#... i keep pushing my hair out of my face and it's a little greasy

[lady-sanguis]

I mostly wanted to show this sweater because I hadn't worn it until now because it was too warmmmmm. It's suddenly sweaterweather today though so yeeee look at me

[luveline]

𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you get upset when eddie's friends think you're clingy. he sets you straight with some unbridled affection. requested here. fem!reader, 2.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The diner is bustling with life and smells alike, people in their summer jackets eager to sit down and dig into a plate of greasy, fatty meats. You're just as excited, your fingers curled into Eddie's sleeve and following his lead as he weaves through a gaggle of kids playing between the bar and the booths. 

"Sorry, sir," a young girl says to him, springing out of his path. 

"That's okay," he says, leaning back to squint at you curiously, "Do I look like a sir?" he asks you.

Pale faced, dark-haired, the remnants of last night's eyeliner clinging to his bottom lashes, you can't say you'd look at Eddie and think, Sir. Pretty boy extraordinaire with a rather inviting smile, absolutely. 

"I think so, sir," you say. 

Eddie laughs at you, pressing a hand behind your shoulders to move you along. His friend Gareth waves from a booth tucked in a corner under a white sconce. Jamison sits to his left, and Margaret to his right. You feel a little skip in your pulse at the sight —they intimidate you, and you want desperately for them to like you, only you never know what to say. 

"Hey," Eddie says as you approach the booth. He pushes you gently to encourage you into the seat first. "How's it going? Did we order?" 

"We were waiting for you. They said we have to go up to the bar when we're ready."

"We're late, I get it. Where's Jeff?" 

"He went to the bathroom, like, ten minutes ago," Jamison says with a sigh, climbing to his feet. "I'll go see if he's alright." 

"He's fine. Maggie, are you coming to order?" Gareth says, getting up with him. 

"Yes, finally!" she says. 

The relative chaos of your arrival has you hesitating in your seat. Margaret left her purse and her jacket on the table, and Jamison his keys. 

"You okay to stay here while I order?" Eddie asks. 

You'd much prefer Eddie order for you, but you don't want to be sitting here by yourself if Jamison and Jeff come back before him. You won't know what to say. It won't be their fault. You'll make things awkward for everyone. 

You stand up again, shedding your jacket as you do. No one's gonna steal anyone's stuff, the bar is too close. "I'll come with you."

Eddie slots your fingers together easily, grinning, "Lucky me." 

His friends order first and return to the booth soon after. You and Eddie get cut by a cranky looking old lady but neither of you say anything, nowhere to be and no reason to mind. He tells you about the guitar he's been repairing at work and you listen adoringly, in love with the shape of his lips and how he says every word. He's a great storyteller. 

A new friend appears once you've ordered. 

"Hey, Eddie!" one of the waiters says, appearing from the kitchen with a tray of drinks and fries in hand. "Man, I've been trying to get a hold of you all week. The string on my daughter's guitar flew off, nearly blinded her in the process, would you be able to fix that for me? I'll pay you for your time." 

Eddie waves it off. "It'll only take five minutes, you can drop by whenever I'm home. Why do they keep splitting like that, is she messing with the pegs?" 

"She definitely is. Can I get your number? Macey washed my pants without emptying the pockets."

There's a mad scramble for a pen. You have one in your jacket because Eddie's always looking for one, but your jacket is back in the booth. You promise to make a hasty return and set off for it, glad to see Jeff's alright, standing at the table likely waiting for you and Eddie to get back rather than move your things. You like Jeff most out of everyone. With the whole group collected you know he won't drag you into conversation. 

"She's a bit… much," Gareth's saying.

"How can she be a bit much? She doesn't say a lot," Maggie says. 

You frown. You're the only other she. 

"Not like that, just– the touching and stuff. She's always grabbing onto him like a toddler. I don't think I could stand it." 

"You don't have to stand it," Jeff says. "She's Eddie's girl." 

"Clearly." 

"Gareth, when was the last time you got laid?" Maggie asks, flicking a hair tie at him, to his annoyance. "You're being bitter. They fucking love each other, man, it's nice." 

"It is a little tiny bit too much sometimes," Jamison says.

You wince. You know it's a matter of seconds before one of them turns to see you standing there. Is it worse to turn around or to approach? 

You walk up to the table just as Gareth says, "Yes! Thank you man, she's too–" 

He cuts off when he sees you with a cough.

"Who?" you ask, full well knowing it's you. Honestly, you're shy but you still get mad, you kind of want him to own up and say it while you're there, and at the same time you're hoping against hope they'll lie. 

Thankfully, they pretend it was about someone else. 

"Nobody," Maggie says. 

"Some girl at the library," Jamison says. 

You lean past Jeff with as sunny an apology as you can manage to grab the pen from your jacket. "Eddie," you say by way of explanation, holding the pen up with a shrug. 

You walk away quicker than you should. It's obvious you've overheard. There's a thump and a, "Nice fucking job, loser." 

Eddie's deep in conversation as you offer the pen. He takes it without stopping, but he makes sure he kisses your cheek. 

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, okay?" you say. 

"I'll be right there, sweetheart." 

To get to the bathroom you have to walk past the booth again. With the hurt feeling pounding between your ears and what you suspect might be all eyes on you, you make for one of the two doors. The summer sun and the dry Hawkins heat hits you immediately, a second layering of smothering to wrap around the first. You walk around a rainbow chalk hopscotch and into the shade of the smoking shelter, hands at your collar, breathing hard. 

Don't cry, you think firmly. Don't cry. They'll know if you do and that's twice as embarrassing as walking out. Imagine how embarrassed Eddie will feel if you cause a scene.  

You sit on the little perch in the shelter and stare at the floor. There's nowhere to look that isn't stingingly bright, the sun in the white-blue sky glaring down on you and the sidewalk bleached a blinding ivory. You close your eyes against it. Your shoulders hunch in protectively. Your hands find their way to your face. 

Like a toddler, Gareth said. You press your fingertips into your eyes, fighting against the ache. Is that true? Are you childish in how much you rely on Eddie? You take his hand and his arm, you catch onto his clothes when you're worried, you step behind him when you're overwhelmed. 

"Shit," you whisper. 

The breeze washing over you does little to cool you down. You must sit there for a handful of minutes, worried and nauseous. 

"Hey," Eddie says gently. You flinch despite his best efforts not to startle you. 

He looks tall outlined by the sun. 

"You okay?" he asks. 

"I just wanted some fresh air," you say. 

He raises his brows slightly. "That why Gareth just apologised to me?" 

You wince as he sits down. All of you wants to sag into his side, but a small voice tells you not to. You stay ramrod straight, hands pressed flat and clammy to your knees. 

Eddie gives your elbow a rub. His thumb digs into soft skin and the harder suggestion of cartilage and bone before sliding up. He uses touch often to convey silent reassurement. This seems to say, I don't know what happened, but I'm here. 

"I'm fine. We can go back inside," you say, attempting to fool him. 

"There's no rush." His voice tips to a low, rough register. He's keyed in to your upset, no doubt about it. "It's a nice day, babe." 

He gives you a minute. The small feathering of clouds skirts one edge of the horizon to the other, the shadow of the diner stretching tall as the sun lazes down. You push the worst of your feelings from your mind. It's easy to do with such an unshakeable support at your side, his fingers curling down to your forearm, vying for a hand to hold. 

"I heard your friends talking about me. It wasn't all nice," you confess. 

"Assholes." 

You glance at his face. He has a crease between his brows. 

"Well, mostly Gareth. He said that I… act like a kid. A toddler, that I'm too much, at least for him to stand. And don't get me wrong, Eds, I'm not thrilled that they were talking about me, but I guess I…" You take a short breath and look away from him. "I hate that it's true." 

"You can be mad when people talk shit. I'm mad," he says. "He said you're like a toddler?" He shuffles closer to you on the bench. "Babe, it's not true, okay? You're not too much. Fuck, we're here to hang out and they can't wait ten minutes to run their mouths–" 

"It wasn't like that, it was just Gareth." Gareth's always been the selfish friend. 

"He doesn't get a pass for saying something shitty 'cos he's always shitty. I brought you here," —you peek at him, recognising upset in his tone even when it's the barest inkling— "knowing you didn't really want to come because you get so nervous," —he sounds pained for you— "I fucking told him to leave you alone. I said we wouldn't come around if he didn't stop being a mood killer." 

You worry at your bottom lip. "Maybe that's kind of his point, Eds. You have to look out for me. You had to ask someone to be nice to me 'cos I can't handle it–" 

"You don't have to handle it. The people around you should be nice to you. This isn't high school, you don't have to put up with it, and I told him that." Eddie grabs your arm with the hand that isn't tangled in yours and turns you to face him. "I'm sorry," he says, almost a murmur, "I didn't invite you today to have you humiliated." 

You're feeling a little mortified by the passion of his feelings. He's mad at the wrong person, isn't he? "Why are you sorry? I'm the one who clings to you." 

"I want you to." Eddie holds your eyes, brown and big and imploring you to listen, the starts of his brows sewing together. "I'm sorry because it's not fair. And because Gareth was a dick to you. And for getting mad." He smiles at you ruefully. "I'm being a dick, too." 

"In what world?" 

Eddie leans in slowly, giving you enough time to close your eyes as his nose bumps into yours, encouraging your head up to allow for a kiss. He kisses twice, a third time, pulling away to rub your bottom lip. 

"Are you really upset?" he asks softly. 

You know whatever answer you give him is one he's okay with. 

"I feel so embarrassed," you say. "They knew that I overheard them. Now I feel like I'll be constantly worried about how much I'm touching you." 

"Well, that's their problem. That doesn't say shit about you," Eddie says, wrinkling his nose. 

"I'm really not too much?" you ask. He can likely hear how desperate you are for a kind answer, your throat burning with the effort it takes to stave off tears. 

"You've never been too much. I'm the too-much one. You wouldn't even hold my hand when we first started dating, you remember that? We'd go to the movies and you'd get so flustered when I bought your ticket." Eddie's arms wrap around your waist, the breeze ruffling his sweet curls and sending gusts of his smell your way. You're a goner, dropping your face into his shoulder. "Do you remember that?" he asks again, his face slipping down to yours as he hugs you close. "The first time we went to the Hawk together, I went first, and I don't know why you thought you'd have to buy your own ticket but you got all quiet when I got yours, too. I loved that. You know what I loved even more than that?" 

You smile, knowing he's going to say something lovely. "What?" you ask. 

"I loved how proud you were to sit down with me. You wouldn't hold my hand but you'd put your cheek on my shoulder just like this." 

Eddie rubs the tip of his nose against your temple. "I love how much you want to be near me," he says. "It's not childish, is it? If being closer to me makes you feel better, there's nothing wrong with that. Gareth's just jealous 'cos he isn't getting laid." 

"That's what Maggie said." You laugh. 

"Maggie's a good one. She makes Gareth bearable, kind of." 

You feel the stretch of his back under your hands. Your head is pounding from the sudden rush of big emotions, your tongue dry and throat aching, but you don't have a lick of urgency to get up and go back in. 

"He's such a dick," you whisper. 

Eddie laughs, patting your back. "Such a fucking dick." 

"I can't help being a loser and wanting to hug you so much," you say. You're joking now, but it's true all the same. 

"I tempt the untemptable," he says agreeably.

You laugh and lift up a bit to hug him harder, your face pressing into his neck. 

"You're not a loser," he says more seriously. "You know that, right? What Gareth said, it's not okay, but there's no accounting for idiocy." Eddie sits back on the bench, taking your forearms into his hands for some more soft massaging. "He can think whatever he likes, I'm not the government, but he was wrong, and also it's rude and, again, super shitty of him to do that here. So with your blessing I'm gonna punch him in the face." 

"Nooooo," you murmur. 

"Very soft no. Taking it for a yes."

"Eddie, you can't hit Gareth."

"He should watch his mouth, then." 

You reach up for a second hug. You love that he prioritised how you felt, as well as how eager he is to stick up for you —how mad he is on your behalf. 

"He's trying to take this away from me," Eddie says, leaning back under your weight, arms crossing behind your spine. He looks up at you like you've stolen his breath, lips parted and teeth peeking out with his smile. 

"Do you really want to punch him?" you ask. You sound very fond.

"I hate that he made you feel bad about yourself. And he irritates me." 

"But…" 

Eddie hums like he's thinking for a moment. "No, I definitely still want to hit him." 

You tuck a curl away from his cheek tenderly. "Thanks for wanting to defend my honour, Eds," you say.

"I'm on your side through everything." He looks ridiculously pretty saying such a ridiculously lovely thing. "That's how we work, right? You're on my side too?" 

Your face flushes with heat. "Of course I am, baby." 

"Good. Unrelated to our previous conversation, how much money do you have, roughly? In case I need financial aid in the coming days." He drops his voice to a whisper, "How much even is bail lately?" 

You cup his cheek. "We can't afford it," you whisper back. 

"Typical." 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!♡

[n0tamused]

'Please cannot fix'

Content: angst, character death, gn reader, possible grammar mistakes

Words: 1167

A/N: to that one person said I wouldn't do it - here you go. Suffer with me now.

Once mighty and flamboyant  Galaxy Ranger, now nothing but a desperate pile in the mud. The rain hails down onto him like acid, unrelenting as it bashes his back and makes him sink further into the ground. BootHill’s breath is heavy and ragged as he has long lost his voice, crying out to you to keep awake, to hold on until you’re both back at the base, he has already contacted a doctor through a built in radio - why didn’t you listen?

Leftover footprints had long since been washed away, eradicating the proof of his attempts at keeping you alive, as if he never tried.

You had pleaded with him to slow down, he was jostling you too much, doing too much, and you never saw him this panicked. His eyes could barely handle looking at the red gushing out of your wounds and onto the cold iron of his body. He didn’t listen, and kept going, his feet leaping and swallowing the ground under him with sloppy expertise, kicking up rocks and mud before it could stick to him. One of his hands mussed up your nape, patting the skin and pushing your head closer against him until he could feel your breath on his actual skin - on what little he had to feel with.  “Just a little more, sugar-” he’d say, turn after turn, thunder growling behind him. Moments feel like minutes, and he swears he can run faster, but he can’t -

“BootHill, stop-!” he froze, his eyes escaping whatever daze his mind spun him into, darting to look at your begging ones. Tears or rain, it made your nose red and your lips quivered with the weight of your words. “Let me go..”  You breathed it out, cupping his cheek and turning him to face you, forcing him to feel the fleeting warmth of your palm, it prevented him from running. However, he doesn’t stop moving, he consciously, simply cannot, and for once his artificial body agrees with his organic one; and neither listens to your wishes for him to stop carrying you. “I-I can’t- are you crazy?!” he blurts out sharply, but his face betrays the anger of his tone, his eyes, as wide as yours, show the man crazed with fear of losing something precious beyond life itself. 

“No, no, move yer hands away, I can’t see” he grumbles with a tangible tension in his jaw, shaking his head, flicking raindrops from the tips of his hair. 

“Please..BootHill..I don’t want this sight to be my last-! Please, put me down” you argued, lungs feeling heavy and full of holes that let the rain in. They burned for life, for air, they sought to be engulfed in warmth of the space ship once more, to breathe in the metallic scent that fill the room as BootHill cleaned his iron from the rain. Just once more. But you knew such a future was only a dream behind your heavy lidded eyes that were harder to pry apart every blink.  “Please..just hold me..” you muttered with defeat in your tone, and perhaps it was that which stopped BootHill at long last, or the sight of the bridge that had been split and broken before him, with the raging wide river threatening to swallow the earth itself around it.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, you in his lap, and his eyes bubbling up with what you could call tears. Translucent blue in color and greasy in texture, his tears fell for you. One metal and freezing hand goes on top of the biggest wound on your torso, pushing down to stop the bleeding. 

BootHill never felt more hopeless and useless than he did now. He tried and failed. And most heartbreaking of all, he didn’t protect you when he needed to. When he should have.

The rain fell harder after that. Your body absorbede the cold of it and grew heavier in his lap.

The wind howled over his head and went right through him too.

…..

Your face was the palest he had ever seen.

Your lips blue.

Eyes shut.

Hair slicked back with how many times he ran his fingers through it, keeping it from your face. Keeping you tidy.

You were limp and heavy, and you were still.. whole, as whole as you could be. He had cried all the tears he had within him, and he struggled to breathe for even longer. Feeling raw and more human than he did even before being turned into this walking machinery. 

You had held his face, and you apologized to him, and asked him to smile, you asked him to deliver you one more charming line - and he failed you in that too.

….

The silence was unbearable, and the cacophony even worse. Now, in the confined space of his ship, he cracked his voice raw open as he glared at the little hologram of the doctor that turned him into this walking tin can.

BootHill couldn’t stand the sound of his own voice that fluctuated higher with the flare of his anger, every sentence more distraught than the last. It got to the point the Doctor on the receiving end had gone silent as a grave, realizing the futility of trying to speak over BootHill. 

‘Bring them back’, he pleaded, hovering over the hologram, making himself feel greater, stronger, and more in control. 

‘If you could turn me into this with just ma head alone, you can help them as well!’ he argued, teeth grit together and showing off their points. Like a cornered dog he clawed and bit and held the last pieces of hope in his maw. ‘They’re whole, jus’ a few scratches-’ he added in haste, and the doctor began shaking his head.

