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harryissuchalittleshit · 3 years

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Connecting Flights

For @trainingprompttuesday and @petalstosarah happy Tuesday, I loved this prompt (obviously I wrote so much), I feel like this just made the best meet cute for Hermione and Ron!

Can also read on Ao3

Hermione cursed as she tried to fit her suitcase into the overhead bin of the airplane. She had just ran all the way across the airport in twenty minutes to get to her next flight, it would the last time she ever got on back to back flights like this.

Part of her was excited, she had been ready to come home a few weeks after leaving cold and dreary London for her abroad course in Australia. A whole year away from everything she had known, studying law and researching their political landscape. It had been interesting to say the least, but she missed her family and her friends, she missed her favorite coffee shop and flirting with the cute barista. Hell, she even missed her roommates coming home drunk in the middle of the night and playing their music as loud as they thought they could get away with.

She missed her own little part of London that was her home.

Hermione walked down the length of the plane, looking for her seat while also trying not to hit anyone with her laptop bag and purse. She wished that she had gone home for Christmas, she’d had the two weeks off while the government was closed, but had decided to stay away because part of her knew that she wouldn’t go back if she came home early.

She fell down into her seat with a small sigh, she had known that wearing flip-flops was a bad idea, but it had helped her get through TSA so quickly and all her other shoes were heels. Her flip-flops had seen better days, she had only packed them on a whim as she never had much used for them in England, but she had worn them every day in Australia, even if it was just so she didn’t have to wear her heels around the office.

Her officemates had joked about knowing wherever she was by the slip-slap of her shoes, much better than the click-clack of everyone else. It was a story that Hermione knew for a fact that her friend Harry would think was hilarious. He and his fiancée, Ginny, were picking Hermione up from the airport when she finally landed, apparently Ginny’s brother was flying in from a connection in Athens’s too.

Hermione listened carefully to the safety briefing by the flight attendants before they took off. She was exhausted, she had barely slept on her first plane ride that morning, and being up in the air again just made her feel even more exhausted.

She had just taken out her laptop and put in her earphones when the man in the seat next to her stood up.

“’cuse me.”

Hermione sighed and let him pass through, briefly taking note of him. He was incredibly tall, with short red hair, pale and freckly skin, and Hermione couldn’t help but peak over her shoulder to stare at his arse as he walked down the plane to the bathrooms.

In the dark reflection of her laptop screen, Hermione quickly took in the bags under her eyes and the lack of makeup on her dark skin. Her skin was clear for once, and she found some lipstick in her purse along with an old eyeliner pencil. Her hair was nearly unmanageable on a good day, but Hermione found a hairband and quickly put it on as the seatbelt sign came on again.

“Everyone please return to your seat, we are experiencing some turbulence as we move through a storm system.”

“Oof, I’m so sorry.”

Hermione stared at the man, all six foot something of him that fell into her lap as the plane suddenly shook. Hermione felt her face grow warm, as he quickly scrambled to his feet and got into his own seat.

“I’m Hermione, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Ron Weasley, I’m sorry I fell on top of you.”

~Two Hours Later~

Hermione smiled to herself as she picked up her second suitcase from baggage claim, she had three missed calls from Harry, but it was worth it as she got to flirt a little bit more with Ron. He was coming home as his little sister and childhood best friend were getting married and he was to be part of the wedding party. He had also been abroad for university, but the details had been hard to get out of him. Ron had been so much more interested in Hermione’s work, only giving a few small details to his own life and family.

On several different parts of their journey they had accidentally held hands, and on the last bit of turbulence Hermione hadn’t let go until they had finally landed. Ron, being the gentleman that he was, had even helped her get her suitcase down from the overhead bin and walked her to baggage claim.

“I just got my bags Harry,” Hermione hissed into her phone as she walked out to the pickup area. “Oh I see you!”

Hermione felt herself smile as she ran over to the small dark car and her best friend from uni. She had met Harry at Freshman orientation, they had several classes together and just clicked. They had survived parties, midterms, football tryouts (for Harry), trivia team tryouts (for Hermione), horrible first dates, and even embarrassing family visits (the most memorable one being Harry’s uncles caught together in one of the bathrooms). They had been there for each other through all of the good and the bad, and Hermione had been proud of Harry when they graduated, even as he went on to work in sports marketing and Hermione went on to law school.

Six years later, they were still best friends, they still talked everyday even if it was just through text messages and emails, and Hermione was to be in the wedding party when he got married to Ginny. Hermione was excited to say the least, and coming back to London now couldn’t have been better timing.

“Hey there Granger,” said Harry as he held his arms out to her, Hermione rolled her eyes and hugged him tightly. She couldn’t believe that she was home, that she was finally home with the people that she loved. “Missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” whispered Hermione, wiping at her eyes as Harry let go of her and picked up her suitcases.

“You’re going to love Ginny, and her brother Ron, they’re great,” said Harry as Hermione watched him carefully put her things in the boot of his car. “They’re already in the car.”

Hermione nodded, faintly aware that she was going to need to perform for the next few hours until she could finally go to sleep. She had to stay awake until at least eight, so she could adjust back into the time zone. But part of her had hoped that she could fall asleep in the back of the car, like the time Harry had taken her home to Godric’s Hallow for Easter holidays their second year of uni.

“Oh,” said Ron from the plane, as Hermione climbed into the back seat beside him. He looked a bit cramped in the tiny car, his long legs almost pressed to his chest. “It’s you again.”

Hermione felt herself blush, taking in the whole situation. Harry’s childhood best friend was Ron, and his little sister Ginny was Harry’s fiancée, and Hermione was Harry’s best friend from uni.

It felt almost like a set up.

“You two have met?” asked Ginny as she pulled out into traffic, Hermione just barely clipping herself into her seat belt.

“He fell on my lap on the plane ride here,” said Hermione, taking in the little she could see of Ginny, despite knowing what she looked like from the photos Harry had sent her. Hermione knew that they met because Ginny was one the players on one of the teams Harry worked for. They’re courtship had been renewed, they had dated for a very brief period in secondary, before breaking up when Harry moved to London for uni.

“Well it seemed to work as you asked me for my number,” said Ron, and Hermione felt herself smile as Harry turned around in his seat to stare at Hermione. She wasn’t known for being bold when it came to asking others out, the few relationships and dates that she had in uni had all been initiated by the person asking her out. She just never thought that far in the future, she wasn’t much of a romantic, at least not like Harry was.

“Wait,” said Ginny, looking at them in the rearview mirror, “you sat next to each other on the plane and you didn’t tell me Ron? We sat here and you didn’t even mention it?”

“I didn’t know that she was Granger,” said Ron, and Hermione felt him grab her hand as Ginny slammed on the breaks the light in front of them turned yellow. “Maybe if someone told me that her name was Hermione it would be different.”

Ginny let out a loud sigh and Hermione smiled to herself. Strangely enough, this felt like the time Harry had tried to set Hermione up with his roommate Neville. It hadn’t worked out, though Hermione and Neville were still great friends even now, he was even going to be part of the wedding party.

“Alright sure, my bad,” said Harry, but Hermione could hear the familiar cocky tone in his voice he got when he was too happy about something working out the way wanted it to. “Sorry Ron.”

“Thanks,” said Ron, squeezing Hermione’s hand softly and meeting her eyes in the backseat.

For some reason, Hermione couldn’t make herself feel upset at all. In fact, her return to London seemed like the absolute best thing in the world.

She didn’t even feel tired anymore.

~Two Years Later~

Hermione smiled in the mirror over her bathroom sink.

She looked the same as she had two years ago, at least for the most part. Her long curly dark hair was still as unmanageable as always, her dark brown eyes still had bags under them, her skin was surprisingly clear for once, and she wasn’t wearing much makeup. She was wearing her trusted flip-flops and a sundress, her engagement ring and wedding band glittered on her left hand, she was going to a baby shower today.

She was seven months along, her daughter was due in a little less than eight weeks, and she was excited to take this next step. Everything had been easy in the last two years, she and Ron had just clicked.

There was no awkward phase after he had fallen into her lap on the plane ride that took them home. Dating had come easy, especially as they both were staying with Harry and Ginny until they got on their feet again. Moving in together had just happened, both of them deciding that they mind as well because they were dating and getting two flats just seemed stupid when they only wanted to spend time together.

Ron had proposed six months after they had met, and even though Hermione knew it was insane, she said yes.

It was so strange and out of character for her, she wasn’t one who didn’t think things through. But Ron made it easy, he was funny and smart and charming, he looked at her as if she was both the sun and the moon, he never tried to sell himself to Hermione, he was just himself and that was enough. He was caring and kind and made her smile on bad days and made her giggle until she was peeing herself on good days, he brought her lunch almost every day and made them dinner most nights. And he never got upset when she had to stay late in the office for work.

He loved her and that was enough, it would always be enough.

He got along with her parents, and Hermione felt like a Weasley after meeting the whole family at Harry and Ginny’s rehearsal dinner. She didn’t have any siblings, Harry being the closest thing to a sibling to her, but now she had five older brothers and one little sister in Ron’s siblings, not including their spouses.

Getting married to Ron had been easy, they got married in her family’s church and had the reception at Ron’s parent’s house. It had been everything she could’ve ever wanted, and in just eight weeks she would have her and Ron’s first baby.

“’Mione,” said Ron, appearing in the bathroom doorway, his red hair longer than she had ever seen it, but his warm smile the same as the day they had met. “We have to go before we miss the whole thing.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and rubbed her stomach as their daughter kicked her. They had decided on the name Roslyn Eleanora, or Rose for short after Hermione’s grandmother on her mother’s side. They were going to name their baby Hugo Charles after Ron’s favorite brother if they were having a boy, but Hermione reminded Ron that this wouldn’t be their last baby.

“We’ve been late to more important things than a baby shower Ron.”

“And Harry and Ginny still hold their wedding and James’ christening over our heads, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled and reached for Ron’s hand, placing it on her stomach before leaning forward and kissing him softly. She had never been happier to have a stranger fall into lap.

Though, of course, she never imagined that she would’ve married him fifteen months later.

#hermione granger #ron weasley #harry potter #ginny weasley #my fics #training prompt tuesday #this was so much fun #I wrote this instead of sleeping last night

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modern-inheritance · 3 years

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Modern Inheritance: Dress Code (Post-War ficlet)

(A/N: Some Post-War MIC!Eragon/Arya for you all.

I’ve extended the Rider War timeline to be closer to 5-ish years. Eragon has more time to mature, Arya has more time to heal. They start a relationship around a year before the war ends, and while I have a basic idea of how it comes about I’m not ready to put it into writing for you all yet. There’s about a year or so of Arya and Fírnen remaining behind in Alagaësia to help with reconstruction and reintegration of the elves into the world without starting an incident while Islanzadí heals, and then they join Eragon and Saphira at the Rider School. At this point, even a year on, the school is still in some phases of construction and only has maybe a dozen students + their dragons, possibly less. Everyone is still trying to settle in to the new reality, and Eragon is still getting used to the admin role he now has to take.

