a teasing tone, smirking at him.

"I wasn't."

"I know what I saw, Grayson."

They stared at each other for a long moment but eventually he gave up. And no, it had nothing to do with the fact that he was starting to get lost in her eyes. Or with her smile that made his heart racing.

"Okay," he sighed. "Maybe a little. I'm just glad she's back with us, you know?"

Kory smiled at him and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.

"I know, me too. Our girl is finally back home."

#dc titans #dick grayson #rachel roth #kory anders #garfield logan #titans #titans season 3 #dcu titans #graysonfam #tumblr prompt

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border-spam · 4 years

Text

Leech Lord : Jak-Knife

JK belongs to / is written by / designed by @godkingsanointed

“That Bandit’s a ghostwalker, my God-King. You don’t want ‘em here, trust me. Sometimes dead clans leave corpses behind that aren’t straight in the head enough to know that’s what they are... Crawl across the plains looking for somewhere else to belong, looking for a new family clan ‘cause all that’s left of theirs are Rakk picked bones. Seen plenty over the years, and they trail bad luck behind ‘em like a disease. That one’s marked like a Hellion, those got slag-burned into the ground by Atlas back in Old Haven. Your majesties weren’t here when that happened, but we were, and I remember. Leave them to me, the scout teams always need fresh meat for replacements.

They won’t stay alive long enough to be a concern.”

- Mouthpiece

Whether death follows JK or they sprint after it in pursuit is something they’ve never really been sure of. It could be either - some great predator snapping at their heels while they grew up in a Bandit clan that wasn’t kind to the small and gentle, or a force they are drawn to effortlessly like the migratory animals that follow Pandora’s monsoon seasons.

Could be either.

Could be both.

Same outcome they figure, so why would it matter.

They'd been a kid when it happened, well, a kid to anyone not a Bandit. In that life 16 years old is more than enough to run with a raid party, adult enough to work yourself to the bone, to show you can earn your keep when your brother is "useless" and you've got to be worth 2 bellies of food or watch as one of you goes hungry. Jak-Knife and Gutpunch, one a runt squinting up from under a stolen warrior's mask crafted for someone twice their size, the other a gentle giant born into a life that no aspect of their soul suited. They'd protected him, them with their little body and dull pocketknife versus the sometimes cruelty of a clan who's survival was based around only the fittest, only the strong staying part of it.

Not evil, just living as was needed. Pandora is harsh, there is no room for softness if you want to stay alive on her rocky flats, that's just the way things are. Nature isn't cruel, it simply is.

They were 16 when the Lance came.

16 years they'd lasted in the Hellions, till the day the gates of Old Haven had been opened for the Crimson Lance's money carriers. They'd done their job, they'd cleared the town at the request of the white Siren, been promised a home for the clan, a place to belong, and in the end, their payment came in bullets sprayed from Atlas gun barrels.

By the time JK had woken up and tried to heave Gutpunch's corpse off their back from where he'd shielded them, it had been two days. Groggy and confused, they'd panicked, desperately trying to scrabble out from under his bulk as the remaining Lance stopped piling bodies to burn and ran towards the sound of gunfire outside the gates.

Vault Hunters. Worse than the lance.

They couldn't take him with them, he couldn't move now, but they couldn't leave him like this, not a brother. Not when he was all they had who'd understood when they'd try and explain why their meat was wrong, how the flesh didn't sit right, when he was who would help them tighten rags around their chest and listen as they ground their overly developed canines and growled to the stars at night when it got too heavy to bear. They couldn't leave him behind after a life together, so they took his mask. Scrabbled at the bindings and peeled the effigy from what was left of his head. They realised as it separated from flesh that it had been all that was holding the remnants of skull together... but this was his face. The meat under it was Gutpunch, but the mask... they'd wear it now. He'd still be with them.

Jak-Knife had ran from the massacre of Old Haven on shaky legs, ducking as bullets whistled through the air around them as Crimson Lance and Vault Hunters traded fire in panicked waves. No hits, not directly, but a spray of Slag from a barrel ruptured by a narrow miss had sliced across their right, thick and acrid in the air as it burned through skin and into muscle. There had been no time to feel the pain, no time to stop, JK had run till their feet bled and the weight of Pandora's inky night blanketed them in exhaustion they couldn't fight any longer.

They'd started to stumble forward once they stirred in the morning. Like Mouthpiece said, a ghostwalker. No clan, no brother, no belonging. They walked and didn't stop for a long time.

Walked to New Haven, to the walls outside the town and a woman with her own terribly scarred face masking a heart softer than others would guess. Not a home there, not really, but allowed stay. A kid is a kid, even when wearing the blood-streaked mask of a Bandit. She couldn't turn them away.

They were 18 when Hyperion came.

Ran again amidst the screams to do so, ran into the wastes of Pandora and a world that made more sense to them than the town being torn apart behind them. Missed her though, Pierce. She'd been kind. A lot of those people had been kind, and now they were dead. Hyperion, Atlas, same thing. Just monsters lead by monsters.

They'd walked to the Slabs, to a jovial King who mocked their size with a tone that both bristled their muscle and left them feeling... welcome. Not a home there either, not really, but there had been jobs to run and food to earn. They'd been allowed stay, and so they did. Stil a Hellion though, still Slag-burned and covered in their clan's flame emblems and splashes of neon across their gear.... still wearing Gutpunch's blood coated mask.