‘Please, Doctor, you’ve gotta’ he stared at the flickering hologram, feeling something akin to acid rise in his throat, sick at the thought of denial. No, he wouldn’t give up on you. ‘Why not?! Because they’re not as loud as I am?! What is the reason?!’. He tried to argue and reason with the other man, and when he ran out of reasons he began to repeat the ones he already mentioned.

‘WHY NOT YOU IDIOT?!’ he shouted, now on his knees before the system table in front of him, the hologram now looking much larger than his own figure. His elbows still rested on the table and he felt like strangling the man in front of him through the hologram itself.

He could see the Doctor’s face fall, disappointed at best. And he heard him sigh. 

“BootHill. I can’t do it, and I won’t try it.”

The hologram flickered, and then went out, allowing the dark of the spaceship to swallow him whole. Trickles of oil began to seep through cracks in his metalwork, and more of his tears began to bubble up in his eyes. Like claws, his hands fell over his face, muffling a choked cry of anguish.

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

-Tags: @prettyliliy @nvuy @lofasofabread @teanypaws @molotto

(I just tagged everyone who showed interest when I talked about this idea, pls lemme know if you don't want the tag/want to be removed from the post <3)

[vivwritesfics]

No Need To Ask

Chapter Twenty-Six - The Hunt

The Norris' were a notorious crime family in the UK. One of many. With Norris, the head of the family, running operations with his son, Lando, they work to keep Y/N Norris, Norris' daughter protected. Life in a crime family wasn't something they wanted for her.

But with tension with one of the Spanish crime families rise, Norris and his now deceased wife come up with only one plan, offer their daughter to the Sainz's or risk an all out war.

1.7K words

Warnings: guns, kidnapping, major character death!! LIKE SERIOUSLY MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

guy's im so sorry for this one

Series Masterlist

Carlos watched the video again and again. He analysed anything he could from it, but there wasn't a lot to go on. It hurt to watch, seeing his pretty little wife in such a state. He watched it to the point he could see the bump forming. Their baby was growing. Through all of this, their baby was still growing.

He gave his phone to Lando, who had his best men taking a look at things. If anybody could find where the video had come from, it was them.

"Hello, Sainz. I believe I have something that belongs to you," the man in the video had said. Carlos couldn't see his face, just his wife on the floor.

He nearly snapped his phone in half at the sight of her. On the floor, a dishevelled mess. Hair greasy and matted, eyes bloodshot and tears staining her face.

"Now, what I want is simple. Leave two million pounds in a suitcase outside of the Mirabelle House hotel and it shall be collected at a time of my choosing. You have twenty-four hours to drop off the suitcase and retreat back to the Norris house. If the suitcase isn't there in the allotted time, I'll put a bullet in her pretty little head. I'll be watching."

The video zoomed in one Y/N, on her face as she sobbed. She looked so broken down and Carlos's heart was breaking.

This shouldn't have been the first time he saw his pregnant wife with a baby bump. It shouldn't have been from this video.

"Sir," Called one of Lando's men, striding towards them. He was a tall man that easily towered over Lando, but Lando was still much more powerful than him. It was clear by the way Lando stood tall and the man had his shoulders slumped. "We've traced the video back to a house maybe five minutes away from the Mirabelle House hotel."

"Great," said Lando, sitting back on the sofa.

Carlos just stared at him. They knew where Y/N was, yet Lando had sat back down, like he didn't care. "What the fuck are you doing?" He roared, that rage he had felt when Y/N first disappeared still there.

Sitting around for four days didn't help. Carlos wanted to tear the city apart, but Lando and Oscar held him back. Waiting was all they could do.

"Go and fill a suitcase with money," he said, switching on the television.

"Lando," Carlos growled. He was going to lose his shit.

"He's probably watching through the cameras! If we act like we're getting the money together to take to Mirabelle House, we can go onto the house and get Y/N!" Lando insisted.

It was at times like this that Lando showed his maturity and intelligence. It was his father's doing, how he had trained his son before he had died, Carlos realised.

He let out a breath through his nose (embarrassed that he hadn't thought of this plan himself) and went upstairs. As he went, Lando shouted up to him, telling him where he could find a suitcase and enough money to make it look like they were putting two million pounds into the suitcase.

Carlos was smarter than that, though. He put his body between the security camera and himself as he placed the two hundred pounds with of fivers into a suitcase. The suitcase didn't look very full, but Carlos pushed the bills to the side to make it look much fuller than it was.

When the suitcase was ready, Carlos carried it downstairs. Lando had received the address from his men and the two of them, along with Oscar, headed out to the car. "What about weapons?" Asked Carlos as he opened the trunk of the car.

Lando tapped the side of his nose as he pulled up the carpet inside of the trunk up, revealing the guns.

"Do we have a game plan?" Asked Carlos as he armed himself.

Oscar placed a gun into the waistband of his trousers. "Lando and I will deal with any men while you push forward and search for Y/N," he said and walked over to the drivers seat of the car.

Lando and Carlos couldn't protest that. Oscar was probably the calmest out of the three of them, the least likely to accidentally send them into the back of another car.

After Lando pulled up the GPS, they set off. The first upbeat, happy pop song came on the radio and Carlos was quick to switch it off. They certainly weren't going to be dancing in the moonlight tonight.

They drove past the Mirabelle House hotel and Carlos couldn't help but look around. Was the man that stole his wife away here? Was he waiting to snatch the money and go back to Y/N?

Some of you may be wondering why isn't Carlos just paying him? He certainly had the money. But this was a tale as old as time. Carlos knew exactly what would happen if he was to hand over the money. As soon as the money was in the man's hands, there would be a bullet in his wife's head.

They pulled up in front of the house. It looked incredibly unassuming, a simple town house in the city. Three bedrooms, maybe.

Oscar parked the car as though this was a normal day, as though they weren't about to go and rescue his best friend. The three of them climbed out of the car, keeping their guns in the waistband of their trousers.

They walked up to the house, Oscar leading them. They couldn't ring the bell or bust down the door, not without threatening Y/N's safety. So, Oscar got down onto his knees and worked on picking the lock.

It was one of his many talents, something he had learnt before Webber had taken him in. In fact, it was one of the reasons why Webber had taken him in.

As Oscar worked on the lock, Carlos and Lando noticed a camera, pointing directly at them. Fuck, that couldn't be good.

But, luckily for the three of them, the kidnapper was too busy watching the cameras in the Norris and the Sainz households. A grim smile had spread across his face as soon as he'd seen Carlos put the money into the suitcase and drag it out of the house. Soon enough they'd be back and he could go and get the money.

"Your fucking husband," he laughed as he looked at Y/N, the gun he was going to use to get rid of her in his lap.

Suddenly there was a commotion from up stairs. With no time to grab Y/N from her cell, he held his gun up, pointing it at the door.

Up stairs, Lando and Carlos shot the men waiting in the stairs. It wasn't a part of the plan, for Carlos to stay behind and deal with the men, so Oscar pushed forward.

It didn't matter that they weren't following the plan, thought Oscar as he pushed on. Aside from the two men on the stairs, there didn't seem to be anybody else in the house. But Oscar still kept his gun out as he made his way down to the basement.

It was just a hunch, her being down in the basement. The video had been dark and he couldn't really think of where else she would be.

The door at the bottom of the basement stairs were shut. Slowly and carefully, with one hand still holding his gun, Oscar pushed the door open.

A single shot cut through the frigid air of the basement.

Oscar didn't react right away. Red blossomed on the right side of his white shirt. And then his body dropped to the floor.

"That shot was meant for you," hissed the kidnapper as he turned back towards Y/N.

Y/N who's hands were covering her mouth. Y/N who couldn't believe what she had just seen. Y/N, who's best friends body was laying just a couple of feet away from her.

Suddenly, as the kidnapper reloaded his gun (he hadn't expected this, had loaded the gun with a single bullet for Y/N), somebody else came running down the stairs.

There was another shot and Y/N couldn't stop herself from screaming.

But her husband ran through the door as her kidnapper fell to the floor, dead.

His fingers wrapped around the bars of her cell as he reached towards her. "My darling wife," he whispered as Y/N grabbed a hold of him. One hand cradles her stomach as she stood up and rushed towards him. "How do I open this?" He asked, his voice calm as he pulled at the door of the cell. It didn't budge.

"There's a key. In his pocket," she said, her voice trembling.

Carlos searched the body, pulling a key out of a dead mans pocket. Neither of them had addressed the body of their friend on the floor.

As soon as he got the door open, Y/N ran into her husbands arms, tears streaming down her face. She sobbed into his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. "Oh, my love," he whispered as he kissed the side of her head. "Mi amor."

But then Y/N pulled away from him. She walked over to the body on the floor and fell to her knees. "Osc," she said, as if it would magically bring him back. Fat tears rolled down her cheek as she grabbed his hand. "Oscar."

Placing his hand on her shoulder, Carlos tried to pull her away. He was gentle, though. A harsh hand would never be laid on his wife again.

"No!" She suddenly screamed, throwing herself over the body. "I won't leave him! I can't leave him!" She screamed, eyes shut as she cried into Oscar's suit jacket.

With his touch still gentle, Carlos picked her up. "It's okay, mi amor," he said, holding her in his arms. "We'll come back for him, Lando and I."

Y/N simply cried as Carlos carried her away, carrying her out of the house.

Taglist (CLOSED): @multi-universe21 @formulas-bitch @gills-lounge @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @carlossainzwho @f1lov3r @samaib11 @charli123456789 @queenofmanydreams @ironmaiden1313 @vellicora @glitterf1 @80sloverry @lightdragonrayne @moonayu @bellsalabanccini @topguncultleader @handsupforamiracle @cmleitora @jenniferrvsesi @barcelonaloverf1life @sbella13 @nicolettecallednikki @darleneslane @thehufflepuffavenger1 @champagneproblems17 @aespie @yukheizcigarettes @rewmuslupin @hollie911 @ashy-kit @ririgy @stqrgir1 @zaynzierulez @minkyungseokie @rafaaoli @carolinesainz @ashies-ln4op81aa22 @measimp @mizelophsun11 @eviethetheatrefreak @andydrysdalerogers @formulaal @graciewrote @biancathecool @evans-dejong @sparklyperfectionstranger @venusesworld @goldenharrysworld @cassie0sstuff @gracielukey @watermelonworries @celesteblack08 @shobaes @chonkybonky

[samkerrworshipper]

let me love you | Leah Williamson x Reader

a lot of angst, ending in fluff, themes of eating disorders, depression and alcohol abuse, 5900 words

please keep sending request yall i need something to feed my brainnn

i’m stuck on a blurb for this so basically just what happens after a rough moment in r and leah’s relationship, can they fix it? can they learn to love each other again? the photo i’ve used says it all lol

it’s piecy and i think u can see my sleep deprivation in this one but hope you enjoy!

I’d known going into camp that I was in trouble. That as soon as the team doctor did our pre camp exam that I was going to be fucked. With the extensive weight loss I knew that it was only a matter of time before I was approached but I hadn’t expected it to be the first night.

I’d been lying in my bed, in my room by myself. I was rooming with Keira this camp, but luckily enough she spent most of her time in Lucy or Leah’s room so I didn’t see much of her. I’d had the tv playing in the background, to fill the room with something other than the sound of my breathing and the sound of me scrolling through my phone. Then my little bubble, my perfect barrier that I’d created was broken by the resounding noise of someone knocking at my door.

“Y/n, it’s me.”

Sarina. Fuck.

“It’s open.”

It was probably the polite thing to get up and open the door but I was comfortable in my bed and while Sarina was terrifying I couldn’t see her getting mad at me over something so minor. The door cracked open and I switched the tv off out of respect for the manager who had closed my hotel room door behind her. Her face was unsteady, like she was unsure how to approach the conversation, something that I’d never seen on her.

“You missed dinner.”

“I feel asleep, the jetlag has tossed me around a little bit. I didn’t even realise until I woke up twenty minutes ago.”

It wasn’t a lie, I had travelled an obscene amount in the past twenty four hours. I’d flown from Cabo to New York, then spent 20 hours in New York with Kristie and some of the Gotham girls before getting on a plane to take me to Barcelona, where I’d spent a very short eight hours with Keira and Lucy before we got on a plane to London to bring us to camp. It had been hectic to say the least and had resulted in one of my suitcases being lost and me being in a very lengthy back and forth discussion with British Airways about how my luggage had ended up in Austria and that no, I didn’t have the time to go to Austria to retrieve it.

“I think we need to have a talk.”

Sarina’s foot was tapping nervously at her side, it was her tell, she was about to have a hard conversation that was not going to be easy to go over.

“Okay.”

She nodded at me.

“Meeting room 2, five minutes?”

I gulped, fuck, a meeting room. It had gone from informal to a little bit to formal for my liking. I nodded regardless, too scared to reply in any other way.

“Yes Ma’am.”

As soon as Sarina had left my room I was throwing myself out of the bed to throw on some proper clothes and make myself look a little bit more presentable. I threw on my light blue tech fleece and puffer jacket that we all had and then very haphazardly threw my hair into a greasy high pony. I pushed some mascara through my eyelashes and some moisturiser on my skin before coming to the conclusion that no amount of makeup was going to be able to disguise the purple bags under my eyes. Once I was done making myself look a little bit less dead I picked up my phone and keycard from my bedside table and left the room, making my way down the hallway towards the meeting rooms.

The meeting rooms had a multitude of purposes, zoom calls, skypes, video review, contract signing. Business stuff mainly, not a talk with your coach. That was what had me trembling a little bit as I made my way closer to the meeting rooms. When I got to the door of the second one, the one I’d been told to go to I waited outside of it for a few seconds before lifting my fist and knocking twice on the door. I didn’t have to wait long for a reply, Sarina was at the door opening it for me in a matter of seconds. I stepped into the room quickly, my eyes recognising all the faces in the room.

I was directed to a seat at the table, sitting directly across from Sarina, Leah, Millie and our team doctor. Lucy and Keira were seated on either side of me and the whole vibe of the room was enough to tell me that I was royally fucked.

“We are all here to have an open conversation about your recent medical exam.”

I kept my eyes on my own hands, which were resting on the table, playing with the rings that adorned my hands. I couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to look into the eyes of a woman who a few weeks ago I had loved so intensely and now couldn’t even think about without crying.

“You're here to tell me that I’ve dropped a dangerous amount of weight considering my normal weight class, that I should get some further tests done even though we know that there is nothing medically wrong with me. We’ll beat around the bush a little bit, try to ignore the fact that we all know that you can’t allow me to play when I’ve dropped this much weight and then you’ll send me home.”

Sarina’s jaw was set firmly, I could make out that much as my eyes darted up to the older woman quickly to catch a look at her facial expression.

“Do you want to die Ms y/l/n.”

I was taken aback massively by the question, because who asks a person that question, especially in this context.

“I don’t feel comfortable having this conversation with certain people in the room. I don’t want to die necessarily but living right now isn’t exactly ideal either. I’ve had a rough couple of weeks, I’ll admit that, I’m aware. I’ve neglected my body, prioritised other things. I knew walking in here that I’d dropped 2 stone and I wasn’t proud of it. I just went through an intense break up though, I’ve been in Cabo for three weeks, most of which I don’t remember. I know that it’s bad, I know that as an athlete we have expectations but I need some wiggle room, I need you to give me a shot to make this better. Because I honestly believe that in this environment I can fix it, I’ll get the weight back, I’ll get back into therapy or whatever. I’ll give up the bad habits, I just need a period of grace.”

I couldn’t look at Leah, couldn’t let myself out of fear that my brave face would fall and I’d be left in shambles sitting here. I just needed to convince Sarina that I could get my shit together.

She was in front of my brooding for a few minutes, leaving everyone in the room in an awkward silence.

“Everyone out besides Leah and you.”

Fuck.

I watched as everyone else slowly got up, Lucy giving me a reassuring pat on the back before exiting the room.

“I’m giving you both five minutes to explain what the fuck happened between you two, because as much as you both want to make it sound like nothing it isn’t. Everyone can feel it and obviously it's affecting the both of you.”

I still couldn’t look at her, it just hurt.

“Seems like I’m the only one who’s suffering.”

“That’s not true nor fair y/n. Leah’s having her own struggles.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes at the table.

“She’s the one who caused the problems in the first place so I’d call that karma.”

The tension in the room was thick, like a cloud laid over us.

“That’s not fair, you had a part in it as well.”

“I had a part in you kissing Jordan at a party?”

“Jordan kissed me first off, drunkenly, she apologised profusely to both of us when she was sober. You soberly made the decision to kiss fucking Alexia.”

If the tension could have thickened anymore, it did.

“You cheated on me with your ex, I think I can cheat on you with my ex situation.”

“Do you realised how fucked up that whole ideology is? I didn’t want to cheat on you, anyone who was there that night will tell you that I physically pushed Jordan off of me, I didn’t want it to happen. I know it hurts you, but you wouldn’t even hear me out, you didn’t answer my calls or texts. I didn’t know where you went, just heard from Lucy that you’d decided to go abroad for a few weeks and you were turning your phone off. I spent 3 days sitting in Keira’s apartment balling my eyes out because I missed you so much, I haven’t slept properly ever since, I can’t fucking live without you y/n/n.”

Leah was sobbing and it hurt a part of me that I didn’t know existed. I wanted to hug her, wipe the tears from her face and apologise for my stupidity, to make it all better. But I was stubborn as shit and I also hadn’t really forgiven Leah. I hadn’t forgiven myself either.