I’ll probably post more about MIC!Eragon and Arya’s relationship, especially as it is post-war. In the meantime, take this. It’s a little spicy, so fair warning. Cheers mates!)

~~~

Eragon scrubbed his hands through his hair, frustration edging his voice. “Remind me why I agreed to host this?”

Invitations to the Rider School’s gala were strewn across his desk, addresses of dignitaries from the chiefdoms surrounding Mount Arngor paperclipped to each. He held in his hand three different menus in various stages of translation and tweaking, trying his best to work through the grammar of the local dialect and please the varied dietary restrictions of all in attendance. An itinerary draft sat incomplete under a handful of pens, half abandoned until the Rider’s leader could muster up the focus to finish it.

For all the good will these events garnered, they always brought in more paperwork than he thought they were worth.

“Because people tend to get nervous when dragons and Riders begin massing in one place and it looks like no one knows what’s going on.” Eragon leaned back in his chair and tilted his head to watch Arya across the room. His mate was cross legged on the floor, a portion of Fírnen’s saddle in her lap while the rest spilled out like a comically large sea turtle. A half-threaded leather needle dangled from her lips as she closely examined a patch of torn stitching to judge the length she needed. “And it’s one of the fastest ways to show that yes, the Riders have leaders in you and Saphira, and that you both aren’t as scary as they might think.”

From outside the exterior porthole a chuffing snort signaled Saphira’s amusement. That anyone would dare to put her majestic yet terrifying visage into the same league of frightening as Eragon’s squishy, scaleless frame was laughable.

Down below the cliffside, the sounds of Fírnen’s playful growls as he entertained a handful of yearlings and hatchlings rumbled up the mountain. The fledgling Riders and their dragons were on a day of leave after a month of hard work and lessons, leaving Eragon, Saphira, Arya, and Fírnen time to catch up on the tasks that went by the wayside during instruction.

Eragon felt Saphira yawn wide, barbed tongue curling at its tip. His jaw twinged slightly as her teeth clicked together. Don’t forget your meeting this afternoon. Saphira stretched out one massive paw and began fastidiously cleaning the scales around her claws, irritated by the stone dust from construction that still remained in the nooks and crannies of the mountain’s halls. I will fly you down, but after that I must take the hatchlings to hunt.

Thank you. I won’t forget. Eragon assured as he set the menus down and picked up the draft of the event itinerary, clicking his pen in distracted boredom. As he worked, Arya finished her repairs and began the process of conditioning the rejoined pieces, working neatsfoot oil into the saddle with a soft rag.

Saphira’s deep breathing outside signaled her shift to a light doze in the afternoon sun. The sound was soothing, lulling her Rider into a state of half focused haze.

Once again drifting away from his work, Eragon’s eyes snagged on the invitation’s request of a black tie dress code. It sent his mind to other places, and, the corners of his lips curling into a mischievous smile, he let his chair turn again.

“You know…” Arya looked up to see her mate tapping his pen against his lips. “There is one thing I don’t mind about these fancy events though.” Mirth danced in his eyes, along with something a little more, as he lifted his gaze from the papers in his hand.

The elf set the saddle aside, wiping her hands on the rag. This should be interesting. He only acted this innocent for two reasons, one distinctly more alluring than the other. “Oh really?” She stood and stretched, fingers linked above her head as she lifted onto her toes. “And what would that be?”

“You.” Eragon broke into a blush tinged smile and set the itinerary aside, turning his chair fully to face her. “I will never get tired of seeing you all dressed up.”

Arya let out a soft laugh and approached him. His gaze boldly roamed over her form, still marveling years on that she was his and he was hers. “Really! I love you no matter what you wear. But there’s something about the way you can pull off a black dress….” Eragon practically purred in approval as the elf settled into his lap, her knees on either side of his hips. The tang of leather conditioner wrapped around Arya’s earthy scent, reminding him of their time in the field and nights around watch fires, working on their gear and simply enjoying each other's company. It was just so simply her, so entwined in his mind with who she was, that it made his heart flutter. “What will you wear this time?”

Arya cocked her head coyly, braid brushing against her back as she shifted her weight to his knees with a thoughtful hum. “I don’t know. You pick.” A sly grin touched her lips. “Within reason, of course.”

Eragon leaned back, mind awhirl with possibilities. Almost subconsciously his hands had found Arya’s sides to steady her on her perch. As he mulled over the choice she had given him, his thumbs rubbed small circles against her ribs, eliciting a pleased sigh that danced in his ears. She leaned into his touch, content.

“Hmm...I think…” An image solidified in Eragon’s imagination, bringing back that hooded eye grin as he went a step further and imagined it covering less of his mate’s body and more of his bedroom floor. “Black dress. Mid length. Something backless.”

Arya huffed a quiet laugh, her smirk suddenly tinged with a tiny twist that he couldn’t quite place. Awkwardness? “Love...we’re trying to make friends here, not send them running for the other side of the continent.”

It took a long, long moment for Eragon to realize her meaning. With a slight pang of guilt his grin drooped, and in quiet apology he slipped his hands under the soft material of his mate’s shirt. Calloused fingers slid up her back, ghosting over the multitude of scars that still decorated her skin, as he pulled her down to him until their foreheads touched.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. He could feel the uptick in her heart rate through her skin, the warmth of her breath against his cheek as he massaged the silky rifts below her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry. You’d think after all this time I’d remember. They’re so much a part of you that I–”

Arya silenced him, brushing her lips against his. The contact flushed warmth down from his cheeks to his throat and over his chest. “I like that you forget.” Her smile feathered against his skin as she shifted her body closer to his and pulled away from the light kiss. “I think it’s one of the sweetest things you do.”

Relieved, Eragon smiled back. Taking one of his mate’s hands from where she had braced against his shoulder, he pressed lips to her palm in one last apology before returning his grip to her sides. The feeling of warm, bare skin beneath his fingertips and the new position of her hips had him quickly distracted again, and he soon found himself itching to continue their banter. “Well...what about me, then?”

“What about you?”

“What should I wear for the gala?”

Arya hummed quietly, teasing her fingers down his chest. “It’s black tie, isn’t it?” Eragon nodded in confirmation, doing his best to keep from moving beyond the gentle dance of his fingers against the elf’s sides. She was always more composed than he during these little games, to the point that the Rider’s leader found himself pushing his limits to better match her whenever they arose. “Well then. I say you should wear just your slacks and a tie.” She gently tapped the end of his nose before dragging her hands across the tightening muscles of his abdomen, nails lightly scraping through the material of his shirt. Her voice took on a low purr, rippling with a possessive edge from deep within her chest and sending tingles of anticipation across Eragon’s skin. “It doesn't say anything about wearing something along with it, does it not?”

Eragon raised his eyebrow, control cracking. His hands settled on her hips as she draped her wrists over his shoulders, pulling her closer. He could feel the heat between their bodies growing, pooling over their clothed skin. “Well, if it’s the dress code you’re insisting on, who am I to break the rules?” His mate grinned that little devilish smirk that set his heart pounding, fire dancing in her eyes as she leaned in closer. Eragon let his eyes drift closed, lifting away from the back of the chair to meet her–

And frowned in confusion when he felt her cheek brush his. The light touch was followed by a breathy whisper in his ear.

“You’re going to be late for your meeting with Blödhgarm and Telvi if you don’t hurry.”

Eragon opened his eyes to find Arya pulling away from reaching over his shoulder, the small clock he kept on his desk in her hand.

It read only eight minutes to two in the afternoon. He was supposed to be meeting the elves to go over plans for a new family housing addition at two o’clock sharp.

“Oh shit!”

Eragon bolted to his feet, unceremoniously dumping Arya off her perch on his lap. The elf couldn’t help but laugh as he dashed around the room, searching frantically for the plans Gerard had drawn up for him and the set of drafting tools necessary to make any adjustments. Outside Saphira similarly surged to her feet and shook herself. Her wings rustled like parchment as she unfurled them and stretched, ready to leap from the mountain shelf to the courtyard below.

I can see them nearing the gate. Saphira’s warning echoed in Eragon’s mind. You need to hurry, Little One.

I’m trying! I can’t find the damn plans! Eragon jerked his gaze from ripping apart a cluttered drawer of stationary when his mate gave a short, sharp whistle. Arya stood by the porthole with his messenger bag in hand, and wordlessly slipped the protected tube that held Gerard’s plans and the box of tools in when the man looked up. He let out a wordless cry of relief and hurried over, ducking his head and lifting his arm slightly to allow Arya to loop the strap down over his shoulder and settle the bag onto his hip.

“Where would I be without you?” Eragon asked, half sincere and half rhetorical as the elven Rider adjusted his shirt. He leaned in, hopeful and thrilled as always.

Still grinning, Arya allowed him to give her a quick kiss. Her hand lingered at his cheek, checking him over out of habit before swiping a few stray locks of his curling bangs away from his face. “In Carvahall, living a quiet life without dragons, elves, dwarves and Urgals.” Pleased that he was presentable, the elf gave him a kiss of her own before turning him to the waiting Saphira and giving him a push. “Now go! Fírnen and I are teaching Silas and Rakka some flying, so we’ll see you both at dinner.”

Eragon gave one last wave and tightened the saddle straps around his legs. With that, Saphira took two great strides and launched herself from the cliff.

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riversofmars · 3 years

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Love Is Begun By Time

So this is sort of my contribution to Pride Month... two wlw couples breaking out of the Tower of London to steal a jewel from Queen Elizabeth I. River/13 and Liv/Helen!

Featuring:

endless River/13 banter and healthy relationship

Liv being a gay mess

River flirting with EVERYONE

Helen being cute, clueless and working through the prejudice of the time she grew up in

aliens in Elizabethan London

BAMF River Song

Shakespeare quotes

Eight being a clueless himbo

Anyway! Happy Pride!

Love Is Begun By Time

“Any bright ideas?“ Helen Sinclair shifted her weight, trying to get comfortable but no matter how she tried, she didn’t seem to be able to. The heavy iron chains that kept her fixed to the wall left her with little wiggle room.

“Nothing springs to mind…“ Liv Chenka looked around the dirty dungeon cell. The stone wall behind her was cold and hard against her back, the ground was wet and grimy; the straw did little in the way of cushioning. The metal of the chains had started digging into her wrists and were rubbing her skin red and raw. She’d just about had it with being locked up. “This is usually when the Doctor turns up to save the day…“ She groaned, annoyed at the situation they found themselves in. Liv had always been partial to trips to her ancestral home-world but since getting locked up in the Tower of London pending execution, she had quickly fallen out of love with Elizabethan England.

They had lost track of how long they had been imprisoned for as there was very little natural light. All Liv knew for sure was that she was getting hungry. As she considered the hopelessness of their situation, she glanced to Helen in the twilight. She was huffing and puffing, trying to get comfortable and Liv smiled a little, despite it all. She was glad that she wasn’t alone. If she was to choose someone to be locked up with, it would be Helen Sinclair. Liv’s thoughts on how lovely her best friend looked in period dress were interrupted when she heard distant voices.

“Can you hear that?“ The med-tech looked up and listened out. The walls of the dungeon were thick but she was sure someone was heading their way.

“Voices?“ Helen listened up as well. “Maybe someone is coming to get us, maybe it’s the Doctor! Hello?!“ She called out but there was no response. There were, however, voices in the corridor and they were getting close enough to make out.

“You just had to do that, didn’t you, you just couldn’t keep your hands to yourself!“ The first voice was female, distinctly Northern and obviously deeply annoyed.

“Well, how is one to keep one’s hands at one’s sides when one is pressed to one’s wife in a broom closet.“ The other voice - also female and oddly familiar - seemed to be taking the whole thing far less seriously.

“That voice…“ Helen had noticed it too and they exchanged confused glances. It was incredibly familiar but neither of them could quite place it, not yet anyway.

“We were hiding!“ The Northern woman snapped, still getting closer, and the response came promptly:

“You needn’t have squeaked like that!“

“You could have given me some heads up before jumping right in.“

“What can I say, sometimes foreplay seems like wasted effort.“ The exchange was quick, witty and effortless. Whoever they were, they knew each other very well and knew how to press each other’s buttons.

Liv raised her eyebrows at the statement, trying not to chuckle. She spotted the expression on Helen’s face, noticing a faint blush at the impropriety the words insinuated, and in Elizabethan times no less!

“We’ve been married for thousands of years, you still need warning?“ The familiar voice teased.

“Well, this body is different…“ The heavy wooden door opened and a blonde woman came into view. Her hair fell in a short bob, her clothes were a colourful ensemble that did not match the local trends of fashion and her bright eyes were firmly fixed on the woman beside her who smirked:

“Yes, I have noticed.“

Liv and Helen gasped in surprise as they recognised none other than Professor River Song, time travelling archeologist and wife to their best friend! She was lead into the cell alongside the blonde and appeared to be teasing her with great enthusiasm.

“Shut up, the two of you!“ The guard that was accompanying them snapped. He had clearly heard enough of their bickering along the way. “Get in there.“ He gave them both a shove.

“Alright, alright, no need to be like that.“ The blonde rolled her eyes.

“Now, really that’s no way to treat a lady.“ River feigned outrage. She straightened out the era appropriate dress she was wearing - much like Liv and Helen themselves. She looks fantastic in a corset. The unbidden thought struck Liv like a punch in the gut. She forced her eyes away and focused on the other woman instead. Her long coat, rainbow t-shirt and odd three-quarter length trousers were certainly not of the time; the only logical deduction was that she was a time traveller, too. Perhaps they had just found their way out of their awkward situation.

“You will hang in the morning for attempting to steal the Queen’s jewel.“ The guard snapped, glaring at the two women who seemed remarkably unfazed at the prospect of their impending execution.

“Not to mention the indecent behaviour, right?“ River called after him but he didn’t respond, he just threw the door shut.

“River?“ Helen spoke up first and the two new arrivals looked around, surprised. They had been too caught up in their conversation to notice the two women chained to the wall.

“Liv? Helen?“ It was the blonde that spoke first and they looked at her in surprise. How does she know our names? Liv wondered. Had they, perhaps, come to save them? Or maybe she was someone from their future? Maybe they just hadn’t met yet. She didn’t have an opportunity to continue the thought process as River demanded their attention:

“Hello girls!“ A wide grin spread across the professor’s face. “Fancy seeing you here!“ She turned to the woman at her side: “Don’t tell me you’ve done this before.“

“I don’t remember it.“ The other woman shook her head slowly. “But of course, must be because of the time lines crossing.“ She exclaimed, as if the penny dropped. “Come here you two!“ She skipped over and threw herself at them for tight hugs that they couldn’t evade in their tied up state.

“Do we… know you?“ Liv frowned pulling away as much as she could manage. It wasn’t that she disliked a hug from a pretty girl, she just usually preferred introductions first.

“Oh right, the body, uh…“ The blonde straightened herself up, confused for a moment, she looked to River for help who started laughing.

“This is the Doctor.“ River gestured to the blonde who gave a sheepish grin.

“No…“ Helen’s eyes widened in shock.

“Really?“ Liv was just as dumbfounded.

“What can I say, regeneration is a lottery.“ The Doctor grinned and took a little twirl that was so very much like the Doctor they knew.

“And you hit the jackpot this time around.“ River smirked as she regarded her wife’s backside while the Doctor faced her friends again.

“I’ll say…“ Liv found herself saying before she could think better of it.

“So you two are still…“ Helen looked to River, seemingly confused.

“Thirteenth honeymoon, if you will.“ River grinned.

“Right…“ The language scholar managed a smile that wasn’t quite comfortable and it made Liv’s heart sink. Of course. Helen, despite all the wonderful adventures they had been on and all the extraordinary things they had seen, was still a woman of her time, Liv realised. Born 1933. It wasn’t usually noticeable. She took scientific advancement and alien life in her stride but every now and then, a little bit of her upbringing, the time she was raised in, shone through.

Liv rarely thought about their different backgrounds, in most things they were so very much alike; but still occasionally, the awareness of it painfully push itself to the forefront of Liv’s mind. Usually when she considered how the light reflected in Helen’s bright, intelligent eyes or how much she missed her when she wasn’t right there by her side. The awareness remained like a wall, in insurmountable obstacle, that Liv never dared approach. It was what always kept her hand firmly by her side, rather than slipping into the one well within reach.

“Thirteenth?“ Liv forced herself out of her painful thoughts and instead marvelled at how different that Doctor was to the one they were travelling with. She had seen them change before and learned how one person could wear different faces, but that was quite a change indeed.

“Long time into my future - your future - however you want to look at it.“ The Doctor seemed to appreciate that it was a lot to take in.

“I’m going to need some time to process this…“ Helen laughed lightly, seemingly over the initial shock.

“Maybe you could get us out of these chains in the meantime?“ Liv suggested as her right hand was falling asleep and her wrists stung.

“Well, Ms. Chenka, in my experience there is a lot of fun to be had with restraints.“ River gave her a wink and Liv rolled her eyes. Did River Song have any other modi operandi apart from witty seductress and deadly assassin?

“Very funny.“ The med-tech huffed, hoping the little bit of pink that snuck onto her cheeks didn’t show in the dark of the cell. She wasn’t even necessarily attracted to River, but there probably wasn’t a person alive in this universe - no matter their race, gender or sexual orientation - that was immune to River Song’s charm. She hoped Helen hadn’t noticed.

“Yes chains, right, then we find a way out of here. Not really in the mood for a hanging.“ The Doctor ignored the little exchanged, clearly not phased by her wife’s flirting, and pulled her sonic screwdriver from her coat.

“Oh you know, some executions can be quite entertaining or even enjoyable affairs, there is this little planet just off the Orion belt where…“ River started but for once, the Doctor dared to interrupt her.

“I don’t think they care right now, River.“ She crouched down and sonic-ed the restraints until they fell away. “There you go.“ She smiled satisfied as Liv and Helen shook off the rest of the chains.

“Much better, thanks.“ Helen smiled, rubbing her aching joints.

“So what did you two do to get banged up in here? Were you having a bit too much fun in the broom closet as well?“ River smirked as they clambered to their feet and brushed off the dirt.

“Sorry?“ Helen looked over to her, visibly confused.

“River.“ The Doctor gave her wife’s arm a little slap.

“What?“ River looked back to the Doctor, confused, apparently wondering what she had done wrong. She then looked back to Liv and Helen, sizing them up. Liv averted her eyes while Helen just looked utterly confused. “You don’t mean to tell me, after all this time, you still haven’t…“

“I think that’s quite enough of that, River, dear.“ The Doctor grabbed River’s hand and pulled her along to the door. “Let’s see if we can’t get us all out of here before past me turns up and this gets really complicated, hm?“

“Now there is a fun idea, you had such luscious hair back then too…“ River reminisced, brushing her hand through her blonde bob while the Doctor attempted to sonic the door.

“Wood, damn it.“ The Doctor groaned in annoyance.

“You would have thought after all this time, it would do wood.“ River sighed theatrically.

“Wise arse…“ The Doctor huffed as she crouched down to examine the lock more closely.

“So what were you up to, my favourite girls?“ River turned back to the other two women who were watching their interactions with fascination. They knew River was the Doctor’s wife, she had told them as much, but she had also told them that their Doctor couldn’t know about it yet. Therefore, they had never actually seen them interact as lovers might. Looking at River with that version of the Doctor, they could picture it. The Doctor really hadn’t changed all that much.

“We were searching for an artefact…“ Helen started and looked to Liv to help her out.

“Alien technology that has been given to Queen Elizabeth as a gift and it’s been influencing her, she’s been commissioning these towers that the Doctor reckons the aliens will use to create a… oh God knows what, the Doctor will have to explain.“ Liv shrugged. They had been detained rather early on in their attempt to sneak into the palace, so they had very little to go on.

“Yes, that’s what we’ve been looking for, too.“ The Doctor exclaimed excitedly.

“We were having a lovely honeymoon, actually.“ River interjected. “The theatre, you know. Shakespeare? Live? You just had to check this out.“

“Well, I didn’t remember that it was all in hand already, did I.“ The Doctor retorted.

“So do you know where the artefact is?“ Liv asked, hoping there would be an easy solution to the whole mess.

“We would have had it by now if someone could have held their nerve.“ River pursed her lips.

“You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.“ The Doctor glared at her wife.

“Can you honestly blame me?“ River smirked giving a little shrug.

“I can’t… blame you, I mean.“ Liv found herself saying, looking the Doctor up and down.

“Thank you very much.“ River gave the med-tech a winning smile and proceeded to stick her tongue out at her wife who just rolled her eyes.

“Liv?“ Helen raised her eyebrows questioningly at her friend who was still in a world of her own when the Doctor bent over again and continued to examine the lock.

“Hm? What?“ Liv blinked, looking back to Helen who seemed rather incredulous.

“That’s the Doctor!“ She pointed out, her voice somewhere between amusement and concern.

“Yeah but… not really… I mean…“ Liv began to stutter. “Past him, good God no, but… I mean…“

“Right…“ Helen’s eyes widened in surprise and Liv silently scolded herself.

That went very badly for so many reasons, Liv realised. She didn’t mean to look like she was checking out their best friend, just because they had changed bodies. She didn’t mean to make Helen uncomfortable by flaunting interest in a pretty girl. And most importantly, she didn’t want Helen thinking she was interested in the Doctor or anyone else for that matter. Anyone else except for Helen herself, of course; but that she couldn’t say.

River, apparently, could tell that Liv was getting very uncomfortable, so she decided to move things along.

“Anyway, where were we.. trying to break out? Step aside dear.“ She gently pushed her wife aside so she could have a look at the lock herself. She pulled something that looked an awful lot like a swiss army knife from somewhere within her dress.

“You okay, Helen?“ The Doctor noticed that Helen had gone rather quiet and contemplative.

“Yeah fine, I…“ The language scholar managed a smile.

“There we are.“ River announced triumphantly and gave the door a gentle nudge, swinging it open.

“You really are good, aren’t you.“ Liv chuckled, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I’m not sure good is the right word.“ Helen laughed a little as well.

“Better not be.“ River smirked and hid the knife somewhere around the edges of her cleavage. “Come along, girls.“ She stuck her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear. The corridor was indeed empty and confidently, River and the Doctor lead the way. Liv and Helen followed slightly more cautiously.

“So… the Doctor…“ Helen said after walking in silence for a few minutes.

“What?“ Liv looked around to her, confused.

“You said you couldn’t blame River…“ Helen observed, mulling over what she had said.

“Helen…“ Liv felt her throat close up. Of course she had got the wrong end of the stick, but how to explain without making the situation worse?

“No, I mean, I uh…“ Helen seemingly was struggling to find the right words as well, so Liv hastily tried to justify herself:

“I didn’t mean I wanted to… I mean, she’s the Doctor. Plus, she’s with the Professor, so…“ She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. She hadn’t meant it like that at all.

“But if she wasn’t, you’d…“ Helen looked ahead to where the Doctor and River were standing to either side of a door and glancing into the next corridor; a perfect team, so in tune with each other.

“Why are we talking about this?“ Liv asked gently. She so badly wanted to reach for her arm or her shoulder, create some physical contact, but she didn’t.

“No, I mean… I just didn’t realise you had these feelings…“ Helen huffed, her tone incredibly difficult to pick apart.

“I don’t! Not for the Doctor.“ Liv grabbed Helen’s arm and stopped her. She couldn’t leave her in that belief.

“But you said…“ Helen didn’t look at her, she adverted her eyes, looking up ahead to make sure they didn’t lose track of River and the Doctor.

“She’s pretty, that’s all. That was all I was saying, nothing else. I don’t want to and never would and… this is the Doctor we’re talking about!“ Liv insisted firmly, she would have shouted for emphasis if they weren’t currently on the run, breaking out of prison. Her tone must have been a lot sharper than she realised, as Helen stared at her shocked. Quickly, Liv let go of her arm. “Besides, it’s not just about that, is it.“ She mumbled, somewhat apologetical about her outburst. “To be… interested… in someone like that, there has to be an awful lot there. Like trust. Mutual interests. Shared values. Time… spending time with that person, getting to know them, making memories together and experiences and…“ She broke off. “I just mean, a pretty face isn’t everything.“ She shrugged and started walking again, partly because she reasoned that they should keep up with the others, partly because she wanted to put an end to the conversation.

“But you’d… like a pretty pace? More than, say, someone like our Doctor…?“ Helen asked after a few moments of silence between them.

“You mean a man?“ Liv retorted without looking at her. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

“Uhh… yeah… I guess that’s what I mean…“ Helen mumbled, not looking to her either.

“I really don’t care, Helen.“ Liv sighed, defeated. She actually laughed a little at how absurd the conversation was from her point of view. Humanity had moved past that a long long time ago and she couldn't believe that her beautiful, clever friend hadn’t come to the same realisation yet. “When you like someone it’s not for their gender, you like the person, wouldn’t you say?“ Liv asked, looking over to her at last.

“I’d never… really thought about it, I guess…“ Helen replied, her voice soft.

“That’s just your time, the way you were raised, it’s… you can’t help it…“ Liv shook her head, she couldn’t even blame her. She was born in a different world and it would take time to unlearn what society had drummed into her for most of her life. Far flung adventures in impossible worlds just weren’t enough. It would take time, like all things. Love is begun by time… Liv thought, Shakespeare making an unbidden appearance in her troubled mind. Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it. She wondered if that spark would ever be allowed to turn to a blaze. A steady, hungry fire had been burning inside her for so long already; and perhaps Helen would douse it in cold water at last.

“Seems so silly now, looking back…“ Helen spoke to herself more than anything else but took Liv by surprise nonetheless. “After everything I’ve seen, the places we’ve been too, the futures we’ve experienced…“ She shook her head to herself. “I guess I still haven’t quite caught up with everything yet…“

“It does seem silly…“ Liv didn’t know what else to say but she felt a sense of relief at Helen’s thought process on the matter. Her friend was intelligent, inquisitive and considerate. She reflected on things and didn’t just take them for granted. She questioned and prodded, more than able to make up her own mind. Maybe she just had never had reason to reevaluate her feelings on the matter and Liv felt a sting for knowing she herself hadn’t been reason enough to do just that. But then, perhaps, she had never dared to give her a proper reason to, either.

“Shush, you two, or we will be back in the tower in a minute…“ River pressed her finger’s to Liv’s lips as they came to an abrupt halt and she nearly bumped into her.

“Guards?“ Helen whispered as Liv was too dumbfounded to utter anything with River Song’s slender finger pressed to her lips.

