#I'm fucking spaced I need to sleep I'm sorry to anyone who might read this lmao

[spaceratprodigy]

the tiny metronome in my brain aggressively ticking back and forth between wanting to make cap and max fluff or cap and max angst

[justmystyles]

Now You're In My Life - Part 5

catch up here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 3.5k

summary: a chance meeting at a diner turns your world upside-down.

warnings: some curse words, but other than that it's tame.

a/n: hey gang, remember how fluffy this has been? well, we took a bit of a turn at the end here. sorry about that. i promise, i'm going to fix it though!

*i say it's a plus size reader, while i don't focus a lot on that aspect (because your size should not define you), it will come up, so i just wanted to be upfront about it.

tags (thank you forever, from the bottom of my icy cold heart to anyone who has asked to be tagged, or interacted/read this story at all. it means the absolute world to me.): @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @cute-as-ducks420 @gem1712 @golden-hoax @groovychaosavenue @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @n0vaj3an @stylesfever @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

Your eyes flutter open as you stretch the sleep out of your body. You reach the king sized bed, pulling your phone off the nightstand to check the time. Instead, you are distracted by a text notification. It’s from Harry. You rub the sleep from your eyes so that you can read the message carefully and unlock the phone. 

I know you said you were just tired, but it felt like more than that. I want to be your safe space, but understand if you are hesitant. I won’t bring it up again, just know that I’m here for you. I’ll see you in a few hours. 

He sent that text at four in the morning. You had Harry so worried about you that instead of resting for his show, he was thinking about you. You needed to find a balance, you didn’t want to get any more attached to him than you already were, but you also didn’t want to be a distraction from his tour. 

You got out of bed and started getting ready, the whole time coming up with a plan for the best way to get through the day. You decided that you had to just go back to how things were this time yesterday. It was your last day with Harry anyway, if this was going to be your last memory of him, it might as well be a good one. 

You hadn’t been told what time to get to the venue today, so you figured you were supposed to get there around the same time as yesterday. Since you had some time to kill, you relaxed on the bed in your leggings and a tank top, watching television until you had to get dressed and head out. 

You were startled by a knock on the door, you weren’t expecting anyone and you definitely had your do not disturb sign up. You approached the entrance and leaned up, looking through the peephole. It was Harry, his hands were behind his back, and he seemed nervous. 

You took a deep breath before opening the door. He looked at you with a questioning expression, and you smiled softly at him, signaling that you were better. He sighed in relief and removed his hands from behind his back, unveiling two Starbucks cups. 

“Trick or treat!” He says, his dimples on full display. 

“Aww Harry, that was really sweet but I don’t–”

“Drink coffee,” he interrupted you. “You told me. It's hot chocolate, the only hot drink you like.” He extended one of the drinks in your direction. 

Fuck, this was going to be a hard day. 

“Thanks,” you took it with a smile. 

As you turned to walk back in the room, Harry cleared his throat, you turned to see he hadn’t entered yet. “What, are you some kind of vampire or something? I’ve gotta invite you in?” 

“Nope, just waiting for my delivery fee.” He arched a brow and tapped his lips with his index finger. 

You chuckle and step up to him, placing your lips to his. “Good morning, Harry.” 

“Good morning, princess.” He smiled before pulling you in again, kissing you deeper this time. “Now, let’s see this room, shall we?”

You guide Harry inside, he lets out a low whistle as he take a look around. “Nice digs.” 

“It’s fine, I’m sure it’s not half as nice as the hotel you’re staying in.” You take a quick glance around the room in case there’s anything you might not want Harry to see.

“Oh, I’m not in a hotel. I have an apartment here.” His eyes catch it before you do, there’s a panic in your face as you rush to the bed, but he gets there first. “Who do we have here?” He pulls a stuffed fox off the bed and looks it over.

You snatch it out of his hands, your face going bright red. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Hey, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, princess.” He brushes a stray hair behind your ear. 

Your gaze drops to the floor, but he puts his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “I uh… ugh, this is going to sound so lame and needy.”

“Try me,” he encouraged. 

“When I sleep, I need to have my arms around something. I’m a hug sleeper, so I sleep with that every night.” You look back down at the floor. 

“I knew you were a snuggler,” he smiled, pulling the fox from your hands and dropping it  on the bed before pulling you in close. “I’m going to get you a body pillow with my picture on it. It seems like the only logical solution.” You laugh into his chest and he holds on tighter. “I love making you laugh.” He placed a kiss on the crown of your head. 

“So did you come by just to deliver me a hot chocolate?” You change the subject. 

“Nah, we don’t have to be at the venue until later, so I thought we could go out. Maybe grab a quick lunch, sightseeing, something like that?” 

“That sounds fun. Should I bring my costume for tonight?” You move to your closed while you talk, pulling a long sleeved tee out and over your head. 

“Sure, we can drop it off there on the way. One less thing to worry about later.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, smiling when he looks at the screen. “Goddamned paparazzi.” He laughed. 

“Is everything okay?” You ask, taking a seat at the desk to slide your shoes on. 

“Great actually. Did you know we were being filmed last night?” He holds up his phone, showing you the pictures that Jeff took in Harry’s dressing room. “How cute are we?” 

“The cutest,” you reply, feeling yourself get emotional at the pictures. That moment meant everything to you, and there was photographic evidence of it. 

Harry sends you the pictures and the two of you go on your way. He once again insists on carrying your backpack for you. After dropping it off at MSG, you head to Central Park. Harry’s hand seems glued to yours the whole time. Though you heard a few ‘is that Harry Styles?’ mumbles and some gasps as you travel the streets, people were respectful for the most part, giving you both your space. 

“Y/N?” A voice calls as you stroll through the park.

You and Harry both freeze. “How is it that I’m the celebrity, and you’re the one people are calling for in the streets?” He whispers to you as you turn around. 

Your eyes go wide, and you break into a grin when you see your good friend Andy approaching you. “It is you! You didn’t tell me you were going to be in town!” He wraps you in a bear hug and lifts you off the ground. 

“It was a last minute thing,” you respond as he places your feet back on the ground. 

“Are you here for a concert or a show?” 

“I… uh,” you know if you say concert, he’s going to ask you who, and you’re not sure how to even begin to tackle that. “Uh… a boy actually.” You shrug with a blush. 

Harry takes that as his cue. “Hello, I’m Harry.” 

The men shake hands and Andy looks at you curiously, you know what he’s asking and nod your head. You fall into a bit of small talk, and Harry excuses himself to use the bathroom, allowing you and Andy to catch up for a bit. 

“Y/N, are you dating Harry Styles?” Andy asks once Harry is out of earshot. 

“I honestly have no fucking idea,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. 

“It sure seems like you are, he’s kind of all over you.”

You blush, loving the idea that other people see Harry being affectionate with you. If other people see it, maybe it is something more. You redirect the conversation, afraid to dig too deep into your feelings for Harry, and speculations on his feelings for you. 

Before long Harry returns, stepping up behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Princess,” Andy shoots you a knowing look at Harry’s nickname, you shrug him off. “But I think we should be going.” He nods to a few people standing around who have started to pull out their phones, undoubtedly to take pictures and videos of him. 

He knew he was being filmed, but he was still openly affectionate with you. That’s not nothing. 

You said your goodbyes to Andy and went on your way, stopping for a quick slice of pizza before moving on to the Garden. They didn’t have a full sound check like they had the previous day, but there were a couple of songs they wanted to run through before the show. 

Much like the previous day, Harry made sure you weren’t too far from his side the entire time; watching rehearsals from the stage, hanging out with the band and crew at craft services, and even a little makeout session in Harry’s dressing room, until you kicked him out so that you could start getting in your costume. 

He begged to stay at least while you did your hair and makeup, but you insisted it would give everything away. When he pouted and complained, you reminded him that it was his idea to surprise each other with your costumes. You laughed when he stomped out of the room like a child having a temper tantrum. 

You were pretty nervous about this costume, it was a bit of a departure from your princess costume the night before. It was either going to be a huge hit or a fantastic bomb. You gave yourself one final look in the mirror, hitting your hair with a little more texturizer before texting Harry that you were ready. Before he could get to you, you went into the bathroom and shut the door, allowing yourself the opportunity for a proper reveal. 

“Let’s have a look,” Harry said as he entered the room. His face dropped when you were nowhere to be found. He saw that the bathroom door was closed and ran over tapping on it softly. “Princess? C’mon out. Let’s see what you’ve got.” 

You take a deep breath, turning the knob and stepping out into the dressing room. Running your hands through your hair and flopping it to your right side. You stand frozen in place, waiting for Harry’s reaction. 

He studied you carefully, starting with your messy hair and running down to the white t-shirt with rolled sleeves, and tight black skinny jeans down to your brown Chelsea boots. “Are you…”

“I’m you,” you said tentatively. “Well, I mean like old you. Young you? One Direction you.” The words spill out of your mouth so quickly you don’t even know what you’re saying. 

Harry remained silent as he stepped up to you to get a closer look. He walked around you, wanting to see the costume from all angles. He stopped when he got to your left arm, lifting it and examining it closely. “You even have the tattoos.” He marveled. 

“I uh… yeah. I cut up a pair of tights to draw them on.” You answer nervously. “Is it… are you…”

“This may be the greatest costume I’ve ever seen.” He says. You look over and see his wide, dimpled grin. “You look… I mean wow.” He ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Really?”

“Absolutely. There is one problem though.” Your brows round in question. “It’s a little alarming how much this is turning me on.” You burst out laughing, swatting at his chest, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, cupping your cheek with his free hand. “I’m not joking.” He says just before pulling you into a heated kiss. 

Harry practically dragged you down the hall, eager to show everyone your costume. You felt a huge relief knowing Harry liked your costume, it was just icing on the cake that everyone else went wild for it as well. They were all taking pictures of you while Harry tried to instruct you on how to pose and what face to make to be the most authentic. 

Once the excitement of your reveal died down, everyone went their separate ways to get ready for the show. You sat on the couch in Harry’s dressing room, scrolling through your phone as he changed in the bathroom.

The sound of the door opening pulled your attention, you looked up and smiled as he moved towards you in a sea of ruffles. 

“Well?” He held his arms out and did a quick spin to show off the costume. 

You chuckled as you jumped up and ran over to him, playing with the ruffles around his neck. “Very bouncy. This is going to look amazing on stage. Especially with the way you move around.”   

“Ah, so you’ve noticed my moves?” He says slyly.

“Well you drag me to these shows to watch you perform, I kind of can’t help it.” You say sarcastically, making him laugh and pull you close, smothering you with kisses. 

“I’m going to make you a fan whether you like it or not,” he joked. 

You’re interrupted by a knock at the door, notifying Harry that he needs to start making his way to the stage. He gives you one last lingering kiss before taking your hand and leading you out of the room.

Walking a few steps behind him, you finally catch a glimpse of the back of his costume. “This part kind of looks like a diaper though,” you chuckle. 

He turns around, eyeing you curiously, you tap your hand against his rear and he arches a brow at you. “Does it? Or were you just looking for an excuse to touch my bum?” 

“I have moves too,” you shrug. 

Harry smirks, shaking his head at you. “I’ve noticed.” 

You're led to the same area you were in the night before, waiting for the show to begin. A lot of people seemed to notice you, you had people calling out to you telling you how much they loved your costume, a few even snapped some pictures. It was sweet, but you hate having attention on you, so you were a bit uncomfortable. 

Jeff noticed and stepped a little closer to you. “I know it’s weird, but you’ll get used to it.” 

You smiled and nodded politely, but you knew there was nothing to get used to. After tonight, you’d go home and the past week will all just be some crazy memory. Harry would just be a memory. 

The show was electric, the crowd was rowdier than you had seen at the other shows, and you could tell Harry was absolutely feeding off their energy. He would glance your way often, offering a wink or a smile which you would happily return. When his eyes traveled in your direction during What Makes You Beautiful, he could barely contain his laughter, looking at you, dressed like him during that period of his life. 

When the opening notes of Sign of the Times started, you were hit with the realization that your time with Harry was coming to an end. You had done a good job of keeping your feelings at bay, but the truth of the matter is that you had fallen in love over the last seven days, and when you woke up in the morning it was all going to be over. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you started crying until you saw Harry’s face drop when he looked at you. He immediately pulled the microphone from the stand and moved to your side of the stage. You brought your hand up and wiped away the tears, he held up a tentative thumbs up, asking if you were alright. You nodded in response, but he didn’t move. You took a deep breath, wiping away some more tears before returning the thumbs up. He smiled softly at you before moving on. He would continue to shoot you worried glances for the remainder of the show. 

When you got back to Harry’s dressing room the door was already shut, you assumed it was because Harry was in there. You knocked gently, Harry immediately called for you to come in. 

He was pulling his hoodie on as you entered. When his head popped out, your eyes immediately locked and he gave you a sad smile, “Was I really that bad?” He said, trying to keep the mood light.

You shook your head with a humorless chuckle. “No, I think that was the best of the three.” You say, referencing the three shows you had been to. 

“All the shows you’ve been to have been the best ones,” you eye him curiously. “You being there makes me better, I want to impress you.” 

“Mission accomplished.” You say quietly, you were barely able to hear yourself over the sound of your heart breaking. 

“Excellent, I’ll announce my retirement immediately.” He joked. When you didn’t laugh, his face fell and he stepped up to you, placing his hands on your hips. “Hey,” you keep your eyes trained on the floor, afraid you’ll fall apart if you look at him. He lifts your gaze, kissing away the stray tear that had broken loose. “Talk to me, princess. What’s wrong?” 

You shrug, taking a shuddered breath to try to compose yourself. “I’m sorry.” 

“Shh,” he coos softly. “You don’t ever have to apologize to me for expressing your feelings. I just want to know what’s wrong so I can help.” 

“I… I just…” Your breath hitching with each word. 

Harry guides you to the couch, sitting you down before sitting beside you and wrapping you in his arms. “Take your time, I’m right here.” He holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

“It’s so stupid, I’m not this girl, I don’t do this.” You mumble between sobs. “I just, it hit me that I’ve gotta go home tomorrow, and you’re going to fly off and keep touring, and I’m just really going to miss you.”

“Oh honey,” he squeezed you tighter. “I’m going to miss you too.” 

“Really?” 

Harry pulls back, taking your face in his hands. His heart sinks when he sees your red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. “So. Much.” He punctuates each word with a kiss on your lips. “But just because we aren’t going to be in the same place doesn’t mean you’re getting rid of me. I’m still going to blow up your phone every day, and FaceTime you after every show. Though I’m heading to the west coast, so the calls will be a little later.” 

He gives you a wink, making you laugh. “There’s that beautiful laugh.” He rubs his thumbs over your cheeks to wipe your tears and pulls you close to kiss your forehead. “We still have a little time. We can spend it crying and already missing each other, or I can take you back to your hotel and we can watch a silly movie, or just talk, whatever your sweet little heart wants.”

You nod, surging forward and crashing your lips against his, pouring all your feelings into the kiss. He returns it with just as much fervor. You pull away breathlessly, sighing at the sight of Harry’s wide grin. You can tell he’s about to say something stupid. 

“Except for that you little minx,” he chuckles. “There’s not nearly enough time for us to do that properly.”

You laugh, ignoring the butterflies that stirred at the thought of taking things further with Harry. He was right, this wasn’t the time for that. Besides, leaving him was already going to be hard enough. 

You changed out of your costume and went with Harry back to your hotel. You put on the television, but it was mostly just there for background noise, you two stayed up until sunrise talking. Whenever Harry would see your mood start to shift, he would hit you with one of his corny jokes, doing whatever he could to make you smile. 

When it was finally time for your goodbyes, they were tearful and much more emotional than you had planned. You had hoped that you had gotten it all out of your system after the show, but as soon as he stood from the bed, your emotional dam burst once again. 

It was a long goodbye, Harry doing everything he could to make sure you were alright. There were plenty of hugs, whispered ‘I’ll miss you’s and promises of seeing each other soon. Then, with one final kiss, Harry was gone. You watched him as he walked down the hallway, before he turned the corner, he looked back once more blowing you a kiss which you pretended to catch and place on your cheek. He shook his head and pointed at his lips before blowing another kiss, this time when you caught it, you placed it on your lips. He gave you that signature smile once more, paired with a thumbs up, and just like that, he was gone. It was a perfectly Harry way to say goodbye, and it left you perfectly heartbroken. 

[moni-logues]

Namjoon fic prompt: 🚿🧼

Not sure to what extent this fulfils the brief, but I had a LOT of fun writing this one!!!!!!!!! Thank you anon!!! this is unbeta'd and kind of unedited. PEACE.

Sexts and Showers

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader

Genre: pwp/smut, secretly dating

Summary: Namjoon accidentally sends a photo meant for you to your roommate, who does not know that the two of you have been sleeping together. First you deal with one problem (sex with Namjoon), then you deal with the other (telling all your friends about it)

Word count: 2.8k

Content: shower sex! Namjoon and reader haven't told their friends they've been fucking!, sexting, a dick pic, oral sex (f. receiving), unprotected sex

* * *

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Yeji repeated over and over as she barged into your room and sat herself on your bed. “Why is Namjoon texting me this?!” 

She thrust her phone into your face and the colour immediately drained from it. 

Namjoon: I think I'm going to need a cold shower... unless you want to join me... 

Ok, you thought, could be worse. There was maybe some wiggle-room left for some kind of plausible deniability. 

Unfortunately, the text was only part of it. It was accompanied by a photo that left almost nothing to the imagination. He wasn’t fully naked, but as near as dammit. You could’ve seen his erection from space.  

You spluttered, choked, didn’t know what to say. And then another message came through. 

Namjoon: OH FUCK 

And in a second, both previous bubbles disappeared, replaced by ‘This message was deleted’. 

Namjoon: I know you saw that... I can see you read them... 

Namjoon: I’m SO sorry 

Namjoon: Obviously they weren’t meant for you, Yeji 

Namjoon: PLEASE forget you ever saw them 

Namjoon: PLEASE 

Namjoon: PLEASE PLEASE 

Namjoon: I’m so so so so sorry 

“Wow,” is all you could choke out.  

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Yeji screamed, so close to you that you thought your eardrum might burst. “WHO IS HE SEXTING?!” 

The answer was you. Or rather, he was supposed to be sexting you and not Yeji. He had been sexting you recently. Doing a lot more than that, too. You just hadn’t told anyone yet.  

It was an accident, really. Neither of you meant it to happen. It just did. There was nothing ground-breaking about it. Same old story: you drink too much and get a little handsy with each other because you’ve secretly kind of always liked each other; then you get more than a little handsy and then you do it again and again and, suddenly, it’s A Thing. A thing you decide not to tell everyone else about.  

You sat on your phone to try to hide its buzzing. You didn’t need to check it to know that it was Namjoon. You didn’t know why he was calling; you and Yeji lived together: of course she was going to run straight to you with this. Of course you wouldn’t be able to answer.  

“I don’t know,” you answered Yeji. “It might just be some person from an app.”  

She looked at you sharply. 

“Why are you not also screaming?! Did you not SEE what I saw?! What I showed you?!” 

“I saw it! I saw it! But... I don’t know, he’s a grown man; he can sext who he likes.” 

“Not without telling us! Ugh, the gossip! He’s depriving us! Besides, wow, who knew he was packing like that?”  

You nudged her with a grin. 

“Ahh, let the man have a couple of secrets, eh? What's the harm? He’ll tell us when he wants to. And I think he probably doesn’t want you to know he’s packing like that. Doesn’t want me to know either,” you added hastily. “He would probably prefer that neither of us had seen that. You shouldn’t have shown me that! He’ll be embarrassed. Just let him have his secrets and his privacy, at least for today.” 

“But I want him to tell me NOW! I’m going to reply to him. The interrogation is starting. Maybe I’ll call him.” 

She was already standing and wandering back out of your bedroom.  

“You want to interrogate him with me?” 

“No, thanks; I’ve got some stuff to work on.” 

“Suit yourself. I’ll fill you in later.” 

She shut your door as she left and you whipped out your phone. 

Namjoon: oh god i’ve done something bad 

Namjoon: like really bad 

Namjoon: I was trying to text you—I was supposed to send it to YOU 

Namjoon: I accidentally sent a photo of my dick to Yeji 

Namjoon: she definitely saw it 

Namjoon: I don’t know how I get out of this. What do I say? I can’t tell her it was meant to go to you! 

Namjoon: Help me  

You laughed and pressed dial, hoping Yeji didn’t actually call him herself. 

“Hey.” He sounded a little breathless, his breathing a little heavy down the phone. 

“Yeah, so Yeji just left my bedroom actually. She showed me what you sent.” 

Namjoon groaned. 

“I’m sorry.”  

“You don’t have to be sorry; it was just a mistake.” 

“But how do we get out of it?”  

“I don’t know. I told her it might just be someone on an app; you could go with that. Pretend to have a casual thing-” 

“But then if we come out and say we’re... whatever we are, the timeline won’t work-” 

“Oh, that’s a bridge we can cross when we get to it. We can just say you lied to keep it a secret.”  

“I guess.” 

“Seriously, Namjoon, I think it’ll be fine. Yeji will find something else to obsess about soon enough, by tonight probably.” 

You were trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince him. You were right, Yeji would find something else to be distracted by. It probably wouldn’t erupt all over your friendship group; it probably wouldn’t get out of hand. They probably wouldn’t tease him mercilessly about it until you abruptly shouted up that it was you, thus revealing everything.  

Probably. 

It’d be fine.  

He groaned again. 

“Just such a stupid thing to do. And I’ll tell you this for free: a very effective boner killer, too.” 

You laughed. 

“So you don’t want me to come over and shower with you?” 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t say that. My door is always open to you, you know that.” 

You sighed. 

“I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight so I don’t know if I’ll make it.” 

“Ok.” 

“But keep thinking those thoughts, ok?” 

“Yes, ma’am.”  

“Oh and Namjoon?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Send me the photo, yeah?” 

* 

You didn’t know about Namjoon but you did keep thinking those thoughts. They were driving you to distraction. You had barely read more than a page of your report in the last half-hour. You kept unlocking your phone, looking at your message thread with Namjoon, at that photo. At a certain point, it becomes more efficient to do the distracting thing first and then knuckle down. Get it out of your system so you can concentrate afterwards. That was starting to sound like a very appealing course of action. 

You picked up your phone again.  

You: have you showered yet? 

Namjoon: No, why? 

You: Can I come over? 

Namjoon: Do you even have to ask? 

Namjoon: (that means yes. Please. Please come. Come now) 

You shut your laptop; Yeji was similarly sequestered in her bedroom so you were able to sneak out without rousing any sort of curiosity. Thank god. 

* 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

“So about this shower.” 

The door had barely closed behind you before Namjoon was kissing you, pulling you closer, running his hands up your body.  