The Slab king had heaved himself into their cramped sleeping quarters one night and whispered that there was a funeral for her soon, Pierce. They could go if they wanted, he'd whispered from under that massive helm. Told them with a gentleness they'd never heard before that he understood loss, having things you loved taken away from you for no reason bar cruelty. That he remembered Old Haven and wished he didn't. That they should go. They'd be welcome there.

So JK had walked again, out of Thousand Cut's Slab fortress and to a somber funeral in the icy fields of Three horns that was filled with Crimson Raiders - a mix of Vault Hunters and ex Lance, and stood in memorial amidst people that made the blood under their skin burn, all to show the respect she'd earned to a woman who'd treated them like a human.

A merc now they figured, easier than being a wanderer and Sanctuary needed mercs. Found themselves in the bar some nights, wary eyes glaring from mismatched lenses as they sat silently at corner tables while watching the rest of the loud patrons, back against a wall and a clear exit always planned.

She'd noticed. She liked big 'n mysterious. Liked how her flirtations rolled off them and were replied to with genuine questions about her. Quiet, gentle-voiced comments about the drinks, how well she played her marks, how clever that gunbelt around her thigh was positioned for quick access if she needed to control a situation with more than just her looks.

Moxx liked this one, and a friendship slowly bloomed into something beautiful.

It had been her who had put their name forward when the leaders of the Raiders had become concerned over the darkness slowly seeping across Pandora's horizon, of the bizarre war cries of fanatics leading raids on smaller Bandit camps and shanty towns...

The "Children of the Vault" was a name being passed through hushed whispers in slums and rot-dives, and Lilith had rolled "Calypso" across her tongue enough times when reading scout reports to know the taste it was leaving behind wasn't anything good. They wanted an in, and what better spy to infiltrate a Bandit cult than a Bandit. Someone who understood clan hierarchy, who could report back in words she could understand from a viewpoint she could never see.

JK had been... wary. To say the least. The Raiders weren't friends, they'd filled their ranks with ex Crimson Lance like they hadn't committed atrocities, they mowed down Pandora's natives like mad Skags who needed extermination, and Krieg...

They all knew of Krieg. Everyone had seen how he'd been really treated. JK certainly had, but they also knew Krieg had been one foot into the great hunger, that he'd been so close to the flood that he'd spoken in half Psycho-cant and half Bandit, and tore at his skin to sate the itch of the song that the mad ones screamed about. That the raiders would let him burn alive in a fury if it meant a successful mission, and they couldn't help but wonder how respected he'd really been. Some kind of mix between respect and pity they figured, mocked behind his back as "Just another Psycho", someone who got the job done even if he limped back covered in blood and bullet holes, but was whispered about as needing to be watched.

He had been called a Raider, and yet - masks like his and JKs covered the command room's wall like trophies. Murderers of their clans walked Sanctuaries halls and narrowed untrusting eyes even at Krieg's hulking silhouette as he passed. It wasn't right, and JK struggled to feel as welcome as the others insisted they were now that they had a use.

But they'd taken the job, because Moxxi said they should and Moxxi was clever, Moxxi cared about them and wanted to see them be happy, so they'd agreed. She had whispered in an accent they’d learned from long nights in her company was for real things and not her act, that this would help people, that the COV was worrying her more than she was concerned about getting intel to Lilith, and they'd nodded in agreement.

Bandits don't congregate, Bandits don't merge clans under one banner... they wanted to know what this beast clawing into Pandora's soil was capable of. They'd heard the rumours like everyone else, twin Sirens apparently. Bullshit, everyone knew Sirens were women and there were only 6. Jack had hammered that information through Bandit clans and across Pandora's E-Com network clear enough. These were obviously frauds using trickery to control those eager to believe, wouldn't be the first time a Siren cult had used Bandit clans as a personal army, and JK had felt roiling disgust at the realisation what they were agreeing to do for Lilith? Just another shade of the exact same thing.

Funny, wasn't it. Very funny.

So they'd walked out of Sanctuary and towards the hub of the birthing COV.

They'd been 20 when they had first seen a real God.

The Holy City didn't exist yet, just a pile of rickety buildings thrown up by worshippers that surrounded an old Dahl fortress bleaching slowly in Pandora's sun. They called it "The Cathedral", but it looked like the crumbling bones of some great dead thing jutting from the red sands like a cracked skull. Maybe those were the same thing, JK had thought. A cathedral, and a beast of the flood. Both seemed like something that should be worshipped to them. They liked this place.

Neon paint and rusty metal spines were everywhere among the shantytown, raucous laughter cut through the clang of metal, and the air itself was heavy with an unmistakable stink of unwashed bodies and leather. They felt it so quickly as they'd crunched through the dirt paths that split the weaving rows of scrapped together tents, making their way to the recruitment line. A fleeting tickle of a sensation that hadn't filled their belly in so long. That this was like...

home.

The twins themselves were cagey and difficult to pull usable intel about. They gave sermons from the crumbling balconies of the fortress to the swathes of screaming acolytes below, too far for JK to get a clear eye on them but dressed like Sirens at least. Swirling loops of pacifying blue along the woman, and the man... jagged lines and curved whorls of a vicious red they'd never seen on any living or dead Witch. He was off. That one was wrong, and his sister made her agreement on that clear enough in how she acted next to him. She was the star, she was in the limelight, and he was relegated to a place behind her when she spoke to her worshippers and basked in their screeched worship. Odd for a "God-King" to be left in shadows, they'd thought.

Odd indeed.