“I’m going to create a distraction, you guys go ahead and I’ll meet you by the exit.“ The Doctor spoke quietly. She glanced around the corner. There were four guards heading their way. “Where did I say I went? Where was I when you were detained?“ She turned back to her former companions.

“You were taken to the Queen, apparently she had been looking for you everywhere.“ Liv answered slowly, recalling the series of events that had brought them there.

“Ahh, yes… Lizzie…“ The Doctor couldn’t help a little smirk.

“Virgin Queen no longer, naughty naughty, good job I’m not the jealous type.“ River wagged her finger at her wife who gave an innocent shrug and sheepish grin. “She’s not the jealous type, either, just for the record.“ River gave Helen a wink who had no idea what to do with that. River Song’s constant flirting and innuendo was a lot to handle. She flushed a little, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by Liv who felt a wave of jealousy knocking her slightly. She had no right to be jealous, did she? River just had that effect on people.

“So what would the Queen want with the Doctor?“ Liv tired to focus her mind on something else.

“I may have married her… previous me… future me, from your point of view…“ The Doctor waved it off as unimportant.

“Seriously?“ Helen exclaimed and all of them shushed her.

“Anyway, that will keep the Queen preoccupied, won’t it. Plenty of time for us to steal into the palace and get the artefact.“ The Doctor whispered with some urgency. The guards would be getting close. “Let’s get out of here, my TARDIS is parked just at either side of the Houses of Parliament.“ There were nods all round. “So about that distraction…“ She turned back, reached for her sonic and realised that River had suddenly disappeared. Then there were muffled cries, groans, sounds of something knocking into the wall, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor.

“Let’s get going, dear, we haven’t got all day.“ River called to them, signalling that the coast was clear.

“Why do our honeymoons always end like this?“ The Doctor huffed as they stepped out onto the corridor where River had struck down four fully grown men without so much as ruffling a hair on her impressive head of curls.

“Because you really like it when I strut my stuff, Sweetie.“ River winked at her wife who did seem a little tighter wound than a moment before. “You know I can have you on your back even quicker than that.“

“Promises, promises.“ The Doctor mumbled but the pink on her cheeks betrayed her feelings on the matter.

“Does the flirting ever stop?“ Liv felt a little hot under the collar as well. There certainly was something incredibly attractive about a woman that could handle herself like that.

“Not as long as it makes her blush like that.“ River smirked proud of the effect she had on her wife.

“Is this what you two are usually like?“ Helen asked. She seemed intrigued to know how River would have been with their Doctor, given half a chance.

“Your Doctor didn’t know who I was yet and couldn’t know, so you can’t really compare it. Doesn’t mean I love him any less.“ River answered, seemingly knowing full well where she was going with it.

“Maybe a little bit less?“ The Doctor interjected and River shook her head, laughing:

“I love all my spouses equally.“ She slipped her hand into the Doctor’s before she could start sulking. “Now come along, we haven’t got all day!“

“Wow…“ Was all Helen and Liv could manage as they stepped into the Doctor’s TARDIS.

“You redecorated.“ Helen observed and the Doctor grinned:

“You like it?“ She asked as she marched up to the console and set coordinates. “Just a quick hop…“ She pushed down a lever. “And we’re in the gardens of Richmond Palace.“

“You seem to have gotten better at flying her.“ Liv commented as they stepped outside and were exactly where she had intended for them to go.

“Don’t let appearances fool you, Ms. Chenka.“ River hummed in amusement.

“Right, where are we going?“ Helen asked before the Doctor could launch into a defence of her flying.

“I’m keeping the Queen busy so we just need to evade the guards and find the artefact, destroy it, and be on our way, easy, no?“ The Doctor put her hands on her hips, looking around for confirmation.

“If we knew where the artefact was and what it looked like.“ Liv sighed. They had gotten as far as that last time, with their Doctor.

“Way ahead of you.“ River smiled and pulled a scanner from somewhere in her dress. What else does she keep in there, Liv wondered. “Looks like it’s in the private vault… at least that’t not the private chambers.“ River mused, holding out the scanner for everyone to see. There was a red dot pulsating not too far away from them.

“Now, that would be awkward…“ The Doctor admitted.

“You guys better stay here.“ River turned to Liv and Helen

“What? You’re leaving us behind?“ Helen protested, incredulous.

“I’d leave her behind too but she gets offended.“ River nodded towards her wife.

“River!“ The Doctor huffed.

“Oh, alright then, all come along, just don’t moan if we end up back in the tower again cause you got us caught.“ River sighed, giving in.

River was quick to find a window on the ground floor that was easily opened with the help of her sonic trowel - another item she just happened to have on her person - and they climbed inside. The corridor was empty and there were no alarm systems to consider in Elizabethan times.

“This way…“ River indicated, following her scanner.

They snuck through corridors and glamorous rooms, each sitting room more luscious than the next, until finally, they came to a room full of display cases.

“There it is.“ The Doctor whispered and pointed to the far end of the room. A large jewel sat upon a red cushion, guards stood either side of it.

“Allow me…“ River was about to make a dash for it when suddenly a large tentacle shot out of the darkness and knocked all of them over, like bowling pins. Despite the racket, the guards in the room up ahead didn’t even blink, they seemed to be under the influence of the jewel.

“Bloody hell…“ Liv groaned, dazed for a moment after hitting her head.

“Are you okay, you knocked your head pretty badly…“ Helen seemed to have fared better, she was quick to lean over her and brush her hair back. Liv’s struggle to think clearly was not due to head injury but rather the way Helen pulled her up and held her close.

“I thought I was the med-tech around here…“ She managed a half-hearted joke but got lost in Helen’s bright eyes. The concern she found there made her heart beat a little faster.

“You’re not from around here…“ A deep voice hummed demanding their attention. A creature the size of a small van stepped from the shadows. Stepped was probably the wrong word for it. It slid, as it resembled a slug. A slug that had been crossed with an octopus, as long tentacles hung at its sides. It accessed the group with beady, black eyes while they clambered to their feet.

“And neither are you.“ The Doctor squared her jaw, holding her sonic out like a weapon. Protectively, she stepped in front of her friends. “You do realise this is a level five planet, don’t you?“

“This planet is not important.“ The creature declared with a guttural sound that resembled a laugh.

“Oh, I beg to differ and you have made a very big mistake by choosing it.“ The Doctor retorted firmly.

“The one that’s made a mistake is you, by coming here. This world will soon be ours.“ The alien seemed unimpressed by her declaration and slid forward. Behind it, guards appeared and advanced towards them as well. The Doctor and River exchanged glances, as did Helen and Liv, weighing their options.

“No, it won’t. Not once we’ve destroyed the jewel you’re using to exert control over these people.“ The Doctor stated but retreated a little as the guards came closer. Their eyes were blank, they looked into nothingness but moved ahead regardless.

“Their minds are weak.“ The alien laughed again.

“And you’re ugly but I wasn’t gonna mention it.“ The Doctor snapped. “Now, you have a choice. You either leave this planet and spare yourself the humiliation of us kicking you out, or we make you.“ She did her best to sound threatening.

“You and what army?“ The creature tilted its barely distinguishable head.

“I don’t need an army, I’m the Doctor.“ The Doctor declared and she halted her retreat. Time to stand tall and firm.

“You’re the Doctor?“ The alien echoed.

“Heard of me then? Good! That should give you reason to run.“ The Doctor grinned.

“Doctor who?“ The alien asked and the Doctor’s face fell with annoyance.

“Well, that’s a bit disappointing, never mind, but that means you probably won’t know my lovely wife either. Professor River Song, top-notch archeologist, great hair and one hell of a marksman… woman… Anyway, I digress, point is, she’s a great shot, and while you've been listening to me singing her praises, she’d taken aim at your jewel and any second now, she’ll…“

A shot rang out and the sound of splintering glass was ear piercingly sharp.

“NO!“ The alien wailed as the guards collapsed where they were marching. Gone was their puppet master’s influence and it left them spent and unconscious.

“Never give her the opportunity to talk.“ River pointed her gun at the alien. Another thing she just happened to have pulled out of her dress. Or was it from under it? Liv found herself swallowing hard at the thought of River having strapped a gun holster to her thigh… Either way, she had shot the jewel at a great distance, through two windows and an open door. And it had only taken her one attempt.

“You will pay for this!“ The creature screeched and lashed out with its tentacles that suddenly grew sharp thorns.

“Oh no, you don’t!“ The Doctor sonic-ed a chandelier above its head that came crashing down while River delivered three quick shorts, two at tentacles, the third right in the head. It was, however, Liv that reacted the quickest.

“Helen!“ She pulled her friend around, out of the way of the one tentacle that made it past River. She knocked her to the ground just in time and River quickly shoot the tentacle for good measure, even after the creature lay motionless.

“Let’s get out of here before actual guards arrive, come on!“ The Doctor didn’t give them time to recover, she pulled her friends up and pushed them alone the corridor as voices approached.

“You saved me.“ Helen seemed thoroughly out of breath when they finally reached the safety of the shore of the Themes. She looked to Liv would was just as exhausted and leaned against the balustrade to catch her breath.

“Well, couldn’t just let it get you, could I, not after all that time the Doctor and I have spent on getting you back…“ Liv huffed, trying to downplay how terrifying the thought of losing Helen really was. She had been in that situation, not knowing whether she was dead or alive, if she would ever see her again, and she couldn’t risk losing her again.

“Right… he probably wouldn’t have been best pleased if he’d have to find an antidote to some weird disease or God knows what that thing would have done…“ Helen mumbled.

“Exactly…“ Liv brushed her hair back awkwardly.

“You know, you two are really painful to watch!“ River interrupted, her voice full of frustration.

“What?“ The two of them looked up simultaneously to find River scowling at them, placing her hands on her hips, seemingly about to give a lecture.

“Right, I’m not telling you what to do but come on!“ The professor exclaimed exasperated. “Liv! Just take the plunge, okay?“

Liv blushed deeply. Was she that easy to read? To River Song, apparently so.

“I think I’ve had enough of London for the time being.“ The Doctor interrupted, deliberately intervening to give her friends an out should they need it. They didn’t look ready to have that conversation. “We can catch Shakespeare another time. Tropical beach next?“ She looked to River who rolled her eyes at her interruption.

“Wait, what about the Doctor, our Doctor?“ Helen suddenly realised.

“He’ll get himself out of that situation.“ The Doctor waved off her concern. “Might just take a little while. Maybe don’t wait up…“ She winked.

“So you do remember it! You said you didn’t!“ River exclaimed somewhere between affronted and amused.

“Only vaguely, time lines and all…“ The Doctor tried to play it off but her wife wasn’t having it:

“You just didn’t want to tell me what the sex was like!“ River retorted.

“I thought you weren’t jealous!“ The Doctor laughed.

“I’m not jealous, I’m curious! The virgin queen, I mean, there’s a story there, isn’t there!“ River insisted with a mischievous grin. “Besides… I’m taking you home tonight and that’s what counts.“ She grabbed hold of her chin and placed a firm kiss on her slightly parted lips. The Doctor chuckled and kissed her back. Nothing quite like a kiss from her wife at the end of an adventure, so it seemed. Liv couldn’t deny she quite enjoyed seeing them kiss, though there was a twinge of jealously as well. It wasn’t directed at either one of them but at the station in itself. She looked to Helen, more longingly than she probably should have, but the language scholar didn’t noticed as she just cleared her throat:

“Are you just going to leave us now?“ She asked as River and the Doctor pulled apart and looked back to them, somewhat sheepishly, almost as if they had already forgotten they were there.

“We’ll see you guys around, places to go, people to see, marriages to consummate.“ River smirked with a little wave of her free hand, the other pulling her wife close to her side. She regarded each of them with an affectionate smile. “Hope to see you again soon.“

“Until next time, my dear friends. I miss going on adventures with you…“ The Doctor smiled as well, fondly, in a reminiscent sort of way. “Be good to yourselves.“

“And you, Doctor.“ Liv mirrored her warm expression. “Till next time, Professor.“

“Enjoy the rest of your honeymoon.“ Helen smiled. “Have fun.“

“You too!“ River grinned and pulled something from her corset. Because why wouldn’t she. “Here, in case the Doctor is a while yet.“ She threw something towards them and Liv caught it rather clumsily.

“What’s that?“ Helen asked and Liv opened her hand to reveal a key.

“Key’s to the honeymoon suite we were staying in. That lovely pub right across from the Globe, maybe you can go and catch a show and crash there. Won’t be needing it now.“ River grinned and turned to leave.

“Liv?“ The Doctor demanded her friend’s attention one last time, making River wait a moment longer.

“Yes?“ The med-tech looked up from the key.

“I think you’ve both waited long enough. Perspectives do change.“ The Doctor smiled encouragingly, waving a final goodbye. Then she took her wife’s hand and they made their way along the shore of the river, taking the long way around back to the TARDIS.

“What did she mean by that?“ Helen asked curiously once they were out of earshot. She turned towards her and seemed to assume that she knew exactly what the Doctor meant.

“What she means is… I need to stop being such a coward.“ Liv mumbled, taking a deep breath. How to even start? The pressure was unbearable as she considered what she stood to lose if she was wrong, but the thought of what she could gain was ever so tempting. Particularly when Helen reached out, took her hands into hers, gave them a firm, reassuring squeeze.

“You’re one of the bravest people I know!“ She insisted, full of determination and Liv could tell that she meant it.

“Not always, not when it comes to this…“ Liv sighed, averting her eyes.

“To what?“ Helen retorted, puzzled. She wasn’t making any sense to her and Liv couldn’t blame her. She couldn’t get coherent words out. “Liv, you’re scaring me, what’s going on?“ Helen raised her hand and pushed it under Liv’s chin, forcing her to meet her eyes.

Liv decided that she couldn't delay any longer. She had to do it. Maybe it was obvious to everyone but Helen who just didn’t expect it, didn’t know how to read the signs or what to do with them. Maybe it was a stupid idea but the Doctor and River seemed to think it wasn’t. Maybe they had foreknowledge they did not. They were from the future after all. Liv decided to trust them, to take the leap of faith and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her best friend’s lips.

It was like a still moment. One of those special spots in space and time that the Doctor might speak of, where everything was fixed, everything was just the way it was supposed to be and always would be. A still point in time. Liv pulled back slowly and searched Helen’s eyes, full of surprise and confusion.

“I like you, Helen. More than I think you realise or know what to do with.“ Liv whispered, unsure how to put an attraction, an affection, an adoration and admiration into words that wouldn’t scare her away and bare the heavy burden a declaration of love.

“Oh…“ Helen’s voice was soft.

“It’s uh…“ Liv started to panic when she didn’t say anything beyond that. No response. Not one way or another, just Oh. “I’m sorry.“ Heat rushed to her cheeks and she quickly let go of Helen’s hands. She took a fearful step back. She realised she had messed up. “That was stupid… forget I even, I mean… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, if you’re just not… that’s fine, you’re my friend, I don’t want to jeopardise that and…“ She started rambling excuses. She wished she could go back to before, her friendship with Helen meant everything to her. If that was all it was ever going to be, she could content herself with that, she could make her peace with it, but she couldn’t lose her.

“Liv…“ Helen held up her hands trying to calm her. “Liv, stop!“ She took a step towards her and grabbed her wildly gesticulating hands again. “Please listen…“ Liv stopped, Helen’s hands in hers pulling her back to the present, demanding her full attention. She remained quiet for a moment and just looked at Helen who ran her thumbs over the back of her hands, holding them tightly as if she was worried she would run off.

“Yes?“ Liv asked slowly, her heart hammering in her chest.

“You’re quite wonderful, you know?“ Helen smiled softly.

“I uh…“ Liv didn’t know how to respond, it was like her brain had stroked out, which, being a med-tech and all, she knew it hadn’t but that was what it felt like. Helen’s words just didn’t sink in, not until she let go of one hand to be able to place it on her cheek instead.

“You can kiss me again, if, you know… that’s something you want to do…“ She said softly, blushing a little and Liv could tell she meant it. Maybe it would take some getting used to, those feelings, and allowing herself to feel them but Liv was determined to help her along. Help her to accept them for the precious thing that they were and allow herself the freedom to find a kind of happiness that she previously hadn’t considered for herself.

“Oh I really want to…“ Liv’s inhibitions fell away in one liberating blast. She took Helen’s face in her hands and kissed her. Properly. With all the love and longing she had carried in her heart for so long and Helen didn’t pull away, she wasn’t scared or overwhelmed, she just leaned into it, kissed her back and held her close.

“You’re right, you know…“ Helen whispered as she rested her forehead against Liv’s.

“About what?“ Liv asked softly, running her fingers through Helen’s soft blonde hair like she had longed to ever since meeting her.

“With what you said in the Tower about time… and love…“ Helen closed her eyes. “Love is begun by time…“

“Shakespeare.“ Liv chuckled at the irony of them both thinking of the same quote. For all they knew, Hamlet might be having it’s world premiere at the Globe right now.

“We’ve been through so much together. Experienced so much. Spend so much time together. Precious time. Time doesn't just bring love… it’s also inhabited by it…“ Helen broke off, embarrassed and Liv wouldn’t push her for more. She had already gotten so much more than she had dared hope for. They had so much more time yet to come.

“You do have a way with words, Helen Sinclair…“ Liv whispered, not trusting her voice not to break were she to speak up.

“Well, that’s sort of my job…“ Helen chuckled and Liv laughed, shaking her head to herself. She didn’t have a way with words herself, so she just leaned in and kissed her again, confident she could get her point across another way.

“Liv? Helen? What are you…“ A voice called from down the road, footsteps hurrying closer. “Oh… Uh…“ The Doctor halted, confused for a moment.

“Doctor! We thought you were still… preoccupied…“ Liv let go of Helen who blushed like a teenager caught by their parents while making out with their crush.

“Yes, the artefact, I…“ The Doctor started but Liv interrupted him:

“We’ve dealt with it.“

“You have?“ His face fell, almost disappointed and the two of them nodded. “Without me?“ There was a long pause as they nodded again. “Well, that’s just marvellous, isn’t it. How did you do it?“ He exclaimed after brief consideration. Helen and Liv exchanged amused glances, knowing full well he usually preferred to be the one to safe the day but they were quite capable in their own right.

“That’s a bit of a complicated story.“ Liv chuckled, wondering how to best explain without mentioning his future wife or the fact he would eventually turn into a very pretty blonde.

“I like a good story, let’s get back to the TARDIS then, if I can work out where I parked it…“ He looked around slightly disoriented. “I’ll put the kettle on and you can tell me all about it.“

“Maybe another time…“ Liv said, closing her hand around Helen’s as they started walking in search of the TARDIS.

“What?“ The Doctor looked over his shoulder, confused, watching the two of them following after him. He frowned and they could virtually see the clocks ticking in his brain. He was trying to work out what was different and why they would possibly be turning down a marvellous cup of tea.

“The recounting of the story… maybe that can wait a little while.“ Liv explained.

“Why?“ He seemed genuinely put out and they almost felt sorry for him.

“It’s just, Liv and I, we have some other stuff we want to talk about…“ Helen came to her aid, giving her hand a squeeze and Liv felt her heart soar. She had expected Helen to be more reluctant to hold her hand, particular in a public place in the distant past where it certainly was even less permissible than she had experienced. She could only hope that it didn’t feel as strange as she might have feared but the it felt extremely right.

“Right…“ The Doctor huffed, trying his best not to let his disappointment show. “Guess it’s just tea for one then… and you’re sure you don’t want me to tell you how I escaped the chambers of Queen Elizabeth?“ He looked back to find them shaking their heads.

“Not right now, no.“ Liv gave him an apologetic smile.

“Do you think he knows what’s going on?“ Helen whispered to Liv who just shrugged:

“Seems clueless as ever… Maybe he needs a few regenerations to think it over. Another five or so…“ Helen laughed a little and the Doctor started rambling again, up ahead of them, as the TARDIS come into view:

“Mind you, I have got this new novel, that’s gonna keep me busy while you do whatever it is you need to do. Came highly recommended. Detective novel, private eye in old town New York, Melody Malone, that sounds like a woman after my own heart.“

“Certainly sounds like it.“ Helen grinned and Liv laughed:

“Sounds like she would have a bag of tricks up her sleeve… or dress!“

33 notes · View notes

dirtyhelen · 3 years

Text

with you, a girl could get bolder (i just wanna be a little bit closer) - part three (final)

PART THREE: don’t go, the night’s not over

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Featuring: Fluff; Smut; Blowjob; Vaginal Fingering; Vaginal Fingering; Creampie

Words: 5767

Summary: Six months later, you and Bucky are ready for a second try at your first time.

A/N: “Part 3 won’t take this long, I promise!” she said. “Part 3 will be up in a few days!” she said. She LIED. (I’m she and I’m very sorry 😂🙈) Thank you again to everyone who liked/replied/reblogged Parts 1 and 2. You are all lovely, wonderful people and I hope you enjoy the final part of this little series 😊

________________________________________________________________

Slipping off your shoes at the door to your apartment, you glance behind you at Bucky, his cheeks and nose a tinted pink from a long afternoon in the summer sun. You’d spent the day together, lazing on a blanket in a secluded spot on the grounds of the compound, reading and talking and trading kisses, while Alpine roamed on her long leash nearby.

Bucky shuts the door and leans back against it but doesn’t take off his shoes or make any indication that he’s staying. And that just won’t do. Not tonight. Tonight, you have a plan. Well, an idea of a plan. Or something to talk about, at least. And step one is getting Bucky to stay over so that can happen.

“You wanna pretend to watch a movie for fifteen minutes then spend the rest of it making out?” you ask, turning to face him with a playful smile. Step one: complete.

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at you. “Last time you made me that offer you threw popcorn at me and there was no making out.” Okay, step one: almost complete.

“In my defence, I didn’t realize the movie was actually going to be good. And the popcorn was because you kept asking questions!”

“That movie was not good. It didn’t make any sense,” Bucky argues. “And I was promised kisses from my best girl,” he adds with an exaggerated frown that has no business looking as adorable as it does.

Forcing back a smile, you nod as though you’re giving what he said some serious thought. “You’re right. We should skip the movie and go straight to making out.”

Bucky laughs. “Sounds good to me, doll,” he says and pulls you in by the hem of your cardigan for a kiss. You feel his smile against your lips as you press him back against the door for a brief moment before pulling away and leading him to your couch.

Six months later and it still feels like a dream sometimes. You think back to that first night after the quinjet, crying on your bedroom floor, feeling like you’d just ruined your life, and maybe Bucky’s too. You think about where you are now. Standing in your apartment, flirting with Bucky Barnes, kissing Bucky Barnes, all easy warmth and affection.

It feels so simple now, but it took a while to get there. After months of pointless pining and feelings that were only revealed because of a freak accident, you’d both agreed to take things slowly this time around. With inexperience, anxiety, and trauma wedged between you like a minefield, you needed to really get to know each other, to feel truly comfortable together, before adding sex back into the equation. You needed to let the haze of infatuation fall away and see what was underneath.

For a while, in those early days and weeks, you’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like this was too good to be true. Surely something would happen and everything would fall apart. You’d realize the feelings you had were built on versions of each other you’d created in your heads, that the real thing couldn’t possibly live up to the fantasy. And sure, it hasn’t been smooth sailing all the way – no relationship ever is, and you and Bucky have a few extra challenges between you that most couples don’t – but six months in you know that what you have is real, and deserving of your time and effort.

Slowly you’ve gotten to know each other, from shy smiles and stuttering conversations. To chaste kisses and sweaty palms clasped together. To where you are now, heated kisses and wandering hands, developing a language all your own and feeling more and more ready to take on whatever comes next.

Right now you’re hoping whatever comes next is you and Bucky having sex. You’ve been thinking about it seriously for the past couple of weeks and you think you’re ready now. You feel secure, in yourself and your relationship, in a way you couldn’t have imagined six months ago.

You also feel super horny, in a way you could (and did) imagine six months ago. It’s getting harder and harder to break away from Bucky’s touch at the end of every “movie night”, and you’re going through batteries at an unsustainable pace. Something needs to be done. (Preferably you.)

Despite the certainty you feel in your decision, you’re nervous tonight, but it’s the kind of nervous that comes from trying something new, not the horrible anxiety of constantly worrying the next thing you say or do is going to be the thing that makes Bucky realize you’re not worth the attention he’s paying you. You’re definitely glad that phase has passed.

You take your time, letting the kisses deepen as Bucky gets you on your back, pressed close against you on the couch until you gather the courage to say what’s on your mind. You lean back a little more into the cushion under your head, pulling away from Bucky’s mouth slightly. Always careful never to push when you pull, he presses up on his elbows to look at you.

You huff out a nervous breath, building up to the question you want to ask. For all your confident teasing earlier, this is unfamiliar ground and you can’t help but feel apprehensive, even though you know there’s nothing to be afraid of. Sensing the tension, Bucky lifts his hand to cup your cheek, fingers pulling gently through your hair. “What?” he asks softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Steeling for it, you look him in the eyes. “Can we – I mean, if you want to – do you want to? Ugh, what is wrong with me?” Bucky’s face is all fond amusement at your fumbling and you cringe, screwing your eyes shut, telling yourself to just spit it out. “Sex. Do you want to have sex?”

Your face burns and you can’t bear to open your eyes, but you feel the surprised puff of breath on your face that tells you whatever Bucky thought you were gearing up to, it wasn’t this. His weight lifts off you entirely as he sits up on the couch and you finally open your eyes. Bucky is wide-eyed and pink-cheeked from more than the sun now, and you sit up to face him fully.

You’ve spent many an evening over the last few weeks tangled together on your couch or his, trading deep, lingering kisses. Often ending up with the hard length of his cock pressed somewhere along your body, and you know he can smell your arousal when it seeps into your underwear. Yet somehow it seems the idea of your physical relationship moving beyond that point seems to be a shock to Bucky.

“I mean, if you don’t want to, I totally under—”

“I want to!” he blurts, a little frantically, and you let out a nervous laugh.

“Are you sure? Because I can totally, totally wait. There’s no rush. I mean, we don’t have to have sex, like, ever, if you don’t want to and –” You’re cut off by the press of Bucky’s lips against yours, quick and clumsy, a last-ditch effort to shut you up. His hands cup your jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and you can’t help but moan as he slides his tongue into your mouth to trace along yours.

He pulls away after a too-brief moment but keeps his hold on your face, moving just far enough so you can see each other’s eyes. The heat you see in his gaze has your heart racing.

“Doll. I want to.” Each word is spoken carefully, deliberately, his voice low and slightly rough.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Okay.”