“You really want to shower?” he asked. His voice was low and gruff, his words mumbled against your neck. 

You laughed. 

“Transparency: I want you to fuck me in the shower.” 

He responded by nipping at your earlobe.  

“You gonna ask nicely?” 

“No.” 

He gave your nipple a tweak and you jerked against him, your hips knocking into his, drawing a quiet moan from his mouth. He grinned at you and kissed you firmly. 

“That’s my girl.”  

Your clothes littered the floor as they were discarded en-route.  

“Why haven’t we done this already?” Namjoon asked as he hoisted you onto the edge of the counter. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this so much.” 

“You’re a shower sex guy, huh? Noted.”  

“For you? I’m an anywhere-sex guy.”  

Your words were taken from you, from your mouth to his as he pressed his lips to yours and licked into your mouth. You were hot already, even before the shower began to fill the room with steam. That was the thing about Namjoon; he made you so impatient. The mere thought of him had your heart racing. A kiss was enough to get you wet. You were feral with need for him. Insatiable. 

When he kissed you, your mind was wiped clean, a blank static fuzz. When he sucked hard bruises into your neck, your chest, you were nothing but animal. No shame, no overthinking, no insecurity, just pleasure buzzing all over your skin, shivering down your spine, coiling in your guts, pooling in your core.  

Namjoon sank to his knees on the hard, tiled floor and kissed your inner thighs. He wrapped his arms around them, pulled you a little closer—you clutched the edge of the counter and his hair for balance—then he licked you, firmly from slit to clit and back again, into every fold and then into your cunt. You weren’t backward about coming forward and, when you had first done this with Namjoon, you had been fully prepared to tell him how to do it, how you liked it. He hadn’t needed the instruction. That first time, he’d had you reeling after a screaming orgasm within a minute.  

You didn’t think you’d last even that long this time. Not with his lips around your clit, his tongue warm and wet against it, the soft pressure as he sucked, the harder pressure as he flicked, the feel of his fingers as he rocked them inside you, insistent and unstoppable. He made a mess of you and, moments later, you made a mess of him, coming over his face, your slick dripping down his hand.  

He pressed sticky kisses onto your stomach, his tongue laved over your stiffened nipples, his lips pressed softly against yours and then harder, his teeth took your bottom lip and he bit down.  

“So about this shower,” he murmured against your lips, his eyes poring over yours.  

You couldn’t speak, could only nod, and he held you steady as you settled your feet back on the floor, your legs still wobbly.  

The room was hot now, the water hotter. As Namjoon crowded you against the shower screen, you felt breathless, a little suffocated but you didn’t know if that was down to the steam or to Namjoon. He ran his hands all over you as you kissed, your bodies pressed tightly together, his flushed, leaking dick trapped between you.  

Whereas Namjoon made you impatient, he seemed to have an unlimited supply of patience. He soaped you up, every inch of you, and you realised how intimate this was; it suddenly wasn’t just sex. He was touching your body with a different kind of care and attention now. Sex was imminent but this moment, this moment wasn’t about sex really. He turned you around, gently, running his hands down your back and over your backside, all the way down to your feet and all the way back up. He pressed a kiss to your soapy shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips then found the shell of your ear. 

“Baby, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered and a spark rushed down your spine.  

You turned and kissed him, trying to say with your body what you couldn’t find the words for. And then, 

“Can you fuck me now?” 

He grinned and turned you back around, his hands squeezing at your glutes, kneading, then pushing you forward a little, smoothing up your back and along your arms, placing your hands flat on the tiled wall, braced. He held you like that, in suspense, in anticipation, his hands here and there, his lips first on your hip, then the back of your neck, his body distant, then pressed close.  

You begged because you had learnt that he liked it. That he liked it when you sounded a little breathless, a little whiny, your voice catching as you asked him, please, please, to fuck you.  

“Namjoon... Namjoon... Please?” 

You dipped your head, pressing your forehead to the wall, your fingers scratching down the tiles as you continued to clench, your soft, wet walls coming together around nothing. Still.  

“Just one more time, baby. Just ask me one more time.” 

“Please fuck me. Namjoon, ple- ah, fuck—hnn-” 

It was familiar now, the pressure of the stretch as he pushed inside you. You swore quietly again as he bottomed out and dragged backwards, slowly, torturously slowly. He kept a hard grip on your hips, keeping you or him steady or both. The steam swirling around you, the clean, fresh scent of Namjoon’s soap, the water hitting your skin, Namjoon’s lips on your neck as he thrust a little harder now, squeezing past your g-spot, making your legs tremble—it was overwhelming. You felt transported. No longer just in the shower in Namjoon’s apartment. No longer was this just sordid nor was it mundane. It was you and Namjoon. A thing that had lain dormant in you, something you hadn’t seen coming until it happened and then you couldn’t believe that it hadn’t happened before. This was what you had been looking for. Yes, him fucking you, yes, the way he kissed you and the way he knew which buttons to press, yes, his dick hot and heavy on your tongue, thick and slightly curved and fucking you just right. Yes, all of that but more, too.  

You had not really talked about where this was going, what you were to each other, but now you knew and your heart grew three sizes.  

Namjoon grunted behind you, his breathing becoming laboured. Your name fell off his lips as though it had always lived there. His fingers found their way forward and onto your clit, rubbing in circles that started slow and got faster and faster as you made your dizzy way to a second orgasm.  

He wasn’t far behind, his thrusts hard and rhythm faltering before he came with a long drawn-out curse. He pulled you backwards, held you tight against his chest and you were grateful for the support, not sure if you could stand.  

“As good as the fantasy?” you asked, panting, your head tipped sideways and up to look at him. 

He kissed you, deep and slow, making your knees weaker, your hands gripping tight at his arms around your waist.  

“Better. Way better.”  

You twisted and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you again, pushed you backwards, your body meeting the wall. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping lightly with his teeth, then he opened his mouth and you rolled your tongue with his, still able to taste yourself on him. You traded kisses, still under the persistent patter of water, still hot and wet and soft against the unyielding tile. Namjoon murmured your name against your lips.  

“What should I tell Yeji, huh?” 

“You could always tell the truth,” you answered, too dazed to think it through. 

“You want to tell people about us?” 

“I never minded in the first place. You were the-” 

“No,” he said. 

He pulled back and looked at you quizzically. 

“What are you talking about? It was you who suggested keeping it a secret,” he continued. 

“Not at all! It was you!” 

“No, it wasn’t!” 

“Well if it was neither of us, then why are we keeping it a secret?!” 

“I don’t know!”  

You looked at each other, aghast, bewildered. Then you laughed.  

“We’re so stupid.” 

You kissed his shoulder and he returned it on your temple. 

“So should we just tell people now?” 

“What do we tell them?”  

You shrugged.  

“That depends what you want this to be, I guess.” 

“What do you want it to be?” 

“I want to be with you.”  

The sigh of relief that came from Namjoon was so large it was almost comical.  

“Me, too. With you.”  

“So it’s settled then.” 

“Settled.” 

You nodded at each other, once, firmly, and then went back to kissing under the water. 

* 

Later, you sat with Namjoon in his bed, resting between his legs, your back against his chest.  

You: btw, Namjoon meant to send that photo to me 

Yeji: um 

Yeji: WHAT 

You took a photo of the two of you, Namjoon’s topless torso visible, your heads close, your smiles respectively bright and bashful. You sent it to Yeji. 

Yeji: WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

You: yeah it’s kind of a thing 

You: that we’ve been doing 

You: for a little bit  

You: probably going to keep doing it some more, tbh 

When she didn’t reply, you assumed she’d had a heart attack. That, or she was busy letting every single person she’d ever met know about the two of you. If you needed news spreading, she was the one to go to.  

“So now everyone knows,” Namjoon said, nuzzling against your neck, dropping light kisses against your skin. 

“Everyone knows,” you replied, tipping your head slightly to give him better access. “Oh, also,” you said, suddenly remembering, “everyone knows about your big dick, too. There’s no way Yeji kept that back.” 

He laughed, hearty and full.  

“I think I’m ok with that, actually.” 

[zerobaseonefics]

cuddles and movie ㅡ park hanbin

park hanbin x reader

requested : you give the silent treatment to park hanbin, and he becomes clingy. dear anon, i hope it will turn out the way you wanted <3

warnings : none, just fluff!!

1359 words

the scent of sweat was finally going through park hanbin nostrils when he sat on the floor of the dance practice room. checking the hour, he realized he had spent more time than he was supposed to do here, torturing his dance mates for hours. you know how hardworking he is, and how he won't let his teammates go home until everything's finally perfect. and there was this show his dance crew would be giving next thursday, and as a leader, it was his mission to make sure they do well.

it's only when he realized that his crewmate, kamden, looked more sleepy than usual and was dancing with his eyes closed like some type of zombie, that hanbin decided to wrap it for today.

yes, he realized he did a lot today.

yes, he questionned himself about how yedam's little body still had energy.

he realized it was maybe too much, but there is something that hasn't crossed his mind yet : it was 8pm, and he promised you, his s/o, that he will be home at 5pm, so you guys could go on a date.

in fact, hanbin was so stressed about that show he absolutely forgot about the date. and it was not the first time. after the practice, because he kinda felt bad for his tired friends, he offered them to have food. they all said yes, even the sleepy kamden, who could just not pass on food.... he'd go, eat the dish that feels tastier because he didn't pay for it, and sleep on the table when he's done or something.

anyways, all of those events made hanbin go home around 10 o'clock. he took off his shoes, throwing them somewhere in the corridor. the most important thing for him right now was to shower. and so, he went straight to the bathroom.

it's only when he accidently let cold water hit his body that he got back to his senses. he picked up the pieces of the puzzle, one by one. how was it so dark outside and you didn't seem to be home ? i mean, he hasn't see you when he got there, when you're usually waiting for him in the living room... he thought you might have gotten to sleep, but it was way too early and you weren't the type to sleep at that time of the night. and then, it hit him. opening his mouth in disbelief, he realized he had missed you date. a-fucking-gain.

he hurried to finish his shower, asking himself repeatedly what the hell was wrong with him, and yeah i agree, what the hell is wrong with you park hanbin. how could you forget about your amazing s/o, like?? give it to me.

he got out of the bathroom after he was done and dressed, and went straight up to look for you in your shared apartment, calling your name with hesitation. you never replied once, and he found you in your room, reading some book. he felt even more bad when your eyes ended up on him and he felt how disappointed you were. your eyes went back to your book, ignoring him, as he went closer to the bed your were lying on.

"hey y/n...." no answer.

"you...you had a nice day?" still nothing.

"listen... i'm so sorry i forgot our date, again. i know it's no excuse but i was just so focused into practice that i haven't see the time pass and then i felt bad for my teammates and..."

he was discouraged in talking more, as you wouldn't answer. he saw the light when you decided to get up, closing your book. he opened his arms too greet you, but you just passed by him, going straight to the living room. he called your name one more time, to which you responded by showing him your palm, like someway of saying "talk to the hand". he asked himself if maybe you needed some more space...

you know, it's just that before you, the poor boy never felt the warmth of another person. like, yeah, that loser was focusing on dance and didn't realized he could fall in love or something with anyone. like, please get him out of that practice room. and so, he was not a bad boyfriend, far from this, but sometimes, shit happens, and he has no idea how to fix it.

and if hanbin couldn't fix his own problems, another hanbin would do it for him.

"oh that's very bad...", said sung hanbin on the other side of the phone after park hanbin told him everything.

"hyung, do you think they are going to break up with me ?", whined your boyfriend.

"nooo !! i mean, i don't think so. but it's only logical that they are that mad..."

"what should i do ?"

"make it up to them. they wanted some of your love and attention, nothing more, but you cancelled so many of your dates. last times, at least, you warned them that you couldn't make it, but this time you just said nothing about it. if they want your love and attention, give it to them now, show them you're really sorry and maybe they will open up about it more easily."

after, that call, park hanbin went straight to join you in the living room, sitting next to you on the couch. you didn't spare him a single look, and he was almost discouraged before he remembered what his friend told him. plus, he just missed you so much, he couldn't stand the silent treatment you were giving him.

slowly, he went to take your hand into his, holding it gently, looking at you to see if he got some reactions out of you. nothing. taking your hand to his lips, he kissed the back of it, as you looked away so he won't see how affected you were by the gesture.

"y/n, i missed you so much. could we talk about this ?"

even if he got no answer out of it, he knew it was starting to work when you got up. let's be real, you were kinda enjoying it, so you couldn't just give in that easily. keep going boss!! make him regret!! don't let him get into your mind!!

however, when you decided to get up to avoid him once again, he just pulled you onto his laps, making you seat on them. an arm sneaking around your waist looking at you with eyes full of hope. gently, he put one strand of you hair behind your ear.

"you look good today, it's a shame i couldn't take you anywhere or see you enough..."

"well, i wonder whose fault it is, right ?" you finally answered.

"all mine. i'm so sorry."

"it's not the first time you doing it, hanbin. i get all the stress you might feel because of your incoming show, and i get that you have responsabilities as a leader... but you could've at least call me. so i won't wait for you, or worry about the fact that you're not home at 10pm."

"i know love... i did wrong, but i promise next time i won't skip any of our dates. okay ? you're way more important than some dance competition. would you let me make it up to you ?"

bro BYE you are weak as hell for that boy. you knew you couldn't ignore him more, you felt bad for him and you just missed him so much. you still tried to put on your best act, to making him unsure about your answer.

"hm... how will you make it up to me ?"

"how about some cuddles and your favorite movie ?"

"okay i'm down."

yeah once again you're weak. and that's how you spent the 15 next minutes laying on the couch, hanbin on top of you, his head hidden in the crook of your neck as he whispered some sweet nothing, telling each other about your day, placing some kisses in between all of that.

"hanbin."

"hm ?"

"i think we forgot the movie part in the "cuddle and movie" thing."

"...oh yeah right."

[bad-mixed-lib-dyke]

Small Update on the "Marriage" Thing

This is an update to this post

I've been busy and this week is finals so I can't get into as much as I wish but did wanna make an update while I'm fairly close to things. Not a super horny update, that will likely cum later~

Everything went/is going really well.

Better than I ever could have imagined.

The courtship week went pretty well. There was one night where things were pushed a little too far. But it was ok.

There was one night where I found out something really upsetting that was being actively hidden from me and it triggered a bunch of flashbacks and I thought he was in on it but I guess he really didn't know. That actually lead to a lot of good things for us. Though it's fucked up both of our trust in the friend I took the trip with here, forever in my case.

But that lead to him giving me the passcode to his phone and computer to try to establish trust. Also discussions about radical honesty (which my autistic ass already does, but it's nice to have it reciprocated)

We also went over some times from our past where I held trauma which was super healing and has made us closer than ever :3

We were able to find everything we were looking for thrifting. A dress and veil for me, the perfect champagne flutes, I got stuff to make a flower crown. The perfect ring for me.

The ceremony was just us, I put candles all over and we read our vows to each other. These are the ones I wrote if anyone cares.

I was worried I wouldn't be able to hold up my end of the "free use" deal, but we had a lot of conversation about boundaries and stuff (my ring position would imply different levels of consent :3) But I wound up not having to worry. I've had no issues in submitting whatsoever.

Some people seem to have the impression I'm gold star? I'm not. This wasn't my first time sleeping with a man. This wasn't even my first time sleeping with this man (though I have had my first time being sober/remembering it XD)

I'm sure I'll write more on that later :3

I started cleaning around his room while he's at work and after the first day, where I was super careful not to move things too far or make any major adjustments, he sat me down and told me to do whatever I wanted. He really emphasized that he trusts me and wants me to feel comfortable in the space too. It was really sweet.

I wound up spending 2 and a half weeks at his place, and the drop we both had when I came home was intense.

I was only supposed to be there for a week, but the night I was supposed to come home I got a fever. He took care of me and caught it from me(we're pretty sure I got it from his roommate), I cared for him while also dying cause I got my period right as I was recovering XDD

I'm so glad I'm doing this with someone I know so well and can have so much trust and love with. Honestly, for a fake relationship, it's probably the best one I've ever been in.

It was supposed to be a scene we did sometimes, but we sort of just slipped into it being 24/7

Our Song is House of Asmodeus from HelluvaBoss

His nickname for me is "My Little Imp Wife"

The things I get in trouble for are for thinking and saying "sorry" (He will let me know if I need to apologize and otherwise I'm thinking for myself again)

I made the account @mrsroswell for him so a lot of my more housewifey submissive stuff might wind up over there for those who like that kind of thing.

Alright, this is long enough and I have homework. Thanks to anyone who read this far XD

If anyone has any questions about the arrangement, feel free to ask them~

[whatevertheweather]

The Space in Between 3, 4, 11 and 12!

HARD HITTING QUESTIONS FOR MY FAVORITE FIC, bless you <3 (Also this has been sitting in my drafts for days, I’m sorry. Thank you, though. I am always happy to go off about this fic.)

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Yes that's fine this is fine I can totally pick a single line out of a 100k fic it's whatever. I reserve the right to be wrong about this (as in forgetting I actually favor something else), but off the top of my head I know I really loved the way the whole bathroom scene turned out in chapter 11. This doesn't hit quite the same without the context of the rest, but alas, the question is "line" not "chapter."

He’s hunched over his sprawled legs with his hands pressed to his chest like he can hold the cage of his ribs together, like he can keep it from collapsing, and his mouth is wide, and he can’t get a sound out because you can’t speak grief like this.

You know what, forget “line.” Here’s another.

And Simon had thought that maybe the universe might exhaust itself at some point, that maybe it would run out of demonstrations for the ways a heart can be broken, for every little angle the knife can slip in, but he was wrong.

(To anyone who hasn’t read it, I promise there actually is laughter too.)

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

You've tricked me into rereading 100k. I'm just trying to skim for dialogue to jog my memory, and next thing I know I've reread half of four different chapters, and then whoops, there's three more, and what do I have to show for it? This is hard. Rude, in fact, to make me pick just one. I'm going to pluck this tiny exchange out of chapter 5 and call it good because I do like it, and most other dialogue is riddled with spoilers.

“Snow,” Baz interrupts, pulling his eyes from the mysterious point of interest to look at Simon. “We are in such a position that you might find it easier to just get up and kick me.”

Simon snorts. “I’m just trying to figure you out. It sounds like a bad day and all, but, I mean how could it be worse than — I don’t know, worse than the day your mum died?”

“I’m serious, do you need me to lie down?” Baz asks. “Are you worried your shoes won’t be able to do as much damage?”

There’s another exchange I would choose, but it’s towards the end of the last chapter, so it’s off limits for out-of-context posting <3

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I have big feelings for this fic. Longest thing I’ve ever written, most thoroughly I’ve ever fixated, most fun I’ve ever had writing. And I didn’t write it with the intent of posting it. I wrote it because I was obsessed with it, and I wrote everything that I wanted to. Was there a lot in there that technically isn’t necessary to tell the story? I suppose. But everything in there is something I wanted there.

Everything is a moment that came to me when I was pacing circles in my kitchen or walking the dog or failing at sleeping. Half of chapter 8 exists because I was listening to an instrumental playlist so lyrics wouldn’t distract me, and then Phantom of the Opera came on and I thought, God I want them to dance to this. I remember the exact curb I was stepping onto when I wrote “Braden—looking, as ever, like every white guy Simon has ever seen mixed up into one, with the personality of none—is baring unreasonably white teeth in what might be perceived as a smile by someone who’s only read about them” in my head. I remember the exact balance of excitement and discomfort I felt when I jotted down one of the opening paragraphs in chapter 11 and thought “Man that’s fucked up.”

And that was the fun! I wrote things I’d never written before! I wrote things that were outside of my comfort zone! I wrote topics I didn’t know I could! A lot of it came from wayward scenes I didn’t intend to include but wrote just because they were in my head, and then I did include them! They became important! Because I wanted them to be! Ah!

This fic is just full of good memories, and there’s an overwhelming, nostalgic yearning whenever I think about it, and I love it to bits.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

That it’s based off of two pieces of media that already exist, and I can’t adapt it into its own book that I can put on my bookshelf and stare at.

SO THERE. I hope this was the sort of rambling you were looking for <3

(Questions from this list.)

