#After spending double life entirely alone

[lyraofthestarsss]

I hope everyone knows that The Mounders is the only thing keeping Pearl and Joel from going absolutely insane. We’ve seen how they can get when they’re red. Specifically, red with no allies. Or lost allies. Red names with no one to keep them stable or to help calm them down. No one to cheer them up or make them laugh or brighten their day. You’ve seen them. They’re insane, they’re bloodthirsty, they’re violent. They’re Scarlet Pearl and Lone Wolf Joel. And now, they’ve just lost Mumbo. Everyone on Secret Life needs to be careful now because Bdubs has scary dog privileges

[1d1195]

Invitation

~3.5k words

From me: I mentioned I had a kinda rough weekend. This just sort of wrote itself. Def a stand alone. Second chance at love. I wrote it mostly in the drafts page and didn't do a whole lot of editing for continuity so it's probs not very realistic nor will it make a ton of sense. But anyway.

Warnings: MC parent death; funeral, angst, angst angst. But I'm hoping if you read it you'll see some cathartic, comforting fluff.

Summary: She and Harry broke up years ago and it was completely fine. But seeing her again, even under sad circumstances has his heart pulling him closer to her.

It had been eight years since he had last laid eyes on her. But when he read the piece on her mum off a mutual friend’s Facebook page he was transported back to one of those moments he spent so totally in love with her.

The idea that her best friend was gone made him terrified for her well being. It was the reason he was in a hotel room, straightening his tie in the mirror. Double checking he didn't miss any spots while shaving. He looked simultaneously presentable yet solemn. Her mum was special, beautiful. She made Harry feel at home the entire time they dated. Bought him thoughtful gifts for his birthday and Christmas. Made sure she bought his favorite snacks and always inquired about school, work, or his favorite show. She joked with her that Harry was too good for her and she didn’t treat him well enough (which was inherently false). She was the perfect girlfriend and had the perfect mum.

He couldn’t imagine how she was feeling.

Harry didn’t want to make his appearance about his arrival at the funeral home at all. He stepped in line silently, tried not to make eye contact with anyone and slowly made his way through toward the front, pretending he was invisible. He looked at the picture boards as he walked along his favorite girl and her mother in so many of them. Both were beautiful and Harry thought she was going to look just like her mother when she was older and so he was really lucky that he would know she was beautiful for the rest of his life. But he would have predicted that anyway.

Their relationship ended amicably enough. They were changing, time moving on, and quite frankly it felt like they couldn't spend enough time together so it didn't seem fair. "Shouldn't we want t'spend time with each other, beautiful? Shouldn't we feel feel bad we're not spending time together? It shouldn't be forced. You're m'favorite person in the world, kitten. S'not fair."

He was right of course. She agreed. So they went their separate ways. Since they were still in university at the time, they saw each other frequently. Their friend groups overlapped a bit so they weren't rid of each other all that much until after graduation. There was even a picture of the pair of them together on that day--her mum's suggestion. It was apparent more so then, that they were changing and moving on but Harry was grateful for that picture. When he saw the notice of her mum's passing, he looked at it fondly and felt something in the pit of his stomach. Wanting and wishing he had made more time for her. That she wasn't so busy and their time apart hadn't lasted as long.

But that was eight years ago. Harry was thirty now. He had a few girlfriends during that time and maybe it wasn't a surprise they didn't work out. When he inquired of his friends if he should go to support her, they said it was up to him. Louis and Eleanor were out of the country so they would send flowers. Mitch and Sarah were waiting for Sarah to give birth at any moment so they too, would send flowers.

"I'll be at the funeral," Niall assured him. "I can't make the visiting hours, sorry, Harry," Harry could hear his frown as they spoke on the phone.

"S'okay, s'nice y'can make it t'any of it. She'll appreciate it."

"I hope," a frown in his voice, a sigh in his tone.

"No, she will," Harry was confident. She would never make Niall feel bad--anyone feel bad. It was just the way she was.

Harry was in front of the urn containing the ashes of her mother and he knelt and said a short prayer for her and her sweet daughter. He tried not to think about his own mother at such a sad time and how he would feel if this was her. He shook his head, blessed himself automatically, and stood to greet the receiving line. It was filled with aunts and uncles who were surprised to see him. He didn't fully understand their surprise (of course he would be there for her--even if things were different now) but moved to each one, quietly apologizing for the loss of their sister and only answering how work, life, and everything was with as few words as possible. It was just her and her mom. Dad was out of the picture before she was even born. It wasn't a bad thing because she was her mum's whole life and she never made her want for anything. "Where is she?" Harry asked quietly. Usually the children were first in the line but she wasn't there.

"Another spat with the boyfriend," her aunt rolled her eyes. "You are by far our favorite," she smiled at him encouragingly. "Don't leave till she gets back, if you can. She deserves to see someone who will make her happy right now," she winked.

Harry felt his eyebrows crawl up his forehead in surprise. He nodded. Pride bloomed inside him for being the favorite. It wasn't the time but he couldn't help it. His heart felt heavy, worried she was with someone horrible. "Yeah, sure. Of course."

So Harry stayed in the little seating area, watching people walk through the receiving line, looking at the slideshow of pictures that somehow managed to boil down to one person's life. There was even a picture or two of him. It made sense, he was in her life for nearly four years and they were inseparable until they weren't.

Harry smiled fondly at the memories within the pictures and wondered where she could be right now. He had seen the full slideshow twice.

"Harry, you're still here?"

He cleared his throat, stood, and shook one of her uncle's hands again. "Yeah... um... haven't seen her yet."

"She went outside with the boyfriend ages ago. I'm assuming they're still arguing or she's trying to calm herself down enough to come in and fake that everything's fine."

Harry frowned. "Maybe I'll go check then," he suggested and headed for the door.

Why was she dating someone if it was clear no one in her family liked him?

The men at the door, let Harry through and he quietly walked to the side of the building wondering where she could be having a private conversation at a funeral home. The side was dark except for a flood light that perfectly illuminated the couple. Harry stepped out of sight but strained to listen.

"What do you mean, 'you have to go'? You're seriously joking right?"

Harry didn't know her voice could take on a tone that sounded so angry like that. They never fought that way. No more than who's pizza topping was better or if they had to pick which dinner place to go to on a busy Saturday night.

"Babe, you know with my work--"

"This is my mother," she croaked. It felt like a bullet through Harry's chest to hear her choked up like that. All that grief wrapping in her throat and pulling on her vocal cords.

"I know, but don't you think she would want me to continue living my life and doing what I need to do so--"

"She's my best friend," her voice cracked because she was crying so hard. Harry wanted to run over, unceremoniously knock him to the ground, and comfort her. "You're supposed to be here to support me!"

"Well you know death kind of freaks me out, babe. I'm trying to support our future. I've been here all day."

Her tone was so biting, he truly couldn't believe it. "You've been here for an hour."

Harry winced and shook his head. No one liked death. Everyone was freaked out by it to some degree. But he was supposed to love her; be there for her.

"If you leave, we're done," Harry felt intrusive for listening in but he couldn't move.

"You don't mean that."

"I do, mean that. I really, really, really, really mean that," she sniffed. Good girl. Harry thought. "I have put up with your bullshit like this for way too long and you're unsupportive and if you leave this is it," she assured him. "Work cannot be more important than me."

"It's important for us, babe. So when we get married--"

"And when will that be?" She shouted.

"For the love of God, we're going to do this now?"

"It's been three years. I'm thirty and wanted kids and you are just..." she trailed off. "Fine. Go. We're done anyway."

"Babe, you don't mean that--"

"I will pack my stuff up when I get home."

"And where are you going to go? You don't have a job right now--"

"BECAUSE I WAS TAKING CARE OF MY DYING MOTHER."

Why was she even with this guy? Harry couldn't fathom it. It was so unlike her to date someone so crass and careless. Or maybe Harry was just filled with rage and envy of a man that couldn't help her the way she deserved.

"Well..." he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I have a plane to catch. Maybe after you've calmed down and aren't grieving we can have a more pleasant conversation."

A silent moment passed between them. Surely he heard it as he said it. It couldn't have been just her and Harry that heard what he implied. "Do... do you... do you think I'm supposed to be done grieving?" She hissed.

He sighed, mumbled something about calling her when he landed, and walked away. He didn't even notice Harry pressed to the building.

Harry watched him get in his car and pull away as if this wasn't the worst day of her life. Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself. This wasn't about him or how he wanted to strangle him. This was about her, her grief.

She was leaning against the wall. She was heaving, sobbing into one hand. For what, at that point, Harry didn't know. He could only see her from behind, the same figure he could have picked out in a lineup and if he was blind. But she seemed smaller. Withdrawn of course. Her free arm wrapped around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together.

"Hey beautiful," he murmured softly. She sniveled, spun around. Harry was met with her face grief stricken, heartbroken, and tear soaked. But yeah, she was still as beautiful as he remembered. "Aw, kitten," he cooed gently. "C'mon s'cold outside. Let's get you--"

She threw herself against him as he approached. Her arms around his neck and she continued her sobbing against his shoulder. Sighing, he wrapped his arms wrapped around her waist and back, she fit effortlessly into his embrace even after eight or so years since he last saw her. It felt natural to hold her like this. "I know," he murmured comfortingly. "I know, kitten," he kissed the side of her head, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down her spine.

"Please don't let go of me," she cried. "I can't--"

"Shh," he hushed. "M'here. M'not letting go until you do," he promised softly. He hoped she wouldn't pull away because he wanted to take care of her the way that asshole couldn't. It didn't matter what the past was it only mattered that her sweet self could find some sort of contentment.

"Please don't leave me," she begged. "I can't do this alone."

It felt like a switch changed in him. Or maybe it was the anger he felt for her ex-boyfriend. Or perhaps a combination of missing her when he didn't really know he had been missing her and all the frustration he felt for the reasons she was so distraught. He would do anything for her. "No way, beautiful. M'not going anywhere," he assured her pressing his lips instinctively to the top of her hair. Patiently he listened to her cries, held her tightly, and lightly brought a hand to the side of her neck. He carefully pressed his fingertips against her skin, hoping that if she was aching (which he assumed every part of her was) it relieved the smallest bit of tension.

"How much did you hear?" She sniveled pulling away enough to glance into his eyes. Her face was blotchy and red, she was sure. Harry looked like he just left his modeling job for ties and cologne. She wanted to look more beautiful--so it would have at least made sense that Harry had ever decided to date her--even if it was years ago. But she was so overwhelmed with sadness, she couldn't feel anything but that and not even her horrendous look could deter her long enough to utter more than a quick apology for snotting all over him. "M'sorry. I look--"

"Shh," he hushed immediately. Harry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket--Mum was always insistent he have one when he wore a suit. Someone is always crying when you need to wear a suit and it's not to work. Carefully, he dabbed under her eyes, and swiped the fabric across her delicate cheeks. "You look beautiful," he assured her a kind, small smile made his lips curl up just enough to get the dimple in his cheek to appear. The one she had told him she was going to stick her tongue in back when they laid on a mattress that was too small for two people and resulted in a giggling tickle fight between two people who were much too old for tickle fights.

What he would have given to make her laugh now.

Harry kept one arm around her waist taking over her own job to hold herself together. "How much did you hear?" She repeated.

He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Too much, probably."

She frowned; if she could muster an emotion other than sadness and grief, she probably would have been embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry. I was waiting inside, but then your uncle said y'were out here and I wanted t'see you and--"

"Do you need to leave?" She asked quickly. "I'm sorry I'm holding--"

"Kitten," he said gently pinching her chin between his fingers so she had no choice but to look in his eyes and process what he was saying. "M'staying here until y'tell me t'leave."

She sighed. For the first time in what felt like months she felt relief. "Okay."

*

She dragged him alongside her to the front of the receiving line. Harry felt slightly embarrassed and out of place but the rest of her family paid no attention to it. Like he was supposed to be there. She hugged and cried a lot over the next two hours. Harry handed her tissues and water.

“What if I don’t tell you to leave?” She whispered. Harry was standing so close to her that no one else could hear. Like it was just the two of them. She was sipping from a water bottle and Harry was stroking her hair back with his fingers while wiping below her eyes with a tissue.

“Then I’ll never go," his voice was quiet, like hers. He kissed her forehead softly.

"You don't have to obviously, you have no obligation... but is there any chance you were planning to be here tomorrow?" She asked.

He nodded hurriedly. "Course, kitten," he smiled gently, almost sad that she thought he wouldn't. "Niall's going t'come too. He's really sorry he couldn't make it tonight," he explained. "I have a hotel room right nearby so I can stay s'long as y'need me. Do anything y'need, too. And Niall m'sure would be happy t'help if y'need anything requiring two people, as well."

"Really?" A fresh well of tears filled her eyes and Harry's grin grew even if it was sad she was so surprised.

"Of course, beautiful. We... we want t'be here for you," he assured her.

She pressed her face against his shoulder again and sniveled against him. "I owe you a new suit," she mumbled into the fabric.

"Shh..." he hushed. "M'here," he promised. "Don't worry 'bout anything else."

*

His hotel room was dark when they entered. Harry didn’t want anything to happen that could be misconstrued due to her grief but she seemed adamant and sure that she wanted to spend the night. Harry was planning to sleep on the floor but instead they chatted way too much. Much later than a girl who had her mum’s funeral the following morning should have chatted. She giggled the way Harry loved and smiled despite how sad she was. Harry told her all about the last eight years, his job, his mum, their old friends and everything in between.

When he looked at the clock, his phone said it was well past one in the morning and she needed to be up early. “Think y’need t’sleep, kitten,” he was lying beside her, fully clothed except he lost the tie. He was brushing her hair away from her face watching her eyes droop.

“Mom didn’t like him,” she whispered. “She didn’t like anyone that wasn’t you,” she told him.

Harry swallowed nervously. Not because he was worried about her sentiment but because her grief was fresh and the tire tracks of where her stupid ex peeled out of the parking lot were still warm. Her mind had to be jumbled and as much as he wanted to kiss her and make promises, it wasn’t the time. Harry was older and more mature now. The way he wasn’t but wished he had been when they broke up. “After that performance, beautiful,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “M’surprised she didn’t poison him.”

“He didn’t even like her oatmeal raisin and white chocolate chip cookies,” she grumbled bitterly.

“Kitten,” he tutted. “How could you let that continue?” He joked, nudging her playfully.

She turned on her side, their faces inches apart on the same pillow. “Thank you for being here for me,” she whispered.

“There’s no where else I want t’be, beautiful,” he promised.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed you. It’s sad this is what it took.”

He leaned forward, pressed his lips to her forehead and let the kiss linger there. “Do y’want me t’sleep on the floor?”

“No,” she shook her head. “This is the first night I’ve felt tired in months. You have to stay here if you want me to sleep through the night.”

“If you’re sure,” he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off. He didn’t want to change into different clothes or anything. He just wanted to be there for her.

“This is also your hotel room that I invited myself into," she reminded him.

He grinned at her in the dark. “You’ve always had an open invitation, t’me, kitten,” he brought her closer toward him, kissing the top of her head.

There would be about a thousand and one things to discuss after the funeral. But right then it was late, and they needed to sleep because the day was going to bring more exhaustion and sadness that was inevitable. “Did you mean it?” She whispered quietly after Harry thought she had fallen asleep.

“Mean what, beautiful?” He murmured.

“You’ll never go?”

He nodded. “Mmm,” he hummed inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “I meant it,” his words were slurred with sleep and she knew it because she had heard it in his voice hundreds of times in their time together. He was on the brink of dreaming and her mind was reeling.

“Mom wanted us to get back together,” she whispered. “For ages. She had our graduation picture on the fridge,” she explained. “When I was taking care of her these last few months and he was useless, she kept mentioning you. Told me it wasn’t too late to start over. I guess... I guess this was one way she thought she could bring us back together.”

There was no response because Harry had fallen asleep, and she was close behind. She brought the hand that held his to her lips and kissed his fingers inhaling the comforting smell of him as she finally felt like sleep.

“Your mum was the best,” he mumbled. “She brought you into this world, just for me t’find you.”

The words were lost in her mind, her throat, and her aching heart. But she liked to believe that Harry knew already because he was there, and he wasn’t planning on leaving again.

“We can start over, beautiful. M’not going anywhere,” he whispered one more time as sleep overtook her tired mind.

--

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[callie-the-creator]

mine all mine

nsfw. mdni. warnings: yandere behavior, friends with benefits, mentions of alcohol consumption, pegging, pet names, oc is a bit of a perv, babytrapping, etc.

author’s note: nothing to sayyy.

• you and sonny have been friends ever since your sophomore year in high school, having met by a mutual friend that is now irrelevant.

— it seemed every time you and this aforementioned mutual friend hung out, sonny would end up joining you two whether that be inviting himself, begging one of you to let him tag along, or ‘coincidently’ popping up at the places you’d be going.

— if sonny could have things his way, it would be just you and him spending time together. no need for extra baggage and adding a third person (which is a bit ironic since he’s usually the one that deemed extra baggage).

• but because sonny’s been your friend for such a long time, he had to endure every partner you’ve ever dated or crush you’ve developed. he knew your type and what you liked, but what sucked was that he wasn’t your boyfriend. how long will it take for you to see that he’s the perfect man for you??

• that is, until one night during your junior year of college when you two exceeded the amount how much alcohol you could consume, sonny could’ve sworn that he died and went to heaven once he saw that lustful look in your eyes. but he knew if he acted on his selfish desires, he’d end up getting hurt. realistically, you’d most likely sweep this night under the rug whilst sonny feels his heart break even more when he sees you with another boy, whether he’s one of sonny’s friends or a stranger.

• but who is sonny kidding? he said ‘screw it’ and agreed to spend the night with you, despite being at some random sorority.

— and, yes, you two having sex inflated his ego majorly. it brought him more ecstasy than anything he’d ever experienced in his life. oh, he’s such a loser!

• the morning after, sonny couldn’t say that he was entirely surprised seeing the empty spot on the bed beside him, but it still cut him like a wound. you ended up explaining over text that you weren’t looking for a relationship right now and whatever happened between you and him, while it was nice, was only a one-time thing.

• or so you thought.

• sonny is an absolute perv and he relishes in that fact. whenever you’re wearing a dress or skirt, he’ll not so discreetly drop something, so he can catch a glimpse of what lingers underneath. and when you’re on vacation or out with some friends, sonny will pick the lock to your dorm room, so he can strip naked, wear one of your shirts, and sniff your panties as he grinds against one of your pillows.

— during one of his visits, sonny takes it upon himself to snoop through your bedside drawers only to find a double-edged dildo. okay, maaaybe he used it once or twice without you knowing. scratch that. he’s used it a total of nine times.

• after knowing this, the next time you and sonny get some alone time, he brings up the idea of pegging, surprising you in the process because you never thought he of all people would be interested in that.

— “actually, i…have a toy that could allow us to do that…” you whispered, almost coy. you’re so cute.

• he loves it whenever you peg him, it makes him feel so special when he’s being used your false cock. sonny would love nothing more than to be stuffed with it, so you can ruin his perfect plump ass.

• it doesn’t matter where you are—in your dorm, in his, in a car, or even in the middle of the woods; sonny will scream, whimper, and moan like a pornstar. did i mention that he was a perv? it’s almost like he wants people to see that you two were having sex, so they’d get the impression to lay off his girl because he’s the only one who can make you feel this good!

• sonny is a whole level of needy. like, flooding your messages and spam calling you in the middle of the night needy. more often than not it’s because he’s horny and wants to have phone sex with you, so he knows you’ll sleep well. all thanks to him.

• he’s a masochist 100%.

— he loves whenever you pull him by the hair to crank his neck back to liter sloppy kisses on his neck.

— loveslovesloves to be spanked!! there are times during the day where he’ll intentionally act like a brat so you will punish him.

— won’t mind if you leave hickeys on his body. he wants to be a display of your love and whoever thinks they can get in the way of that has another thing coming. sonny is not willing to share what is rightfully is. you’re HIS girl!

• note: if you call him pretty boy and good boy, it’ll immediately put him in the mood. do with this information as you please (and tease him in public for goodness sake).

— will not hesitate to fuck you in a mall bathroom if he has to prove a point.

• expect to get lots of praise from him. even though he knows you’re not ready to be in a committed relationship, you know that he has feelings for you (just not the… severity of his love for you. if you can even call it that). a reason why you believe this is that there are some mornings when you’ll wake up with 99+ unread messages from him. no regular fwb would do that…

• still. it was a problem. this was supposed to be a ‘no strings attached’ deal. and that’s exactly what you told him!

• sonny smiled at you and told you that he understood. whaaaa…he wasn’t upset? he even recommended dropping the whole friends-with-benefits deal entirely. under one condition: you have some breakup sex.

• he was surprisingly mature about it. you agreed. this will be done before you know it. sonny was elated that you actually agreed to this and, unable to control himself, leaned down and kissed you as a way to show his thanks before telling you to meet him in the bedroom. he needs to do something first.

• and when you were finally out of his sight, he pulled the condom he planning on using and began to poke holes in it…

there is no way he was going to allow another man to fuck that sweet cunt of yours. looks like he’ll have to breed you to make you alllll his!

[callsign-mayhem]

heartbreak feels so good (part 1)

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader Word count: 8081 CW: Shitty boyfriends, angst, fluff, slow burn.

Your boyfriend's callsign is Viper, which is fitting. Bradley doesn't know how much longer he can watch this man destroy you, but luckily for him, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Use of Y/N, but no description of reader. THIS IS A MULTI-PART FIC.

Part Two Part Three

After another day of having your feelings totally ignored by your boyfriend, you were looking forward to some alone time. Elijah was so hot and cold that you felt as though you were in a constant state of fight or flight, just waiting for him to either make your day or ruin it completely. Most of the time, it was the latter, and although good days with him were few and far between, they were enough to make you stay. See, you didn’t half-ass anything—least of all relationships—so when you were in something, you were in it. You told Elijah that much after your first date. You’d been sitting in the front of his beemer eating ice cream, having the first of many deep talks. Between sweet, sticky kisses, you’d told him that you were dating to marry. He told you he was, too. 