Neither of you moves, just sitting across from each other, faces inches apart. You open your mouth to speak but realize you were about to say okay again and break down in giggles instead. Bucky can’t help but join and you fall against each other, laughing yourselves breathless.

“I was thinking tonight if you wanted. But if you’re busy or something…” you say, when the laughter finally dies down.

Bucky hums, pretending to think. “My dance card’s pretty full, but I guess I could squeeze you in.”

You smirk. “I mean, technically, I think I’ll be squeezing you in.”

Bucky glowers at you, rolling his eyes, but you can see he’s fighting a smile. “Guess I walked right into that one, huh?”

You nod smugly. “We should probably go to my room now, right?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

You get up, taking Bucky’s hand and leading him to your bedroom. He’s been there before, has even slept beside you in your bed, but his presence in the space feels different this time, weightier now you know he’s not just here to sleep.

Bucky seems to feel the difference too, his eyes tracing over your bed like he’s never seen it before. You follow his gaze as it catches on the small, stuffed owl given pride of place among the various pillows and cushions. He’d won it for you at a game on Coney Island and you’ve slept with it every night since, holding it tight on nights he’s away on assignment.

You have very fond memories of that date. Bucky clutching your hand in his to ground him amidst the bustling crowds. The way he’d kissed you for the first time – the first time that counted – on the ferris wheel and sighed in relief when you kissed him back. “Woulda been a real awkward ride if you’d pushed me away,” he’d laughed. “Might’ve had to jump off.”

You reach to grab the toy off the bed. “Professor Feathersworth should probably spend the evening elsewhere.”

“Good call,” Bucky agrees.

You gently place the toy atop the laundry hamper in your closet and slide the door closed. You turn around and catch a fond look on Bucky’s face as he watches you and you walk over to him and lean in for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. His find their way to your waist as he walks backward, pulling you along without breaking the kiss, until his knees hit the foot of the bed. He sits and you follow, straddling his thighs as your kisses turn hungry.

Bucky trails kisses across your cheek and down your neck as your hips subtly grind down against his. He starts to tug your cardigan down your arms and you help him, shrugging it off. Your tug impatiently at the bottom of Bucky’s shirt until he lifts his arms, allowing you to pull it up and over his head.

You’ve seen his skin before, but never in this context. It’s strange to think about, but in those frantic, feverish minutes aboard the quinjet he’d been fully clothed, jeans tugged down just enough to free his cock, while you’d been completely naked. That specific memory sends a thrill through you and you file away the thought for later. Right now, you want to appreciate all the skin laid bare for you.

You trace your hands along his torso, the smooth skin and dark hair, the jagged scars. Thick pink lines branch out from his shoulder, where vibranium meets flesh. You shift back on Bucky’s lap and bend your head to press your mouth there, pressing kisses to the raised skin.

You hear his breath catch and you look up at him to find his eyes shiny and wet. You know it bothers him still sometimes – the arm and everything it means. You press another kiss where the scar tissue is thickest, murmur, “I love you,” into his skin.

You lean up, pressing another just over his heart. “I love you.” Then finally to his lips. “I love you.”

Bucky surges forward against you, claiming your mouth in a deep kiss. “I love you too.”

“Good,” you whisper against his lips with a grin. “Now that’s settled…” Your hands fall to the waistband of his jeans and you unbutton them with shaky hands that betray your nerves. You maintain eye contact as you do it, waiting for Bucky to tell you to stop. He doesn’t, so you tug the zipper down as well. You go to pull at the waistband but stop when you realize you won’t make much progress. “Would probably help if I wasn’t sitting on your lap, huh?” you laugh.

Bucky grins. “Yeah, maybe.” You stand up, stepping back and giving him room to lift his hips enough to get his jeans down and off before sitting back down. He reaches for your waist to pull you in but you sink to your knees instead.

You can see Bucky’s pupils dilate and his cheeks flush as he looks down at you. You’ve been thinking about this for ages and you’re hoping he’ll let you try tonight. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat and your palms sweat where they’re clasped in your lap, but you push through it. “If you want, can I maybe try going down on you?” you ask. Your face positively burns as you wait for Bucky’s response.

His hands fall to curve around your cheeks. “You don’t have to, doll, really. I don’t mind,” he says and you know he means it. Bucky would never pressure you into something you didn’t want. You’d told him earlier you didn’t have to have sex ever if he didn’t want to, and you know he’d say the same to you and mean every word.

“I know, Buck. I want to.”

“Fuck, I don’t know if I’ll be able to last if you put your mouth on me.”

You laugh. “I’d be more worried it’ll kill the mood entirely. I’ve never done this before, remember? It’s going to be horrible.”

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head. “My dick’s gonna be in your mouth, sweetheart. So long as you don’t bite it off, I think I’m gonna like it.”

Your cheeks heat and you lower your eyes. “You should probably take your underwear off now.”

Bucky nods then reaches behind him to grab a cushion. “For your knees,” he tells you, a little bashful, and for some reason it fills you up with soft affection, has you leaning up to press a quick, firm kiss to his lips before settling the cushion underneath you.

You don’t watch as he removes his underwear, looking away until you see them land somewhere in the corner of your vision. This part of him you’ve only seen once, and you didn’t have much time to study it then. You were too busy begging him to put it inside you.

Now, resting on your knees, you have a perfect view of Bucky’s half-hard cock rising up from dark curls. You just look at first, almost clinical in your curiosity. Your focused stare seems to have some effect on Bucky because you watch him fill and firm, untouched, right in front of your face.

“Neat,” you breathe out and Bucky laughs, loud and surprised. You look up at him, mock-offended. “What? I’ve never seen this in person before – it’s cool, okay?”

“‘In person?’” he repeats, smirking, and of course that’s what he’d pick up on. “You telling me my girl likes watching dirty movies?” He’s teasing you, enjoying how you stutter and fumble over your response.

“Listen, Barnes,” you sputter out. “We didn’t all grow up in the stone age when you had to carve your own pornography into cave walls.” Bucky snorts. “Some of us had easily accessible, free porn available. And if you don’t shut up you’re not gonna get to experience my horrible attempt at a blowjob!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, holding up his hands in defeat.

Feeling cheeky and brave, you lean forward suddenly and lick a thick line up his cock, base to tip, wiping the amused little grin right off his face. He stutters out a moan at the startling contact. “Fuck, doll, warn a guy.”

“Payback,” you smirk.

“If that’s your idea of revenge, remind me to tease you more often.”

You roll your eyes at him and grip his cock at the base, ready to seriously try now.

You have to admit, it does feel like a job, but not necessarily one you dislike, just one that takes time and practice to master. His cock feels heavy on your tongue, and the pre-cum that spills from the tip is bitter but not as bad as you thought it might be.

You do gag a few times, but Bucky doesn’t push you to take more than you’re able and you focus your attention around the first couple inches, stroking your fingers over the rest. He holds his hand over yours at first, showing you how to touch him – how tightly to grip, how to twist your wrist just how he likes.

You’re grateful for the instruction, and something about the feeling of his hand – warm and firm over your own, the way it brushes against your lips – sends a rush of arousal through your body.

You try to be mindful of your teeth, but there are definitely a few accidental grazes. You pull off every time to apologize profusely, but Bucky just strokes a thumb over your cheek and tells you not to worry so much, that you’re doing a good job. His praise floods you with pleasure that seeps down your body to settle in your cunt.

He guides you through it, gentle and encouraging, one hand resting in your hair, not tugging or pulling, just stroking softly through the strands. You like the way his fingers clench slightly, almost uncontrollably, when you do something that must really feel good. It sends a burst of pride through you each time.

It takes a while, but eventually, you sink into something resembling a comfortable rhythm, steady and even. You glance up occasionally to find Bucky’s eyes on you, heavy and hooded as he watches you work.

“Fuck, doll, just like that.” His voice is rough, breathy and low, and you’re shocked back to that cabin on the quinjet, that little image you’d had of him saying that exact phrase, and you can’t help but let out a moan. His reaction to the vibrations running through his cock is divine. He groans, flesh hand clenching in your hair, the other gripping the bedspread. “Oh, fuck. I’m gonna come soon,” he tells you, so you pull off, not sure you’re ready to try swallowing just yet. You leave one hand stroking over his length, just how he showed you, until it happens.

You keep your eyes trained on Bucky’s face as he comes, thirstily drinking in his expression as he thrusts up into your grip. His eyes slip shut and his mouth falls open in a low moan.

He’s beautiful, open and vulnerable and raw, and you feel powerful knowing it’s because of you. You stroke him through his orgasm until he’s twitching from the sensitivity. You press one last kiss to the tip, getting a hint of cum on your lips that you lick away under Bucky’s heated stare.

“So,” you start, grinning at the way Bucky seems to struggle to pull his gaze from your mouth to look you in the eyes. “How’d I do?”

He swears softly, glancing down at the mess on his stomach, then back to your lips. “You did good, sweetheart,” he says, fingers settling gently on your face, working over the soreness in your jaw.

You sigh happily and your thighs clench but you pull yourself to your feet, ducking down to kiss Bucky on the nose. “Back in a sec,” you tell him, darting to the bathroom to tidy up, coming back with a wet washcloth for him.

All cleaned up, Bucky tugs you back onto his lap, pressing kisses to your cheeks and forehead. His hands brush against the hem of your dress, rucked up your thighs from their spread over his hips. “Can I?” he asks, pushing the fabric up just an inch before stopping.

You nod your permission and he slowly drags the hem up your legs until it’s gathered at your waist. He pauses again, looking at your face and you nod, raising your arms. He pulls the dress over your head, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you almost completely bare before him.

It’s strange, and not what you expected, but you’re not uncomfortable even under Bucky’s intense stare. His eyes trace over your form, over your thighs and the place between them, up your belly to your breasts. Your nipples harden from the chill of the room and the warmth of his attention. You don’t feel confident exactly, but not shy either.

Just like the first time, your legs are unshaven, your panties are plain cotton, and you’re not bothered by either. But this time it’s not the influence of some strange, experimental drug. This time, you’re simply happy and in love, certain that Bucky loves you back, loves you best just as you are, not trying to be who you think he might want.

And if the hardening length pressed up against you is anything to go by, he doesn’t need you to be hairless as a shark and wearing Victoria’s most uncomfortable secret to find you attractive.

His hands follow the path of his eyes, thumbs stroking gently over your skin and settling under the curves of your breasts. Carefully monitoring your expression he glides his thumbs over your nipples. The skin of the right catches and drags a little in the nicest way, while the left is smooth and cool.

Bucky leans in to kiss you as his hands continue to toy with your body. Soft circles around your nipples, cupping your breasts and feeling the weight in his palms. You gasp into his mouth at the first gentle pinch of his fingers on your nipples, the sensation flowing directly to your clit. Your hips grind down against him and you feel him buck up to meet you.

Pulling you off his lap, Bucky rearranges so you lie on your back with him pressed along your side, leaning up on his elbow. His right hand glides down your belly, stopping at the waistband of your panties.

“Is this okay?”

“Please,” you breathe, nodding.

Bucky’s fingers slip into your underwear. “Tell me if you want me to stop, or do something else,” he says, waiting for your nod before continuing. He strokes over your folds, dipping two fingers into your opening and groaning at the slick there, gathering it on his fingers and dragging it up to your clit.

He makes light, unhurried circles and it feels good, nice, but not quite enough. Thinking of how he’d shown you what to do earlier, you let your hand rest on top of his. Bucky stills immediately and you feel him start to pull away.

You stop him with a gentle grip on his wrist. “No, wait,” you murmur. “It’s good, it’s just –” You guide his fingers back to your clit, pressing down until the pressure’s right. “And maybe –” You nudge so it’s just one finger resting against your clit.

Bucky nods, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Got it,” he says. And he does, finger moving around your clit until you’re breathing heavily in gasps and pants before stopping to tug your panties off. You don’t have time to feel nervous about being completely exposed to him because he’s touching you again, just how you showed him but faster now, as his lips press along your neck.

In just a few more moments you’re coming, hips arching up into Bucky’s hand as you moan. He strokes you through your orgasm, letting up when you twitch away from his fingers.

He kisses your cheek then slides his lips down to your open, panting mouth, slipping his tongue inside. “How’d I do?” he mimics as he pulls back. He’s smirking, the little shit, but his eyes are earnest.

“Not bad,” you say casually, like your heart isn’t racing still.

Bucky’s smirk splits into an evil grin and his fingers wriggle into your sides, tickling you. “Not bad, huh? You sure about that, doll?” You howl with laughter and try to squirm away from him, admitting defeat.

“Fine, fine! It was wonderful, amazing, life-changing!” you shout through yelps and squeals as his fingers continue their assault on your ticklish skin.

Bucky nods, stilling his hands. “Yeah, that sounds more like it.” You roll your eyes fondly as he shifts and you feel him smile against your lips as he leans down to kiss you, filthy and deep, reigniting the heat between your thighs.

“You wanna keep going?” he asks, pulling back just enough to say the words against your lips.

You nod, eagerly. “Yes, definitely.” You know things are moving fast, especially after six months of nothing more than kissing and cuddling, but you want him. You’re ready and you don’t want to go another night wondering what he’ll feel like inside you without that stupid aphrodisiac making everything hazy and blurred.

Bucky moves to rest his weight between your spread thighs and you feel the length of his cock press against your pussy. You can’t help but roll your hips a little, feeling the slick slide of it against your clit, still sensitive from your orgasm. Bucky moans into your mouth and you feel his hand slide between your bodies. You think he’s going to guide himself inside but he lifts his hips instead, muttering a curse.

“Almost forgot. D’you have a condom?” he asks.

You’d forgotten too, actually. You aren’t planning on using one tonight – if Bucky agrees, of course – but you’re glad he remembered and spoke up. You’ve heard too many stories from your friends of guys pressuring them not to use protection and even though you know Bucky’s not like that, it’s nice to have proof.

“I do have condoms,” you tell him. “But I’ve also been on birth control for a while now and I know neither of us has anything, so I thought maybe we could not use a condom? If you’re okay with that.”

The pink flush on Bucky’s cheeks deepens. “Yeah, I’m okay with that,” he says, voice a little ragged. His right hand slides between your bodies, two fingers pressing against your entrance. “Gotta open you up, doll. Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You nod your head, shuddering out a response as his fingers slip inside. It feels so good, his fingers stretching your walls. He adds a third and thrusts gently, keeping his eyes on your face, looking for any sign of discomfort.

You whine a little when you feel his fingers pulling out but gasp as they’re replaced with the thick head of his cock. He slides the tip up through your folds a few times, slicking himself up before letting it rest just at your opening.

Your eyes clench shut as you wait for the sweet relief filling you up but it doesn’t come. “Look at me,” Bucky orders softly and you open your eyes to find his fixed on yours, serious and intent. “Tell me if it hurts, or if you wanna stop or slow down, whatever.” You nod, eager to feel him inside you. “I’m serious, doll. You wanna stop at any point, you say so, I won’t be mad or anything.”

“I know, Bucky. I will, promise. I love you. I trust you.” You hold his face in your hands, keeping his gaze. “And that goes for you too,” you add. “We can stop any time.” Bucky nods and the tension eases from his expression.

You feel his cock slide against you again before finally you feel it press inside. He enters you with slow, careful thrusts, going deeper each time. You’d started off trading deep, soft kisses, but by the time his cock is entirely buried in your cunt, you’re mostly just breathing into each other’s mouths.

Bucky pauses, holding himself still inside you, letting you get used to the weight and pressure. For as much as the drug had heightened every sensation, it’s somehow so much more intense without it. Nothing to dull the stretch, nothing to cloud your mind with only thoughts of more. Before, there had only been lust and the uncontrollable drive to overcome it.

Now, there’s nothing to distract from the weight of Bucky’s body on top of yours, skin to skin, pressed so closely you can feel his heart beating against your chest. When he finally begins to move, it’s with slow, even strokes, face pressed into the curve of your neck.

The sensations are almost overwhelming. The first time had been good, had been more pleasure than you knew could be experienced. But this is something else entirely.

As grateful as you are that it was Bucky with you on that quinjet, you’re not sure how much it would have mattered once the chemical kicked in. By the time you were tearing your own clothes off, you weren’t really thinking about Bucky at all, just what he could do to your body.

Now there’s a connection. Now you know what he looks like when he sleeps. How he sounds when he’s angry, or scared. How he can’t help but mouth the words with his lips when he reads, and how he can sing along to Taylor Swift just as well as you can.

All those little details that add up to the person you love. It makes this more than sex, more than just bodies moving together for their own pleasure.

For as much as the term makes you cringe, you finally understand what it means to make love. You’ll be damned if the phrase comes out of your mouth in anything approaching sincerity, but you get it.

You and Bucky move together, your hips rocking to meet his thrusts, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He feels so good inside you, his cock moving in a smooth glide. Time and space seem to drift away until it’s just you and Bucky and the heat building in your core, ratcheting you higher and higher with every thrust.

Bucky pants above you, his hips moving faster against yours as he nears his own climax. His hand moves to your clit, finger circling just right as his thrusts start to lose their rhythm. You feel it when he comes, moaning out above you, pushing deep inside you as his cock pulses. He keeps up the motion on your clit and it’s only a few moments before you’re following, pussy clenching around him as you gasp, your head thrown back against the pillows.

You lie there for a few moments, Bucky’s body heavy on top of you, his breath hot on your neck as he grinds against you lazily, pulling the last aftershocks of pleasure from you both. Eventually, his cock softens inside you and he pulls out, pressing a kiss to your lips before turning over onto his back. You roll over on your side to face him, taking in his appearance.

His messy hair and red cheeks, his kiss-swollen lips and the glisten of sweat on his chest and arms. He looks fucking obscene. If your bones didn’t feel like jello you’d probably be climbing on top of him for round two.

Neither of you speaks, and you take a moment in the silence to do a quick emotional inventory. You suspect Bucky is doing the same. After all, it wasn’t the during that went wrong the first time, it was the after. You’re very pleased to note that emotionally, you feel just fine. Better than fine. You feel happy. Happy you took this leap, happy to be lying boneless and satisfied next to Bucky, looking forward to countless evenings ahead of you just like this.

There’s no shame or anxiety or regret, and the absence of all those horrible emotions that consumed you after the first time has you feeling almost giddy. You can’t help the wide grin that forms on your face or the joy that bursts out of you in a laugh. Bucky’s head turns toward you at the sound, and he looks at you with a matching grin and questioning brow. Giving you space to lead the way.

“Well,” you start, schooling your expression into something more serious, to middling success. “I don’t know about you, but I think that went pretty well.” You’re teasing, and you’re pretty sure he feels the same, but you really do want to check in.

Luckily, your suspicions are correct. Bucky huffs out a short laugh, settling into a soft smile. “No complaints from me, doll,” he says, sincere and playful all at once.

You lean in for a kiss, smiling against his mouth. Bucky tugs you closer, holding your face in his hands and licking into your mouth, slow and sweet. “I mean seriously, Barnes, that was some excellent teamwork.”

“Yeah, a real A+ effort.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Could probably use some more data though, before we jump to any conclusions.”

“Right,” Bucky nods thoughtfully. “Really ought’a increase the sample size before we make any judgments.”

“Exactly!” you say, just as your stomach lets out a loud, extended growl, practically echoing in the space between your bodies. You grimace. “Maybe after some takeout.”

“God, yes,” he groans. “I’m fucking starving.”

+++

An hour later you and Bucky are eating pizza on your couch, watching reruns of the Great British Bake Off. Exactly like that first night six months ago, and completely different, too.

Six months ago it was all polite conversation and careful distance, tip-toeing around each other, so protective of the delicate new something you’d just discovered together.

Now, Bucky’s feet are on your lap and you reach over him to steal peppers from his pizza. You talk over and around each other and when silence falls, it’s comfortable. You eat with all the grace of the Hulk assembling a jigsaw puzzle and Bucky belches just to see you glare in response.

If building a relationship is like building a house, you and Bucky are laying the foundation. You’re still protective of each other, of that not-new-but-still-fresh something, but it doesn’t feel so delicate anymore. The foundation feels solid beneath you. Strong enough to be tested and made stronger still in the aftermath. Strong enough to build on and solid enough to remain even if rough winds blow everything else away.

After all, it was rough winds that brought you together in the first place.

A/N: THE END. I hope this was a satisfying ending to this Bucky and Reader’s story. Feel free to leave a like, reply, reblog, etc. and let me know what you thought! I’m very open to feedback, especially since this is my first multi-part work. (I’ve definitely learned that I want to have things completely written before I start posting next time lol.)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #reader insert #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #series

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uncurlinglikeflowers · 3 years

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Queer Trauma, Coming Out, & the Long Road to Self-Love and Healing

As I’ve reflected on my past, I’ve discovered that my adolescence may be one of, if not THE most traumatic time of my life thus far as a queer person. The last few months with my incredible therapist have made me realize that the years of anxiety, panic, fear, self-loathing, confusion, and depression have scarred me deeper than I had previously thought. She also made me realize that this is at least partially because I have never really talked about it openly and in depth in a healthy and productive way before, which is what inspired me to start this blog to share my experiences with others that are currently struggling with their identity, or to allow those that are also currently healing from the trauma of their previously closeted life feel a little more seen.

I knew from a VERY young age that I was different, but didn’t know how or what it meant. I was a lonely kid for a lot of my childhood without many friends. I didn’t want to play football with the boys during recess. I sought companionship at lunch with a table full of girls more often than not, which in itself also made me feel incredibly self conscious at the time as well.

I asked, (with incredible shame) for the “girl’s toy” from the backseat in the McDonald’s drive-thru because I loved to play with the mini-Barbies and craft entire storylines for them. They were easier to hide in my room than regular sized Barbies. I spent most summers off school alone playing video games and reading book and book after book. I didn’t really click with the boys down the street. I was obsessed with Britney Spears and the color purple. I was lonely without really knowing what it meant.

I feel as though that fear I felt in my childhood and adolescence held me back from SO much. Middle school in particular was absolute hell. I hated it. I always felt constantly insecure and uncomfortable. I had absolutely zero confidence or self love. I hated my body and how I looked.

While other kids experienced their first relationships and first feelings of romantic love, I was convinced that it was just not a possibility for me. On top of being deeply closeted, scared, confused, lonely, and in deep denial, girls didn’t go for me anyway. I was the awkward chunky guy struggling with his identity feeling like he had to make up for it by working extra hard to get perfect grades and give himself 100% to other people. I tried not to think about it too much, but hearing about relationships, seeing people kiss in the hallways between classes, and girls talking about what they liked in boys which was the complete opposite of me... it was hell.

To make my self consciousness worse, I felt supremely uncomfortable in gym class and the boys’ locker room in particular. I was ashamed of my body and also self conscious for wanting to look at the other boys; terrified that they would catch on and beat me senseless. Hearing them consistently call each other f*g in a very VERY negative context drove me deep into the closet as the identity I already felt shame for was directly correlated with being a ridiculed outcast, and something that was inherently, disgustingly wrong and unacceptable. The worst insult teenage boys could deliver to each other in the safety of an unchaperoned locker room in a hick town often not kind to queer people or those that were different. I SO desperately wanted to fit in with the other boys instead of being any version of who I actually was.

Part of that façade of blending in with my hetero peers involved having a girlfriend for two months in 8th grade. We didn’t even kiss, let alone approach any sexual situations. I’m sure she had her suspicions. I was utterly obsessed with the concept of blending in by having a girlfriend like the other boys and just having someone special in my life, even if we really didn’t even do any couple things.

Upon reflection, I don’t think the concept of ever being sexual with her ever crossed my mind in the slightest. Even the idea of kissing her scared the hell out of me, and not just from first kiss nerves. Deep down I knew it wasn’t right for me. Don’t EVER tell a kid they’re too young to know. Fast forward to modern times, my first kiss with a girl was with a close friend YEARS after I came out. Go figure.

The idea of caring about and loving myself was non-existent at that time. It’s a very VERY new and ongoing journey for me. I didn’t really care about myself at all. I hadn’t learned how to. Mom was in and out of cancer treatments, and would later pass during my senior year of college and kick off my coming out process, but that’s a whole other post for another day. Spending pretty much my entire childhood watching mom deal with being sick, I didn’t want to cause my family any more discomfort. I was full of self loathing, fear, and confusion, but it seemed irrelevant and unimportant because I didn’t want to be a hindrance.

Instead, I tried so desperately to be the perfect kid and son by befriending my teachers, being a model student, and joining band and a bunch of organizations to stay as busy as possible to stay distracted and impress everyone else.I didn’t love myself because I didn’t think I was allowed to or deserved to in my own head. While I did finally make more meaningful friends in high school, I continued to go through the motions to make my family proud to make up for the scared closeted kid who thought he had to make up for his queerness as though it were a shameful weakness, and it seemed to be the only thing that could possibly matter at the time.

Non-surprisingly, I never really knew any openly queer boys in grade school. It probably legitimately wasn’t all that safe to come out in that environment. I’ll never forget the two boys I saw holding hands in a Wal-Mart that absolutely shook up my entirely reality, because I had never seen romantic same-sex affection in person before.