[iamloveandlightsworld]

I had an okay day

The last month I've been talkative and not too down

But then like a switch

I feel like I'm being pulled under the water again

My mind is chanting stick a knife in your throat

You're disgusting

I hate looking myself in the mirror

I haven't been drinking water

So ofcourse my face looks like a monster

I haven't been moving ofcourse my body is disgusting

I don't have a personality ,I'm as bland as they come

I'm a fraud,an imposter

I'm a bad person who loses interest in people and then blame them for not caring enough

I'm pathetic because I expect people to care when I'm already pushing everyone away

Lately most shows I watch with mum there has been a suicide

And she'll comment something like Amejiua

And she has zero awareness that I am thinking and planning on how to die

There are so many people who have potential and are good people and have the will to live but they die

I wish I could give them my life

You might be wondering..ah..she was so weak and such a coward..did she expect us to read her mind...why didn't she ask for help...she knows we love her and we supported her

Maybe I'm wrong

I'm a lazy ass bitch who can't get off her ass and look for work

I've wasted everybody's time and money

Mum and dad must have spent a fortune on my education

But lil sad Gin...poor Gin...just take your meds and integrate into society and stop being so pathetic

You expect people to wake up and serve you

What a joke....can I just sleep and never wake up again

Why am I so resistant to God

People seem to have their lives together when they believe and trust in God

I don't really try to make an effort to get to know him

The being in charge of me

The being who supposedly loves me so much he brought me to existence to fulfill some type of purpose when I'm on earth....the one who will send my soul straight to an eternity of pain and misery

Gin...you think being this privileged is so miserable

Wait till you're in purgatory and burning in hell for an eternity

Why the fuck are you so resistant

I think it's because I'm exhausted

I don't want to be helped

Maybe I deserve an eternity for suffering

You're nothing but a waste of space

Taking up oxygen that someone else needs

Like I lie in bed and let mum slave herself with house chores

Like Fuck Gin....you could at least be helpful if you're going to lazy around in bed and eat free food and get free shelter and clothes and electricity and comfort

I mean why the fuck do you feel like you're suffering

What the fuck is wrong with me

JUST TAKE THE KNIFE AND PLUNGE IT IN YOUR HEART

YOU DESERVE A PAINFUL DEATH

YOU ARE NOT A GOOD DAUGHTER

YOU ARE NOT A GOOD SISTER

YOU ARE NOT A GOOD NIECE

YOU ARE NOT A GOOD GRANDCHILD

YOU ARE NOT A GOOD FRIEND

YOU ARE NOT A GOOD HUMAN

SO HURRY UP AND STOP BEING SUCH A PUSSY

THE MORE YOU PRETEND PEOPLE NEED YOU

THE MORE IM HURTING THEM, NO ONE NEEDS YOU

I MEAN THEY WILL BE HURT AND BETRAYED BY MY SELFISHNESS 😂😂😂🤣SEE EVEN IN DEATH YOU ARE A MISERY TO EVERYONE‼️

YOUR COALS TO BURN YOU ALIVE FOR ETERNITY ARE ALREADY BEING LIT

I MEAN I DONT WANT TO GO TO HELL

IM NOT EVIL

I DONT WANT TO BE ON LUCIFER'S OR GOD'S SIDE

I JUST DONT WANT TO BE ON ANYONE'S SIDE

I DONT WANT TO EXIST

I DONT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK GOES ON AFTER ONE DIES...BUT CAN I JUST PLEASE DISSAPPEAR AND CEASE TO EXIST

LOOK AT YOU GIN

RUNNING AWAY FROM LIFE LIKE A COWARD

AND ALSO TRYING TO RUN AWAY FROM MY PUNISHMENT

I FEEL LIKE I CANT BREATHE

I FEEL LIKE MY HEART IS BEING SQUEEZED SO HARD

YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO HUMAN SOCIETY

YOU SEXUALITY

YOUR MINDSET

NO ONE NEEDS SUCH FILTH,DIRTY STAINS IN THEIR LIVES

I WAS HERE BUT I WAS NEVER HERE

YOU SAID HELLO ONCE OR TWICE

SO MY DEPARTURE FROM EXISTING SHOULDNT AFFECT YOU AT ALL

JUST ATTEND MY SENDING AWAY BTS THEMED "FUNERAL"...CRY A LITTLE...REMINISCE SOME OLD TIMES WE HAD TOGETHER AND MOVE ON WITH YOUR LIVES

FOR MY FAMILY...I AM EXTREMELY PROFOUNDLY SORRY TO MY FAMILY...I WISH I COULD ERASE MYSELF IN A NOT SO TRAUMATIC WAY..LIKE A PHYSICAL ILLNESS OR SOMETHING...THATS EASIER TO ACCEPT AND MOVE ON

BUT MAYBE LEARN FROM ME

IT MIGHT BE PAINFUL

BUT PLEASE GROW CLOSER AS A FAMILY

STAND TOGETHER AND LOVE THE HELL OUT OF ONE ANOTHER

To be completely transparent and honest,Bangtan are a very high reason why I never stick a knife in my throat esp Park Jimin...I keep telling myself to wait and see what they do next....they will never know they had someone who loved them so much that they were my life jackets,my beam of light...they will never know of my existence as an individual and that's okay...it's been a great journey with them...they made me see the beauty of life but unfortunately the darkness won....I CAN BREATHE TOTALLY FINE BUT I CANT BREATHE....MY LUNGS ARE BURNING..MY MIND IS SCREAMING....DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE WHY WONT YOU DIE YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT....🤮🤮🤮YOU DISGUST ME..NOTHING ABOUT YOU IS LOVEABLE...WELL YOUR FAMILY LOVES YOU BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE..THEY CANT HATE YOU...GOD STRIKE ME DOWN..IM AN EMBARRASSMENT AND A WASTE OF SPACE, A GLITCH IN THE SYSTEM...PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON ME AND ERASE ME...PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON ME AND JUST MAKE ME DISSAPPEAR NEVER TO EXIST AGAIN..PLEAS HAVE MERCY ON ME AND FORGIVE ME

PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON ME AND DONT CONDEMN ME TO AN ETERNITY OF PAIN AND SUFFERING

GIN.....WHAT IS RHHSSUEYEHKSKAUJDJKDJWJEJJEJEJJEJWJJRJDJJAKSJDIIE...IM TIRED AND EXHAUSTED AND DONE

PLEASE DONT HATE ME

PLEASE FORGIVE ME

I don't own any of this photos credit to the original owners

[dinner-djarin]

Next To You (Bucky x reader)

Just a little one shot I wrote after watching FATWS on repeat. (I tried to make it gender neutral but I may have missed something so I'm sorry if it's not!)

Rating: Mature

No use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Bucky is having nightmares, and you're there to comfort him. Based on the Julia Michaels song If You Need Me. (so if the ending sounds dumb go listen to the song you'll understand why lol)

Warnings: Fluff & angst I guess idk, kinda dark themes, because well it's Bucky. Just two people who have definitely been through some shit. Oh ya that reminds me swearing. Suggested that intercourse has happened but nothing descriptive. A little (a lot) about trauma but mostly about nightmares. If I missed something pls lemme know, I don't want anyone to feel triggered reading. But if you can watch the show and be fine, you'll probably be okay with this.

Also just letting you know if I put ~ its cause I switch the focus from Bucky to reader, but I'm not switching POV completely its all written in reader POV.

Every night brought pieces of the past. He never knew which memory would be dragged to the surface once he let his subconscious take over - clawing and scrapping against the walls he put up, begging to be let out; to be confronted.

Some nights were worse than others of course.

He wasn’t sure how he was ever going to out run the monsters of his past. For a while he just stopped sleeping. It may not have been a permanent fix, but he thought some relief was better than none at all. He used to go days, even weeks, without sleep during the war, so he figured it might be the best way to silence the past.

Dr. Raynor, however, caught on quick.

A lot of her methods seemed like bullshit to Bucky. He could tell she was genuinely trying to help him, but he doubted anything she had anything to offer him that would prove to be effective.

But at the end of the day she was definitely no fool. He had a tough time lying to her. She didn’t take anyone's crap, and that might have been the only reason he trusted her, even a little. It may have been the only reason he actually gave it a sincere try (besides the fact he’d be arrested if he didn’t).

So he probably shouldn’t have been surprised when she caught on to his sleep strike. In fact she called him out on it only three days in. He thought he’d get longer than that. Even so, he was almost relieved. After only 72 hours he already felt the nightmares slowly creeping into the day. Every time a door slammed or a car horn blared his body tensed. Every time he turned a corner he’d reach for a knife he no longer carried. So maybe it was better to let his past haunt his nightmares. That way he’d be alone when the memories took over. That way he wouldn’t hurt anyone else.

But he made a mistake. He did what he told himself he could never do. He let you get too close.

Falling asleep in your arms felt better than any therapy session he could ever imagine. It was the first time in forever he could remember what it was like to be his younger self. The version of him that marvelled at the idea of flying cars; who thought he could save the world by enlisting. The dreamy eyed boy who was hopeful for the future, who thought he had a future.

Lying next to you made him feel in control, like his problems didn’t matter. He was there to keep you safe, and warm, and comfortable. He never thought he’d feel like that with anyone. He didn’t think he was allowed.

You didn’t question his metal arm for starters. When Bucky took off his jacket, after the hundredth time you insisted - “It’s like 100 degrees in here Bucky, please take it off, you’re gonna melt” - he thought he’d instantly regret it. But you simply looked at it with wonder for only a moment, before returning your eyes up to his own. Staring back at you, he saw the wheels in your brain click into place. He could almost hear your thoughts as you decided what your next move would be.

In the blink of his eyes you tore your shirt off and stood completely still in front of him. For a moment his emotions were mixed, and he worried where your sudden advancement came from, but then he saw it. A thick white mark slashed across your torso.

You took only one step forward before speaking. “It’s not exactly… I know it’s not the same thing at all. But the scars - the marks we carry - they’ll be with us forever, whether we like it or not. Even if they remind us of the worst pieces of ourselves, or the worst moments of our lives, it reminds us that we can move forward. And it reminds me that there’s something to move forward to. I don’t know…it doesn’t really make any sense but somehow it’s almost comforting.  To know that something will always be with us, till the end”

His mouth was on yours in an instant.

He had been hesitant to let anyone in. After coming back - after going through everything he’d been through - he felt like damaged goods. He worried that the minute he let himself be happy, everything would come crashing down again, and he had good reason to believe it. It just kept happening over and over. It seemed like every time he found even a small amount of peace, the battle made its way back to him.

But when he found you, when he felt you, he felt peace. The softness of your skin, the gentle wave of your hair, the light scrape of your fingernails against his back and chest, your quiet moans muffled by his own mouth on yours. Being with you made the horrors of his past melt away. Even when you clamped down around him and bit into his shoulder muscle, even when he knew you’d left marks all over his skin. Knowing they came from you made all the difference. They didn’t remind him of the wars he fought, or lives he took, or the atrocities he committed. The sting of your nails and teeth weren’t pains from his past, they were reminders of his present, of the possibility of a life he could have. With you.

But in the end he knew that it was all wishful thinking. He knew he wasn’t cut out for that type of future. He knew you deserved better.

So he decided to let you off easy, to disappear from your life, leaving your shared experience to the confines of your bedroom. A memory, nothing more. He knew he’d have to sneak away once you fell asleep, because that way it might not feel real. Everything that happened between you might disappear with him.

But then he fucked up.

He was waiting for your breath to even out, a sign he would take to mean you had fallen asleep, but after listening to the air rush out of your body, and watching your bare chest rise and fall, your hypnotic essence overpowered his will, and he fell asleep alongside you.

Only he wasn’t asleep for long.

Eventually the past caught up, as it always had a way of doing. Images, and sounds, and smells all came flooding back to his uninhibited brain - sleep made him an easy target. He was vulnerable to every torment he caused, and every mission he was forced to carry out. Tonight was no exception. His brain managed to sift through every wall he thought he had up, and trudge yet another painful memory to the surface. The image of himself taking life after life, cruelly and viciously. There was no remorse, no stopping him. He saw every crime lord and politician he was made to terminate. Until his brain moved away to a new idea. The image of a young woman. Innocent and pure. But in the way of his mission. The Winter Soldier spared none.

He woke up in a blind panic. His surroundings were unfamiliar. Something was wrong. Was he being held captive or-

~

“Hey,” you made yourself known to him, and he twisted his head back to see you sit up beside him. You were quiet, and a worried expression blanketed your face.

Is he angry, you thought for a moment? No. Your brain was tired, and it was slow to process. Not angry, scared.

You knew from the minute you saw his arm that there was more going on. You already had some suspicions, nevertheless you expected there to be something like this.

For a moment, the two of you stared at each other in silence. You watched him regain his breath, and you carefully shifted your legs to sit crossed underneath you.

His steel blue eyes cut through the darkness, pinning you down. You wondered what was going on in his mind, what he might be doing to regain his grip on reality. You knew this moment too well. The quiet. The darkness. The fear. Not sure of how to move forward.

You were scared too, but not of him - more like you were scared for him. You knew he must be going through something, and you wanted to be there to help, but you also knew that was easier said than done. “Being there to help” was a nice concept, but in reality - well things were generally more complicated. You didn’t know if it’d be alright to approach him, mainly because you were unsure of your role in all this. Were you really someone he wanted around when he was so obviously vulnerable? You’d never seen him so raw and exposed, like a wound you wished you could tend to, while also fearing that your interference could make things worse.

You knew he wasn’t going to ask for your help, you could see he wasn’t that kind of man, but maybe if you made the first step, and let him choose - maybe he’d let you in. So, you held out your hand and waited. After a moment, you saw him move, only slightly though. His eyes darted down towards your hand and he subtly lifted his fingers off the bed. But it only lasted a second. He froze again, hand hovering near yours, and that’s when you realized he had been reaching for you with his left hand. You had been wary to touch it before, you thought it was probably a sensitive subject. Something about the idea of touching his metal arm seemed more personal, if that was possible. Like only the most trusted people in his life might be allowed to… and maybe not even then.

You felt your own eyes drop to your lap, an almost nervous energy now emanating in the space between you. But just before you could drop your hand too, his fingers hesitantly entwine with yours.

You shot your eyes up to see his right hand grazing the palm of your left. As your gaze slowly elevated, you found your way to meet his own eyes, only to notice the very sudden change in them. Whatever fear or darkness hid their before had now melted away. You couldn’t place it, but whatever emotion he now held sent a chill from your core to your fingertips. A lump in your throat formed and for a moment, you thought you might never be able to breath again. The look in his eyes was almost soft, but with a hint of yearning. Fire was blazing through every nerve in your body, while a chill kissed your skin, making every hair stand on edge.

Feeling outrageously brave, you took your free hand up to his jaw and held him there, gently swiping your thumb over his cheek, and allowing your fingers to reach slightly past his hairline and to the back of his neck. You wondered if he could feel the raging storm of your emotions through your touch.

“You okay?” you managed to whisper to him.

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before” his answer pierced your ears with a hard tone, refusing to let any vulnerability resonate in his voice.

You shake your head at him, wishing he wouldn’t play pretend. “Okay then,” you mumble, letting your hand drop from his face. But as it fell, Bucky was quick to grab it, and hold it with a gentle squeeze. When you looked at him again, you knew he meant it as a reassurance, trying to tell you that he was okay.

~

He couldn’t handle the way you looked at him. Like you could see every thought in his head. A knowing gleam in your eyes told him that you didn’t believe him, and you’d be right not to. He wasn’t okay. He never really was. There was so much darkness surrounding him, poisoning every inch of his life. But you. Your touch was gentle and your voice was kind, and even though he had just seen your scar, he couldn’t help but think your world must have been so much brighter than his own. Looking in your eyes, he almost wished he’d never met you. He was so afraid that his pain might infect you too, the only good thing he had left. He wouldn’t ever be able to forgive himself if he let that happen; if he let his past ruin your future.

He wanted to leave, he needed to get out, before any of that could happen.

He slid off the bed quickly, and made his way to grab his clothes, but before he could you grabbed his hand - his left hand.

“Please Bucky don’t.” was all you could say. But the way your voice broke, on the verge of tears, fear of being rejected, of being left alone in the dark by the only man you ever wanted to let in - it was enough to stop his heart. He stood there, frozen from your touch. You kept his hand in yours, and for a second you worried it was too much. You worried you betrayed whatever trust you had built with him. Just holding his bare metal hand felt more violating and revealing than the fact that both of you remained completely naked. But you didn’t want to pull away. You didn’t want him to think you were afraid of him, afraid of the fact his hand could pulverize yours in a second - because you weren’t. You’d felt his touch. You knew how gentle and caring he could be. And you wanted him to see it too. That he wasn’t defined by his worst fears.

You pulled your body towards him, kneeling at the edge and facing him, “You don’t have to leave.” you spoke softly, as if he might be spooked and run off if you were any louder. “You don’t have to push everyone away. Please don’t push me away… I-”

Before you could finish, he was crashing into you. His tongue invading your mouth, like he was trying to soak up your unsaid words. His hands held your waist in place against his, steady and strong, but there was still resistance in his fingers; a hesitance to use too much force with you. You could feel how he feared he might hurt you.