He said, ‘I’m yours if you’ll have me, Y/N.’ And that was that.

And it was almost a year ago. You’d survived a somewhat tumultuous winter with him, desperately trying to cling on to the version of him he’d been during the summer. As time went on, he stopped putting his mask on, secure enough in your relationship that he no longer felt the need to pretend to be caring and considerate. The days were starting to get longer, and the weather was warming up again, but Elijah was so far from the man he was at the start that you might as well have been in a relationship with a different person. Every morning, you woke up with no idea what personality to expect that day, whether or not he was going to take all his personal drama out on you, even though you only ever loved and supported him. 

Today had been one of those days, and as you finished up with the F-18 engine currently in pieces in front of you, you silently prayed that he wouldn’t text you asking to come over. He was also a naval aviator, but you were working on different parts of the base today. Thank God. Elijah’s callsign was Viper, fitting since vipers prey on small animals by envenomating them and watching them die slowly. 

Coyote appeared behind you, helmet tucked underneath his arm.

‘Hey, we’re all heading to The Hard Deck for beers,’ he told you. ‘You comin’?’ You grabbed a rag and made an attempt to wipe some of the oil off. ‘I don’t know,’ you sighed. ‘I want to, but then I’ll have to bring Elijah, and I don’t really wanna see him tonight.’ ‘Why do you have to bring him?’ Coyote frowned. ‘He’s a lousy drunk and never lets you have any fun.’ ‘If he finds out I went out with all you guys, he’ll think I’m up to something.’ ‘Like gettin’ with me?’ He joked, wiggling his eyebrows. ‘Probably,’ you laughed. ‘You or one of the others. Or maybe he’ll accuse me of getting with all of you if he’s in a particularly bad mood.’ ‘Listen, if you wanna come, you’re welcome. We’ll just make sure nobody posts about it, and we’ll get you a fake moustache or somethin’.’

It broke your heart to think about all your closest friends having a fun night without you. Over the past year, you’d lost count of the amount of experiences you’d missed out on because you didn’t want to make Elijah upset or angry with you. The worst part was it was a double standard. He went out without you all the time, didn’t tell you where he’d gone or who he was with, and expected you to be okay with it. If you weren’t, you could kiss your peace goodbye; he’d spend the next week making your life a living hell, ignoring you entirely until you apologised to him for being hurt by his actions.

‘You know what Javy? Count me in.’ He grinned. ‘Thatta girl.’ 

It was hard to regret coming out when you felt this good. It had been months since you’d gone on a night out without Elijah, which was to say it had been months since you last enjoyed yourself. As you sipped your second sex on the beach, you mused that some kind of higher power must have been looking out for you because you’d yet to receive a single text from your boyfriend. Most of the time, when you spent the night apart, he’d call you incessantly. It was annoying, sometimes bordering on obsessive, and you didn’t need him to tell you he was checking on you, or rather, checking that you were alone in your apartment. That much was obvious. 

Dating an insecure man was not for the weak.

You were sat at one of the high tables next to the window watching Jake, Mickey, Javy, and Reuben play pool. Nat was opposite nursing a beer, glowing in the golden light of the evening. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, smiling at the notification. 

‘Rooster’s on his way,’ she told you. ‘He wasn’t gonna come out tonight, but I told him he didn’t have a choice. It’s not every day Y/N Y/L/N leaves the comfort of her apartment.’ You scoffed. ‘That’s not exactly how I’d put it.’ ‘No?’ Nat raised a brow. 

You hadn’t drunk in months, and despite only being on your second drink, the booze had loosened your lips significantly. 

‘No. It’s not that I’d rather stay home, it’s that staying home makes my life easier because then I don’t have Elijah breathing down my fucking neck.’

Little did you know, Javy had told everyone about your conversation earlier. Not because he was a gossip but because he was worried about you. It was rare for you to open up to the squad about your relationship, but it wasn’t hard to guess what happened behind closed doors. They all worked with Viper, for one, and they were familiar with his temperament. Not only that, but you dropped off the face of the Earth a few months after you started dating him, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. 

‘I don’t know why you’re still with him, Y/N. He’s an ass.’ ‘I know,’ you sighed, frowning into your drink. ‘It’s just not as straightforward as just leaving. I still love him. If I can make this work, I don’t have to start all over again with someone else.’ Nat nodded in understanding. ‘I get wanting to make it work, but at what cost? You don’t see your friends, and he uses you as an emotional punching bag. You can’t even come to the beach with us without him checking on you every five minutes,’ she reached over the table and took your hand. ‘He’s killing you.’

This was the first time someone had spoken their mind to you about the situation. While you already knew all of it, hearing it from one of your best friends hit home. Vodka made you emotional, and if not for Bradley, you would have broken down there and then. 

He walked up to the table and engulfed you in a hug, practically pulling you off your stool. You pressed your face into his shirt, inhaling the scent of clean cotton and sandalwood. Half expecting Elijah to spring out and catch you in the act, you reluctantly pulled away. 

‘Hey, Bradley.’ ‘Hey yourself, stranger. Can’t believe you’re gracing us with your presence.’ ‘I know, it’s been a while.’ ‘A while? Try six months,’ he glanced at your almost empty glass and Nat’s empty bottle of Heineken. ‘Can I buy you lovely ladies a drink?’ ‘Do you even have to ask?’ Nat retorted.  ‘What’re you drinking, darlin’?’ He asked you. You smiled sheepishly. ‘Sex on the beach.’  ‘I can make that happen.’ He smirked.

Luckily, you didn’t have to come up with a response to that remark because he turned around and headed to the bar. You locked eyes with Nat, and both of you burst out laughing.

Just like that, all the negativity you’d been feeling dissipated like rain against hot tarmac. 

Bradley came back with the drinks, and the three of you took the opportunity to catch up while the others finished their pool game. You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were to find out that you’d missed a lot. Bradley had started dating one of the medics, but the relationship had crashed and burned almost immediately. He hadn’t bothered trying to meet anyone else since. Nat, after watching all her friends have such bad experiences in the dating world, had decided she was better off alone. 

‘Honestly, I don’t blame you.’ You told her. ‘You should dump Viper,’ she said with a devilish grin. ‘And we can have a hot girl summer.’ Bradley laughed. ‘Can’t say I ever imagined you saying that, Nix.’  ‘Isn’t that what it’s called now? We can’t be that out of touch, surely.’ ‘I don’t wanna think about how old I am.’ You said, picking up your phone to see if you’d missed any texts from Elijah. You hated to think what kind of argument missing one of his calls would start.  Nat and Rooster shared a knowing look. ‘It rings, you know? Out loud.’

Being this transparent was embarrassing. 

‘I think I’m going to confiscate this for now.’ Ignoring your protests, Bradley swiped your phone and tucked it into his pocket. ‘If he calls or texts, I’ll let you know.’

You were tipsy enough not to try and take your phone back but not tipsy enough to be unbothered by the idea of Elijah calling and you not picking up.

‘If he calls, I need it back straight away,’ you told him sternly. ‘If I don’t pick up, I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Bradley rolled his eyes, but you knew it wasn’t aimed at you. He hated Elijah the most of all your friends. Perhaps sensing some tension, Nat slid off her stool and grabbed your arm, practically yanking you off yours.

‘Let’s go pick a song,’ she suggested. ‘We can get more drinks on the way back.’

Since it had been so long since you last visited The Hard Deck, she let you choose. You picked Rebel Yell by Billy Idol, your mum’s favourite. Admittedly, you’d been missing your home town a lot more than usual lately, perhaps because you were in such a weird place mentally. Things must be worse than you thought if you were considering running home with your tail between your legs. 

As the night went on, you got drunker and drunker. Bradley watched with a bemused grin as you dragged Bob off to the jukebox again, since he was the easiest person to coerce into doing things. How Bradley wished it was him you were clinging to. Not that he was jealous of Bob—because that would be like being jealous of a puppy—he just desperately wanted to be the object of your affection. 

While you and Bob went to change the music, Bradley struck up a conversation with Natasha and Reuben, who erupted into laughter when you pulled Bob’s arm so hard he almost toppled over. 

‘It’s nice to have Y/N out, huh?’ He observed. Nat looked at him like he was the biggest dickhead in the world. ‘Come on, Bradshaw. He might be an ass, but she’s got a boyfriend.’

Bradley sipped his beer, desperately trying to come up with a believable response. Reuben smirked knowingly, which only made Bradley more annoyed.

‘I don’t have a thing for Y/N.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, man.’ ‘Come on, Payback. You too?’ Reuben shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take a genius to work it out. You look at her like she’s God’s gift.’

The reason Bradley looked at you like you were God’s gift is because you were, but nobody was supposed to know that. 

‘Why do women stay with guys that treat them like shit?’ Bradley asked. ‘Depends on the woman,’ Natasha started. ‘But if you mean Y/N, it’s because she can’t do anything halfway. She told me earlier that it’s because she doesn’t want to start over with someone new, but I don’t think that’s it. She just loves so hard, and it takes a lot out of her. Why would she wanna start the process all over again if she already has someone?’ Bradley was incredulous. ‘Erm, I don’t know, maybe because he’s emotionally abusing her.’

You and Nat were close. In a way, she knew you better than you knew yourself, so she was the best person for Bradley to ask about things. Now, however, he was kind of regretting opening his mouth. Knowing why you were staying with a guy who treated you so badly didn’t make it easier to accept like Bradley thought it would; it only filled him with white-hot rage. 

‘It’s not as easy as just leaving. She has to come to it on her own.’ ‘Yeah,’ Reuben chimed in. ‘You can’t convince Y/N of shit.’ Natasha scoffed. ‘Yup, and believe me, I’ve tried.’  ‘So what, we just sit around and watch him ruin her?’ ‘Y/N’s a smart cookie and one of the strongest people I know. She’ll come to her senses, and when she does, we’ll be here.’ ‘You know, I read somewhere once that you can’t save anyone. You can only hold their hand while they save themselves.’ Nat raised a brow. ‘Damn, Payback. That might be the wisest thing you’ve ever said.’ ‘Hey, why do you sound so surprised?’ ‘You really want me to answer that?’

Bradley had a lot to think about. Realistically, he knew there was nothing he could do. His only option was to let things unfold naturally and have faith that things would work out exactly the way they were supposed to. The only problem was, that sounded too much like ‘sit back and do nothing,’ which didn’t feel right either. 

Bradley needed another drink. 

In fact, he was just about to head to the bar when you came bounding over, dragging poor Bob behind you. 

‘Roooooooooster.’ You cooed.

His heart just about melted when you started batting your eyelashes at him. 

‘What’s up, Y/CS?’

Everyone else was watching the interaction expectantly, waiting to hear what you were going to say next. 

‘You’re really pretty.’ Bradley laughed, hoping you were too drunk to notice the blush he could feel creeping across his cheeks. ‘Thank you. You’re really pretty, too.’ Nat, sensing the need to intervene, came around and gently grabbed your arm. ‘Hey, let’s get you a glass of water, huh?’ ‘But I need to tell Roo how pretty he looks.’

Bradley’s heart fluttered at your use of the pet name. He really didn’t want you to leave, but Nat was right. You needed some water and probably your bed. 

‘You told him already, Y/N. And when you get back, you can tell him again.’

She started leading you away, and Bradley immediately missed your presence. 

A very flushed-looking Bob took Nat’s empty stool. ‘That girl is somethin’ else.’ He murmured, pushing his glasses back up his nose. ‘I don’t think you should let her drink anymore.’ ‘I’m not her keeper,’ Bradley responded. ‘Can’t stop her from doing anything.’ Bob shrugged. ‘Maybe so, but you’re all she talked about. You and the fact that there’s no Fall Out Boy in the jukebox. Pretty sure she called it a ‘fucking tragedy.’’  Bradley leaned forward. ‘What did she say about me?’ ‘You know,’ Bob waved a hand dismissively. ‘You’re pretty. Her boyfriend is gonna kill her if he finds out she’s here with you because he thinks you have a thing for her.’ Bradley was at a loss for words. Reuben, however, was grinning like a fool. ‘What was that about not having a thing for her? Even her boyfriend’s caught on, man.’  ‘How many times do I have to say I do not have a thing for-’

An annoyingly loud ringing sound interrupted Bradley’s sentence. It didn’t sound like his ringtone, but the noise was coming from his pocket. It took him too long to remember that he had your phone in his pocket, and that it was probably Viper calling. Sure enough, when he took out your phone, he was greeted by a sickeningly sweet photo of you and your boyfriend on the beach. You and Nat were still at the bar, and he knew he should just let it ring so you could call him back later. 

But something had a hold of Bradley, and he answered the call and pressed the phone to his ear before he could really process what he was doing. 

‘Y/N’s phone.’ 

A beat of silence, then some of the most colourful language Bradley had ever heard in his life. 

‘Who the fuck is this, and why the fuck have you got my girlfriend’s phone?’  ‘Y/N can’t come to the phone right now. She’s at the bar with her friend, gettin’ another round of drinks, and I just know hearing your voice would ruin her night. It’s ruined mine, that’s for sure. If you want, I can take a message, and she’ll get back to you in the morning.’

Reuben was nearly on the floor, trying desperately not to laugh in case Viper heard him. Bob had paled significantly, like he’d seen a ghost—or worse. 

‘That you, Bradshaw? I just knew something was going on-’

Bradley hung up. The severity of the situation was beginning to hit, and despite the sick satisfaction he’d felt when he picked up the phone, he was regretting his decision already. 

‘Y/N is gonna kill you, Rooster.’ Bob told him. 

Nat made the sensible decision to cut you off, but she said you could stay out with them until closing if you promised to keep drinking water and stop fucking around with the jukebox. That was how you ended up in the corner of a booth with Bradley next to you to stop you from escaping.

Not that you’d want to escape. 

Mickey had joined, and the guys were playing cards while you and Nat talked. She was catching you up on her life, and it made a change to think about someone other than Elijah for once.

That’s when it hit you.

You hadn’t checked your phone in hours, and you dreaded to think how many texts and calls you’d missed. 

‘Bradley, can I have my phone?’

He set his hand of cards down on the table and reached into his pocket. When you reached out to take it, he pulled away.

‘Before I give this to you, I need to tell you something.’

A wave of nausea hit you. 

‘What? What’s going on?’ ‘Viper called about an hour ago. You were at the bar, and I didn’t know what to do, so I answered it.’ Reuben leaned forward in his seat. ‘Oh, this is about to be good.’

You thought you knew what panic felt like, but up until this very moment, you had no idea. Bradley was lucky you didn’t throw up in his lap from the nerves.

‘What?’ ‘I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thinking-’

You snatched your phone from him, ignoring the kicked-puppy expression he was sporting. A slew of angry text messages that were borderline abusive greeted you. You skimmed them quickly, not wanting to read too many in case you started crying in front of the entire squad. 

What started out as the best night you’d had in a while quickly turned into the worst. Your boyfriend's hateful messages reminded you why you never went out and why this was the biggest mistake you could have made.

The worst part was you saw it coming.

‘Move,’ you said, grabbing your bag. ‘Bradley, let me out now.’ ‘You can’t drive like this, Y/N. Let one of us take you home.’

Bradley sounded destroyed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

‘Move.’

He nudged Bob, who stood up so Bradley could climb out of the booth. You were close behind him, and when your feet touched the floor, you nearly keeled over. Bradley reached out to steady you, but you shook him off.

‘Y/N. You can’t leave like this. How are you gonna get home?’

Ignoring his pleas, you made a beeline for the exit. Nat shoved Reuben into Mickey, trying to hurry them out of the booth so she could follow you, but you were surprisingly fast for a drunk person. Bradley was right about one thing: there was no way you could drive in this state. You ducked around the corner so Nat couldn’t see you and sank to the floor. Hot tears prickled behind your eyes as you did the one thing you didn’t want to do, but the only thing you could do.

You called Elijah. 

He didn’t answer the first, second, third, or fourth time. 

Half an hour passed, and you didn’t move. At one point, you heard Bradley, Nat, and Reuben talking around the corner, coming up with a plan for where to look for you. They knew you were on foot because your car was still in the lot, and since you’d disappeared so quickly, you couldn’t have gotten far. If the situation weren’t so tragic, it would’ve been funny that you were hiding ten paces away, and none of them could find you. 

It was getting very late. People were getting in their cars and leaving or jumping into Ubers. Soon, your Jeep would be the only car left. You couldn’t face the daggers, and you couldn’t drive home, so you picked yourself up and took a slow walk down the beach to where the water met the sand. 

What a beautiful night to have your heart broken. 

There was no way Elijah would ever forgive you for this, no way you’d ever be able to convince him that nothing had happened between you and Bradley. The sane part of you knew that it was crazy to feel guilty for simply enjoying a night out with your friends, but the sane part of you rarely won these days. The part of you that loved Elijah was always loudest and knew this could never have gone any other way. 

You were just about to resign yourself to calling a cab when you heard someone yelling your name from the top of the beach. 

You either had the best or worst luck in the world because it was Bradley. 

He made short work of the distance, giving you no time to come up with something to say. He looked otherworldly in the pale moonlight. His hair was slightly mused, and the same insane part of you that loved what it loved was whispering at you to run your fingers through it. 

‘We’ve been looking all over for you, Y/N.’ He sounded very concerned as he pulled out his phone and texted the others to let them know you were safe. ‘I’m sorry, I just needed to be alone.’

You hadn’t even realised you were shivering until Bradley draped his Levi jacket over your shoulders. 

‘You needed to be alone, or you needed to call Viper back?’ The tears threatened to make another appearance. ‘It’s none of your business.’ ‘What makes you think it’s not my business? I care about you and don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.’ ‘Then stop watching!’

Bradley recoiled, and you immediately felt awful. How Elijah spoke to you like that day in and day out without feeling guilty was a mystery to you. 

‘I’m sorry, Bradley,’ you sighed, pulling his jacket tighter around you. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just very drunk and very emotional right now.’

He softened immediately and seemed torn about whether he should let you stand there freezing or pull you close. You hoped he wouldn’t try to pull you close because you didn’t think you’d have the guts to tell him no. Good feelings had been so incredibly hard to come by as of late.

‘Why are you still with him, Y/N?’ Bradley asked almost pleadingly. 

Wow. He didn’t waste any time getting right to the point. 

‘That’s a loaded question.’ ‘I need you to explain it to me because it’s killing me.’

You thought about it for a moment, and Bradley waited with bated breath to hear what you had to say.

In the end, it was this: ‘I guess we accept the love we think we deserve.’ 

Until you said it out loud, this phrase held little meaning to you. Now that it was out in the open, it was very heavy. In the last few months you’d tried coming up with a decent explanation as to why you were staying with Elijah, and you fell short every time. Turns out all you needed to do was get drunk and have an honest conversation to figure it out. 

Coming to the realisation that what you’d just said was true felt like being in freefall. Everything in your life was changing shape to fit around this ugly truth. The good things in your heart shied away in the face of this monstrous fact. 

You didn’t think you deserved a healthy love. 

Somehow, Bradley was more hurt by this than when you’d snapped at him earlier. He was staring at the ground, unable to meet your eye like you’d just told him he wasn’t worthy of love.

‘You don’t think you deserve to be happy?’

Hearing him say it was somehow even worse.

‘Apparently not.’

You were both quiet for a moment, and then, for whatever reason, you laughed. 

‘This is news to me too.’

The waves crashed loudly, water lapping at your feet as the tide came in. You couldn’t stand out here having epiphanies all night. 

‘Listen, Rooster, I need to go home. I’m sorry for snapping.’ ‘I’ll take you home,’ he said quietly. ‘But we should talk tomorrow when you’re sober. Maybe we could get coffee.’ You shook your head. ‘After tonight, I don’t think that’s a smart idea. I’ll probably be spending tomorrow trying to salvage what’s left of my relationship.’ ‘You’re not serious.’ ‘I am.’

He opened his mouth to protest but then appeared to change his mind. You watched as all the fight he had left in him dissolved. There was nothing left for him to say, and he knew it. 

The irritating birds that constantly chirped right outside your bedroom window woke you up. It was too damn early, and your head felt as though it was splitting open. When you sat up, you were hit by a wave of nausea so strong that you had no other choice but to sprint to the bathroom, smashing into the corner of your chest of drawers on the way. 

Which was to say, it was a bad morning. 

After you had puked up the entire contents of your stomach, you jumped straight in the shower, brushed your teeth, and did your skincare. At least if Elijah showed up at your front door, you wouldn’t look like you got super drunk last night, even though he’d probably already guessed. 

When you checked your phone, there were still no notifications from him, and when you called, there was no answer. This wasn’t unlike him, but it had been almost twelve hours since Bradley picked up your phone, and you would have thought he’d have something to say by now. 

To distract yourself from your impending doom, you threw open all the windows in your apartment, made your bed, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher—all the usual morning tasks. It seemed a shame to waste such a beautiful Saturday, but you doubted you’d enjoy any of your hobbies when you were this anxious and hungover. 

With nothing else left to do, you set about making some breakfast. 

Just as you put your bagel in the toaster, somebody knocked on the door. 

Your stomach twisted itself into an impossibly tight knot. You were rooted to the spot, unable to move until whoever it was knocked a second time. 

You looked through the peephole, expecting to see Elijah standing there with his dark eyebrows knitted together in frustration. It was the only scenario that had crossed your mind, so when you saw Bradley standing there, you were very surprised. 

You took a deep breath and opened the door, greeted by the warm scent of sandalwood once again. 

‘Bradley?’

He was holding two iced lattes, which you were betting were vanilla—your favourite. Elijah hadn’t done that for you since the first week of your relationship.

‘Hey, Y/N. Thought you could use this.’

He wasn’t wrong. You ushered him inside, and he headed to the kitchen, where he 

perched himself on one of the stools at your kitchen island. This morning, he was sporting one of his more toned-down Hawaiian shirts and dark jeans. His eyelids drooped, and you wondered if he’d slept at all. 

‘I was just about to make bagels. Want one?’ ‘Sure, thank you.’