There was a lesbian couple at my school, but people said awful, degrading things about them behind their backs constantly and acted like they were the biggest freaks. Another boy in my grade in high school hadn’t come out yet officially but was very flamboyant, and thus was treated just as awful as the lesbian couple, if not worse. Other kids just regularly said despicable things about him without even knowing him at all. I even heard parents make blatantly homophobic jokes about him.

His life had to have been hell, and as a fully out queer adult, I still regret not being able to stand up for him more. That definitely forced me deeper into the closet. He wasn’t even out but got talked about like he was some disgusting abomination. How could I ever assume that I could ever come out, let alone kiss, date, and love another boy? I HATED the idea of any attention being placed on me, so I just wanted to survive school at that point.

I had multiple people throughout high school ask me if I were gay just as though it were the most casual question rather than a triggering inquiry that sent me into a mental frenzy every damn time it was presented. Having one of the jock boys ask me such a deeply personal question in passing on the way to my seat in Algebra class was traumatizing. I of course always said no, as at the time I was still convinced it was a passing phase and that I couldn’t actually be gay.

At home, in the days of Myspace, I got anonymous messages telling me they were pretty sure I was gay. The anonymity was arguably worse in some ways.

At a young age, I became hyper aware of how I carried myself, talked, and acted. I loathed hearing my voice or seeing myself in pictures, for fear of sounding too feminine or standing or emoting too gay. I obsessed over the concept that boys and girls carried their books a certain way, or the boys would be labelled as queer. I was paranoid about where I shopped for clothes, the colors I wore, and the length and fit of my shorts.

In middle school, I got a lilac colored trapper keeper for school that I ultimately had my parents take back to the store for a different one because I felt so self conscious about it all day. At home I played with my little Barbies, but didn’t dare tell the kids at school for fear of rejection and isolation. Overall, I felt grossly incompetent, irrelevant, and unimportant in my own mind. Unworthy of love and of course, deeply ashamed for my attraction to the other boys.

I never had anyone whatsoever to help guide me through the coming out process, because I didn’t know a single queer person who could. I’ve now dedicated a good amount of my energy trying to be that person I desperately could have used then for anyone else that needs that role to be filled, and for someone to tell them that someone is incredibly proud of them. An obscene amount of queer people don’t ever hear “I’m so proud of you!” when they really need it the most.

I also didn’t have any good queer representation on TV or in movies, so I really did feel completely alone at times. Most queer characters in media existedly solely to be made fun of and mocked, ratcher than celebrated, properly represented, or God forbid, given a legitimate love story, and the public’s reaction was so frequently one of such repugnance and disapproval.

This was also probably about the time that a close family member told me that he had punched a gay guy for hitting on him when he was younger, a story he again felt the need to share with a now ex-boyfriend and I when we were dating, as though that’s not a horrifying thing for an already scared and closeted queer to hear from their own family.

I think during middle school in particular is when my anxiety and depression issues started, but I assumed either that I was being a baby and that my feelings were invalid, or that it was just teenage angst. The idea that boys and men should mask their emotions and feelings and feel shame rather than expressing them was, (and seemingly appears to continue to be) a very real thing in small towns and society in general.

It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was experiencing varying levels of almost daily trauma that would fuck me up well into adulthood. If you take anything at all from this post, let it be that the conversation around mental health, (and men in particular in this instance) NEEDS to change.

Another particularly noteworthy event in my queer adolescence was when two of my friends, (both girls, shocker) discovered gay porn on my computer. While they pestered me about if it were mine while they laughed, I of course lied. I felt a deep shame and utter humiliation. On reflection, fucking IMAGINE if they had been able to be gentle and understanding with me and told me they loved me and still would even if I were gay. From then on I was terrified that they would bring that day up to our other friends as a joke. Perhaps they did a time or two, I don’t recall. These same friends made jokes about the queer kid I mentioned earlier, and both parents of one of the girls regularly gossiped and made homophobic jokes about him when I was at their house

By the time school dances rolled around, I knew I would never be able to go with anyone but friends. Even if I weren’t still deeply closeted, I’m pretty sure my school still had pretty strict rules against bringing same-sex dates to Prom. While I definitely had fun with my friends at the dances we went to, I so desperately longed for a world where I could dance with a boy who loved me like everyone else was able to.

The loneliness and isolation I felt at the end of those nights could be unbearable because it didn’t seem possible for me, even as I looked into the future. I was fully convinced I would live a very lonely life without anyone to love me the way I craved. I didn’t belong in that world, and wouldn’t ever be set up for that kind of happiness, joy, and feeling of content. I would live for everyone else but myself because that’s just the way the world worked for us queers.

I wish I had had just one single person then who gave me full permission to be my authentic queer self on any level. Someone who could hug me and tell me life after high school and college could and would be vastly different. Someone to tell me I wasn’t an unlovable disgusting freak, but rather a kind-hearted boy who deserved a deep love someday because I was a valid and gentle soul who deserved the world. I certainly deserved more than the shame and pain that constantly haunted me.

Maybe then I wouldn’t have thought about death before 30 so much and obsessed over it well into my college career. I might have realized that I needed to learn to be gentle with myself and take care of and prioritize me and my own happiness. So many people let me down and convinced me that I was a filthy sinner and an over-emotional kid with invalid perspectives and feelings. As most of my closest friends, (that I cannot stress enough have been the ones to save my life and encourage the authenticity that I present so proudly today) came into my life after I had already come out fully, they weren’t around during those dark early struggles.

Sometimes as an adult I still wonder what it would have felt like and how profoundly different my life could be if someone had held me close and sincerely told me they’re proud of me for what I survived and overcame, and told me that they can’t wait to see my eyes light up with the love I’ve always dreamed of in a boy, and that I still continue to seek.

Young, baby gay Travis would be in absolute awe if he knew what life had in store for him back then. To see a future version of himself painting his nails, wearing whatever he wanted, dancing with strangers at pride festivals, having the time of his life at drag shows with his queer family and falling in love with boys? Proudly holding a boyfriend’s hand walking downtown in a busy city? Openly telling his dad about the cute boy he’s going on a date with? Going Facebook official with a boy? Being a super vocal advocate and inspiration and mentor to not only queer family, but to people he hardly talks to but manages to influence and inspire just by unashamedly being himself? Genuinely looking forward to kissing his new husband in front of family and friends on his wedding day, knowing it’ll be one of the happiest days of his entire life?

Holy. Actual. Fuck.

Travis of six or seven years ago wouldn’t have even dared to dream this big, let alone baby gay Travis. He probably would have been utterly mortified but SO comforted to see that future life when he didn’t believe it to be any level of possible.

I’m so fucking proud of myself for this journey, and no one will ever take that away from me or water down my trauma or the grueling work I’ve put in. Genuinely, this is the one thing in my life that makes me absolutely burst with pride.

I think I want to learn how to keep baby Travis in mind with this pride without having to revisit the trauma in the process. Look back at him with open arms, excited to see him learn and blossom into his actual self someday. Even if he could have desperately used someone like the me I am today, he survived then, and continues to persevere today.

He’s queer as fuck, and proud to shout it from the rooftops. He’s a voice and an advocate for the voiceless. A shining light and beacon of hope for those still navigating their terrifying escape from their closeted life. He’s going to meet a man someday and love him so deeply in the way baby Travis always dreamed of. Above all, he’s going to continue to make that little guy so incredibly proud because he knows now the importance of loving himself in the process.

I’m so proud of that scared little boy. I just wish he could have known then how proud he would make himself one day.

As you talk with the queer people in your life, please keep in mind that just about all of us have incredible trauma directly tied to our identities. Talk to them with love, compassion, and understanding. Tell them how proud of them you are for pursuing their own happiness in the face of oppression and rejection.

Demand better from elected officials. Advocate for us. Shut down homophobic ideals, even if you think it’ll make your family and friends uncomfortable to hear. Support queer content, artists and creators. Be a proud ally, but don’t ever allow yourself to take the spotlight away from actual queer people or our queer spaces. Mourn, love, and celebrate with us.

Understand why pride is SO fucking important to us, and why you never have to worry about needing your own pride events. Listen to us and love us for exactly who we are, and were always meant to be. Love is the most incredible, beautiful, and often rare human experience we’re able to experience during our short time on this planet, and it should always be celebrated.

Happy Pride!

#pride #gay #lgbt #journaling #love #queer #coming out #coming out stories #queer trauma #adolescent trauma #self love #healing #trauma

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saranghanuuu · 3 years

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PERKS OF DATING A YOUNGER GUY I LEARNED AFTER WATCHING CHINESE DRAMA FIND YOURSELF + REVIEW!

1. He has less baggage

This means that he has more time to attend to your needs and wants unlike an older guy with a demanding schedule and lots of responsibilities at hand.

2. He's more open-minded and adventurous

They are open to having new experiences and won't judge you for veering off the path you should stay on.

3. He's infectiously energetic *ehem*

Need I say more? A younger guy's youthful sense will surely find unimaginable ways to impress you!

4. He puts you on a pedestal

A younger man will appreciate your maturity and experiences and will admire you for it. They're also most likely take advice from you without letting it bruise their ego.

5. He'll make you feel young

Be prepared to relive the fun parts of your younger years with him.

It's not so wrong to say that the May-December relationship is taboo, especially among Asians. Most people I know had this inkling that when a younger guy hooks up with a woman way older than him, it could prolly mean one of two things — the guy's a paramour or she's a sugar momma. I'm honestly not a fan of it either on the premise that women mature faster than men. Let's be real, an immature relationship is a disaster. But now that I'm in my late 20s, and a hopeless romantic single at that, I kinda pondered over this. It suddenly occurred to me, what if one day I’m caught up in the position of being pursued by a younger man? Will I let the stigma affect me emotionally? Or will I take the risk ‘coz all is fair in love? I still don’t have a definite answer to this question. However, watching Find Yourself served as an eye-opener for me to look at things from a different perspective.

Find Yourself is a 2020 Chinese drama starring Song Wei Long and Victoria Song. It tells the story of a 32-year old Executive Director who never *even once* experienced dating. Given her age and career stability, she receives constant pressure from the people around her to find someone to marry and has since frequented blind dates arranged by her family, friends, or colleagues. But this girl is just someone who swears by the "spark" - no spark, then no point to the relationship. She may be old for fantasizing over first love and such, but she still yearns that it'll naturally come to find her someday. Until her thirst for real romance is quenched by a 22-year-old guy who started working as an intern in her company at his brother’s request.

Although hesitant at first due to their huge age difference and the societal views, she went out with him on the condition that they'll keep it a secret for the first 3 months. If everything went well, she agrees to publicize her relationship with him.

Let’s start off with the good things...

I just can't with this drama...! This so beautiful, cute, relatable - especially for a woman in late 20s like me.

Plot-wise, it was well-imparted and makes perfect sense, touching a looooooot of relationship aspects in 41 episodes. Not only did I enjoy the happenings between our main couple, but our side couples' stories are very interesting too.

This drama pretty much straightened out my prejudice about age-gap relationships.

Light-hearted, just the way I like it! Every episode will make you smile and/or laugh hard.

Sexual tensions overload and superb kissing scenes! Let those hormones rush in. Not awkward to watch 'coz They. Did. Not. Hold. Back. Ack! If you're single, be prepared to feel MORE SINGLE watching this drama.

Well-written lines that will make you feel real emotions. The words will shoot you straight to the heart.

Acting-wise, the casts, from the mains down to the sides, did a super fine job in conveying the sentiments of their characters. My highest admiration goes to male lead Yuan Song, not (only) because he’s young, hot, and handsome, but because his youthful vibe made me reminisce the paradox of my early 20s awww. Anyways, in the beginning, I am sort of confused why (of all girls) he fell head over heels with our female lead He Fanxing who's obviously out of his league. I even suspected him of taking advantage of her naivety in matters of the heart. But as the drama went along, our dude proved himself genuine... That he's sincerely just a guy who's deeply in love with a woman... That indeed, true love can exist in this kind of relationship. Both Yuan Song and Fanxing emotionally benefited from each other and it's so lovely seeing that.

⚠️ AND SORRY BUT THIS IS A SPOILER ALERT⚠️

Halfway through the drama, our main couple called it quits. I'm somewhat grateful that it happened. Their break-up scene is just so powerful I had to rewind it many times. Not because I liked seeing them suffer from the consequences of their incompatibility. Rather, I loved it 'coz it became the turning point of their relationship.

Their love is premature, to begin with — trust isn't mutual, commitment is one-way, only showing each other's good sides in fear of the relationship turning sour, one is willing to compromise while the other wants to avoid responsibility, filled with doubts and insecurities. During this break-up phase, we were shown the difference between how kids and adults behave and decide in a dilemma. I suddenly remembered this one line delivered in the drama which I agree with — "Only kids would choose one or the other. Adults find solutions". The break-up also served as our main couple's period of contemplation about who and what they want in life. It taught them how to fully embrace their offbeat romance against the norms. Fortunately, things wrapped up into a sweet end.

And of course the bad...

Hmmm... Maybe I'm just not used to it but am I the only one who thinks that this drama is quite lengthy? Yes, I enjoyed it but it's not a good one to binge-watch. It took me almost a month to finish this I nearly drowned haha. Honestly, there were parts they could've just compressed instead of dragging it for too long. One example is Ye Luming and He Fanxing's relationship trial. Ooohhh I hate this part it brought shivers down my spine ugh. Well truth be told, Luming and Fanxing are compatible and better off as friends. They jive so well, and I give it to them that they're both adults who can only understand adult things.

But when Luming all of a sudden became a sneaky character to an intolerable point... Ah, I don't know anymore! Seeing how compelled Fanxing is to being Luming's girlfriend got under my skin. Although these ugly parts eventually became a good contributory factor to Fanxing's realization of her true feelings towards Yuan Song, but still...! I also hated Fanxing at one point for being so gullible in love. But yeah, I had to swallow it because that's her character setup in the first place. It should be expected of her to be hasty and dubious about it.

On the other hand, I wished they've been generous in showing us more about how Yuan Song and Fanxing's relationship is going after the public reveal. I've been waiting for this the entire time (they could've done so much more in 41 episodes' length!) so I'm quite disappointed.

After watching the second season of Well-Intended Love, I admit I lost interest in Chinese dramas. So watching this restored my faith in them. I even have a list of C-dramas lined up now! But I have to move on from this one first before I start another. It's not as easy as I thought ㅠㅠ

What do you think about this drama? Are we on the same frequency? ❤️

If you haven't watched this yet, watch it now. As in 지금부터 RIGHT NOW. Highly-recommended!

#find yourself #下一站是幸福 #song weilong #victoria song #chinese drama #romance #comedy #drama reviews #yuan song #he fanxing #chinese #romcom #cdrama #may-december relationship

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starkerisendgame · 4 years

Note

Hi! This is weird to ask but can you make a starker fic with Peter being a camboy and he doesn't know that his idol is watching his shows. Eventually when Tony figures out that Peter is Spider-Man, he goes to Peters apartment like in the movie and they chat. After the whole civil war is over, Tony proposes to be Peters Sugar daddy. P.s. Love your fics 😘❤

I hope this is what you wanted! I’m so sorry WIPs are taking me a long time, I’m working across three accounts and I’m finishing up in college for the semester. Thank you sm for such an invigorating, exciting prompt!

[P.2]

Struggling financially sucked in general. Being a struggling student was even worse; because supplies weren’t cheap and textbook price tags made him whimper and there was only so much ramen a guy could eat before looking at the packets made him want to headbutt a metal spork.

Arguably worse, though, was being a struggling student who spent most of his nights running around as Spiderman, using expensive chemicals for his web formula (there was only so much he could steal from the school) and constantly having to repair his suit. Not to mention the eye-watering medical bills on the very rare times he actually dragged himself to hospital.

All in all, whilst he enjoyed his life; he also spent most of it envying the people who didn’t have to choose between their water bill and a new winter coat. Or patching up their secret superhero suit and eating something other than instant noodles for the rest of the month. When he’d received a message on his Instagram account from a supposed ‘director of entertainment’, alongside a link to what had turned out to be sexual camshow website, well. He’d almost immediately marked it as spam and moved on.

Except.

Peter had always been complimented on his looks. His ‘pretty face’ and the lithe way his body had developed, trim little waist and strong arms. His plush mouth and his wide eyes. At first it was as a young child, doe-eyed and chubby-cheeked. How cute other parents would coo, prodding at his long lashes and his tight little curls.

As a young teen, there had been some negatives thrown in. Sneers at his slightly feminine looks. Though it hadn’t stopped him from brawling about on the football field or going through that horrible phase where he didn’t give two genuine fucks about his clothing. Girls had asked if he wore mascara, if he curled his hair, had giggled over how pretty he was.

As a young adult, Peter’s looks were both a bane and a privilege. He had endless compliments, advances, all the sex he could want (and didn’t accept). People bought him drinks or let him buy the last of something at a bat of his lashes. And in turn, people sneered at him and called him gay. Told him he needed to ‘man up’ and that a face like that didn’t belong on a boy. He got carded for everything and the time the delivery guy for his dildo asked him for ID would forever be the single worst moment of his life.

And the sexual remarks…Well. Peter stared at his phone, at the site address typed into the search bar but unpressed, biting nervously at his lip. He’d been told before he’d be good at porn. That he was good looking enough to do things like sell nudes, or model. And it brought in a lot of money, even for basic stuff, right?

He hit send.

And that was how Tony found SpiderTwink2001. Not very creative on Peter’s part, but then again, the boy hadn’t actually expected his profile to go anywhere. At first it was filled with meh quality shots from his phone. Awkward playing the camera and fumbled editing as he learned.

But then he taught himself and used what spare money he could find doing odd-jobs and as thank yous from the people he saved as Spiderman and bought himself a pretty basic DSLR recording camera. Some mid-quality editing software and his videos became clearer. Smoother. He learned how to talk as though the camera was his partner and learned what angles worked.

By the end of the year, SpiderTwink2001 was the 55th most popular blog on the entire site, and Tony Stark was invested.

He hadn’t meant to find it. Not at first. Well. He’d been looking for porn, obviously, but he’d stumbled across Peter’s blog after searching for close up videos, full on scotch and overcome with the sudden desire to watch a cute little ass stretch open around a cock.

He was barely on page three by the time he found the video, apparently one of the guy’s most popular shoots. It begun with a shot of his lower back and the fat, round swell of his ass, sitting above one of the largest dildos Tony had seen in a while. A little bubble in the lower hand corner of the video informed him the toy was almost four inches in circumference, and almost eight inches in length. His own cock, of similar measurement, immediately made its presence known.

The boy begun to sink down in a controlled, slow movement, the camera at just the perfect angle to catch the toy’s shimmery blue body disappearing slowly, so slowly into the welcome embrace. The softest, sweetest moan Tony had ever heard drifted from the holo-screen, high and keening as the boy just kept sinking down, swallowing the toy inch by inch. The camera zoomed in as the boy then begun to lean forwards, bending the dildo and giving the camera a HD view of where it was hidden in the plush depths of his ass.

“Kid’s good” Tony grunted, digging a heel into the bulge of his cock. Knew how to perform. The kid was breathy but not the overly fake every-second-of-the-video moan/scream sounds that most porn contained. Just the odd sound at suitable intervals that had Tony sinking lower in his bed, thighs parting as he kneaded lazily at his arousal.

The boy rode the toy at a torturous pace, so much so that even Tony was impatient in his pleasure, intent on watching the video until it ended, but not wanting to cum too quickly into it. The boy’s raw little rim stretched around the toy, rosy and tight as he bounced and ground in turn. Greedily clinging to the toy on each upwards motion, swallowing it down with ease on each downward. He was a pretty thing, shaved and clean with tight, round little balls. Strong thighs when the video panned out a little.

About mid-way through Tony let his head fall back, lifted his hips to let his cock flop free of his boxers and against his hip, his own pre-cum hot on his skin as he reached down, wrapped long fingers around a longer length and squeezed just enough to stave the ache. On the screen the face-less boy had sunk deep onto the dildo and was rocking on it, no doubt grinding his prostate as just visible between his legs, he pumped his cock in time to his movements.

The boy was letting out desperate little unfs with each motion, quiet, almost like he was not home alone. Tony stroked himself firm and slow, more feeling the length than doing anything about the way it drooled over his stomach. The video still had a way to go, and he wanted to be there for the end of it.

Tony breathed out as he watched the boy, who was riding his sweet spot like he’d die if he didn’t. Tony found himself responding each time a sweet, high little moan or whimper came from his speakers, stripping his cock in time to the way the boy’s hips began to twist and grind faster.

And then the boy was slowing, staving off his pleasure, and rising to his knees. Tony was about to spit a curse - because how cruel was this? - When the camera cut, and the scene stole his breath away, fingers locking around the base of his cock.

Now, the boy’s front was to the camera, hips pushed forwards, low on his haunches so the dildo was bent backwards into his pert little body, the boy’s round, small balls resting on its base. His cock was a true thing of beauty, petite and slender, cut neatly. The tip was dusky pink and sheened with slick.

His hips rolled sensually five more times, and that pretty, pink dick jerked against a taut stomach and prominent hips, a cracked cry filling Tony’s ears and pearly globs of cum splattered against that slender stomach and began to dribble down the muscles slowly. Tony spat a curse and his hips hips lifted in response, barely managing to lift his shirt out of the way of his own cum.

It got worse from there. He followed SpiderTwink2001, and found it was his go-to blog. When he was tense and full of adrenaline after missions. When he came home from Galas in need of stress relief. When some little shit riled him up with no intentions of following through.

That pert little ass and pretty little cock almost became akin to an addiction. Tony set up a software that would send him an alert on any new videos, found that he’d more or less abandoned any and all other porn in favour of watching the boy, who never showed his face but was still the body behind all of Tony’s wet dreams.

He was in a meeting when his phone vibrated softly, just enough to draw his attention, in the specific three-beat pattern that he’d designated to SpiderTwink2001′s alerts. He sucked in a sharp breath and risked a glance across the room, making sure that Pepper was watching the slides and not him before he risked sneaking his phone from his pocket, just enough to see the top portion of the screen.

SpiderTwink2001: Face Reveal.

Tony nearly dropped his phone, leg jerking up and knee banging into the underside of the table. He spat a curse, cringing as he looked up to find the rest of the room eyeing him warily.

Except for Pepper. She eyed him like she was mentally throttling him with great sincerity.

“Lab stuff. Continue” he dismissed, waving a hand. The poor marketing employee was only three words into her sentence when he abruptly stood. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Continue, I just won’t be here”.

“Tony fucking Stark, sit down or I-”

“Will be receiving a very big gift basket very soon. Do enjoy the lunch!” Tony hastened to cut her off, darting passed before Pepper’s manicured nails could snag his arm. He could feel the irritation radiating off her, and vowed to upgrade her gift basket from ‘very big’ to ‘the biggest’.

He was barely in the safety of his own penthouse when he was waving up the holo screen, hands already unbuckling his suit pants as he moved towards the expensive couch. As an afterthought he asked JARVIS to lock down his floor, sinking onto the plush seat with a groan as he set SpiderTwink’s video to the screen.

It began with just a body shot, the boy naked save for a pair of sleek black shorts, like he’d been at the gym or in bed before deciding to make this. And then he began to talk. SpiderTwink’s voice was soft and lilted, a little higher than most men’s, but delicious to Tony’s ears. He’d heard that voice mewling out ‘Daddy, please!’ More times than he could count.

“Okay. Uh. So I mean this is kinda two things? At once. Two reveals, I guess. Firstly, I’ve decided to branch out into camming, and doing live shows. Which is kinda why I’m doing this video”.

Tony’s fingers stilled over his buckle, both invested and mildly disappointed. Clearly this wasn’t going to be a porny kind of face reveal, but it still meant getting to see the visage that belonged to every wet fantasy from the past four months. He let his hands fall away and shifted to get comfortable instead, listening intently.

“And, uh. I mean, I can’t really stop any of you trying to like, stalk me on Facebook and stuff, really. But…Please don’t? Its kinda weird, and-”

The talking continued for a little while, endless, cute rambling that bounced from topic to topic. Tony increased the volume and went to get himself a scotch, buckling his belt again as he went. He was back on the couch when the boy sucked in a sharp breath, stomach muscles flexing, and reached for the camera.

Tony brought the scotch to his lips for a slow pull, and inhaled the burning amber liquid when the single prettiest boy he’d ever seen blinked owlishly at the camera, nervous and shy.

He had a slender face, with a strong jaw and prominent cheeks. That was about as much as Tony could notice behind the blurring of his eyes, waving for the video to pause as he hacked a series of coughs, thumping at his chest.

“Sir, do you need-”

“No! No” Tony wheezed, shaking his head. Several more moments of feeling like someone had dropped a petrol bomb into his lungs, and he sank back against the couch, wiping his eyes and motioning for the video to continue. SpiderTwink gave him a sheepish, meek smile, like apologising for the incident.

“So. Uh. Hi”.

Hi indeed.