Slowly you leaned back, feathering your fingers over his shoulders to guide him with you, and when he hovered over you, you let them slide into his hair, grabbing what you could and leading his head down…

~~~~

You lay there in the dark with your head on his chest, listening to his steady heart, feeling the crisp sting of metal graze your back. And even though you knew it was ridiculous, all you could think about was how you wanted to keep him safe. The man was stronger than any other human being, and probably thought you were fragile and helpless, and needed his protection more than anything. But still, you wanted him to be okay. You wanted him to know he could be safe.

“I’ll fight them for you.” you whimper quietly, suddenly worried that Bucky may have already fallen back to sleep.

“Huh? Who- what do you mean?” his words stuttered and tripped over his tongue. His half sleeping brain was suddenly running a mile a minute trying to decipher your statement. Who were you fighting? Why would you need to fight them for him? Surely he was more capable of fighting anyone off. He should be protecting you-

“The monsters” you said a little louder. The words feel childish and awkward in your mouth, and once you said them, you wished to take them back. But you decided to push forward, “if you want me to… if you need me… I’m here”

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

That Damn Sex Pollen - Part 2

Pairing : Steve x Reader / Bucky x Reader

Words: 1800+

Warnings: Mild smut / swearing... nothing too bad!

A/N: Found part 2 in my drafts so here it is! There will be a final part to follow.

It had been just over 2 weeks since the Sex Pollen incident with Bucky, the incident that led to us having mind blowing sex and confessing to feelings we'd been hiding for a while. This wouldn't have been a problem if i wasn't already engaged to his best friend Steve Rogers!! Aka Captain America!!

Now don't get me wrong i love Steve, i love Steve more than I've ever loved anyone.... but i cant deny that i don't love Bucky as well! Since the moment Steve introduced me to his long lost best friend there was something between us, we had never admitted to our feelings or acted on them in anyway we kept it to ourselves. I had decided to push my feelings for Bucky aside and give Steve my everything.....That was until that damn sex pollen!!

Bucky volunteered to go on a mission with Sam and Nat the day after we got back to the compound and had been avoiding me ever since they got back a week ago, he would even leave the room as soon as i walked in!

Steve was currently in a meeting with Tony so i headed down to the gym hoping id see Bucky and we could talk about what happened and try and clear the air, if he kept avoiding me the way he was then Steve would get suspicious!

I walked into the gym and saw Bucky lifting weights  in the corner, i also saw the second he noticed me enter the room!! The weights were dropped and he started grabbing his things to leave.

"Bucky will you stop!" I said rushing over to him "you cant keep running away from me!"

"I just think its best to put some distance between us Y/N" he mumbled still avoiding eye contact.

"So you don't think we should talk about what happened in that warehouse?"

"No. No i don't! I think we need to forget all about that!"

"Fine! It never happened! But you need to get your shit together Buck! If you keep leaving every room i walk into Steve will know somethings wrong! You and me always got along before.... you were always hanging out with us and now? This is the first time I've spoken to you in 2 weeks!"

"I cant sit around and watch you and Steve together okay! It hurts too much.... I'm trying doll, i really am. I just need some time and space"

"Buck...."

"Don't" he said simply shaking his head keeping his distance from me.

"Okay..... i miss you" i told him truthfully as i backed away towards the door, Bucky gave me the smallest smile and nodded in agreement.

I was sitting on the sofa watching a movie when Steve walked in a couple hours later.

"Hey sweetheart" he smiled leaning over the arm of the sofa and pressing his lips to mine.

"Hey babe, how'd your meeting go?" I asked grabbing his hand and pulling him down on the sofa with me. He chuckled but quickly settled down and pulled me into his arms.

"It was okay, just going over some details of tomorrows mission"

"Who's going?"

"Me, Buck, Wanda and Vision"

"I get the day off! Woo hoo" i joked as my hand moved under the hem of Steve's tshirt, my fingers stroking over the smooth patch of skin under his belly button.

"You fancy going for a run with me?" He asked as i felt his fingers stroke the back of my neck.

"Not at all" i laughed "i just wanna stay here with you and watch a movie"

"You keep that up we're gonna be doing more than watching a movie" he mumbled looking down at where my hand was still stroking.

"Oh really?.... you like this huh?"

"Y/N...." Steve said before shaking his head chuckling.

"What?..... i like your happy trail"

"You do?"

"Mmhmmm...." my hand slowly stroked over the area again before slipping into the band of his sweat pants and finding his already hard cock "you do like that!" I teased as my hand wrapped around him and slowly started stroking.

"Jesus..... baby that feels amazing" he said as his head fell back against the sofa.

"See, isnt this better than going for a run?"

"Im not gonna argue with that!" He laughed before pulling me closer and kissing me hard. I quickly found myself straddling Steve, dry humping the huge bulge in his trousers as we made out like teenagers. I pulled his t-shirt off and trailed kisses up his chest to his neck... biting at that area where his neck and shoulder joined. Steve had one hand under my shirt fondling a breast whilst the other gripped my hip and rocked me against his hard cock.

"I need to be inside you" he mumbled in my ear before nipping at my earlobe.

"Please Steve...." i begged reaching into his sweat pants to free his cock.

There was a quick knock at the front door to our apartment before it opened

"Hey Steve, you ready...." Bucky was saying as he walked through the door.

"Oh shit!.... im sorry!" He said quickly turning to leave.

"Fuck!....Sorry pal i completely forgot, i got a little distracted" Steve chuckled "can we finish this later?" He said quietly to me and i nodded before climbing off his lap and heading to the bedroom.

"Its fine, we can go tomorrow" Bucky shrugged looking very uncomfortable.

"No lets go" Steve said standing up and grabbing his shirt from the floor.

"You might want to change your pants...." i heard Bucky say and turned to see him scratching his head awkwardly. Steve looked down to see the wet patch from where we had been grinding against each other moments before and blushed "oh shit, guess you're right. Give me 5".

After finishing a training session with Nat i headed back to mine and Steve's room for a shower. When i walked in i was surprised to see Steve's go bag next to the door, the shower running.... they got back early from that mission.

"Steve?" I called out as i made my way to the bathroom.

"Hey sweetheart" i heard him call over the running water.

"You're back early, did something go wrong or...."

"It went fine, easy mission"

"Thats good. You mind if i join you? I just got done training with Nat I'm a mess" i said stripping out of my sweaty work out clothes and tossing them in the dirty wash basket.

"Its all yours" he said stepping out and grabbing his towel "I've got to go to a debrief with Tony real quick but I'm all yours after. We have some catching up to do"

"Mmm i look forward to it" i smiled reaching up to give him a much needed kiss, i had missed him so much while he was gone. Before getting into the shower  I placed a pair of sleep shorts and a cami on the closed lid of the toilet ready to put on once i was done.

Steve went to get dressed while i showered, i was rinsing out my shampoo when he stuck his head in letting me know he was leaving for his debrief.

"Be back soon, love you" he said before rushing off.

When i was finished i stepped out the shower reaching for my towel to find it was gone!

"Are you fucking kidding me!" I moaned under my breath, the clothes i had set out were also missing! WTF!!

Oh well it wasnt like i couldnt walk around naked, id just have to make a dash for another towel!

I threw open the bathroom door and was just walking to the bedroom when the front door opened.

"Steve you ass! You took my towel and my clothes??"

"Ermmm...i..."

My head whipped round at the sound of Bucky's voice!!

"Bucky!? Shit! God I'm so sorry i thought you were Steve!" I quickly tried to cover myself as i rushed into my room and grabbed my robe, once it was secured i went back to see why Bucky was here.

"What are you doing here?"

"Steve asked me to cone grab a file he forgot..."

"He did? When?"

"Called me just now as i was heading down to the debrief"

"Why would he tell you to come in here.... he knew i was showering and he'd taken my clothes...."

"I have no idea, can i just grab that file and i'll be on my way..."

"Sure".

I sat down on the sofa rubbing my wet hair with a towel while Bucky disappeared into Steve's office for what he needed.

"Hey doll?...." he called from the office.

I smiled at the familiar nickname i hadn't heard in weeks.

"Yeah Buck?"

"There's no files in here"

"You're sure?..."

"Yeah, where else would he keep them?"

"Thats where it would be"

"There's no file in there" i heard Steve's voice and turned to see him leaning against the front door smirking.

"Steve.... what the fuck?"

"Im sick of this tension between the two of you, i miss us all hanging out together"

"So you take my clothes and send your pal here for a non existent file in hope's he catches me naked??! Are you mad?" I shouted shaking my head at him.

"You set us up?" Bucky asked appearing in the hallway.

"Guilty" Steve shrugged "enjoy the show Buck?"

"I don't get it.... why....?"

"Because I'm sick of you both pretending theres no feelings between you"

"He's lost his damn mind" i got up to walk away but Steve grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me close.

"I know what happened in that warehouse between the two of you"

My eyes went wide as i looked over at Bucky, he looked just as shocked so i knew he hadn't told him.

"Bucky didn't say a word sweetheart i saw the CCTV..... audio included" he smirked.

"Steve.... it wasn't like we had much choice that plant...."

"Oh i know baby, i know exactly what that plant was"

"You've known all this time and said nothing?"

"It was you, you put it there didn't you?" Bucky accused Steve "why the fuck would you do that Steve!?"

"I had to do something! The two of you are so loyal you never would've hurt me and acted on your feelings.... not without a little push".

Before i knew what i was doing my hand connected with Steve's cheek.

"You had no right!"

"Tell me you don't want him" Steve pointed at his best friend.

"No"

"See...." Steve smirked looking smug.

"Right now you're the one i don't want!" I said through gritted teeth and stormed into the bedroom slamming the door behind me and flipping the lock for effect, i knew it wouldn't keep Steve out but it made me feel better.

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier @fairlightswiftly @hiddelstannerbarnes @bellamy-barnes @buchanansebba @rosalynshields @turtoix @dottirose

[floreleine]

That GM prequel fic - part 3: Florence's POV

Part 1 (Madeleine, <1k, G)

Part 2 (Scarlet, 1k, G)

Ships: Floreleine & ScarletMay

Hiding the entire fic under the readmore this time for Part 1+2 spoiler reasons! This one's also rated G (or T if we're going for swear words and alcohol consumption I guess), a little over 1k words.

There will be at least 1 more part of this, and then I might post a revised and possibly longer version to ao3.

Bc idk where to put this in the fic itself yet, quick setting overview: they're not sitting around a table but instead Florence and Madeleine are sitting on a small couch, Scarlet is next to Madeleine on a wobbly kitchen chair and Anna May is sitting opposite them on a barstool at the kitchen aisle.

That night, the librarians plus Scarlet (and minus Baby, who is sleeping in the next room under a security camera that both Madeleine and Scarlet insist on checking every other minute) are sitting in the kitchen together for dinner and a drink.

Or five drinks in Anna May's case, as she downs the first one in one go and hasn't let go of the Whiskey bottle since. Florence can't blame her, really - if Madeleine had run off with some guy, no matter how early in their relationship, only to return a year later with tears and a baby... She has no idea what she'd be doing right now.

Madeleine and Scarlet are talking about the child right now, sharing child-caring advice - Florence is fairly certain that Madeleine has her knowledge from books and only from books, but she seems to have picked out sound advice from all that she has read at least - and Florence has to smile fondly at how Madeleine is glowing at the prospect of having a child in the library.

Scarlet is careful in her replies, not wanting to commit to anything, her eyes shifting back to Anna May whenever she doesn't think that the others are looking.

'She's afraid she'll kick her out after all,' Florence thinks with a quiet sigh. 'Can't blame her, Anna knows how to hold a grudge, and with how she is drinking right now... It isn't her friendliest appearance'.

Still, she thinks that they will work it out. They better. It's been a while since she has seen Anna May have an emotional reaction to just about anything, and it can't be healthy to keep it all locked inside, pushing all chances of happiness away.

Madeleine must have heard her sigh, and she leans back against Florence's side. Florence squeezes her arm, content to have her by her side, glad that they, at least, don't have to worry about their relationship status. Being with Madeleine always relaxes her, makes her feel like everything is alright in the world.

Madeleine presses a kiss to her chin and, after checking that both Scarlet and Anna May are looking down at their glasses, nods in the direction of the door. 'Should we give those two some privacy?'

Florence tilts her head for a moment to consider, then shakes her head, nodding at Anna May, and Madeleine winces a little. Yes, Anna is barely keeping it together now, who knows what she may say or rather shout if they left them alone... Anna May should get a chance to cool down, before she ends up saying something she doesn't mean and would regret.

As if on cue, Anna May throws back the rest of the Whiskey in her glass in one gulp and loudly brings it down on the kitchen counter as if to dispel the silence that has fallen.

"Fuck."

Madeleine looks like she wants to remind her about cursing with children in the house again, but Florence squeezes her arm to stop her. They don't need to irritate Anna May even more right now.

"I'm sorry," Scarlet says immediately. Florence doesn't think that she is apologizing for anything in particular, just for the situation in general, for present and past.

Anna May gets up and turns around, putting her glass in the sink and turning on the water, but then just leaning against it with her hands holding onto the metal edge and her knuckles turning white.

Florence is trying to decide whether to step in or not when Scarlet speaks up again in a shaky voice. "I can - I can leave, I don't have to -" she gets up, clearly ready to bolt, and Anna May flinches, but she doesn't turn back around.

"No-one's" leaving, Florence says at the same time as Madeleine says "No, don't be silly!" They share a smile, and then Madeleine squeezes her hand before getting up and walking over to Madeleine. "Come on, let me show you everything. You can sleep in the room with Samantha, me and Florence aren't really using it much anyway."

Florence watches them go with a soft smile. Madeleine always knows what to do, what to say. She's so grateful to have her.

Once the other two have left, Florence goes up to Anna May and slams the still-running tap down, making her jump.

"Stop wasting water and get a hold of yourself, Anna!"

Anna May whirls around, clearly ready to fight, but Florence just throws her a deadpan look and she deflates.

"Fuck, I don't know what to do." She slurs her words a little, but not as much as Florence would have expected after that much alcohol.

"Right now? You are going to drink some water so you will not be terribly hungover tomorrow. And tomorrow, you have got to think about whether you want that woman and her kid to stick around or not."

Anna May flinches a little, but when Florence sighs and pours her a glass of water, she takes it without protest and gulps most of it down in one go.

"I dun' want her to leave," she then murmurs, staring down at the glass in her hands. "She left me once, I don't want her to leave me again."

Florence sighs and pulls her into a hug. "Bloody hell, Anna, why did you never say anything? You must have been fucking heartbroken, and all you told us was that you gave dating one last chance."

Anna May half-laughs, half-sobs and clings to Florence like a lifeline. "Don't know. Didn't want to be weak. Didn't want it to be real."

"Oh, Anna," Florence sighs and squeezes her tightly. Then she takes a step back and fixes her with a hard look. "You've got to tell her that, you know that, Anna May? She is going to run away just to give you space while you are not talking to her because you're afraid she might run anyway."

Anna May sighs and grimaces a little, but nods. "I - tomorrow. I'll tell her tomorrow, before I can chicken out." she sighs. "I mean, it's not like I know whether she'd want to - whether she still-" she sighs. "She only left me because he didn't want to share, but maybe by now she's just over me."

Florence shrugs. "I can't look in her head, Anna, but from the way she looks at you... I think you guys will figure it out."

Anna May nods uncertainty, then frowns again. "And you'd be fine with it, if she's staying here... Indefinitely? I mean, she has a - kid -" she adds with a somewhat perplexed expression on her face, making Florence laugh. She's half of a mind to say 'congrats, you're a step-mom!' but stops herself at the last second. There will be time for that kind of joke when the peace between Anna May and that Scarlet isn't quite so fragile anymore. "Exactly," she instead replies. "So you know Madeleine will be mad at you forever if you let them get away."

Anna May snorts. "She did seem quite... taken by the kid."

Florence nods, frowning a little herself now. "She's always wanted kids, she just accepted that it isn't sensible in our line of work, and that I am not interested in them anyway. Seeing her with Samantha, now I'm wondering..."

"You did nothing wrong," Anna May reassures her. "And fuck, can you imagine having two kids around? It will be bad enough, trying to protect the one from everybody."

Florence sighs and nods. "I suppose. But I'm sure we'll manage. ...are you going to be alright now, or do I have to hide the Whiskey?"

"I'm not a drunk," Anna May replies a little offended, and Florence grins.

"I know you're not, but you sure made a great impression of one earlier!"

Anna May groans, and then she turns back to the counter to refill her waterglass. "Fuck, I'll be so dead tomorrow."

"Sleep in, then. Me 'n Madeleine will make sure Scarlet won't take off before you're awake and had your talk with her."

Anna May nods sharply. Florence smiles and squeezes her arm. "Well, get some sleep. I'll check on Scarlet and Madeleine."

~

Anna May nods again, and Florence sees her lean back against the counter with a deep sigh while she is leaving the kitchen. She really hopes that Anna May will take her advice to heart. Some heartbreak can't be avoided- but the one between her and Scarlet doesn't seem quite so inevitable.

Part 4

@phoenixhalliwell @thesevenwondersofawitch another update, hope you liked it!

If anyone else wants to be tagged for this series, lmk! Not tagging my usual GM tag list in every fic update as that would just be spammy.

Taking prompts!

[n7inky-fanfics]

Geth Dreadnought

CW: PTSD

.

.

.

Why is it that when Cerberus built this damn ship they put the one window that doesn't have shutters above my fucking bed? I swear, it had to have been on purpose. Assholes. I'm supposed to be sleeping right now, but there's no way in hell to sleep because space is just above me, taunting me. I just need to forget about the vacuum of space long enough to fall asleep.

Well, just because they didn't provide me with a damned shutter doesn't mean I can't just cover it myself. Time to get creative. I throw on my N7 jacket and some cargo pants, then catch the elevator down to engineering. I cautiously scan the hallway, hoping to avoid encountering anyone else. Now that we're in the clear after dealing with the Geth Dreadnought, most of the ship is on sleep block. The skeleton crew to keep it running will likely be too busy to notice me, but it's still possible.

Everything looks empty, so I head down to the undercroft. If I'm going to cover the window, I need to be able to reach it. I could have sworn that I saw a ladder down here... Ah, yes! Here it is! I carry the ladder into the elevator and back to my room without encountering anyone.

Next, I need to find something to cover it with and some adhesive. I think there might be a large tarp in the cargo bay, and I could use the super-strength adhesive we keep around for random patch jobs. I sneak down to the cargo bay and gather the remaining supplies. It looks like I'm going to make it back to my quarters undiscovered until the elevator stops on the crew deck. The doors slide open and I find myself face to face with a surprised looking Kaidan Alenko.

"Ahh, Shepard... I was just coming up to ask if you would like some tea." he says.

"Oh. Raincheck?" I shrug, well as much as I can with two armfuls of tarp and adhesive.

"Sure, sure... Hey, is it alright if I come up with you? I've been wanting to talk with you about what happened today." His eyes are gentle and caring. All I want to do is drop my barriers and tell him everything about how I feel, about the fear that I haven't been able to shake since leaving the Normandy to board the dreadnought. I want to cry and have him tell me it'll be okay. I want to let myself unravel.

But I can't, so I just nod and plaster on a small smile, hoping he doesn't notice how fake it is. He boards the elevator, and for a brief moment the silence is almost deafening. Then, he says "So... What's with the tarp?"

"Did you know that was the second time we managed to sneak up on the geth because they don't use windows?"

"Joker explained it to me after he made that comment. What's with the tarp?"

The elevator stops and slides open just in time to save me from that question. I move quickly into my room and drop the taro and glue on my bed. Kaidan leans against the wall that separates my desk from the rest of the cabin while I grab the ladder and position it under the far corner of the window. Kaidan watches as I climb the ladder with the tarp and glue in tow. I spread adhesive as far as I can on both sides of the corner, then press the tarp firmly against it. I hold it in place and begin counting the 180 seconds it should take for the glue to dry.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Ele-

"Hazel, what are you doing?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I wanted to see if I could figure out why you're gluing a tarp to your ceiling. I'm stumped, but that's not the point. What are you doing?" Kaidan crosses his arms firmly.

I must be on twenty-five by now at least... Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-"

"Hazel, why are you covering the window?" He moves closer to the ladder. I don't dare to look him in the eye, afraid that under his gentle gaze I might actually allow myself to break. Instead, I stare up at the tarp. What am I on? Forty? Probably.

Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five.

"Hey, look at me, Shepard." His voice is firm but kind, and I can't help but do it. I look at his face, into his caring and worried eyes, and I choke back a sob. He reaches up to me, offering his hand. "Come down from there and talk to me, please."

I could do it. He's giving me a chance to do it. I could step off this ladder and I could really, truly let myself feel it all. I could break down in his arms and stay there and let him make me feel safe. I want to, but... I'm Commander Shepard. I must continue to be Commander Shepard. I must stay strong.

"I'm fine right here." I say. My voice sounds hollow and foreign. How much time has it been? Maybe thirty more seconds? And I had been on forty before? No, forty-five.

Seventy-five. I turn to fave the tarp again. Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. Seventy-eight. Seventy-nine. Eighty.

"Please." His voice is soft, accented by a hint of sadness laced with concern. "Let me back in."

I'm screaming at myself internally. Don't drop your guard. Don't feel your emotions. Pack it down. Finish the job! Even as my mind is saying this, I feel my arms release the tarp. The adhesive hasn't had enough time to dry, so it simply falls away from the ceiling. Kaidan pulls me off the ladder and into his arms. For one, tiny moment, I fight it. I tell myself that I won't cry.

The floodgates open, and now I'm sobbing in his arms. My body is so racked by my sobs that I can't keep myself standing. Kaidan takes on my weight and gently lowers us both to the floor. As I cry, my lungs become more and more restricted. Soon, I can't breathe. I'm suffocating. Oh god, I'm suffocating in space! The Normandy is gone and everyone escaped and I'm left drifting in space and I can't breathe! I try to breathe in, but I can't. I'm going to die! No, I can't die! Not again!

"Hazel!" Kaidan shouts, shaking my shoulders. I open my eyes to see him staring back at me, worry etched into his face. Something in front of him is glowing blue, and the light from it is dancing along his face. What is that?

Kaidan gently takes my hand in his and kisses it. I watch him bring it to his lips carefully. A ring of blue surrounds my arm. I'm glowing. My biotics form a haze around me. If it had taken him much longer to get through to me, I probably would have flared them uncontrollably. As if he can read my mind, he gently pulls away and throws up a small but strong barrier around me. I release the energy. He waits a moment, to be sure it has dissipated, then drops the barrier and pulls me back into his arms.

"Hazel, do you know where you are?" he whispers.

"Normandy SR-2. It's 2186."

"Good." he says. He kisses my forehead softly.

We stay this way until long after I have stopped crying. Finally, he says "Almost getting blown up by the Quarian fleet wasn't easy."

I shake my head. "We were more likely to be spaced than blown up." My voice comes out barely above a whisper.

His breath hitches in his chest and he tenses slightly. "That's why you were covering the window." I nod. "Do you remember...?"

"Yes." He holds me just a little bit tighter when I say this.

"I'm so sorry." He says.

"Sometimes, in my dreams or if I let myself drift out of reality enough, I end up back there... Over Alchera. I can still feel..." I stop myself from completing that thought. I can't believe I'm telling him this. I need to be strong right now, for everyone. That includes Kaidan. I can't be falling apart like this. What was I thinking?

I pull away from him and stand up. "You know what, why don't we go have that tea?" He stares up at me inquiringly, but I brush his stare off and reach out for his hand. Finally, he takes it and I help him to his feet. I stop in the bathroom briefly to make sure I look fairly put together, then lead him out of my room and to the mess hall. I start making some jokes and soon we settle into a comfortable mood. We chat a little over our tea before we say goodnight and go out separate ways. Tonight, I sleep on the floor under my desk.

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

Two days later, I come back into my room after a long day to find a tarp securely attached to the ceiling and covering the window entirely. I ask EDI for the who, what, and how. She informs me that she granted Kaidan and Garrus access so that they could put it up while I was busy handling the Quarian-Geth situation. I can't help but smile as I crawl into bed. I sleep soundly for the first time since I died.

[savrenim]

hi hi hi. so I just got into the Hamilton fandom, I swear I am four years late where did everybody go, and, well. I am apparently a hamburr shipper. bcs that is my life now. anyway I saw your fic ifmlam and I swear it is my favourite of all the fics I've ever read (and trust me I've read literally thousands). I love it so so much, how do you write fics like that??? I cried about four times during the whole thing, I stayed up till 4am reading it even when I had to wake up at 7 because it is just. that. good. I could not stop thinking about it for days afterwards and ifmlam has just ruined me. I can't think of listen to Hamilton without thinking of ifmlam anymore.

on to my qursttion: is it abandoned? of course it's perfectly FINE if it is. don't let anyone tell u differently, your fic is YOURS and u are amazing.