They reported back to Lilith in Sanctuary whenever the opportunity arose to leave the growing "City", cult movement, basic info on what they could see as a blossoming threat to raiders, and it was always met with sneers of disgust and pity. Monsters, she'd sighed. Just using the bandits as fodder. JK's eyes flicked to the masks decorating the trophy wall behind her.

"Whatever you say, commander".

Mouthpiece had kept his word. Fully aware of what had happened to JK's clan and uncomfortable with seeing something he believed to be a walking curse among the COV's war parties, he'd purposefully sent them on suicide runs with some of the less physically capable recruits. "Trial by fire" he saw it as, simple logic when it came to survival on Pandora. Let the weak earn their place - if they die, they die. That's the law of the land, and losing the soft only leaves the clan stronger. Except, JK' scout parties just kept coming back. It had seemed almost a fluke the first couple of times, scouts didn't last long after all, but as it repeated again, and again, Mouthpiece and higher members of the raid parties began to notice.

A combination of Hellion war training and their years of working side by side with their brother had left an understanding of why having others watch your back was more beneficial than only caring about your own neck, especially when you weren't as big as the next guy. JK was a survivor, they'd never been willing to lay down and die so the rest of the clan could be down a "weak link", and their knife-edge instincts merged with a care for the other scouts not usually seen amongst Bandits meant they were teaching the team. Unifying them as a group who responded to signal whistles, barked cant, warcries that triggered defence formations and eyes on flanks. They were leading without being called a leader, and as that first year slowly ticked by, they were being noticed.

Sharp eyes that scrutinised numbers and statistics were watching the growing ratio of successful raids to lost bodies from the recessed shadows of the looming Cathedral while Jak-Knife trained and barked orders at recruits in the garrison that sprawled in the white hot sunlight below, and eventually, the day came where the God-King knew their name.

They'd stood shoulder to shoulder with their boys as they lined facing the burning light at Mouthpiece's demand. The mask lenses had done barely anything to block out Pandora's vicious sun as he'd approached, and they'd shuddered at the warchief's hissed warning to show due respect, or die where they stood. He wasn't accepting of failure, they knew that from the hushed whispers that spread across the camp at night. He expected perfection, and word from within the now sprawling architecture of the growing Cathedral was that neither twin took insult lightly. She sucked the life out of the undeserving and he, well, he supposedly just ripped heretics clean apart.

Father Troy had been all sharp angles and gaunt bone as he'd stopped his slow pace in front of them and hunched to lean down to their eye level. They'd realised how wrong they'd been about his appearance as the heavy furs that splayed across his shoulders like a mantle blotted out the sun behind him and framed his jagged silhouette in light.

Tyreen wasn't short.

Troy was a monster.

It had been hard to pick up on his scale when they'd only seen him next to his sister, they'd just figured she was a smaller woman and him a tall man, but the reality of his size was beyond intimidating now that they could see with frightening intimacy that the scrapped together prosthetic that he held at his side so effortlessly was as long as they were tall.

A glint of gold teeth through a smile they'd thought more Skag than human snapped them out of their shock, and he'd congratulated them. Thanked the "Jak-Knife" he'd been watching so closely for their excellent work on the field, waved the disturbingly proportioned metal claws of his arm towards their team and praised their group promotion, slathered honey-thick words from a barbed tongue about how they'd be blessed by being the honour guard for a God now - a fine reward for their outstanding work... yes?

The others had gasped in stuttered praise and whimpered thanks while Jk had nodded respectfully, knowing damn well that Calypso wasn't really asking at all.

The newly titled vanguard escorted him everywhere, and that meant a shift in JK's life within the blossoming city that they could not have prepared for. They no longer slept on bare ground when not visiting Sanctuary for updates, they were brought into the twin's cathedral, were able to see its glory with their own eyes for the first time. The inside wasn't anything like the still decrepit outer walls surrounded by scaffolding that workers scurried across like ants, it was like nothing Jak-Knife had ever seen.

A bastion of worship, vast cavernous stone halls spread with clan banners in colours they'd almost forgotten, neon blazing lights framing sprawling stained glass windows depicting Saints and Clergy who's names they'd heard but never put a face to.

Ur-Aurum, scowling from under heavy brows, framed in monochrome and gold. Coins and bullets pouring from his open palms.

Ur-Machina, sharp and vibrant in reds and coppers, oil-stained hands resting gently on the slab of gilded war tech she rested daintily against.

Ur-Vendit, pristine in parallel lines and perfect angles, sneering through a swathe of shining colours as numbers and cash totals ran like ivy through the window's frame.

And something new that had been being assembled along the great hall when they first entered, a half-finished window titled "Oracle" - just the fine lines of lead and a great, staring eye all that they could make out as they followed the priest irritably urging the vanguard group to hurry as they were lead to their chambers.

For the first time they had experienced, JK not only belonged, but they were envied. Their gear was decorated, armour and weapons upgraded at the Father's blessing, and the titles that came with the role were impossible to avoid, whispered in reverence by warriors who would have spat at their feet only a few years ago.

God-King's chosen, God-King's first, God-King's hand, the nods of respect passed to them by warlords like Mouthpiece in passing filled their chest with pride under the weight of its binder, and the trips back to Sanctuary became... harder.

For all they had achieved within the now monstrous in scale COV, the Raiders saw them no differently than they had when they'd first sat alone in Moxxi's. They were still a Bandit, and nothing more. JK was side-eyed, muttered about, treated like an outsider who needed to earn their keep by passing on intel they were risking their life for, all while in the back of their mind being more than aware that they could have this place raised to the ground with a damn WORD. Lilith didn't understand what it meant to be as close to Calypso as they were, that they were beginning to earn his ear.