The boy had slightly mismatched eyebrows, one ticking upwards midway through, but it gave him a sweet, inquisitive look. He had a wide mouth and even wider eyes, dark brown and framed by thick lashes. He screamed pretty as much as strong, as Tony knew from his lithe, toned figure. Tony paused the video just to stare at him a little longer, transfixed.

Somehow, knowing he was so invested in someone so attractive only served to make it even better. The kid almost seemed too good to be true, such a perfect little body and a pretty face to boot. His fingers itched to type the command, to find out everything he could on the boy, but whilst he was somewhat of a pervert, he wasn’t a creep. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against his whiskey tumbler.

“JARVIS. I want to be notified the instant this kid goes live. Every single time. I don’t care if I’m mid-battle or mid-meeting” Tony instructed, then he paused, and raised his free hand to rub at his jaw. “And hide any financial connections to this from Pep. And Rhodey. In fact…Make another ghost account. I don’t want another lecture”.

“Of course, Sir” JARVIS responded diplomatically, and Tony shifted, clicking off the video and onto one of his personal favourites. His cock had immediately perked up at the kid’s face, and wasn’t going anywhere soon. Besides, now that he could imagine that pretty little mouth and those gorgeous eyes while watching the kid fuck himself stupid, the videos were just so much better.

“Lock down all communications. I don’t want any interruptions for the next 60 minutes” Tony commanded as he began to open his belt buckle, tongue sliding across his lower lip in anticipation.

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sabreean · 3 years

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One word for you...

Where I have not gone plastic-free:

Bread box: There are no plastic-free, airtight bread boxes that I’ve been able to find and I *must have* airtight. I make my own bread in a bread machine just because I like to, and the first few loaves I made here on the humid island grew mold within three days because my old bread box was not airtight. Bread bags are more eco-friendly but aren’t airtight, and will hold the humidity. I could find no silicon boxes and also could not find silicone containers/bags that I could be sure would be big enough to hold a loaf of bread and still close completely. I’m considering a giant silicone bag I found online, for marinating meat, so if I get that I can see if a loaf will fit inside. But I haven’t pulled the trigger on that yet, buying something just to marinate meat doesn’t fall neatly into the “I really need it now” category. So I purchased a BPA-free plastic, airtight box and it seems to be working very well. It’s so airtight that I was able to store bananas in it as well and there has been no sign of fruit flies.

Suncare: I spent two days working on the porch. I was under a roof in shade the entire time but I sunburn if I stand next to a toaster, so at the end of the second day I looked like Roy Neary in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. As in the right half of my face was bright red. I wasn’t wearing sunscreen because it breaks me out. All of it. Every single sunscreen ever. They all break out my face, neck and chest within 20 minutes of application. So I did some research and learned about mineral sunscreens versus chemical sunscreens and after reading a lot of recommendations and reviews, I ordered Alba Botanica Sensitive Mineral Sunscreen. Yes the tube is plastic, but there’s probably no avoiding that. The sport cream is 45 SPF, waterproof for up to 80 minutes, vegan, free of all the chemicals that turn my face into a Marscape, biodegradable and - get this - reef safe. That’s a “gee how nice” for most people but now that I’m swimming around coral reefs, shit got real. They also make a spray-on but it’s not legal to ship aerosol cans to Hawaii, something about them exploding under pressure blah-bibby-blah. Pretty bummed about that. For those wondering, until now I’ve worn a sun visor whenever I’m outdoors but it didn’t occur to me to wear it on a covered porch. I’m sure it didn’t occur to Roy on a dark deserted highway in the middle of an Indiana night, either. LATER UPDATE: Native makes a mineral sunscreen and I thought it wasn't water resistant, but it turns out that it is, although I should not have had to dig so deep into their website to find this out. Better than getting anal probed, all things considered. The Alba sunscreen is very thick and hard to squeeze out of the tube, and you can feel it on your skin at first but you forget pretty quickly. It is completely unscented. You have to make sure to rub it in well if you don’t want to look a little weird. It showers off clean and easy and after a few days with it, not a single blemish! Our pharmacy sells some water resistant mineral sunscreens. I didn’t price them the last time I was there to compare with online ordering and they are probably reef-safe because as of January 1 of this year, suncreeens containing oxybenzone and octinoxate are banned in Hawaii to protect the reefs. But my next purchase will be Little Hands because it is made right here in Hawaii. I have been a big believer in ‘buy local’ for many years and they are plastic-free.

Groceries: Groceries haven’t changed. I’ve been using cloth shopping and produce bags for many years, they just bloody well work better. I do buy some foods in plastic, often there just isn’t any alternative. This was true even on the mainland. The main change is that now I walk to the store more often than not. I was able to walk to almost everything I needed when I lived in Austin’s SoCo in the early aughts and I loved it, I am so so happy to be able to do that again. Knowing I’m just a pleasant stroll away also means that I only buy what I need in the immediate future. There are a few exceptions for items that sell out very soon after the weekly supply barge comes, and don’t always get restocked even then. I drive when I have to buy heavy or awkward to carry things, like a case of soda. I’ve found conflicts with grocery choices because of a weird contradiction: non-hippie products in cardboard/paper packaging versus hippie products in plastic. I first noticed this when I went to buy sugar the other day - do I get the organic non bleached sugar in the plastic bag, or the nonorganic bleached sugar in the plastic bag? It wasn’t much of a conflict in any real world sense, just something that grabbed my attention. (I went with the plastic by the way, for the organic foodstuff that was going to go into my body).

Probably the clothesline, I have no idea what the hell that thing is made of, most likely nylon. We don’t use it for everything because it’s too humid here to dry everything in a reasonable amount of time. But we use it for some things - especially towels and swim wear - and I’m glad that we have it and it saves money on electricity. Our electricity generation here on the island is likely solar but still, no need to be greedy about it. Lots of people here have clotheslines, they are a common sight I am glad to see.

Bandages: I use Wellys. Patch bamboo bandages sound great, but I am clumsy AF and so I need bandages that are going to stay on through wet and dry and everything else. Wellys are flexible fabric, latex-free bandages made in the USA, in reusable tins that you can buy refills for if you don’t want a new tin, and that create a seal around all four edges. They are a certified B Corp so even with a bit of plastic, the company is still in line with my ethics.

Makeup: I use mostly mineral makeup, because it lasts longer (no organic ingredients to breed bacteria) and many mineral brands offer smaller quantities that are more sensible for people who don’t wear it everyday, or at least don’t wear the same colors every day. On the mainland I went weeks without wearing makeup and here I’ll probably go for months, it’s just such a casual place. I might wear some when we go across to Maui for a long weekend. But there are a lot of all natural and plastic-free makeup options out there these days, I am glad to see. If I need to replace anything I will shop with them but it’s just stupid and wasteful to toss everything out and buy new. One thing I won’t compromise on is mascara, I use Thrive because it really does what it claims, and it is still a company that aligns with my ethics. Many zero-waste brands sell cake mascara and that’s a complete nope for me. I tried cake mascara in high school, when I was going through my Audrey Hepburn/Sophia Loren makeup phase and I really didn’t like it. I also tried cake eyeliner and must confess that this elder goth never ever got the hang of liquid eyeliner, Icarus winged better than I can. I gave up a long time ago, pencil me in baby. Also, I wear lipstick, the paint-on stuff that stays on through food, drink, sex and a nuclear blast. IMO, lip balms are a waste of money and do not count as ‘makeup’, unless you’re only intention is to prevent chapped lips and with a small amount of color that lasts few minutes at a time.

Hair brush: I need a new hair brush that is designed for my long fine mane because my hair is getting a lot of punishment here, between wind and swimming and so more frequent washing and lots of pulling and tugging into braids. I bounced back and forth between Ibiza (boar bristles, wood handle) and Mason Pearson (boar bristles, plastic handle), for about half an hour. I finally decided to bite the big one and invest in the Mason Pearson. It is universally reputed as the best hair brush to be had on planet Earth. The was company founded in London by a Yorkshireman named Mason Pearson (bet you didn’t see that coming) in 1885. The boar bristles are either shed bristles collected from the wild in India and China or sourced from the meat industry as they are a by-product of processing farmed boar; you may ask so I will answer and yes, I do eat boar. Mason Pearson is still owned and run by the Pearson family and the Pearson women have always played integral roles in the company. Indeed Mary Pearson was the CEO for the 20 years following the death of her husband, founder Mason, and one of their daughters ran the top floor of the factory on Old Ford Road in London for 50 years. You can purchase a brush with a handcrafted made-to-order wood handle but while I am willing to make the investment in a Mason Pearson brush, I just can’t bring myself to be so self-indulgent as to even send a price inquiry for the wood model. This is where my best friend reminds me of the lengths I went to and the price I paid to obtain a bottle of the finest Irish whiskey in the world to demonstrate that yes, I can be that self-indulgent without much convincing. I just can’t bring myself to do it with a hair brush. I purchased from Pasteur Pharmacy in NYC because they made their bones, if you will, in their early years in the 60s by catering to humans with dogs.

Bed blanket: I just couldn’t bring myself to buy a bamboo blanket/bedspread that costs in the $275 neighborhood when the dogs will be spending at least as much time on it as we will spend under it. So we went with half cotton/half bamboo for a much more reasonable price. The temps here are warm by the thermometer but the air is heavy with humidity (100% yesterday and that doesn’t necessarily mean rain), so when the fans blow it around it can be pretty damn chilly. And the dogs steal the covers.

Clothing: if I need new clothing I will consider bamboo but it’s damned expensive. I was shopping for a second bathing suit recently because I’m at the beach often enough that I need a suit to wear while the other one is drying or waiting to be laundered free of all the salt and sand that didn’t wind up in my ass or under my tits. I always thought that sand-in-uncomfortable-places was a joke, I was very wrong. I spent two hours searching for bamboo or other plant-based sustainable fabric or recycled fabric and found nothing under a hundred bucks. Nothing. Not even a thong bikini (I already have sand up my ass, I don’t need material there as well). I’m not lounging instagrammatically on Waikiki, I’m swimming in 5+ foot surf every weekend at least, so I am not willing to pay that much for a suit intended for plenty of use and punishment. I got a bikini because it will be easier to discreetly rinse most of the sand away before going back up the beach, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

#hippie #eco friendly #zero waste

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mikauzoran · 4 years

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Marichat/Adrienette/Adrichat: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: Kiss Twenty-Three

Read it on AO3: Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses: ...as a lie.

Three-way calls were really difficult when you were two out of the three participants.

Adrien had learned this the hard way when, a week into dating both Chat and Adrien, Marinette had thought it a good idea for all three of them to talk. Regularly.

It was a headache.

He had to switch back and forth between Adrien’s phone and Chat Noir’s communicator, muting and unmuting the lines as he went so that there wasn’t an echo that would give him away.

It was kind of fun roleplaying both Chat Noir and Adrien, though, creating a relationship between them, coming up with pet names and inside jokes, deciding what their dynamic would be, how they interacted with one another.

Flirting with himself was a little awkward at first, but he was a good actor and quickly adapted to his dual roles.

The hardest part was making sure that the right guy responded on the correct phone line. It was such a pain when Adrien and Chat Noir had to talk to one another, and he was kind of worried that he was going to get busted because his voice sounded the same.

Little did Adrien know that three-way calls were only the beginning of his nightmare trip through the land of identity porn.

The three of them had been dating going on three weeks when, one night, Marinette had an idea: “We should hang out sometime. As a couple.”

Adrien blinked at his phones, debating whom he should make field that comment.

“Whom do you mean, Princess?” Chat Noir inquired.

“Haven’t both of us been spending pretty much time with you lately?” Adrien added.

Marinette chuckled as if she thought he were being silly. “Well, yeah. I meant…you know. The three of us.”

“The three of us,” Adrien repeated, brain stalling.

“Yeah. I mean, we are all three dating, so…I was thinking we should spend some time together as a couple.” She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Adrien had a thing about being fatally oblivious.

“Right,” Chat Noir laughed, managing to sound halfway normal and not like he was internally panicking. “Of course. That would be great. I’d love to have my two favourite people together at the same time.”

“Yeah,” Adrien chimed in, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Cuddling with the both of you would be epic. It might be a little hard to find time in our schedules, though. Chat Noir and I are both kind of overscheduled. We see each other mainly at night when we’re supposed to be asleep, but your parents’ ‘no boys in the bedroom after midnight’ rule would get in the way.”

“Pretty Boy and I will compare schedules and get back to you with possible dates,” Chat promised.

“Okay. Sounds like a plan,” Marinette agreed, the excitement painfully evident in her voice. “I’m really looking forward to this,” she giggled.

Adrien’s plan to not be able to find a date and time that worked immediately crumpled and burst into flames.

He was going to have to come up with some way to be in two places at once…or, rather, the same place twice, because he couldn’t disappoint his girlfriend.

“Sorry, guys. I’ve got to go feed Plagg. I’ll talk to you later?” Chat wrapped up the conversation early, too distracted to continue.

He worried he might slip and speak as Chat from Adrien’s phone or something while in his current state.

“That’s okay,” Adrien replied. “I actually have to go work on Chinese homework anyway. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you guys.”

“Love you both too,” Marinette responded, a big, warm smile still in her voice.

Adrien hung up, detransformed, and slumped back against his bathroom counter.

“You are so screwed,” Plagg snickered, phasing through the door out into the rest of Adrien’s room.

Adrien sighed. “Maybe, but I’m at least going to try.”

He would do anything to keep from letting his girlfriend down.

Chat Noir awkwardly cleared his throat.

Ladybug arched an eyebrow worriedly. “Is everything okay, Chaton? You said you had something urgent you needed to talk to me about?”

It had taken him a week to come up with this plan and convince himself to try to put it into action. Now, as he sat next to Ladybug on the roof of Sainte Chapelle, what had seemed like a genius, foolproof plan before was starting to feel ridiculous and untenable.

He took a deep inhale. “So…” he began but then chickened out, looking away.

“Chat Noir, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” she demanded.

“Are you still militantly against people finding out our identities?” he finally spit out.

She blinked then nodded. “Absolutely. We don’t know what lengths Papillon is willing to go to. It’s essential to keep our identities safe, Chat Noir. You can’t tell anyone, no matter how much you might trust them.”

He blew out a breath. “Okay. So, here’s the deal. My identity is on the verge of being discovered. If you don’t want that to happen, I have a plan I need your help with.”

She nodded eagerly. “Of course. I’m in. Just tell me what you need me to do, Chat Noir.”

“You’re not going to like it,” he cautioned.

Ladybug rolled her eyes. “I’ll get over it. I’m willing to do anything to keep you safe, so just tell me.”

“Someone is very close to figuring out my identity,” Chat reiterated. “It’s someone close to me, someone who knows both of me, and in order to throw them off, I need them to see both of me together.”

Ladybug nodded, remembering her trick with Multimouse. “And what’s your plan to make that happen?”

He gulped, looking her in the eye with a pleading expression. “I need to borrow the Fox Miraculous. Long term. I don’t know how long this will go on, but I might need to borrow Trixx for weeks or months even.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.

“I know. It’s dangerous to have the Miraculouses out in the world right now. Papillon could do a lot of damage with the Fox Miraculous in particular, but…you trust me don’t you?”

His eyes bored into hers, and she couldn’t respond. How could she argue when he played the trust card? Of course she trusted him. She trusted him with her life, her heart, her everything.

“I’ve kept Plagg safe all these years. I would keep Trixx safe too,” he pressed. “If we ever needed Rena Rouge for a fight, it would be just as easy for me to go give the Miraculous to Alya and collect it from her afterwards as it is for you to go get the Miraculous and give it to her. It would be faster even because I would already have the Fox Miraculous on me.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line of disapproval. She wanted to tell him why this was a horrible idea, but she couldn’t come up with an argument that held water.

Seeing her hesitation, he went in for the kill. “I mean, I trust you to keep all of the Miraculouses safe without question…maybe you could trust me to protect this one?”

Ladybug sighed sulkily, grumbling, “I don’t like this.”

“I told you you wouldn’t,” Chat snickered.

She shook her head, fixing him with an intent gaze. “Chat Noir, you know I trust you, right? This isn’t about trust.”

He nodded, a sympathetic smile curling up the edges of his lips. “It’s about you not liking to give up control.”

His words were like a physical blow, and she was struck by how right he was.

“I get that,” he continued gently. “Everything is always chaos around you, so you do everything you can to exercise control over everything that you can. I understand, My Lady. I really do. My girlfriend is like that too, and I get that it’s not about me…. So, it’s your call, Guardian.”

Ladybug tensed as she was forced to confront a truth about herself that she wasn’t sure she liked. Was she really that much of a control freak as both Marinette and Ladybug?

She took a long, slow inhale and blew it out. “Wait here,” she instructed, opening the interdimensional pocket inside her yoyo and pulling out the Horse Miraculous.

She slipped on the glasses, combined Kaalki with Tikki, and opened up a portal.

“I’ll be back with the Fox Miraculous in just a minute,” she assured with a smile.

Adrien took a week to test the bounds of how long he could sustain the Mirage and to practice coordinating his eight limbs. Once he felt like he had things under control, he scheduled a Saturday night date at Marinette’s with both Chat Noir and Adrien in attendance.

“Show time,” Chat whispered, back pressed against the little wall of chimneys abutting Marinette’s balcony. “Mirage.”

Adrien appeared, looking like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot in tight, tan corduroy pants and a wine-red cardigan that made the green of his eyes sizzle.

He looked at Chat Noir and shook his head, chuckling, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Chat gave a snort. “You and me both.”

“Anything to make our girlfriend happy.” Adrien shrugged helplessly.

Chat winced. “When she finds out, she’s going to be livid…and disgusted by how dumb we are.”

Adrien cringed. “I can just imagine her annoyed face as she flatly demands what we were thinking.”

“Oh well,” Chat sighed, scooping Adrien up into a bridal carry. “We’ll deal with that hurdle when we get there.”

Adrien held on tight, arms encircling Chat’s neck as the superhero jumped up and over the wall, doing a backflip into a ten-point landing on Marinette’s balcony railing.

Unfortunately, Chat’s tail nicked one of the flowerpots, sending it to its doom and getting dirt and azaleas all over Marinette’s balcony.

“Darn,” Adrien and Chat muttered in tandem.

Marinette’s head popped up through the skylight, and both boys smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry! It was an accident,” they explained in stereo.

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Trying to show off for your boyfriend, Minou?”

Chat gulped. “Sorry. He’s pretty, and I want him to think I’m cool. I’ll buy you new azaleas and a new pot too. A better pot.”

“Deal,” Marinette agreed with a grin that revealed how little the broken flowerpot bothered her. “I’ll clean it up tomorrow, so don’t worry about it. Hurry up and get down here.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Adrien snickered. “Let’s go.”

With a nod, Chat Noir followed their girlfriend down into her room and carefully deposited Adrien onto the bed.

“There you go, Pretty Boy. I trust your journey was pleasant,” Chat flirted, laying it on thick for Marinette’s sake as he nuzzled Adrien’s ear.

“I will never get tired of travelling by rooftop,” Adrien informed Marinette in exhilaration before turning to Chat Noir and smiling sweetly. “Thanks, Nyan-chan. You’re my hero.”

He leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Chat’s.

It had taken some practice to get the coordination down to be able to make out with himself (Plagg had teased mercilessly and laughed until he cried), but Adrien and Chat were now able to kiss seamlessly without any awkward bumping of heads, unintentionally bitten lips, or injured noses.

Marinette’s eyes widened.

Up until that point, she’d been a little jealous of how in sync Adrien and Chat seemed, but watching them kiss was… She could definitely watch them kiss for a substantial amount of time. Maybe it was a good thing that she’d agreed to share them with one another.

Chat and Adrien’s lips unlocked, and then Adrien was smiling lovingly at Marinette. “I think he deserves a reward. He rescued me from the tower where my evil stepmother was keeping me prisoner. Don’t rescuers usually get to live happily ever after with the princess?”

Marinette gave a half-snorted laugh. “Nathalie isn’t your stepmother, and it’s your father who’s keeping you locked up…. Are you the princess or is that me?” she added curiously.

Adrien’s innocent smile morphed into a cat-like smirk, and he reached out to pull her down on top of him. “Both of us,” he tittered against her skin before pressing his mouth to hers.

Chat Noir joined in, and soon they were a jumble of lips and limbs, rumpled clothing and tussled hair, love bites and swollen lips.

Twenty minutes later found them a breathless heap. Chat’s gloves, Marinette’s sweater, and Adrien’s cardigan had all been discarded, and the trio basked in the skin-on-skin warmth.

“This…was a great idea,” Marinette giggled, pulling her loose hair ties the rest of the way out and tossing them to the floor with their clothing items. “Group make-out sessions need to become a regular thing.”

“That could be arranged,” Chat Noir snickered, nuzzling and nipping at Marinette’s bare shoulder.

Adrien buried his face further into the crook of Marinette’s neck, giving her throat a kiss. “Anything to make you happy, Ohime-sama.”

Chat gave a snort. “You say that like she’s the only one enjoying this. You’re blissed out of your mind right now.”

“Because her fingers are magic,” Adrien moaned as Marinette continued rubbing gentle circles along his scalp. He was on the verge of purring his head off.

“I’m just happy that, for once, I’m not the only one getting worked up,” Marinette laughed, giving Chat Noir’s hair a pet too so that he wouldn’t feel left out.

Chat blinked, lifting his head to inspect the doppelgänger for signs of arousal. It was kind of hard to tell with Adrien’s pelvis pressed up against Marinette’s thigh, but…

In general, Chat was in direct control over the Mirage. It wasn’t like when Rena had used her powers to create insubstantial illusions. The Adrien Mirage was solid and took quite a bit more concentration to maintain. When Chat’s focus wavered (like when he was distracted by making out with his amazing girlfriend), the Mirage continued to operate on its own, sometimes in ways that Chat didn’t necessarily intend…like, apparently, by getting hard.

“Oh?” Adrien hummed, giving Marinette’s neck a lick. “You like it when I go to pieces?”

“Exceedingly so,” she giggled, pressing against him and, inadvertently, away from Chat.

Chat who was suddenly feeling insecure because he was very much not hard, and this was going to be a huge issue in their relationship.

He watched as Marinette and Adrien kissed and wondered if he could keep her happy with the Mirage. If he couldn’t meet her needs himself, maybe she’d work with him. Maybe it would be enough that he loved her. Maybe he would be enough and she wouldn’t leave him for a man who could make love to her as often as she wanted.

Suddenly, Marinette was kissing him, fingers snaking through his hair and massaging his cat ears. “What are you thinking about, Minou?” she whispered against his lips.

“That I can’t make you happy. That this isn’t going to work. That I’m going to lose you and it’s going to kill me.”

“That I’m not good enough,” he replied in a small, scared voice.

“My Love,” she cooed, eyes dark and full of desire. “No. Not at all.” She sighed and shook her head. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do. I wish you could see how amazing you are.”

He smiled sadly. “Sorry. Self-esteem issues.”

“I can relate,” Adrien hummed, carefully climbing over Marinette and Chat to snuggle up against Chat Noir’s other side.

This was a little surprising because Chat hadn’t told the Mirage to do that.

Still, it was nice to have another warm body at his back, wrapping his arms around Chat protectively.

“It’s okay, Minou,” Marinette soothed, lightly caressing his cheek. “Let us love on you, and we’ll see if you feel better afterwards.”

“What if I don’t?” Chat laughed a little as Marinette’s lips tickled his throat.

“Then we’ll love on you until you do,” Adrien informed with a mischievous smirk, tugging down Chat’s bell to unzip the suit and gain access to more real estate.

As he let his eyes slip closed and lost himself in the blur of lips and hands, Chat noted that the warmth and weight of another body against his really was incredibly comforting. It might be beneficial to bring out his doppelgänger to snuggle after a rough day when Adrien needed a hug more than anything but couldn’t escape to seek solace in his friends or girlfriend.

“Feeling better?” Marinette giggled once some time had passed and their kisses grew languid.

“Actually, yes,” Chat purred, giving Marinette’s jaw a fond nip.

“Don’t move,” Adrien pouted against the skin of Chat’s back between his shoulder blades. “I’m not done marking you with my initials.”

Chat’s eyes suddenly flew wide. “Oh, crap. Marks!” he squeaked.

Marinette arched an eyebrow. “What about them? I don’t think they’ll give your identity away; lots of people have hickeys, and the ones we left on you aren’t particularly unique. I mean, besides Adrien’s initials, so maybe don’t go around taking your shirt off, but…”

“No,” Chat groaned turning to Adrien (ruining his masterpiece). “Photoshoots.”

Adrien’s lips rounded into an “o” of understanding. “Shoot. I guess this is what concealer is for?”

Chat clicked his tongue. “Yeah, and you’re going to need a bucket full of the stuff. Your father is going to kill you.”

“Not if my superhero boyfriend saves me.” Adrien smiled innocently, playfully batting his eyelashes.

Chat rolled his eyes with a grimace. “Your superhero boyfriend is going to be busy being murdered by his own controlling father.”

Adrien bit his lip. “So…I guess it’s up to Marinette to save us.”

Chat smirked. “I think we’re in good hands.”

“Not at the moment,” Marinette snorted, rolling onto her back. “I don’t expect my beautiful ace boys to understand, but making out with smoking hot guys is thirsty work, so I wouldn’t trust me with any part of you, least of all your virtue, right now.”

Adrien quirked an eyebrow. “…Is ‘thirsty’ a euphemism?”

Chat shrugged. “I think so, but keep in mind that I’m a sheltered baby too.”

Marinette sat up, shaking her head. “Oh, my sweet dorks. Yes. …Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go refresh myself.” She paused and looked at them tentatively. “…Unless you guys feel comfortable going a little further tonight?”

Adrien and Chat turned to look at one another, a flicker of horrified panic shooting across their faces before they could get their emotions under control enough to put on identical people-pleasing smiles.

Adrien nodded as Chat replied, “Sure. If you want to. I mean, we’d be happy to try, if that would make you happy.”

Marinette’s tentative expression scrunched up into a scrutinizing frown. “Guys. Don’t. Seriously.”

The boys blinked in tandem, sharing a look before turning back to Marinette in confusion.

“Don’t…what?” Adrien inquired cautiously, afraid that he’d messed up and ruined everything.

She shook her head, reaching out to cup Chat’s cheek with her left hand and Adrien’s with her right. She took turns looking them each in the eye. “Don’t ever force yourselves to do something you’re not comfortable with. Please, please, please. I know you guys think it’ll make me happy, but it won’t. If I find out later that you pushed yourselves for my sake, I’m going to feel awful.”