but pls I really need closure from ur fic, it has been haunting me if its abandoned or ongoing and I've read ur other fics and they are just chefskiss and thank you so much for writing them all. thank you thank you thank you, I will never be able to thank you enough for writing this fic and for everything it's done for me. I am probably thousands of miles away but I am sending you virtual jugs through a co.puter screen right now.

(don't feel pressured to reply to this or update it flam, I know how overwhelming it can get with so many messages and after a while u get desensitized to it. u can literally reply "thx. itfmlam is abandoned" and I would still be amazingly star struck. anyway has gotten way too long and I need to sleep and I'm sorry u probably won't see this so I'm just talking to myself right now but bye!!)

and thank you so so much for writing itfmlam.

aaaah hello anon!

thank you so so much???? I am so??? honored??? that ifmlam rates so highly to you, and also that you've read my other fics??????

the answer to the "is ifmlam abandoned" question is probably the worst possible one, which is pretty much "I do want to finish it, both for the folks that still want closure as well as it bothers to me have abandoned projects that are in the public eye/ already partially published, but also, it is last on my current writing projects list"

my current actually active writing projects list, kind of in order of priority, is

I'm literally three chapters away from being Actually Fully Done with the not-quite-first-not-quite-second let's call it 1.5th draft of an actual?? full?? original?? novel?? Opus which of course then goes out to beta readers and then gets who-knows-how-much edited and then maybe beta readers again if a lot does change and then a copyeditor my mom, my copyeditor is my mom, and maybe my little brother he's one of the betas but is very good at catching typos and then I!!! get to publish it!!!! which is the single thing I am most excited for!!!!!!!!! this should be closed up in the next week or two, and then take a while for people to actually read the draft and get back to me.

I really desperately want to finish my open-but-like-90%-written fic, which means we raise it up, the final chapter of to the bottom of the river bc I realized that it was kind of incomplete, and the second chapter of a buried and a burning flame because any more work there will need to wait until the author publishes the next book in the series. this should be closed up in the next month or two.

Speedwrite the draft of the second book of the Opus series so that hopefully by the time book 1 edits are happening, I have an almost complete draft of the second book. this is mostly me side-eyeing myself about taking nearly four years to write the first book, but that is solidly in part because I had so many other open projects which point 2 is about clearing that docket. this should be done in the next year.

And then just have my major projects be, at least until books 1-5 are written and published, books 1-5 of that because that is arguably the first major 'plot arc' of the series, so if I'm looking for a pause point on writing, that's probably where to stop.

There are two or three other short side projects (a weird fun second person short story tentatively titled witch-queen, a collection of four short stories Memoirs about a not-so-evil necromancer and the shenanigans he gets up to trying to rule a kingdom, working title Perfectly Normal Recipe Blog which is a collaborative project about a perfectly normal recipe blog that definitely doesn't include anything out of the normal) that will happen when they happen

There are other projects that are on the backburner -- The Numanok Files, a series of probably 12-15 short novellas about a mercenary/ bounty hunter esque person in space whose specialty is dealing with hauntings, but, like, 80% of their jobs is actually "you are effectively a space home inspector pointing out faulty wiring reacting to solar flares/ there's a weird alien fungus/ it's carbon monoxide okay change your atmosphere filters" and 20% of it is punching ghosts; there's a post-post apocalypse novel that I want to write that I know characters and general pacing and half the setting but need to work out the other half and figure out how much aesthetic I want to commit to; there's Strangeside7 aka spacerace book that is my reaction to how much I love how Redline the anime movie commits itself to "no we are about a race, like 60% of the screentime is just fully going to be an utterly ridiculous sci fi space race"; there's even a ridiculous YA trilogy that I would have to completely transplant the setting but might end up writing because the interplay between angel-physics and physics-physics was one of my favorite things in the world. and I guess the weird ridiculous technically a sequel series to ifmlam that was going to be published as original books that was basically me having fun with 'okay I fucking love star wars prequels old rotting space bureaucracy galactic republic style' except with seers and that also still might happen because it does have some of the coolest sci fi concepts and honestly I thiiiink that's all?

but the tl;dr of that timeline is I'm trying to finish a punch of projects Right Now, so that I can write books 2-5 of Opus, and then when I'm done that (which honestly, my average fiction-writing output is close to 100k a year. if I'm concentrating purely on one project, and writing books that are about 100k, we are talking four years. although my job situation is super up in the air in that period and writing might get put solidly on the backburner as I try to make it in academia, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I will re-evaluate which projects go next, and that's when ifmlam is likely to come up for review.

I do not have any expectations that I will make it as an original author. I'm planning on posting all of my stuff online for free, but, like. it is incredibly difficult to convince people to try out even a piece of free and easily accessibly original work even if one has a huge following, I am a very small fanfiction author, and from what I can tell the majority of the people who are interested in my work are mostly interested in me finishing ifmlam. writing is a hobby for me, and while I'm writing mostly for me--and hence the for me bit at least for the next five years is pretty solidly going to be this series that I am deeply excited about and have sunk my heart and soul into every single aspect of--I'm human, and I don't really like shouting into the void, and I expect if I spend five years publishing to absolutely no response I will either stop writing for a while and do other things gods know my life is busy enough, return to fandom in general to write some other fanfic about whatever I get deeply into, or return to a work that I actually get response to. so ifmlam will probably start getting worked on a bit at that point one way or another. unless, of course, we are in the incredibly rare timeline in which I do make it as an original author, there are people who are deeply hyped for my original works and an actual demand for them, in which case as you may have noticed there are enough ideas there to keep me busy for a decade or two, and they will just get my full attention instead of fanfiction*. in this timeline, I will do what I was considering doing a few years ago, which is officially declare ifmlam otherwise abandoned and make one more giant chapter update which is a full and cleaned up outline of what I was going to write, interspersed with the scenes already written, and have ifmlam be given at least that closure.

*I want to make it clear that I very much love fanfiction and am proud to have been a fanfiction author and in my heart of hearts would keep writing it forever, I just also have a lot of ideas for characters and settings and magic systems and Aesthetics and I have been biting at the bit to write something that is //mine// and all mine and only mine for a while, I don't see original work as superior so much as there are a dozen fandoms that I am currently in and bursting to make content about except oops these fandoms currently only exist in my head, and I want to correct that

of course given how much as writing is my vent activity and I write what I'm in the mood for, there's a chance I'll feel ifmlam cravings before then, just... expect it to take a couple of years for an update, but also for there to be an update one way of another in a couple of years? but as for right now, I'm turning to original writing, because that is what brings me joy.

but I am really deeply honored that it brought you so much joy!!! and while I will never publish spoilers in a public place, if you message me off anon I am perfectly happy to give a run-down of my current plans for the ending, bc I know "wait a couple years and see" is not the most satisfactory of answers! and hey maybe you'll be like me and once you've given Opus a try you'll decide you like it better too, it does have Seers although they are deeply different Seers than in ifmlam but imo it's very gay and fun and at least politics on one side

[punkrock-writer]

Space Cowboy- part 5

Never Fight a Man With a Perm

Pairing- Din Djarin x F!OC 

Warnings- Swearing, Mentions Blood, Canon Typical Violence. The Gang from Chapter 6 are dicks. 

A/N- Howdy!! I’m so sorry this took so long to come out. I had a bad case of brain rot this past week and did not want to type, but it’s here and I hope ya’ll like it! I’m kind of nervous about this chapter because this was the situation that inspired the entire story, so please let me know what you think! 

I’m going to try to have the next chapter out quicker! Put who knows, I got worms in my brain! 

Masterlist AO3 

After almost taking another roll around the ship — thanks to Din's lack of a warning — Sedona was now aware of what hyperspace felt like. It was actually rather calm, quiet, and still. She wished she could see it, but she didn't really know if she should attempt to enter the cockpit. Instead, turning to face her bags, she figured it was a good time to get some real clothes on. The child cooed sadly when she set him down in the sleeping compartment, and though she hated to, she ignored him and knelt by her suitcase. Searching for something somewhat warm through the clothes that were packed for Florida was proving difficult. She settled on black leggings, an old grey Ron Jon Surf Shop hoodie, and a pair of soft crew socks. A sports bra and a fresh pair of underwear completed the 'look' and she gathered her things and headed to the shower room.

Not before quickly turning back and grabbing her deodorant, because, yuck.

With a deep breath, she decided it was finally time to look at herself.

Nothing was exciting or truly different to note about the person reflected back to her in the foggy mirror. It was the same girl, blue eyes, short brown hair, but now there was a brand new massive bruise on her left temple. Her dark circles were deeper, and her eyes were tired. But other than the wound there was nothing new. She discarded her pajamas, and slipped into the clean clothes, she never thought it would feel this good to be fully covered. Her arms all the way to her toes now concealed in comfortable fabric, and she was grateful. She quickly put her hair into a folded bun, and set to her second task, putting that extra bacta patch on her head.

Peli made it look much easier. Whatever it was, was slimy and hard to get a grip on, but once it was placed, it stuck. So now she had a slightly lopsided, oversized band-aid on her head. And she knew it was going to hurt like a bitch to yank out of her hair. Taking one last look in the mirror, she sighed.

Honestly, she looked like she was about to go take a plane trip back home, and it tugged her heart a little bit.

Shaking her head she picked her things back up and opened the door to exit into the hull. A shiny helmet of beskar startled her, he must've just jumped down from the cockpit, as he was facing her through the ladder. She tried not to think too much about the way he stared for a bit too long, most likely just assessing her change in appearance. Before she could say anything he turned sharply, stepping over to where the child pouted in the sleeping compartment. She scooted by them, heading to put her things back in her bag. And when she straightened up to see what he was doing, he was already halfway up the ladder, taking the child with him.

Sedona tried not to dwell on it too much, it's not like he knew her, he barely even trusted her. He didn't owe her any more kindness than he was already giving her. But it really didn't help when she felt like she knew him. She needed to get that idea out of her head, she didn't know jack shit about what went through his head. Seeing someone on screen is so much different than actually being around them, and Sedona had to make sure she didn't get too comfortable too fast— she couldn't afford any slip-ups. So for now she would take it slow, tiptoe around the Crest, and do what she needed to do when called.

In pursuit of being quiet, she decided now might be a good time to check her phone. She settled herself in the sleeping compartment, purse in her lap, and plucked it from the bag. The time read 10:34 am, and obviously, there was no way of telling if that was right. Her calendar read two days since she had been ripped from her hotel room, and she was pretty sure that would be reliable. As long as she had some way of knowing how long she'd been here, she could keep herself grounded.

It didn't even cross her mind that she should try to find some way to get back home.

Sedona dozed off after a while, curled around her purse in the sleeping compartment. Her circadian rhythm was thrown off, or maybe it was like some kind of space-sickness. She was just tired, and she didn't know what else to do. The plot was getting scrambled in her head, and until Din jogged her mind in some way, she wasn't going to risk getting a headache thinking about it.

So she slept, the soft hum of hyperspace lulling her into relaxation, no matter how uncomfortable the bed was.

~o~o~o~

That was how Din found her a few hours later. Curled like a lothcat around one of her smaller bags. The child gurgled in happiness at the sight of her— he was the reason they were down there, wailing incessantly at the ladder. He didn't understand why he liked her so much, but if he trusted anyone, it was the child. So he set him down next to her knees, a position they had just recently been in. The child began climbing up her legs, and Din could only look on in amusement as she grumbled something incoherent.

The toddler reached his intended destination, her shoulder, and began to tap his tiny hands on her cheek. Din couldn't stop a small smile from breaking his features, thankful for the helmet once again. Her eyes popped open, panic clear on her features as she turned to look at what was tapping her face, and a smile overtook her.

"Hey little guy, how'd you get up there." Din pretended not to notice the roughness of her voice or the sleepy smile that turned to face him. "Oh I see now, you had an accomplice."

She slowly sat up, taking care to hold the child steady. She folded her legs in front of her, setting him in her lap. The child smiled up at him, and before he could stop himself, a gloved hand reached out and stroked his ear. Din wasn't used to showing affection in front of others, especially people he didn't fully trust. But the atmosphere was so relaxed, and it seems his body reacted before his mind could stop it.

"Did we stop somewhere?" Her quiet voice broke him out of his trance, his head snapped back up to meet hers. She looked worried, her eyes searched the helmet, and her teeth caught her bottom lip. Din told himself he was just observing a possible threat, analyzing her tells.

Subconsciously, that was a different story.

"No," he paused to clear his throat when it came out in a whisper. "I've picked up a job, I'm changing our course, and we'll be there in an hour... I just—" well Din didn't really know why exactly he felt the need to warn her. "I just wanted to know if you had... anything to tell me." Right, just trying to get information. Her eyes seemed to light up in recognition, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Who- or what is the job exactly." She looked confused still, her eyes zoned in on something in the distance, deep in thought.

"It's with an old... acquaintance of mine." His voice was rougher than he intended, still not really enjoying the idea of the job. But by the way her eyes darkened, he knew it was probably going to be a big mistake.

~o~o~o~

Sedona's mind instantly hooked onto the information and dragged it from the depths of the scramble. This situation, she knew well. This episode, she had watched, many times. For the plot... not for the way the red lights danced off beskar or the amazingly hot fight scenes.

No for the plot.

She knew what she needed to do.

"They betray you, they're going to try and shove you in a cell and leave you there... and a droid tries to shoot the baby— and they're all massive dicks, every one of them." Okay. That sounded crazy, she didn't mean for everything to tumble out like that. According to the way Din suddenly stood straight and alert, she probably didn't say the right things. "Wait... but you get out of it, no one gets hurt— except for the assholes— but they deserved it a-and you get money."

He just stood there, still as a rock. She couldn't imagine how all of that sounded to him. He probably didn't even know what the mission was supposed to be, and she had already informed him it was doomed from the start.

Yeah, I gotta work on the info delivery.

He let out a long sigh. His fingers twitched at his side, he probably would've rubbed his forehead in frustration if he could. She could feel herself shrinking in the silence, she unconsciously held onto the baby in her lap a little tighter. He cooed at her, seemingly sensing her anxiety. His little 3 clawed hands tapped at hers that held his waist.

"Well... like I said, an hour." He then turned and quickly made his way to the ladder. Climbing into the cockpit in almost record time. Sedona let a long sigh escape her, bringing one hand up to rub her eyes. She wasn't tired anymore, anxiety had squandered that quickly.

She had to either, A. Figure out some way to keep Din from being tricked and captured. Or B. Make sure Grogu doesn't alert the droid of his presence. For some reason, the situation felt wrong. She knew this mission was on course to go sour, but there was a bad feeling whispering at the edges of her mind.

Everything was feeling super, extra, bad and it was making her stomach hurt.

Or maybe she was just fucking starving.

Sedona realized she had never eaten the 'bar' Peli had given her. And an all-liquid diet the day before probably wasn't helping her whole, situation. Moving the child from her lap, she placed her feet on the ground. Thankful for her socks as the cold of the metal seeped through the fabric. She walked over to her suitcase— not really remembering where she had put the food— the entire evening leading up to her fight with Toro was a blur. When she didn't find it in her purse, she searched through her suitcase. Her hands touched the foil wrapping, and suddenly there was another presence at her side.

The little green gremlin was a bloodhound for food, it was like he read her mind and teleported to her. Letting out an excited squeal when she brought the bar into view, Sedona couldn't help but laugh with him. Sitting cross-legged in front of her suitcase she invited him to sit with her. And with more adorable grunts and snorts he sat down in between her legs, eyes never leaving the bar.

"Okay we can share, but don't tell your dad" she whispered, he made a soft coo in response. The bar looked like someone had put a granola bar through a grinder, and then reformed it back into a bar. Not exactly the most appetizing thing, but food was food, and the little guy seemed excited. She broke off a small piece— yes she had witnessed the child swallow a frog whole— but he was so little in front of her, so she went by baby rules and gave him something small. He grabbed it in his little hands, and then she broke off a piece for herself.

It was dry, and tasted kind of like a protein bar, but not at all like a protein bar. It was just different, but with the way the child inhaled it, she knew it was probably worth eating. They carried on like this till it was gone, Grogu munching happily, not minding the crumbs that fell into his lap. She was able to choke it down with the assistance of the water bottle that still sat in her purse. But eating didn't seem to help the way her stomach twisted in worry. When she wasn't distracting herself by watching the child, her mind wandered dangerously.

She couldn't tell if the walls her mind had put up the moment she dropped on the Crest were finally crumbling. Or if something was actually wrong. Her head was starting to hurt again, and now with a stomach ache, she felt like she was starting to break down. She needed another distraction.

Crumbling up the wrapper she turned to her suitcase. The child babbled a little, probably wondering if she had more food. Instead, she was just looking for anything; she moved through everything in the bag, toiletries, bras, a journal. And then she felt something solid. Her boots! She had honestly figured she didn't have any shoes here. Those had been the first thing to come out of her suitcase when she got to her hotel. But now, pulling her work boots from the depths, it was the first time she had actually been excited to see them. They were beat up hiking boots, with the perfect amount of ankle support and non-slip bottom to make it in space.

"Well, are you gonna let me put these on or what?" She said to the child in her lap, he tilted his head with a coo. She slowly started to straighten her legs, he made a squeal and then started to wiggle away from her. She laughed, helping him get off her lap and setting him to the side. He grunted, loudly, instantly very mad at her. She chuckled again, trying not to notice the way her hands shook as she began to lace up her boots.

Grogu toddled over to the ladder, reaching his arms up toward the cockpit. She couldn't help the smile, she finished tying her boots, standing, and headed over to the child. He was hanging from the 3rd rung of the ladder, obviously getting his speed from his father, she was able to catch him just as his 3 fingers slid off the metal. She rose and looked up with anticipation, obviously he wanted to go up there, and that meant she would have to... talk to Din.

She swallowed, but the baby in her arms let out an impatient squeal, reaching his arms up. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Um... D-Mando" she called, catching herself on the name quickly. "G-The kid wants to come up, i-is it alright if I bring him up." She hated the way she was stumbling through this, it shouldn't be that difficult to ask, but she almost shaking in fear at the prospect of being dropped off on the next planet. Her subconscious was telling her the Din she knew wouldn't do that, but this wasn't the Din she 'knew', this was a stranger. God, why did this have to be so complicated?

There was a long daunting pause. "Just don't touch anything." She let out a sigh of relief, and quickly attempted the climb to the cockpit. Proving to be much trickier with one hand. Her head breached the hole, and in front of her was something amazing. The cockpit of the Razor Crest lit up with the blue streaks of hyperspace. She stopped, awestruck at all of the buttons and levers, all of the details laid out before her. She didn't even notice the child wiggling out of her grasp.

It was beautiful, but also so terrifying. She watched the expanse of space whiz by, something her mind could've never been able to comprehend. And as she stared, she didn't notice when the pilot's chair slowly turned.

"You can come inside." She jumped at his voice, eyes meeting the helmet she didn't know was facing her. She quickly shut her mouth, just now realizing Grogu had made his way to Din's lap. Slowly, she finished the climb up the ladder and found herself at the door to the cockpit. Tentatively she stepped inside, eyes still wide in wonder, and made her way to the chair behind Din's left shoulder. He turned back to the controls, or more back to making sure the child didn't touch anything. She sat down slowly, still not entirely certain this was all real.

Swirling blue was constantly moving above and before her, it was mesmerizing, she felt herself getting lost in it. She could probably look at it for the rest of her life. It was the perfect distraction. Or until someone broke her from her daze, but she didn't expect that to happen anytime soon. Instead, she sat quietly, trying to take up as little space in the room as she could. Her thoughts were pushed to the back of her mind, she was allowed this brief moment of peace.

Sedona had held it together surprisingly well, though it was more likely she was in shock. Numb is what she would call it, seeing everything moving around her, but she didn't really feel it. A mild form of disassociation is probably what a therapist would tell her, her body was in survival mode while her brain just followed, screaming from the shadows. But at this current moment, her mind was quiet, the rolling blue was enough.

Comfortable silence, the baby sleeping, his snores being the only thing breaking through the hum of hyperspace. The pair sat quietly for what seemed to be a long time. It was the first moments of calm both had experienced at the same time, hopefully, it wouldn't be the last. In the past, the silence would have irked her, gnawed at her stomach. She probably would've started a conversation with anyone in the room. But now, it felt okay, her mind felt at ease for the first time since she'd got here. She ignored the voice that whispered, maybe it's him.

A sudden beeping broke through the serene atmosphere, Sedona jumped, while Din only moved his helmet. His hands reached out to flick some switches and punch some buttons.

She secretly wished she might be able to figure out what it all meant, but she wasn't going to get her hopes up.

"We're dropping out of hyperspace, hold on." It was an off-hand comment she realized because she didn't even have time to straighten in her spine when the ship seemed to lurch forward. Her hands flew to her sides, gripping the seat quickly. With the sudden movement, all of her anxieties flew into her throat. And as another giant space ship came into view, another emotion came forward.

Rage.

"Oh, those fuckers." The words were growled out before she even knew her mouth was open. Her eyes widening in surprise as a T-shaped visor snapped to face her. She could only shrug in response, it was the truth. Deep down, she was glad to know her shock-induced state hadn't taken everything from her, she could still talk some smack.

That was going to cause problems.

"You're staying on the ship, with the child." He had turned back to the controls, grasping the handles with gloved hands. The child in question had just woken up, cooing curiously at the scene change. "Make sure he doesn't cause any trouble, or whatever you said happens." She heard him and understood. But she was focused on trying to figure out how the hell she was going to hold her tongue when she knew what was about to happen. Din seemed to notice her unease, his helmet shifted slightly toward her, most likely confused by the white-knuckle grip she still had on the seat.

"You're going to have to gag me." The realization came suddenly, it was the only way, she did not trust herself to keep quiet. Din fully spun to face her now, even without seeing his face she could tell he was surprised and mad. She aimed for his eyes beneath the black visor, "It's the only way to shut me up." He let out a long sigh, that ended more in a frustrated growl.

"Are you serious?" His voice was sharp, serious disbelief. She nodded, it was ridiculous she knew, but with all the choice words swirling in her head, and the way she didn't have full control of herself, it really was the only way. With another growl-sigh he leaned down, ripping off a strip of material from his cape, and handed it to her, then he more or less shoved the child in her lap. "Just go— take him to the sleeping compartment, and... do it yourself."

She stood and left quickly, not wanting to anger him further. She staggered her way down the ladder, Grogu laughing at her struggles. She was panicking, her eyes darted over everything quickly, setting the child in the compartment she went over to her things. She zipped her suitcase closed, then hooked the handle to one of the nets that hung on the wall, hoping that would keep it out of way. Then with her purse, she made her way over to Grogu and climbed in after him. He babbled excitedly, not picking up on the frazzled emotions that were rolling off her in waves.

"We are going to have a totally chill time in here." She said to the child, though it was also mostly to herself. She adjusted till her back was against the wall, and allowed Grogu to clamber onto her lap. "It's gonna be totally cool and nothing bad is going to happen, alright?" Her voice had risen multiple octaves, and it seemed the gremlin had finally caught on to her panic. He tilted his head at her, making a much smaller, almost sadder sound. She instantly felt bad; making shushing noises, she rubbed his little back as he pouted up at her. The ship started to wobble, Din was maneuvering it into the bigger space ship, she held onto the little creature. And with a big thump, they were stopped.

