#In conclusion at some point the stuttering will end

[harfanfare]

I like to think that romance with Idia widely differs depending on the time you’ve been in a romantic relationship.

1. “Just started dating” stage.

If you're reading Idia fanfiction, there is an 80% chance this is the stage your relationship is on.

Idia is… treating you like a very precious stranger. He's on his toes and seeks your approval in whatever he's doing. He is going to great lengths to understand the theory of dating and your hobbies - so you can maybe share even more interests - but won’t really act on anything.

He’s constantly surprised by every romantic move you make and you have numerous occasions to adore his cherry blush and various puckles of hair igniting with pink and red. He stutters a lot and can’t focus on anything in your presence.

Idia will outright reject any suggestions for bolder moves. He’s unprepared, and although guilt is eating him from the inside, he is not up to anything you two weren’t doing as friends. Well, maybe handholding, kissing, and cuddling get a (hard) pass, but you are the only one initiating these things.

He will try his best to reciprocate effort, though.

2. “Have been dating for a while” stage.

It’s an interphase between two very different stages, so he’s a funny mix: a very shy outsider and a cocky genius at the same time.

Gaming sessions will be the centre of your couple's time. Idia regularly invites you to his dorm, sometimes even on spontaneous sessions when a new event comes up or he has found a new game that looks very cool. You share snacks, drinks, and clothes (read: you have unwritten permission to claim his blouses).

This boy would be dead without you and Ortho, and with that knowledge, you make it your mission to (somehow) tidy up his room, buy some cosmetics, healthier food, etc. If you are up to organizing a “self-care evening”, he will be hesitant at first but will be looking forward to it after a while, with some older anime. (I like to think it would be a magical girl series like Sailor Moon, Tokyo Mew Mew or Chobits, or some shoujo).

In exchange, he might construct some little gadgets (maybe anime-themed?) for you, helps you get the merch you want, and supports you in your games.

At this point, he doesn’t weigh his words much. He’s still easy to fluster, but he comes with comebacks right away. The most flirty he gets on the phone when it’s late at night and you are using a chat to talk, especially when you are not in the same room. 3. Long-term relationship stage.

He knows you are doomed to him and shamelessly takes advantage of that.

He has no claims against calling you in the middle of the night to watch him sharing his screen when he pulls for a character he wants to get in the gacha system. He believes your presence brings him luck, so he must have you when he does crucial things!

Idia disses your taste in fictional men. Sometimes, he reads the dialogues out loud from the otome games you play. He may alter them, which can make you either huff or laugh. If you read or write fanfiction, he might read them too, giving you an out loud commentary on some fragments and asking you if you are that desperate for dates so you are sending fanfiction to inspire him. If you say yes, he will hum and return to whatever he was doing before, but he might plan something out that you will preferably be able to do in his room.

Chatroom with him and Ortho is quite calm, almost polite, but your private chatroom with Idia is the most chaotic one you’ve ever been. You learned to not leave your phone openly if you don’t want to explain some inside joke with a layered backstory. An app you use to chat with Idia is the one your screen time is counted on most, and writing with Idia is your guilty pleasure.

If you are interested in IT, he might program you an app or something to help you with it! He will give you the best feedback ever, and although it may be harsh, the last thing he wants is to discourage you from learning further.

On one anniversary of your dating, he will gift you this kind of couple bracelet which lights up if the other person touches it. He created them himself. When he receives signals throughout the day, he thinks of them as a promise from you, that no distance can sever your bond.

If you bring up some serious talk, you will be bullied with memes. It’s Idia’s coping mechanism. He will plan his future with you, don’t worry, but wait for him to muster up the courage to get on one knee and ask the question.

[luvring]

UNIVERSITY WITH AKAASHI

gn!reader | no more posts set in high school!! time for everyone to grow up! /j

university student akaashi who you meet in an english/writing course. he stands in front of your spot and nervously fiddles with the sleeves of his jacket, hoping you notice him and look up. "um," he hesitates. "is anyone sitting next to you?"

maybe it's because he's just so pretty, but you think it's cute how he visibly relaxes when you shake your head and move to let him sit beside you.

university student akaashi who quickly becomes your go-to classmate after being paired for icebreakers and luckily exchanging contact info during your first class. you think it's too early to call him your friend, but he softly laughs at your explanation during two truths and one lie, and you hope that title will come easier by the end of the semester.

akaashi who, after a week, finally gains the courage to ask if you're busy after class today. a sequel he's been anticipating is supposed to be in stock now, and if you'd like to join him on a bookstore trip, he'd like the company. you, of course, agree, and he smiles and softly says, "thanks."

you ask him to explain the plot on your trip there and he's embarrassed, stumbling over his words and having to backtrack to explain lore, but happy nonetheless. he's going in-depth about his favourite character's development by the time you reach the store, and you don't think you'd ever have it in you to stop him from talking.

you wonder if it would be weirder if you looked for a copy of the first book yourself.

akaashi who always seems to have some sort of caffeinated drink when he walks into the afternoon class. he says he's tired by lunch time and it'll keep him awake. you nod. "what's life but treating yourself every once in a while?"

he snickers, even if he's making fun of himself when he asks, "you mean every day?"

"obviously. uni's hard, we deserve it," you tease with a nudge to his shoulder.

the next class, he's bought you a snack you mentioned enjoying. he fiddles with his straw, stirring the ice inside his cup while your face heats up. he repeats your words from a couple days before, "you deserve it."

akaashi who knows you despise the idea of peer reviews and having to read feedback. it's why you let out a breath of relief when the professor tells you you can choose your partner, and by the time you turn, keiji's already looking at you.

you quadruple check everything before sending the document, and take 30 minutes alongside coaxing texts from keiji himself before you manage to open the edited version the day after.

it takes you a second to realize, but your breath hitches when you do. he's taken the time to make a copy of his feedback with little compliments and doodles of him, like one doing a thumbs up next to a "great point :)", another clapping beside your conclusion saying "you did it :-) !", and one sitting on top of a paragraph just to make you smile.

when you thank him the next day, your face is warm, and his face is red. your eyes flicker over to him playing with the hair by his ear while he promises he'd do it again any time you needed.

akaashi who you've come to find out isn't just the quiet, pretty, smart guy in class. he's also the guy you often find yourself on call with at 11pm, hair messy and glasses drooping on his nose. he apologizes for his state and the fact that he's wearing a shirt with a sort of shitty collage of low quality cat images, and you’re barely holding in your laugh while you shake your head and reassure him it's fine.

you have to tell him to at least add something to the noodles he keeps eating during exam week, and threaten to block him when he teases you for the incoherent questions you stutter out at 1am. in return he checks on you when he sees you listening to your sad playlist, and lets you see the other shirts he's gotten over the past couple of years.

you beg him to tell you where he found the one of an english setter with "dog setter" written on it, and he asks why you want to copy him.

"i just...love your style so much, keiji. it's so bold and creative—camp, even."

and keiji laughs, really laughs, trying and failing to cover his mouth with the back of his hand. even with his smile covered, you watch his eyes crinkle and can't help but secretly raise your headphones' volume, just a little.

"yeah, okay, thanks." he laughs a little one more time. "if you do well on your exam, i'll bring it the next time we meet up so you can try it," he offers with an amused smile.

"really? you'd let me have the honour?"

keiji rolls his eyes and leans back into his chair, tilting his head while looking at you. he runs his fingers through his hair and it's really more attractive than it should be.

"yeah, of course," he promises.

it's a silly shirt, and a silly idea, but your heart rate quickens just a little at the thought of him sharing his clothes.

and keiji is glad you can't see his other hand fiddling with the bottom hem of his shirt, because secretly, he feels the same way, too.

sorry for the Blatant projection when i said u don't like reading feedback. that's actually just me. it's bad. whatever. this was actually fun OMG i love akaashi and hate uni fr . we as a community must talk abt charas in uni more. Please. for my happiness.

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[katherines-imagines]

“Stupid bitches, be stupid bitches.”

pairings: hazel callahan x reader

warnings: angst, fighting, mean PJ, bad writing

summary: PJ starts yelling at Hazel, but her girlfriends not having it.

A meeting was called for the fight club after their revenge on Jef. As the girls started coming in, each had a mischievous yet proud smile adorning their faces. Y/N walked towards the back where her girlfriend, Hazel, was saving a seat for her. Sitting down, Y/N took Hazel’s hand into her own, playing with her silver rings. When everyone arrived, PJ began to speak.

“Alright, well, some of us clearly have a different definition of egging.” The girls gave each other knowing looks. “But if we keep our mouth shut, stay calm, we’ll be fine,” PJ finished.

“They’re gonna shut us down, aren’t they,” Sylvie asked sadly.

“What,” PJ laughed nervously. “No, we don’t know that. Why-”

“Principal Meyers will believe whatever Jeff and Tim say,” Brittany pointed out. “I don’t really see how we recover from this.” She was right, and all the girls knew it. As much as they could hope that the club would continue, after their little stunt, the club would be shut down.

“Man. Fuck,” Sylvie sad dejectedly.

“It’s been real guys,” Hazel said, looking bittersweetly to the group. Her girlfriend lovingly tracing her hands, nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” PJ interrupted. “Let’s not jump to conclusions with the, goodbyes,” she waved her arms around.

“I’m gonna miss you guys so much,” Hazel said, ignoring PJ. Y/N’s heart felt heavy from the break up for the group. These were her friends. This was her safe space. Now it would end, but she didn’t regret joining at all, and that made it all the more bittersweet.

“I’m like,” Sylvie started while standing up. “At least we went out with a bang,” Sylvie referred to the bomb Hazel made, causing the group to laugh sans PJ and Josie. “I mean, that was fucking insane!” The group laughed louder. “It’s just like, fire, everywhere” she continued, playfully hitting the girls.

“Wait, wh, stop,” PJ stuttered. “We don’t, wait, no, we don’t know that for sure,” PJ tried to deny, but the girls had already accepted it.

“PJ,” Annie stopped her with a sad smile. “Don’t be sad it’s over. Be happy it happened,” she smiled towards the fight club members, them smiling back.

“Alright, can everyone calm the fuck down please,” PJ said exasperatingly. “The club is not over, Josie? Right?” PJ motioned to her best friend, a hand motioning in her direction. Josie kept silent, PJ turning in disbelief at the lack of answer.

“No matter what,” Isabel started. “This club has brought me so much. I feel..” She took a deep breath before continuing. “So much more powerful, and, protected.”

“Me too,” Josie agreed, eyes showing vulnerability like the rest of the girls. PJ let out a sarcastic laugh

“Great,” PJ said. Hazel, tired of her attitude, interrupted her.

“Oh my god PJ, okay,” Hazel stood abruptly, her hand leaving Y/N’s grasp, causing her to jump at the sudden movement. “I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted out of this group, but I think the rest of us did.” She motioned towards the girls with a smile.

“Oh,” PJ spoke sarcastically. “Good for fucking you Hazel.” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, not liking how PJ was speaking to her girlfriend. “I’m glad that you finally wrote one email. Accomplished a lot.”

“I actually did, I practically ran this club for you and Josie,” Hazel said frustratedly. Y/N nodded harshly in support.

“Let’s calm down, maybe,” Josie said, trying to deescalate the situation, but it was too late for that.

“You really think that your the reason that we have this club,” PJ asked rudely.

“The reason? No, but I can tell everyone that if you want,” Hazel shot back. The girls heads snapped to Hazel at the comment, none of them expecting Hazel to have a mean bone in her body. Y/N stood up next to her girlfriend, hand going to the small of her back in support. As much as Y/N wanted to tear PJ a new one, she knew that Hazel had to do this part, at least, by herself.

“Hazel, uh hey, let’s calm down,” Josie said to Hazel. Y/N glared at Josie. Clearly PJ was the one who needed to calm down, not Hazel.

“You’re really ungrateful,” PJ snapped at her. “You’re so lucky that we even let you be a part of this.” How dare PJ try and glorify herself?

“PJ, your a liar.” A silence followed after Hazel’s retort, eyes turning to PJ for an explanation. PJ scoffed in disbelief.

“Yeah, well,” PJ started. Y/N had a feeling that the next few words that would come out of PJ’s mouth would make Y/N’s patience snap. “You have no friends, and a skank as a mom, so,” PJ smiled maliciously, as Josie looked at her feet. As the girls stared quietly, Y/N yelled at PJ.

“How dare you say that? She has friends, and you have no right so say something so atrocious to her,” Y/N said angrily, while Hazel stared in disbelief at PJ. Before Y/N could continue, Hazel looked at her friends in pain before picking up her stuff. Y/N followed Hazel’s lead, picking up her and her girlfriend’s stuff before following Hazel down the bleachers. Before leaving the gym, Y/N went to PJ’s face and spoke coldly, “If you every say shit like that again, I’ll fuck you up. Don’t you ever, disrespect her.” Shoving PJ with her shoulder, Y/N followed Hazel out the gym. While the rest of the girls watched them leave, Josie calling out for Hazel. When Y/N caught up to Hazel’s fast walking, she stayed quite. After a few minutes of walking quietly, Hazel spoke softly.

“What did you say, hun,” Y/N asked softly, not hearing what Hazel had said.

“Could you please hold my hand,” she shakily asked, quiet tears streaming down her face. Instead of answering, Y/N simply took Hazel’s hand in her own, comfortingly rubbing her thumb across her girlfriend’s hand. They walked in silence before Y/N spoke up.

“She’s a bitch.” Hazel let out a startled laugh of disbelief. “And not even a good one like me,” Y/N added, hesitantly looking at Hazel to see if it was ok to talk. Hazel laughed quietly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Y/N stopped the pair, Hazel looking curiously for the reason why. Y/N dropped their bags and took of her jacket, using the sleeve to wipe Hazel’s tears before putting it on Hazel. When Y/N picked up their bags, she took Hazel’s hand and continued to walk. “Don’t listen to her Haze. You know what they say about girls like her?” Y/N waiting until Hazel hummed in question.

“Stupid bitches, be stupid bitches.”

Hazel laughed loudly, hugging Y/N’s arm to stop her from falling.

“Y/N,” Hazel laughed.

“Hazel,” Y/N responded seriously. Well, semi-seriously. She couldn’t help the small smile growing on her mouth. Sighing gratefully, Hazel tugged on Y/N’s arm to stop.

“Thank you, love,” Hazel said, looking into Y/N’s eyes with love. Y/N swore she could feel her heart melt, warmth filling her up.

“Of course, pretty girl,” Y/N spoke softly, hugging her girlfriend tightly. Y/N was not going to let PJ get away with this.

No one spoke to her girl like that.

a/n: first imagine since I came back! if you have any requests from any fandom, please let me know. if I know the fandom, I will try and do it! Hope you guys like this one as much as I did.