That night had been the worst one of my life. Seeing Leah making out with Jordan had broken my heart and before I knew it I’d been running out of the bar we’d been celebrating in and calling Ale because she was my person and then she was picking me up and taking me back to my apartment and she was comforting me on our sofa and then we were kissing and Leah was walking in, mascara smeared and tears down her face and then Ale was running out of the apartment. I ended up waiting for Leah to fall asleep before I’d fled. I’d been terrified, my fear response was flight, when I was scared I fled, so that was what I’d done on that godforsaken night.

“I don’t really give a shit who did what. You both fucked up, that’s evident. We have the olympic coming up, Leah you are coming off of an ACL injury and you are going to be our captain, y/n, we need you on top of your game for us to win. I won’t deal with this team being torn into shreds because the both of you are too stubborn to talk about your feelings. Am I understood?”

Both Leah and I nodded meekly at Sarina, the both of us equally terrified of the dutchwoman and the tone of voice she was using towards us, like we were six year olds.

“Y/n, I’ll give you a grace period, two weeks. You’ve got two weeks to show that you can make some improvement in your habits, but there will be conditions if you wish to continue training and playing during those two weeks. You will eat every single meal, with the rest of the team. You aren’t going to work out beyond our team scheduled gym sessions. You will go back to talking to a therapist on a weekly basis. You are going to socialise with your teammates instead of holding yourself up in your room by yourself. You and Leah will room together until you can prove to me that you can be civil. If any of these conditions are broken you will find yourself sidelined, am I understood?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Sarina nodded at me, her blue eyes staring intensely into my own, I was trying to get away from this situation, away from the confrontation that was only bound to get worse the longer Leah and I were stuck in a room together.

“You are free to go, I expect to see you at breakfast tomorrow morning.”

I’d given Sarina a quick nod before bolting out of my seat and straight out of the room. I was pretty sure I’d had the worst 96 hours of my life. My whole body felt like it was on fire, my hair and face were still greasy from all of the airplane travel and my eyes just hurt. I half jogged my way back to my room, slamming and locking the door behind me almost as soon as I’d closed the door behind me. I slowly slid down against the solid wood, this whole situation was so fucked.

Not only did I have to focus on being fucking civil with a woman who I hated, I had to fucking turn my whole life around in a matter of two weeks, which right now seemed pretty fucking impossible. I wasn’t a person who cried very often, I wasn’t in touch with my emotions like that. But right now, fat, warm, wet tears were dripping down my face and my lip was wobbling between my two front teeth trying to suppress the sobs that were coming up from my throat. Love hurt. Loving someone and being loved is one of the hardest things that I’d ever done, because it’s not easy to spend every day loving a person, it fulfilling but it also is so fucking painful.

I could hardly make up the energy to get off the floor, so I didn’t. I sat against the door, crying, shaking and trembling as I let out the feelings that I’d built up for the last month. I was a person who didn’t cry very often, when I was drunk, when someone died, when I was really hurt. That was the extent of my emotional release. Leah was similar, that’s why we’d hit it off, neither of us were over emotional, we didn’t read into things and we didn’t over complicate anything. At the end of the day neither of us had to worry about the other one getting offended by a joke or drunken words. I’d honestly believed we were soulmates, for a long time, but that night had wrecked it all.

Both of us had been stupid, it had been the celebratory night of our win in the Nations League, we’d beaten Spain, it was a big deal. Everyone was completely wasted and I didn’t remember much of the night until Leah had been on the dance floor with Jordan, Chloe, Millie, Rachel and some other teammates and one moment Leah is motioning for me to join me and the next Jordan is making out with her and I’m running out with Lucy following me. Then Lucy called Ale because I’d locked myself in our hotel room ensuite. Then Ale was there and she was comforting me and hugging me and I was pissed off at Leah and then I was kissing Ale and she was telling me no and the Leah walked in to comfort me and it was just a fucking mess of alcohol and emotions.

Just thinking about that night had hurt, I hadn’t let myself in the last month. Not when I’d been in Cabo drinking all day and night, clubbing and partying and spending all of my spare time trying to push my emotions away. Then I’d gotten the call from Sarina, I’d been expecting it but it had still shocked me for some reason. In a matter of 24 hours I’d been packing up all my shit and hopping on a plane back to the one place that I couldn’t have been more desperate to avoid. I’d contemplated turning down the call up, but a call from my agent had told me that I couldn’t expect an invite back if I turned one down now. The Olympics was a big deal as well, it was something that I did want to do but the overwhelming anxiety I had felt being faced with the reality that I was walking into a group of people that worshipped the ground that my ex girlfriend walked on.

My thought pattern was interrupted by the sound of knocking directly above my head. The sound pulsated against the wood and across my body, seeping deep into my bones. It was a resounding knock, loud, echoing across the room.

“Y/n, open up.”

It was the voice that I least wanted to hear at that moment and I tried my hardest to ignore it but the sound of the knocking repeating made it harder.

“Y/n/n, c’mon, open the door, I know you're in there.”

It was the nickname that only she called me, a nickname I hadn’t heard in a month and it hurt my soul hearing it. It made fresher tears fall from my eyes that I rubbed at furiously with the sleeve of my jumper. I wiped as much of the smudged mascara and tears from my face, I knew subconsciously that my eyes were red and puffy and Leah would one hundred percent be able to tell. For my dignity though I rubbed it all from my face before standing up and opened the door.

Before I could say anything Leah had slipped past me and into the room, making herself at home and sitting down on Keira’s bed, resting herself at the very top so she was leaning against the headboard. I pushed down any thoughts that I had about Leah being in the same position in our own bed, except with a lot less clothes covering her body.

“You’ve been crying.”

It wasn’t a question, a statement, but it held a question in it somewhere. Leah wasn’t used to me crying, so the fact that I was crying was probably a little bit of a shock to her.

“What do you want?”

Leah pouted at me, sarcastically, it pissed me off how confident she was when I felt like I was tearing at the seams.

“In case you didn’t remember, we’re roomies now. I wanted to talk, I think we both have stuff we need to get off of our chests. I love you y/n/n and I’m worried about you.”

“Go worry about Jordan.”

I was leaning against the dresser, trying my hardest to keep my shit together in front of the woman that was making me feel so many things that I had been denying myself for a month.

“That’s fair, but also not necessary. I didn’t kiss her y/n, I didn’t even get as close as a metre’s distance from her, anyone there could tell you that. I pushed her off me. So yes, she kissed me, without my consent or my desire for her to do so. I love you, not her. I promise you that. She means nothing to me beyond being my friend, I don’t love her.”

I didn’t really know what to say. Leah wasn’t really the root of my anger, because I knew that it had been Jordan all over Leah, and at the end of the day she’d come to my room that night to apologise instead of going back to Jordan’s, I was her priority.

“She loves you, and I can’t do anything about that. That hurts and I know that it shouldn’t, I have no right to be jealous but it hurts.”

Leah looked contemplatively at me, like she was trying to understand what I was saying but knew that she couldn’t really.

“Do you love Alexia?”

I gulped, that was a fucked up question that I didn’t have a answer for. My immediate silence gave enough context to that.

“That’s not a fair question.”

I was deflecting and also furiously toying with a loose thread on the edge of my jumper.

“I think I deserve to know if the woman I love loves me the same way.”

It was hard hearing those words come out of her mouth as well.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t love her. I dated her for six years, I thought I was going to marry her. I don’t love her like I loved you. We broke up because we couldn’t love each other that way. It was a surface relationship, but we both knew at the end of the day that we couldn’t get married or have kids or get old together, we didn’t love each other like that. We didn’t have a messy break up, I didn’t have a phase where I hated her and I wanted nothing more than to be away from her. We just stopped physically loving each other. She’s still my person Leah, you know that. I regret kissing her, I was so drunk and I was so fucking upset and she was so familiar to me in that moment. So maybe I do love her, in some fucked up way, but I don’t love her long term. She’s not the woman that I want to spend the rest of my life loving, not the person that I want to wake up next to, not the person that I want to write vows for, not the person that I want to be with every minute of every day. I don’t yearn for her.”

I realised now that there were tears in Leah’s eyes, which shocked me a little. Leah never cried, I could count the amount of times I’d seen her properly sob on one hand. Four times. When we won the Euros, when she did her ACL, when she woke up from ACL surgery and that night when it had all happened. Apart from that she was a brick wall, she wore a facade everyday, that very little people got to see broken down. I considered myself very grateful to have been able to see past it, to see the side of Leah that not a lot did. She’d let a stray tear go every once in a while, but proper crying, proper emotional, vulnerable crying was very rare to see.

“Do you love me long term?”

“Leah, that's not a fair question either.”

Tears were running down Leah’s face, similar to the tears that had been falling down my face less than five minutes ago.

“It's not fair? I’ve been here for the last month y/n, wondering if we still stand a chance. Wondering if you still love me, wondering if I should wait around for you? I want to know if you still love me as much as I love you.”

I could feel more tears coming to my eyes, Leah was sitting not even three metres away from me and yet it felt like we were oceans apart.

“I don’t know. Does it really matter?”

Leah was wiping at her face, she detested vulnerability and it was clear in her actions.

“Does it matter? Y/n/n, I am trying to figure out if I am going to spend the rest of my life fucking mourning losing the love of my life. I want to know if I stand a chance, if there is something here that we can salvage, something here that we can try and fix. I will spend everyday making it up to you if I have to, anything you need us to do I am down to do it.”

I shifted from toe to toe in my spot standing, Leah’s words were so genuine, they had so much power over me, sent shivers down my whole body.

“I love you. I love you enough though to tell you that I’m a fucking wreck, some of it’s because of this, some of it is just me. Leah I’m trying to fucking sort myself out now and I love you but I’m not going to tell you that your my priority right now, I love you but I also am trying to learn how to love myself and I’m also trying to learn how to love my sport again.”

Leah pursed her lips, wiping the last of her emotional admission tears from her face. She looked so raw, her blonde hair was thrown up in a messy high bun, an unusual look for her, her face was stripped bare of any makeup and her jumper looked a tad bit too big on her. She looked stripped, stripped of her dignity, stripped of her facade, stripped of everything that made her Leah motherfucking Williamson. I wasn’t looking at England’s captain, I wasn’t looking at Arsenal and England’s world class defenders. I was looking at just Leah. The Leah who would wake me up with forehead kisses every morning, the Leah who would give me foot massages after a rough training, the Leah who would only look at me in a room full of people.

“I’ve worried about you so much that I started to get scared I was praying. You took off and I didn’t know with who or where. I mean I know that I fucked up but y/n/n, we could have talked it out, or we could have tried to. You fled and you didn’t even give me a goodbye. I didn’t know if we were done or if I was ever going to see you again and it fucking broke me. I stayed in bed for a week, I didn’t eat, I didn’t leave. Keira and Lucy literally had to drag me out of bed to get me to do anything. I cried, non stop for a week, it was horrible and I felt like shit. Then Lucy got Alexia to come over and we talked it out and she told me that she didn’t mean for it to happen and all she wanted was for us to be happy and it broke me because how am I supposed to be happy when the woman I love is nowhere to be seen.”

A sob echoed from her chest and it broke my heart, because I hated seeing Leah in pain, I hated seeing her hurt. When she’d done her ACL it had been the most gut wrenching thing I’d had to witness. The only difference was that now I was the source of pain and it hurt ten times more.

I pushed myself off of the dresser and towards the bed. Leah’s head was buried in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees as her palms rubbed furiously at her eyes. I sat down onto the bed and pushed myself up against the headboard beside her, putting one of my arms down on her shoulders and gently nudging her head into my neck. It was uncharted territory but also felt so familiar and right. Hearing Leah’s sobs hurt my soul, but my contact seemed to calm her a little bit. She flinched away initially, unsure but then she was seeking it out, leaving into me and everything about it felt right.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry for what happened with Jordan, I’m sorry if I didn’t make you feel loved, I’m sorry if I didn’t treat you well enough, I’m sorry if I’m not good enough. I’m trying to work on it, I’m trying to be better,” I stopped Leah before she could say much more.

“It’s not your fault Leah,” My voice came out with exasperation, because I hated that Leah felt that way,

“You made me feel loved everyday, you treated me perfectly. You are perfect Leah, you were a perfect girlfriend, a perfect captain, a perfect person. We had our moments but you are a good person, you don’t need to be better. I’m the one who can’t fucking handle herself, who had to flee the country when it got rough and I’m sorry for that, I’m sorry that I ran when it got hard.”

Hearing Leah hiccup on her breath was so painful for me, painful enough that I reached my hand down to her face to try and wipe some of the tears off of her cheeks.

“C’mon, you're too pretty to be crying.”

It was a weak compliment that died with the mood of the room, Leah let out a depressing laugh that honestly just made it all worse but her sobs did quieten down a little bit and I noticed that the tremors that were haunting her whole body had slowed down and had become less of a repetitive pattern.

“You haven’t been eating, you lost two stones, did I do that to you?”

Leah’s voice was so shaky, so insanely innate for her.

“Me not eating has nothing to do with you and I won’t have you taking the blame for it. Not everything is your fault Leah and you don’t have to take the blame for it all. I know how your brain works, that you are going to take the blame for everything that has happened between us, but it’s not your fault, a lot of it is mine, my eating habits though have nothing to do with you.”

My voice was a mixture of steady and stern, I had a point to get across and I needed Leah to understand that, I needed her to know that. She wasn’t as fearless and brave as she constantly tried to prove to anyone, she was always the first to blame herself for anything, always getting down on herself and I knew that, I knew that Leah could send herself into a downward spiral.

She pulled her head out of my shoulder and locked eyes with me, her dark brown eyes felt like they were violating me, I felt like I was naked under her gaze, like I was so incredibly vulnerable.

“Why haven’t you been eating?”

I felt like I was under a magnifying glass, like Leah could see every single part of me and could see into my brain. She always worried about me, always. To the point where sometimes it was concerning, I had as much as a sniffle and she was doting over me like my mother.

“I’m fine Lee.”

“If you were fine you wouldn’t have lost two stones.”

She could read me too easily and she knew that I was pretty much putty in her hands as soon as she started talking.

“It got dark for me when I left, I needed to leave but then I was gone and I realised that I was so alone and I was partying to try and avoid my feelings and it worked but you know how I am when I’m depressed, I stop eating, I stop functioning. I lived off of alcohol for three weeks and then I got the call from Sarina and for the first time in three weeks I was completely sober and it hit me like a freight train. I realised how bad it had gotten and I was in shambles.”

Leah nodded at me, she knew how I worked, knew that when I was starting to spiral I tended to push it all down until it got so bad that I had a nervous breakdown.

“You need to eat, we need you playing, I need you on the field. It broke my heart when Sarina came and told me, when she asked me if I’d seen any of the warning signs or if I’d noticed and I couldn’t give her an answer.”

I brought my hand back up to rest on Leah’s face, she was still shaking, still hiccuping with every word that she said. I pushed the tears that were pooling on her face away with the pad of my thumb.

“I couldn’t even tell her anything.”

Leah’s words were thrown out between choken sobs and hiccups, it was so strung out and painful that I felt it in my chest.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that, I’m sorry I deserted you. I’m so sorry I hurt you Lee, you deserve better, you deserve someone who has their shit together.”

Leah pulled herself out from beside me and scooted herself so she was sitting in front of me, between my legs looking at me directly.

“I want you though, I want to love you and I want you to let me.”

I couldn’t do much more than look at her, look at her eyes, look at how heartbroken they were. They were full of so much pain, so many sleepless nights and a part of me wanted to fix some of that.

“Let us be happy, let all of this devastation come to an end and just let us be happy. We’ll work through what happened, we can try therapy, or something else. I want you though y/n/n, I want you forever and I don’t want us to give up on that because of some stupid shit that happened when we were drunk.”

Those fucking eyes, they held the sun and the moon, they had the power to make me do anything.

“I want to try, for us. I still think that you are my forever Leah. I just don’t want either of us to get hurt in the process.”

“Love hurts, we work through it. Please just try it for me.”

Her lip was wobbling in between her teeth and it took every single piece of self control I had to not take that lip in my own and just kiss the woman like I wanted to.

“Okay.”

Leah’s face lit up almost immediately, like a kid in a candy store. She leant in towards me, her lips hovering centimetres away from my own and her eyes looking into my own and it took literally every piece of my self control not to initiate anything.

“Is this okay?”

Leah’s voice was calmer this time, less rough on the edges, less broken. I nodded eagerly at her and relaxed into her body as she pressed her lips to mine. It was soft, tender, relaxing, so perfect.

“How about this?”

It was murmured against my lips, a small smirk forming along Leah’s lips.

“So good, but I think we are both overdue for some sleep.”

Leah frowned against my lips but nodded, we were both tired and it was obvious in our actions. She plopped herself down next to me, relaxing into my body and laying her head against my chest.

“Flick the lamp of love.”

The term of endearment sent a shiver down my back, it was so normal and yet so shocking to me. I obeyed her immediately, turning over to the bedside lamp and flicking it off so we were left in the dark. I shrugged my jacket off before relaxing down into the pillow. Leah shifted around for a few seconds, finding a comfortable spot on my body before stilling herself. She looked so small curled up against me, I tugged her hair out of its bun and rubbed her roots just the way I knew she liked me too and rubbed her back the way I knew sent her straight to sleep. It probably took not even a minute before Leah’s body relaxed fully and her breaths evened out and when they did I smiled a little bit looking at her exhausted form. I leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before relaxing myself fully against the pillows and preparing myself for my own sleep.

“I love you Leah, always.”