“Oh,” they breathed in sync, shoulders slumping.

“I need to be able to trust you two when you say you’re okay with doing stuff,” she explained patiently, leaning in to give them both a bolstering kiss. “Just tell me the truth. I promise I won’t get mad if you’re not comfortable doing something.”

“Okay,” Adrien agreed as Chat nodded in accord. “Sorry. We—”

“—It’s okay,” Marinette cut him off. “No apologies necessary. I get it. You two meant well, but…”

“…Okay,” Chat sighed, resigning himself to being as honest as possible…and losing her because of it.

Marinette pinched his cat ear. “No feeling bad about yourselves. You’re not disappointing me or not good enough or whatever other negative thoughts are going through your heads.” She gave Adrien a pointed look. “I love you both, and I want to make this work just like I know you guys want to make this work. We’re just going to have to be patient with each other and ourselves, okay?”

“Okay,” they chorused, smiling tentatively.

She leaned in to kiss each of them. “Those are my boys.”

“That’s our girl,” they chuckled in return, Chat nuzzling her ear while Adrien leaned across Chat to kiss Marinette’s nose.

“Thank you,” Chat whispered breathily, touched at her willingness to put her own needs aside for his.

“Of course,” she stressed. “I love you two.”

“And we love you,” Adrien replied, and Chat nodded vehemently. “It means a lot that you’re backing up your words with actions.”

Chat smiled wistfully. “We get told that people love us a lot, but you’re one of the only ones who’s proven it.”

“My boys,” Marinette whispered, a deep sadness in her tone. She wrapped an arm around each and pulled them into a tight hug. “I don’t know that I’ve done a good job of proving it. I feel like I have so much to make up to the both of you…but I’m trying.”

“We appreciate it,” Adrien assured.

They slowly separated, burgeoning smiles on their lips at the sense of serenity surrounding them.

“Okay,” Marinette sighed. “I’ll be in the bathroom just off the kitchen freshening up. I’ll be back in, like, ten minutes, so don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t knock things off ledges or terrorize your yarn collection,” Adrien promised.

Chat gave his double a solid fwap on the arm. “And I’ll make sure he doesn’t take his clothes off and start posing on anything.”

Adrien gave Chat a dirty look. “I don’t even like modeling.”

“And I don’t like destroying everything I touch,” Chat snapped back.

“Okay. Time out,” Marinette decreed, making a T with her hands. “Why don’t you two just continue making out while I’m gone, and then, when I get back, we can snuggle and watch a movie?”

Adrien and Chat shared a look before answering, “Deal,” in sync.

As soon as he heard the bathroom door on the floor below close behind Marinette, Chat Noir let the transformation drop.

Adrien slumped back against Marinette’s giant cat pillow and sighed.

“I’m exhausted,” he muttered, fishing out two carrot sticks for Trixx and a hunk of Camembert for Plagg, despite the fact that Trixx was the only one doing any work.

“Mentally or physically exhausted?” Plagg snickered. “Making out looks strenuous. Or were you talking about the mental effort of convincing your girlfriend that you’re two different people?”

“Both,” Adrien groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “Leave me alone. I’m just trying to make the woman I love happy.”

“You should tell her the truth,” Trixx advised neutrally as he munched on his carrots. “I mean, I understand why you haven’t, but…this is more than a little bit ridiculous.”

“If Tikki were here, she’d scold you for using the Fox Miraculous for personal gain,” Plagg added in amusement, as if he knew something Adrien didn’t.

“Is it really personal gain when I’d rather reveal my identity to my girlfriend and go on dates like other couples?” Adrien grumbled sullenly.

“He has a point,” Trixx allowed with a shrug. “This charade is only prolonging his suffering.”

Plagg looked at his tired kitten, and the amusement left his eyes. “…The fox has a point, Kid. Maybe you need to tell her before this goes on much longer.”

Adrien shrugged. “She refuses to know my identity, and she’s got valid reasons. Knowing very well could put her and the people she loves in danger. She’s afraid, and she has every right to be. This secret is a huge burden, and I can’t just force it upon her against her will just because it will make my life easier. How selfish would it be of me to do that to her?”

The kwamis fell silent.

When Marinette returned, Adrien and Chat Noir had straightened their clothing and were cuddled up together on top of the covers, Chat purring softly as Adrien petted his hair.

Marinette grabbed her laptop and joined them, and they all snuggled up to watch Porco Rosso.

The next Saturday, Adrien, Chat, and Marinette met for making out, Chinese food, and video games.

Somehow, Adrien neglected to factor in Adrien and Chat Noir having to play against one another, so video games were a bit of a clown fiesta. Marinette had fun laughing and making fun of how bad and uncoordinated Chat and Adrien were, though, so that was a plus.

The boys even joined in the laughter when Marinette cackled so hard that she rolled off the couch and landed roughly on the floor.

The resulting crash brought Sabine up to check on them, and when she caught sight of Adrien and Chat Noir together on the couch, she blinked rapidly, rubbed her eyes, and gawked.

Adrien and Chat grimaced, waving to their (hopefully) future mother-in-law and greeting her in Mandarin.

“How are there two of you?” she returned bluntly, confirming that, yes, Sabine did know.

Marinette stopped laughing and sat up to look interrogatively back and forth between her mother and her boyfriends.

She understood the demanding tone and the fact that Sabine had asked a question, even though she didn’t understand all of the words. She guessed that her mother had asked what the two of them were doing there and answered in French, “Maman, I told you I was having friends over. You said it was okay.”

“It is, Sweetie,” Sabine assured with a warm smile. “I just didn’t know it was Chat Noir and Adrien you had invited.”

“I can explain,” Adrien quickly replied in Mandarin, making Marinette frown.

“It’s magic,” Chat joined in. “I swear this is necessary to protect my identity.”

“It’s complicated,” Adrien sighed. “Please, please, please don’t say anything.”

Sabine pursed her lips but eventually nodded. “All right,” she responded in French. “You kids have fun. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

As her mother left, Marinette’s frown intensified. “I need to learn Chinese. What were you talking about?”

“Uuuuhhh…” Chat’s brain stalled out.

“Your mother was making sure our intentions were noble,” Adrien jumped in.

Chat really hated the moments when he lost control of the Mirage’s mouth.

“Her daughter’s alone with a leather-clad catboy and a male supermodel; any mother would be concerned,” Adrien explained in a tone approximating that of a reasonable person, thus cementing Chat’s desire to smoother his doppelgänger with the Dupain-Chengs’ tastefully-designed couch cushions.

Marinette burst out laughing again. “Right,” she snorted. “Maybe any mother who didn’t personally know you two dorks.”

Chat turned to Adrien with a hurt pout. “She doesn’t think we’re a threat.”

Adrien smirked. “She will regret underestimating us when we pin her down and tickle her.”

A wide grin slowly took form on Chat’s face. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”

“Okay!” Marinette sprang to her feet and retreated to the kitchen. “Well, now that that’s settled, why don’t I get a start on those maraschino cherry sugar cookies while you two keep sucking at video games?”

Adrien and Chat Noir stared at Marinette. Slowly, their heads turned, and they shared a look.

“I mean…cookies,” Chat whispered.

Adrien nodded. “We can always pin her down and tickle her later. Cookies are more important.”

Chadrien turned back to Marinette with twin grins and chorused, “Sounds good!”

Marinette’s brow gradually scrunched into a frown of suspicion. “You guys aren’t…like…related or something, are you? I promise I’m not going to judge your incestuous queerplatonic relationship or anything.”

The boys laughed nervously.

“I mean…I already told you about my brother Félix,” Adrien reminded. “Don’t you think having more than one secret brother is a little much?”

“Obviously, we’re the same person,” Chat added jovially, very much wanting the lying to be over with already.

Marinette’s eyes narrowed, her brow crinkling as she really looked at them for a minute.

Adrichat held their breath.

For a second, he really thought she was going to call him on it…but then the moment passed, the look of suspicion faded, and she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“You two are ridiculous,” she snorted. “Fine. Don’t tell me you’re secretly cousins or whatever. I’ll find out someday after Papillon is defeated. Go back to self-destructing at Ultimate Mecha Strike.”

Adrien and Chat sighed in unison, turning back around on the couch to resume their doomed game.

In their defence, it was really hard to keep straight which set of fingers controlled which mech on screen. This was made even harder by the fact that Chat and Adrien had the same favourite character—a fact that Marinette knew from having played with both of them separately in the past.

Add in the fact that he had to strategize for both combatants at the same time…it was like playing chess against yourself. He knew what he was going to do ahead of time, rendering his strategy useless because his opponent was literally inside his head. It went by too fast. He needed to go home and practice just like he’d done with making out. He’d get it eventually, but, as things presently stood, playing against himself took the entirety of his concentration.

Therefore, it was quite understandable that when Marinette asked, “Adrien, how many cookies do you want with cherries, and how many should I make snickerdoodle?” Chat Noir answered, “Um…maybe three of each?”

There was a beat, and then it struck Chat that he’d made a mistake. He turned to look at Marinette who was blinking at him in mild confusion.

Adrien winced and put a comforting hand on Chat’s arm. “I think she meant me.”

Chat bit his tongue to keep from saying, “Thank you, Captain Obvious”.

“Wait,” Marinette breathed. “No way.”

Chat braced for impact.

“You’re both named Adrien?” Marinette gasped.

He wanted to cry.

Adrien laughed unconvincingly. “What? No,” he denied in a manner that clearly indicated he was lying. “I mean…how ridiculous would that be?”

Chat really wanted to smoother his double just to put them all out of their misery.

“I can’t believe this,” Marinette laughed a tad hysterically, struggling to process her new reality. “What are the odds of falling in love with two guys named Adrien?!”

“Not as good as you think,” Adrichat muttered under their breath.

That evening, Adrien collapsed onto his bed feeling tired and resigned.

Plagg and Trixx looked on in pity.

#Marichat #Adrinette #Adrienette #Adrichat #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Plagg #Trixx #Ladybug #Kissing #Writing Prompts #Mikau's Writings #Serendipity: Fifty Marichat and Adrienette Kisses

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latefrequencies · 3 years

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it all comes around to a handful of things I suppose.....Joy Division and Withnail and I. i pair those things really strongly in my mind. stronger than makes sense. i mean I don’t know the reason for it, I loved them both very very much during the exact same time. I was 19 and I promised not to kill myself until age 24 because Ian Curtis killed himself when he was 23 and I wanted to make it to 24 because he didn’t get to. I don’t even know why. It wasn’t even especially about him because I wasn’t. really? that interested in him as a person? When I say I had An Ian Curtis Thing it sounds like I was obsessed with him, but it really wasn’t like that, it was more about the music. I suppose I was making a promise to the mind behind the music. To the origin of the music. To the origin of what I loved. To the origin of this thing I loved very much and in which I was very emotionally invested and which kept me very together a great amount of the time.

I am of course talking about Joy Division and not about Withnail and I. the culture surrounding that film is strange. I’m calling it strange because I can’t think of a better word for it. I saw people heavily caught up in the culture of that film and I’ve seen things end less than ideally for them. I was caught up in it but I got out of it okay but I think that’s because I was trying VERY hard not to have my benzo use become too much of a habit (and the things I was hurting myself with at the time, the pills I was taking as self harm, they were not psychoactive, I may have had some with DPH in it not knowing that’s what it was at the time and perhaps some things could be explained by that. anyway though whenever I talked about pills I was talking about things I was trying to fuck my liver with for the fuck of it.) Anyway it’s strange. It’s strange that I only developed serious substance habits the further I found myself emotionally from that film. If I could make an X and Y axis chart of “amount of emotional investment in Withnail and I” and “intensity of drug habit”, you’d find a negative correlation between the two. VERY strange. perhaps I’m really the strangest thing of all.

There’s that thing in Withnail and I where Marwood gets the haircut and it’s like a Very Important Moment, he’s not the guy he was at the start of this whole thing and he’s got the hair to prove it. During the time Sebastian Blake Stott was most into Withnail and I, during that time he’d point out to me that my hair looked like Marwood’s and he’d say I was the Withnail to his Marwood and it was very true, both things were. And then three or so years later I found a bottle of hair dye at the pharmacy while getting the prescription pills to which I’d become so very addicted and I took it home and I tried dyeing my hair teal and it was a disaster at first but I got the hang of it and I’ve never really gone back. There’s never been a time since then that my hair’s been fully unbleached or undyed. The possibility for Marwood hair was gone.

Four weeks after Sebastian died was when I got out of my abusive then-home, after he couldn’t get out of his. He had something he had wanted to tell me a few days before his death and it seemed like he meant to tell me of something positive, he seemed excited, but what it was I couldn’t have guessed. His partner at the time said that he’d confided that he thought there was no hope of recovery for him, and I wonder if he’d wanted to have told me the same. Was that what he was excited to tell me? Why the “Jude!!! There’s something I need to tell you, can you get on Skype right now???” for such a bleak announcement? Why was he like that? But a week or so later he died and I released a playlist on 8tracks based on Vyvian Withnail, the character whose first name I had taken as my middle name at the time as an homage - can’t even explain fully what to anymore other than perhaps You Know, Him - said something about wishing Seb’s ghost could hear it someplace. I don’t remember if I put a Joy Division song on there. I know I did for the Marwood playlist. I don’t know if Withnail got his own Joy Division song. Sebastian and I were both twenty when he died. A few months after his passing, I turned twenty-one. I didn’t drink that year.

Three years later impulse-buying hair dye wasn’t the actual end of my Marwood hair. That was when I got a haircut after leaving my father’s place, and it was going to be the same haircut I got each time after that, keeping it longer in the front and shorter in the back as opposed to having it the same length pretty much everywhere before. It could still MAYBE be re-Marwoodized. It wasn’t too terribly different. I could just let it grow back if I wanted, go through an awkward-looking phase, and either bring an old picture of myself or cut it myself based on the same, depending on whether this was “before I started doing my own hair” or “after I realized you don’t need to pay for haircuts”. The hair dye was just the part that sealed it, made sure the possibility really was gone.

For whatever unholy fucking reason, there are a large number of articles about Sebastian, deadnaming him and giving the narrative of his death that his mother wanted the world to hear. Don’t look them up but I suppose I can’t stop you. If they can say that publicly, I suspect it’s fine of me to say all of this. It’s barely anything I haven’t said before anyway.

It was a year ago that, age 25, I was at a local new wave tribute band show, a sentence that’s perhaps quite different from anything I’ve said thus far but was just what my life was like then. It was on June 21, a thing I only know because I remembered someone mentioning in passing that this happened to be the longest day of the year. I’d been looking forward to it all year because there was a Joy Division tribute band and I think I had both a patch AND a pin of Joy Division on the jacket I’d made a year prior that I now wore to everything. It was exciting and everyone knew it was exciting because it was Joy Division, it was songs I hadn’t thought I’d ever hear performed live ever. I went sober, something I’d found was a more fun way to enjoy your life music, the Joy Division band went on first. The singer’s impression of Ian Curtis’s dancing was accurate and tasteful and I was surprised when I spoke to him after the show and found out he’d only been with them for the past two weeks.

“I was really excited to hear you guys do that music because I’ve loved Joy Division for a very long time,” I told the guy, and eventually it turned to the significance of the music for me, how when I was 19, I said I’d wait to die til 24, because this man had killed himself at 23, and now here I was at 25, and the guy had something of a “holy shit” look on his face at some point. I don’t remember the exact detail, maybe it was how young I was (the attendees of those shows tended to be at least a decade my senior), how young I was when I so wanted to die, how young I still was now, how young it made Ian Curtis when he did it, how young anyone can be, how young I am now still wanting to do it every so often because no matter what’s right in my life I can somehow never be rid of what’s wrong. In a weird way I think he felt validation. He mentioned again he’d been fearing he’d fuck up the show but no he was getting a response like this, he had no cause to doubt his performance. I never saw his band again, but I heard of some show performed on I think it was the birthday of someone from the scene who’d since passed, in honor of that person, and Joy Revision was on the bill. I bet the band did well.

#this has been a self related post #oh god why did i write this.........#this is. embarassingly soul-baring.#i talk about most of the serious things that have happened. idk. i feel i got to oliterary talking #suicide /#self harm /#substance abuse /#addiction /#abuse mention /#god i think that's it?#please if you read tih post. can you interact.#and if there is anything you want to say. that is okay too.

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ecto-american · 4 years

Text

Photo Finish

For the Phic Phight, for @axoltheaxolotlqueen

Summary: Engaged to be married, Danny and Sam sort through some old photos for the wedding slideshow. D/S TransDanny and TransSam

On FFN and AO3

Rating: T for boob mention

Inspiration: Phic Phight

Pairings: Danny/Sam

Warnings: Some mild sad

Other Notes: For Axol, who requested "Trans!Danny fluff" and also Tucker is genderfluid in this bc I said so. Also x2: this is lowkey for trans visibility day, but UhhhHH couldn't post it yesterday on the actual day since it's for phic phight lol

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"God, you looked like such a dork," Sam teased him. Danny turned to see what his fiancée was referencing.

It was a photo of them, on their first official date, to homecoming their freshman year. He was still pretty lanky and scrawny then, his hair still at an odd, shaggy length but still gelled for the occasion. The suit fit him a tad awkwardly, but he still remembered the excitement of wearing one for the first time. God, he was so proud then, but now it was just embarrassing to see.

Sam on the other hand, seemed to never have that awkward phase, and she didn't have a hint of it then. In a dark purple and black dress, heels, she stood taller than him with long hair that was curled. She looked stunning, makeup already perfected.

The photo in question was picked out and set aside on the table Sam sat at in their apartment. Four boxes of photos, open and being sorted through for photos to be sent to Tucker, so he could put the powerpoint together.

"Hey, I was like, thirteen," he defended himself, and he reached over to try to take it out of the pile, but Sam slapped his hand.

"No!" she scowled. "I want that for the wedding slideshow Tucker's making."

"You can't pick anything where I look less dorky?" he complained. Sam grinned, shifting through more photos.

"Oh, is that a challenge?" she asked. Danny narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't you dare," he threatened. Sam's grin only widened, and she looked faster before pulling a photo out. Danny leaned across the dining room table for her, only for her to lean back into the couch and holding the photo out of reach. "SAM!"

"Come on, it's funny!" she replied.

She turned to show him the photo, of Danny waving around his binder in one hand, a margarita in the other. It was the backstory that made it funny to her. Danny, drunk as a skunk, was forced to take his binder off by his girlfriend. If he didn't then, he would never do it later and risk getting hurt. He spent the remaining hour he was allowed to roam free showing it to people, saying that his tits were freed from prison but that they were scheduled to be executed soon.

"Sam, your grandma's gonna be at the wedding, you really want her to see?" he protested. Sam snorted.

"Ida's seen it, she thinks it's funny," Sam gave a wicked smile.

"SAM!"

"Oh, Danny," Sam cooed, changing the subject. She pulled another photo from the pile out to show him. "This is one of my favorite pictures, we have to include this."

Danny glanced at it, and his heart instantly melted. He slipped into the seat across from her to take the photo, staring at it. By random chance, their surgeries were on the same day. Sam having breast implants, and Danny having his top surgery. It started a joke that Danny was giving his tits to her, or that Sam was stealing Danny's for herself, and the hospital had allowed for the two to share a room. It was against policy of course, but it hadn't stopped Sam from sneaking out of her bed to slip into Danny's. The couple were cuddled the best they could and napped from an exhausting day when Tucker had taken the photo for them.

"Mine too," he replied softly. "Tucker was the best." The techno geek, the couple could never thank their best friend enough for it, spend nearly two weeks taking care of the two and helping them out. "Okay, but if we have that, we need to also have like, the one of Tucker helping me."

Sam burst into giggles as she watched Danny look for it, eventually producing the image. Ida had taken it, finding the situation hilarious. Danny was nervous as hell about proposing to Sam. And Tucker, man they were such a bro, had volunteered to let Danny practice on them. Tucker had dramatic tears, hands on their cheeks in a fake scream of joy with Danny on one knee, trying to keep from rolling his eyes as he practiced the big question.

"Absolutely," she agreed with a sigh. "We have a lot of time we can fill, especially since we're not doing baby photos."

Ugh, absolutely not. There was no way Danny was going to show the extensive list of guests photos of him as little baby [redacted] Fenton, in a dress or skirts. Nor was Sam interested in having photos be shown of baby [redacted] Manson in a dorky sailor suit, as per rich person family tradition.

"We can do our graduation photos, like college," Danny suggested.

"Oh, absolutely. I looked so great in that, I finally had actual hips," Sam agreed immediately.

"Same, my beard was finally growing in," Danny nodded. He finally found it, and he took it out the photos for them to both look at.

Danny and Tucker had graduated together, their diplomas held in computer science, Danny, with a full beard, in mechanical engineering. Sam still stood with them, but in a dark purple dress and her famous black bat purse. Sam had graduated a year after them due to her double major in business and animal science, both of which she held proudly in her photo with Tucker and Danny in nice suits, on either side of her. By Sam's graduation, Danny had finally given in and shaved, staying clean shaven ever since. Nobody told him having a beard was going to be so much work. Who knew you still had to trim and shave certain areas lest you began looking like a crazed mountain man? Maybe one day he'll try again, but for his wedding, he was going to be facial hair free.

"Can you believe it's just two months away?" Danny asked, mostly wondering aloud to himself.

"No," Sam confessed. Her attention was on a photo she had found. Danny immediately knew based on her expression that it was a childhood photo. "...Honestly I'm still surprised sometimes that I made it this far."

He gave a nod of understanding, his throat tightening. They were the lucky ones. They had families that loved and supported them from the start. But even then there was always that horrible gnawing feeling, that loathing of the time you lost. The crippling self doubt after the mandatory therapy and evaluations of doctors. There were times he was surprised he made it this far too.

"...Yeah," was all he could think to say.

His hand moved across the table, and Sam's had immediately met him halfway. Their fingers interlaced, and they remained silent, mourning briefly the lives they could have had if things were different. Of course, they were happy now. But sometimes…

He cleared his throat with a small cough. Things were the way they were. The past didn't matter. He was here now, presenting as he wished, and he had built a life worth living. It was still more than the hundreds of thousands of people could ever imagine having.

"But I'm glad I'm here with you now," Danny told her. She looked to him with a warm smile, and he knew she had the same thoughts as him. The circumstances were not ideal, but both of them had made the best of it.

"I love you," she spoke softly before lightly tapping her thumb against his hand. "I think I'm gonna make some pasta. Want some?"

"I would love some pasta, Mrs. Fenton."

The term made her visibly brighten more, and with a quick peck, she got up to make lunch.

#phics #my phics #phic phight #danny fenton #sam manson #transdanny #transsam

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tellmevarric · 5 years

Note

Ooh good luck with writing! For a prompt, maybe WinterIron with bedsharing? Maybe one of them is injured as well?

This was a fun prompt, @jarvisstarkismycopilot , and it kind of got away from me. It also exists in a world where Steve didn’t keep secrets that weren’t his to keep and Natasha is actually a good bro. So more or less ignores everything after CAWS.

If anyone else wants to prompt me, you can find my post about it here.

Also, where’s my damn line gone, tumblr. Here have a fake line.

_______________________________________________________________

Tony loved being Iron Man. He’d be the first to admitthat and probably also the last and every part of the middle as well. He loved being Iron Man. Not for theadulation or the cool factor but because he finally, for the first time in hislife, actually felt like he was achieving something worthwhile. Like he wasmore than the Merchant of Death or Howard’s son or whatever else people thoughtof him. He didn’t even really care about the moniker of hero, he just likedfeeling like he was doing something rightfor once.

That wasn’t to say that being Iron Man wasn’t painful attimes. On the ‘good’ days, that pain was just metaphysical. The pain of notgetting there in time, of not being fast enough or good enough or just enoughin general. But on the bad days, there was some physical pain involved. Usuallynothing too serious, just some bruises and contusion, easily taken care of andrelatively quick to heal. And on thereally shit, I-should-have-just-stayed-in-bed days, there was… this.

“Ow,” he muttered as Barnes yanked another piece of thearmour clear of his body.

“Sorry,” Barnes said with a grimace. “Some of this isreally bent out of shape.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tony replied, leaning back against thewall as Barnes reached for another part of the armour. “’M just being a baby.”

Barnes flicked him a glance that he couldn’t quitedecipher and went back to working on the armour. Tony didn’t blame him for notsaying anything. He and Barnes had a weird sort of relationship. When Steve hadcome to him after the debacle in DC looking like a Labrador that had beenkicked a few times, Tony had been worried. A little pissed off too because theycouldn’t have called? He’d have helped!

But that wasn’t what it had been about. It had been somuch worse. Steve had told him about the HYDRA hit, that his parents hadn’tdied in a car accident caused by Howard’s drunk driving but had beenassassinated by HYDRA using the Winter Soldier, their feared and infamousassassin… and Steve’s long lost BFF.

Tony doesn’t know what would have happened if Natashahadn’t been there, if she hadn’t had the sense to make sure Rhodey and Pepperwere on their way. He’d probably have done something stupid. Maybe Rogers wouldhave done something stupid as well. Lots of stupidity all round. Instead, Nat had been there, wrapping her arms aroundhis waist and murmuring soothing things into his ear as Steve backed off,looking both worried and distraught in a way that just made him look even morelike a kicked Labrador.

Things had been weird after that. Rhodey and Pepper hadstopped him from doing anything stupid and Tony had slowly – and with a lot ofresearch and digging into various files on the internet and elsewhere – piecedtogether what had happened and what been done to Barnes. Any anger orresentment he might have had for Barnes evaporated at that point. What he’dgone through in Afghanistan had been bad but it had only lasted three months.Barnes had gone through seventy years of hell and hadn’t even been in his rightmind for most of it.

So when Steve and Sam had brought a cowed and desolateBarnes in from the cold, Tony had… helped. From afar. He might haverationalised everything Barnes had been through but he hadn’t wanted much to dowith the man at first. It had taken Steve gently ushering Barnes down to hislab on afternoon because of problems with his arm before they’d actually metface to face. That meeting had killed whatever was left of his negativeemotions regarding Barnes. The man had just looked so damn defeated, as though he was just waiting for Tony to kick him out –or perhaps even kick him in the head, that Tony had folded like a deck ofcards.