She wasn't aware that a fucking God cared about their opinion enough to ask for it on long technical rides or when escorting him between meetings, to her, and to the rest of the Raiders, they were still simply a lost native behind a mask that was being handed scraps of decency by people better than them - and the strain of that reality was difficult to ignore. Moxxi tried her best, always there to console and remind them she valued who they were, the beautiful mind they had shared with her in tender moments and long intimate conversations over the last few years, but the insult burned in their gut still.

They weren't just Jak-Knife. They were the God King's chosen, and they were betraying someone who valued them to share internal information on Saints and departments, cashflow and raids, with people who willingly partnered with the Crimson Lance, people who just plain did not seem to understand who they were, what they had earned through sacrifice and blood shed.

But Troy? The longer they spent around Troy the more his own mask began to slip, and the harder it came to see him as any form of enemy. The blessed Father couldn't hide his weak spells or the times illness left him barely able to stand from a bodyguard who was at his side almost every waking moment, there was no way to do so regardless of how much he clearly wished there was. JK saw everything... the spasms, the fainting, heard the whistling of weak lungs when in silence next to the damaged God, saw the black circles under his eyes that the expertly applied makeup he wore could hide at a distance. He'd been aggressive about it at first, vicious and hurtful in his reactions when they'd try and assist, but over time, as they made clear that the mockery and pity he was expecting was not going to come, he'd softened. He'd thanked Jak-Knife one night as they scraped together a fire on the salt flats to chase the bitter cold away and keep their king warm.

A God had looked at them with ice blue eyes that reminded them of a face they could no longer remember, and whispered genuine appreciation for them. How could they continue to betray him. How could they hurt him for people who didn't even count JK as human?

They saw a delicate and sickly side of one of the twin God's that felt wrong to share with the raiders, that left a bad taste in their mouth to discuss with Lilith, so they simply didn't. The rationalised that the raiders did not need to know about the self-doubt or painful loss JK saw crack through Troy's facade in private, the raiders didn't need an update on how one of the twins wasn't healthy, that he could struggle sometimes to get to his feet before an audience, or would need a discreet support from the solid weight of their muscle next to his spindly frame after some events.

Lilith didn't need to know it, and as time passed, JK found they were beginning to keep secrets. Little ones at first, justified under the intel not being valuable, but the ease of witholding useful data only increased. Their position, the growing camaraderie with the COV's grunts and militia, the respect in the eyes of worshippers who looked to the Vanguard all fed into the slow realisation that their loyalty simple did not belong to the Vault Hunters, it was to Moxxi, who loved them. It was to Troy, who every day became closer to the memory of Gutpunch they'd try and visualise on lonely nights, see his crooked smile and cool eyes flicker across a face they could no longer place.

The closer JK got with the man behind the King's mask, the harder it became to give over information to the raiders that had any real tactical value...

And that had been Troy's plan, ever since the day he'd discreetly planted a tracker on them while they'd squinted against the blinding sunlight to first look into the face of a God.

#Bl3 #Borderlands #Borderlands 3 #Troy calypso #Tyreen calypso #Leech Lord #Sbsart #My hcs #My writing

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wkemeup · 5 years

Note

I gotta know how Bucky's mom and sister reacted to learning that he only knew the reader for a couple days like that must've been so weird to explain when they showed up all lovey dovey as if they'd been together for months

I’m With You - Masterlist

“James seems really happy, doesn’t he?”

At the sound of Mrs. Barnes voice, Peggy glanced up from behind Steve’s shoulder as he meticulously counted through their won stack of Pictionary cards. He was muttering to himself, grumbling about how they should have gotten the card for ‘Fish in a Barrel’ if Bucky hadn’t said it as the buzzer was going off.

Mrs. Barnes was smiling as she watched you and Bucky in the kitchen, pulling more leftovers from the fridge and restocking the popcorn bowl. His arms were wrapped around your waist from behind, his chin tucked into your shoulder as you tried to shrug him off, laughing, tapping at his forehead, but he only held on tighter. He had on the kind of smile that wrinkled up by his eyes.

“I don’t think he just seems it. It’s been a while since any of us have seen him smile like that,” Peggy replied, his fingers scratching along Steve’s back to ease some of that overly competitive tension out of his shoulders. He started to relax a bit, as he always did.

“Been quite the weekend for him, huh?” Steve muttered under his breath off handedly as he kept his eyes trained on those cards like he just might count them again.

“Weekend?” Rebecca asked as she tossed another cracker into her mouth.

“Yeah, they met like two days ago on the flight down here,” Steve shrugged and Rebecca choked out Ritz dust until her mother provided her with a glass of water. That finally pulled away Steve’s attention from the game, and the look on Rebecca’s face – the wide eyes, the parted lips, the ‘I’m sorry, what?’ expression – had Steve sending an apologetic look in her direction. “Did you not know that?”

“How is that possible?” Rebecca gaped, taking another sip of water to wash down the cracker she’s nearly choked on. “Bucky is notoriously closed off and emotionally stunted.”

She glanced at her mother who was still watching you and Bucky in the kitchen heating up leftovers for the group. He kept trying to kiss your cheeks as you plated the meatballs and you finally resorted to brushing a glob of barbeque sauce on his nose.

“Does this not surprise you?” she asked her mother.