[libraryofgage]

SpiderPool Steddie Part One

So, this is definitely gonna have multiple parts lmao

It's been bouncing around my brain for a while like the Addams Family Steddie AU lol

Anyway, lemme know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts ^_^

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Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls is, at best, a dive bar. At worst, it's a cesspit in which the scummiest people in the city gather to bask in each other's scumminess. To Steve, however, it's the perfect place to collapse after a long patrol, splayed out like a starfish on the roof as the music playing inside vibrates the building itself.

Steve takes a deep breath, setting his bat down next to him before pushing his mask to the bridge of his nose. He then lies down on the roof, wishing not for the first time that the city's light pollution wasn't so bad. Seeing the stars and hunting for constellations would really help him ignore the cracked ribs screaming inside his chest and threatening to break if he even breathes wrong.

All things considered, though, it could be worse. Steve doesn't have any morning classes, Vecna didn't beat him up nearly as bad as he usually does during their fight earlier, and his accelerated healing means Steve will be able to breathe normally by morning. Robin would tell him he has a very low bar when it comes to judging how shitty his life currently is, but she isn't here, so her opinion doesn't matter. Dustin would tell him he should try not getting his ass whooped in the future. Thankfully, he also isn't here, making his opinion as meaningful as Robin's.

Steve closes his eyes, letting his shoulders relax and trying not to think about anything. It sort of works until his entire body suddenly tenses, every nerve on edge and goosebumps shooting across his arms. He shoots up, ignoring the harsh twinge in his ribs as he turns in a crouch and grabs his bat. Steve clenches his jaw, breathing harshly through his nose to keep from groaning in pain, and feels relieved he didn't completely remove his mask completely.

Over by the door leading to a staircase is a guy with ripped jeans, a worn-out shirt with "HELLFIRE CLUB" across the chest, a jean vest covered in patches and pins, and hair pulled back out of his face with a few wavy strands stubbornly escaping his hair tie. He's breathing a little heavily, his face flushed like he's just climbed a few flights of stairs. Actually, he probably has.

"Woah," the guy says, his voice soft enough that Steve would have missed it if not for the enhanced hearing. The guy clears his throat and holds up both hands, showing off a bottle of Jack Daniels in one and a bag with a grease-stained bottom in the other. "Uh, I come in peace. I didn't realize the rooftop was taken."

Steve has no clue what possesses him, but he forces himself to relax and set the bat down. "No, it's okay. I can head out," he says, staying seated despite his words. He's really hoping the guy will insist he doesn't need to; his ribs are still aching like a bitch.

Thankfully, the guy flashes a grin and slowly lowers his hands. "Nah, you're all good. Not every day I get to eat next to a hero. Want some fries?" he asks, walking over and sitting a good two feet away so there's plenty of room between them.

He tears open the bag to create an impromptu plate and puts it between them, the smell of greasy and undoubtedly delicious fries tempting enough that Steve picks up a smaller one and pops it into his mouth. "Thanks. Where are these from?" Steve asks, glancing over as the guy twists the cap of his bottle and takes a swig.

"A burger joint two streets down and one street over. On the corner."

Steve nods, making a mental note of the directions so he can get a burger before swinging home. He's got just enough in his pocket to afford one. "So, got a name?" Steve asks, figuring he's already eating the guy's fries and they're about to spend some time together on this roof. He should know the guy's name.

The guy's grin returns, and he sets the bottle down between them as well. It's tempting, but Steve doesn't trust his alcohol tolerance to hold up while his body is busy fixing his ribs. "Eddie. Do I get to know your name, too?"

Steve snorts and leans away slightly, putting a bit more distance between Eddie and his entirely too-grabbable mask. "Nice try," he says.

"Worth a shot," Eddie says, shrugging as he picks up a few fries. "So, Spider-Man, what brings you to Sister Margaret's? You enjoy the gay metal scene?"

"What's the difference between gay and regular metal?"

"Our hair is better," Eddie explains, dramatically flipping the few strands of hair escaping his tie.

Steve has to hold back a second snort, taking another fry and chewing on it before saying, "I like resting here after patrol. The whole building shakes with the music."

Eddie lights up, his eyes brightening and his back straightening some. "So, you're a fan of Corroded Coffin," he says, taking another swig of the Jack Daniels. It's only now that Steve realizes it's already a quarter of the way gone, and he wonders if Eddie's liver can handle that much alcohol all at once.

"Is that the name of the band?"

"Yep. They play here almost every night."

"I'm guessing you like them, too, then?"

Eddie hums, amusement dancing across his expression now, giving Steve the distinct feeling that there's some secret he simply isn't in on. "They're the best band I've ever heard. Their music is incredible. They really push the boundaries of the genre. And their lyrics? Amazingly layered with at least three meanings per line. I highly recommend actually coming in for a listen one of these days," Eddie says, leaning a little closer to Steve.

A beat of silence passes in which Steve holds Eddie's gaze. Or, he holds the gaze on his end; he's sure Eddie can't actually tell with the mask covering his eyes. "You're in the band," Steve says.

"Lead guitarist and singer, yes. I also write the songs."

"You're incredibly critical of yourself, really grounded in reality."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "I just happen to know my worth incredibly well."

"You have all the confidence of a mediocre white man on a job hunt."

Eddie gasps, placing a hand on his chest as he looks at Steve. "How dare you call me mediocre. I am revolutionary at worst and the second coming at best."

"You know the second coming involves, like, an apocalypse or something, right?"

"I'm Jewish, why would I bother with the fine details?" Well, Steve will give him that. "By the way," Eddie says, gesturing to Steve's bat as he continues, "do those nails actually see any use? Or are they just there to act as a threat?"

Steve looks down at his bat, considering it for a moment before carefully holding the middle and offering the handle to Eddie. Now that he's giving them a few moments of attention, he's realizing the nails embedded in the end are a little rusty and definitely need cleaning. "I try not to be deadly with it, but Vecna's got these lab-grown demon dogs and bats that always manage to break through my webs," Steve explains.

He watches as Eddie takes the bat, weighing it in his hands before shoving his palm into the nails. Steve jerks, a wordless shout escaping his throat as he launches himself over the fries and in front of Eddie. "Are you okay?!" he asks, grabbing Eddie's hand and shakily inspecting the nails sticking through it. Fuck, those are going to be a bitch to get out, and he'll probably have to swing Eddie to the hospital for a tetanus shot.

Being angry doesn't even register in his brain as Eddie laughs. "Don't worry about it, Spidey," he says, pulling his hand off the nails with a slight wince. He wiggles his fingers, letting Steve have a front-row seat to the injuries closing. "See, good as new."

And he's right. The injuries are good as new. In fact, there isn't even any scarring, and Steve almost rips his mask off to take a closer look but stops himself at the last minute. Instead, he grabs Eddie's hand and yanks it closer, turning it over to check his palm, too. "What the fuck?" he asks, looking up at Eddie, still gripping his hand tight.

"Super healing," Eddie explains. "Like, super duper. If I ever get decapitated, just hold my head to my neck, and I'll be right as rain."

"I'd rather not put that claim to the test," Steve says, frowning slightly as he runs his fingers over Eddie's palms, just to make sure the injuries aren't somehow hidden from sight.

"You know, I kissed the last guy who touched my palm like that," Eddie says, leaning in again with that grin.

Suddenly all Steve can think about is how Eddie's lips do look soft. And it has been a while since Steve actually kissed anyone. And he does think Eddie is funny. And he does find himself wondering if his smile will taste like the Jack Daniels and fries. And...and...

And Steve needs to go before he does anything he shouldn't be doing as Spider-Man.

He jerks back, dropping Eddie's hand like it burns, and ignores the ache in his ribs as he grabs his bat and stands. "I, uh, I need to get going. Thanks for the fries, Eddie," he says, hurrying over to the edge of the roof.

"Woah, just gonna eat and run on me, big boy?" Eddie asks, scrambling to his feet and over to where Steve is climbing onto the edge of the roof. "That's not very hero-like of you. You haven't even left me your name or number. How are you gonna pay me back $2.50 for the fries?"

"I had five," Steve says, turning to look at Eddie as he webs his bat to his back and pulls his mask down over his chin.

"The economy sucks, man."

Okay, he's got Steve there. Again. "Nice try, Eddie."

"Can you blame a guy? Your ass looks great in that spandex."

Steve is suddenly relieved his mask is back down, covering the furious blush spreading across his cheeks. He'd think it was just a joke, but the sincere and somewhat goofy smile tugging at Eddie's lips tells him it's more genuine than anything else. "Thanks," Steve says, giving Eddie a two-finger salute before taking a step back off the roof.

He shoots a web at the edge of the building, using the momentum to swing around the corner. His ribs are killing him with the movement, but he still manages to throw a, "See you later, Eds!" over his shoulder before he's completely out of earshot.

Later, Steve will wonder how Eddie got his super healing, if he's that flirtatious with every guy he meets on the roof of Sister Margaret's, and if he'll be there the next time Steve swings by. But that's for later. For now, he's just enjoying the breeze rushing over him and thinking about Eddie's eyes and his smile and his long fingers.

[babydollmarauders]

FIGHT — JACK HUGHES

part of the el!hughes au

summary: y/n (lovie) and jack get into their biggest fight yet

warnings: fighting, mention of bad parents (lovie’s)

my head slumps on the back of the couch as Eleanor’s cries pierce my eardrums.

“El, baby, c’mon.” i groan out.

my recently turned one year old is sprawled out on the apartment floor, throwing a fit over something of which i have no idea.

i tried to pick her up, but she just kept pushing my hands away, screaming ‘mama! no! mama, no! no, mama!’

it’s been two weeks of this, and i have a sneaking suspicion that her constant sour mood has been all because of the particular absence of her favorite person. Jack.

it’s been two weeks of early wake-ups and late nights. two weeks of El having meltdowns if i mess up even one thing, like giving her cheetos in a bowl instead of her snack cup, or suggesting Moana instead of watching Lilo & Stitch for the billionth time, or reading her the wrong book at bed time. it’s been two weeks of sleep regression, no naps, and her throwing her food every chance she gets. two weeks of her screaming if i try and leave the room, but screaming if i try and pick her up as well. two weeks of bags under my eyes, messy buns because my hair is horribly greasy, and surviving purely on coffee.

i’m tired. my feet hurt because every time i sit, El screams at me. my head hurts from her screaming. and now my stomach cramps because i, of course, both started my period, and have not had a moment to eat all day. i’ve broken down in tears nearly every night once i finally get El to sleep, because i don’t know how much more of this i can take.

tears well up in my eyes at this very moment, and it takes everything in me to hold back my own screams. not necessarily directed at my daughter, but just in frustration. i can’t think clearly. it’s nearing midnight and i’ve tried everything to get her to sleep, but she just keeps fighting it.

i know she’s tired, just like i am. she’s been up since five in the morning, which means so have i.

“i give up.” i cry out, burying my face in my hands, weeping into them in frustration and exhaustion. “i get it, El. you want your father. i know. please, i know.”

El’s cries pause and i peek through my fingers to see her watching me with a tilted head, before she bursts back into tears.

i steel my spine, wiping my own tears, and strengthening myself. i rise from the couch, scooping my daughter up, despite her smacks to my chest and pulls on my now-falling-out bun, and shuffle towards her bedroom.

going for the last ditch effort, i grab the hidden pacifier in her top dresser drawer, and pop it into her mouth before turning on the white noise machine in the corner and placing her in her crib.

i gaze down at her, watching as she yawns, tears still slipping from her eyes. her eyelids flutter closed before she pries them back open and stares back at me.

“Eleanor Elizabeth Hughes, you have to sleep.” i scold in a whisper.

retreating from the room, closing the door and listening for her wails; i nearly cry in relief when nothing comes. nothing but silence and the sound of the white noise.

my feet pad across the wooden floors as i walk to the kitchen, keeping an ear out for El’s possible whines. too drained to make myself anything sustainable, i settle for a yogurt cup and a cheese stick. bringing my snacks with me into Jack and i’s bedroom, i settle under the blankets.

i have no energy to put into paying attention to a show or movie, and not nearly enough to read a book; so i sit in silence, staring at the wall as i eat.

placing the now empty yogurt cup on my nightstand, i pick at the cheese stick, lost in thought.

i’m struggling.

i feel like a single parent half the time.

i’m not sure how actual single parents do it. the ones who have to work and take care of their children. because parenting in and of itself is a full time job.

i know it’s not fair of me to think so little of myself, but i can’t help feeling like a horrible mother. she never wants me anymore; only ever yearning for Jack.

and i get it. i yearn for him too when he’s gone.

but can’t she be happy with me?

i miss the sound of the front door shutting; too deep in my own head. too far gone in my own thoughts.

but i do hear the not-so-hushed whispers of my husband and his brother as they venture farther into the apartment.

i hear the ‘goodnight.’ from Luke before his bedroom door shuts. i hear the nursery door opening, the white noise from the room getting louder. and then a few minutes later, i hear the nursery door click shut and the sound of my husbands footsteps getting closer down the hall before our bedroom door opens.

my cheese stick is long gone, and my fingers now settle for playing with each other. my nails picking at the others as i still sit in a catatonic state of exhaustion; staring at the wall in front of me.

Jack lets out a breath of surprise when he notices i’m awake in the dim lighting of the bedside lamp.

“hey, lovie.” he leans down, his fists pressing down on the mattress top, and lays a swift kiss on my cheek before rising back up to his full height.

i glance over as he throws Eleanor’s pacifier onto his nightstand.

“i thought we agreed no more pacifiers when she turned one? she hasn’t had one in the past month.” he huffs, stripping his shirt off and throwing it towards the hamper in the corner of the bedroom, narrowly missing by an inch. he eyes the shirt for a millisecond before shrugging and repeating the process with his pants, this time making it in the hamper.

“yeah, well, you weren’t here to attend to her screams and i was.” i retort.

“so you resorted to the paci?” he questions, pulling a pair of flannel pajama pants out of his dresser drawer.

“stop mom-shaming me.” i snap, scooting down and flopping onto my side, my back facing Jack.

“lovie.” he sighs. the bed dips as he sits behind me. “that’s not what i was doing.”

“yes. you were.” i accuse. “you’re saying i’m a bad mom for giving my daughter what she needed in order to fall asleep.”

i turn in the bed to look up at him and he parts his lips to speak, but i keep going.

“but you weren’t here, Jack. you didn’t hear her cries, or have to try every trick in the book to calm her down. you weren’t awake with her for nineteen hours with no nap only to still have her fight bed time. so, yes, i resorted to the pacifier. and ya know what? it worked.”

“i get that you’re in a bad mood, but why are you taking it out on me? i wasn’t even here for you to get angry at me.” he remarks.

“i’m not.” i deny, closing my eyes and hoping he’ll take it as a sign to just let me sleep.

“you are.” he grunts. “and it makes me feel like i’m the bad guy for doing my job.”

“well, i wouldn't have to do this all alone if it weren't for your fucking job.” i know as soon as i say it that my words were uncalled for. but, before i can take them back, Jack stands from the bed, making my eyes fly open to look at him.

“do i not help when i’m home? i’m so sorry that me providing for our family is so hard for you.” he sneers. his sarcasm is not appreciated, and i sit up in the bed in anger. “i’m so sorry that you have to be a mother, while i’m gone making money so that you don’t have to work.”

i shuffle onto my knees on the bed, glaring daggers at my husband.

“when have i ever complained about being a mother? and when have i ever said that i don’t want to work? i never asked to stay at home! but it’s what i do, because not both of us can work without putting El in daycare. which you said you didn’t want to do.”

my finger juts at my chest before poking his. my words harsh in delivery, but quiet in attempt to not disturb the sleeping baby down the hall.

“i never once complained about being a mother. i love her.” i continue.

“are you implying that i don’t love her?” Jack fumes.

“i never said that!” i cry. “you’re putting words into my mouth!”

“i’m just trying to provide for us!” our attempted quiet is long forgotten now, and i can only hope that the white noise in El’s room is enough to mask our argument.

“you think i don’t know that?” i exclaim, he opens his mouth but i don’t let him get a word in. “i’m just saying that you don’t understand how exhausting it is being a single parent half the fucking hockey season! you leave and play games and go out to fucking bars to celebrate wins and i stay here and take care of our daughter, who for the past two weeks, only wanted you!”

Jack throws his hands up in the air, huffing in anger.

“well, i can’t help that! i get that it’s hard, but you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful. it’s part of my job to leave, y/n!”

of everything he’s said, it’s those words that cut me the deepest. and what hurts the most, as small as it may seem, is that within all of our fights, big or small, throughout our entire six years together, never once has he called me by my name while we fought.

it’s always ‘lovie’.

but suddenly, i’m ‘y/n’.

i lower myself onto my butt on the mattress. tears are streaming down my cheeks and i try to wipe them away before Jack can see them.

“now you’re gonna cry?” he lowers himself onto the bed and i push myself off of it in order to gain distance, now standing a couple feet away.

“i quit.” my voice is quiet and surrendered, my words sheltered. i watch as his face drops, lips parting in shock.

“what?” he mumbles, his eyes softening.

i shake my head, letting my tears flow freely now as i round the bed and i head toward the cracked open door.

“where are you going?” he questions, his tone still holding a dash of anger.