You busied yourself, putting bacon and eggs into a pan while he sipped his coffee. He eyed you with the curiosity of someone who had come over to check that you were all in one piece. Once he was satisfied that you were, he relaxed slightly. 

‘Thank you for bringing me home last night. I really appreciate it.’ You told him earnestly.  ‘You don’t need to thank me. You’d have done the same thing.’ ‘True, but still. And I’m sorry for snapping at you.’ 

Last night was gradually coming back to you in flashes, like a supercut. Each time you remembered a new detail, you cringed internally. 

‘You also don’t need to apologise. Has he called you?’ 

While the eggs and bacon were cooking, you toasted another bagel for Bradley and buttered yours. Even though you’d known him for years and been quite close until you got into a relationship, you were struggling to admit that you were pretty much being ghosted. It was already hard to walk around on base knowing that everybody was aware of how Elijah treated you. When you didn’t respond, Bradley took that as a no. 

‘Well, that’s his problem,’ he spat. ‘You did absolutely nothing wrong. Maybe if he were less of a control freak, you would have felt like you could tell him you were out with us rather than hiding it, and then he wouldn’t have found out the way he did.’

The toaster popped, and you jumped. It felt like somebody had run a cheese grater over your nerves. Bradley ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath, clearly trying to reign in his anger.

‘I should apologise too,’ he continued. ‘I shouldn’t have answered your phone. It was a dick move, and I regretted it the instant I did it.’ 

You buttered the second bagel, put one egg on each of the bottom halves, and stacked two pieces of bacon on top before adding the top part. You didn’t say a word the entire time, and Bradley was starting to get antsy. 

‘Y/N. Please talk to me.’ ‘I don’t know what to say, Roo. I’m struggling even to think straight right now. He knows it drives me fucking crazy when he’s having a go at me and doesn’t respond. I don’t understand why he does it, knowing how it makes me feel.’ Bradley sighed. ‘Because he doesn’t give a shit how you feel. He doesn’t give a shit about anything other than himself and how he feels.’ 

This wasn’t news to you, but again, it was more impactful to hear someone else say it out loud. Really, how long could you keep this up? Whether you thought you deserved it or not, you were starting to wonder if you might be better off alone than with someone who made living feel like walking next to a cliff with your eyes closed. 

You pushed Bradley’s plate across the counter and picked up your bagel. Eating felt impossible, but getting through the day with this headache would be excruciating if you didn’t at least try. 

‘Come and sit down,’ Bradley said. ‘It’s not good to eat standing up.’ Despite everything, you managed to laugh. And this time, it was a real laugh. ‘Why?’ A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. ‘I don’t know. My mum used to say it all the time.’

You did as you were told, and you walked around the island, taking the seat next to him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, periodically taking sips of your coffees. This was how easy it should have been with Elijah. 

When you were both finished, Bradley put your plates, pan, and utensils into the dishwasher. You were too tired to tell him to stop. 

‘Thanks for breakfast.’  You smiled. ‘Thanks for being you.’

Bradley’s smile mirrored your own. Unsaid words hung in the air, but you didn’t know what to say. His leaving didn’t feel right, but if he stayed and Elijah made an appearance, he’d most definitely break up with you. 

But wasn’t this radio silence all the confirmation you needed that things were pretty much over, anyway? You were starting to wonder if this weekend had all happened exactly the way it was supposed to. Your eyes were indeed open, that was for sure. Of course, you’d known that the relationship wasn’t healthy, but this weekend had really driven the point home. 

‘Do you wanna go for a walk along the beach?’ You asked, hopefully. ‘We could grab some ice cream at that little place next to the arcade.’

Bradley didn’t just look happy. He also looked relieved that you weren’t asking him to leave. 

‘I’d love to.’

It was a beautiful Spring day, perfect walking weather. Honestly, it was the last thing Bradley expected you to suggest, so he jumped on the idea before you could change your mind and send him home.

Because he really didn’t want to go home. 

He’d sensed that you didn’t want to talk about Viper, and you’d yet to bring up your conversation on the beach last night. Bradley was beginning to doubt that you even remembered everything you said—all that nonsense about not deserving a healthy love. Bradley didn’t take you as a liar, which meant you believed that you weren’t deserving of happiness. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so sad and also angry at the same time. So many emotions were warring for the top spot in his heart, and as a result, his brain was incredibly foggy.

A walk along the beach with you was perhaps the only cure.

‘Did you hear about Hangman?’ Bradley assumed you hadn’t. ‘No?’ ‘He’s getting deployed. He’s leaving next month.’ ‘How long is he going for?’ ‘Six months.’ You whistled lowly. ‘Damn.’ ‘I know. I think he’s looking forward to it, though. I sure am.’ ‘You know, I don’t think you hate him half as much as you say.’ Bradley chuckled. ‘Maybe not, but being nice to him wouldn’t feel right. Even after everything that happened on the mission.’ 

The two of you walked down the beach, chit-chatting about anything that came to mind. You were about halfway to the ice cream place when your phone pinged. Bradley guessed it would be Viper, but he never could have guessed what the message said. 

It was a photo of you and Bradley walking down the beach, taken from behind. The picture had been forwarded to you from someone else. 

E<3: always knew you were a slut.

You inhaled sharply, obviously hurt by the words on the screen. Not two seconds later, he sent another text. 

E<3: PS: we’re fucking over.

The two of you had stopped walking. Bradley watched over your shoulder as you furiously typed a reply and deleted it again. You turned to face him, and his heart just about broke when he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t need to say a word. He pulled you close to him, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You stayed that way for a while, sobbing into his Hawaiian shirt as he rubbed your back soothingly. When you eventually pulled away, the first thing you did was apologise. 

‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, sweet girl. He’s the one who should be sorry.’ You sniffled. ‘I don’t know what to reply.’ ‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘We can go get ice cream, take a slow walk back to yours. Then I’ll help you think of something.’ ‘I don’t know if I feel like ice cream anymore.’ ‘Well, that’s too bad because I do. Ice cream is the best remedy for heartbreak.’ ‘Did your mum tell you that too?’ ‘She sure did.’ 

It turns out Bradley was right about ice cream being the best remedy for heartbreak. The two of you sat on the wall, watching the waves while he munched on a mint chocolate chip cone and you butterscotch. It was hard to tell whether it was the best ice cream you’d ever had or if it was because you were with Bradley. If you remembered correctly, you’d had ice cream from this same place with Elijah before, and it hadn’t been this nice.

Thinking back on your memories with him only made you want to cry, so you did your best to shove them to the back of your mind. Despite the fact that he was actually a very shitty person, he’d been a dream at the beginning, and that didn’t just go away. The happy moments didn’t just suddenly turn to ash, as much as you wished they would. 

‘What are your plans for the rest of the night?’ Bradley asked around his ice cream cone. ‘I don’t know, Roo. I’m kinda working on a minute-to-minute basis right now.’ Bradley nodded. ‘Okay, well, what would you say to junk food run and a movie night?’ ‘With you?  ‘If you want to. I just don’t think it’s good for you to be alone.’ ‘I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me.’ ‘Is that what you think this is?’ ‘No, but I don’t want to be a burden. Or a charity case.’ ‘Y/N, you’re none of those things. I always want to spend time with you. Just so happens I have a good excuse today.’ You frowned into your ice cream. ‘Okay. As long as you’re sure.’ 

The two of you finished your ice cream and took a slow walk back to your apartment. When you got in, the first thing you noticed was a framed photograph of you and your now ex-boyfriend on the side table in the hallway. When your bottom lip started trembling, Bradley picked up the photo, put it face down, and then proceeded to run around your apartment and take down any others. It didn’t feel like the same place you’d left a few hours ago. It was haunted by memories that would never look right in the light of day. Even the happiest ones from the start were tainted with the ugliness of his cruel words and actions. 

‘This place is so depressing.’ You grumbled.

Bradley stood in front of you with a stack of photos and one of Elijah’s t-shirts. 

‘It’s not. It’s your home, Y/N. We just have to pack away his stuff and put it all in a box.’ ‘An ex-boyfriend box.’ Bradley smiled sadly. ‘Yeah, exactly. It might be over, and he might be a dick, but it was still a big part of your life, and it’s important to keep the memories safe in case you wanna look back on them someday.’ ‘Or in case I wanna burn them.’ ‘That too.’ Bradley chuckled

So you helped him gather all the mementoes from your relationship and put them in an old Dr Martens box. It all looked pretty pathetic, packed away in a shoebox.

‘I found one of his hoodies and a few other things.’ You called from your bedroom. ‘Can you grab me a bin bag from the top of the fridge?’

You heard shuffling, and then Bradley was standing in the doorway holding out the bag you requested. 

‘Damn, he doesn’t even get one of the nice Trader Joe's bags?’ ‘No,’ you giggled. ‘He gets a trash bag because his stuff is trash, and he’s trash.’

You weren’t really at the stage where you believed that just yet, but saying it was really satisfying, and it felt good to laugh. Fake it till you make it or whatever. 

‘Want me to give it to him tomorrow?’ ‘Thanks, but I should really be the one to do it. I haven’t even texted him back.’ You thought about it for a moment and then continued. ‘Would it be cheeky of me to ask if you’ll come with me? Maybe Nat, too? I could use some moral support, and he’s less likely to make a scene if the two of you are there.’ ‘Of course I’ll be there. I won’t say anything unless you need me to or unless he starts. I can’t make that same promise for Nix, though.’ ‘I haven’t even told Nat yet,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t think I wanna talk about it right this second.’ ‘I’ll text her. Don’t worry about it.’

From your spot on the floor, you looked up at Bradley. The evening sunlight was streaming in through the windows, casting an ethereal glow around him. 

‘You should change your callsign to angel.’ A look of pleasant surprise flickered across his handsome features. ‘Why?’ ‘Because you’re literally my angel, Roo. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’

Half an hour later, Bradley convinced you to go on a junk food run with him in the Bronco. He said tonight was a mandatory, post-breakup wallowing sesh because if you bottled up your feelings now, you’d explode later at a much more inconvenient time. 

The two of you had been screaming along to all the classic breakup songs: All Too Well by Taylor Swift (yes, he knew all the words), Who Knew by Pink, What About Now by Daughtry… He’d driven the long way to the store because you got so into it. 

Now, as you scanned the shelves in Target, you asked: ‘What is it about screaming sad songs that makes you feel better?’ ‘It’s cathartic,’ Bradley explained. ‘Helps you relieve the strong feelings.’ ‘You know a lot about heartbreak.’ ‘Well, I’ve had my fair share of sadness.’ You froze. ‘That was insensitive of me, I’m sorry.’ Bradley took the packed of Reeses Pieces from your hands so he could hold them. ‘Can you make me a promise?’ ‘What?’ You asked sceptically. ‘Promise you’re gonna stop apologising to me all the time. You have nothing to be sorry for.’ ‘Sorry.’ You smiled sheepishly.  He shook his head. ‘That’s not what you’re supposed to say.’ ‘Okay, fine,’ you huffed. ‘I promise to stop apologising all the time.’ ‘Thank you,’ Bradley said, releasing your hands reluctantly. ‘Now, pick out five more things.’ ‘Five? There’s already five things in the basket.’ ‘Did I ask?’ ‘I’m gonna get fat.’ ‘Don’t be so ridiculous. Wallowing means junk food, and I don’t know if you’re looking at the same basket I am, but that’s not enough junk food.’ ‘Christ Almighty, okay.’ 

He helped you pick out five more things, and then you headed to check out.

‘What movies are good for wallowing?’ You asked. ‘Well, we have to start with a couple of sad ones and then finish with a happy one.’

The cashier told you your total, and Bradley tapped his card before you could even get yours out. You gave him a withering look.

‘I would’ve paid for that. You paid for the ice cream.’ ‘So?’ ‘So we should take it in turns.’

Obviously, he carried the bags as well, and as you walked back to the Bronco, he couldn’t help but wonder if Viper made you take it in turns. If you were his girl, you’d never have to tap your card.

‘What’s your favourite sad movie?’ He inquired.  You opened the trunk for him so he could put the bags in. ‘Technically, it’s not a sad movie. But there’s this part in Inside Out…Wait, have you watched it before? I don’t wanna spoil it for you.’ ‘The part where Bing Bong gets forgotten?’ You gasped. ‘How did you know?’ ‘Because it gets me every single time.’

The way you looked at him in that moment, like he had hung the moon in the sky—God, it was too much. 

‘We’ll start with Inside Out,’ he told you, opening the passenger door so you could climb in. ‘And then we’ll think of something else.’

Without giving much thought to what he was doing, Bradley found himself buckling your seatbelt for you. You were holding your breath, and it dawned on him how easy it would be to kiss you if he were that sort of guy.

And as much as he wanted to kiss you, he was not that sort of guy. He wasn’t about to take advantage of the fact that some asshole had just taken a sledgehammer to your very beautiful heart. 

‘Can we watch Bridge To Terabithia?’ You whispered.

Bradley hadn’t moved, and you were so close that he could feel your warm breath on his cheek. 

‘Are you trying to break my heart, Y/N?’ ‘Yes. I want you to feel my pain.’ 

He was grinning the whole way around the car to the driver’s side and still grinning when he got in the car. You already had his phone in your hand, searching for more sad songs so you could continue your car concert on the way back to your apartment. He drove the long way again so the two of you could finish your rendition of ‘I Don’t Love You’ by My Chemical Romance, which Bradley didn’t know the words to. He tried his best, though, because you seemed to love it, and he couldn’t deny you anything. 

By the time you got home, the sun had almost entirely set. While he set the snacks out on the coffee table, you went around lighting candles and switching on fairy lights. He’d never seen your apartment in the dark, and it was incredibly cosy. Even though it was relatively warm, you dragged all your blankets and pillows from your bed and made a little nest on the sofa. You were so adorable, it was hard to believe that someone could treat you badly. 

If you were his girl, every night would look like this—except you’d be a lot happier, and there would be no tears. 

Halfway through Bridge To Terebitha, you fell asleep. Bradley had been trying to keep his distance despite wanting to wrap you up in his arms, yet somehow—in your sleep—you’d ended up with your legs in his lap. He’d frozen at first, but once he realised you were dead to the world, he allowed himself to rest his hands on your knees. Really, it was that or sit with his arms crossed, and that would be silly. 

For the duration of the movie, his attention flickered between you and the TV. Every time he tried paying attention to what was happening, his eyes wandered back to your peaceful face. He marvelled at your astounding beauty, the delicate way your eyelashes rested against the tops of your rosy cheeks. Bradley had always admired you, and you’d been good friends for years, but what he felt in that moment was something else entirely. By the time the end credits started rolling, he knew without a doubt that he’d set whole cities ablaze to keep you warm. Feelings as rapidly growing as his should have been terrifying, but Bradley wasn’t scared. Falling in love with you seemed to be as easy as wading out into a calm ocean on a warm summer’s day. 

He knew you’d yet to learn that falling in love and staying in love should always be this easy. He knew it was going to take some time to convince you that you deserved healthy love, that the right person would never run away from you and keep turning around to make sure you were chasing them. 

But Bradley was a patient man, and he would wait as long as he had to.

End of part one.

[lunarw0rks]

Hello! I just found your blog and I just started reading everything I saw 😅. Can I request 141 + König + Alejandro with a pregnant reader? They don't know yet and when the reader will break the news they are really stressed with work and end up taking it out on the reader, they end up getting into an argument and saying they hate the reader and that their life would be so much better without the reader in it (😈). The reader takes this seriously and leaves when they are asleep... Months later they meet again when the reader is on her way to the hospital to give birth (😈). Angst to fluff pls. If you don't feel good about writing or it's too big, that's fine. Have a nice day and thank you so much for all the time you spend writing to us.

The Things We Say // 141 Drabble

Summary: You're expecting, but it's not good news. To him, at least. Your relationship takes a hit, but once he meets your child, he's swallowed with regret for how he treated you.

Warning(s): angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, pregnancy, childbirth, mentions of premature birth/complications, mild injury/blood, strong language, established relationship, fem!Reader, no use of y/n

A/N: I was hurting my own feelings---but, there's fluff after the angst, so don't get too upset besties<3 Hope you don't mind anon, I took some creative liberty because I didn't want them all to have the same plotline. | Word Count: 5.9k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

SYNOPSIS; he had been in the thick of it lately, sometimes more overwrought when at home with you than in active combat, it seemed. Conversations were either abrupt, crude, or nonexistent—often just building on top of the tension building between the two of you. Relationships were supposed to be fifty-fifty, but you felt you were carrying the burden of the whole percentage. That’s why the news couldn’t have come at a worse time—you, staring at the two lines instead of one. No matter how long you stared, double-checked the diagram, the answer was the same. Pregnant. So, now you knew two things for certain, you were expecting, and most heartbreaking—the other one responsible was at his worst. To break the news to him, it took every fiber of your being.

⋘ » ☆ « ⋙

AFTERMATH; nine months of hell. That’s how you would answer if someone asked. Few people did though, even at work or out on the street. There was the occasional boy or girl, how are you feeling. But they were being polite, or taking pity on the pregnant woman without a ring on her finger. The pregnant woman with bags under her eyes, the one who winces with each step because she’s ready to pop. None of it meant anything to you, because the other half of this responsibility had been left in the dark, and not for much longer. You weren’t raising this child alone, no matter how irate he was going to be when you contacted him.

Price

One of John’s many talents; stewing on his feelings, keeping them suppressed for an unnatural amount of time.

Often so long that he forgot about the source of his anger once he had time to catch up to them. That is… Until his work was involved. Then he was an entirely different man, often spending his time deep in a bottle and with a nose deep in paperwork, with little regard for anyone else around him.

His control, it was typically so consistent, that he knew not to bring his professional problems home. But lately? It’s been anything but typical. He wasn’t what you would call mean, but there was definitely a negative word to describe it. Cold? Apathetic? Perhaps even unwelcoming?

The bickering, if you could call it that, had droned on for several minutes now. Though, it was mostly you venting your frustrations to an uninterested Price. ❝I know it’s not good timing, John. Why the fuck do you think I’m in here trying to reason with you? Are we just supposed to ignore this until we can’t anymore?❞ You hissed, tempted to rip the paperwork from his grip to get him to pay attention.

He always wanted children, but not right now. Naturally, that’s when it happened. He felt like he was drowning, at first only professionally, but now personally too. The funds weren’t a problem, the kid had two parents, but… you and him—nothing was working.

❝Sweetheart, I’m in the thick of it right now. Please.❞ He didn’t need to raise his voice for you to see how irritated he was. Perhaps at the baby, you, himself, or all the above. ❝I have a meeting.❞ He stood up from his workspace, steaming coffee in hand.

John walked away from you like you were a pestering soldier, not the mother of his child. Enough was enough.

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He thought he was slick, only giving you physical checks to see your face, to ensure that you were indeed alright. It was often the coffee shop within equal walking distance of your two separate homes. John would always slide the amount you needed across the table, a look of remorse on his face. Each monthly meeting, your stomach would grow in size, as did your drained expression.

But you wouldn’t talk to him. You would only text him the amount, nod when he asked questions. It was the worst torture you could put a man like John through—one that needed the approval of his loved ones. It just couldn’t happen, not yet. The wounds of how he treated you, they were too fresh, even after nine months of this routine.

To be truthful, you debated on even calling him when you went into labor. You could do it alone, right? With just the support of the delivery nurses, and most of all your baby girl as the reward? Perhaps you could wait until after, give him the respect to at least meet his daughter. For someone not carrying a child, he looked just as beat; sunken eyes, less tidy facial hair than usual, and somehow even more tobacco on his breath.

John was clawing himself from the inside out, begging for something other than a “yes” or “no” from your lips.

—

❝I can’t do this,❞ you repeated it about fifty times, tears streaming down your cheeks from both the pain and the distraught feelings. That plan you had to not call him, it was falling through quite quickly. This level of agony? You needed someone other than a doctor. You needed the father, as much as it pained you to admit.

❝Yes, you can dear, women have babies everyday.❞ Bless the nurse, she was trying her best to keep you calm, but it didn’t work.

What if something went wrong? If somehow you didn’t make it but your baby girl did, she would be alone until he got here… That couldn’t, no—wouldn’t happen. He needed to be there, right beside this bed to hold her in case you couldn’t.

In between your pained grunts, you finally spit out what you’d been trying to tell her, finding a split second of sensibility during all this distress. ❝Call… John. Please, call him!❞

—

The doors swung open faster than any of the personnel, his gaze softening when he saw you breathing in a patterned fashion. The nurse beside you gave him a nod, freeing your hand for him to take her place. John wasn’t going to miss this, and frankly, he was irked that he almost did. But he wasn’t irked at you; he was irked at himself for taking this for granted.

His soothing voice talks you through each contraction, a soothing hand dabbing away the sweat and tears streaming down your face.

❝I got you, sweetheart. You’re almost done pushing.❞ Though he looked gruff on the outside, inside he was distraught. You had maintained the cold shoulder throughout the pregnancy, but you still called him here? You were more than he deserved in his eyes.

The last round of pushing, and they were close together now. You had about thirty seconds to say this, before you were screaming again.❝I’m glad you’re here.❞ Despite all the pain you were in, you gave his hand a squeeze, staring at him with a glossy expression.

His eyes nearly watered; the first sentence you had uttered to him in months, and it was clear you meant every bit of it. You needed him and so did your daughter, right here right now. He pressed a kiss to your temple, a soothing massaging your shoulder.

John kept his tone firm on purpose, to emphasize how deeply he cared for you right now. ❝I’ll always be here for you, love. Always.❞ 

Simon

Simon loved deep; hated even deeper.

It was one of the features that drew you to him in the first place, how blunt he could be, how his broodiness contrasted your personality in more ways than one. His cynical behavior could be humorous, could be reassuring, but most of all—bitter. To add stress to the equation, to bring it home? He was an explosive disaster waiting to happen.

❝Simon,❞ you approached from behind, holding the test in your hands, because you knew the first question he would ask when you told him; is if you took one. Well, if he wasn’t actively cursing under his breath, he would’ve.