“Not at all,” Mrs. Barnes replied simply. She sighed, turning away from the kitchen to pat her daughter’s leg. “My son has always been a romantic. Perhaps not the version James who returned home from war, but the boy I raised believed in fairytales. He believed in love at first sight and soulmates. He knew love when he saw it and he wasn’t afraid of the fall.”

She rubbed at Rebecca’s knee, glancing back into the kitchen to find you scooping the sauce off his face with a suppressed giggle and giving in to finally kiss him sweetly on the mouth; the two of you laughing and teasing more than doing your job, but no one seemed to mind.

“He was different when he came home. Both times. Though, the second was worse because he lost you,” she continued to say, looking to her daughter.

Rebecca’s clenched her jaw, a wave of guilt washing over her face and Peggy quickly reached out for her hand and squeezed it lightly, a gesture she appreciated.

“This is the James I know,” Mrs. Barnes said fondly, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s waist until Rebecca’s head fell against her shoulder. Peggy found herself leaning into Steve. “So, no, I’m not surprised at all.”

Just then, you and Bucky made your way back into the living room, carrying trays of food and giggling under their breath, sharing glancing and blushes covering their cheeks. Bucky seemed to have noticed the sudden silence and the myriad of eyes staring in their direction as he slowly set down the food.

“What? You guys talking ‘bout me?”

“Only good things, my dear,” Mrs. Barnes replied with a wink, and though Bucky remained apprehensive, the smile quickly returned to his face as you curled up against his arm. He pressed a kiss to your hairline, a hand stroking gently along the outside of your thigh while the other reached for a fry and held it to your lips, which you accepted with a grin.

Even Rebecca began to see what her mother did.

Bucky Barnes was a man in love.

And he was loved in return.

Perhaps neither of you could admit that to yourselves quite yet, it all happening so quickly. But you had survived an emotionally draining weekend together, supported one another through heartbreak and guilt, saw parts of one another most couples didn’t venture to explore until months down the line. You skipped steps, sure, but it didn’t make your affection less valid.

Bucky reached for the timer, tossing a teasing challenge at Steve who looked about ready to throw hands if Peggy didn’t start tracing her nails down his spine. You were laughing, rubbing your hands together in anticipation. Mrs. Barnes was sitting back, drinking her tea and observing quietly.

And Rebecca? She was smiling. Hoping to make up for lost time.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine

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pink-peony-princess · 4 years

Text

Laughter is the best medicine

"Oh baby, what's the matter?" Shawn asked softly as he walked into his young daughter's room for the third time in the space of an hour. It had been one of those nights, and Shawn found himself resenting the fact that after a long day of work at the local hospital as an emergency doctor he couldn't just sit and enjoy a night on the sofa with his wife.

However as he turned the corner into his daughter's room, any hint of this lingering feeling feel away. Instead replaced with extreme concern as he made eye contact with the little girl, laying pitifully on the small bed.

He felt a lump rise in his throat. He was worried, Skylar his three year old daughter was his world and he and his wife Gracie had tried for so long for this precious little girl.

This worry only magified, a sick pit churning his insides as he took in the bright red, wet and snotty face of his distraught girl. The expression on the small girl's face would pull at the heart strings of anyone, but for Shawn this was coupled by the knowledge that something had to be seriously wrong for Sky to cry like this. She was normally such a happy child. And she had been anything but that today.

Initially Shawn wasn't too worried, as much as he detested seeing his daughter under the weather, he also knew it was flu season and being too small still to get a vaccine and attending kindergarten put her at risk. This was different though. This wasn't the cry of a child that was a little uncomfortable from the flu, this was full unchecked sobbing.

"Sky, sweetheart, Daddy needs you to take a big breath okay?" He whispered, sitting on the bed and wrapping the small girl in his embrace. He could feel her curling and uncurling her hands as she grabbed fist fulls of his worn-out pyjama shirt, something she did when she was trying to comfort herself. She was so tiny compared to his nearly 6'2" frame, yet she seemed to instantly melt into her father's warmth. Her little face was hot with the tears she cried, now buried in his chest, damp hair stuck to forehead from sweat.

Shawn hummed softly as her cries turned to soft whimpers. He tried not to move even as she fidgeted, trying to find a comfortable position. It was now almost nine PM and Gracie had put Sky to bed almost 3 hours ago in the hope that the two of them might get to have a rare, movie and cuddle night, something that seemed so rare these days with Shawn's job as an Internal Medicine resident. Before marriage four years ago he and Gracie would spend every weekend together watching their favourite movies, but then life got busy. Shawn had really been hoping for this night, but somehow both he and Gracie knew that it wasn't going to happen.

Sky hadn't really moved from her bed all day, something which both her parents found extremely worrying considering the usual boistirus energy that seemed so endless. And now here they were, Shawn trying desperately to comfort the small girl.

"How is she?" He heard Gracie ask from the doorway. Her voice shook, clearly she was trying not to cry and Shawn's heart gave another pang as he wished he had the ability to comfort his overwhelmed and exhausted wife and ill daughter simultaneously.

He wished nothing more than to be able to take both of his girl's pain, to make everything alright again.

"Feel sick," the small girl spoke before he had the chance to answer Gracie.

"I know pretty girl. Can you tell daddy where it hurts?" He asked, placing a hand on his daughter's forehead, feeling the heat of a raging temperature. 3 years as an internal medicine resident told him that her fever had to be over 100. Worryingly warm for anyone, especially someone as young as Skylar.

"Gracie, he spoke, turning to the door, "Will you bring an ice pack and the children's tylonol please."