[just-a-creep-babe]

A Demon’s Ache — Part 17

Eyeless Jack x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Commissioned by @cookiereblogss — thank you infinitely for your support 🫶 💗💞💗

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

As soon as he gets back, he ends up at your door

It’s instincts—it’s hormones and longing and obsession—like he’s just a mere puppet on the strings of your whims

His heart’s pounding in his chest as he waits there, in front of the familiar well-worn wood of your door, and for a minute, he almost wonders if you’re going to answer

His fingers drum against his thigh while his mind races back to the most recent list of events that happened between the both of you

You agreed to let Hoodie watch in order to help Jack out of the favor, rejected his kiss not too long after that, and then you sent him nudes, of all things, while he was away

Trying to sort through the complications of mixed messages and tangled feelings leads him to two plausible conclusions

One; you really aren’t interested in anything but sex with him, and every time he inadvertently pushes for more, it forces you to pull away

Two; you’re secretly just as madly in love with him as he is with you, but for some cosmic reasoning beyond his understanding, something’s stopping you from being with him

Despite how much he wishes the latter was true, he knows the former is the more likely scenario

It’s been that way since the very beginning, but he’s too much of a lovesick puppy to hold himself back from always trying for more

He needs better impulse control

Even now, as he waits for you to answer, he wonders if he’s pushing things yet again

He’s just here for sex, he reminds himself, he’s been away for a while and now he’s needy, and you probably are too, and even though it’d be better for him to wait for you to come to him, he’s just too fucking eager

And if you, for some reason, outright reject him yet again, he figures he can use the opportunity to sit down and establish better ground rules with you

He’s waited long enough to figure out what you want—you might as well just tell him at this point

When you open the door, he almost doesn’t know what to expect—he never does

But it’s like as soon as you see him, you just know

You let him in without a word, and as soon as the door clicks shut behind him, his mind goes blank

He forgets all about the two conclusions he reached, forgets about his worries about being pushy, forgets about wanting to establish an agreement—he forgets everything

All he can focus on is your lips busying themselves against his, your body in his hands and the scent of your lust and adrenaline filing the room

The whole thing is familiar

The taste of your tongue, the warmth of your skin, the way your breath stutters and your pulse jumps every time he squeezes you just a tad harder than he meant to—he’s lucky enough to have experienced it all before

But even despite the familiarity of it, it doesn't stop the pure rush of heat traveling to his groin

It's like it's just never enough

He's desperate for your touch, desperate for anything and everything you have to offer

The way your smaller body clings to his, the way your hands mimic his own eagerness—fuck, he's missed you

You release something like a quiet whimper against him and a growl tears through his chest before he can stop it

He yanks on the loops of your jeans, forcing you to grind against his hard-on, and when you whimper again, he almost rips your clothes off right then and there

You reach up to tug him closer into you, your fingers scratching at his scalp, pulling at the dark strands of his hair as if the few inches between you are too much to bear

It's like you want him pressing harder into you, like you're as insatiable for him as he is for you

In the heat of the moment, nothing else matters

The on-and-off signals, the ever-indecipherable code of mixed messages that he can never fully crack—right now, with your body held so tightly up against his own, he doesn't care about any of it

All he cares about is touching you, gripping and groping at your soft, malleable flesh to coax those perfect little sounds from your lips

More

He wants more

You weigh practically nothing as he picks you up, and it brings him a special kind of satisfaction when you yelp and wrap your legs around his hips for support

He's the only thing you can cling on to

He has all the power right now

Hands on your thighs, he bounces you up and down his form, using your own weight as leverage to rub you against his bulge

The friction is heady, already bordering on euphoric, and he hasn't even gotten you naked yet

When he snaps his hips up in tandem, the yelp you release grants him the perfect opportunity to force his tongue down your throat

Your taste is divine

He swears you were made for him, he swears your body was meant to be his

He loses track of his thoughts yet again, unable to focus or think about anything else except you

Your hands mimic his excitement and impatience as you pull and tug at him, trying to scratch lines into him like you're trying to mark him

It should be him trying to mark you

Amidst all the pulling and tugging, somewhere at the back of his mind, it registers that his mask slips off and falls to the floor with a heavy thunk, but he's too lost in your pleasure to care

Instead, he walks forward, secures you against him with a hand on your lower back, and then he lowers you to the bed, caging you between his body and the mattress beneath you

You're trapped, with nowhere to evade him

He could basically do anything he wants to you; you're completely at his mercy

At the mercy of a demon

Your clothes come off quickly and easily, his deft fingers impatient to get you bare already

And fuck, the sight of you naked is never something he could get used to

You're glowing; skin wonderfully soft, chest heaving up and down with panted breaths, your bruised lips parted with that perfectly desperate look in your eyes

He wants to ruin you

He's going to ruin you

He yanks his own shirt off his head, pops the buttons of his jeans open, then kicks his pants and boxers all the way off

He doesn't miss the way you greedily drink up the sight of him as you lay there, need clear in your eyes with the scent of your arousal filling the room

He teases a hand along his shaft, and his cock twitches in response

"Like what you're looking at, little morsel?~"

You whine his name at the taunt, and he nearly snarls as another fresh wave of your arousal perfumes the air

He wraps a hand around your ankle, yanks you toward him, then splits your legs apart to fit between them

You're a mess of slick

You're practically dripping

It's coating your inner thighs, glistening wet against your skin, and if he wasn't so impatient right now, he'd take the time to taste you

He'd eat you out all night long if he could

But right now, his dick's throbbing and you keep squirming and whimpering, and all he wants is to push himself balls-deep into your perfectly inviting little cunt

He presses the tip of his drooling cock to your entrance, gliding it up and down your perfect slit, and then he’s slowly thrusting all the way in

It’s almost too much

Your walls tighten around him, trying to swallow him in deeper, and when he shifts slightly, trying to get used to the way you're milking him, you gasp, reaching up to dig your nails into his skin, and he realizes he's already hit your most sensitive spot

He releases a low breath, trying to steady himself, trying to clear the haze of his instincts threatening to overtake him

You're a trembling, squirming wreck beneath him, and if he didn't know any better, he'd think you keep trying to grind him into your G-spot

He reaches up, resting one hand next to your head to support himself, and with his other hand, he grips the flesh of your thighs to force you still

He needs to adjust

He needs to adjust to how wet you are, how you keep clenching and pulsing around him or he's going to fucking lose it

But as if you just can't help it, it doesn't stop you from squirming, doesn't stop you from moaning his name like you're just begging for him to snap

An involuntary push of his hips forward, and you cry out, back arching as your hands fly up to rake down his back

Your thighs cinch around his waist, effectively trapping him inside you, and he honestly doesn't know how much longer he can hold back anymore

Slowly

He needs to do this slowly or he will lose it

In and out, in and out, he drags the length of his cock through your velvety walls

He can feel every inch of you, every perfect detail of your body molding and wrapping around him like it was made for him

He groans out your name, dick throbbing inside you, and the way you beg for more has him burying his face into the crook of your neck to muffle yet another groan

Your body's too perfect

You're too perfect

He's never hungered so deeply for someone like this before

He feels like a ravenous dog

He pulls out, inch by inch, your gummy walls tightening, and when he tries to say your name again, all that comes out is a demonic snarl

"J-Jack!~ Need more—n-need you to breed me~"

He snaps

It's like what you said and the way you said it triggers him beyond his own comprehension of himself

He loses control of his hips, loses control of what little shreds of humanity he has left, and he lets loose

The bed creaks, headboard slamming into the wall as your smaller form bounces with every impact

Your eyes screw shut, brows furrowing as a silent scream escapes you

Your hands dig into his skin, and if he was still human, you’d undoubtedly be drawing blood

But all it does to his thick skin is merely tickle

Still, the idea that you’re so much weaker than him only fuels him even more

He loses track of the pace he set, loses track of your obscene moans and cries as one word repeats itself over and over again in his lust-drunk mind

Breed

Some other inhuman sound escapes him, followed by the sound of something ripping, and he realizes he’s clawing at the sheets so hard they’re tearing

You’re shaking and writhing beneath him, your skin soft and wonderfully malleable for him to bruise

The sound of your cries overwhelms the sound of skin slapping against skin, and you clench around him, cunt gushing, soaking him with your arousal

He thinks you might’ve squirted—you’re fucking drenched—but his head’s too foggy, too lost in the sheer bliss of your body to really know for certain

All he’s sure of is that you came, or maybe you’re still cuming, because your whole body’s shaking and your legs are wrapped so tightly around him that he doesn’t know if you’re trying to pull him in or push him out

But even despite your obvious overstimulation, he can’t stop

He can’t stop pounding into you, can’t stop the rapid, ravenous pace he’s fucking into you

You’re his

Instincts purely in control, he pushes your legs up, forcing you into a mating press, and the shift in angle has him throbbing in your velvety walls

You babble out a slew of incoherent sentences, your voice all whiny and desperate between choked sobs and broken whimpers

He doesn’t grant you the luxury of squirming; with your legs pressed up against your chest and your pretty little cunt all exposed to him, you’re completely at his mercy

He’s reduced you to just a fleshlite

“Jack—J-Jack, fuck!”

When he hears you cry out his name like that, it’s all it takes for him to snap all the way forwards, his cock twitching and throbbing, and with a low, dangerous snarl, he cums deep inside of you

“F-fuck!~”

You whimper out one final cuss, your head rolling back and eyes falling shut, and god, it’s basically like you’re just presenting yourself to him

His lips find purchase around your neck, tasting you, reveling in the way your throat feels against his tongue

You’re so perfect

One sloppy thrust after another has him pumping his cum as deep inside of you as he can fit it; he doesn’t want an ounce to go to waste

And then he stays there, fully sheathed inside you, before finally unlatching his lips from your throat

He’s still hard

If it were up to him, he’d go another round

Hell, he’d go for the whole night, if he could

But he knows that dazed look in your eyes means he’s completely fucked you out

He forces himself to be content with what he had, and then he’s pulling out, resisting the urge to split you open on his cock one last time just to make sure his cum really stays inside you

You snap your legs shut as soon as he pulls away, faint post-orgasm tremors still coursing through you in the aftermath of it all

He settles next to you, wrapping his arms around to pull you in, and you immediately nuzzle into him in response

It doesn’t take long for your breathing to slow, your poor little body utterly spent, and although he wants to stay awake so that he can watch over you, he finds himself dozing off without realizing it

Sunlight filters through the room the next morning

Jack blinks once, then twice, groggily pushing the fog of sleep from his mind

You’re as warm and soft as ever in his hold

You look so angelic—he swears you must be part angel

He reaches out, fingertips gently tracing over your delicate features

For a split second, he considers just biting the bullet and telling you that he loves you right then and there

You’re sleeping, so it’s not like you’d hear him or anything, and even if you did, you’d probably just dismiss it as a dream or something

He takes in a shaky breath, carefully absorbing every detail of your skin

And he’s about to say it, he really is, when suddenly, you shift slightly in your sleep, and that’s when he notices it

His heart drops

A knot curls in his stomach, stiff and heavy like a boulder, and cold hard dread fills his veins

No—no, there’s no way

There’s no way he did that

He holds his breath as he gently coaxes your head to the side to get a better view

Surely enough, it’s as clear as day

A dark bruise colors your neck, surrounded by the indents of his teeth like a flowery crown around it

He feels like he just might be sick

Repulsion lumps at the back of his throat

He doesn’t want to believe it, but the evidence is as clear as day before him

He marked you

[the-kr8tor]

Hello! Could I please request TTN Hobie and reader go back to Aunt Janet’s shop, when they are together again after reader comes back from LA, to buy some fabric for something that they are sewing? I would love to see her reaction of seeing them both together!

Have a lovely day/night!

🕊️anon

Yippee a TTN request!! Ly thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, talks of babies, TTN! Hobie and Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle series Masterlist

TTN oneshot Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The bell jingles as Hobie opens the door for you, strolling inside, practically skipping from all the happiness of being with him again, you wait for him to enter. He loops his arm around your waist almost immediately. The unabashed PDA would make anyone look away, but who cares? You're complete once again.

“What do you need again?” He asks, eyes roaming around, chin resting comfortably on your shoulder.

“If you stopped and actually listened to my chattering then you won't have to ask.” You say teasingly, a smirk playing on your lips.

“If you stopped snogging me while talking then I won't be so distracted, hmm?” Hobie rubs his chin on your shoulder in an effort to tickle you.

“It's not my fault you keep coming on to me.” Giggling, he scrunches up your face with his whole palm over your entire face, wiggling it playfully.

“If you two don't stop being all sweet there'll be ants all over my shop.” A familiar voice pipes up from behind the counter, making you pause and take off Hobie's hand from your face. “‘ello you two. Welcome back, sweetheart.”

“Auntie Janet!” You squeal, feet bouncing to get to her. Hugging her over the counter, you hold her at arm's length, grinning from ear to ear.

You've noticed the new glasses on her, she has aged a bit since you last saw each other but there's still that twinkle in her eyes whenever she smiles.

“Let me get a good look at you!” You awkwardly twirl around at her behest. She smiles widely.

“So?” You ask timidly.

“Good,” Janet nods approvingly. “You've taken care of yourself well? Ate? Went on walks?”

“I did, don't worry.”

“He taking good care of you then?” She gestures towards Hobie who peruses the shelves.

“He is. Too good in fact, he barely lets me out of his sight.” You joke. “I'm guessing he missed me a lot.”

Janet leans closer to you, whispering. “Don't tell him I told you this but he's a regular customer here.”

“He is?” You ask, feigning ignorance. You know of his vigilante activities, and unfortunately those activities usually end up with his suit cut to pieces or mangled up. It's the main reason why you're visiting, and to also visit Janet of course.

Your heart pounds loudly at the thought of Janet figuring out his secret identity.

“That he is, I think he's making his own clothes. That's how much he misses you. You know, do the activities you like so he feels like you're there with him”

You breathe a sigh of relief, not knowing what you would've said to her if she guessed correctly on why he needs so much fabric. With a giddy smile, you like her conclusion better.

“I'll– put that information to good use.” You stutter,

She nods, “use it wisely.” Winking, she straightens out when Hobie plops a roll of scaly green fabric on the counter.

“Oh is this for Terry?” You ask, hand automatically reaching for his jean back pocket.

Janet looks at you confused.

“Yeah, for patching him up.”

“Wait, do you have a kid? How long have you been home, Y/N?” She looks at you like you've betrayed her.

Before you could explain, Hobie takes the opportunity to tease the old woman.

He pats your stomach, “yeah, she had him a month ago and he's growing very fast, we need new clothes for him.”

You stifle a laugh, you'd tell her eventually but you want to see how Hobie's bit goes.

“A baby boy?!” She points at Hobie menacingly. “She gave birth a month ago and you're already letting her walk around?” Janet comes around the counter, cane at the ready. “Not to mention the fact you already knocked her up the minute she came back home!” She points at Hobie with her cane. “What kind of–”

Hobie shields himself with his arms, laughing loudly while Janet chastises him. Their voices echo out in the shop.

You watch Hobie defend himself from an old woman, smiling, your laughs match Hobie's. Maybe you'll tell Janet the truth once she calms down or else you might get the cane too.

[maoam]

is that true sasuke and karin fucked in canon? i saw some people spread this because suigetsu implied something happened between them in the past. i don't know the right translation of his line but most of translations imply whether karin did something to sasuke in the past or they did something together.  

these people say sasuke defends karin even though karin was the who punched suigetsu because they didn't want suigetsu to reveal some secret. when karin tries to get closer to sasuke he tells her to move back a little or looks nervous (because of her angry voice?) suigetsu also said that he and juugo would get in their way and that he likes to break them apart. it is also mentioned in some databook that suigetsu likes to interfere with the love of sasuke and karin, and that  what happened between sasuke and karin is a top secret. 

those people also discussed bites all over karin's body, assuming that they were left by sasuke and that she let him diging his teeth into her body (it is  also mentioned in databook). it is also mentioned by obito that karin is sasuke's favorite (lovers used to be considered favorites). in the scene where karin goes to sasuke when he was injured, she said a line that could mean sasuke wouldn't reject her.

naruto and suigetsu believed that sasuke could have slept with karin and suigetsu also said he didn't know sasuke can be such a bastard( those people use "pimp" but it's probably a mistranslation since the most common meaning of the used word in his line was "bastard" or "pile of trash". this word  also can mean "chad", but it's an uncommon meaning).  to sarada's questions about who her mother is, sasuke answered "it's none of your business". it could indicate that sasuke slept with both karin and sakura and simply did not know whose daughter sarada was.  

in their opinion, sk is the only ship where there is something erotic, other ships don't have this and for manga such hints are rare to mean this very thing. for some reason some people think that sasuke could rape karin and sakura, that's why they look so sad in gaiden lol. 

could kishimoto really leave these sexual hints and continue them in gaiden as an unrealized desire to bring karin and sasuke together? why did he never comment on that suigetsu's line? why did suigetsu even get the impression that karin and sasuke could be together? i mean there must be some sence to make him think like that and i beleive kishi wouldn't throw such stuff unintentionally. 

anyway, is sasuke really that kind of character who would have a sexual relationship with someone he doesn't love, who would use someone for sexual favors and then throw them away like an unnecessary tool (which is exactly what sasuke did to karin in the end)? and i know databooks aren't canon, but what is the scence to tease fans with such hints?

"The truth is, I know… A long time ago, you (did something) to/regarding Sasuke."

The line doesn't imply they did something together, but that Karin did something regarding Sasuke.

What an amazing jump through mental hoop to come to the conclusion that it means they had sex. Yes I'm sure they had sex at age 13. That's definitely what was Sasuke's priority when he came to Oro's place. But we have to remember the person who wrote the "meta" of Sasuke and Karin having sex also said Itachi was fucking multiple women at same age and also was being passed around by the council (the wording they used).

It was pretty easy to tell from their whole convo that Suigetsu was trying to piss Karin off. 'That's why you're always stuttering' etc. Sasuke isn't even phased, just a bit annoyed. Them quarreling is distracting from the mission.

This was just a bit before that moment of Karin slapping Suigetsu. As you can see Sasuke is a bit confused by Karin's behaviour. He also doesn't want to let her come too close. It should be OBVIOUS these two aren't in a sexual relationship, or relationship of any kind at this point. Come on now.

Databooks... aren't canon, once again. They are written by random people.

Suigetsu talks a lot of shit, he's a troll, yet it's treated as gospel. He finds Karin annoying so he wants to mess with her attempts to get together with Sasuke. Guess what, Oro constantly brings up how Sasuke is affected by Naruto. And Oro is a character who is very intelligent and perceptive. He never says/thinks Sasuke is affected by Karin. It's almost like Kishi wanted to point out how important Naruto is to Sasuke and how deep Sasuke's feelings lie, while he used Karin for comic relief most of the time.

Sasuke, who didn't even kill the men Orochimaru brought to him because of his good heart, sacrificed Karin, a teammate, for his revenge. That was his low point. It's really not hard to understand.

Oh my god... Obito's comment is about Karin's abilities, I have talked about this already. [link]

Suigetsu sure, because again he's a troll character. Naruto never implied Sasuke slept with Karin, he was just frustrated on what a mess the whole thing was. Which is why he said 'teme'. The whole goddamn Gaiden is making fun of both SS and SK and some people still don't see it...

"It could indicate that sasuke slept with both karin and sakura and simply did not know whose daughter sarada was."