“to sleep in Luke’s room.” i reply. he calls after me but his words fall on deaf ears.

i need space.

i don’t bother knocking on Luke’s door, opening it to find him just now sitting down in bed, his hair wet and leftover steam drifting from his en-suite bathroom.

his head snaps over to the door as i close it, and at the sight of my tears, he pats the bed beside him.

a sob racks my chest as i crawl into bed with the boy i look at as a brother. he pulls me into his side, no words spoken between us as he rubs a hand over my hair, letting me cry into his chest and soak his plain white t-shirt.

a muffled cry escapes my lips and he squeezes me tighter, pressing a kiss to my scalp. nothing needs to be said, no words needed to be shared, just quiet shushes and his hand rubbing up and down my back, the other still holding my head tight to his chest in grounding.

i’m not sure how long passes before i cry myself to sleep, Jack’s words echoing on a loop inside my head.

‘you’d think you’d be a bit more grateful.’

***

i’m unsure what time it is when i awake, but Luke is gone from the bed, and the sun peeks through the bedroom window.

i know Luke and Jack have the day off, so if Luke is already up, then i must have slept in later than i usually do.

despite the apparent long sleep, i don’t feel as well rested as i should. my eyes flutter shut for a few moments, but at the sound of the familiar squeal of excitement from my daughter, drifting in through the crack in the door, my eyes fly back open.

i kick my legs free from the tangle of blankets and throw them over the side of the bed, peeling my tired body up off the mattress. i rub my eyes as i walk over to Luke’s bathroom, ignoring the mess amongst the counter and looking in the mirror.

my eyes are still red and puffy from crying, and i turn on the faucet, cupping my hands under the cold running water and splashing it on my face before drying it with the hand towel that’s thrown haphazardly on the counter.

exiting the bathroom and bedroom, i’m immediately met with the sight of El’s smiling face bounding down the hall. her chubby little legs wobble as she runs.

“mama! dada!” she squeals, motioning behind her. a grin overtakes my lips at her excitement.

“yeah? is dada home?” i ask with a laugh as she runs smack into my legs, reaching up with grabby hands.

my heart melts in my chest. for the first time in two weeks, she wants me.

“mama! dada!” she repeats as i hoist her up, lifting her above my head and rejoicing in her giggles.

my eyes are all too soon drawn to my husband at the end of the hall. he stands leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips while my own falls at the sight of him.

our fight replays in my mind; flashes of his red face and his defensive stance. echoes of his harsh tone and his cruel words.

Jack approaches us, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips, but i shift my face, his lips landing on my cheek instead. pulling back, his face falls, hurt shining in his eyes. it hurts me to see him upset, but i can’t bring myself to feel too bad, as i, too, am hurting.

i maneuver around him, padding down the hallway with El in my arms, making my way to the open layout of the living room and kitchen.

Luke is sat on the couch, eyes on his phone while Lilo & Stitch plays on the tv, and i flop down beside him. El crawls into his lap, pushing his phone out of the way and pushing her smiling face into his line of sight. i watch his eyes light up, sliding his phone into his pocket and tickling her sides.

a laugh escapes my lips as he lifts El upside down in front of his face, making her giggle contagiously. but once again, my lips fall back straight as Jack enters the room again.

the day continues like this, living amicably with Jack, but not happily. as the day goes on, the more i reflect on our fight the night prior, and the worse i feel. i was in the wrong. i knew that last night and i know it now.

i know leaving El is hard for him, just as taking care of her without him is hard for me. but my guilt doesn’t erase his words.

i know he didn’t mean it, just as he knows that i didn’t mean mine, but it still hurts. he cut deep. he accused me of being ungrateful, the very same thing he knows my parents called me when i told them i was moving out.

‘you’re so ungrateful. we offered you to keep living with us even after your graduation, and you’d rather move out with your unstable little boyfriend than live with the people who raised you. well, don’t come crawling back to us, we don’t take ungrateful children.’

a lump grows in my throat as i compare the fights. it’s nine at night and Jack is in El’s room, putting her to sleep, Luke long having retired to his own bedroom, leaving me alone on the couch. my knees are pulled up to my chest, my arms hugging them tight, as tears stream down my cheeks.

a small part of me tells me i should apologize. i know if i do, he will too. he already seems to want to move past it.

but the larger part of me says to wait. to let him apologize to me. to make him acknowledge that we fought. instead of brushing past it like it never happened.

Jack strides into the living room, child free, and it’s the first time we’ve really been alone together all day.

i avoid his gaze, rather wiping my tears and averting my eyes to the television, which still plays the credits of The Little Mermaid from our before bedtime movie.

he sighs, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. his hand reaches out to graze my leg and i flinch at the soft touch. the larger part of me wins and i rise from the couch, stalking off to our bedroom and away from him.

i quickly change into my pajamas, hoping to be out of the bedroom before he comes in, but i’m not so lucky.

he enters the room as i’m pulling my t-shirt over my head. my t-shirt. not his. he notices this change quickly and shakes his head.

he stands silently, his back leaning against the now closed door as i pull on sweatpants, watching my every move.

i move to the en-suite bathroom when i’m done. making quick work of washing my face and brushing my teeth. when i finally finish with my nightly routine, i head back out to the still blocked bedroom door.

Jack eyes me up and down, and a quick wetting of his lips tells me he’s horny, but i laugh inside at the thought.

does me angry and upset, turn him on? does he really think he has any chance of getting lucky tonight when he hasn’t even apologized?

“can you move?” i huff, crossing my arms.

“where are you going now?” he questions, shaking his head.

“Luke’s room. again.”

“you know we have a bed, right? the one you were in last night before you left me alone in here.” his words twist my heart, but i stand my ground.

“oh, you mean the same bed i was sitting in when you implied that i’m ungrateful and selfish?” i mock, tilting my head.

“lovie.” his tone is defensive enough to let me know that he doesn’t plan on apologizing tonight, so rather than waiting and hoping for Jack to move, i push him aside lightly with my shoulder and slip through the door.

i knock lightly on Luke’s door and it doesn’t take long for him to open it, letting me slip through into the room.

“you guys are still fighting?” Luke asks, shutting the door and walking over to sit on his bed.

“i promise, this is the last time i’ll sleep in your room. if we’re still fighting tomorrow night, i’ll sleep on the couch.” i assure him, crawling up the bed and laying on my side, facing him.

“i don’t have a problem with you sleeping in here, lovie.” he sighs, laying down on his side so that we lay face to face. “i’ve just never seen you guys fight like this, ya know? you guys are usually so in love, it just scares me to see you fight. i want the best for both of you.”

my eyes soften and i raise my hand, running it softly through Luke’s unruly curls.

“Lukey, i’m still madly in love with your brother. one fight isn’t gonna change that.” i tell him. “he said some things that hurt me. i said things that i’m sure hurt him too. but we’ll get through this. we love each other.”

i speak with assurance, but at this point, i’m not sure if i’m reassuring Luke, or myself.

“you should go to sleep, bubs. you have practice in the morning.” i press a kiss to Luke’s forehead before he turns his bedside lamp off and flops down on his side, his back now facing me.

i follow suit, my back facing Luke as i close my eyes and let myself drift to sleep.

***

i’m woken up by little hands smacking my cheeks, immediately followed by the sound of my husbands whispers.

“oh no, El, we don’t smack mommy. we’re gentle.” he tells her softly, and soon after, i feel her open mouth press against my cheek; her version of a kiss.

my eyes flutter open and i’m met by the smiling face of my daughter. she’s held hovering above me by Jack, who seems worried for my reaction.

“hi, baby!” i coo, a smile stretching over my lips as i take her from him. “good morning, beautiful!”

“mama!” she cheers, followed by a steady stream of babbling.

“she woke up a couple hours ago. she was looking for you.” Jack tells me. “i just changed her diaper, and she already ate breakfast, but i noticed she’s been chewing on everything this morning, so i threw a couple of her teething toys in the freezer and she’ll probably want a popsicle soon to sooth her gums.”

i look up at him and nod, acknowledging that i heard him, before i sit up and lay El down on the bed, tickling her tummy and listening to her joyous giggles fill the room.

“Luke and i are off to practice, we’re running late.” he runs his hand over El’s hair, leaning down and kissing her forehead before turning to look at me again. “Luke said he wants to take El to the park after we get back. he said for me to ask you if you can have her dressed and her diaper bag ready for when he and i get back.”

“yeah, i can do that.” i reply and he nods, pushing off the bed and laying a kiss on my own forehead before he leaves the room.

i heave out a sigh, looking down at El, who’s already looking up at me.

“you wanna go take a shower with mommy?” i baby talk, pasting a smile back on my face. she smiles right back, grabbing at my shirt. “yeah, you do. you love showers, don’t you? my little water baby.”

*

El is all dressed and ready to go when Jack and Luke arrive home, while i stick the last snack into her diaper bag.

“hey, lovie.” Luke chimes, throwing an arm around my shoulder and squeezing my head into his chest. “she ready?”

“mhm! she should be good to go.” i confirm as i push out of his hold, stuffing the bag into his arms instead. “you have the stroller, right?”

“yeah, i’m taking Jack’s car and it’s already in the trunk.” he confirms, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder and scooping his niece up from where she was already staring up at him by his legs.

“alright, say bye-bye to mommy and daddy!” Luke sings out, waving to us. El copies him, waving her entire arm about in order to wave goodbye, and with that, they’re out the door; leaving Jack and i in silence.

i busy myself by picking up the toys strewn about the living room floor, while Jack unloads the dishwasher. but tension lingers in the air.

maybe i should just apologize.

i hate this feeling.

i hate not being cuddled up with him right now.

we usually spend any El free hours curled up in our bed. napping, watching a movie, talking, or just taking part in general bedroom activities.

but instead, we’re across the room from each other, doing daily household chores and trying hard to avoid the screaming silence between us.

i drop a barbie into the toy box and stand up straight, looking towards my husband, who’s already staring at me with gentle eyes.

“i’m sorry.” i sigh, squeezing my eyes shut, holding my hands to my face. “i hate fighting.”

his hurried footsteps click against the wooden floors, stopping when he gets in front of me. his hands come up to mine, delicately pulling them away from my face before his arms encircle my waist.

“i hate it too.” he whispers, and i know his words hold a double meaning. he hates fighting and he hates leaving.

“i shouldn’t have said the things that i did. i shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you.” i let my head bob forward, my forehead laying against his chest. “i was tired, and i was angry at the situation, but not at you. never at you. you’re providing for our family, and i’m so glad that you get to do that by doing something you love.”

he kisses the top of my head, his lips lingering on my scalp.

“i’m sorry too.” he mumbles against me.

“i’m sorry for making it seem like i was mom-shaming you, i should’ve chosen my words more carefully. i’m sorry for making you feel bad. i’m sorry for accusing you of saying i don’t love her, i know that’s not what you were saying. and most of all, i’m sorry for implying that you were ungrateful. you’re not. i know you’re not. i should’ve never implied that you were.

“you’re an amazing mom, lovie. the best i could’ve ever hoped for El. i should’ve been more understanding about how hard it is for you to take care of her alone while i’m gone.”

i peer up at him, my chin still resting on his chest, and give him a pointed look.

“and i’m sorry for not calling you ‘lovie’.” he huffs out through a laugh. the corners of my mouth quirk up and i pull his head down to push our lips together.

my whole body melts even further into his, finally at peace for the first time in over two weeks.

[written-in-flowers]

Aegon ii Targaryen x wife smut please??

a/n: I got two more of the same, so I'm just putting them all together lol Hope you all like it as always <3 feedback is always appreciated <3

***

Okay, okay, so he's a bit drunk, but has that ever bothered you before? Stumbling into your chambers late at night, the heat from the alcohol reddened his pale cheeks and kept him from standing upright. A long night of hopping from tavern to tavern, groping serving women, gambling all his coin away, and watching two men brawl in the street, Aegon craved the comfort of his bed. His brain felt slightly fuzzy from the ale he'd piled himself with, and he leaned against the first piece of furniture he reached. He shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head, but this only made him dizzier.

"Rough night, my love?"

Aegon looked further into the chamber, where he saw the bath tub placed near the crackling fire. Your nakedness was the first thing he noticed. His eyes glued themselves to the tops of your breasts where the water surface began. Aegon fumbled with the clasp of his cloak, laughing softly at the sight of you. In his drunken haze, he'd forgotten the slight bump in the middle of the water. Your baby. His baby. The child you'd created together eight months ago swelled his wife's belly slowly but surely. The maester told him rigorous activity is to be avoided considering the princess's delicate condition, but Aegon could keep it gentle. Something about seeing you pregnant brought out a glow in you. It aroused him to see you full with his child; carrying the newest Targaryen born to his legacy. Another little dragonrider, like his brothers and sisters.

Four children later, and he still finds you to be the most desirable woman in all Seven Kingdoms. He might pinch a bottom or stare at naked breasts when in his eyeline, but no woman in the world compared to how you made him feel. Finally managing to discard his cloak, he tore off his stained shirt as he walked over to you. Messy, greasy waves of silver fell in his face, but he kept you in his sights.

"Nearly lost everything I had on me because a man got his second wind half way towards the end of a fight," he said, working on the strings of his breeches, but his fingers clumsily knotted them by accident. The heat of arousal started working its way through his lower half. "Then, I watched these two whores get into a fight over this old, fat lord who'd come walking in with pockets full of gold."

"So, it was exciting at least?"

"It was." He grunted to himself as he managed to undo the knot, "I wish you'd come. You haven't gone outside the keep in a long time." He snorted when he finally undid the lacings and tugged down the breeches. He saw your eyes twinkle at the sight of his flaccid dick. "I miss us going out together."

"You know I don't like leaving the keep when I'm pregnant," you said, your fingers trailing through the soapy water. "Besides, we have children now, Aegon. We can't run off into the city, frolicking around like two unhinged, shameless scoundrels anymore."

"I'd hardly call you a 'scoundrel'," he nearly fell down taking off his boots, but he kept himself firmly on the ground. Aegon specifically asked for a large tub when you finally married. He knelt beside the tub, using the edge to keep himself steady, "You were a goddess." He pushed hair from your face and stared at you fondly. "I remember the time we both went to The Blue Pearl, and we had sex with those Dornish twins?"

"Aegon," you giggled and patted his cheek, "How much have you had to drink?"

"Not enough that I can't get it up for you," he smirked, cupping your chin to kiss you. "I remember," he looked at you with lust in his eyes, "You laying right next to me as one girl kissed your lips and the other kissed your pretty cunt..." He briefly kissed you again. You never minded the wine or beer or ale on his lips. He put his hand in the lukewarm water, trying to find your thighs before asking, "Why is the water so tepid?"

"It's as hot as the maesters will allow."

"Dragons need heat," he said, running his hand on your belly. "Looks like you need me to keep warm."

"I'm pregnant, Aegon," you said between his kisses, "We're meant to take things gently."

"I'll give it to you gently, my love," he replied, pecking your lips. "Let me help you out. Our bed is warmer."

He lifted you to your feet, and removed the linen dress you'd worn into the tub. Your wet, naked body glistened in the fire light nearby. His eyes drank up the heavy curves of your body as it adapted to the new life growing inside you. Aegon brought you into his arms, slowly kissing you while he brought you towards the bed nearby. His body sobered up immediately at the possibility of bedding you. You rested back on the pillows, and he rested himself between your legs. He stayed bent over you, your belly keeping him at a distance, and kissed you deeply. He hardened when his hand found your breast, growing cold and hard from the recent change from warm to cold. He continued going down your neck to one nipple, and gave a soft peck.

"We did have some fun times, didn't we?" you sighed, running your hands in his hair while he started suckling your breast. "The horseback races are still my favorite."

"Especially when we're on the same horse," he said, "And my cock just happens to slide right inside you." He rolled his tongue over your hardened nipple, flicking it right over the center. "I don't think you ever came as hard or as quickly before."

"I couldn't help it," you giggled, grinding yourself into him so he whimpered on your skin. "Being in front of all those people, the horse galloping and bucking fast down the street, and having your hard cock buried in me...It felt even better when we stopped and you finished in me."

Aegon felt your sex brush lightly against his cock, and he couldn't help grinding back into you. Your lips found his again as you shifted around to grab him. It'd been too long. His body let him know that with how quickly the blood in his pumped through his member. He tried not fucking you during pregnancies, because they can be so delicate, but he can't help it tonight. Your breasts in his hands, your hand gliding over his shaft and your lips locked with his own, the fire inside him burned hot. Too hot. His tongue brushed up against yours as you opened your mouth for him; your soft moans went into his, and he replied with his own.

"The children?" he asked quickly, pecking at your chest again.

"All asleep," you told him. "Mya and I put them down hours ago."

This information encouraged him to go farther. Nothing ruined a moment more than being hilt-deep in your wife and one of your children barges in, crying about a nightmare. Aegon kissed down your body, stopping at the middle for extra kisses, before reaching the middle of your thighs. He ran his hands up and down them as he peppered kisses on your inner thighs. Your pussy, his favorite thing in the entire world, sat right in front of him. Aegon knew from the first time you made love that he'd never find another one like yours. He thought back to those Dornish twins, who lapped and sucked your clit while he slid his dick into your mouth. You two had many fun excursions into sexual deviance together, but nothing compared to a nice one-on-one with the light of his life. Finally, he ran his tongue over the very center when he felt you shudder in his hands. Your belly kept him from seeing your expressions, but this didn't matter. It was your sounds that aroused him. Aegon gyrated against his mattress while he traced his tongue lightly over each fold, before taking it in his mouth to suck on lightly. Every brush on the soft sheets made him groan into you, vibrating around your throbbing clit each time. Soon, he tasted your slick, juices on his tongue and went faster.