His wife nodded, smiling at Sky, but Shawn saw the way she wiped a tear from her face surreptitiously as she left the room, her footsteps on the stairs the only other sound than his little girl's soft cries.

The little girl on the bed whimpered, confirming what he knew already. She was feeling miserable.

"Sky-sky, will you let daddy make you feel better? Can I use the boom-boom tool to listen to your chest?" He asked softly, using the name his daughter used to refer to his stethoscope.

She nodded mutely. Her cries softening ever a tiny bit, helping to ease some fo the hurt Shawn was feeling. He felt so helpless, something he was not used to. He was accustomed to being able to deal with issues, to staying calm under pressure when everyone else was a mess, to being clinical, methodical. This was different though, this was his little girl, his pride and joy, his precious little bundle. He couldn't help but pull the small girl just a little closer as he called down to his wife.

"Gracie will you grab my bag off the counter?" He requested, loud enough that he hoped she'd hear, but not too loud to startle Sky, who was finally starting to settle slightly.

Moments later Gracie re- appeared, ice-pack, Tylenol and, his work bag in hand.

"Want me to take her?"She whispered, nodding to Sky.

Shawn nodded, gently passing his daughter to her mother, earning a small whine.

"It's all right Sky-sky," she soothed kissing her head as Shawn had done earlier.

Shawn stood up and dug through his bag quicky, pulling out his stethoscope, otoscope and a few other bits he thought he might need before letting the bag drop to the floor- his ID badge falling out in the process. He didn't care though, his only thoughts on his little girl.

By the time his was sitting on the bed again (a mere 30 seconds later) small tears were rolling down Sky's cheeks, the familiar pang of hurt and worry reappeared as he tried fruitlessly to calm down the small girl.

"I know honey. I know," He murmured, gently rubbing circles onto her back as Gracie held her. "Daddy make it better okay."

Finally when she was calm enough he picked up his stethoscope and placed in gently to Sky's back, listening to her lungs.

"Gracie can you turn her to face me?" He asked. His wife turned Sky, earning another whine, but Shawn was quick to make her laugh, sticking his tongue out at her as he sat and listened.

He was quick to finish the rest of the exam, listening to her heart, looking in her nose, throat and ears before finally taking her temperature.

"All done princess." He smiled at his daughter, while showing his wife the thermometer which read 104. He and Gracie shared a worried glance as Sky held her arms out, making grabby hands at her father, Shawn not hesitating to take the small girl again.

"Someone's popular!" Gracie laughed as Sky rested her head on her father's chest.

"What do ya think it is?" Gracie asked watching as her daughter drifted in and out of sleep, moving restlessly on her husband's lap.

"I'm fairly certain it's just some sort of tummy bug she's picked up from kindy,"Shawn replied as he stroked his thumb down the side of his daughter's face. Nothing major, but I really want to get some medicine in her system to break this fever. If it doesn't break by morning I'll take her in to see Connor," He added, referring to one of his colleagues, and the only one he trusted with his daughter's health.

Half an hour later they'd somehow convinced Shy to take the dose of Tylenol, the ice-pack resting on her forehead as she slept peacefully in her father's arms in her bed, Gracie asleep in the across the room Shawn having managed to let him take 'this shift' though Gracie didn't need to know that her husband had no intentions of letting her be stuck awake with their daughter any longer. He knew she was exhausted and needed sleep.

Shawn wasnt overly concerned, pleased that she was getting the rest she needed, however this was broken and the two parents were on high alert once more as Sky began moving, twisting in her father's soft grasp and whimpering in her sleep.

"Sky?" Shawn spoke softly so as not to scare her. Her small eyes opened immediately whelling with tears alarming Shawn. Gracie rushed over from the rocking chair- tripping sleepily on Shawn's bag which lay in the same spot as earlier- where she had been sleeping uncomfortsbly, trying in vein to help. "What's wrong Sky?" Shawn asked again."Sick," She groaned and before either Shawn or Gracie had a chance to react she had thrown up- all over the bed, herself and Shawn , wailing as she realised what she'd done.

"SSH, it's okay bubba," Shawn tried to calm the child down as he wiped some of the sick from his sweat pants.

"Go and get changed, I'll bathe her and change the sheets," Gracie sighed, stiffling a laugh as she took in her husband. Even in this state he STILL managed to look hot. How he did it, she didn't know.

Shawn nodded greatfully, getting up and leaving his wife to deal with the remaining mess.

By the time Shawn returned, doning a fresh set of sleepwear, his hair slightly damp from the shower he had been forced to take, his little girl was laughing. And not just a little bit, she was laughing hysterically at something.

",What's so funny?" He inquired only getting more laughter. It was another two minutes before Gracie pulled herself together enough to explain.

" Sky was laughing at having vomitted on Daddy,clearly the shock of the situation has warn off," She grinned.

"So youre laughing at Daddy getting puke on me?" Shawn smiled shaking his head. "You're puke I might add," he shock his head as his daughter giggled even more.

"I'm glad she seems to be feeling a bit brighter, Shawn spoke softly to his wife as they watched as their little girl, calmed, going from laughing hysterically to soft snores in no more than a minute and a half.

"I'd feel better if she was in our room tonight." He added.

"Me too, " Gracie agreed, watching as Shawn carefully picked up their sleep oh daughter.

"Apparently laughter is the best medicine." Shawn smiled down at his little girk, sound asleep in his arms.