Instead, he merely flicked his eyes over for a brief moment, as if you were a stranger on the street that said excuse me. ❝Simon.❞ Your tone grew firmer, clutching the stick with more apprehension.

❝Bloody Christ, what?❞ He shifted in his seat, bloodshot and hooded eyes that only twisted the knife further. You couldn’t tell him now, not with the pressure of being on the spot. The right words just wouldn’t come out, prompting you to put the stick behind your back. ❝Goddamn nuisance.❞ He muttered under his breath as if it was only supposed to be an internal thought. 

Though, he didn’t look all that remorseful about it—at least on the outside.

He had never said anything like that before, at least not to your face. It seemed, all the weeks of tension and cold shoulder, it was enough. You were done and out the door the second he’d dozed.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Simon made a few futile attempts to reach out, but his own stubbornness prevented him from ever being face-to-face. He beat himself up so badly, and from his side of things—he’d only lost one person, not two.

It pained you to ask the delivery nurse to call him. You wanted to shove the crowning newborn right back inside and hold off, to go find him yourself and smack sense into him for putting you through this agony. But you couldn’t. Quite literally couldn’t get up, and didn’t want to. Resulting in pettiness and venom would make you worse than him because you would be using this child as a pawn.

He said nothing, but his eyes said enough. The nurses put a sterile drape over his shoulders, but he paid them no mind. His amber eyes remained on you; a bulging belly and an expression of pure agony. Had he missed something, a crucial chapter of your new life post-breakup? Most of all, why did you call him?

❝Hold my hand.❞ Simon found the side of your bed, allowing you to dig your fingernails into his forearm until there were imprints. He had few words, but the countenance of concern and guilt said it all. If this wasn’t his… you would’ve done this alone, or the father would be here. Then it dawned on him; it was his.

—

Hours passed, and he still hadn’t mentioned the obvious. Nine months without his support—financial or moral. You needed rest, as did the baby girl—so you were getting it, first and foremost. The adult matters would be better talked about when you weren’t still freshly recovering.

Simon tapped his foot against the tile, sitting in the chair beside the bed. He was unsure of who to keep an eye on more; the newborn swaddled in her own crib, or you, exhaustedly sleeping in your hospital bed. Though he’d held the girl, it felt forbidden, like he was only a placeholder until your body recovered enough to do it yourself. It was shock preventing him from feeling, not cruelty.

You stirred awake, a sigh of contempt when you laid eyes on him. The labor was a blur your mind had already shut out, and you truly didn’t recall the nurses contacting him. Your eyes were glossy with dark circles underneath them. ❝I’m…❞ It was like the night you tried to tell him but couldn’t, the words wouldn’t come out.

Simon saw that look in your eyes; the fear that he would explode, or storm out and leave you with the child forever—but he wasn’t. All the years of trying to not relieve the same mistakes his own father made, it would be useless if he did that. And he couldn’t, seeing that look of desperation on your face, how you looked as if you were going to burst into tears at the sight of him. That look, it was the same one that gnawed at him during those months apart, how he found you and your belongings gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. ❝Shh… Don’t apologize. Ever.❞ He was hovering now, a kiss pressed to your forehead. Whatever you decided when you were healed enough, he would take it like a man, because he had the audacity to speak to you like a man who wronged him.

Soap

Soap was… a complicated man to say the least. Usually, he was sweet, charming, with the right amount of cockiness. His ability to make you laugh drew you into him in the first place. But it was dwindling—at least during the past few weeks. Now, all that remained was smugness and bitter mutters under the breath.

❝Don’t be a child about this, we’ll figure it out,❞ He says, slamming his car door behind you. The first time you two had been out to dinner together in weeks, spoiled because you finally broke the news to him. You teared up in the restaurant because his reaction was anything but accepting, and frankly, he found it embarrassing.

He hadn’t meant it that way—that’s just how it came out.

He truly did want to figure this baby thing out, but it was the worst possible timing; an all-time high of stress at work, bickering with you constantly. And now, a third added to the dynamic with only months to prepare? It was too much. ❝Oh, I’m acting like a child?❞ You walked into the house, taking off the jewelry you had on to look nice for him.

The bickering that ensued—it was nothing nice, nothing you’d care to remember.

❝I don’t want you to go, lass. Don’t do this.❞ You had already made up your mind. Perhaps it was your emotions clouding your judgment, that instinct you felt being a few weeks along… It didn’t matter, you couldn’t be here. Not with him, not right now.

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You were about to pop, literally any day now. You knew that meant you would have to talk to the father, and interact with him for about eighteen years—at least be civil. But the rationality of it, how you would have to co-parent with him, didn’t ease your anxieties. Of course, he was adamant about checking up on you and being more of a parasite than the fetus taking half your energy.

You closed the car door with your hip, a slow waddle up the pavement. Where the hell your keys were, that was another story—something you would deal with once you rolled yourself up to the door.

❝What the hell are you doin’?❞ The voice nearly made you drop all the grocery bags in your grasp, a jumpy shriek coming out. When you whipped around, it was Soap, a look of upset on his very expressive face.

Once you started to recover from the scare of a lifetime, an unintentional one at that, a scowl formed on your face. It was like he had a sense of the absolute worst time to show up and annoy you, especially now that you were swollen and extra agitated. ❝A phone call would’ve worked, Johnny. Or, I don’t know, maybe a ‘hey I’m right behind you, lady’!❞ You attempted to mock his accent out of pure frustration, but he didn’t find the humor in it, at least not right away.

He yanked the bags out of your grip, stomping up the steps of your porch. ❝You shouldn’t be carryin’ these.❞ You really should not be doing that, he was right, but the thought of him being your grocery boy—showing up even more? ❝Keys.❞ He held out his free hand, the other one swimming in bags. It was ridiculous, apparently, you weren’t allowed to twist a key now, either.

You shove past him once he’s turned the key, squeezing past and joining him in the kitchen. Without a word, he starts putting away anything and everything you bought. Some are nutritious, others purely to feed your cravings. ❝Don’t start.❞ You pointed a finger at him when he picked up a family-sized bag of candy, a smart-ass comment daring to escape his lips.

❝God, I can’t believe you, Johnny. Sneaking up on me like that, I could’ve fallen.❞ You put an instinctive hand on your stomach, still irked by his presence.

❝No, you would’ve fallen carrying all those bags yourself. I have a right to be worried, it’s my bloody kid too.❞ He retorts, a hand on his hip. He’s done all he’s obligated to now; carrying and putting away your groceries.

You tighten your lips into a line, fighting the urge to start a full-blown argument. ❝Yeah, you remind me every day, so thanks for tha— Shit.❞ It seemed, raising your voice counted as exerting yourself because there was a sudden cramp in your stomach, a trickle down your pant leg.

Soap’s eyes widened, seeing you go from scolding him to hunched over and holding your stomach. You had forced yourself into labor, now standing on knees about to buckle. ❝I’ve got you, now get going woman, before I put you over my shoulder.❞ He felt he had never moved faster, a tight fist around your forearm to keep you standing as he led you through the door you had just walked in.

—

It seemed there was little time between being admitted to actively pushing. This kid wanted out, and right this second. You let out a shriek as the back of your head slammed against the pillow, sweat trickling down your brow as you cursed and wailed. ❝I know it hurts, love, but you got this.❞ He allowed you to clamp down on his hand, to dig your fingertips until they drew blood.

❝Oh, you know do you?!❞ You snapped at him, finding it hard to be nice when you felt like you were being ripped in half.

❝If I wasn’t,❞ you grunted in between words, face scrunched and labored breathing, ❝stuck in this damn bed, I would so… hurt you right now, Johnny.❞ He fought the urge to snicker just a little bit, masking it with his concern for you. Seeing you in agony, even when you were actively snapping at him, it didn’t please him one bit.

Well, you were arguing with him, so he knew you weren’t actively dying.

If you used enough of that anger, it would help you literally push through the pain, just like how it caused the kid to want to come out right this second. For once, his pestering and sarcasm were actually helping.

With one final wave of it, your back arched off the bed and finally, the loud cry of an infant filled the white-walled room. Soap nearly fainted, if he was being honest—he was awfully squeamish for someone who dealt with blood daily. But it was your blood and… fluids, things that made him shiver when he pictured how painful that could’ve been.

The doctors were speedy, cleaning off and checking vitals. All he could do was stare at the newborn—his baby boy. And then he looked at you, choked up and stared in awe at the baby set on your chest. ❝Jesus…❞ he leaned down, placing a gentle hand on yours as it held the child’s head.

All the fighting, all the bickering, even the late-night candy runs—they were well worth it. He had a second chance now, to make things right with you, and to be a decent father.

Gaz

Gaz could be hotheaded, sometimes downright blunt, especially when he’s passionate about something to do with his work. The night you were going to break the news, nothing was going right. He came home in a huff, not bothering to take off his boots before plopping on the sofa. Kyle had a right to be stressed; look at what he does all day. But he didn’t have a right to be cruel to you because of it.

You took a seat beside him and set the positive test down on his thigh. A silence followed by a scowl, and then he finally spoke. ❝You can’t be serious.❞ It nearly gutted you right then and there. His leg began to bounce anxiously the longer he glanced at the life-changing test results. 

❝Kyle, I—❞ you weren’t even sure what you were trying to say either, not that he gave you a chance. ❝I don’t have time for this, babe. I really can’t do this right now.❞ He put his head in his hands, a flustered groan escaping his lips.

❝Are you saying you don’t want this? That we shouldn’t have done this?❞ You were suddenly standing, eyes wide and watering. You felt like you had just been dumped on the street, despite his unclear tone.

He peered up, lips in a blunt line. ❝Maybe we shouldn’t have.❞ You could’ve crawled into a hole and died right then and there, but you merely nodded. Nodded and then left the room, leaving him to his moodiness. No, it wasn’t the best timing, but that didn’t give him the right to brush you off, to treat you like a distasteful afterthought.

It wasn’t just you anymore, it was you and the baby.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

It was one of his few days off—though he wasn’t feeling much relaxation. You were still hot and cold with him, now about halfway through your third trimester; thirty-two weeks to be exact. It was nearing that point, where he had prepared a spare room for the baby, began coordinating plans for labor, etc… 

But he still didn’t feel ready, or like he deserved you after how cruel he was that night. Kyle was only helping you to help you and the baby.

His phone buzzed, right when he had begun relaxing for the evening. 10:32 PM; and it was your number. The second he heard the voice of a nurse on the other line, not yours, his feet were halfway out the front door.

—

❝I’m fine, Kyle. I’m fine…❞ It seemed no matter how many times you repeated it, he didn’t seem to believe it. From the minute he entered your hospital room to now, he had at least one hand on you, a thumb grazing the cuts and bruises on your body. You had been in a car accident—mild for you, life-threatening for a preemie. ❝You’re not fine.❞ he said firmly, eyes darting towards your clothes bagged in the corner—bloodied and with windshield pieces still embedded.

Kyle was more worried about you at first, but you were solely concerned about your baby—left alone in the NICU being poked and prodded by personnel. You had to be induced, otherwise he wouldn’t have made it past the front doors. Now, he was too weak to be visited, too small and vulnerable to be held by his own mother yet. It was gut-wrenching; hours without a solid answer, because his chances depended solely on him making it through the night.

Now, there was nothing to do but wait, perhaps see your baby through a glass box if you got lucky.

—

❝He’s perfect,❞ Kyle peered down at the preemie in his hands, a baggy blue cap on his head. There were small babies, and he was somehow smaller. What once was the scare of a lifetime, it was now a passing memory to remind Gaz of what he could’ve lost. He would never make the mistake of talking to you like that again, even if the two events didn’t correlate.

What if the night you left, you got into an accident then, and it was much worse? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself, plain and simple. ❝It’s cheesy but, he does have your eyes.❞ You whispered from the nursing chair you were sitting in, still healing and fatigued from the ordeal. The picture in front of you; Kyle looking at your son with such love—it was irreplaceable and forever stuck in your memories.

❝Correct. But he has your scowl, babe.❞ Gaz flicked his eyes upwards, feeling you gently nudge his shin at the sound of the comment.

It didn’t matter the things he said months ago, as long as he cherished this new life with you as much as you planned to.

Alejandro

Alejandro always had passion for the things he cherished; you and his work, nothing else mattered more. Passion led to intense feelings, intense feelings turned into misplaced bitterness. It wasn’t your fault that you were expecting, no more than it was his, at least. He knew that and had he just taken a breath and thought more carefully about his phrasing, this whole mess could’ve been avoided.

❝Do you think I wanted to interrupt you, Alejandro?❞ You hissed, standing in the doorway of his office with the positive test in your hands. He had just looked at you with such distaste as if you were the root cause of his stress and not his work.

What better way to stir the pot, than to match his wrath? Well, it certainly did that, though seeing him rage was the last sight you wanted to see. Alejandro always had trouble with his anger, often finding himself with all these feelings he had no clue how to control.

❝You always do what you want!❞ There it was, him blowing his fuse. He’d thrown his hands in the air, face tightened into a scowl. He couldn’t leave it at that, either, not when his rage came in such intense waves. ❝You’ll do what you always do—bleed me dry!❞

You couldn’t speak, despite how vicious you felt only seconds before. It seemed too truthful for your liking like he had been waiting for an excuse to spill his guts. ❝As long as you have enough to amuse yourself, I’m nothing to you, right?❞ He wasn’t yelling anymore, but his mocking tone was enough to tear at your heartstrings.

Had he seriously played that card with you—the man always insistent on taking care of you, financially, physically, emotionally? Now, of all times? The argument ended with you slamming the front door behind you, something he would’ve done.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

You spent weeks ignoring him, and throughout the pregnancy, it was dry texts or brief calls. His only sign that you were even alive was the notification that you had used his account to purchase necessities. The irony of it made Alejandro nauseous, how awful he made it sound that you were doing what he told you to; to let him take care of you. The fact that you didn’t drain the funds, only bought what you needed, spoke volumes.

❝I’m not upset at you, amor—I wasn’t upset with you.❞

Alejandro reached a hand across the picnic table, a firm but loving grip on your forearm. You looked beat; hair a different length than before, exhausted eyes that were brimming with tears, and most of all a growing stomach. It was all his fault; the reason you didn’t want to face him like this, in fear that he would cut you and the baby off for good. Only, he was there to see your face, not for confrontation or another spat.

It didn’t matter what you said, if you screamed at him right now, or said nothing. Alejandro had made up his mind the night you left. ❝I’ll come to every appointment, parenting class, anything.❞

—

Of all the nights for you to be in labor, it had to be during a wicked storm. You had gone over to his house to make civil conversation over dinner, to at least attempt at repairing things. He had slaved over the stove, cooking his favorite for you. For most of the meal, things were… surprisingly tranquil; even romantic.

You were heavily pregnant, were you supposed to refuse a warm meal? Not a chance. You were too full, too swollen to get up out of the dining chair once the meal finished. And looking out the window? There was no way in hell Alejandro was going to let you drive home in this; droplets whipped down, trees and waste bins flew away from the force of it, and the rain was icy. Well, you were exhausted, and he had a bed he was willing to give up. Your back and feet practically sighed in relief when you laid back in his bed, the one you two once shared. It was a nice feeling, being there again and knowing Alejandro was trying his hardest to plead forgiveness.

About an hour into your much needed-slumber, you felt a pool in the sheets. Instinctually, you figured it was the fetus pressing on your bladder—a downright embarrassing thing you’d have to wake up and explain to him. But… it was clear it wasn’t that. You were in labor and stuck here.

The shriek you let out when you got a violent contraction; Alejandro dashed quicker than he ever did when dodging bullets. His fumbling fingers dialed 911, yanking the comforter off the bed to get a better view of your dilation. Fortunately, he was trained on how to deliver a baby when stranded, or in a country without medical support. But this was his baby and your life was in his hands. If he didn’t do this correctly, if something went wrong, he would never forgive himself.

The ambulance wouldn’t be there for an hour—you didn’t have an hour to spare, this baby was coming now. ❝You can do this, amor, we’re doing this together.❞ One hand clenched yours, the other kept an eye on the crowning baby. Just how you hadn’t woken up sooner, neither of you knew. Perhaps you had gotten so used to cramps and pains, that you thought it was just another sleepless night courtesy of the little one.

—

The moment your wails went silent as his baby girl finally came, Alejandro felt his heart drop. He had to make the worst decision; focusing on the newborn first. He wrapped her in one of his shirts, wiping the fluid and blood from her small face. As he cradled her, a quick hand fingered for a pulse, a loud sigh escaping his lips when he felt one. You had only passed out from the pain—probably doing you a service, considering he didn’t have the proper medication to numb your pain.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of the wailing child, still with gritted teeth. But your baby was there—and her lungs were very clearly working. Alejandro set her down on your chest, allowing you to hold your daughter for the first time. ❝You did so well, cariño. Look at her.❞ He was merely distracting you with the baby on your chest, to not divert your attention towards the state your body was in as he cleaned you up.

Somehow, he had pulled this off with both his girls safe, soon to be checked out properly at a hospital. When you first broke the news, he thought he knew the meaning of being so suddenly thrust into fatherhood, but that took on a whole new meaning after tonight.

König

There had once been a line he didn’t cross, but he did that night. König never yelled at you. He saved that stern side of him for his work because it was acceptable there. But in the weeks that his work had bled onto you, spoiling the relationship, his values seemed to loosen. Though he was a complicated man, a man uncertain of himself and his appearance, he maintained a hardness about him. Ruthless in the field and immensely protective of anyone that had come to love him. 

You approached him as he worked, placing the test on the desk he was sitting at. ❝König, I need to tell you something.❞

With his head facing the paperwork, he merely shrugged at you. Until he saw what you’d placed there, his eyes going wide. But it wasn’t shock or excitement; it was disdain for the fact that this baby was just another interruption—you were just another interruption. ❝I have no time for this, Schatz, you know that.❞

He didn’t need to raise his voice for his words to sting, his bitter tone was more than enough. But he surely hadn’t meant it like that, right? He’d meant he didn’t have time for this right now… right?

❝Why don’t you go rest, then?❞ He asks, picking up the folder that he was reading previously. It wasn’t a request made out of concern, König was patronizing you. His glare was typically enough to make a soldier scramble, but you just stood there for a few seconds, biting back the urge to choke.

How you left that night, it wasn’t dramatic or emotional, it was dry. König tells you to think clearly about this, to sleep on it. But you couldn’t—and you weren’t going to be a verbal punching bag.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

König only called you weekly for appointment updates, or to let you know he had sent you a check. Other than that, words dripped with tension and the urge to say so much more. But you were too stubborn for your own good, and so was he. You were more concerned with hosting life than playing games with a father who treated you like a wimp.

He’d only seen you once, during the second trimester when he showed up at your apartment. You protested, but he showed up anyway, saying he needed “proof” that you and the fetus were safe. The voice on the phone wasn’t enough, in his eyes.

Of course, when you needed him most, screaming and keeling over in the kitchen, he wasn’t there. It was a neighbor that called an ambulance for you because they knew they had a pregnant tenant next door. In fact, it was such a close call, you nearly didn’t make it to the delivery room before the newborn came out wailing.

The only plus side? While the paramedics were deterring you from pushing, you’d sent a text—probably unintelligible—but a text, nonetheless. He knew your due date, how today was only a few days off, and he was in his car before he could grasp the severity of this new life stage.

—

❝I’m here, schätzchen. I’m not going to hurt you again, or him.❞ He hunched over the bed, eyes in a perpetual state of disbelief as he watched you soothe the whining newborn. Clarity hit him like a truck when he heard your screams during delivery, and then he was all in. Not that he had a choice, this was his doing too.

He had given you the financial support to get proper nutrition for you and the baby, to pay for the appointments, but that wasn’t enough—not in König’s eyes. He needed to snap out of his self-pity and be a support system. Whether you wanted to co-parent or work on repairing the relationship, you were not under any circumstances taking care of this newborn alone, at your apartment.

He placed a hand in your hair, threading his fingers through the strands. ❝We can clear out the spare room, hm? There’s more than enough room for the two of you.❞ He was already picturing it, how he was going to pull an all-nighter and get to work on the room, going to your apartment and moving the baby supplies from yours to his.

König didn’t need to state the obvious, that you weren’t bound to any type of relationship besides the one concerning the child. Whether you wanted to move out once the baby hit a certain age or not, he was going to keep an eye on the two of you.

Two of you, not just the newborn you were rocking. It was either both of you, or neither, and he was intent on it being the first option.

If you made it this far - THANK YOU!

[cat3ch1sm]

🐇~ HI EVERYONE! welcome back to my account :) im excited for today’s post because this is my first across the spiderverse writing! i hope you guys like it lol i couldn’t stop thinking about it (spiderman is my entire life now)

🐇𓆩♡𓆪☁️ fem!reader, sfw

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮- 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 <𝟑

~ miles g really does not like admitting he likes someone/ or even the idea of liking anyone at all. he obviously has things that are higher priority and he thinks it’s really a waste of time for the most part.

~ but then you come along,and he’s immediately enamored. like, imagine you’re just casually walking by miles while he’s sitting on his phone or whatever, and you accidentally bump into his leg. he looks up immediately to tell you to watch it, but instead is met with the most beautiful face he has literally ever seen. he legit double takes and completely forgets to even talk. you look down abruptly and are like “oh, i’m so sorry, i wasn’t paying attention!” you wait for him to say “it’s okay” or something like that, but when you look at him his expression is just blank. you kinda wave awkwardly and leave after that, and he watches you leave until you’re out of sight.

~ after you’re gone, he just sits there for a second before frowning and cursing at himself for being so caught up.

~…. “shit.”

~ miles g isn’t really the type to watch from afar, at least not for long. but for a short time, he does just watch you, admiring the way you do every little thing- smiling at your phone, the way you walk, how nice your voice sounds- things like that. it’s not long before he decides to make his move.

~the next time he sees you, he makes his move, cornering you when you’re alone and putting one arm beside your head so you can’t leave. needless to say, you’re definitely caught off guard when you turn around and are met with miles’ face- expression nonchalant and that unreadable glint in his eyes as usual.