I'm amazed some people understand Sasuke's character so little that they genuinely think he would do something like that. XD

"in their opinion, sk is the only ship where there is something erotic" wrong [link]

"could kishimoto really leave these sexual hints and continue them in gaiden as an unrealized desire to bring karin and sasuke together?"

No. Imagine thinking that after how Kishi made Sasuke stabbing Karin into comic relief soon after lol. He doesn't care about Karin enough to have any desire to bring her anywhere, especially not with Sasuke.

"for some reason some people think that sasuke could rape karin and sakura, that's why they look so sad in gaiden lol"

Again amazingly terrible mischaracterization especially when Sasuke has always rejected both Sakura and Karin and they have been the aggressors towards him.

"is sasuke really that kind of character who would have a sexual relationship with someone he doesn't love, who would use someone for sexual favors and then throw them away like an unnecessary tool"

No.

"is that true sasuke and karin fucked in canon?"

No. SK and Sasuke stans who are homophobic are just desperate to prove Sasuke wants to fuck women.

The scene of Karin hitting on Sasuke and Sasuke being confused and also telling her to back off, and these ones here, just show Sasuke does not see Karin that way. It's only Naruto he is comfortable with touching him, and the one he goes out of his way to touch even when there's no need to (like to save someone from falling).

The people giving these arguments are just delusional like SS, it can't be helped.

[lvis44]

Falling Through The Cracks // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x GF Reader

Warnings: Unplanned pregnancy, anxiety, NSFW 18+, language, vague mentions of abortion, angst, slightly rushed ending, not edited

Word Count: 4k+

Summary: Your life has been planned out, you and Lewis have always had a sense of direction, but sometimes the universe decides to set the course astray.

Notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for probably two months so I figured it was time. I'm not a professional writer and all of this is purely fiction. (BTW - YOUR BODY, YOUR CHOICE)

The plan was that you and Lewis would spend the week together in Antarctica, ringing in the new year with some of his friends. You had been so excited to finally be able to spend this time with him after being apart for the last few weeks, but as you stared down at the test in your hands, you knew there was no chance of you enjoying the trip. You refused to drop this news on him right before a time that he was supposed to finally be able to relax, you didn't even know how you were going to tell him.

You two have been dating for a little over a year, but are nowhere near settling down and starting a family. He’s still in the prime of his career and doing more outside of the sport than ever before. You’ve discussed the future with him, many times, cuddled in hotel beds in various countries. He has a plan, one that you daydream about frequently. Tears stream down your face as you sit on the bathroom floor, thinking about the last time you talked about your future together

*one month ago - Abu Dhabi*

He was curled over your back, panting in your ear, telling you just how good you were making him feel. It was a bad race, a fitting conclusion to an even worse season. The second he had you alone in the hotel room, he was on you. He had made you come undone more times than you could count, desperate to see you delirious, addicted to him. The second he was inside of you, the world stopped, time slowed down, the only thing that existed was him. Now, he held your body close, your bare back against his taught chest that heaved with every breath.

“One day, I’m gonna put a baby right here,” His hand slid down your front, holding your stomach possessively, “gonna fill you right up, make us a family. You like the sound’a that? Hmm?”

His raspy voice in your ear, making promises you knew he would keep, was what sent you over the edge the final time. Your ears were ringing as you felt him finish right behind you, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly close to him as his hips stuttered. His body melted on top of yours, still seated deep inside of you. You could feel him sponging soft kisses along your back and up your neck but you were far too out of it to reciprocate. At some point he got up, disconnecting himself from you. He cleaned you up before rolling you onto your side and slipping into the sheets next to you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him so he could place a kiss on your nose. 

“Did you mean it?” You asked him hesitantly, voice tired and hoarse.

“Mean what? That I’m gonna put a baby in you one day?” He asked, his tone soft and teasing.

All you could do was nod, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your hand.

Realizing that you were more serious than he thought, he pulled his head back slightly to get a better look at you. “Of course I mean it, want nothing more than to have a family with you. You know that, told you so many times.” He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face at his words, whispering a soft “I love you” against his lips.

“I love you - so - so - much,” He started, pecking around your face with every word “ and we’re gonna have the most beautiful, loved family in the world.” His hand found the back of your head, his fingers toying through your hair in the most soothing way. “When I retire, I’m gonna make you my wife, gonna be the best man I can possibly be. Finally have some proper time with you all to myself, no distractions, no race weekends looming in our future, just us. And when we’re both ready, I’m gonna do just like I said, gonna put a baby in you, start the next chapter with you.” His voice was getting sleepy, his hand on your head slowing slightly.

“Mmmm,” You sighed, sleep starting to taking you as well, “I can’t wait.”

“Just a few years baby, then I’m all yours, forever.” 

You fell asleep tangled together, dreaming about what it would be like, a few years from now and a ring on your finger. Blissfully unaware that he had made good on his promise much sooner than either of you were prepared for.

*Current*

You’re completely out of tears at this point, cried to the point of exhaustion, no idea how long you’ve been sitting on the bathroom floor. 

“How?” You croak out into the air, speaking to no-one, not even really sure what you are questioning.

How did it happen? How do you tell Lewis? How did you not know? Just… How? You have always been careful, you’ve been on birth control longer than you can even remember. You’ve never had an issue before, why now? 

You finally make your way out of the bathroom and into your bedroom, glad your roommate isn’t home to see you in this state. Seated at the foot of your bed, you stare at your phone. You have to tell him, you know you do, but you’re so scared what his reaction will be. After a long internal battle you decide that you need to be more settled into the news first, you can’t be this fragile when you tell him, you would simply break if you lost him right now. Instead you grab your laptop, opening the link to your trip itinerary. The cursor hovers over the cancel button for so long you think you might actually go on the trip. It’s not until you see a text from Lewis  come through that you finally do it, you cancel your ticket. 

Lew ♥️: can’t wait to see you sweetie, miss you so much

Another comes immediately after

Lew ♥️: tomorrow can’t come soon enough ♥️♥️

You just about feel your heart crack in half as you read his messages but you know you can’t be around him right now and you want him to have a good time. You feel your cheeks get wet again, your body finding a new source for this new sadness. You want to see him so bad, have his arms wrapped around you so tight you think he might crush you, but you can’t, you can’t do this to him right now. 

  miss you too ♥️

but babe, I'm so sorry. I cant go on the trip

I’m really not feeling well and I dont want to get you all sick :(

have an amazing time for me, I love you

You feel guilty as you hit send on the final text. You know if you call him your voice will give you away, he knows you too well. You close your laptop, throwing it to the side before burrowing under your covers, willing the world to go away, at least for a few hours.

***

Waking up the next day feels harder than ever before, your whole body hurts and your throat feels like you’ve never had a sip of water. It takes a while for you to will yourself up and out of bed. When you check your phone, you find it dead, it too not having the energy to face the day. After plugging your phone in, you make your way out to the living room, stopping dead in your tracks at the sight on your couch. Lewis. He’s asleep, still in the clothes he must have worn the day before, a small knit blanket from the back of the couch haphazardly thrown over him. You have no idea what to do as you stand there staring at the undeniably loving man. Why is he here? How is he here? He surely will have missed his flight at this point and you can’t help but feel guilty. He’s been looking forward to this trip for months, and now you have managed to screw it up for him. You want to make him go on the trip but you also can’t help but want him to hold you forever and tell you everything is okay. As you stand there staring at him you feel an overwhelming wave of nausea hit you. You make it to the bathroom with barely a second to spare.

Trying to regain yourself, you stay knelt on the cold tile, head hanging over the toilet and breathing heavy. As you regain your composure, you feel a warm hand on your back, thumb rubbing back and forth gently. You roll your head to peer over at him. He’s squatting next to you with a look of concern on his tired face.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear.

He shakes his head, his brow furrowing, “You have nothing to be sorry for hun. Can I get you anything? Water?”

If only he knew, you think. You have plenty to be sorry for but you have no idea how to tell him yet. You shake your head, slowly trying to get up from your spot on the floor. Lewis immediately rushes to help you, stabilizing you on your shaky legs. His face holds so much worry as his eyes search over you. He’s looking at you like you might just fall apart and it tears at your heart. He cares about you so much, he would do anything for you, and now you’re taking away his freedom. You look away from him quickly, knowing you will crumble if you look into his loving brown eyes. You pull away from him to reach for your toothbrush.

“Y/N,” He starts, coming up behind you and placing his hand on your waist, “sweetie, are you sure you don’t need anything? How long have you felt like this?”

You almost flinch away from his touch on your waist, scared he might notice something is different despite the fact that you know there isn't, not yet anyway. When you see yourself in the mirror you know why he’s so concerned. You look like you’ve been hit by a truck. Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying all night, dark circles standing out against your paled face. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, he’s studying you hard, trying to figure out what you won’t tell him.

“It’s okay, just a stomach thing,” you half lie with a shrug, “only started a few days ago.”

You finish brushing your teeth and leave him in the bathroom. He trails behind you quickly, seemingly not convinced with your answer. 

“Baby-” He starts, abruptly getting cut off by you.

“Lew, you should really head out, you probably already missed your flight but I’m sure you can get another.”

He stops in his tracks, looking at where you stand in the kitchen with a bemused look on his face, “Y/N, I’m not going if you’re here feeling like this. I’m not gonna leave you at home, sick, and go party in a different country.”

“No, really, it’s fine, you’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. I’m an adult, I can take care of myself. I was sick many times before I met you and I always managed just fine.” You dismiss him, trying to get him out of the apartment before you blurt out the news.

“Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to this trip with you, it’s not gonna be nearly the same without you,” He pauses, sighing before making his way towards you, “and yes I’m very sure you can take care of yourself. However, now you have me, and sometimes it’s nice to have someone who loves you around when you’re feeling like shit.”

You haven’t been able to look at him, trying to busy yourself with making a pot of tea, but now you can feel how close he’s gotten to you, his heat radiating onto you. Both of his hands land softly on your hips, gently turning you towards him. When you finally look at him he has a soft smile on his lips and his eyes are so full of love you could just about melt.

“Let me take care of you love.” His voice is quiet and reassuring and you can’t help but nod in defeat. He’s here because he loves you more than anything else and you were silly to think he would just leave you behind and go on the trip.

 His arms wrap around you gently, pulling you against his strong body where he places a tender kiss to your head. You sigh, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around him while burrowing your head into the crook of his neck. He smells like home, soft clean cologne and him, the indescribable musk of Lewis Hamilton. The smell of him alone has the power to make you both feral and a puddle of emotions. You place a soft kiss at the base of his neck, whispering a soft “thank you”.

“Always baby, it’s you and me against the world, right? So even if today the evil of the world is a stomach bug, I’ve got you. Forever and always.” He has a lightness to his tone that makes it sound so easy, so sure.

 You feel your chest tighten at his words, he has no idea how much you needed to hear him say that. It’s not until he pulls away to look you in the eye that you realize you’ve been silently crying into his shoulder. Tears slowly trickling down your face. His thumb comes to your cheek, gently wiping away the dampness, wordlessly questioning you. You don’t say a word, just let him pull you back into his chest, squeezing you harder. Lewis knows you well, and despite not knowing where your emotions are coming from at this moment, he knows you need him and his security. You need him wrapped around you like a blanket, there to protect you from the demons of the world. He gently picks you up, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. Slowly he makes his way back to the couch with you in his arms, laying down with you on top of him. His arms come around you tightly, holding you impossibly close to him. He doesn’t say a word, he doesn’t need to, stroking your back and placing soft kisses on your temple is enough to calm you down. His movements begin to slow and you can tell he’s drifting off, and so are you. You allow him to lull you into a calm slumber, safe in the arms of the man you love, pushing everything else in your mind to the side.

***

When you wake up you find yourself alone on the couch, the sun low in the sky out your windows. You see Lewis’s phone still on the coffee table, tapping the screen to see its past four pm, you’ve slept for nearly five hours. Why hasn’t Lewis woken you up? You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You find yourself feeling much better than you had before your nap. As you blink the bleariness from your eyes you see Lewis sitting at the island in your kitchen. His back is to you and you can see his laptop glowing on the other side. His focus however is not on the screen in front of him. His head is down with his hands on his head, rubbing back over his hair in frustration every once in a while. He’s changed out of his clothes, now in a matching sweat suit that makes him look even more cuddly than before. Pushing yourself up off the couch you pad your way over to him. You place your hand on his back and feel his shoulders tense before he lets out a long sigh. He still hasn’t looked at you as you wrap your arms around him, resting your chin on his shoulder. When you see the counter in front of him your heart just about stops. There in front of him sits your secret, the little test laid out in front of him with those two little lines screaming the truth. 

“Were you gonna tell me?” His voice comes out hoarse and you wonder if he’s been crying. He still hasn’t turned to face you.

“I- of course Lew, I just…” You trail off, shaking your head. You aren’t sure what you need to say or how you need to say it.

He gets up off the stool, brushing you off him in the process. You feel rejection run through your body but try to remind yourself that he's processing something. Something massive. Before you turn to face him you see his computer screen, the next seasons race schedule up. He walks towards the living room, stopping short and turning around. You can tell he’s not sure what to do, not sure what he wants to do. His eyes are red and you can tell he's been chewing his bottom lip.

“How did you find it?” You ask meekly, looking down to the ground.

He scoffs loudly, “How did I-, really?” He shakes his head looking almost amused, “That’s what you’re fucking worried about? I opened the trash can, a fantastic hiding spot, truly.” His voice is laced with sarcasm

“I’m sorry.” You plead quickly, walking toward him.

He walks further into the living room, you can tell he’s angry, the agitation is rolling off him like a looming storm, but you’re unsure what the anger is caused by. Is he mad that you didn’t tell him immediately? Is he mad that you're even pregnant in the first place?

“My girlfriend, the woman that I love, finds out she's pregnant, and her first reaction is to send me off across the fucking globe?” His voice is slightly louder now as he gestures out to the side of him, emphasizing his point.

“Lew, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You continue to plead, not knowing what to actually say.

“Yeah, you’ve said that,” He nods solemnly before pausing, “wait, fuck, is it not mine?”

Your eyes go wide and you can feel your heart go to your throat. How could he possibly think that?

“Are you serious?” You can feel yourself getting angry now, “Of course it’s yours Lewis, how dare you accuse me of that. You know I would never even look at another man. You’re it for me and you know it. Don’t ever accuse me of stepping out on you.” Your voice was getting louder the more you talked.

He grimaces and looks away from you for a moment, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I know, I know.” His voice is softer now as he makes his way closer to you but you can tell he’s still upset. “But really? You find out you’re pregnant, with my child, and you want me to leave for nearly a month? Y/N, it doesn’t make sense. What were you going to do?”

He sounds almost scared as he questions you and you know what he’s thinking. You can’t blame him, it makes sense after your previous actions.

“I don’t know Lew,” you tell him honestly, your voice cracking, “I have no fucking clue what to do. I’m terrified, I’m terrified that I’m gonna lose you or you’re going to resent me. But I also can’t imagine not doing this, like what if this is how it's supposed to be for me? I thought I needed some space but I really don’t know what I need or what I want.” You’re full on crying now, finally telling your boyfriend what’s going through your head. 

Lewis softens immediately hearing your words, he steps towards you, hastily taking you into his arms. He’s still upset with you, but he can’t bear to see you hurting like this.

“Hun, this is exactly why you should have told me.” He says into the top of your head, his hand stroking your hair gently in an attempt to calm you down, “We can figure this out together, we always do.” 

All you can do is nod into his now damp sweatshirt while you cling to the fabric over his chest as though he will slip away any second. Truth be told, you're scared he might.

He pulls away from you slightly, just enough to get you to look at him. “Y/N, I love you to death, there’s no one else for me, I’ve known that since the day I met you. I’m with you, but you have to talk to me, okay?” He pauses for a moment, placing a soft kiss on your forehead, “We’re gonna be okay no matter what.”

He parts from you, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for you to come sit with him. When you finally sit, you're too far away for his liking. He grabs you and gracefully places you right next to him, your legs over his lap.

“Now,” He starts, a soft reassuring smile on his face, “how are you truly feeling? Right now, right here.” He asks you, brushing a stray hair out of your face.

“Lost.” You answer simply, leaning into his touch.

He nods, taking a deep breath, “You know, no matter what you decide, I’ll support you, okay?”

You take a second, chewing your bottom lip as you contemplate where to go from here, “How are you feeling?” You throw the question back to him, needing to know where his head is.

“Not particularly important right now.” He states, dismissing you with a shake of his head.

“No, Lew, it is important, I need to know where you’re at just as much as you need to know where I am.” You state confidently, unsure where this sudden ability is coming from.

He smiles, “Honestly?”

You nod quickly urging him to continue.

“When I saw that test, the first thing I felt was pure, unhinged joy. I’ve always wanted this, more so than ever with you.” His smile is bright before turning serious, “But then I was so confused, I couldn’t figure out why you were hiding something so important from me. Then I was scared, I was worried about my schedule and not being there for you, I was worried about being a cause of stress for you.”