But despite all of that, they still had a weirdrelationship. Barnes always seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop andTony honestly didn’t know what to say to the man. So anytime they were alonetogether, they just seemed to settle into the world of awkward. Not that Tonydidn’t like the man. He did. Hints of Bucky’s true personality snuck throughfrom time to time and what he’d seen, he liked. But it didn’t come often andTony didn’t know how to change that.

Tony gave a grunt as the last of the leg pieces of thearmour came free and then winced as he looked down at the damage to his leg.There was a long gash running the length of his left thigh from just below hiship all the way down to his knee that had been caused by the armour bowinginwards. It had split the undersuit but thankfully not enough to leave himhanging in the breeze, so to speak. The gash itself wasn’t deep but it wasstill oozing blood and every time Tony tried to move his leg, it sent a stab ofpain through him.

“Well, that sucks,” he said grimly.

Barnes was peering at the wound with something that mighthave been professional interest. “Gonna need stitches,” he murmured. “Butyou’ll have to settle for wrapping it for now.”

Tony grimaced. The mission had been a shitshow from startto finish. He and Barnes had been separated from the others during the courseof it and while that normally wouldn’t have been a problem, Tony’s suit wastrashed and he was effectively grounded. Once again, that normally wouldn’thave been an issue but Nat and Sam had been badly hurt. Badly enough that Stevehad had no choice but to leave them behind while he flew the other two back tobase since neither Thor nor Bruce had been available for the mission. No onehad been happy about that but there had been an old SHIELD safe house not faraway that Tony and Barnes had been able to get to so Steve had bowed tonecessity and gotten the others home.

Unfortunately, it was going to be at least another twelvehours before he could return due to various factors that Tony honestly hadn’tbeen paying attention to. He’d been hurting more than he’d wanted to admit atthe time and his entire concentration had been on putting one foot in front ofthe other.

“Do what you gotta do,” he said with a stifled yawn. Hewas exhausted. Not just from the injury and the blood loss but before thebattle he’d been down in his workshop and he was pretty sure he hadn’t sleptfor at least a day.

He watched as Barnes rummaged around in the first aid kitthey’d found in the safe house. He had to admit that SHIELD put together somepretty comprehensive kits, though he had a few questions about some of the things they’d found in there. Not goodquestions either.

Barnes was surprisingly gentle as he wrapped Tony’s legin the bandages he’d found and as a result, Tony managed not to make any lewdcomments while Barnes’ hands were so close to his crotch. The wrapping was justin the sweet spot of being tight enough for the purpose and being too tight forcomfort and Tony grimaced again and shifted slightly.

“Too tight?” Barnes asked immediately.

Tony shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Just… it’s going tobe damn awkward to do anything.”

“I can do it for you,” Barnes said with a small frown.

Tony snorted and looked amused. “That’s a nice thoughtbut unless HYDRA got really freaky with their experimentation, I don’t thinkyou can pee for me.”

Barnes went utterly still for a moment then he abruptlyrelaxed and smiled. It made Tony realise that he hadn’t ever really seen Barnessmile properly. It was a good look on him.

And that thought just made Tony want to bang his headagainst something. He’d been studiously ignoring the fact that once Barnescleaned up from his murder hobo phase, he looked like just about every wetdream Tony had ever had as an adolescent discovering that it wasn’t just girlswho did it for him and that one Sergeant Barnes from the Howling Commandosreally hit the spot.

“Yeah… um… no,” Barnes said with a wry smile.

“I made it awkward, didn’t I?” Tony said with a grin. “Ido that.”

Barnes smiled again. “Yeah, a little.”

Tony snickered. “And just to make it even more awkward, Iactually do need to pee now.”

At that, Barnes actually laughed and clambered to hisfeet. He then reached out and helped Tony stand. Tony hissed as the movementjarred his leg and he tried to keep his injured leg as still as possible. Fromthe sudden grim look on Barnes’ face, he probably hadn’t succeeded but hedidn’t look down to see if there was blood showing on the bandages. There wasno point. If there was, there was. There was nothing he could do about it.

With Barnes’ help, he hopped over to the bathroom. Hewaved Barnes away then and after an awkward moment of nearly falling, hemanaged to balance himself against the wall and pee. He flushed the toilet thena quick pivot had him in front of the sink. He washed his hands and only thendid he raise his head to look at himself in the mirror. He winced at the sight.The leg was the worst of his injuries but he’d gotten banged up pretty goodduring the fight and there were bruises and small cuts and contusion dottinghis face. He knew if he raised his shirt, he’d see more of the same on historso so he refrained from doing that. He stared at himself in the mirror for amoment longer then sighed and turned away.

“I’m done,” he called out, knowing that he’d done aboutas much as he could on one leg.

The door opened almost immediately and Tony raised aneyebrow but kept the comment he’d been about to make to himself. It would havebeen snide and Barnes didn’t deserve that.

“How about the bed?” Barnes said as he slipped an arm aroundTony and helped him hop back into the main room. “You’d be better off lyingdown.”

“I do that I’m going to fall asleep,” Tony grumbled.

“S’okay,” Barnes said diffidently. “Not much else to dohere.”

Tony grumbled under his breath but couldn’t refute that.Plus he was also tired and as much as he hated admitting a weakness, he knew heneeded to sleep.

“Where are you going to sleep?” he said, refusing toentirely concede the point.

“Floor,” Barnes said with a shrug.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I’m going to beout like a light as soon as my body realises it’s horizontal. Sleep in the bed.I’m not going to care, Barnes.”

He didn’t see Barnes’ reaction since they’d reached thebed by that stage and Barnes was helping him lie down.

“Bucky.”

Tony blinked. “Huh?”

“M’name,” Bucky said. “It’s Bucky.”

Tony gave him a long, slightly amused look. “That makesme feel like I’m at a rodeo, Frosty Freeze.”

A smile flickered across Bucky’s face. “That’s just toodamn bad, isn’t it?”

Tony couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Suchsass. Didn’t know you had it in you. Like it. Keep going.”

Bucky snorted. “Go to sleep, Stark.”

“Uh-uh,” Tony replied as she shifted into a morecomfortable position. “If you’re going to force me to call you Bucky, you’regoing to have to call me Tony.”

Bucky’s lips quirked into a small smile. “Sure, Tony. Nowgo to sleep.”

Tony thought about poking his tongue out but the amusedlook on Bucky’s face made him decide not to. Instead, he shifted again andclosed his eyes. He usually had trouble getting to sleep but the combination ofhis work binge, the battle and his injuries meant that almost as soon as heclosed his eyes, he was asleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sleeping when he finallywoke. He knew he was comfortable and warm and there was a strange weight on hisstomach. His leg was a dull throb rather than anything properly painful and hefigured if he didn’t move, it might just stay that way. He was contemplatingjust going back to sleep since his brain seemed inclined to let him do thatwhen there was a soft snuffling sound not far from his ear that made him tenseand opened his eyes. He turned his head just enough to see Bucky lying on hisside next to him on the bed, fast asleep. A glance down showed him that thewarm weight on his stomach was Bucky’s arm.

He really didn’t know what to do.

He’d just turned back to look at Bucky when he realisedthe other man had woken as well and was lying still and silent, his expressionutterly blank.

“You know… usually I like to be taken out on a datebefore snuggling,” Tony said without thinking.

The blank expression disappeared to be replaced but asomewhat dumbfounded one and a faint blush. Tony thoroughly approved.

“What?” Bucky said hoarsely.

“You know, a date?” Tony replied. “Dinner, drinks, maybea movie. That’s traditional, right? You know, I don’t think I’ve ever been on atraditional date.”

He was about to ramble on when Bucky suddenly said,“Okay.”

Tony blinked. “Okay?”

“A date,” Bucky said. “Dinner, drinks, a movie. With me.When your leg’s healed.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Wait… you want to go on a date withme?”

Bucky hesitated. “Yes?”

“The fact that was a question wasn’t very inspiring.”

“Yes,” Bucky said more firmly. “Yes, I want…” He stoppedand swallowed. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Now it was Tony’s turned to be dumbfounded, a state thatlasted right up until he saw Bucky’s face fall and start to go blank again.

“Yes!” he half-yelled before catching himself and sayingmore softly, “Yes.”

Bucky smiled and oh boy, Tony was going to have to see more of those smiles. Hewanted all of those smiles. He alsoknew he was smiling back and he probably looked a little bit like an idiot.

“So, if snuggling is after the first date, when do I getto kiss you?” Bucky asked, his smile edged with something a little mischievousthat Tony really liked.

“You could do that right now?” he said hopefully. “Idon’t need a date for that.”

Bucky frowned a little. “You need a date for snugglingthough? That doesn’t seem right.”

Tony shook his head. “Nah, snuggling’s more… just more.Kissing is kissing.”

“That didn’t make much sense.”

Tony huffed and then pouted. “I don’t care. I want akiss.” He pouted a bit more and threw in the puppy eyes. Rhodey had always toldhim his puppy eyes were very effective. “I’ve been hurt. I need a kiss.”

Bucky’s smile was back. “Need one, huh?”

“Yup,” Tony said smugly. “Didn’t anyone tell you thatinjured people need kisses to get better.”

“I’m not sure you’ve got that entirely right,” Bucky said,a light teasing tone in his voice as he shifted so that he was leaning overTony while carefully avoiding his injured leg.

“I’m sure I do,” Tony said hopefully.

Bucky chuckled then slowly leaned down. The kiss was softand gentle and everything Tony never knew he wanted. He curled a hand aroundthe back of Bucky’s neck, letting his fingers tangle in his long hair, and usedthe leverage to deepen the kiss. Neither of them heard the door open and itwasn’t until they heard someone groan rather melodramatically that they brokeapart. Bucky twisted, trying to get in front of Tony as much as he could, whileTony grabbed hold of him and tried to see past.

Steve was standing there, still in his filthy, slightlytorn armour from the previous day’s battle. He looked tired and worn and he wasrunning a hand down his face. He sighed and let his hand drop and hisexpression was resigned with a strong undercurrent of amusement as he looked atthem.

“You two are going to be impossible, aren’t you?”

Tony opened his mouth but before he could utter whateverdisaster was on the tip of his tongue, Bucky smiled smugly.

“Yep.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Come on. Let’s get youhome.”

#prompt fic #winteriron #tony stark #james 'bucky' barnes #writing #fic #jarvisstarkismycopilot

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southboundhq · 4 years

Photo

MEET BLYTHE,

FULL NAME › Blythe Landry AGE › twenty three turning twenty four in a month…maybe? GENDER › Cis female (She/Her/Hers) FROM › Boot Hill, Arizona RESIDENCE › Laguna Street (Midtown) OCCUPATION › Officer at the Amen County Sheriff’s Department NOW PLAYING › You Get What You Give by New Radicals

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger/content warnings: death, disappearance

The Landry Family has been a resident of Boot Hill, Arizona since before the beginning. The quaint family settled in the small mining town of Amen, Arizona the with the promise of steady employment and fortune. And that’s exactly what they got. Spreading word of the glorious town, more and more started to follow. The Landry Family stayed through it all. They hunkered down with the rise of the outlaw gang and the deviant behavior. Even when certain family members strayed to the dark side. When Boot Hill became just that, Boot Hill, the Landry family thought that brighter days would be come. But that was not the case, the mine became demonetized and abandoned. This left most of the Landry men jobless and forced to rely on their wives’ income. Most of them found other jobs, some left to find other places. The ones who stayed were rewarded when Amen Mine opened years later. Giving them even more reason to stay in the town they grew to love. Nothing was going to make the Landry Family leave.

When Blythe Landry came into the family, no one really knows. It was definitely in the 90s, maybe 94? They knew they celebrated Aiden’s third birthday before she arrived. But, Mrs. Landry has no recollection of being pregnant or giving birth. Mr. Landry couldn’t tell you what was going on. Not even Amen Hospital had records of Blythe’s birth. There was no denying that Blythe was a Landry. She had her father’s eyes and her mother’s nose. So, they decided it was January 20th, 1994, the same day that Boot Hill was officially established. Growing up, Blythe had a seemingly normal life for having a cop as a mother and a fire fighter as a father. Even with a protective older brother, she was still able to be a kid and get into some trouble. How couldn’t one find mischief in a town like Boot Hill?

The first tragedy was what made Blythe aware. Boot Hill was weird. Everyone knew that it was weird. They all heard the urban legends, but they were just stories. At that age, Blythe barely paid attention to the town news. She tuned out her mother when she started talking about work at the dinner table. But, now she wished she didn’t. One-night Mrs. Landry never came home from her shift at the station. It was normal for her mother to stay over, but never normal for her not to come home. One day turned into a week turned into a year with out a trace. It was as though everything went back to normal. Like nothing ever happened and there was no Mrs. Landry, ever. Now, Blythe knew that things were weird in their small, little town. She knew the legends, she explored the mine, she heard the noises. All of this was normal to her. It was what made Boot Hill, Boot Hill. But her mother disappearing without a good-bye was not. It made her start opening her mind up to everything else that was going on around her. The random trend of disappearing individuals. The normalcy that was made out of it all. The weirdness.

The second tragedy was what made Blythe figure out her future. Blythe always looked up to her parents. When her mother disappeared five years ago, all she had was her father and brother. The two were her rocks. They got her through her awkward phase. Taught her about make-up, periods, and boys. Or at least tried to. They mostly taught her how to fix the car and sports. The two were always in the stands for her soccer games cheering her on. She remembers hanging out at the fire station on nights her father had to work. The rides in the fire truck. It was all perfect until one day Mr. Landry ran into a burning building and never came out. The next day, with the flames completely gone, they were never able to find a body within the rubble. They didn’t find any trace of what was their father. That day, standing outside that house with Aiden next to her in his firefighter training uniform, Blythe decided she was going to follow in her mother’s footsteps. The town needed the Landrys fighting crime and putting out fires.

The third tragedy was what shattered Blythe into pieces. After their father’s death, or what they presumed was his death, Aiden was all that Blythe had left. With him being eighteen, he was legally her guardian. They were awarded the Landry residence on Laguna Street by the court. As well as, anything that belonged to their parents. Which was more than enough money for the both to be able to live freely for the rest of their lives. Only what Blythe presumed to be old family money passed on through the generations. No one ever being able to indulge since no one ever left their favorite little town of Boot Hill. From then on, Aiden was Blythe’s rock. She relied on him to be the father, mother, and brother. Both trying to figure out how to be a family without they hierarchy. The two stuck by each other’s side, helping in any way possible. But, five years after their father’s death, Aiden left Boot Hill. There was a note on the kitchen counter telling Blythe that he packed up the family car and headed South on the Southbound Highway. It wasn’t something that phased Blythe. She knew that he wanted to use some of their money to experience what the world had to offer. They talked about what else was out there at great length and she urged him to go. She would be fine on her own. She had a great job at the fire department and friends that cared for her. Blythe could adapt. Only thing was, their family car was still sitting in the driveway when she left for work. After a month of Aiden gone, with no other communication besides the initial note, Blythe realized he disappeared.

A years’ time was what made Blythe lose herself. It’s been twelve months since the last of Blythe’s family had mysteriously vanished from Boot Hill. It’s been eleven months since the town could barely recognize who Blythe Landry actually was. The badass, young female cop who rode her motorcycle through the streets was a shell of herself. From normally sending her Friday nights at Coyote’s, her Sunday mornings at Turquoise Star, week nights at the lanes or Iron Fitness. These days, the police officer had been keeping to herself, barely stepping outside her house or interacting with anyone outside of her shifts at the station. She’d been pulling long hours in the public library to research Boot Hill and its oddities, the urban legends, everything. Blythe knows that something is terribly wrong with the place that she calls home. She just doesn’t know what. And, she knows she probably will never find it. All she knows is that the three people she loved went missing in five-year increments of each other. There had to be some sort of connection in that, right? But through it all, what terrified Blythe the most was that in four years, she could be next. She needs to figure something out.

Now, the three tragedies shifted Blythe’s focus on what’s to come. She’s finding herself again. Taking each interaction in as another clue in this mystery. Though, she’s no where close to figuring anything out. She never will be.

❝ the wolves knew when it was time to stop looking for what they’d lost, to focus instead on what was yet to come. ❞

CENSUS,

FACECLAIM › Danielle Campbell AUTHOR › Elliot

#danielle campbell #rp #rpg #town rp #new rp #oc rp #{ all. }#{ local. }#{ f. }#{ over twenty. }#{ elliot. }#death tw #disappearance tw

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crushedbyhyperbole · 4 years

Text

Beyond Broken - Chapter Two

Have you read chapter one?

Warnings: There’s mild homophobia from a secondary character, and implied repercussions by that same character. Really he’s just old and set in his ways.

For more chapters see my Thor Odinson Mobile Masterlist

The Lonely Man

On Saturday Jess ran the emergency dental clinic until two o’clock when Sadie came in to replace her. She made it to David’s a little after three, taking a detour along the costal road by Ocean Beach Park. The previous night had really stuck in her head, like the spark of connection with another equally tortured soul. It was absurd and she knew it, but she found herself driving passes around the block anyway, searching. It was a futile venture.

William Sr. was full of smiles when he answered the door.

“There she is!” He beamed brightly. “My favourite girl.” His hug was firm and sincere.

“Ahh, Bill,” Jess chuckled, “not so loud or Daisy will get jealous.”

He winked at her with a cheeky grin and waved a hand at her as if to say ‘nonsense’.

“How’re you keeping? I hear you’re still looking after my David. He really loves your company, you know. You keep him sane, and me, if truth be told. He’d be in the house every night moping around getting under my feet if he didn’t meet you almost every evening. And you know I appreciate you helping out with the dog an all.” Bill didn’t wait for a reply but pottered eagerly into the kitchen. “Coffee, tea?”

“Coffee, please.” She’d need it after the horrific night sleep she got the night before. “I’m doing ok, thanks for asking. David an I really keep each other sane. He keeps me occupied so I don’t think about things too much.”

Bill’s eyes darkened as if a shadow had passes over his face momentarily. Jess knew it was still hard for him. It was hard for them all.

“He tells me you’re still enjoying your Sunday night meet.”

Bill only smiled by way of a reply.

“Sugar? Or are you still sweet enough?”

“Sweet enough.” She winked.

Daisy came running in at that moment and jumped up at her legs, laddering her tights and smearing mud up her shins. Luckily the knee-length pencil skirt she wore was spared the muddy make-over.

“Oh you stupid dog, leave the girl alone!” Bill bent, strained to pick her up. “Davey boy, come get this dog back in the utility room, she’s getting mud all over the place.”

“No harm done. I can live without the tights.”

“Hi!” David enthused, breathless, wearing a toothy gurn and wide eyes in place of a smile. He grabbed Daisy and took her back to get her cleaned. “We’ve just been down to the old stream.” He called from the other room. “All the rain has turned it into a river and a lot of the land has flooded.”

“Surprised they haven’t concreted that over to make a car park yet.” Bill scoffed, handing her a steaming cup.

“Thanks.” She sipped and sat with William Sr. as he resumed his afternoon TV session.

Watching the news was unbearable. People were still talking about Disintegration Day. This new D-Day had surpassed the world war II D-Day by quite a significant factor. Each city in America, and around the world probably, was erecting monuments, naming all those lost in what they were now calling The Infinity War. She didn’t pretend to know what that meant but it didn’t change the harsh reality of the outcome. We had lost but not without trying, apparently. The scale of this attack was far greater than that on New York and The Avengers had been powerless to stop it.

Jess knew very little about who and what The Avengers were, besides work talk and her talks with David. There had been public out-cry, people slating the group for their failure, calling for them to be brought to justice for bringing this war here to earth. What had become clear in the following weeks was that this Infinity War had been universal. Half of all life in the whole universe had been wiped out. How can a small group of people such as they fight a war that large on so many fronts? It was impossible.

Just leave them alone. Jess thought each time she heard the criticism. They’re people too. They’ve lost loved ones just the same as us.

“You ready to go?” David smiled down at her. How long had he been there?

“Yeah, sorry.” She shook herself free of the stupor that had gripped her, taking a long swig of her cooled coffee. “You sure you’re not up for a late lunch, Bill?”

David shot her a daggered look.

“Nuh-uh.” He grunted without taking his eyes off the TV. “I’m not one for these trendy wine bars and fancy restaurants. You go enjoy yourselves.”

She chuckled, if only he knew how few trendy wine bars and fancy restaurants there were left.

“Why did you insist on inviting him?” David pouted from the passenger seat. His feminine side was really showing through more and more lately. Silas was the likely catalyst for this development.

“He’s got feelings. And inviting him at least shows we care. Besides, he never accepts.”

She pulled away down the cluttered street.

All but the big towns and cities were becoming more and more run down as time went on. There were fewer sanitation workers now, hell, there were fewer of every kind of worker, but the same number of streets. The Stark Foundation’s Disaster Relief Initiative had been put into place two months ago, where the homeless and unemployed were all suddenly employed and homed thanks to vacancies and empty homes created by D-Day. It was taking a while, but humanity was gradually getting itself back on its feet. Things would never be the same but that didn’t mean it had to be all bad.

Jess’s dinner plans with David were mostly a ruse, just as the dog walking was, and virtually everything else in David’s life. They grabbed something quick in an uptown bar before David shot off to meet his lover.

“I don’t know why you don’t tell Bill that you’re gay.” She’d said to him once, a few months back.

“Because he’ll disown me and it’ll probably kill him.” He’d replied, swiping through grinder on his phone.

“Has he said as much?”

“Yeah.” David had stopped scrolling and turned his phone to her to reveal a sultry looking man with dark chest hair and a shaved head. “What do you think?”

“Too cliché.” She’d sipped her cocktail and rolled her eyes. “What were his exact words?”

“To quote…” David had dropped his phone into his pocket and stared at her with an irritated glare. “’When are you going to get a girlfriend, huh? Double-you-Jay started dating Jess before he was your age. I swear, boy, you better not turn out to be one of them fairies or I’ll skin you alive and disown you.’ He also added ‘you’ll send me and your mother to an early grave, damned boy.’”

Jess had accepted that, yes, maybe William Sr. was a bit of a homophobe. It had been a long time since she’d heard the old man refer to his eldest son as double-you-jay (W.J. for William Junior). Bill got over that phase when she and Will got engaged. Maybe he didn’t think of him as a man until he was on his way towards marriage.

So that put Jess squarely in the realms of helping David lie to his father and covering up for him while he went and got laid. It did make her wonder what kind of relationship it was, and would it last if the people in it could only see each other a few hours a day in clandestine meetings of sordid debauchery? And they were debauched, David had told her as much.

Whatever works for them. He’s happy. Let it go.

At 7pm she found herself back on the boardwalk at Ocean Beach Park instead of back at the practice catching up on paperwork. Heels and a skirt that limited your leg movements were not things one should wear for negotiating uneven terrain; she stumbled a few times on her way down to the waterfront. The clouds weren’t all that dense yet, some of them looked more white than grey, which was a change.

She leaned against the railing by marker twelve, it really was a beautiful spot. The regal trees and grassy expanse of the park at her back, dissected by well worn footpaths and clusters of flowering shrubs, clean pale sands stretching along in front of the silvery-wood deck of the boardwalk, and beyond, the deep Prussian blue expanse of the Atlantic mantled by tempestuous skies, all perfectly framed by minimum human clutter.

“No dog today?” A deep voice scared her into an undignified squeak.

Clutching her chest, gasping, she whipped around to face the man.

“I apologise, if I scared you.” The lonely man held his hands up in mock surrender.

“No, it’s ok. Well, I mean, you did, but it’s ok.” She panted a little, leaning forward to catch her breath again.

There was more light than when she’d previously seen him. His hood was down revealing dark-blonde hair that was short at the sides and longer on top, a neatly trimmed beard and the most perfect teeth she’d seen in quite a while. His smile faded quickly as he searched her face with concern, one crystal clear, almost iridescent, blue eye and one hazel eye scanning her reaction.

Heterochromia. That was rare.

“Once again, I apologise.” He lowered his gaze and began to turn away. “I shall leave you be.”

“No!” She lurched forward with her hand outstretched to stop him. “This is kind of your spot anyway, I’m just squatting here.” She rolled her hand in a beckoning motion. “Please. Stay.”

“Very kind of you.”

His accent was strange, English maybe but she wasn’t quite sure. He leaned on the railing at just over arm’s length from her, respecting the unspoken boundaries that strangers should about personal space.

They stood a while, looking out across the water. It was comfortable, she didn’t feel awkward until she suddenly remembered his question.

“No dog.” She said, nodding embarrassingly, giggling a little at how stupid she sounded.

The lonely man dipped his head forward, a smile playing on his lips.

“She’s an energetic one. I trust your gentleman friend is doing his duty this evening otherwise you will have a rampant puppy to contend with tonight.” He rumbled a short chortle at his internal imagery.

“He has.” David was family, not a ‘gentleman friend’.

She continued to look out across the water, feeling the chill of the metal railings bite into her forearms through her white chiffon blouse. It had been a mild day up until now, but with the light fading and the wind beginning to pick up she wished she’d brought her jacket from the car. Her sweater vest only did so much and, honestly, she hadn’t intended to stay so long.

“It doesn’t look as though it’ll storm so hard tonight, the air feels a bit lighter.” She glanced to her right to see him nodding. “Will you miss the rain?”

He looked at her then, with a pained look, mouth and brows set into a solemn expression.

“There are other things than rain to cleanse the spirit.” His tone was almost sagely. He offered her a thin-lipped smile.

“I suppose you’re right.” Jess had almost forgotten the cold by then. Her mind was quiet.

They stood in the failing light until ten o’clock rolled around. The lonely man was the first to break their mutual silence.

“I suppose I should let you go.” He rumbled quietly. “Shouldn’t keep you here any longer with my captivating presence.” He flashed her a brilliant smile and she couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“I’m not exactly handcuffed to the railings here.” She laughed. A light feeling she thought she’d lost bubbled up delicately in her chest. For the first time in ten months she felt like she might be able to find herself again, if only she could let herself feel something other than agonising loss. “But I should go. I’m the designated driver.” She raised her eyebrows and sighed.

“I hope your gentleman friend doesn’t keep you waiting again this evening.” The lonely man called after her.

“Me too. It was nice to meet you.” She waved from the start of the trail that would take her to her car.

“Likewise.”

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