~ yeah, don’t be fooled. miles is nervous as all hell and praying to every god imaginable that you don’t notice him shaking. but he isn’t the type to let fear or apprehension get in the way of something he wants.

~ “hey, you’re that guy i ran into the other day… um… hi!”

~ your smile almost makes him keel over. Jesus Christ

~ “hey, ma- glad you remember me. was wondering if you was tryna let me take you out sometime? i thought you were pretty.”

~ (yes, the whole atsv fandom has collectively agreed that prowler miles would call you “ma.” argue with the wall)

~ miles is crazy nervous for your response as he watches your expression furrow thoughtfully- but when you smile that smile again and say yes, he feels like a million weights have been lifted off his shoulder. sure, he’s the prowler, but he’s still a 15-year-old boy who probably hasn’t had a lot of experience in the dating arena.

~anyway, that was a fun little scenario- now let’s talk about miles actually going out with you, like how he is during the time where you’re going out but not quite exclusive.

~ the second he gets your socials, he’s all over them. he’s spending an amount of time he isn’t willing to disclose just stating at your pictures and admiring your beauty. he watches your TikToks religiously, liking them all, but literally immediately scrolls past the ones where you’re with any guy. he’s not jealous because he isn’t insecure, but he just does not care to see you with anyone else.

~ whenever you text him, unless he’s busy with prowler stuff, he’ll respond within like ten minutes at most. miles doesn’t want you to think for a second that he’s ignoring you or forgot about you. he has caught himself smiling slightly at his phone while he’s texting you every now and then, which he is so embarrassed about for no reason😭

~ yes, uncle aaron notices.

~ “aye, g, what’s got you cheesin’ at yo phone like that?”

~ “…nothin’, unc.”

~ “you know i can tell when you lyin’, right?”

~ “aw, c’mon-“

~”don’t even bother.”

- and rio notices, too.

~ “ay, miles, why are you on your phone so much lately? you know i don’t like- miles? what’s so funny on your phone?”

~ “nothing, mama.”

~ “nothing’s funny? then why are you smiling at your phone?”

~ “…uh…”

~ “waaaait…” *pause, hands on hips* “miles, are you talking to a girl?”

~ “mami!”

~ “so it is a girl! is it the same girl whose pictures you’ve been looking at lately?!”

~yes, she noticed that too.

~ “…mami!!”

~ “let me see!”

~ the next two minutes are miles and rio madly wrestling for his phone. (spoiler alert, rio wins.)

[yuusishi]

Hmmm. I've got it!

Could I request headcanons of Epel, Riddle and Lilia (the short squad) with a s/o who's a tiny speedy powerhouse? Like their so small and petite but can pack a punch that can knock out a grown man and can run faster than the eye can see.

. . . BITE SIZED PUNCH!!

summary : the bowtie trio with a strong and speedy s/o !

pairings : Riddle Rosehearts , Epel Felmier , Lilia Vanrouge

genre : fluff , slight crack

cws/tws : fights and mentions of injury

a/n : I jus finished the lantern rite story in genshin and FUCK I cried for 10 mins, hope you enjoy the product of me trying not to fall asleep after crying <3

Riddle Rosehearts !!

Riddle probably didn’t meet you, or properly get to know you to be more accurate, until after his overblot. His impression on you for so long was just “small, most likely around my height, but very speedy”.

If you’re in Heartslabyul he most likely had you help around with more outdoor activities like cutting the hedges and gathering the hedgehogs since you can do more work and cover more ground.

But after officially becoming his s/o, that was when he discovered that GOSH you are strong.

He walked to a secluded hallway towards the library when he saw you getting picked on by a bunch of savanaclaw students, all of them double, no, triple your size.

Just when he was about to intervene you struck one of them up the chin and sent him flying.

Guy just stood there like 🧍‍♂️ the entire time.

“[Name], what in the Great Seven happened here!?” you heard him yelling from behind you and you thoroughly explained even if he witnessed the entire one sided brawl.

He helped you clean yourself up and take care of any injuries if you got any while giving you a VERY thorough scolding.

No matter how tired, exasperated, and angry he starts to sound while giving you a scolding, he doesn’t mean it. Although he cares about you and his’s reputations, they don’t come first to your safety and that’s Riddle’s number 1 priority.

The type to get EXTREMELY flustered when he complains about the once in a blue moon event of running late for class and you settle on picking him up off the ground and sprinting to each others’ classrooms.

Straight up almost blacks out on the spot, but both of you weren't late, so in the end he didn't complain <3

Epel Felmier !!

“YEAH, GET HIS ASS, [NAME].”

Your number 1 supporter when you (reluctantly) have to fight against a student.

WILL go feral once one of them seriously hurts you though. One of them could’ve just given you a scratch but Epel will return that tenfold for you.

I don’t think it needs to be said about how often you two get into scoldings with Vil and the punishments that occur.

So now you both settle with just doing heavy-lifting for events such as the VDC, mostly you though since Epel’s busy with performance practice.

When it was VDC season and his group had to pass by the stage where you worked to build, dude literally has to fight for his life not to become redder than the apples back at home when he sees you picking up the construction materials with ease.

Especially with Ace there 💀

As much as he wants to witness you fight even more he’d rather not get himself and you in any more hot water with Vil.

Definitely wants to help you and would rather spend his time working on the stage than all this dance practice, especially with you!!

If you pick him up and start running he’d be scared at first then start to enjoy the feeling of the wind hitting his face, carefree laughter belonging to you two filling wherever you are.

Sometimes, though, he gets jealous. He’s the same height and stature as you, but how are you stronger than him? You have to give him some reassurance or time alone based on his mood, but treat him to something after to not make him feel guilty over being jealous and to take his mind off those thoughts!

Lilia Vanrouge !!

You just surprise the old man every time you’re with him.

Like Riddle, Lilia didn’t have much of an opinion at you at first, you just kind of blended in the crowd for him before you both met.

But the first official time he saw you properly was during alchemy class when your cauldron was mere seconds away from exploding, you managed to pick it up and somehow toss it out the window.

Thankfully, it didn’t damage the sports field nor hit anyone, but you had to sit through a 2 hour lecture from Crewel because the two scenarios could’ve happened.

Malleus and Lilia were in the class with you and witnessed the entire spectacle, the smaller fae couldn’t help but babble on to the briar prince about how a tiny human could’ve picked up a cauldron that you were barely larger than, the only thing that Malleus said was how it reminded him of Lilia before letting him continue rambling.

The next day the tiny fae approached you for the first time, effortlessly making a conversation with you, and everything else that happened in the progression of your relationship is history.

He’s really amused as to how a human like you could even exist, you have no special blood right? Like ones of fae, beastmen, or mermen? No? Now you’ve just piqued his interest even more.

Your responses to his questions is just “I’ve just been like this since I was a child, maybe some things I did helped me build muscle”, and the interrogations continues.

After school Lilia likes having races with you, he soars through the sky while you ran as fast as you could on the ground. And to any student who knew of Lilia’s past (aka Silver, Sebek, and Malleus), they’d be in for a shock once they find out that most of the time it ended in a tie, even more if they were to witness one of those races for themselves.

Other students marvel at your strength but the diasomnia students pray to the Seven you’re strong enough manage to eat Lilia’s cooking.

If you do, the students look at you as if they’d made a scientific breakthrough, if you don’t, well they’re not surprised.

[astayinwonderland]

Silk and Fire - Chapter 6

Read more about the series and find updates here (;

pairing: namjoon x f.reader x jungkook

guest starring: yoongi

genre: romance | drama | smut +18 MDNI

summary: after sharing that steamy kiss with jungkook, things get out of hand and your self-control is tested.

status: ongoing

MINORS DNI PLEASE

warnings: cheating, oral sex (f. receiving), mentions of sex, female orgasm

wc: 3k words

His strong hands lift you off the ground, hugging you so tightly as he spins you, once, twice. Time seems to stop as he puts you back down. Nervousness invades your being, not knowing what’s going to happen next. His hot breath on your ear made it almost impossible to think about anyone else. Namjoon smells your scent, one of his favourite things in the world. He missed you so much, three days was not long, but he craved to have you this close. He needed it like oxygen.  

Namjoon lips find yours and he takes his sweet time with you. He kisses you softly, slightly tasting you, just a tease. Now he has plenty of time to be with you and make up for these three days when he couldn’t touch your warm, soft skin or kiss your beautiful lips. He grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you closer and that’s when your mind, body and soul remember– Jungkook. 

“Babe?” you say, breaking the kiss. 

Namjoon looks into your eyes, a loving smile drawn on his lips, making his cute dimples show up. Your heart accelerates. 

“I love you,” you hear the sheer excitement in his voice. That excitement that boldly punches your gut and makes your heart sink in anguish.

“Love you too,” you kiss his cheek. 

In all honesty, you loved him, you couldn’t deny that. But you also can’t deny that Jungkook is in your life now, you crossed that line with him last night– well not entirely. Nonetheless, a kiss is a kiss, and how his lips seemed to own yours was addictive. You secretly hope you end up nowhere near Jungkook in the next couple of days while you detox from last night’s encounter. 

“Where did your mind go?” Namjoon asks puzzled. 

“Huh? No… I am just tired, that’s all.” 

Namjoon nods, he is always so understanding. 

“Put on something cute, we are going out,” he gives you a little push and you just know you would do anything for this man. 

From Namjonn you expected anything… but maybe not this. The place is small but quite elegant with white tablecloths and candles. The dim-lit French restaurant had an alluring atmosphere and the food smelled beyond amazing. Camille and Yoongi sit and you can see them in their ‘bubble state’ where they act as if no one’s watching. Your friend is talking effusively. Bright eyes, her voice a bit louder than usual, a thing she does when she’s excited. Yoongi’s face rests on this hand, admiring, all ears, just for her. It is curious, you think, did Namjoon bring you here just to remind you of what you are when your pussy isn’t leaking for Jungkook? 

“Oh, hi!” Camille waves. 

You rapidly find yourself sitting before the soon-to-be newlyweds. This is not your first time on a double date with them, but you assumed Namjoon would like some time alone after spending several days apart. Underneath, you are grateful, being alone with him makes your guilt surface and that’s the last thing you need. 

Grateful for the change of scenery for the evening, this ‘special outing’ was great. Food was better than you could have imagined and you had time to catch up with Camille’s out-of-the-ordinary ideas for the rehearsal dinner and bachelorette party. Yoongi seems to be happy she is happy, and if this isn’t love… well– 

“Hi, sorry I’m late,” that voice… you could feel the vibrations of that voice and know who it is. 

Why is Jungook here? 

“When have you ever been sorry for being late?” Yoongi laughs, making room for his friend to sit. Now you are stuck between Namjoon to your right and Jungkook in front of you. 

Jungkook’s lips curve into a smile when his eyes meet yours, but your breathing seems off now that Namjoon holds your hand. Is the room spinning? 

“Ah, Jungkook I’m glad you could join us,” Namjoon adds as he squeezes your hand endearly. 

Tension could be cut with a knife, but this just seemed to be in your head. Camille relaxes, leaning over Yoongi’s shoulder as she laughs at Jungkook’s goofy grin. 

“Isn’t it weird for you?” your eyes find his. 

“What do you mean?” Jungkook replies, bringing his broad chest forward. Close enough for you to get the magnificent view of his firm, broad chest. 

“I– don’t know. I thought this was going to be a double date thing,” you mumble quietly. 

“Ah, don’t you worry about him. Bet he already has a hot babe as his date for the wedding,” Camille adds. Yoongi agrees by nodding quietly and shooting a mischievous look at his friend. 

“Oh, no… no,” Jungkook starts, dismissing the comments with a wave of his hand. “I have someone I can’t take out of my mind though. She is so fiery, and feisty. The type I dream of again and again,” 

“You’re so screwed…” Namjoon laughs, innocently sipping his drink as your heart is about to shoot out of your chest. 

Jungkook keeps his mouth shut, reminiscing on what to say next. He is confused, for sure, the way he wants to turn your world around and get lost in you again and again until the only thing in your brain is his name… Call him doomed, if you must. He can smell you from across the table, you don’t notice but his nostrils want to inhale your scent forever. How could he do this to Namjoon? One of his closest friends, an older brother figure who has protected and counselled him throughout the years. 

This is crazy. 

A thoughtful smile finally appears on Jungkook’s lips. 

“You have no idea how screwed I am,” his eyes avoid Namjoon’s. Instead, he looks directly into yours. Eyes so deep you wish you could just shut your eyes and erase this from your memory. But how can you when his mere touch electrifies your entire being? Is a fascinating thrill you’ve never experienced before, and now, you crave it again. 

Your anxiety peaks as the dinner passes and now Camille orders dessert. Yoongi agreed to split it with her and Namjoon wanted some ice cream. It seems like the only people who were not hungry for dessert were you and the tattooed man across the table whose eyes looked at you as if you were the most exotic prey. Not exactly to eat but to keep captive, submissive to his thoughts and desires. You hate to admit this, but somehow, your legs start to tremble and the wet feeling between them cannot be stopped. 

A familiar, yet irritating buzzing sound of your boyfriend’s phone interrupts your train of thought. Namjoon excuses himself to take a work call and you are not even surprised. Late work calls have begun to come a little bit too often, he worries you will get upset, but to be honest, your mind has other concerns. What are you going to do about Jungkook? There is not much you can do, just ignore him. Ignore the way he makes you feel. Ignore the way your lips tingle and the thought of him kissing you again. Ignore the thought of his strong hands travelling from your back to your hair, fisting and pulling it as the result of mere passion. 

“I promise it won’t be long. Babe?” Namjoon’s eyes look into yours. 

“Sorry, I was lost in thought.”  You come back to your senses to see that the check has already been paid thanks to your boyfriend’s card. Camille and Yoongi are already up getting their coats. Jungkook seems to be waiting outside. 

“I need to stop by the office real quick. Would you come with me or I can drop you off and maybe we’ll watch a movie later?” His smile is so beautiful you want to say yes. Yes to everything. You have the most considerate, amazing person on Earth, this is what you need to focus on, but suddenly it wasn’t so easy. You need time to think and decompress. 

“I’ll just walk home. I’m in for the movie later if you promise you won’t fall asleep,” you answer playfully. 

“See you later.” Namjoon lifts your chin and plants a firm kiss on your lips. It’s sweet, yet has a force that makes your knees weak. 

—----------------------------------------

Because the restaurant was six blocks or so away from your house, you had no problem walking. It was your idea. It was refreshing even, the night was cool but not too windy. You needed to move and release all temptation. Nevertheless, it was quite unfortunate when all that peace was interrupted. You were so lost in thought you almost missed the deafening sound approaching you. It was like deep screeching announcing that you had just arrived at the gates of hell. It was a bike. No, it was the bike and riding it, Jungkook. 

Your hand quickly covers your heart in shock as Jungkook grins cheesily. His helmet still on, black visor up. 

“You like it?” 

“Gosh, don’t scare me like that!” 

“I can’t believe you are walking home. Let me give you a ride,” he innocently winks at you. But deep down you know there is nothing innocent about that wink or that invitation. 

“I rather walk,” you answer a little bit louder, the noise of the motor a little bit too loud for your liking. “Helps me clear my mind.” 

“Why does your mind need clearing?” 

Damn, he is so persistent. You don't answer right away, but you do observe the way his chest rises and falls under his shirt. How his pecs were outlined, his arms holding his body in position to ride… Ride… Before your brain can process it, you find yourself getting on the back of the bike, Jungkook putting a helmet on you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, this is a thrill you’ve never experienced before but somehow you needed it. You want it again and again, the euphoria, the never-ending high. 

Without turning his back, Jungkook carefully reaches out for your arms. His mind is alert and sharp, he believes the wrong move will send you running for the hills. So he takes his time, to take your hands in his with a sweet but tantalising demeanour. Your hands finally land on his torso, barely touching him, but your chest against his back feels how tense he is. 

“Now, just hold on tight, baby.” 

He speeds and the scream you were holding back finally comes out. Jungkook can barely hear you, but the way you now hold on to him for dear life is the way he has dreamt of since he first laid eyes on you. Fuck, the way he wants you to be his is sinful, wrong, even perverse. Would he be the bad person for wanting you this much, if so, then he’ll be damned. He is willing to risk it all. As your smell mixes up with the wind, Jungkook feels in heaven, while your wanton gets worse and you are sure you are in hell. 

It took you about 5 minutes to realise you were not heading to your house at all. Instead, you were going in the opposite direction. You were getting further and further from the city’s downtown. You tried not to panic, but when Jungkook drove that bike from the top of a hill, you clutched so tightly that your hands were clawing his chest. 

“Hey… hey…” he laughs. “It’s okay, we’re here.” 

You open one eye and only then do you catch up with reality. You are outside Jungkook’s apartment. 

“Come in, it’s getting cold.” 

Speechless. Are you going into his apartment? Are you ready to confront whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you? But when he extends his tattooed arm and helps you out of the seat like a gentleman, you secretly wish he’d fuck you right there. No shame. 

—--------------------------------------------------

Jungkook’s apartment is nice and neat. Minimal decor, a lot of earthy tones, feels empty but just enough at the same time. Still holding your hand, he takes you to the kitchen. 

“Coffee?” 

“No, thank you. I would stay up all night if I have coffee,” you kindly answer, giving his hand a little squeeze. Ugh you know it is dangerous when he looks down at his hand and then his eyes land on your lips. 

“Okay, no coffee…” but then he closes the space between you and suddenly the air is sucked out of the room and there’s only him. “You sure about not wanting to stay up all night?” his breath combined with some liquor courage he had with dinner was now inches from your face, he was too close, way too close. 

“Jungkook…” you hesitate, but little did you know the mere action of saying his name like that turned him on. 

Fire engulfed him as you turned your head away but still gave him so easy access to your neck and shoulders. How easy would it be to rip you out of that pretty blouse you are wearing… Hmmm and that flowy skirt has to go. 

“Be mine,” he breathes against your skin, planting then a wet kiss on your neck just below your ear. Sealing his actions like a death sentence, he repeats himself again and again while trying not to burst into his pants. What is it about you that makes him want everything you are, possess you. 

“Be mine,” his tongue now freely travels from your shoulder to your earlobe, sucking it. 

Your body gives in. Like a moth to the flame, your lips find Jungkook’s and in an instant, this growing heat forms in your belly. His kisses are urgent, forbidden, and lustful, his hand fists your hair so painfully good you can’t help but moan into his mouth. Everything about him is exquisite. His other hand grabs your waist now, and you find yourself sandwiched between the kitchen countertop and Jungkook’s body. His body gets so hot listening to your tiny cries and moans as he lifts you for you to sit in front of him. This is how he wants you, mind crowded with filthy thoughts of him only. Desperate for his touch, wishing he was there day and night to please you again and again until you can’t take it anymore. 

Jungkook breaks off the kiss and takes a look at you. What a fucking wonder. Your lips are puffy, breasts are slightly exposed from the rough makeout session. They move with your accelerated breathing which makes him feel somewhat proud. Your eyes are blown with lust and even though he feels he can cum right there with merely the sight of you this is not how he wants it to happen. No. You have to use your words, you have to agree. 

When Jungkook kneels, your brain seemed to stop working, but when he put his head between your legs, shit, you were in big trouble. His arms grab your thighs for you to stay still for him, and then he licks your entrance already dripping for him. Your panties stuck to your pulsating pussy. Jungkook looks at you with the charmiest of smiles. 

“You are using the ones I bought. I knew you would look so fucking good in these…” with each word, he would lick your entrance, the poor fabric just soaked in your juices and his spit. 

“Be mine,” he says again. This time, he bites your inner thigh, licking and kissing it right after to soothe the sudden pain. 

But you loved it, every single touch is like a current that travels under your skin and ends in your clenching hole. You hand grabs his hair and you pull him to where you need him most, and with a swift move of your underwear to the side, his tongue is deep inside you. 

Fuck! 

You have to be honest, he eats you out like no one has ever before. That thought will be tormenting you for weeks, you know that. It is wrong, you should stop. But then, one of his fingers slides into you making your eyes roll back in pleasure. The moaning of his name involuntarily escaping your lips, you are louder now. Hips rocking back and forth as his lips suck your clit. With a little curve of his finger, you jolt. 

“Right t-there, yes,” you whisper. 

“Are you gonna be good and cum for me?” 

“Yes!” 

“Do you want me?” he inserts another finger in. 

“Yes!” 

The heat that once resided in your belly is now all over your body. Tears already threatening to leave your eyes as your orgasm approaches. So you close them. His tongue presses hard on your click and with one more thrust of his perfect fingers, you cum for him, your body shaking under his touch as he slows down his pace. 

You reopen your eyes to find Jungkook leaving little kisses on your thighs. His eyes search yours and you see something in them you never did before. Pure bliss. 

—------------------------------------------------------

“Can you believe the wedding is in a week?” 

Camille’s voice echoed in the changing room while both of you tried your dresses for the nth time. She looks gorgeous, the dress fits like a glove. You, on the other hand, are still trying to slip into the dress. 

“Well, someone has been occupied! Miss, is that a hickey on your thigh?” Camille acts shocked and you can’t help but feel embarrassed and hide it. 

“This week isn’t about me, this is all about you!” 

“Oh shut the fuck up. Are you spicing things up in bed?” 

“Something like that…” 

And God you want to tell her, she will snap you out of it, but how can you deny yourself of the most exciting oral sex you’ve ever had? This will all be over as soon as the wedding ends, you hope. 

Your phone chimes. 

Wanna come again? 

Shit. What are you going to do about Jungkook?

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

do not copy or translate

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨ hiiii I am back after being mentally and physically ill for months. I am not completely healed, but I felt inspired and this came out. Message me if you wish to be in the taglist <3 next chapter is on the works.

taglist: @paramedicnerd004 | @darkuni63 | @bangtans-momma | @diorh0seokie | @gimeow

[simp4wom3n]

Embarrassed and Adorable

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request @the-night-owl-blr

Summary: After a day of relaxing together, Y/n mindlessly scrolls through TikTok as Jenna gets ready for bed, where to their amusement, they find Jenna’s old musical.lys. ~ Word Count: 889 ~ Warnings: none just very fluffy

A/N: Hi!! This one is a bit shorter than my others but hopefully you guys still like it. I’m getting a move on with the requests do not fear <3

It was times like these that you loved.  You and your girlfriend Jenna, both finally having days off work, lounged around the house all day refusing to leave each others side as you spent time together that you would typically spend far apart. You watched movies, you cuddled, you danced, you laughed, you baked. You did everything a girl could want, especially if it was with the love of you life.