"That it is." Gracie agreed, the two sharing a quick kiss, before the two made their way to their bedroom, their precious bundle cuddled up between them... A bucket sat at the side if the bed just in case.

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagines #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes blurb #doctor!shawn #mendes triplets #werewolf!shawn #peter mendes #raul mendes #shawnblr

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 4 years

Text

Synergy - Part 2

Part 1

This is Part 2 of the first DamiRae I ever wrote... And it is long overdue. @ravenfan1242 Happy belated birthday!!!

Prompt List

---------

Figures.

A dark brow flew up as Damian motioned for Raven to board the plane ahead of him. Therein lay another poorly packaged excuse to check out her ass or legs. She had already caught him tonight.

Twice.

Ignoring a prickle of panic, the heels teetered her up the stairs. But moments later, the blinds drew up around a pale face at the window. Narrowed blue-violets scanned the tarmac, observing the animated conversation in Arabic. After he finished up with the attendants, long legs lifted him onto the jet with an irritating amount of ease.

Instead of taking a seat, Damian excused himself to prattle on some more. This time with the pilot.

A slew of impatient texts rapidly fired off to Beatrice. As more time was allotted to Damian, Raven increasingly relied upon her assistant. Since the initial meeting, they'd had over a handful of dinners. Accounting for flights and travel time, she'd probably been with him in the last month more than she had anyone.

As she typed, she glanced down at her blue-black nails with concern. Another side effect of breaking out of usual patterns - a lot of time between nail appointments. Although her veneer was overall impeccable, there was but the slightest crack breaking through to the surface.

An alabaster neck craned subtly in the direction he had disappeared to. She wasn't eager for his return or anything trite like all that.

But really, where was he?

He was certainly taking a while.

Did he think his time was more valuable than her own? They had barely discussed work when they were together. So what was to be accomplished between them, really? What was Damian trying to do - actually get close to her?

Suddenly, the familiar shuffle of Brioni loafers left her to ponder these deceitful thoughts no longer.

Finally.

Raven gave his olive-green sweater and black trousers a once-over. The hue managed to contrast with his dark skin in a distracting way, while simultaneously bringing out the color of his eyes, an arresting vert.

It was undeniable and utterly unfair for someone so aggravating to look like that.

Stupid, sexy Damian...

"Wayne. Thanks for dinner. You do have great taste." Raven noted. "I was skeptical about the use of your plane to take me to a ranch in Montana, but it was the best burger I've ever had..."

A hardened jaw slackened at her assessment. "Glad it was up to your standards, Roth."

"So far." Raven backtracked. "The best burger I've had so far." She couldn't concede completely.

"Tch..." He clicked his tongue in the way he did. "Next time, we'll swing by the coast and maybe get some ceviche..." Damian began, telling her what her future plans would be with an air that stunned and excited her. And he sat beside her, all the while moving closer to her, her hand laying on her cheek. "Or we'll do a weekend trip. Get some poke at this little stand on the side of the road in Hawaii -"

"Wait..." Raven held up a hand, recoiling slightly. Her indigo eyes flashed. "Damian?"

Damian let out a humorless laugh. "Is something wrong? Is it the fish? We have had sushi twice."

"No, not wrong...exactly." The pale girl worried the rose-colored skin of her lip.

"Alright, then." With that, Damian leaned back in his seat.

"What are you doing?" The man turned to her as if she was crazy.

"I thought I was having a good evening." His jaw was no longer loose, it tensed. Twitched. "What is it now, Roth? Do you have a problem? Or an itch?"

That patronizing attitude only confirmed her need to keep their distance.

"Just one." A pale finger gestured to the top of the sleek, white leather and polished cherry wood cabin. "Why are you sitting so close to me?"

His lips pressed into a hard line. "It's my plane. I'll sit where I want." Damian said definitively, offering no other explanation.

He was so irritating in that way.

"It's a large enough plane to comfortably seat twenty - at least." Raven tried. "Surely you can sit somewhere else besides next to me?"

The deep voice was barely inflected and unwavering. "I want to sit here."

"Your legs are longer than mine - that one has more leg room." Raven pointed across the aisle. "And you'd have the adjacent seat for even more room."

"Hmm. Still, no. I'm sitting here." The calloused hand tapped the arm of the seat, slowly, one thick finger at a time.

Raven gritted her teeth. "Damian, please."

"Make me."

"Make you?" Raven blinked rapidly.

She could barely believe the words she was hearing him speak aloud.

"Yes." The white teeth sparkled brilliantly against his deep skin. "If you want me to move so badly, why don't you make me?"

"Oh, I see." Raven smirked. "Are you finally making the change from a man-child to an actual child?" She retorted with her arms folded. "Long overdue, if you ask me."

"Yes, Raven," Damian echoed. His tone grew steadily more self-righteous. "I'm a child. And this child can sit anywhere he wants on his "PJ"."

"No. I am not going to stand for this." There were some things that were inexcusable. And this was one of them. "I know it's yours, but please - never call it that again. It's a private jet. It is not a PJ -"

Damian continued his tirade, as if she hadn't spoken. "And this child wanted his apartment, but of course you had to have your way there, as well."

Here we go.

Was this whole maneuver some ploy to seek petty revenge? "Fine." Raven retorted. "You like your planes and your cars, but Damian: Why won't you just find another apartment?"

"I'll have you know, I do have other things I desire - things that are not solely materialistic." Damian appraised her openly and received a series of smoldering embers. "And for the record, I have found a place..."