You listen to him, taking in the emotions that you’ve felt over the last few days mirrored in him.

“But baby, if this is something you want, I’m in this. I want it too, I always have. Maybe this isn’t exactly how we planned any of this, but things rarely go to plan in my life. We’ll figure out how to make this work, and we will start the most amazing family together, I’m sure of it. You would be the most incredible mother and I have always wanted to be the best father. We’re a team and I’ve got you, forever.”

By the end of his speech there are tears falling from the both of you. You are both coming to terms with a new and unexpected chapter of your relationship that has filled both of you with overwhelming joy. You have no words, only agreement so you do the only thing you can at this moment. You move to straddle his lap, now face to face with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on, the father of your unborn child. You take a second to admire the amazing soul in front of you as his arms wrap around you. You’re not sure who leans in first, but the second his lips are on yours, every doubt and fear leaves your mind. This is meant to be, whether you expected it or not. The kiss is hard and passionate, tears of happiness mixing together over your joined lips. When you come up for air, you are met with beautiful brown eyes, gleaming with happiness and love.

“I love you, more than anything in the world.” You whisper, not wanting to ruin the moment.

He leans in, leaving a soft kiss on your nose, then your lips, “And I love you, forever and always.”

You stay there for a moment before he gets a cheeky look on his face. He lifts you swiftly, laying you back on the couch as his hands go under your shirt, lifting it up to pepper kisses all along your belly. You can’t help but shriek, laughter erupting from the both of you.

“Now let me say hello to my other little love.”

You both have a million things you still need to figure out and discuss, but all of that is for later. Right now, you simply have no choice but to enjoy the incredible man littering your stomach with kisses and whispering proclamations of love and protection to your unborn baby.

[saintlike78]

The dungeon master’s pretty thing [E.M]

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Pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!shy!reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Eddie is pretty sure he’s ruining your reputation, but that’s okay because you’re ruining his right back.

Warnings: fluff and Eddie trying to be cool. There’s a NSFW bonus scene inspired by this song and edit, but it’s marked and doesn’t add anything to the ending, so you can totally read the sfw part and finish there. NSFW (16+) bonus scene includes oral (f receiving), fingering and mention of grinding against the bed.

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He was ruining your reputation - absolutely destroying it and he knew it. He could feel the judgemental stares of your fellow peers burning the back of his head and he knew you felt it too, he also knew that was why you dipped your head and looked the other way; not in shame, he had learnt, but in shyness and he adored you for it. But no matter how many stares the two of you acquired, he found it hard to give a fuck when he heard that sweet little giggle fall past your lips or the bashful dip of your head when he threw his arm over your shoulder and called you his girl in front of any poor soul who cared to listen. In fact, the thing that made him selfish enough to not care if you lost all of your friends because you spent most of your time with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson, was when your face visibly burned and your breathing stuttered, a sweet innocent look in your eyes - all because of a few simple words: “pretty girl”, “my pretty girl”, “pretty thing” and so on - actually just any sentence where him calling you pretty was a part of it - and he fucking loved it.

He had come to the shocking conclusion that it was better than weed and a cold beer; the way you tried shrinking in on yourself, tucking yourself into him to hide your face while murmuring shy little unintelligible things, well, fuck, it just did things to him he couldn’t explain. And if that meant that you lost all of your friends and had to spend all your time with him, he would call you the prettiest girl in the world every minute of every fucking day, so be it. 

.

“He’ll kill me… this is the second time this month,” Mike groaned, peeking through the double doors of the cafeteria keeping a close eye on the leader of the Hellfire club and his possible mood of the day. 

Dustin shrugged, ruffling through his backpack for the brown paper bag his mom so caringly had packed his lunch in, “you could’ve been more careful.” 

“More careful!? I wasn’t the one who messed up the experiment!” Mike raised his voice, shoving an accusing finger right in Dustin’s chest; happy that the loud noise of the cafeteria drowned out the sound of his voice. 

“Hey, what’s with the yelling?” 

Both boys turned around with wide eyes to see you staring at them with a raised brow. Mike exhaled in relief, startling you when his arms fell around you in a surprising hug, smushing your still playing headphones against your collarbone. 

“Y/n, thank god.” 

You stared at Dustin who only shrugged and readjusted his cap. You gave Mike’s back a light tap, “it’s nice to see you too, I guess.” 

Mike quickly jumped a foot backwards, realizing his little outburst was nothing but weird. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, muttering a small ‘sorry’. 

“Not that I didn’t enjoy that… greeting,” you laughed, clicking off your walkman, “but care to explain?” 

Mike’s face burned red as he pointed to his Hellfire club shirt, two large stains running down the front in red and blue, “we had a little accident in science," he said with a wince.  

“Oh… uhm, it looks very… patriotic,” you smiled, nibbling lightly on your lip to keep your laugh down. 

Mike groaned, stretching the shirt to look at it. Burying his face in his hands he groaned some more before pretending to cry on Dustin’s shoulder. 

“Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. Just ask Eddie for a new one… lord knows he has a stash of like a hundred under his bed,” you shrugged, looking past them into the cafeteria to spot the long-haired metalhead in his usual spot, speaking loudly and entertaining the members of his club around the table. 

“But this is the second one this month I’ve ruined! And Eddie said to guard the shirt with my life “or else”!” Mike groaned again. 

This time you couldn’t help but laugh, “Eddie always says stuff like that… he’s just trying to scare you. I’ve stolen those shirts from him more times than I can count and he never gets mad at me for it… he just grabs a new one.” 

“That’s easy for you to say! I don’t think Eddie could get mad at you even if he tried… me on the other hand, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need to try.” 

It was Dustin’s turn to groan, rustling the brown bag in his hand, “Mike! Let’s just go and get it over with, I’m hungry! Y/n goes in first and distracts him with a little wink and a twirl and he’ll forget all about it,” he explains, exaggerating a wink whilst pretending to fluff out his imaginary skirt. 

Your eyes do a full rotation before you’re pointing a finger at them both, “I’m not a part of this little plan of yours… but I promise it’ll be fine, he’s not as scary as he pretends to be…- don’t tell him I said that he’ll actually be mad at me if I ruin his reputation.” 

“If he kills me I’ll come back and haunt you,” Mike pointed a finger right back at you, letting you pass by him with another roll of your eyes and enter the cafeteria first with the two boys right on your heels. 

The usual lull in conversation fell over the table as you walked up, Eddie’s eyes instantly falling on you and his mouth clamping shut mid-sentence. Knowing that they now had lost the interest of their club master, the rest of the guys started a conversation of their own, inviting Mike and Dustin to slip into their seats unnoticed. You raised your hand and gave a small wave, weaving in between the tables to get to the head of the table where Eddie had risen from his seat. He stood, with his arms, spread wide and a large exaggerated grin on his face showing off all of his teeth and making his eyes disappear behind his cheeks.

“Hello there, sweetheart,” he greeted wrapping you up in a tight embrace as soon as you stepped into his arms.

“Hi,” you smiled back, feeling some of the air leave you from the tightness of the hug, but burying yourself further into him nevertheless.

He pulled away, only far enough to leave a long peck on your lips and then a small one on your forehead.

You were definitely also ruining his reputation.

“I got lunch for you,” he nodded his head towards the tray, stockpiled with food - way too much, but Eddie was not one to do things halfway.

“Thanks,” you smiled, leaning up to leave a kiss on his cheek in gratitude.

He let the tiniest of smirks graze his lips before he said, “anything for my pretty girl.”

Of course, you couldn’t help the heat that crept up your neck and warmed your face. Looking anywhere but his eyes, you focused on his hands, which only made it worse, so you zeroed in on his shirt, staring right in the face of the red devil. Eddie’s hand glided up to rest on your cheek, angling your face up, forcing you to meet his eyes and you found yourself melting even more at the sight.

After a long second of standing in complete silence to stare at each other like lovesick idiots, Eddie finally managed to move, offering you the chair he had been sitting on with a comically ungraceful bow.

“M’lady,” he drawled, pushing in the chair for you after you sat.

Within a moment he had managed to steal a chair from another table - not without complaints - and placed himself next to you, so close your thigh was pressed up against his jean-covered one and he could rest his arm on the back of your chair as you both ate.

The rest of the guys around the table were still going with their own conversation, trying their hardest to pretend they hadn’t witnessed all of the never-ending PDA between yourself and Eddie. It always shocked everyone, including the boys of the Hellfire Club, that Eddie managed to bag someone like you and that you were cool with being so public about it.

The guys liked you; you listened to what they said and pretended that it made sense to you. You weren’t one to judge, even though you had come from the popular crowd - which they of course found odd at first. You were sweet and what the hell you were doing with Eddie was what made the least sense.

Eddie traced his fingers gently from shoulder to shoulder, gliding his hand along the top of your back. He scratched along, letting his fingers dance across your clothed skin until they poked at your headphones still around your neck.

“You been listening to that mix tape I made you?”

You nodded your head, swallowing the bite of food in your mouth, “mmhm… but I still don’t think mixing Fleetwood Mac songs with your metal music is going to make me like it more,” you smiled apologetically.

Eddie held up his pointer finger with a determined look in his eyes, “ah, you’re wrong there, my sweet. Don’t they always say, if there’s a will there’s a way?”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, “whatever you say, Dr Seuss.”

His hand fell from playing with your headphones to your exposed thigh, the cool metal of his rings igniting goosebumps to form all around your body.

“You cold?” he asked knowingly, having told you that morning that it was too cold to wear a dress that short.

You huffed quietly, turning your head only the slightest to stare at his much too knowing face as he eyed your bare thighs and arms, “yeah… but I don’t want to hear anything about it, smarty pants.”

“So I’m a smarty pants now, huh?,” he laughed, trying his best to cover it with a cough when you gave him a look, “I wasn’t gonna say anything… I was only gonna offer you this,” he grinned, pointing to his leather jacket under his denim vest.

“…But if you don’t want to take it because I’m too much of a smarty pants, I totally get it,” he continued with one hand raised whilst the other still squeezed your thigh.

You rolled your eyes again for what felt like the millionth time that day, “I want it.”

Eddie just stared at you expectantly with one eyebrow raised.

“Yes, I want to borrow it… may I, please, Eds?” You caved, smiling sweetly as you always did at him, deciding to drop the attitude because you really were starting to freeze.

“Of course, you may, baby,” he grinned, smoothing back your loose flying hair, feeling his mind and body melt watching you lean into his touch.

The denim vest was discarded with quick movements, thrown on his lap carelessly as he let the leather fall from his arms and then draped gently over your shoulders, shielding you from the cold of Hawkins high.

“Better?” Eddie asked hopefully, having settled back into his chair with his denim vest on again.

“Much… thank you, baby.”

With a pleased smile, he let his hand find your thigh again, tuning back into the conversation around the table and adding his dramatic takes and opinions in typical loud Eddie fashion.

The conversation flowed, your ears tuned it out, letting you enjoy the white noise of the cafeteria and the loud voice of your boyfriend. You didn’t mind not being a part of the conversation and Eddie knew that - he felt a sort of contentment having you beside him where he could keep an eye on you and keep you safe.

“What’s on your shirt?” Eddie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts and the silence around the table was deafening as everyone zeroed in on Mike and his destroyed shirt.

Mike’s face was beet red, his eyes leaving Eddie’s questioning gaze to look at you. You gave him a slow nod, resting your hand on top of Eddie’s as a minimal distraction from roasting the poor freshman.

“Dustin and I had a little accident in science… so I was wondering if I maybe could get a new shirt?” Mike said wearily, eyeing Eddie’s reaction closely.

“This is how you guard your life?” Eddie raised a brow, “painting America over it?”

“I’m sorry, Eddie… I promise I’ll take better care of the next one,” Mike just about cried, trying to hide it with a very pained smile.

There was a long pause where Eddie just stared - trying to intimidate - but a small squeeze of your hand pulled him from his thoughts. His gaze fell to yours; you gave him a small smile along with a raise of your shoulders. Finally, Eddie let out a long sigh.

“I’ll bring you a new one tomorrow… BUT mark my words Wheeler that’ll be the last one.”

Mike nodded quickly, “yup, got it.”

And with that the conversation flowed again, except this time Eddie leaned in to speak closer to your ear, starting a conversation just for you.

“You’re still coming to mine later right?”

“Yeah… I’ll meet you at Hellfire after band practice,” you spoke back quietly.

Eddie smiled and nodded, “alright… and you’re still sure I’m not qualified for band?”

“I’m sure,” you laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder, “I don’t even get why you want to be in band… it’s not really your scene.”

He gave your thigh a squeeze, “well, you’re there… and I really believe this school needs a lesson or two about what real music is… preferably from me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” you grinned, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, “what would this school do without you?”

Eddie laughed, peppering kisses along your hairline, “I don’t even wanna imagine it.”

.

“Lucas, you need an 11 or above to beat it, don’t take that risk man!” Dustin squealed, shaking Lucas’ arm violently.

You crept into the room silently, noting the tense atmosphere around the table as Lucas debated what to do, looking at Eddie who wore a sly smirk.

“what’s life without a little risk?” Eddie spoke from his place on the throne, his chin in his hand as he observed the huddle of boys.

“You just want us to lose,” Mike rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

Eddie stood from his seat, “now why would I want my own players to lose my campaign?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE EVIL!… sorry, but you are” Dustin slammed his hands against the table,” don’t do it, Lucas!”

You chuckled to yourself quietly; you didn’t quite understand what was going on, but you did love the enthusiasm - and Eddie’s smug face was also not something to complain about. The leather jacket hanging over your frame smelt like him and it had been like a constant hug throughout the day, keeping you warm.

Shaking your head, you pulled your headphones over your ears whilst gliding down to the floor. The music that flowed through was one of the songs Eddie was trying to train you to enjoy, a Black Sabbath song; it wasn’t half bad, but you definitely preferred when right after that ‘The Chain’ by Fleetwood Mac started playing.

Not even five songs later your headphones were plucked from your head, surprising you. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes slipping shut, but when you opened them to find a smiling Eddie you couldn’t even pretend to be mad about the disturbance.

“You tired there, pretty girl?” he grinned, bending down to extend a hand to you.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, letting him pull you up. Right on queue, you let out a small yawn, making Eddie’s eyes soften.

He tucked you into his warm embrace, petting the back of your head softly, “I bet you are.”

“Was the campaign good?” your voice was muffled against his shirt, but he heard you nonetheless as he stood swaying with you in the empty club room.

“So good! These fuckers won’t even know what to expect next week for the grand finale,” Eddie replied enthusiastically, squeezing you just a bit tighter out of excitement.

You chuckled, squeezing him back around his middle and mumbling into his shirt, “I love it when you get all excited… it makes me happy.”

Eddie peppered kisses on the top of your head, his hand travelling up into your hair to scratch your scalp gently. His stomach was doing all sorts of flips, filling with a swarm of butterflies. If he wasn’t already head over heels in love with you he definitely would be now.

“You getting all soft on me now, huh?” he cooed, holding you tight enough that you could practically merge together.

“Mhmm,” you nodded tiredly against his chest, not even bothering to come up with a counterargument or a witty comeback because why bother lying when you both were well aware of just how true it was.

Eddie hummed and laughed, “must really be tired… - let’s go home, I’ll order us a pizza and I also have a little surprise for you.”

This caught your attention and you let your face angle up to look at his own, eyes sparkling with their usual teasing and mischief.

“What surprise?”

“If I told you it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it, sweetheart?” He asked with a raised brow, leaning down to peck your pouting lips.

“I guess not,” you murmured, letting him interlace your hand with his and pull you out of the school and into his van.

.

You watched him drive with the windows down, hand on your thigh as he tapped his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of whatever music was playing from the speakers. Whenever he had the chance he spared small glances in your direction, smiling widely when your eyes met and visible heat covered your face. Small pieces of his hair were flying in his face where they had come loose from the hair tie you had helped him put his hair in before starting the van, he looked pretty and you couldn’t help the small whisper you let into the space.

“You’re really pretty.”

Because he was and he deserved to know it and you were sure no one else would tell him.

Eddie turned his face with a look of disbelief, hand tightening on your thigh as he tried to keep his focus on driving safely.

“What?” he asked incredulously, turning his head back and forth between you and the road.

You looked down at your hand that lay on top of his with a bashful smile, “I’m sorry… I just thought you should know.”

His mouth opened and closed, for the first time ever you’d left him speechless.

The speechlessness didn’t last long before he shook his head with a small laugh, “just wait until we get out of this van.”

Then he was shouting out of the window to no one in particular, “MY GIRL THINKS I’M PRETTY!”

You laughed loudly, squeezing his arm, “Eddie!”

“What? I just thought they should know,” he laughed, parroting your words back to you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you grinned.

“And you’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, you know that right?”

You smiled down at your hands once again, heat travelling all over your body, “I’m starting to get the idea,” you whispered, voice almost drowned out by the wind and music.

“It’s more than an idea, baby… I’m still having a hard time believing that you’re willingly sitting in my van and that you think I’m pretty.”

You shrugged, “well you are.”

He shrugged right back, bringing the van to a halt, “and you are too.”