Sadly, the day was slowly coming to an end. The subtle glow of the moon reflected through the windows of your bedroom, dimly lit by a lamp on your bedside table, where you lay on your shared bed, scrolling on TikTok as you waited for Jenna to getting ready for bed. You had only gone on the app to distract yourself from your girlfriend's brief absence, only to have that absence filled in in a way you weren’t expecting. While scrolling through your usual content, you came across a video of Jenna, but it wasn't one of the thirst traps or edits you'd seen so many times before; it was an old video of her from musical.ly. It was, in fact, her entire old account.

'No way,' you mumbled under your breath as your lips cracked into a warm smile. You couldn't help but chuckle at your discovery, filling the once quiet room with your laughter. “What’s so funny” you hear Jenna ask innocently from the bathroom. “Just TikTok” you snicker earning a hum in return. You were sure you'd be doubled over laughing if you weren't lying down on your stomach.

Scrolling through her videos, you were introduced to a younger Jenna who you regrettably never had the opportunity to meet. It felt like you were watching an entirely different person, one you were still very much in love with and makes you laugh harder than you ever had before. Some of them in particular made you laugh so hard that you gave up attempting to suppress your amusement. Jenna could hear the echo of your laughter from her place in front of the mirror, busy taking off her makeup. Jenna adored the sound of your laughter. The sound alone could brighten her mood instantly. Her adoration also meant that she was very curious at to what was causing the heavenly sound.

Dressed in only underwear and an oversized top - looking as beautiful as ever you might add - Jenna finally comes into the bedroom following the melodic sounds of your laugh. “Ok what on earth is so funny” shes questions looking at you amused, trying to at least hear what’s got you so entertained. She finally recognizes the sound playing repeatedly as she circles the room to her side of the bed to charge her phone, even though it wasn't what she expected.

“Is that one of the sounds from when musical.ly was a thing?” she chuckles brushing away the hair that framed her face as she tries to sneak a look at your phone. You quickly roll onto your back, hiding your screen on your chest, looking at her cheekily as she feigns offence. “Not just any musical.lys” you confess giving her a knowing look. After a few moment of her staring at you in confusion, you decide to help her out by turning your phone around so she can see.

Met with a video of her old self, Jenna’s mouth drops as she looks at you in horror, her cheeks ablaze as she tries to grab the phone from your hand. “Not happening” you giggle as retract your phone, dodging her hand and laughing at how adorable she looks when she’s embarrassed.

“Stop. Give me your phone. Y/n I swear…” she objects climbing on top of you whilst you just continue to laugh your head off. “Give me it” “Nuh uh” “Y/n I swear to god” “Come get it then”. She keeps tackling you and climbing all over you as the two of you roll around on the bed, your shared laughter reverberating off the walls. You manage to keep your phone away from her for a decent amount of time however you eventually give up trying to defend it as she straddles you and pins you to the bed.

She snatches it from your grip with a victorious smirk, “Never again” she giggles. You're so out of breath from laughing that you just lie there and stare at her, a huge grin on your face. Eventually craving more of her touch, you raise yourself to meet Jenna's eye level while she is still on top of you. You always admired her appearance just before bed. No makeup, no extravagant outfits, just Jenna. With a cheesy smile, you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her back down onto the bed.

As she continues to lie on top of you, you gently take your phone from her hand and set it down on your nightstand before turning back to her. “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed” you whisper, your lip’s upturned in amusement as you place a small kiss on her head. “Shut up” she murmurs with a small chuckle into your chest as she snuggles closer. Turning off the lamp, you wrap your arms around her, exhaling in content as you stroke her back softly. “I love you” “I love you too”.

———————————————taglist——————————————

@nitchxhdc @emeraldevan @looseheartedlady @the-night-owl-blr @badassjaguar @txmxav @oh-thats-cute @blckrwidow @cacciatricediartemide @flaiire1805

[cursedonyx]

How HL boys would react to you getting pregnant

Garreth Weasley

All Garreth wants is a big, happy family, though he makes sure it’s what you want as well. He does a very comical double take when you give him the news then he has a bit of a moment where he looks like he’s about to split in two because on the one hand, he wants to pick you up and whirl you around (then immediately tear your clothes off) but on the other he’s terrified of hurting you.

He is the most attentive, caring, adoring partner while you’re incubating. Nothing is too much trouble, and he’ll happily juggle all the housework and cooking while making sure your every need is met. He’ll rub your feet, carry you to bed, brush your hair and make you feel like the most desirable woman in the entire world. This won’t end after the kid’s born either – if anything, Garreth doubles his efforts. His energy and patience is limitless, but don’t take advantage of his kind nature. Garreth’s kids are his priority at the end of the day and should push come to shove, he will choose them over you.

Leander Prewett

When you give Leander the news, he’s completely dumbfounded. When it sinks in, he faints. Literally keels over and passes out. When he’s had a strong cup of tea and enough time to process he’s over the moon, practically giddy with happiness. For him, this is proof that you’re committed to him and him alone. He’s always been insecure, so to actually create a baby witch or wizard with you, merging yourselves into one brand new being is the ultimate expression of devotion for him. He’ll make a lot of mistakes along the way, but he tries very, very hard to get things right.

Amit Thakkar

He’s exceedingly nervous about the whole thing, but vows to do things properly. He’s attentive and caring and spends a ridiculous amount of time reading about the subject to try and help prepare you both as much as possible. Coming from a large and loving family himself, chances are his relatives are going to descend on the household and help out in whatever way they can – it can get a little overwhelming. If it’s too much for you, Amit’s got no problem in standing up to his family and asking for space for you. Where you and the bun are concerned, Amit’s the bravest man in the world.

Andrew Larson

He’s a bit worried to begin with, wishing the two of you had more time together as just you two before things change, but he’s keen to experience the next stage of life with you. He does tend to work a little later in the evenings than before, but that’s mainly to make sure you’ve got a comfortable amount saved in case of any emergencies. This can mean you’re left alone more than you’re comfortable with, so you’d need to have a conversation with him to find a good balance for you both.

Sebastian Sallow

He knew it was a risk what with the amount of sex you had, but he’s still upset about it. He doesn’t want to be a parent. He doesn’t want to give up on his dreams. He doesn’t want to give up the life he has with you. He goes into denial. He begs you to terminate. He tries every trick in the book, even disappearing for a week or so to try and clear his head.

If you insist on keeping it he’ll stay by your side in the end because he’s hopelessly in love with you, and he’ll do his damndest to be a good and loving parent (because Merlin only knows he never wants a kid to suffer what he did) but at his core is resentment and loss. His life isn’t what he wanted it to be, and it hurts, and he hates that he can’t feel the connection to the kid like you can. He never truly bonds with it, despite trying his hardest, and he ends up feeling left out of his own family. He misses when it was just you, when he felt loved and needed and wanted. With a kid, your attention rests on him only to make sure he’s doing chores. Eventually, he’ll vanish in the middle of the night, and you won’t find him again.

Ominis Gaunt

He’s horrified. Devastated. Inconsolable. He’s taken every possible precaution, made so much effort to make sure this never happened, but somehow it has. The last thing he wants is to further his family line, hell, he doesn’t even like children or babies. He feels sick and cold, and he can’t find it in himself to be happy. He honestly wants to run away, and seriously considers it. One of the first serious conversations you had when you started dating was about this, and how he never wanted children, and should the worst happen, he’d want you to get rid of it. He likes things to be a certain way, where it’s safe and secure and predictable, not horrible and chaotic and expensive and awful with something he never wanted to exist taking up your every spare moment.

He would leave you if you kept it. No matter his honour or gentlemanly way, he is firm in his decision as he has been firm since the very beginning of your relationship. He told you what would happen and he sticks to it. He’ll provide from a distance, but he would consider this to be a betrayal of his trust, a betrayal of something vitally important to him – it would show him he doesn’t matter enough to you if you chose a bundle of cells over him. If you did terminate, his relief would be so great he’d probably collapse in your lap and stay there for as long as he’s allowed to.

Masterlist

[muddyorbsblr]

summoned pt1

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: After what could probably be the worst birthday of your life, a mysterious shadowy figure appears in your bedroom while you were sleeping.

Pairing: Incubus!Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: language; A+ parenting that would impress Odin; inaccurate summoning rituals; Loki feeling you up in your sleep [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Loki's a sex demon, not a god in this one

Worst. Birthday. Ever.

You walked through your apartment grumbling those exact words as you finally toed off your cinching pumps and padded your feet over to the kitchen counter, placing the little cupcake you'd gotten for yourself as a pitiful excuse of a 'celebration' for today. A joke, really, considering what a colossal shit show the day had turned out to be.

First the printer had jammed, keeping you waiting in queue for over three hours just to complete the solitary task that was in your workload for today that kept you from ending your day earlier and hopefully finding a way to actually celebrate despite your entire family being too busy to even call for a simple "Happy Birthday, Y/N" greeting over FaceTime. Something about them all going out to celebrate your sister getting cast as an understudy to a secondary character in her school play.

And then to add salt to the wound, not even HR could bother to have invited you to the free lunch they arranged for this month's celebrants. They told you that it must have slipped their minds when they were orienting you.

"It didn't even cross your minds to double check when your total number of celebrants for the year didn't match your total number of employees?" you asked them, trying to keep your composure because, after all, you still needed this job to pay your goddamn bills.

"Honestly, Miss Y/L/N, we just thought that the system glitched. It was just off by one. We didn't think anything of it."

A glitch. That was what you were to this company. Hell, to your family as well. Barely even a blip on the radar. Just something they remember actually existed when everything else managed to go wrong in their lives.

Now here you were, sitting in your little one bedroom apartment in New York, alone and lonely on your 29th birthday, wondering how you could have lived your life so invisibly that nobody even noticed you'd somehow slipped so far between the cracks that you were collecting dust in a corner of the room that nobody could see, let alone reach. How could you have gone your entire life and you didn't even have someone to call when you wanted company?

How could you have been so alone that nobody would even think of you if they wanted company?

You decided there was no harm in making a wish for yourself as you searched for a lighter for the tiny candle to cap off the dismal start to the final year of your 20s. You took out a piece of paper and scribbled your wish, tears prickling in the back of your eyes as you penned the words.

Someone that makes me feel less alone.

You lit up the candle and held the paper to the flame, a tear escaping your eye as you whispered the words, "This is all I want." You watched as the tiny sheet became engulfed in flames, disappearing into ash floating around the air so quickly that your fingers didn't even have enough time to feel the fire licking across your skin.

"Happy Birthday, Y/N," you sighed, blowing out the candle. "Another banner year," you whispered sarcastically into the dark silence.

You went about the rest of your night in the shroud of darkness, making the split second decision to change into a black silk negligee that you'd been reserving to wear for when you finally had someone to spend the night with rather than just spend a fleeting half hour with before you ended up leaving their apartment because you just couldn't feel a connection.

Perhaps the time had come to accept that you weren't meant to have that type of connection. With anyone.

With that depressing thought taking over, you laid down in bed and allowed sleep to take you, letting your thoughts drift into nothingness as you focused on the dark and the quiet that surrounded you. The same dark and quiet that always surrounded you.

What you heard next might as well have shot ice straight through your veins. "Well…hello. Aren't you a pretty thing."

It's just a nightmare, you told yourself. Just squint your eyes really hard and you'll wake up.

You tried to squeeze your eyes as hard as you could, but you could still feel that you weren't quite alone, the faint touch of a hand ghosting over your body on top of your comforter, the husked voice humming in a sound that vaguely resembled satisfaction. "How fortunate of me to have been called to such an exquisite creature." You stilled as you felt a warm breath by your cheek, followed by the feel of a tongue tracing along the shell of your ear. "We're going to have such fun together."

When you felt the hand slide under your comforter, warm fingertips beginning to trace along the column of your neck, was when you finally found it in you to move. Perhaps if you couldn't squint your way awake, then you'd just have to jolt your body into waking by any means necessary.

The only thing was…you were awake. And in the darkness you could see the silhouette of a man with long hair hovering over you. You let out a scream so loud you were sure the roving guard in your building was about to break down your door for fear that you were getting slaughtered in your bedroom.

The shrill sound was enough to have the figure seem visibly taken aback that it gave you just enough leeway to push him off of you and propel yourself out of bed. "You have ten seconds to tell me who you are before I…I…" You fumbled around in your bedside drawer, not once taking your eyes off of the intruder's distractingly sculpted silhouette, and grasped the letter opener you kept inside. "Before I slash at you with this. Ten!"

"I have no need to explain myself. You summoned me."

"Keep telling yourself that, buddy. Nine!"

"Do you truly not recall summoning me, you beguiling little creature?"

"Creature??" you shrilled. "Alright that's it, you just knocked five seconds out. Four!"

"Alright wait, wait! If you truly do not recall then perhaps we can discuss this? Preferably without meager weapons," he said, holding his hands up in a show of surrender. You proceeded to shout Three, making him let out a sibilant exhale. "If you won't listen to reason, then perhaps I must make you listen."

In the next moment, the figure disappeared, thin wisps of smoke being the only indicator that there was even anything that once occupied the space he stood in.

You started to let out another shrill scream into your now empty bedroom, only for the sound to die in a muffled squeak as the intruder re-materialized right beside you, clamping a large hand over your mouth…and nearly half your face.

"Shhh little mortal, please. I'm not here to harm you." You could feel yourself relaxing into his almost tender hold on you as he whispered the words into your ear, your reaction leaving you both shocked and appalled at yourself. "I swear, I am simply here because I was summoned. To perform a purpose. If what you say is true and you truly do not recall, then perhaps we could find out together why I've been brought here?"

Well shit, when he puts it that way, I must be a complete nimrod to keep screaming, huh? you hissed sarcastically at yourself. Considering that his hand was still covering your mouth, you simply nodded your response slowly, allowing him to take the letter opener from you with his free hand.

"If I release you, do you promise not to scream?" You let out a long exhale through your nose, slowly nodding your answer again, relief beginning to flood your system as he pulled his hand away from you and you began to walk to turn on the lights in your bedroom.

"Look I don't know who you are or what you are or what the fuck you're doing in my home, but I can promise you, on my life, I didn't summon you," you started, already emotionally exhausted from the disappointment of the day combined with this bizarre encounter from…wherever this intruder came from, with his tricks and smoke and mirrors. When you flipped the switch and your bedroom became awash with a warm white glow, you finally got a good look at your unexpected visitor.

But now I definitely wish I did, you thought to yourself. He was…for lack of a better, more fitting word, beautiful. A face that seemed as if it was sculpted and perfected by the greatest artists history had ever known, and that same scrupulous attention to detail had been given to the rest of him, too.

You never did understand back then what the women in your office meant when they described a man as someone that looked "built for sex". But now…looking at the man who stood mere feet away from you? Now you understood them perfectly.

"How about we start with why you believe I summoned you to begin with? And maybe names?" You struggled to maintain eye contact with him as he tilted his head at you, angling his body in a way that suggested he was about to approach you again. "I'm Y/N. And you are…?" You extended your hand to shake, a gesture that honestly seemed so ridiculous considering what had just happened moments ago, and where you two were.

"I am Loki. Of the Incubi," he replied, taking your hand in his. However, instead of shaking it like you'd expected, he raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, the action taking you by surprise right alongside the information he'd just revealed to you with those few words.

"Incubi? Sex demons?" you huffed out incredulously as you began to break into a fit of laughter, pulling your hand away from him. "Now I'm definitely sure you got your wires crossed somewhere. See, Loki, there's no fucking way that I summoned a sex demon. We can start with…I don't even know how."

Your laughter faded into a little squeak as you felt his fingers lightly grasping your chin, tilting your head so that he could take a good look at you. You began to squirm under his gaze as the moments ticked by. "I believe you," he breathed out, the disappointment visible on his face. "A shame. How I would have enjoyed being pleasure-bound to one as breathtaking as you."

His words rung with such an unapologetic honesty that it had you fighting back the heat rising in your cheeks…and swirling in your lower stomach. The way he moved his hand to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, only worsened your already building desire for the man. No, not a man…demon. As if reminding yourself that he wasn't what he seemed was going to quell that fire; if anything, it might even make it worse, especially considering what kind of demon you were dealing with.

"Perhaps you unknowingly summoned me, then," he murmured, his face hovering so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your lips as he spoke. "Was there anything that you did tonight that was out of your regular routine? Perhaps that could lead us to…well, where we are now."

You moved out of his hold with an audible sigh. "Alright…well, I came home from work. It was my birthday, so I made a wish on the candle of my cupcake." You started walking out to the living room/dining area of your  apartment, half-heartedly waving toward the space as if to say 'this is where that happened'.

"Quite curious…" he trailed off, walking to the kitchen counter and running two fingers across the surface, placing wholly inappropriate thoughts in your mind about what kind of devastation those sinfully, egregiously long digits could possibly wreak on your body. "And how did you make this…wish?"

You started walking around your living room, trying to retrace your steps since you came home from work earlier, up until you also reached the kitchen counter, trying not to focus too much on the feel of his hand now resting on your lower back, fingers loosely curved around your waist as if he was ready to pull you towards him at a moment's notice.

"I wrote it…on a piece of paper," you muttered, placing your hands on the countertop, willing your memory from a few short hours ago to return to you. "I said 'This is all I want', and then I burned it on the flame before I blew the candle out."

It barely registered to you that he'd moved so that he was standing directly behind you as you were recalling the events before you went to sleep, his hands now resting on either side of your waist, holding you loosely against him. "Hmm…there it is, then. Your wish that you set aflame, that is what summoned me." You fought against your instinctive urge to lean in to his touch and shudder at the way he was whispering in your ear, lips hovering so close that you could feel them ghosting over your skin as he spoke. "Tell me, darling, what did you wish for?"

A shuddering breath escaped you as you felt him move, tracing his nose down the column of your neck, ghosting his lips along the curve between your neck and shoulder, all the while whispering against your skin his soft-spoken command to tell you what you'd wished for that resulted in him being summoned to your home.

"I wished for someone that would make me feel less alone," you sighed your admission, your words barely audible as you fought against your urge to tear up again.

You felt Loki tense against you, maneuvering you so that you would turn and face him, a mix of confusion and concern rife on his devastatingly beautiful features. "I must admit, I'd never been summoned by a wish so…vestal." He reached up and proceeded to push locks of your hair away from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear. "Usually when I am summoned the wish is more…carnal in nature."

"Because sex demon…" you muttered, smirks tugging at the corners of your mouths.

"Indeed," he answered you, a low chuckle escaping him as he tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. "Your accidental summoning of me does not change the fact that I am now bound to you, darling mortal. I cannot leave you be until I've fulfilled your needs." A shiver ran through you at his words, worsening when he leaned down, hovering his face mere inches away from yours as his hand traveled down the length of your arm wrapping his fingers around your own hand. "Come with me then."

You chose not to move as he began to lead you through your apartment, standing still and causing him to look back at you when he was met with resistance at your joined hands. "Come with you where, exactly?"

"Back to your bedroom, of course."

"I thought I made it clear that--"

"We're not to go there so that I may bed you, darling," he cut you off with a knowing smirk. "Unless, of course, that would satisfy your needs. In which case I would be more than happy to oblige."

You felt your walls clenching around nothing at his suggestion, tempted beyond reason to take him up on his offer even though you knew that while there was no doubt that sex with someone literally made for it would be mind-blowing, the last thing you needed was another meaningless romp in bed. "Then why exactly are you bringing me back to my bedroom?"

"Your wish," he began, relaxing his hold on you and walking back to stand mere inches from you. "It was for companionship, was it not?" You nodded mutely, a squeak escaping you as you felt his hand at your side, his thumb gently stroking along your ribcage. "From what I've observed with your kind, to sleep alone when one yearns for companionship may be one of the most cripplingly lonely feelings you can experience. I was simply intending to hold you."

His words left you staring at him blankly, struggling to process his words. "Honestly I just thought you were gonna skulk around in the corner while I lived my life because that would be like zero effort for you, and it would still make me feel 'less alone'," you tried to joke, biting your tongue when you saw that he'd only responded by furrowing his brows at you.

"You are far too beautiful to be this guarded," he murmured, leaning closer to you that you could feel his warm breath at the bridge of your nose. "You deserve to have someone to hold you. You shouldn't have had to feel this lonely to begin with." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I apologize. It seems that I was all that the fates could give you."

The gesture took you off guard, the tears that you'd been fighting back since you got home from work finally escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. You wrapped your fingers around his hand, squeezing lightly in a silent gesture that you were letting him lead you back to your bedroom. You couldn't form the words anymore.

When he had you settled in your bed once again, only this time gently cradled in his arms, a large hand stroking up and down your back as he began to lull you to sleep. "Sleep, beautiful little mortal. You need not be alone any longer," he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Not if I can help it."

"I really don't understand why you would be upset over this, Y/N. You should be thankful for the sentiment behind it, not the timing. What's important is that we remembered eventually, isn't it?"

You rolled your eyes at your mother's condescending tone over the phone. You'd spent the entire drive back to your apartment from work listening to her justify herself for at least remembering to greet you happy birthday.

Only thing was that it had been an entire six months later. And now she was trying to guilt you into warmly accepting her half-hearted greeting of 'oh I completely forgot, Happy Birthday, sweetie', as if it held any merit now. "Honestly Audrey, how can you even forget your own daughter's birthday for six months? I mean if I were in your shoes I'd remember the anniversary of the days that an entire baby threatened to rip my vagina in half."

"Language, young lady! And how dare you call me by my own name, I am your mother! And you know that we were caught up in celebrating your sister's accomplishment with her school play. Becoming an understudy is a big deal you know."