He then heard you giggle and looked up, "What? Are you not feeling anything?"

"No, no, keep going," you insisted, pushing his head down. "I was remembering the first time Mother caught you doing this to me..."

"Oh," he chuckled, getting back to business, "So do I. She was horrified. You'd think she'd never seen it before."

"To be fair," you sighed, eyes closed and head into the pillows, "I was sitting on the window ledge naked where anybody could see or hear me."

"That's what made it fun though," he smiled, kissing your soaked sex again. "I recall the sweet little noises you made while I did it," he hummed on you, "And how hard you came right when she walked in." He slipped a finger inside you without warning, which made you jerk for a moment before adjusting to his finger, "I also remember my jaw hurting after that."

"Well, if you'd been honest and told me that you had no idea what you were doing," you said, "We wouldn't have had that problem."

"I definitely know what I'm doing now, though, don't I?" He added a second finger and began pumping them into you while his thumb rubbed your clit. "Don't I, Wife? Don't I?"

"Yes, yes, you do!"

So much so it resulted in multiple pregnancies. Aegon continued humping the bed while fingering you. He listened to your whimpers and cries whenever he stopped, taking a break with his hand and using his mouth on you instead. He thought back to the first time he tasted you. He'd seen two women doing it in a brothel, and wanted to do it to you. It'd been your idea to do it on the window. He'd spent ages figuring out which spots made you squeal; what spots had you whimpering and begging him to stay there and keep going. When you finally climaxed, he didn't even notice his mother there. Aegon had been too caught up in his own satisfaction to care; right then, he knew he'd never want another one. He'd only crave yours.

The moment he couldn't take his own teasing anymore, he knelt in front of you and aligned himself with your body. He looked down to see you panting, licking your lips and pleading with him. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight before. In a swift movement, Aegon slid himself into your hole all the way to the base. Pinned deep inside you, he remained there a few seconds to enjoy your pussy throbbing. Your walls hugged his length, as if pulling him further in, and he could feel your clit wetting the pubic patch above. He loved every second of it. Aegon swore he could cum simply staying inside you long enough. But, judging by your winding hips, he knew what you wanted...what you needed. The last time had been so quick and so long ago, he wanted to take his time. He kept a gradual, gentle speed while he rubbed your clit with his hands: both his thumbs kept rubbing over it one after the other, massaging and keeping it hard while he rocked back and forth. As much as he enjoyed watching you squirm, he really wished to pound you into the bed.

"Do you still enjoy it?" you asked, pulling him down to you for a kiss.

"Enjoy what?" he asked in your kiss, "What? This?"

"Yes..."

"Of course, I do," he hooked his arms under your shoulders, bringing you even closer, and began bottoming up into you. "I love nothing more, in all fairness." He kissed along your jaw to your ear, "Why? Did you suddenly stop liking this?"

"I've had four children, Aegon."

"So?"

"Mother says it loosens up over time," your head tilted back as he started picking up his pace, "I worry...I worry one day I might not be tight enough-"

"-Trust me," he laughed, eyes closing as your pussy clenched him, "You are plenty tight for me, my love. Always have been. You'll get no complaints from me."

Staying pressed against you, looking at your face and kissing you, both of you came together. Your fingers intertwined with his at your sides, and your legs went around his waist to bring him even closer. The only time Aegon ever felt close to anyone; the only time his heart and mind became one with another person was when he was with you. All thoughts of his drunken night in King's Landing faded away at the arrival of your trembling, shaking, hard orgasm. You chanting his name as he kept the right rhythm was better than any tune a bard can sing. Aegon withdrew in time to avoid finishing within you, letting it spill onto your thigh inside while he buried his face into the pillow to muffle his groans.

The post-orgasm glow came in the form of soft kisses and cuddling naked on the bed. He'd clean you up later, of course, but right then he wanted to hold you. You two did not have moments like this very often; there's usually a child nearby or about to come around the corner for something. So, for the moment, Aegon soaked up whatever bit of you he can before morning.

"When I have the baby," you said, watching him fight off sleep to look at you, "We should go into town together like we used to. I'll put on my peasant girl clothes, and we can run amok as we did when we were younger." You smiled, "Maybe go on another horse ride together?"

"Or visit The Blue Pearl," he added, eyes half-open. "Those twins probably aren't there, but gods they had good wine and pretty girls."

"And boys."

"And boys."

You pecked his lips one final time as the pair of you drifted off to sleep. He'll regret the drinking in the morning, when he's surrounded by his children at breakfast, but he wouldn't regret fucking you. He never did. ****

A/N: yaaay more Aegon content! I really like writing dad!Aegon, so I'll probably do more of him.

[cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond]

Indiana Jones x Fem!Reader and The Crusade for a Cleanup

Even the most outstanding archaeologist can struggle to keep up some cleanliness without a loving reminder...

"Out of silverware, again."

You sigh. It felt like every day, a new utensil, cup, bowl or mug seeming vanished into the great beyond. Now the cupboards were looking scarce enough that you'd probably end up eating out of the pots with the spatulas you cooked with. Pushing the drawer shut, you'd fold your arms and tap your manicured index fingertip against your elbow in a moment of thought.

It was time to enter the lion's den to get your dishes back so you could have a proper meal on a real plate.

Your bare feet softly cross the polished wooden floor of the kitchen, out into the hall in front of a closed door. With the gentle rapping of your knuckles against the wood, you'd listen to the hasty, panicked shuffling of a man who was suddenly jerked out of his state of focus. A soft thud resonated from the room as his panicked footsteps were ushered to the door by the sound of your knocking.

"Y/N," Indiana would crack open the door, looking down at you with a frazzled appearance. His glasses were off kilter on his nose bridge, his hair was a little greasy from forsaking his hygiene due to being absorbed into his research, sticking up in awkward tufts in areas. "Is there anything you need? I-I'm a little busy right now but if you need me to do something, I can carve out a chunk of time and-"

"Where are my dishes, Indy? The forks, spoons, plates, glassware... even the handmade mug you gifted me after your trip to Peru is missing." You quirked a brow as Indiana awkwardly scratched the back of his head, coming to give you a sheepish grin.

"I'll bring them right out, Y/N, I'll just need to..."

He started to murmur under his breath as he began to push the door closed again with a shifty gaze. A well-timed insertion of your foot put a stop to it as you gently nudged past the out-of-order archaeologist into his 'nest', as you called it.

By God, it was a mess. Dishes piled high on top of different books and papers scattered across the room on his wardrobe, his dressers - even on his floor. His face flushed with red at your observant gaze as you took in the state of his workspace.

Indiana sputtered for a moment as he rubbed his slightly stubbled chin in deep thought, before exasperatedly sighing. "I-I just.. forget them, y'know? I've been so busy trying to research the history of Mount Sinah that it all-"

Your finger would press against his lips as you shushed him. "I don't need to hear your reasons why, i'm not mad, Indy. I get it, you're a busy man, but a man like yourself doesn't need to be working in such squalor. It's bad for your health."

He'd remain silent, watching you with a thankful expression as you started gathering the cups, plates and forks he let gather dust in his workroom. After a moment of quiet from his end he'd start to move to pick up his messes as well, motivated by your desire to help him gather a sense of order. Ceramics and silverware clinked and clacked together as you both carried a pile of dishes back into the kitchen, before you would plug the drain and starting to run some warm water to let the dishes soak for a moment.

He seemed grateful. While you stood with your elbows braced on the edge of the sink as you watched the sudsy water gradually rise, his arms would snake around your waist as his chin found a spot on the top of your pulled back hair.

"Thank you for keeping me grounded, Y/N. I don't know what i'd do without you."

[screamingoverfiction]

Birdie

I don't really know what this is. Basically, my 3am fever dreams, fluff, filthy smut, descriptions of gore, and a whole lot of angst. Reader discretion is heavily advised. Canon Typical Violence. Ghost (mw2) x !f-reader, callsign Sparrow. I'm going to start working on some requests after this!

Word Count: 3.3k

She could see nothing but black. The cloth around her eyes prevented her vision. Her hands were bound behind her with a rope that dug into her wrists. Her legs were tied to the metal chair she was strapped to.

All she could hear was the faint buzz of an old lamp and the light dripping water.

Her throat was dry and screaming for water. Her lungs felt like someone lit them on fire and then stomped it out repeatedly. Her chest struggled for every breath, her body forcing itself to breathe, to stay alive.

She heard a metal door creak open, then slam shut. Heavy footsteps came closer, and she pushed herself against the chair, craning her body away.

Someone harshly ripped her blindfold down her face, and a firm hand grabbed her cheeks, forcing her to look at them.

"So you're the little bitch who sniped five of my men," The man said, saliva flying from his lips and splattering on her face when he spoke.

He looked about 45, with dark hair, a greasy face, and a full mustache. His hair was greying in some places, and his features were powerful and intimidating.

She kept her chin high, refusing to let him scare her. She stared daggers into his eyes, mustering as much saliva as she could and spitting it directly in his face.

The man flinched, slowly wiping his face and looking at his hand before snapping his eyes back to hers.

Before she could even blink, his palm collided with her cheek, her face reeling to the side, blood spurting from her mouth.

"We know who you work for. Does Captain Jonathan Price sound familiar? Seargent John Mactavish? Sergeant Kyle Garrick? What about Lieutenant Simon Riley?" The man hissed, grabbing her face again, searching her eyes for any signs of recognization.

"Trained in resisting torture, eh? Well, you'll be spitting names at my feet when we're done with ya," He sneered, harshly releasing her cheeks and standing up, looking behind him at two men who'd just entered the dimly lit room.

She swallowed thickly, straightening her posture as much as she could, glaring maliciously at the men.

The dark-haired man stood at the front of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark with fury. He opened his mouth and said two final words before exiting the room.

"Break her,"

-

"Four down, I've got a shot on one more," Sparrow spoke into her radio, keeping her sniper aimed at the final man, awaiting her call.

"Take the shot," Ghost's stern voice said through the coms.

"Copy that, Lt." She replied with a smirk, taking a moment to realign her shot before her finger squeezed the trigger.

The man fell, and on his way down, he knocked over a bunch of barrels, creating a loud ruckus.

Sparrow's eyes went wide, and she immediately ducked under cover, trying to hide away from the men who'd surely start looking for a sniper.

"Fuck. He went down with a bang, Ghost," Sparrow whispered, anxiously waiting for her orders.

"Dammit, get out of there, and don't let them see youleave your sniper it'll only weigh you down," Ghost replied swiftly.

"Copy," Sparrow answered, unhooking her sniper and setting it off to the side, covering it with a black blanket.

She quickly unsheathed her pistol, moving through the small building with precision and stealth.

Her heart stopped when she heard footsteps coming from the exit. At least two men speaking in Russian, which was never a good sign.

She took a deep breath and waited for one to open the door, but suddenly, a third man jumped through the window beside her, knocking her pistol from her hands and kicking her in the chest.

Knowing that there was little she could do now except scream. So that's what she did. She screamed as loud as she could, hoping to alert Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Price, or anyone in the surrounding area.

"GET THE FUCK OFF ME! HELP! SOMEONE HELP! FUCK YOU GET OFF ME!" She shouted, kicking and screaming, punching and spitting, fighting her captures as hard as she could until a she felt a syringe in her neck.

-

Ghost's ears immediately perked up at the sound of distant screams. Deep down, he hoped he was hearing things, but he knew right then that Sparrow had been caught.

The color drained from his face, and he jumped up, looking out over his cover to try spotting her, but the screams had gone quiet. His heart sank into his stomach. And he had to grip the concrete to keep himself from falling over. He couldn't think of anything but her and how he'd said to take the shot.

He felt like throwing up, but he knew he had to inform the team before he went out on his own to try and murder every single one of those men.

"T-They got Sparrow," He managed to stammer, surprising even himself at the rawness of his voice. His radio crackled, but no voice responded until a moment after.

"Is she KIA?" Price asked, maintaining a professional voice but inside, he was terrified.

"I don't know. I doubt they'd give up a chance at intel," Ghost responded, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Just- get back to extraction. We'll regroup there,"

-

Ghost wouldn't speak to anyone. He wouldn't sit, wouldn't eat, wouldn't drink. The only time he did anything was when he yelled at Price.

"Simon, we trying-"

"Then fucking try harder! It's been three fucking days, John! She's either dead or wishing she was, and what are you doing? Having a cup of fucking coffee and laughing with Laswell!" Ghost shouted, pointing at Price venomously. Behind his balaclava, his eyes were bloodshot and sleepless, showing the constant anxiety he'd been plagued with.

Price swallowed, clenching his jaw angrily.

"Get back to your courters, Riley," He demanded, knowing Ghost was only saying these things out of anger and fear.

Ghost walked past Price, slamming the door on his way out, the hinges rattling against the frame.

Soap was standing outside the room, seemingly aged ten years in three days. His eyes locked briefly with Ghost's as he furiously exited the room.

Ghost didn't stop as he strode through the base and down the hallway toward his room. His mind raced with anger toward Price and sickening guilt. He knew he shouldn't have told her to shoot.

He reached his room in a flurry of madness, throwing open the door and almost breaking the wood as it crashed shut.

He grabbed the first thing he saw, an old water cup on his dresser, and threw it against the wall, the glass shattering into millions of pieces.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating behind the mask. His lungs were in a cramped and ever-shrinking dark room, clawing the air from his body.

He reached up and ripped the mask off, throwing it down to the floor and sinking to his knees, hands covering his face as he resisted the urge to scream.

He'd called her little bird, or when it was just the two of them, his little bird. She was the one he'd go to when the words he kept inside continued to feast on his thoughts until he couldn't take it anymore.

There was a warm, soft spot in his cold heart specially reserved for her. She somehow managed to weasel her way past all his coldness and closed-off nature. He still didn't quite know how. Her smile, her laugh, the way she'd roll her eyes when he'd crack one of his infamous dark jokes.

She'd earned her nickname because of her tendencies to chirp and how she could snipe without ever being noticed, well, mostly. She was a dreamer, a singer, a Sparrow, and she was always optimistic unless you tried to speak to her before 8am.

There was never a dull day when she was around. Maybe that's why Ghost has only seen in grey since she's been gone.

His hands shook against his face, and the urge to claw his eyes out was immense. He wanted to take his pistol and aim it in his mouth, but the chance that she was still alive was what fueled his fury.

He needed to save her, even if it killed him.

-

Blood trickled down her hands, dripping from her fingertips and splattering into the pool on the floor.

She'd lost track of the days. Nothing mattered anymore. If she could will herself to die, she would.

The one thing that kept her sane was him. His crooked smirk and those pretty brown eyes. God, how she would die for those eyes.

Keeping sane throughout the hours of unendurable torture was agonizing. But she would replay their memories in her mind, trying to ignore the hot burning rods they kept prying into her chest.

When he'd taken off his mask in front of her.

It was late at night, and everyone else on base was fast asleep or desperately counting sheep in an attempt to.

Sparrow couldn't sleep, nightmares plagued her dreams, and she was afraid to close her eyes. So she lay there awake, thinking about him, of course.

Almost as if on cue, there was a knocking at her door. A small smile twitched on her lips, and she sat up, pulling her covers off and hurriedly walking to her door.

She took a deep breath before turning the knob, her smile widening when she saw Ghost standing outside.

He wore a simple balaclava, a dark t-shirt that exposed his muscular, tattooed arms, and grey sweatpants.

"Couldn't sleep?" She teased, opening the door wider and letting him walk inside.

"Well, looks like you couldn't either since you were eagerly awaiting my knock," Ghost replied, his eyes scanning the familiar space.

"Ha-ha, very funny," She sneered, quietly closing the door and turning around to face him.

When she faced him, she nearly jumped back in shock, her eyes growing wider.

There he stood, maskless, those tired brown eyes looking into hers, a subtle fear behind them. His hair was short darkish blond, and his face bore powerful handsome features. Scars littered his skin, but it didn't matter, he was the most beautiful thing in the world, and it scared her.

Sparrow's hands quickly came up to cover her eyes. Her mind couldn't process what was happening. He couldn't have just shown his face. It would make it all too real.

"Sparrow," Ghost said, reaching out and trying to pull her hands away, but she just shook her head.

"Sparrow," He tried again, voice growing softer. His hands traveled to her forearms, fingers grazing along the skin.

"Y/n," He whispered, finally making her lower her hands. Her eyes locked with his once again.

"I thought you didn't want this to be real," She asked, reaching up, cupping his face in her hand, thumb brushing over his cheek.

"Guess I lied," He replied smoothly, leaning down and softly pressing his lips to hers.

If you'd looked at the two of them in private, you wouldn't believe they'd never kissed. Never slept together. But they hadn't, neither one wanted anything real, and the proposition of 'just for fun' didn't sound appealing.

Sparrow kissed him back, keeping her hands on his face. His lips were soft and rough at the same time. He tasted like minty toothpaste and tea. His hands trailed down her waist, securing themselves around her hips.

Their kiss was full of yearning and passion. They were making up for all the lost moments.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do this," Ghost groaned against her lips, snaking his hands on the backs of her thighs and hoisting her up.

Sparrow wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles. She didn't break away from his lips, drunk on his lips.

Ghost carried her toward the bed, placing her down on the mattress and hovering over her, lips still hungrily kissing hers.

His hands traveled beneath her shirt, hesitating.

"Take it off," She breathed lustfully against his lips, her hands grazing over his clothed abdomen.