.

“Eddie!” You giggled pushing at his chest, the kisses he was leaving on your neck tickling.

He didn’t budge, only breathing a laugh through his nose causing goosebumps to rise along your arms. His lips moved along the expanse of your throat, kissing the underside of your jaw and sucking hickeys into the soft skin.

“Eddie!” You tried again with a whine, “my surprise.”

He groaned against your neck, slowly straightening up and leaving a peck on your nose, “absolutely no patience,” he tsked.

“Says you,” you smacked his chest lightly, “I’m curious!”

He hummed with a smirk, moving from you to rifle through a drawer in his closet.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he said, looking at you expectantly.

A smile decorated your lips before you let your eyes drift close, listening to his shuffling and the sounds that drew closer. You waited patiently, shifting from one foot to the other when the sounds stopped. A small gasp escaped you when you felt his rough hand swipe against your cheek, cupping and caressing it lightly.

“You know I love you right?” He questioned, kissing your cheek and smiling when he felt your cheek lift in a smile against his lips.

“Of course and I love you…- is it a serious gift?”

Eddie chuckled, “a serious proof of how much I love you. Okay, open your eyes.”

You blinked your eyes open, looking from his happy face down to the square object in his hand. It took you a moment to recognize it as a vinyl and you would have laughed if your first reaction wasn’t squealing and staring at Eddie in shock.

“Oh my god! Where did you get this?!” You squealed, jumping into his arms to give him a quick hug. He didn’t have enough time to react before you were taking the vinyl from him to inspect it, turning it over multiple times to take in the black and white photo on the cover.

Eddie chuckled, placing a hand on the small of your back, looking over your shoulder at the vinyl like he hadn’t bought it, “I have my ways.”

“It’s been sold out for months… oh my god, Eds! I can’t believe you bought me the Tears for Fears album,” you were smiling so wide it hurt. You touched the song names with your finger, looking over your shoulder at him with wide eyes.

“Proof of how much I love you,” he confirmed with a huge smile of his own, “and we can even listen to it now.”

“Really? You, Eddie Munson, are going to play Tears for Fears on your record player?” You chuckled, reaching a hand up to check his temperature on his cheeks and forehead.

Eddie laughed, taking your hand in his to kiss the back of it, “I’ve forced you to listen to enough Black Sabbath, I think I owe you one.”

“The whole thing?” You looked at him pleadingly, letting him turn you in his arms and pull you into him, careful not to crush the record between you.

“Of course, baby… the whole thing,” he smiled, taking the record from you and walking to his record player.

You followed close behind him, like an excited puppy, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, looking as his ringed fingers carefully fished out the record and placed it on the player. The needle scratched and within a second the familiar clinking of ‘Shout’ travelled out through the speakers and into the air of Eddie’s room.

You giggled excitedly, “thank you! I love you!”

Eddie turned in your arms and chuckled, “you’re welcome and I love you.”

You giggled when his arms found their way around you, moving your body and dancing with you in front of his record player.

“Still tired?” He asked with a chuckle when, despite your happy face and movements, you tried to stifle a yawn by hiding your face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry… it’s just been a long day,” you mumbled with a smile into his shirt.

Eddie smiled softly, squeezing his arms around you and walking you the short distance backwards to his bed, “no need to apologize, I know why you’re tired,” he said with a knowing smirk before lowering his voice, “we didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Heat crept up your cheeks and you nodded.

“Hellfire shirt?” You asked to distract yourself from your embarrassment. Eddie just nodded knowingly, turning only to fish a Hellfire shirt from under his pillow.

His hands worked slowly and gently on the zipper on the side of your dress, looking in your eyes as he helped you out of the light garment. He smiled when you lifted your arms out of instinct letting him help the shirt over your head with practised ease. He placed a long kiss on your forehead as soon as it was visible and you smiled lovingly up at him.

“All ready for bed,” he grinned, toeing off his shoes and stripping out of his shirt and jeans quicker than you thought possible.

He guided you down under the blanket, coaxing you close to him and into his arms.

“You didn’t get pizza,” you mumbled, feeling guilty that your tiredness messed up his dinner plans.

“Don’t even worry about it… I was actually still full from lunch," he smiled, placing a kiss on your hairline and letting his hands wander up and down your back as you snuggled closer to him.

“I love you… so much,” you mumbled through your lovesick haze.

Eddie swears he’s never had as many butterflies swarm his stomach before. Your sweet scent filled his nostrils and he felt high just on having you so close. And the best thing about it all, you felt safe with him and you loved him. He felt so content, if he could he would stay like this with you forever; he would without a second of a doubt.

“I love you, my pretty girl.”

.

!Nsfw bonus scene below!

“I can’t sleep,” you murmured against his warm chest, breathing in the familiar scent of the cologne you had gifted him on his birthday, laundry detergent and cigarettes.

He hummed, caressing your cheek with his thumb, “need help?”

“How?” you murmured groggily against his chest.

He paused like he was thinking, tapping at his chin in thought, “well, I have a few ideas.”

Before you could properly react he was already busy crawling down the bed, pushing the blanket down with him and spreading your legs with gentle hands. Your groggy tired mind perked up quickly as you watched his soft eyes look at the plain black panties that covered your cunt like it was the sexiest piece of lingerie he had ever seen.

Time after time again Eddie always made you feel like the most beautiful and sexy woman on the face of the earth, especially when he swiped his tongue along his lips and ground his hips subtly against his bed.

“Alright, angel?” he asked, looking back and forth between your face and cunt, stroking his thumb against your clit over your panties.

“Mhmm, alright,” you confirmed with a nod, lifting your hips only a smidge, but Eddie understood with a sly grin. He slowly peeled your underwear down and off your legs, throwing them onto the floor with little care for where they landed.

He smiled to himself, rubbing his thumb along your exposed cunt, dipping his finger into your wetness before moving it up to rub your clit slowly. Watching your face closely, he grinned when your mouth fell open and a small whimper slipped out of it.

“You’re always so good for me,” he murmured with a grin, moving his thumb faster and entering two fingers inside you with quick movements.

You nodded, letting a moan tumble past your lips, “good for you.”

“Mhmm, so good.”

He grinned, basking in how the tired fog in your brain directly translated to you becoming the sweetest most pliant thing. His lips met your inner thigh, kissing up slowly as his fingers kept a steady pace in you.

The stretch of his fingers was so delicious, they worked on you with such practised ease. It was hard for you to picture a time before Eddie and his magic fingers; no one had ever taken the time to pleasure you or learn your body like he had. He was perfect, even if he didn’t quite believe it.

You shuddered as the cool metal of his rings touched your warm pussy, covering them in wetness.

The open-mouthed kisses worked slowly from your thighs to replace his thumb on your clit, letting his tongue dart out to swipe over the sensitive nub.

You shuddered and gasped, hands falling down to grip his shoulder and hair to have some kind of leverage.

The Tears for Fears album was long since over, the only sound in the room now was your whimpering moans, Eddie’s low grunts and slurps and the low squeak of his bed from him grinding his hips into the mattress for friction.

You could feel him smile against you, taking your clit into his mouth to suck on it and lick over it. Your hips started grinding against his face on their own accord, chasing that blissful feeling you could feel yourself crawling towards.

“Eddie, I’m close,” you whined, tightening your grip on his shoulder.

He nodded, working his fingers faster into you and moving his other hand up to grab your hand and intertwine your fingers with his. A shudder ran up his back every time he hit the mattress just the right way against his cock, staining his boxers and the sheets with the pre-cum oozing from the tip.

“I know, baby. Come on, I know you can do it,” he spoke softly against your cunt, words slightly muffled and hot.

You moaned, choking on a whine when his moans vibrated across your cunt, the sounds so sexy they acted as the final push for you to feel your thighs shake and tighten around his shoulder. Your body tensed and your hand grasped his tightly, trying to get away from the pleasure, but Eddie was eager to help you ride it out. His long moans warmed your cunt and matched the sounds of yours leaving your mouth.

He let you ride it out as long as you could, pulling his fingers from you so gently, but it still caused you to whimper. Gentle kisses were placed on your thighs before he slowly began getting up and off the bed.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You asked in a panic, eyes wide and tired tears already starting to form.

He cooed, bending over to coax you to lay back down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “just to get cleaned up, angel, won’t even be a minute… I promise.”

You furrowed your brows before looking down to see a visible wet patch on his boxers and a sheepish look on his face when he noticed you looking.

It was your moans and the tightening of your cunt around his fingers that did it, he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to and he definitely didn’t want to.

“It’s just what you do to me,” he grinned, scurrying to the bathroom to clean himself up and ruffle through his drawers for a fresh pair.

He returned less than two minutes later, helping you into another clean pair of boxers he had fished from his drawer, kissing both your hips before sliding them up.

And then, there you were again tucked up against him under the blanket with his hands running up and down your back gently. This time however you could barely keep your eyes open, but you tried, wanting to enjoy every possible moment with the soft version of the long-haired metal head.

It didn’t last longer than 30 seconds, the low sounds of Eddie’s hums and sweet praises lulling you to sleep quickly.

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A/n: to be notified of future work follow @saintlike78slibrary and turn on notifications ☀️

[privateanxieties]

forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 1)

Summary: For what it's worth, you don't know the man who's pointing the gun at your face. It's strange how one goes from bakery owner getting robbed to wanted fugitive. Oh, and then there's the target you put on your own back by associating with one Frank Castle. Surprisingly, you two have a lot in common.

Words: 4.1K

Series Masterlist | NEXT CHAPTER

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For what it's worth, you don't know the man who’s pointing the gun at your face. It is difficult, in these circumstances, to convince yourself that this was somehow brought on by choices made in the past, even with the sophisticated talent you have for self-condemnation. He's not a disgruntled ex-boyfriend, or an unstable relative you sassed one too many times over Thanksgiving dinner. He isn’t one of your past mistakes. He's just some guy. 

He's aiming an M1911 somewhere below your clavicles and shouting words you've never been on the receiving end of, and in the time it takes him to do so, you're successful in finding one good thing about this whole experience: at least he isn't making one of your employees stare down the barrel, even if they have to watch you do it from a few feet away. Eliza and Ramón are adults, enrolled in the local college and with bills to pay, but to you they may as well be children. 

The man has a stutter you only notice when he calls you a bitch for the second time, deeming you too fucking slow in emptying the cash register into his bag. You wonder how he reached the conclusion that four hundred dollars would be worth the hassle. Who robs a bakery on a Saturday morning? People sleep in, especially in a small town. Or, most people do. The dark-haired man sitting all the way in the back with a half-eaten stack of pancakes looks wide awake. You don't know him either, but you don't think he's from around here. 

It's weird, in a way, that you aren't really thinking about what's happening in front of you. A bubble has fogged up your attention, and all that you remark upon is how the mellow 80’s playlist you picked out for today hasn't abruptly stopped playing. Thus, you'll always remember the current song as the soundtrack to your first time getting robbed. While you gather the bills from their slots in the register, it strikes you that you didn't have a song for other firsts in life. Not that there were that many worthy of background music. If anything, this feels fitting precisely because you couldn't have predicted which song would be playing when some asshole would pull his gun on you. What used to be lyrical perfection to you will likely ring a little apropos, from now until forever. You will, indeed, be waiting on a sunny day after this — many thanks to Bruce Springsteen for distracting you. 

"Are you deaf, bitch? Move it over. " 

The bubble evaporates. Yeah. Real grateful. 

You're going to do as he asks, because you are not alone. You won’t risk any lives, even if the Colt's safety has been on this entire time. You wonder if it's even his gun, by the way his hand curls around it clumsily. No real, hardened criminal would get so close when they have a ranged weapon, and maybe you’re right, but you won't take your chances. Speed in retrieving your own weapon is not the issue here — it's that if you do, you have to use it. You're not so sure it's the best course of action, even if the skin at your back itches against the warm metal nestled there. 

He's young. He didn't even bother covering his face, and the eye-watering lime green of his jacket is the very opposite of stealth wear. Maybe he's desperate, or maybe this is his first time too, though you don't think it'll be his last, especially since you've so far let it go smoothly for him.

You pause. This will give him the confidence to do it again some time, with someone else. Someone who isn't trying as hard as you to keep their impulses in check. Someone who doesn't have any urges at all, acting only on adrenaline and principles. 

You've always believed you weren't made out of the same things others were, and that's always proved true in the most unflattering ways. When you were followed home eight years ago and instead of freezing in fear, your body fought back until the skin barely clung to your stalker's face. When your first boss out of high school cornered you next to a dumpster to ask for a favor in return for the loan he'd given you, one that you'd already paid back, and he found himself short a couple of inches— terrible for him, because that was pretty much all he'd had. 

When Mark Davidson, a name you'd never forget, tricked your grandmother into signing away her house, and then his own turned to embers just two days later. It doesn't take you long to make a decision. It didn't take Mark very long to figure out the culprit behind his real estate mishap either, but only one of you walked away from the old quarry in that faded industrial town. 

There is, you realize, a choice being presented here. None of the other instances felt this ambiguous; either you fought, or you went along with an injustice and suffered for it. Plenty of people fight back out of a desire to protect themselves and their property, and plenty more do the exact opposite out of a desire to keep their lives. You aren't sure where you fit in this particular situation. The past has taught you time and again that you're part of the people who fight, but that has only ever resulted in a trail of smoke and no place to call home, because while fighting is one thing, not knowing when to stop is another.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?! I said move it over. ”

You didn’t have to do what you did. You could’ve stopped hitting when your stalker fell limp. You could’ve quit your job. Taken Mark to court instead of resorting to arson. Instead, you went with your instincts. You’re staring down the barrel again.

People catch on quickly in small towns, and having a reputation in the way that you used to is only good for warding off trouble. The bad people don't want to get close. But, neither do the nice ones. 

This is a nice town. Lively, warm. The people are bearable— even good, on occasion. Thoughts of your elderly neighbor are quick to surface, and the knowledge that Hazel expects you back home weighs heavily in favor of doing the very thing you're not used to doing. She'd be awfully disappointed if Sunday breakfast was canceled because you decided to give in to your worst impulses and fight like a rabid dog in the face of whatever provoked you. 

The man thrusts the gun even closer to your face with a slight tremor, a show of impatience. 

This is a good place to be. You never went back to industrial Auckney, and you don't want a repeat experience to follow you here like it followed you throughout the previous three towns where you tried to build a life. You don't want to have to leave. You don't want to make Hazel sad. So, you choose to let him go. You let it go. 

And just like that, you hand it over. There's no magical moment, no switch that flips. Making a decision that goes against your every instinct is a learning experience. You're not sure how suited you are to this new path. 

From there, things are quick to end. Once he's got a hold of the money, he backs out of the modest premises all wild-eyed, looking like he expects the cops to pull up at any moment. He's watched too much TV. Nobody even called them. A moment later, he takes off running down the street, green jacket like a neon sign against the stretch of asphalt. 

Breathe.  

Your rigid fingers unglue themselves from the counter's laminate surface and you finally turn your back, the gesture bordering on unnatural. As you do, your gaze settles on Eliza first. A nineteen year old girl with a frame that could be blown away by the wind is looking right through you, her fingers moving erratically against the blacked out touch screen of her phone. 

Five small steps bring you to her. You try to steady her shaking form while removing the phone from her hands. 

"Hey, it's okay. It's over, he's gone," you reassure her, but her breathing has picked up too quickly to go back down with just a few kind words. 

"Need to— I need to call the police. I—" 

Your hands find her shoulders as you hold eye contact and try to soothe her to the best of your ability. 

"You don't need to do anything other than breathe. I'll handle this. If you want to call someone, call a friend to come pick you up and drive you home. Ramón, you too. Take a few days off." 

The college junior throws you the strangest look you've seen in a while, but he too is shaken enough that he doesn't have the energy or the will to protest. 

"Come on. Go sit down for a bit. Both of you," you tell them, reaching under the counter for a bottle of water that you hand Ramón, silently gesturing towards the back room. A different environment would be good for wracked nerves. 

The two make their way towards the kitchen, and your eyes soften at the way Eliza has leaned into Ramón's embrace, quiet sniffles soon cut off by the stainless steel door. You aren't breathing quite right yourself, but you can live with it until things are settled. You can. You have to, because you aren't leaving this town. Not over some prick with shaky hands and horrible judgment. 

"Ma'am?" 

Instinct surges, and this time you can't force it back down. Fingers drawn to the Kimber's grip at your back, the movement feels almost liberating when you turn on your heel and lock target onto what startled you. Not that you'd ever admit it. You can't believe you didn't hear him coming until he was right there, staring at you with narrowed eyes. The dark-haired man in the back. Your only other witness. 

His hands go up in the universal gesture of surrender — or at least no harm intended — but it's too late. You've pulled a gun on a customer, and despite the fact that you kept your finger off the trigger, the damage is done. Lowering the weapon feels like a personal failure. You should've done this to the right person, less than three minutes ago. The man who's now in front of you has nothing to do with your misguided choice. 