"I haven't been a young lady for ages, and you haven't been my mother for just as long," you snapped back at her. "And even she was able to text me six fucking months ago apologizing on your behalf and greeting me herself. And how the fuck should I know how big of a deal it is to become an understudy I was too busy becoming the lead when I was still going to school. Last I checked you weren't even in the audience when that happened."

"You really should stop this nasty habit of making everything about you, dear."

You let out a frustrated scream in the hall, the sound prompting your apartment door to open, the sight of Loki stepping out the door clad in his version of "casual clothing" calming you significantly. 'What's wrong?' he mouthed at you, nodding in clear understanding when your only response to him was 'Mother'.

"Do you even fucking hear yourself?? You call me with a half-assed apology for forgetting your daughter's birthday sixmonths ago, and you expect me to just accept it with open arms going 'Of course Mommy I'm so happy you remembered it's the thought that counts'? And now that I'm calling you out on your A+ parenting at least where Stella's concerned since you just love coddling her and celebrating everything with her down to her fucking participation certificates, you're gonna have the balls to tell me that I should stop making this about me??"

The feel of Loki's hands on your shoulders, thumbs resting snugly between your shoulder blades, pressing and rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to mediate your temper, had you taking a deep breath before you went on.

"Audrey I don't want to hear from you ever again. Facts are…you haven't checked in on me since before I moved out of the house. You've pretty much mailed me everything that I left behind there so that you could tear down the wall and give Stella a fucking princess suite, so there isn't even a single trace of me in any square inch of that place she can freely call home.

"You haven't been a mother to me since Stella was born, let alone a mom, so you know what? We might as well cut ties now before I start saying shit that's really gonna hurt your precious fragile ego. Goodbye. Don't ever contact me again. I'm blocking your number, and if you even dare fucking show up on my doorstep I'll call the fucking cops on you. Have the life you deserve."

You felt the phone get taken out of your hand before he turned you around to pull you into a warm embrace. "Are you alright?"

"That felt really fucking good," you mumbled into his chest, starting to let out a hearty laugh as you wrapped your arms around him to return the hug. You lifted your head to look up at him, a smile stretching across your face as your eyes met his. "Hi."

"Hello, precious girl." A small traitorous giggle escaped you as he pressed a kiss between your brows. "Welcome home."

Your heart was doing somersaults at his words, your mind struggling to process them as he easily lifted you off  your feet and walked you both into your apartment. Home. The word rolled so effortlessly off his tongue it placed the cruelest image in your head.

One where maybe Loki could stay in your life forever. One where maybe in the last six months of him providing you companionship, you weren't alone in your stupidity in falling in love with the sex demon.

That maybe said demon fell in love with you, too. And the blissful domestic atmosphere that surrounded you whenever you walked into your apartment wasn't just an illusion.

"I have a question," you spoke into the dark quiet of your bedroom when he held you that night, lulling you to sleep. You looked up from your head's position resting snugly on his shoulder, your breath audibly hitching as you saw how menacingly beautiful he looked when his features were illuminated by the moonlight and nothing else.

"Ask away, darling." You could feel your eyes growing heavy as he proceeded to stroke your hair, earning you a low chuckle from him.

"You don't sleep…"

"That is true, I don't."

"So what do you do while I'm asleep?" You brought out another chuckle from him as you fought back a yawn after asking your question.

"Count the hours until the sun rises and your infernal alarm begins to blare in our ears and pulls you out of your peaceful slumber. In those hours, I read something from your shelves occasionally. But mostly I would watch over you, wonder what it is you're dreaming about that brings out such raw reactions upon your face."

"Fuck you must be bored out your mind, I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling yourself sink deeper and deeper into sleep.

Your brows furrowed together at the feel of his  fingers lightly grasping your chin. "Look at me, Sweetheart." Your eyes met his through your heavy-lidded gaze, a lazy smile tugging at the sides of your mouth as you looked into his darkened gaze. "That couldn't be farther from the truth. You could never bore me."

A violent fluttering erupted in your stomach as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a mix between a sigh and a satisfied hum escaping him as he kissed you.

"Never," he insisted before pressing one final kiss to your lips. "Now go to sleep, darling."

"Mmph…thank you, Loki."

"What ever for?"

"For making me feel less alone."

Those last words you uttered before sleep finally took you echoed in Loki's ears like ominous drums that signaled a death march. Each time the words came back, the sound would grow louder, beginning to thump against his chest as if his heart was rushing to give out.

He'd forgotten that it could even do that.

For so long it had taken on this slow, almost snaillike pace that he could have sworn it stopped beating eons ago. It was only that first night, as he held you in his arms, that he could begin to feel the echoes of a pulse once more.

Now those echoes were more than prominent, each thump inside of him signaling that now that you said those words, his time with you was about to come to a screeching halt.

He dreaded how it would  happen. Would he simply be summoned to another's bed, simply to resume the process of meaningless trysts with sleeping women that craved nothing more than to be fucked into a stupor that more often than not led to permanent and unfavorable side effects on their part?

Would he be called back to Lilith's domain? To face an admonishment for taking so long on this particular assignment when he could have ended your plight so much more quickly and efficiently?

Would he even be able to say goodbye to you? Could he even bear it to see the look on your face if he did?

"Take it back," he pleaded softly at your sleeping form, desperation lacing every word. "Please. I don't want to leave you, Y/N. Take it back." He held you tighter against him, pressing kiss after kiss to your skin as he kept on begging you take the words back. "I can't bear to leave you, sweet girl. I love you too much for that."

A/N: Okay so I took quite a few liberties with the request but I hope you like it, Anon! There's going to be a part 2 to this because I want to give them a happy (and smutty) ending.

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @i-stand-with-loki @nixymarvelkins @cheekyscamp @lokisgoodgirl @purplegrrl27 @thedistractedagglomeration

[deadmandead10845]

This is Brandon. Brandon is a 2L (second year) student at a top tier law school. He is a very hard worker putting himself through law school alone. He survives off a diet of ramen and similar cheap foods and hardly gets enough of it. He weighs just 150lbs. He just scored an offer from a big law firm which means he gets to spend his summer between 2L and 3L as a summer associate at lawyer salary. He can’t wait to have enough money to survive.

After spending a summer with money, Brandon learned how much he loved fine cuisines and eating out. He was at cocktail parties and drinking and eating a lot too. He was shocked to see on the scale that he gained 60lbs from May to September. Ultimately he felt defeated as he had no time to work out and lose weight as a 3L law student. He grew a patchy beard to try to cover his double chin, but everyone knew that he got porky.

Throughout his last year as a student, he kept up the eating and burned through the money he saved during the summer. After graduating, he started work at the firm but couldn’t wait to get his first paycheck. He was in no position to buy a new suit and it stopped fitting him. He knew that there was no chance the coat would button. Brandon wasn’t shocked this time when he stepped on the scale and saw 270lbs. He knew he’d been eating and he had no time to burn it off. He thought now that he was graduated he would have the time. He was so wrong.

Brandon was working 70-80 hour weeks coming home exhausted and often ordered takeout to the firm’s office. Within just a few months he had crossed 300lbs. He had never had access to so much money or food especially with the last 3 years being borderline starving on 79 cent ramen cups from the campus vending machines. It was impossible to resist grabbing a bite when he could.

Before he knew it, Brandon had already outgrown all of his new suits. All of the other associates had put on a few pounds too and Brandon kept telling himself it was the same thing. The difference was the associates were maybe 20lbs heavier and had dad bods, and he was nearly 80lbs heavier coming close to 360lbs. He had never been heavier in his life and had never dreamed of being half the size he was. He was out of control. Not even 2 years ago, he was just under 200lbs.

It felt like everyday that Brandon would rip something, pop a button, or knock something over with his immense size and girth. He was getting really self conscious of his weight until one of the paralegals took a liking to him. At this point, Brandon was 32, single, unhappy with his body, well over 400lbs, and spending most of his life in the office. Brandon thought the paralegal was joking when he called him handsome. After whittling away at Brandon, he finally asked him out and they became boyfriends. His name was James.

Brandon knew something was up with him because whenever they were intimate, James would play with his belly and comment on his size. He would even dress up in Brandon’s massive suits and pants. It wasn’t until Brandon’s 33rd birthday when James brought a family sized cake to his apartment. Brandon thought maybe this was a surprise party and his friends were hiding in the other room, but James brought it with the intention to feed it all to him. Every time Brandon would eat a slice, James would spend a few seconds sucking him 0ff, but when he got somewhat close, would stop and wait until Brandon ate another slice. After two tiring hours, Brandon had finished the entire cake and finished HARD into James. Brandon spent the entire week thinking about how hot that interaction was and asked James to do it again.

Within weeks, this became the normal and Brandon and James had introduced food into their nightly routine and consequently Brandon began to pile on the pounds. This headshot of him at 450lbs was probably the last time he was able to close a suit around his girth. Now that James was appreciating him for his size, he didn’t hate how he looked anymore and embraced that he was the big guy in the firm. The other associates couldn’t recognize him from when he started working there.

Brandon and James have been dating for a few years now, and Brandon’s belly really showed for it. He was just over 520lbs and he loved it. He had to get a second seat on the plane when he traveled for work, learned the tricks to how to get a meal expensed and would get massive amounts of food expensed so he could outgrow his next suit. He looked forward to outgrowing clothes thanks to James.

At 38, Brandon made partner. He was at his heaviest as always but he was really struggling to stay mobile. Brandon was tipping scales at 660lbs and still happy with James. They were now engaged to be married and planning a wedding.

[dewitty1]

Fic Recs Wrap Up April 2024♡(੭ˊ͈ ꒵ˋ͈)੭*･:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

Mirror Mirror by epiphany_dex

Harry’s new year starts with a bang when he encounters Draco Malfoy at the Ministry Ball. Rec Post

(Never) Let Me Go by maraudersaffair @maraudersaffair

Harry and Ginny are married, but she abandoned him for her Quidditch career overseas. He is lonely and desperate for love and very interested in sleeping with a man. Then, one night at a party, Draco Malfoy whispers in his ear: Do you want to leave with me? Harry knows he should say no, especially since a scandal would ruin his chance at becoming Head Auror, but Malfoy is entirely too fit to pass up the opportunity. Rec Post

Another Mind Game by May_May_0_0

Harry’s occlumency reveals his disturbing home life which sets off a chain reaction that cannot be undone. Snape finds himself begrudgingly caring about the bespectacled boy, Harry discovers what it’s like to have adults who care, and Hermione finds herself becoming an accidental crime lord. Draco Malfoy is very much along for the ride, in all senses of the word. Rec Post

Dragons Don’t Know Paradise by teacup_tai @teacup-tai

In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon. Rec Post

Stalking Harry by orphan_account

Harry Potter is the most eligible bachelor in the Wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is a disgraced ex-Death Eater with emotional baggage and a bit of a crush. Rec Post

Through His Eyes (I Am Set Free) by Shewhxmustnxtbenamed @shewhomustnotbenamed

Harry and Draco have a telepathic connection that remains unexplained in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Draco is assigned a mission by Voldemort to locate and capture the Boy Who Lived– the trouble is that they don’t know anything about him. While Draco struggles to gather information on this mysteriously absent hero, he and Harry start communicating again for the first time since they were kids. Harry continues life as normal until he discovers information which compels him to abandon his ordinary Muggle life with the endeavor to rescue and emancipate his only friend– even if that means bartering with his own life. Rec Post

A Private Reason for This by Femme (femmequixotic) @femmequixotic

When the wife of a star politician in the Scottish Ministry turns up dead just outside Hogsmeade, Draco Malfoy and his murder investigation team are called in from the Edinburgh Auror force to find her killer. What DCI Malfoy doesn’t expect, however, is to have an ex from two decades past end up in his murder room, endangering not only his case, but also his heart. Rec Post

Consequences of Redemption by ominousflags @ominousflags

When Draco makes an impromptu decision to rescue Harry Potter from Malfoy Manor, the two find themselves completely alone and facing the looming climax of the war against Voldemort. Harry must start from the beginning with Draco–and starting over has more consequences than either of them anticipated. Rec Post

Double Trouble by multiverse_of_fanfic

Four years after the War, Draco is stuck in a dead-end job, paper-pushing his life away. Until one day, after a security breach in the Ministry, he receives an offer he can’t refuse. Thrown back into a world he thought he’d left behind, Draco must wrestle with his Death Eater past as well as his inconvenient — and forbidden — feelings for an annoyingly level-headed Harry Potter.

Will he manage to come out unscathed like he has most of his life, or will it all come crashing down? Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well!(ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ━☆ﾟ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･.*･｡ﾟ*:・ﾟ✧

Weapons of Massive Consumption by SanderVanSunshine @sandervansunshine

Eight years after the war, Harry Potter lives a life of hedonism: raging parties, huge impulse purchases, and seemingly no worries. But it's Draco Malfoy—former Death Eater, lover of blueberry muffins, and bane of coffee shop workers—who starts to wonder if it's all a front, if something's actually terribly wrong with him. Why else would Potter ask Draco, of all fucking people, to write his biography?

What We Left Behind by peachydreamxx @peachydreamxx

Harry's recovering from an injury. Malfoy's recovering from heartbreak. Beaten down and bruised, Harry takes up Malfoy's offer to stay at his secluded seaside cottage in Dorset. It'll be good to get away from it all. It's only for a few days, and it's only so he can heal. Nothing else. Digging up past feelings will only make matters worse, and besides, Malfoy doesn't feel the same way. Does he?

Take You Home by lq_traintracks (lumosed_quill) @lqtraintracks

Everybody’s a little fucked up after the war, Draco especially. What starts as hate sex after a night out, eventually turns into something else, something more like comfort. And even though his friends all tell Harry he’s just being used, all Harry’s doing is making sure Draco gets home in one piece. He’s not falling helplessly in love.

Vipera Berus by Justlikewriting

Everything was fine. Draco resided at the Manor, made a decent living selling potions and most of his customers actually kept coming back despite his last name. Hence, Draco was fine. He really was. So what, if he was still waiting.

Title & Possession by Kbrick @kbrick

Harry Potter’s life is going well in the aftermath of the war. Sure, his house is dark and run-down and might hate him (while his house elf definitely hates him). But other than that, things are good. Except, yeah, okay, Hermione and Ron are no longer on speaking terms. Worse, they keep trying to get Harry to pick sides. But otherwise, Harry couldn’t be happier. Well. Except for the fact that Ginny is being super weird about their relationship and never wants to have sex or talk about the future. But other than that, Harry is perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch. At least, he is until Draco Malfoy sues him for ownership of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Then Harry really isn’t fine at all.

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡ I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I have! Happy reading, y’all! xoxo Carey  (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

[shippingmyworld]

Hi there!

I read that one and really liked your headcanon about Danny and his relationships with his exs and wondered if you had any for JimmyTimmy? I know you're more a tigerghost blog so it's okay if you don't!

It's so funny that I have that reputation since I've only been active in the fandom for like a few months.

But actually I do have a few! I was playing with the idea of expanding this into an actual fic at some point, but if you're curious I included the main points below the cut.

I like to hc that Jimmy's never actually been in a relationship or even kissed anyone before. I know his implied love interest in canon is Cindy (I don't recall if they actually get together in canon or if there was anyone else he showed interest in), but I always saw them more as rivals that end up begrudgingly becoming friends over the years. I also believe that Jimmy would know he's demi-sexual and homo-romantic from a very early age. It just never comes up in conversation because he simply shuts down any conversation about romance by saying he doesn't find the person his friends are talking about attractive (Cindy starts a betting pool with the others because she's picked up on the fact that Jimmy is basically gay but everyone else thinks he's ace).

While Jimmy's love life is rather drama-free for most of his adolescence and early teen years, Timmy on the other hand experiences the equivalent of seven different disney channel tween rom-com movies. He's caught up in the fantasy he's created of Trixie, and his affection will bounce between her and Cindy depending on which girl has shown more attention in the last few days. He'll often annoy Jimmy with his elaborate plans on how he intends to ask one of them out. Occasionally he'll also spend an entire afternoon on an inter-dimensional video call about how annoying Tootie has been lately and what her latest scheme had been to win Timmy's affection.

Jimmy meanwhile has realized he has feeling for Timmy, but locks them away because he believes Timmy is straight. He's honestly just content that Timmy reaches out to him as often as he does and that they're able to still spend time together. He also never points out that what Tootie is doing to Timmy is the exact same thing that Timmy is doing to Trixie and Cindy.

Right before they enter high school, Timmy will read the signals wrong and ask Cindy to go steady with him, but Cindy will politely turn him down and say she'd rather they just be friends. Completely crushed, he'll double down in his attempt to woo Trixie and pull out all the stops, putting on this extremely cringey and embarrassing performance to ask her to be his girlfriend (he got the idea from Cosmo). She'll just straight up laughs in his face and will stomp on his heart, leaving him to be the laughing stock of the school. When Tootie comes and tries to comfort him, Timmy will snap and yell at her, saying all sorts of hurtful things to her face and making her cry.

High school starts, and Timmy finds himself a complete social outcast. No one want to be associated with him after the stunt he pulled to ask out Trixie (even Chester and AJ don't want to spend time with him). Timmy then starts spending more time in Jimmy's universe, annoying Jimmy by randomly showing up inside his lab. Jimmy's annoyed at first, but realizes that Timmy's just lonely and lets him stick around. Timmy eventually makes himself at home (he sets up base in a small corner of the lab that is basically his area that Jimmy doesn't interfere with), and will say something to Jimmy along the lines of "I'm really glad you're apart of my life." Which just kills Jimmy a little bit because he knows that Timmy means it platonically.

After a few months of teen melodrama and some advice from Jimmy, Timmy will approach Tootie with the intent of apologizing to her. He finds her is eating alone in the lunch room at school and just spits out the apology point blank. It will take some time, but the two will reconcile and become friendly with each other, but Tootie will still harbor feelings for Timmy.

Meanwhile, for plot reasons, Remy will transfer to Timmy's school. Timmy expects that Remy is going to make his life hell, but a few weeks pass and Remy seems to actually be avoiding Timmy. It's messing with Timmy's head. He can't have his guard up the entire time at school, Remy was always more of a threat than Mr. Crocker ever was. So during one of the school's pep rally's, Timmy will pull Remy under the bleachers and confront him. Remy promises that he's done with trying to expose Cosmo and Wanda, and Timmy wants to know how he can trust Remy's words. Remy will then kiss him, confusing the hell out of Timmy. He says he has feeling for Timmy, and would never do anything that would hurt Timmy and ruin his chances. Timmy is hung up on the fact that they're both guys and Remy just kissed him??? So he says nothing and just walks away.

The next day he'll be sitting with Chester & AJ in class and tells them about it (they never apologized for ditching Timmy at the start of high school but he doesn't really have any other friends and they're forced to talk with him since they all sit next to each other). AJ asks if Timmy knows what homosexuality and bisexuality is, and Timmy has honestly never heard of those terms before. After all, his parents never let him watch TV or give him money to go out, and still force him to have a babysitter at his age. When AJ explains it all (he has graphs and examples of non-heterosexual relationships observed in other mammals) something just clicks for Timmy. When school is done with, he runs home (ignoring Remy and Tootie who are both planning to confess their feeling again) and poofs over to Jimmy's lab.

Jimmy's surprised to see him. But he's even more surprised when Timmy just grabs him by both shoulders and pulls him in for a kiss without another word. Jimmy's brain literally crashes (he wonders if he's having a stroke or some sort of stress-dream), and when Timmy pulls aways he's a blushing mess. Timmy will apologize and start rambling on about how he just found out that this was a possibility and that it makes sense. He always feels comfortable around Jimmy and once he realized two guys could be together, kissing Jimmy was the first thing that popped into his head. Timmy keeps talking for several minutes as Jimmy attempts to process everything, but Timmy will end up taking Jimmy's silence as a bad sign and try to leave. Jimmy's forced to grab Timmy's hand to make him stay and they then just sit in silence for several hours as Jimmy rearranges his thoughts (Timmy will eventually fall asleep on him as they just sit on the floor of the lab).

After that they start dating. Tootie and Remy have no idea until Jimmy shows up one day to pick up Timmy from school for a hang-out/date. Timmy is casually chatting with Tootie and Remy (as both of them continue to interrupt each others attempts to ask Timmy on a date), when Timmy suddenly breaks away from them and charges at a boy they'd never seen before (Jimmy) who just showed up at the school gate. Timmy tackle's Jimmy at top speed, nearly barreling him over as they hug and plants a big kiss on Jimmy's cheek. He waves goodbye to Tootie and Remy, who are just watching slack-jawed as Timmy walks away hand-in-hand with Jimmy. Tootie and Remy then form an alliance to take down Jimmy so they can go back to fighting for Timmy's affection.

[hitlikehammers]

you definitely need a 💐LADY WHISTLEDOWN REVEAL💐 for Steddie to follow up on the ✨Morning After✨ the Carriage, don't you???

Regency/Bridgerton AU

once last time: for @hbyrde36, @pearynice, and @penny00dreadful 💜

For perhaps the first time in his life, Eddie is at a loss for his words.

Possibly, it is because there are no words. None that he knows, at the least, and he knows a great deal of them—too many for his own good, according to some.

Though—possibly—it is because his heart is pounding so violently, somehow in his chest and in his throat all at once, that the breath for words at all is lost on him, and if it weren’t, the words would end up pummeled somewhere on the way out his mouth anyway.

Double-edged sword, really.

It is in true Edward Munson form, the way it comes out in the end, the way he confesses without truly confessing. It’s been a growing pit in this stomach, despite the glorious splendor of the past weeks leading up to their nuptials—nuptials!—and the Queen’s renewed obsession weighs, true, though she’s off the scent for now. But when Eddie’s father drove his family to ruin, and his uncle gave up freedom in the Highlands to enter back into society, to house his mother and his own half-fear-made-feral self before the age of seven, to make the Munson name respectable again, not least for spending most of his worth on the property across from the storied Harringtons—but then there was the one specific boy of the family, about Eddie’s own age, who had to come to the Munson’s every day for a month, almost certainly against the wishes of anyone who stood to reign him back and failed, an entire month before Eddie would so much as kick the dirt between them, let alone dare for eye contact.