Sedona let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Grogu's ears seemed to perk up at that, he settled down onto her lap. Listening carefully to the noises above her, she could hear Din moving around before steps began to descend on the ladder. He paused in front of the compartment, carefully observing the situation. Sedona could only stare back, doing her best not to let him know how scared she was, but he probably had a fear sensor on his helmet. Before he could turn away her voice betrayed her again.

"Di-Mando... could I have a weapon." It was a whisper, she was doing the best she could to hold herself together. But this was becoming more and more real by the second. He stared at her for much longer than she wanted, even Grogu made a small whine at the atmosphere. Then his hand moved to his wrist, tapping something, and a compartment opened adjacent to the one she was in. She peaked around the corner, eyes widening at all of the weapons laid out. And she almost laughed at the sight of her pink taser, placed there among all of the space gadgets. He grabbed that, setting it in front of her.

Without a word, he turned, fingers working at his wrist again. Almost simultaneously, the weapons doors and the door to her compartment shut. While the side ship door opened. She and Grogu were alone in the dimly lit compartment. He turned to look at her, head tilting in confusion. And she could only shrug in response.

There was silence on the ship for what felt like hours. Sedona and Grogu sat quietly, only the child breaking the silence with his babbles. She would shush him quickly; not really knowing when the crew would be joining the ship, and she didn't want their cover blown sooner than it needed to be. When his fussing became a bit more persistent, she gave him her keys that were still tucked in her purse. His big eyes widened further, entranced by the shiny metal and jingles.

Because how else do you calm a baby you don't know what to do with, you give it your keys. Fuck.

A heavy sigh passed through her as she leaned her head back against the wall. She's trying desperately to keep her emotions under control, obviously, Grogu could sense them, so if she was calm, he was calm. And that was most important right now. Her mind was constantly on edge, just waiting for something to happen. She didn't want to tie her mouth yet, fearing it would startle the child. Instead, she chewed on her lip, distracted by the soft tinkling of her keys.

The wait was soon over.

Metallic footsteps were making their way up the ramp. Thinking fast she tied the strip of fabric around her mouth, then held the child close. He cooed, moving his head up to face her before his ears flicked up in surprise. She tried to give him a smile.

It definitely looked absolutely horrifying.

His little features contorted into a frown, and a whimper was heard before the footsteps on the ship drew closer. They both snapped their heads to stare at the unmoving compartment door. Ears perked, listening closely as she heard someone ascend to the cockpit. There were noises outside of the ship, people were gathering, she felt her heart rate increase sharply. She squeezed them further into the corner of the compartment. The mattress creaked so loudly in the silence, but thankfully the noises coming from above them seemed to drown it out.

Her brain had ceased its flow of information. She wasn't sure who entered the ship first, it could be Din for all she knew. But she knew there were about to be a lot more people, and then shit was going to go down. Her mouth had gone dry thanks to the fabric, and the child had started to whine. She tried to shush him, but it came out more in weird hissing sounds. His eyes bugged out as he looked at her in fear, pushing his arms against her chest. She moved to set him down behind her, pretending her heart didn't break at the sight. She maneuvered herself more to the front of the compartment, leaving the keys behind for him.

She almost didn't notice the grumbling that followed the metallic clink of someone leaving the ship. The person was complaining, aggressively, but the voice was definitely not human.

Of course. That shitty droid.

The one emotion that had been hardest to keep at bay was rising up again. It coiled in her throat, sharpening her tongue with nasty thoughts. She hated this group, and all the shit they say to Din and the violent betrayal. She didn't know how she was going to be able to handle it if it happens right in front of her— the fabric in her mouth was going to be her saving grace. She really did not want to risk making this even worse for Din than it already would be.

And sure, she knows they get their due karma in the end. But the nagging pit in her stomach, the feeling of wrong, was eating her alive. She reached for the taser that sat at the front of the compartment and maneuvered her back to Grogu. If that compartment opens, she was going to fight like hell.

And that's how she waited.

And waited.

Back turned to the child as he jangled her keys around. She waited as voices crept closer to the Crest. As someone made their way up the ramp, then another. Until something was set down with a heavy thump, and a murmur of voices filled the hull. No one was really saying anything of importance, just fighting about who got to sit where. Sedona turned her head back to the child, who was now also listening attentively. His ears perked, owlish eyes met hers, the keys now forgotten in his little hands. He made a small 'ooo' sound and pointed to the compartment door, and she shrugged, holding her finger up to her mouth in a shushing motion.

Then there was the sound of the hatch closing, her head snapped back to the door. Trying to picture the scene behind the metal. She heard someone climbing the ladder, and then there was more grumbling. It wasn't long after, the ship began to move, she braced her hands behind her back as the compartment rocked. She looked back at the child, who was now back to jangling the keys around, she tried not to cringe at the sound, hoping they couldn't hear it.

She couldn't help thinking how insane this was. She was sitting in a space ship with a little green alien, gagged, and listening to other aliens argue. Her breath had started to quicken, and she could feel her pulse thumping in her neck.

This is so fucked up. What the hell am I even doing here. I'm going crazy-

Her spiraling thoughts were cut off when she felt a small hand on her back. She turned, blinking away a tear that had formed in her eye. Grogu made a tiny coo, his eyes wide. She instantly felt bad, he could sense her distress and it was making him feel bad. But she almost let out a sob when the little creature leaned forward, setting both his arms on her back in a tiny hug. A strangled noise tore through her throat, lifting one of her hands to pat his wrinkled little head. He made a snorting noise, one of the cutest things in the world, before plopping down and playing with the keys again. The interaction so small, but it had immediately calmed her down.

God, I can see why everyone loves this little shit.

She felt the atmosphere speed up, and the telltale feeling of hyperspace overtook the ship. A sound she recognized made her snap her head back to the door. The weapons hold adjacent to the sleeping compartment was open. She hadn't even heard their earlier conversations, too entranced by the little guy. She couldn't remember who had opened the door, but from the grumbling, it sounded like the one she hated most. Everything was happening much faster, but it felt as if time had slowed. She distantly registered the thump of someone jumping down the ladder, then the doors closing, and someone immediately hitting them.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay. Okay. Okay, I get it. I'm a little particular about my personal space too." That voice, God she knew that voice. Her blood boiled as she listened further. "So let's just do this job. We get in, we get out, and you don't have to see our faces anymore."

How ironic, she almost rolled her eyes.

"Someone tell me why we even need a Mandalorian." The voice was much closer than she wanted it to be.

"Well, apparently they're the greatest warriors in the galaxy." There was a pause, Sedona gritted her teeth around the cloth. "So they say"

"Then why are they all dead"

And there was laughter. She heard a sharp giggle, the kind that makes your lip curl. And she felt herself shaking— she wanted to say something so fucking bad. She didn't know how Din could just take all of this.

"Well, you flew with him, Xi'an— Is he as good as they say?"

"Ask him about the job on Alzoc 111." Their voices grated her ears. Subconsciously she really did want to know what happened on Alzoc 111"

"I did what I had to." But this voice, with his calculated roughness, broke her heart. She didn't know how much more she could take before words started leaving her mouth. She heard a female voice, and her hands curled into fists behind her. She could hear what they were saying, but it wasn't fully registering anymore. Her ears rung with rage, the feeling of the child still leaning against her back was the only thing keeping her from ripping off the gag and screaming.  

Her eyes narrowed at the continued jeering and insults. She tried to blink away the tears of anger that burned her eyes. Pressing all of her weight into her arms, her muscles tense. Ready for what was coming next.

The ringing in her ears didn't stop, even as a fistfight took place outside her door.

Only when she was suddenly faced by the people she did not want to see, did everything come crashing back to the surface.

The trio looked at her in shock, Din out of her view. She sees Mayfield's mouth moving as he walks closer to her, but she only picked up the last of his sentence.

"— you get lonely up here buddy? Huh." He stepped up to the compartment, Xi'an sauntered after him. Sedona tried not to focus on the way the other woman's gaze twisted into disgust. She turned her head to meet all 3 of their eyes, Burg looking even more devil-like up close.

"Why do you have your bed warmer tied up like that huh?" Din didn't answer Mayfield, she couldn't even see him, but with the way Burg had his arm locked out of view, he was probably being held back. "Is that how he kept you, huh, Xi'an? Is that how he likes 'em?" The woman in question hissed in response, and she settled herself against the door. Knife still held loosely in her hand.

"Didn't take you for the type." She snarled at Din, her eyes predatory as they shifted away from Sedona. "Maybe that code of yours has made you soft."

And suddenly there was another voice. Though not really a voice, instead it's sounded like an angry cat in the other room. Muffled, and full of rage.

It wasn't till she noticed the others were just staring at her in silence, that she realized it was her. She was snarling like a rabid dog, her mouth has developed a mind of its own. Thankfully all the words were swallowed by the cloth.

"Well let's see what she has to say," Xi'an said with a sickening smile, sharpened yellow teeth on full display. The next actions happened so quickly, Sedona honestly didn't realize what transpired. There was a flash of metal, as Xi'an's hand darted out like a snake. A searing pain appeared on her left cheek, and the cloth holding her words in fell away. She felt herself gasp, her hand instantly flying up to cradle her cheek. And then there was laughing, the trio laughed at her pain, and it only made her angrier.

"I said," She placed her hand, now sticky with blood, behind her back. Bracing herself. "I've got a penchant for smokes and kicking douches in the mouth. Sadly for you, my last cigarette's gone out."

And with that statement, her right foot flew out. Connecting with Burg's jaw, a sickening crack rang through the hull.

Then there was chaos.

The Devaronian stumbled back, his own hand coming up to clutch his jaw with a growl. Mayfield and Xi'an jumped for their weapons. But before anyone else could cross the threshold of the sleeping compartment, there was a blaster shot— and the metal door collapsed shut. Din had shot the control panel to the door, no one could get in, or get out without the use of his fancy wrist control. There was aggressive banging on the door, Sedona feared it might dent. She could hear swearing and shouting from the other side, but she wasn't done. She sat up on her knees, slamming her hands against the metal a few times. If Din wasn't going to say it, she would.

"Fuck you Xi'an! I wanted to be your friend so bad!" She could hear an aggressive snarl over the other commotion. Burg roared, and then there was a particularly loud thump against the door.

"Fuck you, Burg! Your breath fucking reeks!" Her voice had a heavy growl in it, all of the rage she could muster put behind her words.

"And fuck you, Mayfield! Prison is going to make you it's bitch!" Her voice had risen to a scream to counteract the noise. And with a few more slaps against the metal, she sat back down. Her hand coming up to the cut on her cheek. Xi'an's blades were so sharp, they cut deep and thin. A perfect slice, that was going to leave a nasty scar. It was then she realized the other creature in the room.

Grogu let out soft whimpers at the commotion, he was trying to hide behind her purse. Her stomach dropped at the sight, instantly letting out a soft coo of her own, she reached her hand out to him, trying to let him know it would be okay. But another voice broke through the pandemonium.

"Dropping out of hyperspace now." She scooped up Grogu, and he let out a small cry of protest. But she knew what was coming next. The ship lurched foreword suddenly. "Commencing final approach now."

"Cloaking signal now" Grogu let out a scream as they were suddenly airborne. Sedona's head crashed against the ceiling of the compartment with a thump. They slammed back down, the wind getting knocked out of her lungs. Trying to catch her breath she glanced down at the child, who was relatively fine. Just panicking by the way his massive eyes stared up at her. The ship stopped with a heavy crash, and she heard the droid speaking again. But she was far more distracted by the little green hand straining to reach her cheek.

"I'll be okay buddy" she whispered, bringing her hand up to gently grab his. He frowned, babbling urgently at her. She gave him as much of a smile she could muster, hoping he accepted it. "You don't have to heal me, I'm all right." Truthfully, she wasn't really all right. Her cheek was burning, and from what she could feel, the cut ran from just under her jaw bone, all the way up to her cheekbone. A neat slice, that was still steadily leaking blood. She set Grogu to the side and reached for her purse, fishing out the travel pack of tissues, and holding one to the cut. It wasn't stitches or magical healing space goo, but she hoped it would at least stop her from bleeding all over Din's bed. A loud smack interrupted their tentative peace. Mayfield's voice followed.

"Don't think we forgot about you girl, we'll be back for you!" There was laughing, and for the first time since the door had opened, the wrongness flooded back to her stomach. She focused on taking deep even breaths, for the sake of the child who whimpered beside her. She heard a fast beeping, and then someone jumping from the ship. They were leaving, and her heart only seemed to race faster. She waited till she heard the particularly loud thump of Burg.

"Din," she cleared her throat, voice coming out raw. "Don't let them capture you." She wasn't sure if she was just talking to an empty hull, or if the Mandalorian could even hear her raspy voice. 

She just hoped desperately if he had, he would listen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist- 

I’ve never done this before! But please message me if you’d like to be tagged, and I’ll try to figure it out along the way! 

@thekingofthegoats @cosmicbreathe @daddydjarinxx @gallowsjoker 

[css1992]

Do you take prompts? Cause I'm dying to read some good Mob boss Tony who's badass with everyone else and melts down for his baby Peter! :) Thank you anyways 😊

Hello there! I’m not sure I’m gonna take prompts yet, because I’m a really slow writer and would probably get overwhelmed way too quickly, but I do love myself some Mob Boss!Tony, I just needed an excuse to write it, haha.

@roleplayangelprincess, I really do hope you like this! Thank you for reaching out. XO

Mob Boss!Tony x Precious!Peter

Word count: 5k+

Warnings: explicit, nff, 18+, mentions of blood, violence, torture and child abuse (nothing explicit), no violence between main pairing. Mafia AU. If you spot anything else that might be triggering to anyone, please let me know!

-*-

Tony’s world had always smelt of gunpowder, blood and tears, for as long as he could remember. The only lullabies he knew were the sounds of shots being fired, screams of horror and desperate begging. Howard used to say it was important that he was raised in the middle of all that, he believed it would make him a tougher man, a firmer leader. He wanted Tony to experience all those situations he usually found himself in, because one day it would all be his – his whole empire, all of New York City’s underworld would be in the palm of his hands, and the scum of the earth that lived in it would be able to smell fear, weakness and softness from three thousand miles away.

So Tony never knew softness, kindness or gentleness. He was raised on blood, tears and gunpowder, to the sounds of screams, gunshots and begging. He was groomed to be a leader as heartless and cold as Howard, to be able to pull the trigger without hesitating. Cold and calculated. He was eight when he killed for the first time, just old enough to support the weight of the gun with both hands and handle its kickback.

The man had begged and cried, looking into his eyes, and Tony didn’t feel anything, he had heard those sounds so many times by then, it did nothing to him. Howard said “do it” and he did. He pulled the trigger. The man’s blood spattered his face and arms and shirt and it was weirdly warm, like teardrops on his skin. He stood there, mesmerized for a few seconds, before Maria told him to go clean up and get ready for supper.

That episode was his life in a nutshell, the smells, the sounds, the darkness, his mother’s reaction, his father’s nod of approval. He grew used to it all, he embraced it, he craved it, and he didn’t know anything else.

Until Peter.

Peter was a ray of fucking sunshine on Tony’s cloudy, dark days, and he hated it at first. He hated that he made his world brighter, he hated that Peter made him want to bend to his every wish, hated that he made him want to protect him from the world, hated that he made him feel so fucking vulnerable, and weak, and exposed, but he loved him. He fucking loved him so much. He had no idea when it started,  but it felt like from day one, he never had a choice.

Tony had just left one of his clubs in a terrible mood, one of his most profitable deals had fallen though due to his employees’ incompetence and he had had to kill people – six, to be precise –  it was a bloodbath, there was running and screaming and just nonsense in general, as he sat there and rolled his eyes at the failed escape attempts. To top it all off, there was blood on his favorite suit. It was a three-piece, Italian cut suit and it would go to waste thanks to those idiots running around like fools. All in all, a bad day.

“Excuse me, sir! Excuse me!” And then, sunshine. That chirpy, high-pitched voice coming from behind him was slightly annoying, and if he had been just a little more pissed he would have turned and shot him on the spot, no questions asked, but as it was, he’d maybe just tell him to fuck off.

When he turned around, though, there was a young man looking back at him, clearly scared now. Tony noticed that Rogers and Barnes had their guns pointed at him, as he raised his shaky, thin arms in surrender, a black, Italian leather wallet in his hand. “Y-you, y-you dr-drop...” He couldn’t even speak, so Tony took that time to look him over. He looked young, probably in his late teens or early twenties, he was thin and short and he had a very pretty face for a boy. He wore baggy jeans and an oversized NYU hoodie, so Tony guessed he was a student. In short, a very delicious meal for such a shitty night.

“Rogers, my wallet,” Tony cut the boy off, gesturing for Steve to get his wallet from him. He almost passed out when the blonde man approached him, still holding the gun to his face.

“I don’t mean any trouble, sir, I’m so sorry, I just found the wallet on the ground, I-I swear,” He whimpered pitifully and the sound made Tony’s cock twitch. He raised an eyebrow at himself.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking around to maybe try to figure out where the boy had come from. They were in a deserted area, somewhere between Queens and Brooklyn, near one of his clubs and a few of his warehouses, there was nothing around there that would justify Peter’s presence, unless he had ulterior motives and the college student get-up was just a ruse.

“W-walking home from work, sir. I-I didn’t have any money left f-for the subway,” He stuttered, hands still up, he was shaking all over now, and it usually didn’t bother Tony, but he was such a pretty thing, the older man didn’t like to see those squirming for the wrong reasons, he had other uses for them. If the boy was harmless, that terrible night could still be saved.

“What’s your name, boy?” That was all Natasha needed to run a background check on him and, in that moment, he found out the name of what would come to be his greatest weakness. Peter Parker. He looked at Barnes and he nodded quietly, sending a message to Natasha to run a quick check. As soon as it came back clear, he opened a big, shark-like smile at the still trembling boy. “Well, it appears we got off on the wrong foot, sweetheart.”

In retrospect, Tony wouldn’t be able to tell what possessed him that night, what made him think that it would be a good idea to lure him into his car and offer him a ride home. He knew that the boy did things to him, he was gorgeous and innocent-looking, a personal favorite, but Tony didn’t often act on impulse. Even his one-night-stands were carefully chosen and vetted, he couldn’t afford to take any risks; but that night, for the first time – the first of many –, he made an exception for Peter Parker. He didn’t know what made the younger man come with him, either, specially after being held at gunpoint by Rogers and Barnes, but he came, probably possessed by the same entity that clouded Tony’s judgment.

The mob boss made up a story about being the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and told him that Rogers and Barnes were his bodyguards. He wasn’t too far off from the truth, he did run a multi-billion dollar business and Barnes and Rogers were the only two people in the world he trusted with his life. He told the naive boy that he couldn’t tell him the company’s name for safety reasons, and he ate it all up like a good boy, got in the car with Tony and was easily charmed by his words.

What the older man didn’t count on, though, was that he was really charming, too, in his own way. He was smart and sharp, slightly sarcastic and sassy, and really, really sweet. The older man couldn’t quite understand why it attracted him so much when he took the boy back to his place, but it did, and when he had him sprawled on his one-thousand thread count Egyptian sheets, mouth slack and begging for more, he thought it was merely lust.

Only it didn’t go away after that first night, but Tony thought he just had to fuck him out of his system, which seemed easy enough. He invited Peter to dinner – unfortunately, he had to keep up the facade of being a nice gentleman if he wanted to have him again – and the boy was so fucking happy to hear from him when he picked up the phone. Tony could swear his room got brighter when his voice filled up the empty space.

He was just as charming and even more sassy the second time they met, a little less shy, a little bolder now that Tony knew what he looked like naked and stuffed full of his cock. He took him back home again. And again. And again. By the fifth time they got together, Tony realized – with the utmost horror – that he was beginning to care about the boy. He longed to see him, he wanted to know about his days; he was amused by his antics, he remembered the names of his friends from school, and the professors he liked and disliked. He wanted to hurt the people who made him sad for whatever reason, he was worried about his eating habits, he wanted to make all his money problems disappear. He cared about him.

So, logically, he had to kill him.

There was just no other way, Tony Stark couldn’t afford to care about anybody, it was too big of a weakness, it was gonna be his downfall and he couldn’t have it. So by the sixth night, he did what he had to do. He unwrapped the thin, pale arms from his chest, untucked the sweet-smelling head from under his chin, and got out of bed. He took his gun from the nightstand drawer and pointed it at Peter’s head.

He’d make it painless, the boy wouldn’t have to suffer, he’d die peacefully in his sleep. Tony would have to buy another bed, but other than that, it wouldn’t be much of a clean-up, the way the boy was lying almost in the center of the bed, there wouldn’t even be blood on the floor. Besides, he didn’t have any family left, he only had a couple of friends at school and two more who were away for college, so not many people to look for him. They’d think he’d moved away or something.

Tony stared at him over the barrel of his gun. As soon as he had stepped out of the bed, Peter reached for his pillow and clutched it like a doll, dreaming away, with an almost unnoticeable smile on his lips, completely unaware that he was sharing a bed with the most dangerous criminal in New York, possibly in the whole country. So innocent, and naive, and beautiful.

He was so tiny, so out of place in his cold, dark world. Peter didn’t smell like blood or gunpowder, he smelled like something sweet and edible, he never screamed or cried, he always had a bright smile for him and the most delectable laugh.

Tony faltered. No matter how hard he tried to will his finger to pull the trigger, he couldn’t do it, he just couldn’t fucking do it. He squeezed his eyes shut and lowered the gun, cursing under his breath, unable to believe he couldn’t do such a simple thing. Eight-years-old Tony hadn’t fucking blinked when Howard told him to do it. Why couldn’t he fucking do it?

“Tony? Is everything okay?” When he opened his eyes again, Peter was sitting up, and he looked worried. Tony noticed his eyes were fixed on the gun in his hand. “What’s going on?” He whispered, looking around the room, as if there was a threat out there, little did he know he was face to face with the devil himself.

“Nothing, sweetheart, I just thought I heard something. I checked, it’s nothing, go back to sleep.” He put the gun back in the drawer and the boy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Oh, good. Come back to bed, then.” He reached out his arms to Tony, so open and trusting, sitting on his big bed, swallowed by all those expensive sheets, wearing one of his old t-shirts. So fucking small, and breakable, and vulnerable. Tony couldn’t keep him. As long as the boy was alive, he would be a weakness, he could be used as leverage.

So he needed to die. It was for his own good.

The next day, he called Barnes into his office, lighted up a cigar and slowly smoked it as he tried to digest the words he had to say to him. The other man stood there stoically, waiting patiently, until Tony blurted out, “I need you to kill Peter.” He didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even flinch. Professional as ever.

“When do you need it done, boss?” Barnes was the best man for the job, Steve was great, but he was a little soft, and Tony saw the way he looked at the kid, with that small, discreet smile full of fondness.

“Tonight,” he said, jaw set, eyes narrowed. It needed to be done. “He has a night shift at the diner. He gets off at eleven, I want it done by then. You know the drill, be discreet, careful not to make much of a mess, don’t leave any witnesses, yada yada.” He gestured with his cigar, feeling detached, like he was talking about anybody else but Peter.

“You got it, boss.” Barnes nodded and turned to leave, only to be stopped by Tony’s voice.

“Barnes,” Tony didn’t look at him when he turned around. “Make it quick. And painless.”

“Of course.”

So Tony waited. And that day might as well have lasted a fucking year, the way the hours dragged, he couldn’t concentrate on his meetings, couldn’t fucking eat, not even his cigars were enough to calm him down. He was snapping at his employees, killing people for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, losing money for being too fucking off his game.