But, he isn't leaving. Despite what you just did, he's looking at you in a way you can't decipher. Maybe he's one of those people who are hard to read, or easy to misread . Is it concern, or something else? On second thought, maybe you don't really care, unless he is a local and you've just tipped your hand in the long run. He certainly doesn’t look like the type of person to settle down in a place like this. If he’s just passing through, you can live with putting a gun in his face, as long as no one else saw you do it. 

"You alright?" 

The question surprises you, as does the way he asks it — genuinely enough, but the look he's pairing it with makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. He's watching too closely. There's too much knowledge behind his eyes, and something within you stirs uncomfortably. You don't even try for innocent. Instead, you put the .45 back where it came from and sigh, looking as dejected as possible. It isn't hard to do. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. I'm a little jumpy after… all that." 

The man takes in your words quietly, a single nod his only response. 

"Hell of a quick draw, that." 

You blink in surprise. Answering the remark is tricky. Is it praise, or judgment? Both? What do you say to either? You can't let too much time pass before you answer, as that would be an answer in itself. You settle on hiding the truth in plain sight. 

"Probably wondering why I didn't do that earlier, huh?" you ask, a nervous huff coloring your words. You lean on the counter separating you from the man, painting yourself a version of fragile that you hope translates well to his watchful eyes. But, to your dismay, he shakes his head, scanning you even more closely than before. 

"Nah. You had kids in here. Couple bucks ain't worth dying for. You did the right thing." 

It's not what you want to hear. It's also not something you think he's entitled to say, as though he's some kind of authority figure. What makes him so sure this was the right thing to do? You don't think it was. The more time elapses between now and the robbery, the more regret pools in your chest. You're having a hard time with the follow-through part of your decision to let it go, and he is most definitely not helping. 

The vexation makes your jaw tighten and the corner of your mouth turn down just so, and the all-knowing eyes studying you take notice. The words spill out before your brain can catch the mistake. 

"I don't see a badge on you, mister." 

It only takes him a second to pick up on the scorn in your remark, but to your great annoyance, he doesn't seem offended. On the contrary, the smirk rising to the surface suggests sardonic amusement. It also paints his face with the kind of insufferable attractiveness you’ve always been agitated by. 

"Should be glad about that. A cop probably would've done something stupid. He'd have gotten someone shot, tryna be a hero." He speaks words you can't help but feel are directed more at you than a theoretical police officer. Yet again, you don't bite your tongue, speaking with the same stiffness in your jaw. 

"Maybe. Or maybe he'd have just shot him down before the guy could pull the safety back on his own gun." 

"So why didn't you?" he counters immediately, the low timbre of his voice almost making his words vibrate through you. 

You breathe in sharply through your nose. The challenge in his tone is more curiosity than genuine provocation, but it still doesn't sit well alongside your growing frustration. Another veiled truth finds its way past your lips as you hold his hardened gaze. 

"Like you said. Couple bucks ain't worth dying for." 

He considers your answer for a moment or two, and then it's as if something hidden from view pulls his features into a different scene. A softer look takes hold, and on a man of his size and projected disposition, it looks almost out of place. Almost. You're not sure if the sudden change means he knows you weren't talking about yourself. 

He shuffles on his feet imperceptibly — not a mark of discomfort so much as it is, you suspect, restlessness. He clears his throat once, and then his eyes are no longer on you. 

"You uh, gonna call the cops any time soon?"

At his question, your gaze follows his a few inches to the right, where Eliza's phone rests atop the counter. It's where you placed it intentionally, so that she'd forget about what she wanted to do. And from the way he asked, you wonder if he's onto you about that.

"I'll file a report later. No need for them to show up. Not like they're gonna catch him," you say dismissively, finally leaning away from the counter and straightening your posture. You put some distance between you and him by taking one step back, wordlessly signaling that you’re done talking and hoping he's astute enough to pick up on body language cues. The slightest pursing of his lips tells you he is. Conversation over. 

He lingers only one more moment before he offers a final nod in your direction, turning in a distinctly controlled way that reeks of military habit and walking off. Only, he stops just short of reaching the door, and his hesitation makes the tension in your jaw return. He doesn't fully look back at you as he speaks. 

"It'll give those kids peace of mind. You should call 'em." 

You hold back a scoff. 

"Are you familiar with the cops in this town?" you drawl, a twinge of sarcasm flowing off your tongue. 

"No, ma'am. Can't say I am." 

The half-smirk you can still glimpse pulling at his lips beckons you to wipe it off, but you manage to hold back. He's almost out the door, anyway. 

"Well, for the record… We'd be safer with a labrador for defense. At least it's got teeth."

"That right?" he grins as if you've tickled his funny bone. He doesn't seem to have all that stellar of an opinion about the police either, if his jab about the theoretical cop is anything to go by. He's still not looking at you, and you don't understand what the hell he's stalling for. Typically, anyone witnessing what he did a little while ago would be out the door the minute it was over. And yet, here he stands, after you pointed a gun at him. Still.

"Yeah, that's right," you confirm, hoping this is finally the end of the exchange. 

It sure seems that way for a short moment of blessed silence.

"Is that why you picked a Warrior?"

His eyes finally veer towards you, smile completely gone. The muscles in your back are suddenly taut once more, and your lungs fill with air they greedily keep for a few seconds longer than they ought to. You don't know what to say. You're not sure why he's bringing up the model of your firearm, like he isn't even bothered that you shoved it in his face earlier. Maybe he's not. Maybe he's a weirdo. Maybe you're trying to convince yourself he doesn't know exactly what you're thinking, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

A scowl fights for control of your features as your hands twitch by your sides. You're still high on anger and guilt and growing resentment for not doing what you were itching to do earlier. Right next to those feelings, the desire to preserve the image it's taken you four years to build is putting up its own fight, albeit much less valiantly. You just want to be alone with your thoughts. Just a moment where you don't have to pretend. You don't know how long you have before your employees return from the kitchen.

"I don't follow," is what you say instead of telling him to get the hell out already.

It's not the right thing to say, because he fixes you with an unimpressed look and takes a couple of steps back inside. You've never had your bullshit called this efficiently, let alone by someone who doesn't know you.

"They didn't name it that 'cause it's meant for defense . And that ain't no standard issue you got there. I'm just— Look,"

You can't resist the urge to make a fist when he closes the distance again, ending up right back where he started. The only thing separating you once more is the service counter, but with the way he's staring you down, it might as well not exist. He looks away briefly, like he isn't sure he's going to say whatever words are already forming on his lips.

"It's none of my business. I get that. But I know that look in your eye, 'cause I've seen it a hundred times before. So I'm just gonna lay it out, alright?" he says, not asking or waiting for permission. "You're gonna go home tonight, and you're gonna toss and turn and not sleep 'til dawn thinkin' about what happened here. And you're gonna want to even the scales, or whatever bullshit you're telling yourself right now. But I'm telling you not to. Once it starts, that shit never ends. It follows you everywhere. Every goddamn place you set foot in."

The gruff voice, steady and so determined it infiltrates some deep part of your mind, softens on the very end of the sentence that you have no doubt will be the thing you'll actually think about tonight.

It follows you everywhere.

You should've told him to fuck off ten minutes ago. If you had, you wouldn't be standing here, trembling in anger. Or, at least, not this type of anger. The air you forcibly breathe out does not ease the tension.

Whatever desire to hold back that was present before is overpowered in its entirety by one single element. One thing that could easily define your life up until this point, and probably in perpetuity: not knowing when to back the fuck down. If he wants to have a go, well, who are you to deny him?

"Getting awfully personal there for someone whose name I don't even know. Sure you're not projecting a tiny bit?" you incise, a pitying pout meant to yank his chain blooming on your lips.

"Is that why your finger's twitching?" he shoots back, gaze locked on to the left hand resting by your side, except for the consistent movement of one particular finger. You abruptly stop, but it's hard for knowing eyes to mistake a trigger itch for anything else.

He knows that you know that he knows what you're thinking.

"Look, mister," you begin, absent a polite tone. "Whatever you think I am or am not going to do, you're right: it is none of your business. But seeing as it's so important to you, let me give you some peace of mind ." Throwing his words back at him makes you feel better, like you're slowly gaining an upper hand in whatever battle this nonsensical exchange is.

Pausing, you lean a little closer to him unnecessarily, an air of defiance permeating the space between you. You're sure it's both him and you contributing to it. You bite the inside of your cheek briefly right before you open your mouth again.

The distinct squeak of the back door swinging open halts the flow of words before it even begins, and Eliza soon enters your peripheral vision. For one short moment, the interruption riles you up, but you realize that this is the best way to ensure he fucks off once and for all. Just focus on someone else. Anyone else. You're happy to avoid that unnerving stare for the rest of your life.

Your stand-off finally ends when the young woman reaches your side, and you break your gaze away from the man's in order to give Eliza your attention, as well as to clearly send the message he's been having trouble getting. You aren't interested in his lecture, or the way you can still feel his eyes on you for a few more seconds after you've looked away.

It's only as you talk to Eliza about having her mother pick her up that you finally hear the man's quiet sigh of defeat, though it sounds more frustrated than upset to your ears. Good.

Then, just when you think he's given up, a hand slaps against the counter with a crinkling sound, the familiarity of it leaving no room for interpretation. You're about to throw him a look and sass him about having already paid for his meal, but before you can, he's already started walking off.

Your lips purse as you watch him exit the building, gait once again reminiscent of military custom. It's self-assured yet stiff, and you're pretty convinced at this point that he must've served. Whatever. Some rando with a chip on his shoulder has no business getting a rise out of—

As you look back at Eliza, a cursory glance to the bills he laid down has your muscles tensing again, and you resist the urge to go out after him. It's not the four hundred-dollar notes that piss you off. How he knew the exact amount handed over in the robbery wasn't much of a surprise to you, what with how keenly he’d watched everything unfold.

It's the two singles laid out on top of the pile that really get under your skin, a simple message he went out of his way to send.

Couple bucks ain't worth dying for.

.

.

-to be continued-

A/N: I'm in my Frank Castle era so strap in folks. I love soft!Frank but we're going to be getting a lot of asshole!Frank in this one, which I argue has the potential to be even more delicious. We'll have fluff, smut and all the goodness of Frank and Reader antagonizing each other while being mad about each other. Chapter 2 is ready to post for Friday!

[submissivekillers]

Norman with an over confident but bad at flirting reader?

(love ur stuff btw)

y/n: has absolutely negative rizz norman: ohhh i can't not fuck them

in all seriousness after considering it.... i kinda feel like this is the ideal pairing for norman?

like, norman is a very pretty man. he probably has been hit on before. but because of The Problems, straightforward flirting - especially if it's sexual in tone - just makes him awkward at best, and completely shut down at worst (until mother bates comes out.) the flirt in turn either ends up unsettled by him or dead (or both)

but when you hit him with the silliest line he's ever heard, the sheer combination of flattery, confusion, and amusement manages to override all of that ingrained fear and shame and he just. laughs?

and MAYBE that be kind of ego crushing, except that he's still pink around the ears and hiding his face in his hands, and even when he sobers up enough to finish checking you in he's got this sweet, almost surprised grin on his face, like he'd forgotten how good laughter felt

so. obviously you're going to have to keep flirting with him, if it means he'll smile at you like that again

crucially, there's never any sense of pressure that accompanies your flirting. in fact, for a long time i think norman would operate under the assumption that you don't mean anything by it - you just seem so pleased whenever you get him giggling and clutching his sides, and you never make a single move to indicate you want anything more, so? clearly you're just a very friendly person who likes making people laugh, and he's nothing special

of course, you are So Very Into Him and screaming internally every time you get tongue-tied and end up spouting out some insane pick-up line instead of just telling him how you feel goddamnit -

but that's also fine, in a way, because from what norman shares with you about his past the last thing you'd ever want to do is make him feel trapped by your affection, and because you still get to see that cute grin. so you learn not to mind

i think norman would really admire your confidence; you seem to move through the world so easily, whereas he has so much weighing him down. he worries sometimes that he's too boring for you, plain and shy and still fighting that voice in his ear that tells him to make you disappear. but when he expresses those thoughts to you - lightly, trying to make a joke but getting a lil too self-deprecating with it - you get so earnest, taking his hands in yours and looking at him with warm, clear eyes

you tell him how happy you are to have met him, how much you admire his dedication to the motel and to becoming a better man, how you love hearing him chatter about his new taxidermy project or the strangers who pass through the hotel, and norman starts to realize that all that terrible flirting did mean something

naturally, the pick-up lines don't stop once the two of you finally make it past the pining stage. if anything, an established relationship just makes you lay it on even thicker - but it also means norman can just kiss you to quiet you down, an arrangement that neither of you have a problem with

MAJOR bonus points if, despite all your bluster, you melt whenever the attention is returned. you catch norman on a good day when he feels bold enough to respond with some teasing of his own, and you respond by turning into a blushing, stuttering mess? oh, he's hooked

local motel owner becomes absolute menace, more news at 6

in conclusion, norman bates will let you hit if you're goofy

[zeldaelmo]

Welcome back to @zelinkcommunity 's prompt 'By a thread'. If you're here longer than three seconds, you probably know I love turning tropes and prompts on their head, and this fic is a typical result of exactly that.

@mistresslrigtar was so kind to beta this for me. Go read her zelink week fics! Oh, and she also inspired me to try new banners, hope you like them!

Enjoy!

Superglue

Akkala’s stiff breeze greeted them when they materialized on the platform of the shrine, carrying some crunchy leaves and the smell of the first autumn day with it. Link blinked slowly, taking a moment to feel Zelda’s hand curled in his. 

“Home,” she had said and, in a sudden rush of boldness, he had tapped the shrine symbol in Akkala instead of Hateno. Doubt crept up on him like ground frost, even through the tunic he had thrown on just before they fast-traveled, but it was too late to backtrack now.

Zelda shuddered next to him, her dress, once again, offering little protection against the weather, but her mood was splendid. Tired but splendid.

"What did you want to show me?" she chirped like a red sparrow in the snow.

"Ah—uhm," he stuttered, blinking out of his awe of holding her hand again. "It's a surprise."

"Ah, come on!" She laughed, running her palm over her bare arm. 

Ok, enough of this. Link let go of her hand and fumbled the Purah Pad from his belt, furiously scrolling the screen for some warmer clothes for her. If he took the risk of clattering teeth during a short paragliding trip, it was one thing, but he would surely not allow Zelda to suffer for another split-second in her life if he could help it. Finally, he came up with the Rito garb, tapped the screen, and turned back to her to drape it over her shoulders.

Abruptly, she stopped, her mouth falling open. She wouldn't argue with him about this, would she? Link bit his lip, mentally preparing to talk her into the warm coat. The woman had stubbornness for a whole millennium.  

"Link? What on Hylia's green earth is that?"

Huh? She was well acquainted with Rito clothes, had she lost her memory this time— oh wait, she was looking past him. 

Frowning, he turned his head, his eyes resting on her furrowed brows a moment too long. He only liked this look on her face when it came to solving science problems, and this seemed hardly the place for that. She pointed behind him and absently shrugged the coat on. Finally, he detached his gaze from her, turned, and saw what she meant.

In the middle of the plateau rested a pile of wooden slats, nearly two bases high. Ripped curtains stretched over what had formerly been window frames, weapon racks poked randomly out of the stack (one with the light trident still attached), and just barely discernible under all the rubble, Link spotted his, well, their, new bed. The wind tossed lighter household items around in little twisters while remnants of wooden walls creaked under the weight of rooms collapsed on them.

It wasn’t the chilly autumn wind that rushed over his back and expanded over his whole body. What… what had happened here? Unable to process what his eyes saw and to accept the conclusion his mind tried to draw from the images, he rounded the mess in slow motion. Everything was in pieces. Everything! The only intact cubicle seemed to be the paddock, thankfully. Epona and Zelda’s golden horse Apple were unharmed, unbothered by the ruckus even, and they both munched happily away at the flower ring he had bought from Koko to decorate the door.

“Link? What—” Zelda started, her voice tinted with concern, but she was interrupted by a loud crack from the other end of the pile. Link sprinted towards the sound, leaping over cushions meant to make a cozy evening for Zelda in front of the stove and a pair of boots that were entangled with something that looked a lot like a bowstring from a knight’s bow. Once he arrived at the backside of the pile, he stopped, gawking with his mouth open. On top of the mass, Zelda’s new study leaned dangerously to the left, only attached to the remnants of what was once the wall of the blessing’s room by a string of greenish glue. A green string he had seen thousands of times during his quest to beat the Demon King and get Zelda back. Rauru’s hand produced them as soon as Link wanted to attach two things to each other, and they were usually quite sturdy. Now, however, the string was thinning at worrying speed until it was the diameter of a thread. 

The room tilted; further, books and papers falling out and tumbling through Akkala’s afternoon wind like its famous red leaves. With a silent ‘pop’, the glue disappeared. Link swirled around and snatched Zelda, who had been gaping at the spectacle, causing them both to stumble out of the hazard zone. Not a second later, the study rushed down and crashed onto the ground, splitting into pieces. 