Which is to say: Eddie started the strongest and dearest relationship of his life with cowardice, without even knowing yet that Steve Harrington wasn’t built to back down from a challenge for the life of him, despite the scars he bore for his stubborn virtue.

It wouldn’t really be true to Eddie’s own well-worn character, now, if he were brave about any of this.

Which is how he ends up slinking to Steve, who is sprawled comfortably on the settee with a book, before dropping a thick, twine-bound collection of pamphlets, years of publications that fall on Steve’s chest dramatically, though Eddie can’t even claim to have planned it so: he’s simply shaking too much to have handed over the evidence poised to damn him with anything like composure.

He trembles even as he stands taut, spine too stiff and shoulders too sharp, hands clasped behind him as Steve sits up, eyes the bundle curiously, unties it carefully and…reads Eddie’s last rites in his own pen because the dawning of clarity isn’t slow: what the papers are is crystalline.

That these are original drafts, in Eddie’s pen, is even more undeniable upon finishing just the first column: Eddie’s writing pen was a gift from Steve early in their years, and he’s never parted with it—too attached, too sentimental—not least when it started to show its age, blotted messy at the ends of lines, especially on a damning ‘s’ at the stop of a sentence.

So many sentences; to spell out his own.

Steve is quiet, as he thumbs through a few more issues: but it’s clear the perusal’s unnecessary. Likely meant just to buy time. Eddie feels an ache in his chest that he can’t place a name to; feels a burning on the ring finger of his left hand that he holds too tight: fearful. Afraid the minutes are numbered, now, before he loses the promise there forever.

But he could not have beared to trap Steve into marriage under the pretense of a lie. He may have already done damage irreparable but, but—

Whatever he can still salvage, for Steve if not himself: he has to try.

“So.”

Eddie’s attention snaps back into the moment as soon as he hears Steve’s voice; startles at the weight of the pamphlets falling atop the table to hand at his side.

Eddie feels Steve’s eyes upon him but…hells beyond if he can lift his own to meet them.

He’s a boy kicking at dirt all over again.

“So,” Eddie breathes; barely. His sentence, his sentence, and all the loss undoubtedly to follow with, and—

He’s too far in his own mind, in his own pulse too heavy to have noticed the approach of anything, even his beloved, until his beloved’s hands are framing his face, those sunrise eyes steady on him. Warm.

Still love there, in them. For him.

“Thank you,” Steve lets his thumbs roam Eddie’s cheekbones; stretch to the line of his jaw where it starts: “for finally trusting me.”

Eddie’s comprehension of time grinds to a halt; he thinks his pulse takes the brunt for how it stalls-still from its racing.

It takes him at least three tries to make a noise from his throat, and even then it’s mostly just a sound, rather than any words to comprehend:

“I,” he manages more as a squeak that he follows with a cough, which does little to clear his voice but a great deal to jostle his heart back to pounding as he flounders:

“I’m sorry?”

And Steve’s brows furrow, but only for an instant; an instant is all it takes to read Eddie top to toe and then soften, to use his hands to pull Eddie close for a chaste kiss that still holds so much:

“Oh, angel,” Steve breathes between their lips as Eddie feels the tremors still tight-wound through his person threaten to break him, to widen the cracks he is composed of wholly, now, and shatter him to bits, but then there is Steve, and Steve is holding to him, and then he’s…he’s speaking incomprehensible words that take too long to even begin making sense:

“You could not have imagined that I didn’t know?”

Eddie’s silence is the only necessary answer, and then Steve’s eyes are widening in shock alongside something close to horror.

“Oh, oh, come here,” the realization in the words is so tender, and honest, and Steve flutters his hands a little in his haste to lead Eddie to sit, to press against Steve’s body so he can melt into Steve's solid hold. And Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s temple, almost aggrieved and unbearably gentle, but the note of incredulity is undeniable as he asks soft, a low rumble through his chest, close under Eddie’s ear:

“Were you so anxious, my darling?”

Eddie doesn’t know what sound he makes, if he makes any at all—he did not anticipate this, he did not anticipate anything like this at all and so he likewise has no idea how it means to progress from here; his pulse feels all the more precarious as it hangs in a balance he cannot predict—but whatever comes from him, sound or some other indication only Steve can see and sense, he is being wrapped tighter, closer, cradled into the soft shirt, mostly unbuttoned to soft tufts of hair across Steve’s broad chest.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes against the top of Eddie’s head, laces their fingers together to kiss before dragging them to better secure Eddie against him, holding their twined hands to his ocean-deep pulse:

“We are family,” Steve murmurs with a certainty that shakes in Eddie’s bones—irrefutable. “Always have been, really,” he adds, a little rueful; “and soon by law and name, but your passions are my passions,” and he squeezes Eddie’s hand once in perfect time for both their unmatched heartbeats, finds the hidden moment where Eddie’s still-sprinting blood matches Steve’s steady drumbeat and somehow the surety, the intimate certitude in that peerless moment holds like a palm soft to Eddie’s frantic heart itself that cradles him, inside and out; talks him down from fears of unknown reprisals.

“Your struggles are my struggles, to remedy immediately,” Steve kisses at Eddie’s curls like a promise, more a vow; “your triumphs are mine to hold close and celebrate in full with you, for you.”

Eddie feels his cheeks heat, but only as a precursor to the warmth the floods the whole of him as Steve adds, even more like true vows against Eddie’s own soul:

“Nothing you could ever do or be would make you less the whole of my heart,” Steve cradles him dear, caresses along his jaw; “certainly never something like this.”

Eddie’s heart throbs heady, surges and expands and he has to focus on breathing a bit more, for a few long seconds, because to be told that, to be touched like this, to be loved this way—

“How,” Eddie has to clear his throat to be heard and still his voice lands thready:

“How did you find out?”

And Eddie isn’t truly ever surprised by how he loves Steve in turn, he doesn’t remember what it feels like to breathe as less, but: Eddie will never not love, in an especially giddy way, how Steve lights up in something a little wily, here, a little mischievous, and now how it’s spiraled along with a glistening adoration that tingles through Eddie with every tap of his pulse.

“First,” Steve cranes his neck to grin lopsided Eddie’s way; “Whistledown was always among the cleverest minds in the ton,” and Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand in his as he peppers kisses along the crown of Eddie’s head, wholly unprompted, just because he can before he concludes with a sweet little shrug:

“There are perhaps only three people in the requisite radius who fit the terms, and two are my own sisters.”

Eddie cannot—does not want to—contest that point. It isn’t wrong, but more than even that: he’s honored to be counted alongside Lady Nancy and Miss Robin, equally formidable in unique—and therefore frighteningly complementary—ways.

But he does fear his fortunes to come, should they not be as forgiving as it seems their brother is—against all odds, though Eddie should never have doubted his beloved just because his own conscience ached; Steve is stalwart and steadfast, and Eddie’s heart has never rested safer.

He will come to know that in the very veins of him, with time. He’s certain.

They both will; Eddie knows it.

“Second,” Steve’s adding on, stroking their still-clasped hands up and down his own chest; “the way it’s written,” and then he’s lifting those hands to kiss again, his smile a tangible thing to feel, and a swift beam of relief to loosen lingering tensions in Eddie’s muscles:

“I may have been blind to precisely how you’ve lived within my heart up until these past weeks,” Steve returns their hands to his chest again and presses in emphasis on the beating he speaks of, the home Eddie feels safest in, now he knows he’s welcome wholly; “utterly spectacular weeks, weeks I could never have imagined,” Steve hums, then grows a touch more serious as he murmurs:

“But you’ve lived in my heart near all my life, Eds,” Steve says simply, then smiles to answer back to the question asked of him:

“The flourish in your theatrics is telling, beloved,” Steve speaks it like an open secret, and something he rejoices in. “Perhaps not to the masses, only because you did not advertise them to their fullest extent for as many years as I’ve been…” he worries his lip endearingly through a losing fight against a grin:

“Privileged enough to experience them in their entirety. To experience you,” and Steve leans to snag a kiss quick before smiling full: “in your entirety.”

Eddie bumps his shoulder against Steve’s in indignation, earning first a yelp and then a hearty chuckle as he protests with very little fire in it, too much soft-sweet joy rising in him now for the ever-more-pressing proof that he is accepted, that his work, his creative purists change little, maybe nothing between them, save that Steve said…

Steve said he would celebrate him. As if Eddie were someone to be proud of.

“You’ve chided and shrugged me off for it, for all my wild theatrics—“ Eddie cuts off the spike of emotion threatening to well in his eyes with wholly put-upon affront as Steve ducks his chin to kiss sloppy, playful, just short of Eddie’s cheek, a little farther back as he defends:

“Lovingly, darling,” and there is humor, ready and easy between them but there is truth, more solid, the bedrock of any other thing:

“No matter the kind of love,” Steve nuzzles him fondly, no—no, it’s so much more than fond:

“Always lovingly.”

And what is Eddie to do in the face of that, save but to sigh against Steve’s chest where he’s held, still; to nuzzle there a little in kind and if the steady lulling of the motion matches Steve’s heartbeat within moments, well: who is Eddie to protest the song that his whole world moves in time with?

“But third, my dearest,” and here Steve’s voice deepens, then lightens to a whisper as he breathes against Eddie’s curls:

“Robin knew.”

Eddie stills. And then he shoots up and braces himself over Steve with eyes wide enough to water as he gasps:

“No,” he barely mouths because, because yes Robin knew, or Eddie suspected—her interest in his dealings with the printer was too sharp, too pinpointed before it died off entirely. Which could have meant she found better distraction, but: she hadn’t.

Which meant: she’d almost certainly fulfilled the curiosity she’d already chased.

But no one had spoken, not a single person had come even in confidence to accuse—

“Oh yes,” Steve sighs gravely but there’s a smirk in it; he teases; “I was the only one she told, I do know that, but.” And Steve shrugs, shakes his head before he lets out a harsh whoosh of air as Eddie falls back upon his chest—at least now they can match, the wind knocked out of them both.

“Of course the possibility alone was always a gamble,” Eddie eventually concedes, draped over Steve once more—a little defeated, though he can’t quite put a finger on why. “I simply…presumed you’d have spoken if she’d,” he gestures aimlessly; “shared her knowledge.”

He doesn’t expect the response to come in the form of a sharp cackle, of Steve easing them both to sitting, but somehow still tangled up and pressed together tight.

“I’m not so proud as not to own fully that I am a terrible gossip,” Steve says without a shred of shame for it, and it is true, Eddie may well have learned his own lack of shame in the enterprise from the man held against him in the first place.

“It brings too much joy, why would I spoil the fun? For anyone, least of all for you,” he asks honestly, which is maybe shortsighted; Eddie knows he’s caused strife with his pen, but he’s never told falsehoods, and he’s never sought to ruin anyone who didn’t cause ruin thrice-fold first.

“I’d have helped you write it in an instant, if you’d wished,” Steve says, almost wistful, the last thing Eddie expected when he entered the room, his shaking hands full of damning evidence; “though of course you never needed my help.”

“I’d have wanted it,” Eddie is immediate to affirm despite his surprise, because his adamance is stronger; because any moments spent with Steve, now or then, before or since becoming what they are, have never been less than a privilege and a delight; “a couple’s activity, far more appealing than the promenade,” Eddie huffs a laugh, still a touch incredulous for how this all is playing out before him, still a little bewildered that his anxious, whirring thoughts and heavy heart were for nothing at all.

He trusts Steve unreservedly, but, surely, surely there is something…

“If I were to continue,” Eddie nudges, hedges with perhaps quite foolish daring; “you would not mind?”

But it isn’t even a surprise when Steve simply leans against Eddie and draws him sideways toward his chest, breathes gentle into Eddie’s hair and kisses his head as he reaches to play with his fingers, to spin his engagement ring.

“Darling, even if I thought it dull as bricks,” and Steve speaks it with such, such warmth; “it brings you joy. And that is my joy.”

And Eddie’s heart soars for the…for the knowledge that this is his life. That this will be his life: forevermore.

He leans to kiss Steve whole and full, and he’s met as passionately, as ravenously, until they soften to gentle pecks, back and further.

“Together then, I think,” Eddie declares, their lips still close so the words drag between their mouths, breathy with devotion; a new flavor of commitment as Steve’s eyes rake over him, widen first to then shine blinding:

“Truly?”

“Every soul deserves its desired secrets,” Eddie reaches to trace Steve’s jawline; to marvel because he doesn’t think he’ll ever see fit to stop; “but there is no part of me that I desire to keep secret from you.”

Steve smiles at him a little longer, before he reaches around Eddie and grabs below the stack of issues—Eddie’d balanced it all on his folio, with the blank sheets and his beloved pen.

“May I?” Steve lifts the case less than halfway sheepish, more than halfway impish; “I think you need a bit of a sendoff.”

Eddie blinks, largely adrift save for Steve’s heat so near to him: anchoring.

“Where am I going?” he asks, bewildered even as Steve's smile grows wider still.

“Wedded bliss in perpetuity is the hope,” Steve presses his lips firm and fast to the left corner of Eddie’s mouth; “but in practical terms?” and then he kisses just the same at the corner on the right before he stands to make toward his desk:

“Quite soon, our honeymoon.”

And oh: but they haven’t spoken overmuch about such a thing but, but…

They’ll be married, and then they’ll be free to…be. Together and in love and wherever and however they wish, as long as they wish it—they get to be husbands and revel in it, wanton and cow-eyed and blissfully besotted.

Eddie must spend long seconds daydreaming—wholly justified, he would note most heartily—because he comes back to himself in the moment, next to Steve where he’s seated again, tapping Eddie’s thigh with the stiff parchment he’s covered in his endearing looping script waiting for Eddie’s attention, which, of course he gives in an instant and oh:

Most Dear and Gentle Reader,

All good things come to their ends, or else their pauses, their crossways and forks in the road. And whichever this communiqué ultimately lands upon happily, my farewell to you now comes on the wings of pure delight: to announce the end of the season with love, with the culmination of a tumultuous journey where not every player walked at the same pace, but one that was nonetheless undertaken together, unreservedly, and met hand-in-hand at the turn of its tale to new chapters. New journeys to seek and embark upon with joy.

I admit my attentions have been distracted of late, so you must forgive what comings and goings I may have missed in the interim. Nevertheless, I think none have slipped my notice so monumental, and indeed relevant to prior missives, as the dramatic and dearly heartwarming culmination of the tale of one of our most scandalous subjects of inquiry, not least because he has not always relished the attention: here, though, he might see the end of his delightfully roguish absurdity, but may our loss be his gain, as it is most certainly his husband-to-be’s.

To wit: Sir Edward Munson has done the honor of pledging the pleasure and privilege of his unmatched mind, his unreserved compassion, his unequaled wit, his inimitable fortitude, his most miraculously peerless heart, and the indescribable joy he brings by merely breathing in proximity, to one Lord Steven Harrington: a man not wholly deserving, but forever committed to the pursuit of earning all of the above, and worshiping with gratitude his beloved, as is only right and proper when one is blessed so thoroughly.

The very sort of happy ending we rarely see played out in these pages to such heartwarming conclusion—for we may seek scandal, but we none of us can deny the unparalleled appeal when matters of true love rise to the fore. And triumph magnificently.

But do not despair in my absence, however long it proves to stretch—there is pleasure in the pathless woods, after all. Journey well, dearest gentle readers, in the whiling.

x 

Eddie swallows hard upon the final words landing, settling in his chest.

How on earth did he get here? How in god’s name can he possibly deserve…this? All this?

With this impossible gift of a man, he—

“So?” and Steve’s tone is just slightly anxious, and oh. Oh, none of that.

Eddie tosses the spectacular, unthinkably praise-filled draft to the table and grabs Steve’s chin, tilts his face up to kiss him, long and hard and deep until they’re both gasping.

“You astound me endlessly,” Eddie breathes, settling his brow to Steve’s as he nearly breaks his face, he feels, for smiling so wide, in such wonder.

“Didn’t think I had it in me?” Steve smirks a little, but nips at Eddie’s lips all the while, and it’s thrilling beyond reason.

“I think you’re capable of just about anything,” Eddie says honestly, caught up in the feeling of it soaking through his ribs.

“Sap,” Steve laughs, but it’s a nearly giddy sort of thing before his tone softens, silken almost, as he bumps the tips of his nose against the side of Eddie’s own; “I had a good teacher.”

“Who in your family reads romance?” Eddie asks, frowning to deduce. Possibly the little ones outside their mother’s notice but—

He’s interrupted in the work of it by a gentle smack to his shoulder.

“The columns, you delightful knob,” Steve rolls his eyes at him, and Eddie’s too buoyant, too effervescent with joys innumerable that he cannot help but lean, nip at Steve’s lower lip and tease back:

“You do delight almost voraciously in my kn—“

He earns himself another smack to the shoulder, and a delightful flush to Steve’s cheeks, and Eddie laughs deep in his chest, his cares of no consequence; invisible really.

“Could you possibly think I didn’t read every single issue once I knew they were yours?” Steve asks, more chiding than anything, like he takes a genuinely dim view to Eddie thinking otherwise; and now Eddie must revise his position—his cares are of no consequence, here, save one:

To worship this man, with all that he is, with every moment life sees fit to grant him, and never to cease, only to grow.

“I love you so,” Eddie mouths against Steve’s skin; “so much more than I know how to say—”

“I know it though,” Steve says with clarity, with confidence; “I know it,” and he reaches to trace Eddie’s lips as he asks, less out of doubt and more to confirm, to swell with what it means to be sure: “just as you know it?”

“I do,” Eddie whispers, and he feels it, the swelling of certainty, of loving beyond words and yet being wholly sure of their weight.

“You quoted Byron,” Eddie runs the tip of his nose along Steve’s jaw, awestruck.

“I listen when you talk,” Steve answers simply; “always have,” which pings exquisite chords in Eddie’s chest, his heart dancing steps it’s never learned, save in loving the man beside him.

“And it felt appropriate. Bookending an era, one might say,” because of course Eddie began with such words, and, he, it, this…

It is perfection. It is so far beyond the realms of what he has earned or deserved and yet—

“Have I upset you?” Steve’s voice breaks in, only a touch of hesitation; “should I apologize for so thoroughly shocking you?”

“Never,” Eddie cups his cheek and draws him in to prove it.

“I love finding out new things about you,” he adds warmly, breathless when they part, warmer still for the heaving of Steve’s chest against his own.

Steve himself takes a moment to catch back his breath before he raises a brow in askance. Eddie, less the athletic type, is still this-side of breathless but: perhaps it is better that way. More reflective of the way his chest seizes while it keeps at stretching him wider, wider, wider still to hold his ever-swelling heart.

“To know that the adventure of learning you, is not only the adventure of a lifetime, but an adventure for a lifetime,” Eddie wonders at him, confesses the core of his deepest heart with joy and pride and abandon as he holds Steve’s face dear between his hands:

“Words fail that privilege, my dearest.”

Steve leans into his touch, and runs his hands up from Eddie’s chest, pressing possessive near his bounding heart, before both slip to either side of Eddie’s neck, stretching to cross behind and drawing him in adoring, ethereal for how his eyes shine:

“A privilege in itself, spoken from so fine a wordsmith himself,” Steve murmurs, close enough that the shape of the words on his lips brush Eddie’s like their own kiss, and then, more than any kiss, he mouths deep in earnest:

“How I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“And I you,” Eddie breathes, his heart a mallet for all the most ineffable, unthinkably rapturous reasons; “another thing words fail for the depth.” Eddie shakes his head, tries to breathe into and out through the wholeness of that feeling in him as a rule, his new norm.

“I’d live inside your heart if I could,” Eddie finds himself exhaling slow, almost overcome, the words spilling on their own for wanting, for feeling this much: “I’d hold you close inside mine.”

“And here you stand, saying you have no words,” Steve whispers, leaning close, cheek to cheek as they both breathe so close their chests lie flush; they can both feel the hearts pounding beneath the other’s ribs.

“I said no such thing,” Eddie corrects brightly, but it’s so featherlight, it’s a certainty that’s nearly weightless save that it’s singlehandedly shifted his entire world:

“I said words failed the feeling,” Eddie mouths against the barest hint of Steve’s stubble; “and to that I still hold.”

And if it means exactly what it feels like: Steve holds the same.

Because the way he leans away only to dive back in to devour Eddie, relentless, passion bleeding between them so fast and full that Eddie thinks he can trace the way it bruises them both so deliciously, marks them reverent and exuberant; the way Eddie feels a sparkling coursing through his veins and sees it reflected in Steve’s eyes in the moments they’re forced to part for breath just to plunge back in again within mere moments, to drown only to better learn to breathe at all—

There are no words for this.

But the truth is undeniable that the both of them feel it.

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[the-eclectic-wonderer]

Your stunt double was murdered right in the middle of your kitchen.

Not just any stunt double, either. The one that spent 40 years, an entire lifetime, taking hits and rolling under cars and throwing herself into open fire as you. The one that's not you, but at the same time is maybe a better version of you, the you you would be if you had been just a pinch braver, just a pinch more likable; the one that's not you, but at the same time was the same character as you, and maybe she actually is you, in some ways (after all, you two are so similar that she was killed in your place, wasn't she?).

She was your stunt double, yes. But she was also the one who took your falls, who propped you up, who made sure you didn't spend your lunch break alone. You shared a role, you shared an apartment, you shared a girlfriend.

She took care of you in every way you can take care of a person.

And now she's gone.

It was possible to believe otherwise when she was just an absence on the other side of a phone (even though you knew, right from the start, that something was so, so wrong). It might even have been possible to believe it was all a colossal joke as you were cradling the iron trophies she was so proud to host in her bones. But luminol is unforgiving: you turn off the light and there it all is, her blood, her life slipping away from her right there on the tiles of your kitchen, and the message she left for you, the one thing she knew you'd understand right away, and there's no denying it anymore.

You are Charles-Haden Savage, and your stunt double was murdered in your place right in the middle of your kitchen.

Your hands still tingle with her ashes.