Around ten that night, he sat on his favorite armchair, the one one in which he and Peter fucked when they couldn’t even make it to the bed, and waited. He drank his scotch and pretended to think of something else, anything, but his mind kept going back to Peter’s lifeless body covered in blood. Gone forever. He lighted up a cigar and, when he noticed his fingers were fucking shaking as it approached eleven o’clock, he realized he couldn’t fucking do it. At ten fifty-eight, he called Barnes.

“Barnes, what’s your status?” He asked, a lump in his throat, afraid it was too late already.

“He’s gathering up his things to leave, boss.” He answered calmly and Tony sighed in relief.

“I’m calling it off. Come back here right now, you and Rogers.”

“Yes, boss.”

As he waited for them, he poured himself a glass of scotch, weighting his options. He couldn’t kill Peter, but he couldn’t let him be a weakness either, so he needed a plan. First of all, Peter couldn’t be kept in the dark anymore, it was too dangerous. Second of all, nobody could ever know about him, the only two people who already knew he existed were Barnes and Rogers, and he would keep it that way.

“It’s your duty to make sure no one knows about him. Not a single soul. I mean it.” He stared at them intently and they looked back at him impassibly, nodding. “If anyone gets a whiff of him, if anyone tries to harm him in any way, I’m gonna choose one of you to torture and kill and let the other one watch and then lock them in the same room with the body to watch it rot, are we clear?”

“Yes, boss,” they both answered in unison, unfazed. One of the reasons Tony trusted them with his life was because they were each other’s weakness, they were easy to threaten. The second reason, of course, was because they risked their lives to rescue him when the Ten Rings gang managed to kidnap him, under Obadiah Stane’s orders, the jealous bastard. Nobody else came but them, and they took down the whole gang by themselves. He rewarded them handsomely, and they became the highest ranking people in his inner circle, followed closely by Natasha and Bruce.

“Good. Bring him to me.”

Not even an hour later, Peter walked into his office, looking frightened. As soon as he saw Tony, though, he breathed a great sigh of relief, rushing to his side to sit on his lap and hold him tight. Tony raised a brow, confused.

“I was so worried, Bucky and Steve just picked me up and they wouldn’t say anything, I thought something had happened to you.” His little arms clutched his neck tightly, desperately, and Tony’s heart swelled with emotions he didn’t even know existed. He breathed in the boy’s scent, feeling nervous all of a sudden, he wasn’t sure why.

“We need to talk, Peter.” He held his head with both hands and pushed him a little. “Maybe you’ll want to sit a little farther away from me for what I’m about to tell you.”

“I know what you’re gonna tell me. Please, don’t.” Tony froze at that, muscles going rigid, eyes wide. He stared at the kid’s face and he looked embarrassed, sad and scared.

“What do you think you know, Pete?” He asked quietly, studying the boy’s reactions. He shrugged his shoulders, avoiding Tony’s eyes.

“I think you’re not really a CEO,” he whispered, as a single tear ran down his cheek. Tony reached out to dry it immediately. “I-I think you h-hurt people… And stuff.”

“What stuff? Why do you think that?” He tucked a curl behind his ear and placed a finger on his chin to force him too look at him.

“I don’t know what stuff, just… Stuff. Illegal stuff.” More tears followed and he closed his eyes briefly, opening them a few seconds later. Tony waited patiently. “I’ve heard you on the phone a few times, I can smell gunpowder on you. And – blood. And it’s never yours.” Tony nodded slowly, watching his boy falling apart before his eyes, he looked pained. He was clearly a lot smarter then he let on and a lot sneakier, if he had been listening in on his phone calls. Weirdly, the older man wasn’t even mad.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” He questioned, trying to dry his tears again, holding the boy’s cheeks in his palms. He nodded slowly.

“It terrifies me,” he admitted quietly. “But I – I just. I can’t stay away from you.” He frowned and Tony sighed, smiling softly.

“I couldn’t hurt you if I tried, baby boy.” He wanted to laugh at how true that was.

“I know. I think I know that, just. Just don’t tell me wh– I don’t want to know. The things you do.”

“Of course, it has nothing to do with you, you’re not a part of this world. I’m just gonna need you to be more careful, ok, baby? We’ll set a few ground rules, and everything will be just fine.” He rubbed the boys arms as he nodded, but he still seemed agitated and nervous. ”Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I – Yeah, I guess.” He tried to smile but it turned into a grimace as a few more tears escaped his eyes. “I’m really scared.”

“Peter, listen to me. You don’t ever have to be scared, do you hear me? No one can touch you, you’re under my protection. Do you understand that? No one would dare, I swear to you. I swear it.” There was a lot of confidence in his voice, but he was terrified himself, he was afraid he couldn’t keep that promise, but Peter believed him. The way his face softened and he was finally able to smile again, Tony knew he believed him.  

They took it one day at a time, slowly figuring out their own rules. After that talk, they didn’t see each other for a few weeks, just in case someone had taken notice of the fact that Peter had entered the tower seven times over the course of four months. Then, for the boy’s spring break, Tony took him to Japan for a week, where they could walk around freely, hand in hand, only taking a few precautions before traveling, like not boarding the same plane. After that, they were able to establish a weekly routine, they never met on the same day or at the same time, but they never went more than a week without seeing each other. Quickly, days turned into weeks, which turned into months, which turned into years. Two whole years, and Tony still couldn’t believe how a boy like Peter could belong with a monster like him.

“Boss, the prince is upstairs,” Barnes warned him as soon as he stepped into the tower, to Tony’s surprise. They hadn’t scheduled anything for that night and, for a few seconds, the older man panicked and it must have shown, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. “He’s unharmed. He insisted that I brought him as a surprise, just a heads-up.” He added and the boss let out a breath slowly, nodding.

“Very well.”

Tony hurried upstairs and as soon as he stepped inside the apartment, he was gifted with the sight of his young lover sitting on his armchair. He was wearing one of the older man’s t-shirts, his favorite one, the oldest Tony owned. He didn’t seem to be wearing anything underneath it, as Tony got a glimpse of his cute little cock peeking out from under the hem of his shirt, between his parted legs. The boy was sleeping, head resting on a hand, propped on the arm of the chair.

The older man walked towards him, loosening his tie, then stopped in front of him. He knelt by his feet, stroked his calves lightly and kissed both of his knees softly. The boy’s eyes fluttered open in surprise, until they finally focused on Tony.

“My prince,” The older man greeted, kissing his way up the pale, plump legs, stopping at the hem of the t-shirt. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“Tony,” He mumbled sleepily, running his fingers through the other’s graying hair. “It’s okay, I was hoping to surprise you, actually, but I guess I fell asleep.” His hand slid towards the older man’s cheek and he leaned into it like a cat, turning a little to place a kiss on his palm.

“Good boy,” he resumed his kisses on pale, shivering thighs, and Peter sighed quietly. “What was this surprise about, baby boy?”

“Just missed you, it’s been a while,” Peter adjusted himself on the chair, sliding his lower half down the seat and spreading his legs wider, until Tony could see a sparkle between the boy’s cheeks, where his pink, tight hole should be. The young man was blushing slightly, Tony found it endearing that he still did, after all that time.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, have I been neglecting you?” His fingers slid across Peter’s legs, thumbs drawing circles on the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, and the boy’s breath hitched as he got closer and closer to his balls. Tony saw his small cock flushing pink as it stood to attention, and the toy inside his hole jerked.

“It’s okay, you’re busy.” Which was absolutely true. Between Peter’s classes, Tony’s tight schedule and having to keep the boy a secret, there wasn’t a lot of time for them to meet, but Tony would correct that soon. When the boy graduated in a couple of months, he wouldn’t be such an easy target anymore, at least he wouldn’t have a predictable schedule in such a public place. He could live at the tower, where it was safe, and Barnes and Rogers could take care of him whenever he needed to go out.

“I was, little one, but I have all the time in the world for you now, let’s see this surprise of yours, shall we?” He spread Peter’s legs further, placing each of them on the arms of the chair, his boy was incredibly flexible, gorgeous to watch. He raised his shirt a little bit, just up to his stomach, but didn’t take it off. “Ah, I see. What a beautiful surprise you have there, baby boy. Thank you.” His little hole was stretched around the plug Tony had bought for him, a slick, black one, with jewels encrusted on the handle, now sticking out of him. It wasn’t too big or thick, he liked him to be tight, after all. “Did my prince come while putting this in?”

“Yes, sir… Twice,” He was already panting and Tony hadn’t even touched him where it mattered yet. He smirked and clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, you must have been really starved for cock, right? Daddy haven’t been feeding you properly. We’re gonna correct this now.” He held the end of the plug and pushed it in a little more, moved it around a bit, only to hear his boy gasp when it brushed his sweet spot. Then he slowly started pulling it out, watching in amazement as his rim stretched to allow the thickest part of the toy to come out. Once it was completely out, his hole gaped for a few seconds, before clenching furiously around nothing.

The kneeling position was hard on his knees, but his prince deserved nothing less, so stayed there and leaned in, licking the wet, quivering hole, eliciting a desperate moan from Peter, as he held his own knees in an attempt to keep his legs spread open. Tony gripped his thin waist, fingers digging into his soft flesh, hard enough to leave marks, and tried to fuck his tongue inside him. Since it was already a little loose from the toy, it gave in and he was able to lick inside him, and the boy cried out in pleasure, rocking his hips against his mouth.

“Oh, I missed this, Tony… I missed this…” He mumbled, arching his back, and the older man kept going, tongue buried inside his hole, fucking and licking it, biting his ass cheeks carefully when the young man tried to close his thighs around his head. He tasted delicious and smelled amazing. Tony made his way up to his ball as he pressed two fingers into his hole. They went in with barely any resistance as the boy moaned desperately when Tony sucked his balls into his mouth.

Peter writhed on the chair, hands buried in the older man’s hair, trying to pull him closer, small whimpers leaving his mouth every time the man’s fingers brushed his prostate. Tony licked his way back to his hole, as he tried to fuck it with both his tongue and fingers, until he could see Peter was way too close to the edge.

He got up from the floor and undid his pants. As soon as his cock sprung free, Peter launched himself at it, grabbing it with one hand and sucking the head into his mouth, like a starving man. Tony’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he groaned, burying his fingers in his wild curls and tugging just a little, enough to prevent him from deep-throating his cock – he probably wouldn’t last long if he did, sometimes he thought he might come just from rimming him.

He held his head with both hands, setting a steady pace, and Peter obeyed happily. He licked the tip of his cock, kissed it gently, then went back to sucking as one of his hands came up to play with the older man’s heavy balls – he hadn’t come in days. He took a deep breath and allowed his boy to have his fun for a while, but then pushed him gently and lifted him from the chair, taking a seat himself.

“Come sit on your throne, my prince.” He grinned devilishly, and Peter didn’t even blink an as he placed a knee on each side of Tony’s thighs, reaching behind himself to guide his cock inside.

“Oh, fuck,” He cried, as he sank down onto his cock, mouth hanging open, head thrown back in ecstasy. Tony watched, mesmerized, as the boy took him in slowly, inch by inch, until his cock was completely sheathed inside his tight heat. Peter’s inner walls massaged him as his little hole fluttered, trying to adjust to his girth, and he made little sounds of pain and pleasure.

“You’re perfect, baby, perfect for me,” Tony held his face by the cheeks and brought him closer, licking his lips open to kiss him messily and hungrily. He’d missed him, too, his soft skin, his high-pitched voice, his tiny hands stroking his face, the bouncy, sweet-smelling curls. Peter truly belonged in another world, and although he should feel completely out of place in Tony’s arms, nothing ever felt so right in his life.

The younger man started moving after a few seconds, whimpering against Tony’s lips as he rocked his hips back and forth, up and down. His hands clutched the back of the chair as he bounced on the older man’s cock, following the pace set by Tony’s hands on his hips. The older man slapped his ass once, twice, only to see the boy coming undone, biting his lips and trying to stop himself from screaming.

“Let me hear you, baby,” he grunted, fucking up into him as he bit the younger man’s lips, holding his neck with a hand. When he slapped him a third time, Peter couldn’t hold it in anymore, he screamed the older man’s name as he came with a blinding force, arching his back and gripping his shoulders. If the sight of Peter out of his mind with pleasure wasn’t enough to push him over the edge, the way he clenched his hole on his cock would do it. The older man followed suit, as he grunted against the boy’s neck, leaving marks on his skin.

Peter went limp in his arms, completely relaxed and safe, arms wrapped around his shoulders as Tony held him close, protectively. If it were up to him, Peter would never leave the penthouse, he’d quit his job, and school, and be right there where Tony could look after him. But of course he was a feisty little one, so it wasn’t up to Tony.

“Have you eaten, little one?” He whispered, placing soft kisses on his shoulders and neck, and the boy shuddered.

“No, I was waiting for you.” He whispered back, snuggling further into his arms. “But now I’m sleepy.”

“Poor baby.” He placed a kiss on his temple. “Why don’t you take a nap while I cook you some Bucatini Carbonara, huh? Isn’t that your favorite?”

“No, I’ll cook, you always cook for me,” he mumbled against his neck and Tony could barely understand what he said.

“But you’re sleepy, baby. Besides, you’re a terrible cook on a good day.” Tony chuckled, feeling the boy laughing against his chest.

“Fine, I’ll help, then,” he compromised, pecking his lips.

“Sounds great.”

Peter carefully lifted off of his cock, then stepped out of the chair, hurrying to the bathroom. Tony watched, heart clenching, as his boy walked away. He squeezed his eyes shut for a minute, trying to rein in the feeling of dread that overtook him as he imagined Peter in danger, held captive by someone like him, someone as cruel and heartless as him, someone who would torture him, make him suffer, just to get to Tony. He opened his eyes wide, feeling helpless, as he realized there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to protect him. He’d give away his entire kingdom, he’d give his own life in exchange for his.

Peter came back to the living room, still wearing his old t-shirt, a huge grin on his face as he rambled about school. Tony smiled to himself. He was worth it.

[hargreeveslftv]

The Occult: DOOMSDAY | an umbrella academy series

chapter eight | word count: 2,851

CHAPTER EIGHT | …or for worse ( song | exit music - radiohead ) 

“Nuclear war, asteroids. But I’m thinking this is about the moon, right?” Luther says, instantly losing everyone in the room. 

Melanie almost wants to laugh as she sees the look of desperation Diego sends Klaus the moment the word “moon” leaves Luther’s mouth, but stops suddenly, feeling a strange wave of deja vu wash over her. 

“Dad must have sent me up there for a reason. And I was giving him daily updates on the conditions, I sent field samples. So the first thing we need to do, is find his research." 

"Hold on, hold the phone,” Klaus interrupts, we all died fighting this thing first time around, remember?“

"Klaus, shockingly, has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Diego asks, adding onto Klaus’s point. 

Suddenly, a bright blue portal opens above the bar, making Melanie throw herself backwards into the cabinets behind the bar to avoid it. 

“Jesus!” Allison yells, all of the siblings watching as Five fell on top of the bar in front of them. 

“You guys, am I still high, or do you see him too?” Klaus asks worriedly. 

Luther immediately starts to question him as he rolls off the bar, his feet barely landing under him as Luther and Allison help him stand up. 

“Irrelevant.” He replies to his questions, snatching the coffee cup from Allison’s hand instead of answering. 

The five watch him as he walks away from their little pack, slurping back every drop of coffee he could before turning to face them.

“So, the apocalypse is in three days. The only chance we have to save our world is, well, us.”

“The umbrella academy.” Luther says quietly. 

“Yeah, but with me, obviously.” Five adds, looking at everyone, “so if yall don’t get your sideshow acts together and get over yourselves we’re screwed." 

Five is met with silence as everyone stares at him in shock, Melanie wordlessly exchanging glances with Diego as he continues. 

"Who cares if Dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us?” He asks them sternly. 

“No.” Klaus replies, breaking the silence of the group and speaking for everyone. 

“To give us a fighting chance to see next week, I’ve come back with a lead.” Five announces, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, “I know who’s responsible for the apocalypse." 

Allison immediately reaches out for the paper, her, Klaus and Luther crowding around it before Diego and Melanie join them.

"This is who we have to stop.” Five says as she opens the folded paper. 

Reassignment: protect Harold Jenkins. 

“Harold Jenkins?” Allison reads aloud. 

“Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?” Diego asks, looking between Klaus and Allison to see Five. 

But instead of a answer, all they get is the sound of Five slurping on Allison’s coffee cup. 

“I don’t know… yet.” He says, throwing the empty cup into the room behind him. “But I know he’s responsible for the apocalypse. So we have to find him, and we have to do it now." 

"How is he connected to what’s gonna happen?” Luther asks. 

“I don’t know." 

"Wait, so you just know his name?” Diego asks, everyone taking turns at firing their questions to Five. 

“There’s probably dozens of Harold Jenkinses in the city.” Diego says hopelessly. 

“That is if he’s even in the city.” Melanie points out, Five getting more frustrated by the second. 

“Well we better start looking, then." 

"I’m sorry,” Allison interrupts, “am I the only one skeptical here? I mean how exactly do you know all of this about what’s his name?" 

"Harold Jenkins.” Five reminds her. “You know those lunatics in masks who attacked the house?" 

"Oh yeah, I think I remember those guys.” Klaus comments, Diego immediately snapping at him. 

“Yeah the ones that attacked us while you were getting drunk." 

"They were sent by the Temps Commission to stop me from coming back and preventing the end of life on earth.” Five explains. 

“The Temps what?” Allison questions, folding her arms in front of her as she stood between Diego and Luther, Klaus falling onto the couch beside him and Melanie sitting down on the one opposite. 

“My former employer, they monitor all of time and space to make sure whatever is supposed to happen, happens. They believe the apocalypse is coming in three days.” Five explain further, patience obviously thinning, “So I went to the Commission headquarters and intercepted a message that was meant for said lunatics."Protect Harold Jenkins.” So he must be responsible for the apocalypse.“ 

The three siblings still standing let silence hang for a moment, before all three of them start talking at once, Melanie reaching up to cover her ears with a groan. 

"Do you have any idea how insane this sounds?” Someone asks, Melanie taking one hand away as Five speaks again. 

“You know what else is insane? I look like a thirteen year old boy. Klaus talks to the dead, Diego controls butter knives with his mind, Allison can completely bend minds with a stupid catchphrase, Melanie could kill all of us if she wasn’t always sleep deprived, and Luther thinks he’s fooling everybody with that overcoat. Everything about us is insane. It always has been." 

"He’s got a point there.” Klaus agrees. 

“We didn’t choose this life, we’re just living it. For the next three days anyway." 

"Amen to that.” Melanie mutters.

“But last time we tried to stop it, we all died. Why is this time any different? Why shouldn’t I go home to my daughter?” Allison fights back. 

“Because this time I’m here. We have the name of the man responsible. Guys we actually have the chance of saving the lives of billions of people.” Five says confidently, before looking directly at Allison. “Including Claire." 

"You know her name?” She asks confused, Five nodding in response. 

“I do. And I’d like to live long enough to meet her." 

"All right.” Allison says, convinced enough that some of her confidence returns. “Let’s get this bastard." 

"You had me at Gerald Jenkins.” Diego shrugs, Five rolling his eyes and correcting him. 

“Harold Jenkins." 

"Whatever, I’ve already lost two people this week, I’m not losing anyone else.” He says, glancing from Luther to Melanie as he speaks. 

“Luther?” Five asks, catching his attention. 

“Yeah, you go. I’m gonna stay and go through Dad’s files.” He nods, “I still think this has something to do with why he sent me to the moon." 

"Oh my god Luther no one cares about the fucking moon.” Melanie complains, getting up from the couch and following Diego. 

“Seriously? Now you wanna make the end of the world about you and Dad?” Diego asks in disbelief. 

“No, watch for threats, that’s what he told me. You think that’s a coincidence? This all has to be connected somehow.” Luther argues, Melanie one eye roll away from her eyes falling out of her head at his words. 

“No we should stick together.” Allison says, quickly being cut off by Five. 

“We don’t have time for this.” Five yells at them. 

“Let’s roll, I know where we can find this asshole.” Diego nods, glancing at Melanie before looking to Klaus. “Klaus, Melanie, you’re with me." 

Melanie nods, but frowns at Klaus’s reaction. 

"Yeah, no, I’m good. I think I’ll uh, I think I’ll pass. I'm… feeling a little under the weather, so uh…” He rambles, walking past everyone towards the stairs. 

Melanie, Diego and Five all eye roll in unison, walking out of the living room one after the other. 

Not long later, Melanie sat in the back seat of the car, Allison beside her while Diego and Five sat up front. 

“He’s gotta have a record. We gotta get our hands on that file.” Diego mutters, parking the car. 

“And your plan is to what, waltz in there and just ask for it?” Allison asks. 

“I know the station like the back of my hand, sis. I’ve spent a lot of time inside.” He shoots her down, though not as brutally as normal. 

“Handcuffed." 

"Whatever. Here’s the plan-" 

"Plan?” Five asks with a raised eyebrow. “I’m just gonna blink in and get the file." 

"No that’s not… you don’t know the ins and outs of this place, okay?" 

"Yeah none of us do because we don’t get caught with our hands in the cookie jar all the time like you do.” Melanie comments, going completely ignored by everyone. 

“I literally just did this yesterday. My yesterday, not your yesterday.” Five clarifies. 

The two bicker for a small while longer, Melanie and Allison exchanging looks of exhaustion at their antics. 

“I made a call. That’s what a leader does. He leads.” Diego says, watching his side mirror intently, before jumping out and running down the alley. 

“So,” Melanie sighs, “you guys catch dancing with the stars?" 

Five and Allison just look at her for a moment, before Allison climbs out of the car. 

"I’m gonna try to call Vanya.” She announces, Five sighing and following her out. 

Left alone, Melanie yells out her window. 

“Guess I’ll stay here then!” She yells, annoyance obvious in her tone. 

Melanie tapped her foot for a moment, watching some people move around on the sidewalk before jumping out of the car herself, following her siblings paths down the street just in time to see Diego, Allison and Five gathered on the corner. 

“Leonard Peabody is Harold Jenkins!” Allison announces, expecting her to know who he is while showing Melanie the picture in the police file in her hands. 

“Card guy?” She frowns, finally recognising the man from the store. 

“We have to get to Vanya.” Five says, looking between them with a determined look on his face. 

“I know where she might be." 

-

"How did you even know about this place?” Melanie asks. 

“Okay so,” Allison explains as Diego pulls the car up to the curb outside the house she directed him to, “I maybe have already broken into his house before I knew he was a murderer." 

Diego scoffs, rolling his eyes while Melanie let’s out a full belly laugh next to her sister in the backseat. 

"I can’t believe you actually broke into somewhere! Tell me, was it exciting? Thrilling? To finally do something you’re not meant to for once?” She asks, her tone mocking after recalling the time Allison told on her to Reginald for breaking and entering, herself. 

“It was terrifying and it shouldn’t be done.” Allison replies, making Melanie roll her eyes as they all climbed out of the car. 

“Be careful, okay? We don’t know what Peabody’s capable of.” Allison warns. 

“Yeah he didn’t seem dangerous when I first saw him. Looked kinda scrawny.” Diego says, shrugging it off as he walked across the lawn of the house. 

“Yeah, well, so are most serial killers and mass murderers.” She replies, pointing in Five’s direction, “Look at him." 

"Thanks.” Five says with a roll of his eyes. 

“It’s funny cause it’s true.” Melanie smiles, bumping Five with her shoulder as they approach the house. 

“Good point. So what’s this guy want with Vanya?” Diego asks. 

“I don’t know,” Five answers, “how about we ask him after we kill him?" 

"Hey, look. I’m gonna burst through-” Diego starts, but is interrupted as Five blips away. 

“Kids these days.” Melanie sighs, leaning against the brick wall beside the door. 

“Hey, no, you’re just as bad as him.” Diego replies, eyebrow raised as she blows a raspberry at him. 

Without warning, Diego takes a couple steps back, before jumping up and launching himself through the window in the door. 

“Oh my fucking god, Diego.” Melanie groans, rubbing her temples for a moment before reaching out and twisting the doorknob, it opening freely. 

“The door wasn’t locked, just so you know.” She comments, offering Diego a hand to help him up after she walks inside. 

“Subtle.” Allison adds, Five actually cracking a smile for once as he looked down at Diego covered in glass. 

“Yeah, well, my way works just fine.” He defends, his voice strained with pain, unsurprisingly. 

“Spread out.” He instructs, walking towards one of the rooms. “Yell if you, uh… you know, you’re in trouble." 

"Inspiring leadership.” Five jokes, as the three of them watch Diego walk off. 

“One of the greats.” Allison agrees sarcastically. 

“Come on.” Melanie nods towards the stairs, looking at Allison to accompany her. 

Leading the way up the stairs, Melanie looks back to Allison for a moment, signalling to take the right, while she herself would go left. Allison nods in agreement, and the two split up as they reach the landing. 

Melanie checks the rooms to the left of the stairs for anyone, but her head quickly spins around as she hears Allison call for everyone. 

With Diego, Five, and Melanie responding instantly, they follow Allison’s voice up the attic stairs, Melanie pulling a face of disgust as she sees what Allison is looking at. 

A shrine of sorts sits pride of place in the middle of the attic, Melanie instantly recognising the posters and dolls taped up and disfigured as those of herself and her siblings, a cold chill running through her as Diego and Five file in behind her. 

“All our faces are burnt off.” Allison notices, pointing to where each figure sat lined up by number. 

“Well,” Diego frowns, “that’s not creepy. This guy’s got some serious issues." 