Ghost practically ripped her shirt off, his lips leaving hers to give attention to her newly exposed breasts, lips attaching to her sensitive nipple.

"Oh, fuck, Ghost-" Sparrow started to groan, but Ghost quickly cut her off

"That's not my name, birdie," He murmured, raising his lips and kissing the skin below her ear, causing a soft whimper to escape her lips.

"Simon," She whispered, reaching up and lacing her fingers in his short blond locks, gasping from the hickeys he marked on her collarbone.

Simon hummed devilishly, smirking against her skin and scattering even more love bites.

"Atta' girl," He said lowly, taking the hem of his shirt in one hand and swiftly pulling it over his head.

Y/n almost drooled at the sight of his toned muscles, prominent v-line, scars from battle littering his skin, and a faint happy trail leading down to the place her core desperately desired.

Simon lowered his body, hooking his fingers in her pants and pulling them down her legs, tossing them off the bed.

He wasted no time in doing the same with her panties, prying her legs back apart when they tried to snap shut out of embarrassment.

"Ah, ah, I wanna see my pretty little bird's cunt splayed out for me," He said darkly, dropping his mouth to her clit, tongue sliding inside her entrance.

Y/n had to clasp her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out in pleasure, her legs wrapping around his neck while he ravenously devoured her.

Simon held his hands on her thighs, keeping them spread as he continued working his tongue inside and outside her core, hitting the perfect nerves every time.

Waves of euphoria washed through her in swarms, her eyes rolling into her skull from the pure ecstasy that radiated through her body.

"Oh fuck, Simon, I'm gonna-" She started, but her sentence was cut off when he flicked his tongue, making her gasp.

"That's it, Y/n, cum on my tongue. I want to taste you," He breathed, working his mouth against her clit until her legs shook around his neck, and she cried out. Her orgasm coursed through her like a tsunami of bliss. Her eyes rolled, and she arched further into him, whimpering at the overstimulation.

Simon greedily lapped up her liquids like he was starved, only pulling away to raise his body over hers, crashing their lips back together.

"Fucking hell," He murmured, eagerly kissing her deeper.

Y/n hurriedly reached for his pants, her fingers hooking in the hemming and pulling them down his legs. His erection tented in his boxers, yearning to be touched.

Their lips met in another sloppy kiss, too caught up in the moment to care.

He quickly pulled his boxers off, groaning when the tip brushed against her already slick entrance.

"Simon," She whispered, her fingers tightly lacing in his blond hair, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Y/n," He replied in an equally quiet tone, slowly pushing himself inside.

The stretch was magnificent. She'd never fucked someone so big. The pain was soon replaced with redoubtable pleasure as he started to thrust.

Y/n nails dug into his shoulders, her moans of pure euphoria swallowed by Simon.

His arm moved upward, placing it beside her head to steady himself as he continued thrusting, hitting her g-spot with every steady himself.

"Oh fuck, it's like your cunt was made for me," Simon moaned, the guttural sound coming from the back of his throat, snapping his hips against hers, the sounds of slapping skin echoing throughout the room.

Her back arched into him, their chest pressing together as she became a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him.

"Fuck, you make such pretty noises. I'm gonna ruin you," He groaned, grasping one of her legs and hoisting it over his shoulder, deepening t the angle of his thrusts.

Soon enough, that familiar coil welled up inside her core once again, heightening her moans.

"Simon, fuck! Don't stop, please don't stop," She begged, whimpering below him, tears of pleasure rolling down her cheeks.

Simon groaned as her walls clenched around his cock, her orgasm spasming through her even more intense than the first time. He came not long after, her cunt squeezing around him, milking his cock dry.

She cried out as the waves overcame her, back arching into him, nails dragging down his shoulders and back, certainly leaving marks.

In the moments after their highs, not much was said nor done, just quick rapid breaths, trying to regain themselves, and short kisses, still chasing the flavor of the other.

Simon carefully pulled away, reaching over the side of her bed to collect their clothing, pulling his boxers on before helping her into his shirt.

After Y/n had successfully reclothed herself and gone to the bathroom(Simon carried her), she collapsed back onto her bed, sighing tiredly and closing her eyes.

When she didn't feel or hear Simon next to her, she opened an eye to find him simply admiring.

"You coming?"

He said nothing more as he slid under the covers next to her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her warmly.

"Is this real?" He whispered against her lips, protectively holding her as though she might slip away at any given moment.

"It is,"

Simon smiled.

Y/n sighed comfortingly against his lips, resting her forehead against his as she closed her tired eyes, awaiting the sweet kiss of sleep.

-

Her eyes were forced open by a blinding light- a flashlight. Well, that was new. Maybe they were going to do some sort of light torture next.

Her eyes tried to adjust to the new light, craning her head back instinctively when the figure walked over-no they were running-sprinting. That can't be good.

She whimpered in pain when they gently touched her face, and their hand immediately retreated back.

Her eyes finally adjusted to the light, just in time for her ears to start picking up noise as well. She heard the sound of a knife against a rope, and then she saw him.

An immense feeling of relief washed over her body at the sight of the masked man cutting her free. Tears welled in her eyes, and she started to cry.

He wore his hard shell skull mask and tactical gear, yet he worked so tenderly against her bonds.

When her limbs were finally free, she collapsed forward, but he caught her, wrapping his arms around her figure and lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

Tears of solace streamed down her cheeks. Sobbing into his chest, she did her best to hug him in her weak state, which probably looked and felt pretty pathetic.

"I know, birdie. It's alright now. I've got you," He whispered, his voice lulling her back into an exhausted sleep, despite the desperate, muffled voices she continued to hear.

-

Beeping, lots and lots of beeping. Hospital. Medic. Torture. Injuries. Soap. Ghost. Someone's hand was in hers. Simon. Twitch.

Simon's eyes opened at the slight movement of her hand. Then her fingers curled upwards until they locked with his.

Her eyes slowly and groggily opened, still glossy and hazed with sleep, but Simon could still see relief wash over her.

"Simon?" She whispered, voice raspy and breaking from screaming out in pain.

"Hey there, birdie," He said back, a small smile twitching on his lips, his eyes red from not sleeping.

"Is this real?" She questioned, blinking at him as if he might disappear, her hand tightening its grip on his.

Simon smiled again, standing up and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, brushing her hair back.

"It's real,"

Y/n smiled.

I love you all and I hope you enjoyed! &lt;3

[bruhaalla]

| forgive me ?

| anakin x reader angst with a little of bit of fluff at the end

| summery: You found out anakin has been texting other females and when you questioned him about it he got angry in results of him slapping you and you leaving (a very short little blurb)

But i thought you loved me ?” I say my face burning in pain from the slap

“I could never love a women such as you so clingy and mentally attached- so needy”

he spat i looked up at him with such confusion and hurt he looked at me with such disgust, i turn my head to the side no longer able to bear looking at him. i start heading towards the front door

“if you leave you can never come back “ he spat, anger laced in his words

“ I would never come back anyways” I say using his own words against him

“So we will see you can never stay away we both know that” he laughs

And he’s right we both know it, and that's what hurts even more. I just attract to him like two molecules floating around in the universe. Never able to leave each others side.

Two weeks passed

I lay on my friends Sara’s couch legs stretched looking up at the ceiling trying to clear my mind but no matter how hard I keep trying it always goes back to anakin

Sara calls out my name “yeah Sara is everything okay “ I say “I think” she says her voice sounds concerned I get up off the couch and walk to where she is and there I see it

His plump lips his glossy eyes that gorgeous curly brown hair it’s anakin my heart stops

“I’ll leave you guys to be” Sarah says walking away

“What are you doing here” I say coldly not wanting him to know what his presence is doing to me I feel upset but happy all at once

“Sweet heart please come home to me” he says sadness laced in his voice

I now scan over his face he looks Executed his eyes are droopy he has dark circles all under is eyes his lips looks chapped and dry I now realize how greasy and dirty his hair is he looks like he hasn’t bathed in weeks and he has a little stubble i stifle a laugh not realizing he’s still talking

“Are you laughing at me he asked” now a litte upset

“Huh” I asked now realizing he was still talking

“So me trying to express how sorry I am is funny he says now glaring” he starts to walk away from the door

“Anakin wait I’m sorry I wasn’t laughing at you”

“So tell me you want me sweetheart tell me you still love me and we can fix this” he has a pleading look in his eyes

“Anakin”I sigh “ what is there to fix you told you don’t love me” I say trying to hold back a cry

“ baby I didn’t mean those words you know I didn’t it was just the heat of the moment” he says he moves to fingers to my chin to pull my face to look at him

“Tell me right here right now you don’t love me anymore and I’ll walk away I’ll never bother you again but I need to hear it from you”

“Anakin I-I love you” I say regretting it as soon as it came out

“Do you really sweetheart? Because if you give me one more chance I’ll never mess up again”

He slowly moves his hand to the part of my face he remembers slapping I flinch slightly remembering last time

His fingers brush against my cheek softly “so sorry baby promise to never hurt you again” he says softly “do you forgive me”

“Yes anakin I forgive you” “ can I kiss you” he ask I push my lips against his I can feel how dry and chapped his lips are but I melt into him softly I run my fingers through his hair he lets out a soft whimper

“Mhm” I hear behind us and turn and see Sara we pull away blushing “ sorry to break up this lovely moment but I have to go to work” she giggles

“ I have to take this lovely lady home anyway” Anakin says kissing my head

[annadoingshitpoorly]

Abby Anderson SFW/NSFW Headcanons

Minors DNI

(Requests are open btw, just so you know x)

Abby Anderson x Fem! Reader

Just some brain rot that I want to move to make room for more important information aka work is a lot at the minute and I’m too tired to write anything of great sustenance.

• She’s always found over-the-top public displays of affection to be highly embarrassing to witness as an outsider, so she refuses to call you anything that isn’t your name or babe in public. In private, however, there are so many terms of endearment for you, everything from babygirl and princess to snugglebug and muffinbuns.

• ABIGAIL ANDERSON IS A CUDDLE MONSTER. 

• When she gets off from patrol she assumes position on the couch, slumped exhausted across it, and makes grabby hands at you until she has you leaning against her chest with your legs sprawled over hers. And although she hates how much shit she gets from Manny for falling asleep like that (at least once a week) she can’t help but smile at the cute little noises you let off when snuggled into her side.

• If she can go without a bra, she will. But she will acknowledge how the sports bra she works out in gives her great support.

• When she’s in public with you, there’s always a hand on your thigh. Sitting next to you on the truck, one hand on her knee and the other on your thigh. 

• Abby keeps a photograph of you in the inner chest pocket of her coat, and when seasons change and she changes her wardrobe, the last thing she puts away is her coat so she can grab the photo and instantly change it into the matching pocket of her new seasonal wear.

• This might be a little bit TMI, but Abby loves it when you’ve not showered for a couple days and your hair is a little greasy, slightly oily skin and you're just generally not squeaky clean. She finds your aura of “it’s a fucking apocalypse, women are gonna be stinky too goddamn it” absolutely enthralling, especially after a long workout and you come into her room to relax and cool down after it.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'(*)'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

• As much as Abby loves eating you out, she can be a selfish bitch at times most of the time. She loves having you down on your knees, one leg thrown over your shoulder with one hand wrapped into your hair to guide your movements and the other palming at her own tits. Pressed up against the wall, her thrusting into your mouth until you push her hips back against the flat surface giving you more control over her pleasure.

• I know most people see Abby as like a top, but you cannot convince me that she isn’t the switchiest of switches, 

• Abby is happy when you're happy, such a pretty little service switch.

• Abby Anderson is an underwear thief and can’t even bring herself to deny it, you ask her one day about all of the pairs of underwear you think they might’ve lost down in the laundrette, and she admits then and there to having stolen them.

You rustle through the drawer again, neatly folded pairs of socks are left abandoned on the ground next to a couple of t-shirt bras and sports bras as your mind is racked with confusion. Standing again at full height as the door behind you opens and closes, your gaze meets Abby’s.

“Hey, is something wrong?” Sarcasm exudes from her mouth as she grins at the state of the floor.

Not noticing her tone, you look at the various garments strewn about the place. “Uh, well… I think that they may have accidentally lost some of my underwear down in the laundry, all I have right now is dirty or I’m wearing it…”

“Nope, they’re in my place, cupcake and you’re not getting them back.” Arms folded, she sits down on your bed and leans back to watch your face. 

“Babe… how the fuck did you get all of my underwear?!”

“A lady never reveals her secrets.”

• When you come around at night to hers, she always leaves one the sports jerseys she wears to the gym during the winter and a spare pair of her boxers underneath the pillow that you sleep on, as she sleeps with her window open during the summer she knows you’ll get cold and eventually slip into whatever extra layers you can grab in your semi-conscious state. This was discovered accidentally but is most definitely done on purpose by her now. Seeing how the boxy men’s cut clothing hugs your rolls and curves does something absolutely abominable to her, turning her completely feral so that she comes up behind you as you cook and slips a hand into the front of the boxer briefs to finger fuck you from behind while she’s left grinding herself into your hips.

[blueicequeen19]

Back with more JJ smut. He’s working on the Twinkie while you watch. Something about seeing him working with tools, muscles in his arms flexing, look of concentration on his face just really turns you on. He’s standing at the front bent over not paying attention, so you roll over to him and quickly unfasten his shorts and just start teasing him

Hot Blonde

I lick my lips, unable to tear my gaze from my hot boyfriend. He was bent over working on something on the Twinkie for John B while wearing no shirt. I could practically see each drop of sweat sliding down his abs as he worked. The muscles in his arms were bulging and tight. I could see every vein and tight muscle. His shorts were hanging dangerously low on his hips and I longed to trace that prominent V with my tongue. His happy trail even seemed appealing. I wanted to lick him everywhere. He was one hot blonde.

I took a big drink of my ice lemonade before pushing my boobs up in my bikini top then I made my way over to him. He deserved a break.

“Hey, babe. Everything going okay?” I asked, offering him my drink which he gladly accepted.

“Yea, I shouldn’t be too much longer.” JJ panted between long drinks of the ice cold lemonade. He swiped his hair from his face with the back of his hand and left a trail of black grease. I giggled as he finished off my drink.

“You look tense, baby. Maybe I can help with that.” I purred, pressing myself to his chest and his greasy hands immediately went around my waist, teasing the strings of my bikini bottoms.

“Later, needy girl. I gotta get this done for Bree.” JJ gulps before I lift up on my toes to give him a passionate kiss. The bulge pressing against my stomach told me that later just wouldn’t do.

“You keep working. I’ll take care of you, baby. I promise.” I drop to my knees with the Twinkie at my back and position his hips so they’re face me. He gives a nervous laugh before looking around then watches me undo his shorts and free his erection from his boxers.

“Ahh, you’re so hard, J. He missed me, see?” I lick the underneath of the head and he jerks, gripping the van behind me.

“Don’t tease. Get on with it.” JJ breathes, his hair in his eyes as he looks down at me.

“Get to work. Can’t make John B wait forever.” I wait till I hear him pick up his tools again and I take him into my mouth. I bob quickly, taking him as far back as I can without gagging. I hear a string of curse words and his legs shake as I suck harder. I grip his ass, holding him to me as I push past my gag reflex and deep throat him. I swallow and he groans loudly, dropping his tools.

“Just like that. Don’t stop, baby. I’m gonna fill up that pretty little mouth.” JJ rasps and it spurs me on further. I cup his balls, slurping and sucking until he tenses, signaling his release. He spills down my throat, his hips jerking each time I swallow. A deep, sexy moan leaves his mouth and then he’s yanking me to my feet.

“Jesus fucking Christ. You’re gonna suck the life out of me.” JJ pants, pinning me against the van as he kisses me breathless. I place my hands against his chest and gently push back.

“Hurry up so you can return the favor.” I wink, letting him enjoy the view of my ass as I walk away.

[seoulcheonsa]

Habit

Xu Minghao (SVT) as Theodore x fem!reader Tags: vampire!, a little angst, some crack, a bit of fluff, implied smut (MDNI! PLEASE!) WC: 2.1k Warnings: just implied smut, a lot of cursing, and mentions of alcohol. (lmk if i missed anyth !)

Her phone rang, showing an all too familiar sequence of numbers. She should have blocked him, honestly; but for some reason there’s always something that holds her back. How could she, when even if she deleted his contact, she knows his number by heart? So for the third time that week, she picked up.

“What do you want Theodore?” she huffed out.

“Theodore?” he scoffed, “that’s not my name, I’m baby”

“Cut the crap, Theo. Are you drunk again?”

“I miss you, baby.” At that, she felt her resolve falter. Call her weak, but she missed Theo too. There’s no doubt she still loved the asshole, but she had to keep reminding herself that there was a reason why she left him. He can’t seem to make his mind up every time she brings up the issue of their relationship. It’s always “I want you” but he follows up with “why can’t we be happy just like this?”

Theodore who always pulls up in his full stereotypical leather jacket and muscle car. Theodore who opens doors for her, always coming with flowers he picked up on the way over, but then disappears for days at a time. Theodore who runs away at any semblance of a demand for his vulnerability. He has roamed this earth for a century, but under no circumstance did any of his lovers ask for his entirety. He thought he picked them well. And he knows he could just look for someone else to pursue, someone who would never challenge the boundaries he set. However, for reasons he can’t admit even to himself, he couldn’t stay away.