“Link—thank you!” she sputtered, finding her footing again. “But what is this? Is this what you wanted to show me? But why?”

Link gulped for air, blinking at the bouquet of silent princesses and sundelions he had prepared for her yesterday with the stubborn hope she would somehow return to her human form. The flowers were scattered all over the mountain of wood and personal belongings, stems broken and blooms crushed.

A single cup from somewhere on the right where the kitchen had once been detached itself from the rubbish and rolled to their feet.

Link kicked the cup back into the mess as if it was the head of a stalkoblin and muttered gravely, "That was my dream home."

Somewhere along the way, he had decided he would simply ignore the facts about Zelda’s irreversible transformation into a dragon and concentrate on the 'dream' aspect of the project and build a family home for them. 

Goddess above, he had burned so much money! He had dealt with not-upgraded armor and elixirs instead of proper equipment to have the spare money for the new kitchen or the large bed. And now… 

He shouldn't be upset about this, not when Zelda, the true Zelda and not a puppet or a light dragon or whatever form fate could come up with, was back at his side, and still, he couldn't help the wave of frustration that crushed over him at the sight of dirt-stained towels and broken shelves. Who would have thought that the house was only held together by a thread of— wait. Wait!

"Grante!!!" Link yelled in the general direction of the little sales booth at the corner of his property. Zelda was startled at his sudden loudness, but Link had had enough of this.

The man in question rushed to his side; a customer service smile spreading on his lips. Link had to restrain himself from slapping it off his face. "Explain."

Grante wrung his hands in front of him, smile unwavering. "First and foremost, it's Grante-son. And secondly, it looks like you had a little…ah… adhesion issue here. Sorry to hear that." His face lit up even more, genuine this time. "Hudson Construction will help you clean up the rubble for the small fee of—"

"Grante -son!" Link's hands twitched from suppressing the urge to shake him by the shoulders. One, two, three, he counted in his head to get a grip on himself. He would not embarrass himself in front of Zelda. "I purchased a dream home from Hudson Construction. Not a pile of wood. I have no idea how, but you'll fix this."

"I'm deeply sorry, but unfortunately, I have to inform you that we don't offer insurance together with our products, so I fear there's nothing I can do for you. We sold you a building ground and the cubicles. The rest was your own responsibility." 

Link took several deep breaths, forcing himself to smile at Zelda, who had walked off a few steps to greet her horse. She probably was still getting used to the fact that she could wander around Hyrule on her own two legs again and had no patience for… whatever this was. "I don't know what you don't understand about this! Hudson Construction, well, you personally approved the stability of the building, and now look at it! Goddess above." Link pushed his hand into his bangs, a habit that had come to him on his adventure while wearing his hair down. "Seriously, I don't know what I expected from a company that keeps someone occupied who can't even put up a sign."

"I don't know what or who you are referring to." Granteson frowned and picked a wooden slat up, turning it back and forth. With a shrug, he tossed it back onto the pile of trash l. "I did approve it. It seemed to work fine with the weird hand thing you had going on.”

Weird hand thing…? Right. Now that he said it, Link couldn’t recall that anyone ever affixed the cubicles that were the rooms, and since it worked just fine, he hadn’t insisted on it either. They must have been held together by the power-turned-glue of Rauru’s hand, and now that he had lost that ability, everything had come undone. Okay, so that was on him. Kind of. But they were a construction company! They didn’t glue the school in Hateno together, did they?

Granteson cleared his throat, correctly sensing the next accusation on Link’s face. “Maybe just try to put it back together? With your magic hand thingy?"

"Try… to… put it back together?" Link raised his marred arm and stared at the leathery skin on his stiff hand. "I don't think that still works…" Not one to give up easily, he flicked his wrist. The arm was a shadow of what it once was, but it was not completely immobile. It would be useless for swordplay, but maybe Rauru had a last, invisible gift for him…

Yes! 

Blue light flashed in front of him, and a gust of wind tugged at his hair. Link grinned. Oh, if ascend also still worked, he would have so much fun springing a surprise on Zelda! The look on her face if he popped through the ceiling of her study would be priceless — wait, what?! Why did the earth rumble? Horrified, Link watched the waves of blue radiating from his hand, splitting the ground in front of him like a laser beam. Before he had the quick-wittedness to drop his hand again, the fissure had already reached the pile of wood and was tearing everything apart. Wood cracked and rubble tumbled to the ground until the grand finale was marked by a small explosion that set everything on fire. Not a gift from Rauru, but from the Yiga. How could he forget about the cursed earthquake ability?

Link opened his mouth but didn’t have it in him to curse.

“Eh,” was all that escaped Granteson’s lips when the flames began to eat away at the remnants of Link’s dreamhouse, and frankly, Link had nothing more eloquent to add either. Against his will, a lump formed in his throat, and his bottom lip quivered. This should have been a surprise for Zelda! He had prepared everything from fruitcake and flowers to fresh notebooks! He had put a highlight in every single room for her to discover, and now… everything was gone. Goddess, he was such an idiot. Why didn’t he bring her to Hateno? She would have been happy to rest in their bed on the loft; there had been no rush to… to… 

A slim, gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and it took everything in him not to burst into tears immediately at her touch. 

“Link,” Zelda said, and when he turned to her, the heat radiating from what was quickly turning into a full-blown bonfire, hit them both. “I understand that you’ve been on your own for so long, so it’s only logical that you’d fall back into old coping mechanisms… But we’ve talked about this. No arson.”

Link blinked at her. “That’s not— I mean, it was an accident. I’d never…” She squeezed his arm with a tenderness that split him in two, just like the earthquake had done with his house. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes to stop the tears from spilling over and stuttered, “Zelda. This was— I built a house. A home, more specifically. It had a kitchen, a little stable, just— everything.” He lifted his hands from his eyes and pointed at the rubble before their feet. “The cubicle that just crashed down was your study. It was on top of everything with a separate staircase so nobody disturbs you, just like you like it— Goddess, sorry.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “This is not how I planned it. You said ‘home’, so my mind just jumped to showing you what I built for us. It was a stupid idea. Let’s go to Hateno; we both need to rest.”

“Link.” Her tone was soft and firm at the same time. Oh, how he had missed the grounding effect the simple call of his name in her voice had on him! “You built a home for us, although you knew I was a dragon and couldn’t return?”

Link smiled and looked boyishly through his lashes at her. Then he shrugged. “You said you wanted kids, and the house in Hateno is too small for more than two people. This is, eh well, this was a family home.”

“Ok, but…”

“Zelda.” He took her hand, and she raised her eyes to his, inviting him to share his thoughts. It would have been nearly romantic if not for Granteson trying to kick household articles out of the cracking fire. “Do you really think I would have given up on getting you back? Ever? I would have forced the Goddesses to give us our happy ending.”

“You’re crazy.”

“That’s what they say.” Link cracked a grin, and Zelda rolled her eyes playfully. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll take care of the mess another day.”

“No, wait.” She detached herself from him, stepping closer to the flames. Bent over by the hip, she inspected what the fire had left behind or hadn’t taken yet. “It takes a lot to make you emotional, so this must be important to you. I can help.”

“Zelda,” Link argued and tried to pull her back. “It’s ok. It’s really not that urgent. We can come back anytime; it’s just stuff that can be replaced.”

“Close your eyes.”

Link frowned at her, but when she shot him a radiant smile, he huffed, defeated, and did what she told him. 

Nothing happened at first, but after a while, the heat on his skin slowly dwindled, and he could feel the crisp autumn air again. The cracking of the fire also stopped; instead, he heard clattering and rattling noises, as if someone was moving many lighter things around. Those sounds were followed by heavy clunks of wooden beams clashing against each other. At this, curiosity got the better of him. 

“Zelda, what…?” He opened his eyes just in time to see the study that had nearly crushed them move back to the top of the pile. The cubicle was in one piece again. 

“Hey!” Zelda laughed at him, hand raised against the pile of clutter that kept moving around in a cloud of dust. “You’re cheating.”

“Maybe,” he said and smiled absently, captured by the golden glow that enveloped her. His eyes were only half on the pieces that slowly came back together; his focus was, as always, on her. Nonetheless, it was a little strange to see parts of the top rooms fly back in the air to form a cubicle once more, ignoring every restraint physics would normally put on them. Piece by piece, wood beam by wood beam, and cushion by cushion, the items darted back to their former place until everything looked like a house again and not like a pile of rubbish. 

“Granteson?” Zelda asked sweetly, condoning politely how utterly shamelessly the man was staring at her. “Please go fetch Hudson, will you? I need an expert carpenter to fix the house for good.”

“O-of course, P-princess Z-Zelda,” Granteson stuttered and ran towards Tarrey Town.

Link snorted at his sudden abjection but was too happy to complain that she didn’t get any talk about warranties or fixing fees. With a lazy smile on his lips, he hugged her from behind, put his chin on her shoulder, and watched his — their — house come back together. They had risked everything for the peace that now settled over Hyrule like the morning dew; it only seemed fitting that the place he had built for them would become part of that peace. The glow of her power made Zelda warm, warmer even than the Snowquill armor, and he nestled his face into her short hair. His lips found the stretch of skin that always made her gasp, and he pressed a lingering kiss on it until she giggled. 

“Thank you," he breathed.

"Look what you've done now! You're distracting me!" she called, laughing. One of the freshly put back walls rushed down again, but neither of them had the focus to care. Still laughing, she sneaked her free hand around his neck and pulled him in for a proper kiss. 

Link heard another wood beam splinter, but it didn't matter. Together, they could fix everything, and now, they finally had all the time to take care of themselves. 

Or on Ao3:

[elevenelvenswords]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by @curufiin- thankies <3

How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 8 so far.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

20,718 apparently

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Silmarillion- it's been an ongoing obsession for approximately 7 years now lol.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Fretting, which is my first ever published fic, is at the top. I'm not super proud of it if I'm being honest but I'm glad others enjoyed it :P Then we've got Inside Out, Unbridled sword and passion, Take a chance and Stutter.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do try to reply to every comment! The fact that someone made time to tell me something nice about my works means the world to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably this one? None of my fics are fluffy so...

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

My recent Curufinrod fic, I think? It's less... gnarly and angst-driven?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Fortunately no.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Considering that 6 out of those 8 fics are tagged as explicit, you can draw your own conclusions :P I write various flavours of kink :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but certain fics that I wrote were inspired by conversations I had with other fandom members :3

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

I'll go with the good ol' Angbang. I've recently become deeply invested in Curufinrod though, and I'll (hopefully) write for more pairings over the Christmas break.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's a very old draft of a multi-chaptered Angbang fic that's been gathering dust on my laptop for a year xD I might polish it up and post it at some point IF I find the motivation for it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I guess I'm fairly good at descriptions and metaphors?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Good pacing and finding the right balance between dialogue and narration are both pretty tricky for me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've never tried this but I find it exquisite in other people's fics :D

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Probably The Hobbit? But what I wrote is between me and god lmao.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I tend to be very critical of my own works, especially after I post them. I don't really re-read them so it's difficult for me to choose a favourite one when I can't recall half the things I wrote lol. But I was pretty proud of Beyond the pale back when I wrote it! My writing style changed over the years, I believe, so I'm pleased to see the improvement :)

Tagging @polutrope, @crackinthecup, @gardensofthemoon, @havenotwillnotreadthebooks, @i-did-not-mean-to and whoever wants to give this a go!

[montlie]

Second Chance AU original ending

When me and @borntolead were discussing Second Chance (our DMs are chaos) it started out very differently. This is the cut ending scene I had written out (yes sometimes I write endings before anything else). When the au evolved this no longer fit so here it is!

The party continued, once again a gathering of cocktails and cake. It was much brighter than the last one, Monty laughing beside Charlie, albeit in a subdued way. They were closer than they were before, but it was stifled. Jean sipped her gin and looked on.

The record player was playing a soft dance tune, some new record Reggie had bought in. Some people had begun dancing to a vaguely upbeat tune. Monty was tugging on Charlie’s hand saying something about ‘reliving old memories’. They started to dance, constantly grabbing, and connecting with each other. Jean watched as Bevan abruptly changed the record to a slower number and smile to himself.

***

Monty stiffened; his eyes widening. Charlie grabbed his hands and pulled him closer. He felt his heart betray him and stutter. These past months have felt like a chance to grasp back what he had lost, no matter how little he was given. Whatever fleeting moments Charlie gave him, he would hoard away and remember them.

“Never did this on our night out” Charlie spoke up.

“We were rather distracted” Monty commented back. They turned slowly, Charlie’s grip on his waist tightening as they were bought closer.

“It feels so long ago”.

“It was” Monty managed out “but-“

“What?”

“Did you ever regret leaving?” Monty asked.

“Sometimes” Charlie replied, “I missed this”.

“Dancing?”

“Being with you”

Monty buried his face in Charlie’s shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. It would be easy to just confess, to beg Charlie to stay and to mend whatever broke four years ago. Whatever happened over the last month, grasping those few moments of joy that came, snatching them up and keeping them close.

“I love being with you” he mumbled out “I’m going to miss you”.

“I’m going to miss you too, Monty” Charlie whispered.

His heart cracked, ignoring the feeling of once again losing what he had always wanted. The dancing slowed, coming to its natural conclusion. Monty clung on for a little bit longer. Charlie let him go slowly.

“I just need a moment” Monty managed out, turning away from Charlie, and walking out the room. He smoothed his hair back, rapidly thinking about how to let go. He wanted so much to be able to let go, to let Charlie slip back to his missions and wonder from afar what he was doing. But it was a struggle, to let him go again while knowing that something was still there. Four years and he was still just as gone for this man as he was when they first met in the meeting room.

“Monty!” Jean shouted from down the hall “Monty!”

“Leave me alone Jean” he replied, “whatever encouragement you think you can give, forget it”.

“I remember you being the exact same four years ago” she retorted “I’m not having you two let go of this again”.

“Jean, it doesn’t matter” he said “whatever we might have had, it’s gone. Whatever Charlie felt left the moment I was a coward”.

“Oh, give over Monty” Jean approached him “whatever attempts you’ve both made to move on, they’ve failed, you still love him”.

“Of course I do!” he shouted back “do you think I could just-“ he pointed at the door into the party “forget how much I adored that man? Forget the nights I spent with him and hoped they meant something more?”

“So, tell him!”

“What would that do? ‘Hey Charlie, I know you left for four years but I’m in love with you, please stay with me’”.

“You’re what?”

Monty turned to see Charlie, his eyes widening.

“I- I’m- Charlie I-“

“You’re in love with me?”

Monty looked around and Jean had disappeared, leaving them in the empty corridor.

“Monty, are you in love with me?”

Monty breathed deeply, looking into Charlie’s eye.

“Yes” he spoke out quickly “and you don’t have to say it back, I know-“

“Know what?”

“That you don’t love me?”

Charlie laughed, grabbing hold of Monty’s shoulders.

“Charlie it isn’t funny”.

“Monty” Charlie said softly “I had a crush on you before we even properly met”.

“You what?”.

I know / Of course you do.

“Before, before the meeting?”

“Yes, of course”.

“But we haven’t even met yet!”

“We met once when you came to visit the labs?”

Who’s this handsome chap then?

“When you had your short hair?” Monty laughed “Charlie that was 8 years ago”.

“And you stuck around since”.

Charlie grabbed a hold of Monty’s face, stroking along his cheek. Monty leant into it.