"This was never about Vanya. This was about us.” Allison realises, turning and looking at them with concern on her face. 

Though any thought of Harold Jenkins is wiped away as Five collapses to the floor, Melanie’s eyes going wide before she drops to her knees beside him as he lays writhing around in pain. 

Melanie holds his head up while Allison pulls back his blazer, showing a bloodstain blooming over his stomach, his shirt and vest getting pushed out of the way to reveal a seeping hole. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Diego asks, protective brotherly instincts instantly kicking in. 

“You have to keep going. So… close.” Five says, his voice fading as his body stills. 

“Five?” Allison asks, shaking him as Diego taps his cheek, Melanie pressing her fingers to his neck and checking for a pulse as the other two try to bring him around. 

“He’s still alive. We need to get him help.” She says worriedly, glancing between the two of them. 

Diego breaks about every speed limit there is driving back to the academy, Allison holding under Five’s arms while Melanie carries his legs, Diego pushing the door open in front of them. 

“We should have taken him to the hospital.” Allison insists as they carry him through the foyer. 

“A kid with shrapnel wounds might raise some questions.” Five comments weakly, his voice nowhere near as strong as it should have been. 

“Yeah, well so does the murder shrine in Harold Jenkins’ attic." 

"Let’s just put that one on the back burner for a minute.” Melanie instructs, as they set Five down on a couch in the living room.

“He’s still losing blood, what do we do?” Allison asks Diego as she throws her jacket off somewhere into the room. 

“We gotta get the shrapnel out." 

But, instead of moving to help Five, Diego freezes, looking out the door like he’s seen a ghost before jogging out. 

"Diego? Where are you going?” Allison calls after him. 

Melanie busied herself propping Five’s head up on a couple pillows, and getting him to tap her hand twice, a indicator they figured out in the car for him to show he was still conscious. 

“Did he just say mom?” Allison asks her, to which she just shrugs. 

But as Grace walks into the room, Melanie can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, jumping up from Five’s side and launching herself into her arms. 

“Mom!” She yells happily, Grace returning her hug after stumbling for a second. 

“Oh! Melanie dear! You nearly knocked me off my feet.” She says cheerily, smiling at her before walking to Five after Melanie lets her go. 

It doesn’t take long for Grace to patch Five up, and before they know it, he’s laying on his bed with her by his side, finally resting for what Melanie guessed was the first time since he got back. 

Melanie sat on the floor of his room, in front of the seat where Delores sat, Diego hovering in the doorway behind her who’s soon joined by Allison. 

“Is he gonna be okay?” Melanie asks Grace, who smiles at her, nodding gently. 

“He should be. He needs to rest." 

Melanie sighs, but her expression quickly turns into a frown as she hears police sirens on the street out front. 

Pushing herself up off the ground, she walks to the window, pushing the curtains aside just enough to see Diego walking towards a lineup of cop cars and officers with guns. 

Her eyes go wide as she watches Diego not put up a fight, an officer handcuffing him peacefully. 

"Five,” Melanie says tensely, “Diego’s getting arrested. 

The barely conscious boy sighs, brows furrowing in stress. 

"Shit." 

chapter nine coming sat, oct 10th

[sunnytumbies]

I'm somewhat confident that Amy's stress baking enables one or more of the other characters to then Stress Eat the baking, which could lead to Tummy Fic (tell me if I'm right and also you don't have anon asks turned on. c; might get more asks if you hit that switch!)

Whoops! Anons, you are now free to enter–sorry bout that! 

So, funny story: Tiny, you are right–you are so right, in fact, that I decided to write a lil fill for this! I had like 500 words written and then accidentally closed the tab :’), and for whatever reason my response was even more determined writing to finish it. Long story short, it’s now a /4391 word monster/ that I’m not even all that proud of, but I’m posting it anyway! It’s gonna be confusing & maybe a headache for me later because this is happening later in the story than the first “major story event” fic I’ll be posting but...here we are.

Content warning: this fic involves dysphoria, mentions of menstruation, self-loathing, and binge eating as a response to stress. Please be mindful should you choose to read!

___________________________________________________________

Amy hums lightly to herself, dusting the last of the madeleines with powdered sugar, breathing in the comforting aromas, honey and lemon mingling with cinnamon and apple, almond and vanilla, chocolate and bread. She can’t pretend that this was a good decision, can’t act like she would not have possibly benefit more from a day of studying than a day of baking, but the knots in her chest have finally started to loosen, and it’s hard to take that as anything but a win. She plates the madeleines and slides them into the last remaining patch of free space on the L-shaped countertop, clutching the notebook that belonged to her mother close to her chest. 

It’s not that Amy only ever bakes French desserts. She adores the challenge of baklava with its stubborn phyllo dough, loves the thrill and the spectacle of a good Baked Alaska; it’s just that sometimes, she needs to hear her mother’s voice in the only way she knows how–baking the way Maman taught her, dutifully reading the advice scrawled in the margins of her recipe notebook in eccentric cursive, cleaning as she cooks (”Mieux vaut prévenir que guérir, Amelie,” she’ll find herself muttering at times in a poor imitation of her mother. It translates to “It is better to prevent than to heal,” which she thinks is sort of intense as far as wisdom about cleanliness goes, but then, she’s never forgotten it). Professors will likely always butcher her last name, flattening the syllables into something harsh and ugly; classmates will continue to express their envy at the ease with which they assume she sails through her foreign language requirement, oblivious to the unique heartache of struggling to write in a language that flows from her lips with more ease than English sometimes; but no one can take this from her, her mother’s recipes in her mother’s own words, the familiar tastes and smells of home. 

It started with the croissants, shaping the dough she’d prepped earlier this week in preparation to make pains au chocolat--she can’t stop her lips from quirking up in a small, proud smile, now, looking at how perfectly they rose, how flaky the croissants are, how tantalizingly the smell of chocolate and freshly-baked bread is wafting off of them, how they glisten with brushed-on butter. But when her eyes glanced over the mostly-full bottle of fruity olive oil in the pantry, how could she resist whipping up a lemon curd tart, with its buttery almond crust and rich lemon custard filling? And it would have simply been silly to waste the lemon zest she had leftover from the tart--not when she could make the madeleines, tiny delicious cakes sweetened with honey and brown sugar, the tang of the lemon zest cutting through the sweetness in the most delicious way, complimented by the dusting of powdered sugar. Then, she thought, that was an awful lot of citrus--she simply had to offset it with a quick apple mille-feuille, the autumnal scent of roasted apples, maple syrup, and apple brandy making her wistful for October. But wait--no mille-feuille was complete without the bourbon whipped cream on top, and shouldn’t poor lactose intolerant Cal have plenty of options too? Besides, a simple spiced bread wouldn’t take too long, and the mixture of star anise, ginger, and cinnamon, sweetened with honey and rife with dried apricots and plums, would be sure to make a delicious sweet toast for breakfast.

Even still, it wasn’t truly over until she noticed that several cartons of eggs--which she, for obvious reasons, tended to buy in bulk--were set to expire soon, and it would certainly be foolish to waste so much money--really, she hardly had a choice! She made chocolate macarons with orange ganache, a cherry buttermilk clafoutis; she made kouign-amann, with its buttery dough and sugary crust, and, in a desperate bid to eat through the eggs, another batch of macarons, this time with raspberry-rose buttercream. Struck with a flash of inspiration, she used the egg yolks she’d set aside while whipping the whites into stiff peaks fit for a meringue to make toasted-flour sablé, a sort of moist little sugar cookie, and while she was at it threw in a batch of snickerdoodles--cookies were easy to both make and get rid of in bulk, and besides, they were Cal’s favorite. Lastly, she decided to tackle a chocolate pound cake--quatre-quarts au chocolat de juliette, her mother’s handwriting rebuked her, along with an all-caps reminder to bake it in a bain-marie, PAS au four!!!!!. It made Amy laugh a little, but she couldn’t deny that the water-bath made for a much richer, much more moist final product than the oven. 

She feels a brief rush of shame, looking over it all--it’s truly an improbable amount of baking she’s done, here--but her heart is full, her back aching in a satisfying, productive way. If nothing else, she’s made the house smell like home and has ensured that anyone who enters can leave full and satisfied. Finally, she removes her apron and checks her watch--perfect. She has about half an hour to get to work for her 8pm-midnight shift, a fairly non-intensive desk position at one of the campus libraries, and she’ll more likely than not have enough free time to look over her chemistry notes. As for the baked goods, she opts to leave them out, but takes a few moments to write out sticky notes (“dairy free! Come right in, Cal!”; “full of dairy! Cals beware!”), and smiles gently as she thinks of Cal coming home to a warm kitchen and plenty to eat. “That boy is too damn skinny,” she mumbles to herself fondly, and flicks off the kitchen light, leaving the one above the oven on to bathe the kitchen in a warm, welcoming glow. 

Cal is not having a good day. 

He shivers as another gust of wind blows what feels like through him, making his teeth chatter as he attempts to sink even lower into his hoodie. The slumping motion does not agree with his cramping lower belly, and he groans, straightening back up with an arm looped around his stomach. 

Any day at this time of month for him is a difficult one. He knows for a fact that he “passes,” but he still feels uncomfortably seen, feels like he has to hide himself from view as much as possible. It certainly doesn’t help that his skin hurts, that his belly bloats and his bound chest becomes sore, that despite the fact that he no longer bleeds, he gets all the associated symptoms, yeah, thanks for that, genetics. Even so, Cal isn’t new to this, exactly, and he can deal with the cramping, can even handle the accompanying dysphoria like a champ, but today has been extraordinarily awful. He couldn’t sleep last night, feeling in turns too hot and too cold, and barely made it to his bio class this morning; all the coffee machines were down in the dining hall, meaning his eyes were burning with exhaustion by the time he was halfway through bio, let alone his other two classes of the day; perhaps most damning at all, the paper he’s been counting on being due next week is actually due this week, causing him to spend an extra few hours in the library after class, barely awake, forcing himself to get something, anything onto the page; and, the cherry on top of it all, he missed the last bus home, hence tramping home now in the dark and the rain. More than one car has splashed him as it’s passed, and his jeans are practically soaked through. 

He’s cold, he’s exhausted, he barely even made a dent in the paper, and his fucking stomach hurts, the cramps now joined by an anxious knot; as much as he wants to take comfort from the fact that he can see the apartment complex getting steadily closer, he also knows that he’s going to be home alone, and something about that just does not sit well with him at the moment that Cal doesn’t want to analyze, thank you very much. 

He shivers his way up the stairs leading to the apartment, down the exceedingly long corridor, through the front door, and is almost immediately assailed by both a rush of welcome warmth and a rush of smells so delicious and overpowering that he knows immediately that today was a stress-baking day for Amy. Something drains out of Cal then, equal parts tension and restraint, the anxious buzzing of his thoughts thrown off by the sheer number of baked goods spread across the counter top. He lets his backpack fall to the floor with a thud. His stomach rumbles--he ate today, but not well--and he sort of knows he’s doomed when he catches the scent of chocolate, as well as when his eyes land on a plate of snickerdoodles (which very much does not make a lump rise in his throat, okay, it’s whatever, it doesn’t  matter, Amy made his favorite cookie for him in the middle of her own stress-fueled baking marathon, it’s whatever). Amy will be home soon. Quincy, too, at some point. He’ll be fine. He just needs to do what he can until then, and there’s no shortage of snacks to keep him busy while he waits. 

Shocking no one less than him, Cal has many, many regrets, and at least half of them are baked goods he has put into his body over the last hour. He whimpers a little, oh-so-gently palming his belly, which has distressingly little give even when he ventures to apply a little more pressure with his fingertips. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this bloated, heavy with food and swollen with almond milk, and he’d be lying if he said he’s not fighting tears, beyond ashamed to be in this state: slumped sitting on the floor, back supported by the side of the counter, shirt riding up to expose the pink flesh of his belly. He has to swallow thickly a few times, imagining the sugary sludge that’s surely squelching through his insides right now, trying to force back a dangerous burp that squeezes out anyway and leaves the taste of honey and cinnamon in the back of his mouth. He tried to be good, and that’s maybe what sucks the most. He started with a few snickerdoodles, ostensibly the only dessert on the counter that had been made for him, unable to hold back a little groan of pleasure at the taste, buttery and comforting and complemented perfectly by the crunch of cinnamon and sugar. He had four before pouring himself a tall glass of almond milk, chasing a few more cookies with it before deciding to investigate the irresistible scent of chocolate wafting from the plate of croissants. The chocolate might be a bit much for his lactose intolerance, he decided, and opted for two thick slices of the spiced bread instead, toasted and slathered with ghee. He swore they tasted like fall, like tramping through leaves and Halloween costumes when he was young. Something about filling his stomach after being so hungry and uncomfortable all day, recklessly, indulgently, eased the tightness of his chest, until he could scarcely even feel the chill from his still-damp jeans. 

He had already begun to feel rather full, but his interest was still piqued by the croissants, and he hadn’t even tried the little sugary-looking roll things, or the macaroons, or the cake--Cal squeezes his eyes shut, now, swallowing hard, struggling to even think about how much he’s eaten, but unable to completely erase the contrast from his mind between the overflowing countertop when he first arrived and the countertop now, an alarmingly high number of the cluttered plates more empty than not. All that really matters, he guesses, is that at some point filling his tummy began to hurt more than help, and he kept doing it anyway, and now his cramps have merely been replaced with sickly twinges and upset burbles. 

He tries to take a deep breath, which hitches as an ominous gurgle bubbles from the top to the bottom of his packed belly, and the tears he’s been clamping down on start to roll down his cheeks. He can’t do this, not alone, at least, and Amy’s shift still has 3 hours to go--they must have just barely missed each other. Part of him knows that he will probably feel worlds better if he simply allows himself to throw up, but he can’t handle that, not right now. He cradles his aching stomach for a moment, one trembling hand cupped under his lower belly, bloated and hot, and one resting on the hard little bloat of his tummy, even that feather-light touch ushering up a series of strained burps. After another moment of feeling his stomach contents swirl and slosh uncomfortably inside him, the nausea and misery outweigh his pride, and he hesitantly lets go of his aching stomach, swiping at his tears and pulling out his phone. 

I...fucked up, he texts her, and sends it before he can think twice about it. She replies almost instantly, one of his favorite things about Amy: ?????????????And a moment later, while he’s still figuring out where to begin: everything okay, honey?

The fragile control Cal has over his emotions abruptly slips at that, and he lets out a choked sob, swallowing hard when the motion upsets his tummy further. It hurts so fucking much, but Amy, Amy who bakes his favorites even in the middle of her own mini-crisis, Amy who takes the time to write adorable little sticky notes oriented around Cal’s dietary restrictions, Amy who calls everyone in the world honey because she cares about everyone in the goddamn world, Amy the literal human ball of sunshine--just, fucking Amy, okay? 

Yeah. I mean. I’m safe, but I’m not okay. I… Cal doubles over as a cramp twists deep in his belly, panting a little. Maybe it would be easier to just let himself be sick. You baked...a lot. I had a bad day. 

:((((( did u see my notes???? what’s going on??????

Cal has to blink hard against the tears at that, a new layer of guilt joining the anxiety and the shame of all he’s eaten. Stress-baking or not, this all had to have taken Amy a few hours, and he’d eaten right through a fair amount of almost everything. 

I’m sorry. I did see your notes. It’s not lactose, I just ate a /lot/ and I feel sick and I don’t know what to do 

A moment later, his phone buzzes with a call. It’s Amy, of course. 

“H-hey,” he manages, sniffing, and then hiccups just before a deep burp gurgles up from his churning belly, clamping a hand over his mouth for a moment as his gorge rises with it. 

“Cal, honey,” Amy says, sounding so fucking sad for him. It’s not like she’s never seen the fallout of his stress-binging before. “How much did you eat?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Cal says hoarsely, his throat burning from stubbornly swallowing back stomach acid. “I’m just nauseous and sick and--and—” He falters, feeling like a child. “And I just really had a bad day, like a really bad day, Amy, and I know your day wasn’t so good either or you wouldn’t be stress-baking but I just, I’m so fucking tired, and my paper is due and—” He gags, suddenly, and has to take a moment to collect himself, hyper-aware of Amy’s concerned silence on the other end of the line-- “and I can’t do this alone,” he finally manages, voice cracking, and it is only the knowledge that openly weeping would send him over the edge right now that keeps him from dissolving into exhausted tears. 

“I’m so sorry, Cal. I wish I could be there,” Amy murmurs soothingly, and it’s almost, almost like she’s there. “If I could leave work I’d do it in a heartbeat, but I’m going to call Quincy for you, okay?” 

Cal’s heart squeezes at that, half-anxiety, half-hope, and maybe something else, too, a deep sense of being known--Amy knows that Cal knows that she can’t leave work. Amy knows that there’s only one other person that he’d want. Amy knows that he can’t--because of anxiety, because of what he sees as a low stakes problem relative to Quincy’s very high-stakes life, because, because, because--reach out to him himself when he’s like this. “Okay,” he whispers, and hope she hears the gratitude in it. 

“Of course,” she says, so warmly that it makes Cal’s heart ache a little. “Hang in there, okay? Try to stay calm for me. I’ll let you know when he’s coming.” 

“Love you,” he mumbles, and lets his phone clatter to the floor as soon as he hears the beep that means she’s hung up, clutching at his belly, feeling his stomach lurch and rumble. He’s so fucking full. He’s such a fucking idiot. 

Some time later, Quincy comes for him. 

Cal startles when the door creaks open, then whimpers a little at the resulting complaints of his stomach. There’s just so much pressure, his stomach tight and hot as though nothing is moving at all, though with all that he feels burbling against his palm, that can’t possibly be true. Quincy looks a little frantic in the doorway before his eyes come to rest on Cal, still curled up pitifully on the floor, both hands pressed gently against his bloated stomach. 

“Oh—” Quincy breathes, shutting the door behind him, crossing the space between them in an instant and crouching in front of Cal. “God, Cal, Amy scared me half to death. Are you alright?” 

“I’m—” Cal has to stop and breathe, composing himself as a wave of nausea crashes over him, his stomach squelching unpleasantly. All at once, he realizes that he’s no longer alone, that perhaps even if he should keep suppressing everything, he no longer wants to, and he no longer cares if he’s sick, he just wants to feel better, wants to be in his bed, wants to be warm and comfortable and safe--all at once, he’s doubling over his own lap, sobbing his heart out, barely even registering the flicker of amusement he’d ordinarily feel at Quincy’s eyes going comically round behind his glasses. His stomach aches, pain ringing throughout his abdomen at the movement, and before he can process much more than that a warm palm folds itself over his distended stomach, firmly enough to quiet the cramping there, but lightly enough to keep from exacerbating the nausea.

  “Cal,” Quincy says, in that low, soothing voice of his, “I am so sorry that you’re hurting, and I’m going to make that go away, but to get you feeling better, I have to get you off the floor. I can’t imagine that you are ready to move just now?”

  “No,” Cal breathes, his usual shyness dominated by hours of physical discomfort. “Please, just—” Tears dribble down his cheeks, his lack of sleep and general exhaustion beginning to catch up with him. 

Quincy seems to hear him anyway. “Okay, hey, heyheyhey, okay, that is perfectly fine. I’m here, alright? I’m here to help you feel better.” 

Ever so gently, Quincy eases himself behind Cal, so that his back is supported by Quincy’s chest rather than the hard base of the kitchen counter. Equally gently, his arms wind around Cal’s waist, both hands coming to rest on his abused stomach. He applies pressure to the bloated space between Cal’s navel and his ribs, rubbing in broad, gentle strokes, almost immediately ushering up a deep belch that has Cal going slack with the smallest but most welcome measure of relief. Quincy is so damn warm, and his rough palm is heaven where it rests on his lower belly, supporting the bloat from below to take the strain off of his overfull stomach. His other hand moves from that space in the middle of his abdomen to his stomach, the noticeable overfull bulge where the organ ought to be, rubbing in gentle circles. The pressure is almost too much and Cal shifts to tell him so, succeeding only in ushering up several more rumbling belches, one right after the other, left gasping with the relief of it. He is still painfully aware of how full he is, packed utterly to the brim with food, but the release of trapped air is so needed and so lovely. 

Quincy holds him like this for a while, coaxing up the occasional belch, paying extra attention to the twinges that make Cal groan with nausea. Cal finds his eyes watering again, this time with sheer gratitude for his dearest friends, for their kindness, for the quiet lack of judgement Quincy exhibits as he rubs his aching tummy. Eventually, Cal feels like he might be able to move without throwing up, and Quincy supports his weight with an arm around his waist as they make their way to Cal’s bedroom. 

“I’ll be right back,” Quincy says after depositing Cal on the bed gently. “Amy said you’d want a hoodie and some shorts. How did she do?”  

Cal smiles a little sadly, having trouble finding his voice, and Quincy barely misses a beat, busying himself retrieving one of Cal’s biggest hoodies and a soft pair of pajama shorts. “Either way, let’s give it a try. You should probably take your binder off--all that squeezing can’t be helping, and no wonder you’re shivering in those wet jeans!” He ducks into Cal’s bathroom for a moment, filling up the cup next to the sink with cold water from the tap, and offers it to Cal, making sure his shaking hands don’t cause a spill before he lets go. “Try to take some sips of that, okay? Trust me. We need to break up all that sugar.” 

Cal can’t argue with that, nodding, and waits until Quincy lets the door swing mostly-shut behind him, taking the deepest breath he can manage. His stomach twinges as he bends over to put the water on his nightstand and lifts his arms to pull off his shirt. wriggling out of his binder, and he pants for a moment as the sudden release of pressure on his stomach causes the nausea to flare before it thankfully passes again. He puts on the hoodie, immediately comforted by the billowing fabric, and wriggles out of his jeans and into the pajama shorts as quickly as he can manage, forcing himself to take a measured sip of water. His stomach tightens around it, and he swallows hard. 

“Hey,” Quincy says softly, knocking twice on the slightly-ajar door before pushing it completely open with his elbow. His hands are occupied with a tv tray, carrying a heating pad and a steaming mug of tea.  “Don’t force it. You’re still very full.” 

“Y-yeah,” Cal manages, finding his voice. “Tummy really hurts.” 

“I know,” Quincy murmurs apologetically, offering Cal the heating pad. Cal practically melts when the heat makes contact with his sore belly, instantly beginning to soothe his cramping muscles, even working its magic on the fullness, just a little. “I’m sorry you’re hurting, Cal. I know you’re very full, but when you can, you should try to drink some water and this tea. It’s peppermint, so it should help with the nausea.” 

Flicking off the overheard light in lieu of Cal’s carefully-hung string lights, Quincy leaves the mug of tea on the bedside table closest to Cal, spreading the quilt at the foot of the bed over him, and Cal instinctively lets his head drop onto Quincy’s shoulder when he climbs onto the bed beside him. 

Cal nearly weeps again when Quincy reaches  for his bloated tummy without being asked, resuming a soothing pattern, rubbing wide, sweeping circles over his abdomen, applying pressure to the bloated place beneath his ribs, to his tense sides, to the hard knot of his stomach. Each instance of carefully-applied pressure coaxes up a series of rumbling belches that Cal didn’t realize he was holding in, eventually freeing up enough room for him to sip at the tea. 

“Amy will be home soon,” Quincy says after several moments. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like an idiot who stuffed my face with sweets all afternoon,” Cal mumbles, still wrestling with guilt, and Quincy frowns as his belly emits an audible squelch, smoothing a hand over it in slow arcs. Cal drinks a bit more deeply at the tea, unable to withhold a sigh of relief as it begins to fill the burbly places in his tummy, blissfully soothing the ache. 

“You aren’t an idiot, Cal,” Quincy says sincerely. “Amy says this sometimes happens when you get overwhelmed. You’re overwhelmed.” 

Something about the sincerity in his voice makes something big and terrifying shift in Cal’s chest, and he abruptly puts down the mug of tea in favor of hiding his face in Quincy’s chest, narrow frame wracked with tired sobs. He dimly registers that at least his stomach doesn’t react poorly to the movement. “I am,” he manages eventually, as Quincy gently shushes him, stroking his belly as though to keep it calm. “I am so exhausted, Quince.” 

“So rest,” Quincy says simply, “at least for now. And when Amy gets here, we’ll talk about what we’re going to do next. Okay?” 

Cal sniffs, nodding, still hiding his face, and Quincy lets him, simply bringing his arms around him, smoothing his hands over Cal’s back. Against all odds, particularly the still-overpowering sense of fullness, Cal feels his eyelids drooping. All of a sudden, everything has caught up with him, and he can barely form a coherent thought. It has been a day, his belly is now more warm than upset, and Quincy is a very, very comfortable pillow. 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Quincy says, and Cal feels the rumble of his chest as he gives a low chuckle, too far gone at this point to respond. He’s going to have a lot to explain when he wakes up, but for now…

For now, Cal lays with his head on Quincy’s shoulder, arms looped around his neck, and Quincy pulls the quilt up around them. “I’ve got you,” Quincy murmurs, and the next thing Cal knows is blessed sleep.