Every night since she decided to leave, he gets drunk out of his mind and calls. And every time he calls, she answers. Maybe it’s out of pity, out of love, or out of habit; but she does. Maybe she’s hoping that one of these nights, he’ll decide that they want the same thing out of the push-and-pull they’ve been at for months.

For months, Theodore was the most thoughtful boyfriend-non-boyfriend. Dates were always planned out, and there was no way he would allow her to go to their dates by herself. He knew she was bad with directions, and what type of lover would he be if he let her get lost? In the same way, she prided herself on getting to know all of Theo’s habits without him pointing anything out. She knew he preferred hot pots over greasy food, that he always has a hand on her unconsciously, and that he shut her out whenever she asked about his past or life in general.

“Talk to me when you’re sober, Theo,” she rolled her eyes, knowing he can’t see it.

“I know you’re rolling your eyes. I miss making them roll when you’re under me.”

“Fuck off.”

She ended the call and placed her phone face down on her desk, not forgetting to set it on silent. Which is futile anyway, because she can’t stand not going through all the notifications on her phone at once, or else she’ll forget all about it.

Theo sighed and pocketed his phone, stumbling into the back seat of his car. Looking around, he counts all the pieces of her that she left in his beloved car, things he never got rid of. There were two little, silly looking baby dolls that she placed in the cup holder near the gear stick that prevented him from having and leaving more than one drink in the car; hair ties around the gear stick; a brush, a tube of hand cream, and a pair of socks in his glove compartment that he never takes out just in case; a blanket and pillow in the backseat; and a bunch of stickers that she stuck on the visor of the passenger seat’s side. He laughed at himself, not believing he let her vandalize his car. What was a few stickers on his car, he could just buy a new one right? Sure, that’s why. But he could never rationalize why he kept around socks in his car and the very pillow plushie that he’s lying on in his drunken state. Must be out of habit.

He sent a few more texts to her before falling asleep to the scent of her hair left on the pillow.

It took her half an hour of tossing and turning before giving up on sleep entirely. Sleep just wouldn’t come when thoughts of Theo plagued her mind, and it didn’t help that he just laid his heart out over text and then stopped replying after all of that. She knew he was shitfaced drunk, there were out of character typos all over his script, but was it so bad to believe that drunk words were sober thoughts? Maybe so.

After grabbing a hoodie, one of his, she stepped out into the dead of night, deciding that maybe a walk would help her rid her mind of thoughts. This idea was cut short when she spotted a black Maserati outside her apartment building. She knew whose it was, there was no denying that.

Theo heard knocks outside his car window, taking him out of his sleep. Disoriented, he glanced around, realizing that he had fallen asleep in his car again. He fell asleep in his car, outside her apartment, again. It’s become routine at this point, like he’s still looking for her presence even in his drunken stupor.

He opened the door and stepped out the car to face her, finally. She was glaring up at him, her arms crossed. Even in that state, under her gaze, he cracked out into a silly grin.

“You’re so pretty,” he reached out to touch her hair, which she deflected with her arm. This didn’t break his smile, but instead made him want to provoke her even more.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you I missed you, wanted to see your pretty face.”

“You’re insufferable,” she shook her head and rolled her eyes at him, “go home, Theo.”

“I thought you hated me driving drunk?”

“You seem perfectly fine now, piss off.”

He attempted to wrap his arms around her slowly, testing the waters. This time she didn’t try to push him off, making him smirk and more confidently pulled her closer to him.

“Didn’t you miss me?” he pouted playfully “I missed you so much, I almost died.”

“Wish you would,” she narrowed her eyes as him, making him chuckle.

“C’mon, baby. Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

She decided it was useless to try and drive him away, and deep down, she knew she didn’t want to anyway. So, with a resigned tut, she exhaled and motioned for him to follow her into the apartment. Luckily for her, he refrained from touching her at all on the way up to her door. But this was short-lived, because as soon as she shut the door, he was on her again. He snaked his arms around her waist and hooked his chin on her shoulder, trapping her against the door.

“What do you think you’re doing, Theo?”

“I told you, that’s not my name.”

“And I told you, don’t show yourself to me unless you’re ready for a relationship.”

“I promise, we’ll talk more about that later,” he pressed himself closer to her, “I think there are more.. pressing matters at this moment.” He trailed off, pressing his lips on her neck gently, waiting for her to react. When she didn’t, he decided to ask for her consent.

“We can stop here, baby,” he started to loosen his arms around her and distanced his face from the crevice of her neck. Fully expecting her to pull away, she turned around and grabbed the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. Shocked, his eyes widened; but before he could get carried away, he broke away and waited for her to open her eyes.

“I need you to tell me you want this, too.” She ignored him and tried to lean in for another kiss, but his hands were firm on her waist, preventing her from advancing any further. She rolled her eyes again and tried to pull him back.

“Theo, just fucking kiss me.”

“Not until you use your words.”

“Theo, I need you to fuck me right now or I’m kicking you out.” At that, he smirked and met her lips with a grip on the back of her neck.

The two lay in the darkness of her room, the only light coming from a small moon lamp on her desk. He shifted her to pull her back flush against his chest, his arms around her waist and his hand entwined with hers on her chest. No one was speaking, no one daring to break the silence made heavy by the elephant in the room. Theo knew that at one point, he was going to have to talk. He was well aware of the fact that he would have to admit to himself, and to her, the unspoken fact that there was a glaring reason why he couldn’t just stay away long enough to let her move on from him. Eventually, he started trailing kisses on her shoulders to rouse her from her silence.

“Are you finally going to talk?” she asked, resignation evident in her voice, and something tells Theo that if he fucks up this time, it’ll be the last. He hummed in affirmation and kept his grip tight on her, afraid that she’d run away. Afraid that she’d look at him and see right through him.

“Talk.”

“It’s not you-“

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Theo.” He laughed, teasing even in the worst times.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby. I just can’t let you go, okay?”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he said, earning him a slap on the arm.

“Okay okay, shit. I’ve just never done this before; I’ve never felt so drawn to someone like this before. I always want, no, need you around me. I don’t know what the fuck you did to me, but no one could ever do it for me anymore after you.”

“I’ve tried meeting other people; I thought I could get over you. But here we are,”

“Here you are.”

“Yeah, here I am, again. I don’t know, I’m rambling. What I’m trying to say is I have feelings for you I can’t explain, and it makes me want to do things for you, risk things for you that I never have before.”

“Theo, just tell me you love me and go,” she tried to turn and look at his face, but his hold on her remained tight. She felt him hide his face on her shoulder, his hand in hers shaking. He was scared, but she was too. They’ve hurt each other throughout the months they’ve been fooling around, there were issues to talk about and unpack. But at this moment, that didn’t matter, because all she wanted to know was if he was as willing as she was to go through that with her. She didn’t want to risk it all, just for him to run again.

“Would you love me through my bullshit?” he whispered, ever crass with his words.

“Theo, if it isn’t obvious with me giving you chance after chance,” she began, using his words from earlier, “I already do.”

He let out a heavy sigh, shutting his eyes tight, as if bracing himself for an impact that will never come. Theo will never understand why she was so willing to keep letting him into her life. And he will never understand why it was so hard for him, but she makes him want to do it anyway. So, for the first time in his immortal life, he says,

“I love you. Let’s do this thing.”

“Took you long enough, and you won’t even fucking ask me to be your girlfriend outright?” she scoffed, turning around to finally look at him, seeing his eyes closed like a child.

“Look at me, Theo,” she put her palm against his cheek, willing him to open his eyes. One eye after the other, he gazed into her eyes.

“This better be fucking for real this time.”

“It is, I promise. Be my girlfriend, I’ll do anything you want,” he nodded profusely, recognizing his last chance.

“You’re a bad habit, you know that?”

“Thank god you’re not getting rid of me then.” She breathed out a laugh, burying her face in his neck. Theo smiled into her hair, placing a hand on the back of her head, and thanking his lucky stars that he got it right this time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hi again hhh 2 drops in a week? is this really me???? jk but this is long overdue if i'm being honest. this is for my friend who just defended her research paper and celebrated her birthday, too. hope u like it! also this is my first time having like,,,mature themes so i hope it's not too bad!!!

also !! not beta read nor proofread hehe wrote this to habit by svt, love that song

[abarbaricyalp]

Written for the @samsseptember prompt: On The Run (kind of) // Rated E CW: shaving with a straight razor, no injury but continuous mention of the razor // 3.8k words // Read on AO3

The Closest Shave (Excerpt)

Sam held the straight razor gently, examining the blade and all the familiar knicks in the wood handle.

“That thing looks older than me,” Steve said with a playful trepidation as Sam continued to fiddle with it.

“It might be,” he humored because he knew this was all a diversion tactic. He pretended to sharpen the blade on a discarded piece of Steve’s suit before he handed it over. “It was my grandpa’s. First thing he ever bought. Gave it to my dad, and I got it when I turned sixteen. Other kids got cars but…” He shrugged like the razor didn’t mean the world to him, like he hadn’t brought it with him to the end of the world. He was pretty sure none of his classmates could say that about their early aughts cars.

“Your grandpa had good taste,” Steve said. When he caught sight of the shaving cream and brush again, he attempted to worm an arm around Sam’s waist and tug him into a kiss. When that didn’t work, he begrudgingly lifted his face up to give Sam room to work. Such a drama king.

Sam pushed Steve’s hair back from his face, thought about telling him a trim was next but shelved it for another day, and instead cupped Steve’s jaw to kiss him. “I inherited it. The good taste,” he said, just to see Steve smile, which he did.

“How did I ever get this lucky?” he asked.

“I’m at a total loss,” he answered with a grin. “By all accounts, it doesn’t add up.” He dabbed out some pre-shave oil–that was new to the kit, but that didn’t matter–and slowly worked it against Steve’s beard. Sam knew the texture of Steve’s hair in and out and all the way through. He knew how it felt when it was clean and when it was wet and when it was sweaty and when it was greasy. He knew how humid it had to be before it started to curl at the nape of his neck. He knew how his beard grew in slowly and then all at once and how coarse each day was.

Truly, Steve’s beard shouldn’t be less coarse than Sam’s, but Sam took care of his facial hair and Steve decidedly did not. Which was infuriating, especially to Sam’s thighs. The oil seemed more necessary for Steve than it did for Sam some days. It was odd to brush it through a long beard too. Sam hadn’t grown his beard out to any kind of length before. He didn’t need a lot of oil to soak into it and soothe his skin. Steve’s hair felt like wading through a jungle. Not that Sam was going to say as much because he’d just gloat about it for ages.

“You know,” Steve said, when Sam leaned around him to rinse his fingers off and let the oil sit, “if you keep this up, I’ll never shave myself again.”

“I’ll shave your eyebrows off if you don’t behave,” Sam threatened lightly. He stepped between Steve’s legs and took a second to just appreciate the man in front of him, with his twinkling eyes and easy smile. A bruise was already mostly faded from around his cheekbone, just a memory and a slight line from where the cowl dug into his cheek. “Actually, maybe I won’t see this through,” he said.

“Oh?” Steve asked, rubbing circles into Sam’s hip bones with his thumbs. The simple motion alone was better than any full massage Sam had ever gotten.

“Yeah, your mouth is really pink like this.”

“How pink?” Steve asked. Then slowly licked his lips like the teasing bastard he was.

Sam pitched forward a little unsteadily, aware of the oil in Steve’s beard but completely incapable of caring about it, and pressed his mouth against Steve’s gently until Steve opened up beneath him, hooked his legs over Sam’s hips and tugged him in closer. It made Sam’s body lit up and flush to life all over again, his heart tripping in his chest at the encompassing adoration he had for the other man. And the reciprocating devotion that was pouring out of Steve too and sinking into Sam’s bones down to his very soul. In another life… God, in another life, this could be every Sunday morning.

“That pink, huh?” Steve asked when Sam pulled back again.

“Behave,” Sam warned once more. The glint in Steve’s eyes said he was well aware that Sam was the one misbehaving, but he didn’t argue.

He unhooked his legs from Sam’s waist and sat up again, tilted his head back without being asked. He even held still as Sam painted on shaving cream. It had been a while since Sam had really used the brush and thicker cream. He couldn’t remember ever shaving someone else. Certainly never like this, with his grandpa’s razor and Steve’s knees bracketing his bare hips, hands warm and grounding against his skin. He was beginning to wonder just how he’d been so lucky too.

“This is really makin’ me feel like a dumb kid again, wasting money to get shaved at a barbershop instead’a just doin’ it myself.”

“Could you even grow facial hair before the serum?” Sam teased back. “Besides–” He finished spreading the cream on the brush over Steve’s cheek and then dragged it over his bare thigh slowly. “If you were getting this kind of treatment back then, the history books need a few revisions.”

Steve laughed, smile and eyes bright as he looked at Sam. “No, sir, you do know how to make it special for a guy.”

Sam gently wiped away shaving cream that was too close to his mouth. “Keep those pearls put away, soldier,” he teased gently. “Might drive a man to distraction.” He kept working, focused on covering Steve’s beard without excess.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve continued. “Have I told you recently?”

“Not recently enough.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated. “How did I get this lucky?”

Sam brushed cream over the tip of Steve’s nose and rolled his eyes. “Eyes forward, you ain’t sweet-talkin’ your way out of this one.”

Steve obliged comically, schooling his expression forward for two/tenths of a second before he leaned over to kiss Sam’s shoulder, which got shaving cream everywhere.

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! Here are all the lovely fics I read this month:

Temporary Fix | dbeaux | [234k] Whether it’s a company event, a date for the day, a hookup, a vacation companion, or even just someone to spend time with for a few hours, whether it’s formal, extremely casual, or somewhere in between, no matter what the requirements, you provide when and what your needs are and leave the rest to us. - Temporary Fix Harry needs someone to go with him to his parents' yearly event. After months of debating and one drunken night, he wakes up to find he submitted the application. He knows it's unfair to subject someone to his life, but when his eyes land on Louis, he finds himself drawn to him. Is it possible that Louis could be his saving grace? Louis doesn't need anyone. He's better off alone, so why did Zayn send in his application to Temporary Fix? Louis has secrets...lots of them, and he intends to keep them. After all, no one needs to know, but after he meets Harry he finds himself wondering if he can let go and trust again. Can Louis let Harry in? Can Harry accept him once he knows everything?

Behind Smoke Stained Curtains | jaerie | [19k] It was a particularly lonely night when Harry walked through his door with a flurry of snow. He was a little rough around the edges with a trucker hat pushed down over untamed long hair. He looked a little greasy, a shower definitely not in his recent past. His tan Carhartt work coat was smudged with dirt and oil and caked with grime, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The scent was overwhelming as soon as he walked in, unmasked alpha from days on the road stewing in a cab of his own pheromones. Louis was sure it was so deep into the fabric of his coat that no amount of washing would ever truly remove the stench. The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

see-through, need you | HoldingOnToChaos | [50k] Louis has a crush. He’s also a 19 year old virgin. Determined to get some experience before he goes out with his crush he enlists the help of his ex best friend—known in the university to get around, and star football player, Harry. Harry agrees to help Louis practice and learn, and Louis always has been a good student. -- OR the one where himbo Harry helps virgin Louis practice fucking.

Heart Beat | allwaswell16 | [33k] Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums. A 2023 Advent Fic ~ Now complete!

Santa Baby (one little thing I really need) | we_are_the_same | [3k] When Louis himself had first heard those words - all the nurses at the A&E have a secret line to Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve-, not nearly long enough ago to be considered a child himself, but long enough that he hadn't really felt like an adult all the time, he’d laughed them off. Thought they were sweet, of course, but just a line, something said to appease the kids who ended up having to stay overnight. Something to explain the presents that parents brought to the hospital on Christmas morning, or that were waiting for them at home, if they were lucky not to have to stay any longer. Something that would allow a little bit of Christmas spirit in the sometimes sterile rooms of the hospital. But that was before he’d met him.

Ride My Sleigh Tonight | kingsofeverything | [9k] In exchange for free food and drinks at Liam’s office holiday party, Harry pretends to be his boyfriend. But this is not that story.

The Busker | Chelsea Frew (chelseafrew) | [7.5k] A snowstorm has trapped artist Louis at home on his birthday--Christmas Eve--and on Christmas. Louis anticipates a lonely holiday. A mysterious stranger appears on Christmas morning, however, and Louis doesn't have to spend the day alone. But where did the man come from? Why does he seem familiar? It's a Christmas mystery.

Sunlight and Shadow | Cryinginacoolway_2931 | [88k] Foster dad Harry isn't lonely. He really isn't. Caring for children in crisis is his calling, and he doesn't need anyone to help him. That is, until he does. Louis, a handyman who craves love and a family more than anything, might just be the missing piece he never knew he needed.

Where All Roads Lead | Rearviewdreamer | [7k] Harry's Christmas takes an unexpected turn when he discovers a misplaced holiday card in his letterbox. He never thought that braving the snow to return the card to its sender would be so worth his while.

Santa, Baby | Throwthemflowers | [16k] Nothing in Harry’s life has gone to plan. From giving up his art dreams in favor of a stable 9-5, to singleness, to a bought with cancer that left him infertile, Harry finds himself wishing for a Christmas miracle. When one seemingly occurs, Harry meets the sperm donor of his dreams and begin to imagine the impossible. But not everything with Louis is as it seems, and soon an elusive art agent is adding to the chaos of Harry’s very unexpected holiday season. Set against the backdrop of New York City, this hallmark-style rom com is filled with a bit of drama, a drop of angst, and a touch of Christmas magic.