"Well, good." Raven mumbled. "That's great..." She tried again, but she was overtaken by an odd sense of loss. "Really great." The apartment was a source of guaranteed discord between them; it was something they bickered about consistently. And though she was happy for him, they had built up a rapport on top of this (supposed) slight. What would become of their banter without a collective source of contention? "Was yours also your first?"

"My first...?" He curiously searched her. "The first apartment I bought on my own - yeah." With the lessening of crackling static, the air in the cabin had begun to shift.

"Congratulations..." Raven offered. "Our firsts, they're always milestones..." And she swallowed. "So, I guess we can move on."

Damian repeated wistfully, "you want to move on from this?"

"Yes." The pale girl exhaled, relaxing her posture a fraction. "You lost the place you wanted initially, but maybe this one will be better?" She flicked the arm of his seat coyly. And Raven couldn't resist the compulsion to get one last dig at Damian. "Though, I doubt it." She hissed. "Second. Place."

"There." Damian growled, as if she had proved his point. "It's because of that..." He paused. "You say you want to move on, but you don't." Then he sighed, carving a rough hand harshly through his hair. "I - want so badly to like you, Roth. But, you just can't resist pushing my buttons. And gloating."

"I don't gloat, I'm confident." Raven spat. "And confidence comes from knowledge and experience, not arrogance." She was a CEO after all.

"Alright, bravado is good in business..." Damian licked his lips. "But, does that over-inflated ego satisfy you at the end of the night when you're alone in your office?"

Her dark bob shook at the lecherous undertone. "What are you getting at, Wayne -"

"You alone in your office, Roth..." His voice, it had gone dark and decadent. "Sliding off your Jimmy Choos under your desk and sinking back into your chair... To slip a hand up your thighs under one of your tight pencil skirts..." An angry flush was rising on a pale face. But her body warmed at his words, as it, like her eyes, found Damian a pleasurable point. And it too betrayed her. "Or how about in bed? I bet when you finally lay yourself down on top of those thousand thread count sheets, it's just you and your bloated ego. Does it manage to keep you warm at night?"

"Actually, yes. It does. But, thank you once again for your overly-invested concern." It was true about her ego. But if it ever didn't, she had a steady rotation of men to do it for her. "If you think you're going to shock me, you can't." She deadpanned. "Think about me alone, quite a bit, Damian?"

"You didn't answer my question..." The beautiful smile was cruel. "Raven, I'm not talking about the... uh, toys you've collected to keep you warm. I mean, have you ever had a real relationship?"

"Are you prying to prove a point?" Raven raised a brow. "In case you were asking "for a friend", you should know that, I have."

"I find that hard to believe." Damian scoffed.

As if.

"I think you're... projecting." Her heartbeat surged as she countered. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"There's that misdirected overconfidence making you assume things again."

"Misdirected? No, I think... you've never been in a relationship." Damian glared, she could even see his nostrils flare. "No... I know you haven't. You wanted to find out if I had been though... You've also mentioned, what did you call them... my toys - several times before now. So the question is why?"

"It's not as a big deal as you're making it." He rolled his eyes and settled back into his plush seat, facing away from her. "You're delusional."

Damian wanted to end this; he knew he was going to lose. But Raven was not going to end this. Not yet. She faced him. "So you're obsessed with my love life? I think I know why."

"I'm not doing this with you," He growled. With a click his seat belt came undone. "You're off base, Roth. You're not as perceptive as you think." Damian motioned to his temple.

Raven realized faintly that she did indeed "make him". But she no longer cared about that.

No. This had become so much more.

"I'm every bit as perceptive as I think I am." Pale hands unbuckled her own seat belt and inched closer. Damian started to rise, pulling out his phone, suddenly finding it fascinating.

"Sit down, Damian." Raven forced him back down into the white leather, and his phone clattered to the ground. Damian probably could have overpowered her, but he allowed it, just like she knew he would. "You wanted to sit here, this plane is your real estate, so don't change seats on my account. I'll accommodate you."

"You're - crazy." Wide emeralds darted around madly.

"Yes, I am." She leaned on either side of his arm rests. Raven had caged him in. "You knew that already. And yet you keep inviting me out."

"What are you doing?"

"Proving my point." She gripped his hair in a fist. As his cool façade cracked. The faintest hint of pink rose up his cheeks, as he glared at the floor. Damian refused to meet her eyes, but she wanted to see it. The seconds leading up to the break, when he gave in to her. Raven pulled his hair back with a devious, self-satisfied smirk, forcing him to look up.

In what was so obviously a last ditch effort to keep his pride, he growled, "Roth, I'm warning you. If you don't get your highfalutin manicured talons off me -"

"You'll what, Wayne?" His Adam's apple dipped down again. Damian was all bark and no bite when it came to her.

They both knew that.

"Do it, Raven. By all means, test me..." Underneath, she could hear a faint plea masked by his harshness.

"I bet you'd like it if I did." And Raven knew he longed to see what she was up to.

Raven concentrated on the widening stare of deep jade, finding herself transfixed. That unique shade, so much darker and more dangerous than dollars. Damian's dollar bills... She could recall to mind a certain photo shoot. But in her mind, it was decidedly less philanthropic.

Damian Wayne. Hard and sculpted under taut, rich caramel. Supine and outstretched. Enticing with nothing but dollars sliding down his decency. Down and down they fell... Raven licked her lips, feeling famished after that huge meal. But in a way that was more carnal.

"What the hell are you staring at anyway?"

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pinkpeonyprincessblog · 4 years

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