[bauhausluvr]

a lot happened today, good and bad, and im still processing it. but i'll try to retell it all below. warning: this will be long and graphic

major tw for self-harm

so i had class with M and everything was fine, I even got to talk with her a few times which i was really happy about. but later when we were doing our own thing, she got really fascinated with this one student which made me want to cry because i was jealous she was so intrigued and spent so much time with them. this student is also so much cooler than me so i understand why. i got super upset at myself for feeling this way, so with very little thought i left the room to go to the bathrooms and consequently slash my arm up

i had new blades and i was in such a state where i wasn't thinking so i wasn't careful with how i cut, i just wanted to do some damage, and i ended up bleeding much more than i usually would. once i saw how much blood there was on me and on the floor, i realised i had to stop the bleeding and used a bunch of paper towels to make it stop. eventually, unluckily for me, i ran out and spent a long time just rinsing my arm under the water (which in hindsight definitely prolonged the bleeding), but i couldn't go to the next stall for paper since there were people outside and it seemed to keep being taken.

had i not gone in the stall with barely any paper left i probably would've avoided this, but this led to me having to ask the people outside for paper and since i was kind of panicked i was saying i had a medical emergency, so this led to them getting a teacher down to check on me and basically the whole process of first aid coming down to bandage my arm n setting a welfare meeting for another day since this was at the end of the day.

what i didn't expect however was M to come down as well. i felt super embarrassed and ashamed once i saw her face, i didn't know how to react. but once she heard I was harming myself she came in to comfort me, even calling me her 'baby' when coming down and hugging me. i hugged her back tightly and sobbed into her shoulder, it was so comforting.. she has such a motherly charm its crazy. she soon revealed she also used to self-harm, even at work, which made me feel so much more at ease since i felt extremely bad about myself as i feel like i should've grown out of these feelings by now, but i clearly hadn't.

after all the paperwork and talk was done, i went back to her class to get my stuff back and found she edited my work and added her own little charm to it while i was gone (we were just playing around with an editing program) 😭. since everyone was gone by then i asked to talk w her alone and ppl kept coming in the class, so M grabbed my wrist gently and led me out somewhere where only us two can talk

i basically thanked her for her hug and all her kind words, and was sorry that she had to witness me at such a state. following this we talked for a little bit about her own struggles with self-harm and having to be sectioned, and about her thoughts on me which, i wish i could remember all the details, but i was so messed up i only remember it partly. regardless, it was lovely to hear and definitely what i needed at the time.

one of the best parts of this whole aftermath conversation was when i not-so-jokingly said i have mommy issues and she laughed saying "I KNOW" 😭😭😭. i was rlly taken aback by that so i stuttered and asked what made her come to that conclusion, and she basically just talked about stuff like my conservative mother and catholic upbringing which i brought up to her. she later said that she had her own struggles w her daughter and how she kinda sees that in me, to which i hesitantly said "i kinda wish you were my mum" and SHE SAID "me too right now" ?!!??"! IDK HOW I DIDN'T IMPLODE RIGHT THEN..

during this whole conversation we hugged so many more times and it was kinda awkward at one point cuz her lanyard got stuck on my cardigan LMFAO but it was so healing and awesome to talk w her about all this, even if i wish she didn't have to witness any of it. there's so much more i could say but if i gave all the details then this post would be 10x longer. obviously i didn't mention why i cut in the first place, and i'm contemplating even doing so to anyone cuz i don't want her taken away from me.

with all that said despite all the horrible stuff, something good came out of it and i'm grateful for that, although i worry it deepened my attachment to M even further....which honestly was inevitable at this point anyway.

[dannywashere]

I was talking about the “baba is you” stream it was like a puzzle game and when they couldn’t get the level they literally begged chat to let them look up how to do it and he was whining and stuttering when he was frustrated with the level too🤭

OH OH OH I HAVENT WATCHED THE FULL STREAM BUT YESYES

I did skip a bit into the stream just for context, here are my notes

he literally moans while saying his sentences like hel-fucking-lo?

okay but not all of the bod comments talking ab him saying specific words, like, not in a sexualizing way but THEY KNOW

they are all pointing out him saying eurethra or something idfk and they KNOW

The way he makes a sound every time he gets something wrong… like we need him to do that more, he knows his mistakes and knows he needs to give some sort of thing in return for his mistakes… in this case it’s his moans and whimpers :) <3

okay whenever he talks about walls he ends up moaning what is up w that

when he gets things right he makes noises or changes his tone in voice, he knows what we want. I’m telling you he’s seen the poppy side of the internet and fuels them with things. He is the only creator except for Tubbo and Wilbur that fuels everyone. Like y’all remember when Tubbo had coincidentally had a search recommendation (when he was like trying to search smthn it showed up in his history) for a Poppytwt acc? No one? And the fact that when Tubbo gets sexualized on stream he goes with it and the chat gets so confused, except us bc we KNOW. And Wilbur posing for his edits and moaning for his chat on stream for his poppy viewers. He makes sure to give attention to his entire community:) and Ranboo brings it all on the table, moans and all. AND LIKE HE KNOWS WE LOOK AT HIS BODY. HE TALKS ABOUT IT A LOT. IN A SEXUAL MANNER. And his body language like??? No one else?? I’m so happy I met him omg. Like i got to feel his waist in the hug like 😳😳😳 sorry sorry

i need timestamps

anon give me timestamps

imknow you can I believe in you

please

i have adhd I can’t just do this

In conclusion: anon please give me time stamps PLEASE get back to me.

[foggyfanfic]

Love and Fury

Chapter Preview: Leandra smirked at Bruno, “You know what, because it’s you, I’ll make it something easy.”

“Oh?”

“Tell me what my first name is.”

“Oh.”

CH 1 Prev Next Master List

Chapter 19 Detective Bruno

He was going to figure this out. He had to. Bruno was in way too deep to admit to his familia that he had no clue what was happening.

Well, he did have some clue what was happening. Rosalie had rejected Cicero and he had responded by doing something bad, maybe something that had caused her to be raped. Cicero had then offered to marry Rosalie and she rejected him again, at which point he started attacking other women.

In conclusion, Cicero was probably going to burn in hell.

He didn’t mean to judge, it was just, Bruno had been rejected a ton of times in his life. He’d never done anything so bad it led to a woman being raped. People had a right to reject him. They had a right to reject anyone. That was how life worked.

He worked on his list of potential crimes the day after Reina’s date with the creep. 

Rape was illegal, and there was no way any moral person could downplay its terribleness, but Encanto didn’t have any laws against being the cause of rape. Bruno could even see how some people would try to argue it’s not technically Cicero’s fault.

So that was probably what made Cicero a danger to the village. His actions somehow made his victims more vulnerable.

That eliminated half of the things on Bruno’s list. Spying on a woman while she was getting changed was wrong, but didn’t make her anymore vulnerable than she had been before. Same with groping women through their clothes.

Now, telling the wrong person delicate information about somebody might do the trick.

Bruno could see Cicero going down to the cantina and loudly complaining about girls who had rejected him to his many friends. Get the right guy all riled up and… voila, you have a hate crime. Then once you know what it takes, you could do it again and again.

He sighed, scratching his head with the pencil.

Leandra, who was thoroughly enjoying the pastries he’d brought to make up for her terrible day, looked at his list then rolled her eyes, “Bruno, I’m begging you, just talk to Pepa.”

“Now? After all this time?” Bruno shook his head, “Nuh-uh, she’ll have so many questions, the first of which will be why I didn’t ask sooner.”

“Well, it is a valid question,” she grumbled.

“I am very, very sorry I assumed you were evil,” Bruno told her, and he meant it, “I was wrong. You are one of the kindest, most noble people I have ever met, and I know now that you would never intentionally harm an innocent person. I promise, the next time you do something that looks bad, I’ll ask you why. Or, well, I’ll assume you did it without thinking, but I won’t think you did it maliciously!”

She smiled softly at him, “Thank you Bruno, I forgive you. Of course I do.”

“Great,” he nodded, “soooooooo?”

Leandra laughed even as she rolled her eyes again, she shook her head, “Alright. One clue, I will give you one clue, if! If you… agree to come swimming with me on Saturday.”

“I-I can do that,” he stuttered, blushing at his lap.

“You’re overthinking it,” she said.

“What?”

“You’re overthinking it,” she repeated with a shrug, “this whole thing is way less complicated than you think it is.”

“Oh,” he frowned down at his paper. He’s overthinking it. Simple, think simple.

He scribbled out the potential crimes and wrote down his clues again, adding “not complicated” to the list. Leandra glanced over the list and pressed her lips together.

“What?”

“You are such a sweet man,” Leandra told him. She had been wondering why he hadn’t already figured it out, but now that she saw “can be downplayed” on his list of clues she kind of got it. In Bruno’s mind, rape was undeniably bad, no pretending otherwise, end of story.

“What? Sweet?” he looked down at his list, trying to figure it out, “How am I sweet?”

“If I tell you, that would be another clue.”

“Well- alright, b-but couldn’t you tell me anyways? I… I can- name your price.”

Leandra smirked at him, “You know what, because it’s you, I’ll make it something easy.”

“Oh?”

“Tell me what my first name is.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed at his arm, mouth opening and closing before he finally tried, “Reina?”

Leandra giggled, shaking her head, “Try again.”

“J-Juanita?”

“No.”

“...Fernanda?”

“Colder.”

“Colder? I-in what way?”

“The first letter of my name is closer to ‘J’ than it is to ‘F’.”

“Oh, ok… Martina?”

She sang a part of the alphabet while counting letters on her fingers, “Warmer.”

“Hm, Olivia?”

“Colder.”

“So… the first letter of your name is between ‘J’ and ‘M’?” he asked, then when she nodded, thoughtfully mumbled, “‘L’ would be the most likely, wouldn’t it? I can’t think of many names that start with ‘K’.”

“You’re burning hot,” she said.

“Lola?”

“Lola?” she repeated, with a frown, “Do I look like a Lola to you?”

“W-well I don’t know, what does a Lola look like?”

“Not like me.”

“That seems a bit subjective,” he muttered, “Liliana?”

“Better, but no.”

“Luz? How about Lucianna? Lucia?”

“No, no, and no.”

Bruno wracked his brain for more “L” names and ended up quietly listing random words that started with the letter. Reina almost fell out of her chair laughing when he looked at her dog, looked at her, and in a desperate sort of voice, guessed, “L-Leche?”

“N-no,” she took a minute, bent over double, “w-why would me and Leche have the same name?”

“Maybe he’s named after you,” Bruno shrugged.

“He is not,” she giggled a little bit longer, “do you give up yet?”

“Do I still get the clue if I give up?”

“Of course not. And I won’t tell you what my name is.”

“Then no,” he idly scratched at the stubble on his chin as he thought, “How many letters does it have?”

“Uh, seven. Why? Does that help?”

“Not even a little bit,” he shook his head, “Uuuuuh, let’s see.”

They sat in silence for a long time as Bruno cast about for names, any time he remembered another name beginning with “L” he would count it off on his fingers, then frown and shake his head.

“Bruno,” she eventually interrupted his process, “I have an idea, it’s a little bit crazy, but I think if you give it a shot you might find it very helpful.”

“What?”

“How about you just ask?”

Bruno frowned, “No, no, I can figure this out.”

“Ay dios Bruno.”

He spent a little bit longer counting on, then scowling at, his fingers. Eventually his shoulders drooped and he heaved a big sigh, much like the ones Leche sometimes heaved when his dinner was a few minutes late.

“Reina?”

“Si?”

“Say I did ask…? Would I still get the clue?”

“You’d get the clue and I’d tell you my name.”

“Hm.”

“Really, if you think about it, communication could fix so many of your problems.”

“Humph,” he crossed his arms and scowled at the wooden counter in front of him. After a few beats he recounted the letters in every L name he could think of, just in case.

Reina started giggling, he didn’t have to ask why. He was being ridiculous and he knew it.

Bruno sighed again, hanging his head.

“Reina?”

“Gua- sorry. Sí?”

“What’s your first name?”

There was a pause, “Well, now I’m kind of tempted not to tell you.”

“What?!” he looked so deeply offended that she couldn’t help but break out into another peal of giggles.

“Bien, bien, I’ll tell you,” she smiled benevolently at him, “You ready?”

“Si.”

“You sure?”

“Reina, I swear-.”

“Leandra.”

“What?”

“My name is Leandra, it’s lovely to meet you,” she stuck her hand out for him to shake, and he took it.

“Leandra,” he breathed, slowly shaking her hand, “it’s pretty. A-and it suits you.”

“Gracias.”

Bruno continued to slowly shake her hand for a few more beats, eyes staring straight through her. Mentally, he was reviewing every moment they’d ever spent together and trying to replace the nickname “Reina” with the name “Leandra”. Eventually, he remembered himself and looked down at her hand in his with horror.

“Oh! Perdon, perdon, I-. Th-that was… weird of me. Perdon,” he let go of her hand like it had burned him, shrinking over to his side of the stall, but Rei- Leandra was already waving it off with a gentle smile.

“It’s fine, it’s not like I’m not constantly clinging to you like you’re a teddy bear.”

 He bit his tongue to keep from mentioning how much he liked it when she did that, and gave her a sheepish grin instead. He cast about for something else to say, and remembered why he’d started guessing her name in the first place.

“So uh, w-what does my list of clues have to do with me being sweet?” he asked.

“Oh. Right. Your morals are getting in the way here,” she shrugged, “you’re not going to get it until you put yourself in the shoes of a bad person.”

“A bad person…”

“Uh-huh.”

Bruno folded up the paper and tucked it into his pocket, he closed his eyes and focused, “Bad person, bad person, I am a bad person. I think being poor is a cosmic punishment. I adjust my junk while looking other people in the eye. I-I ask market vendors a million questions, move their stock, and ask for free samples then don’t buy anything.”

She bit her lip and refrained from pointing out that he was merely describing a rude person. He really didn’t have a cruel bone in his body.

Seriously, how was he still single?

No, wait, she knew why. It was probably because he didn’t notice flirting unless it was as obvious as a punch to the face.

Bruno opened his eyes and scowled at the countertop in front of him. Ok, what would a bad person do when they’re rejected?

“He hit her?” he asked, “Wait, no, that’s illegal.”

Leandra smiled at him fondly and shook her head, “Just talk to Pepa.”

“Why don’t you just tell me to jump off a cliff since you’re so intent on my doom,” Bruno gestured dramatically, then he groaned and put his hand over his face, “ugh, why is this so hard?”

“Again, you’re over complicating it,” she reminded him.

He took his list of clues back out and glared at it, waiting for the answer to just jump out at him. It didn’t. He looked at her, maybe she was susceptible to puppy dog eyes, he’d been told his were deadly.

Leandra just crossed her arms.

“Meirda,” he sighed.

She chuckled and shook her head at him again.

“Feeling better?” he asked, setting the list aside for now.

“Much, gracias,” she put a hand on his arm, “and I’m sorry about the way I reacted yesterday. I know that… he’s a spiteful man, i-if he figures out that I’m helping your mother investigate him, it’ll be good to have a friend around.”

Bruno smiled, “Don’t worry about it, I was technically spying on you.That’s uh, that’s kind of not okay.”

“Usually,” she agreed, “but I think in this case, I probably should have asked somebody to tail us. Although, I don’t know if-, I didn’t really want you seeing all that.”

She fiddled with her skirt, watching him from the corner of her eye. The thing with Cicero may have been a giant chess game, but she still didn’t feel comfortable kissing another man in front of Bruno. To be honest, she didn’t feel comfortable kissing another man, period. Having Bruno there just made it especially bad.

They weren’t technically dating, but she knew he wasn’t seeing anyone else, so she sort of felt that she shouldn’t be seeing other people too. At least until she was absolutely positive her feelings were one sided.

Bruno didn’t respond. He thought that she may be trying to protect his feelings when she said she didn’t want him seeing her with Cicero. If Bruno had to string somebody dangerous along in order to lure them into a false sense of security, he wouldn’t have been his first choice for back up either. What was Bruno going to do if Cicero attacked her? Throw sand around?

Félix and Felípe would have been better options. They were both strong, and Leandra was good friends with Felípe, so she could definitely count on the brothers to be there for her. Plus, Felípe had gotten into two separate fist fights protecting Rosalie’s honor in the past year, he’d won both of them.

“Ugh, what a creep,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose.

Bruno nodded, “Apparently. I can’t imagine hurting somebody just because they don’t want to date you.”

“Even worse, it’s because Rosalie didn’t believe him when he said he loved her,” she scowled into the middle distance, “so in order to prove her wrong he…?! Ugh!”

Bruno glanced back down at his list of clues, tapping the pencil thoughtfully against his lips. Cicero was definitely responsible for Rosalie’s rape somehow. Did he… did he drug Rosalie so he could prove how trustworthy he was? To show her that he wouldn’t take advantage of her in her vulnerable state?

It was a simple answer, and something he could see a bad person doing. It was illegal, but not a banish worthy offense, hard to prove, easily repeatable, and would explain why Leandra had panicked at the quinceanera. Plus, people might argue that because he didn’t intend for any long lasting harm to be done, he wasn’t actually responsible for the consequences of his actions.

Then when Rosalie turned him down for marriage he might have moved on and drugged other women to show her that what he did wasn’t that bad. That it didn’t always end in his victim’s life being ruined.

“I think… I think I’ve figured it out,” he said slowly.

“Have you?” He didn’t seem angry enough to have realized that Cicero tried to rape his sister.

“Did he drug Rosalie to try to prove he could be trusted?”

Leandra pressed her lips together and tapped her toes, “You… are on the right track. It’s worse than that.”

“Right, right,” Bruno made a note about Cicero’s spitefulness, “because he’s motivated by his anger.”

She made an affirmative noise.

He tapped the pencil against his lips a few more times, “I… don’t like any of the answers I’m coming up with.”

“Then you’re definitely on the right track,” Leandra said darkly.

He couldn’t be the rapist, right? It… she had said that people might try to argue that Cicero’s crime wasn’t that bad, and there was no denying that rape was an utterly disgusting, heinous crime. Plus, being raped had resulted in Rosalie being kicked out of her home, being shamed by the whole village, being treated like an outcast. How could anyone say that “wasn’t that bad”?

No. No, it couldn’t be rape. Bruno couldn’t believe that anyone would excuse that sort of thing. He knew people could be cruel, boy did he know, but that was a step too far.

He folded the paper back up and put it away. There would be more clues, eventually.

“So, swimming?”

“Sí, since you love throwing yourself in the nearest body of water, I figure we could make a day of it,” she grinned at him, blowing him a kiss when he scowled at her.

“Well maybe if you- I mean why are- If you weren’t constantly hiding next to the river, lying in wait, I would trip less,” he wagged a finger at her, enjoying the way she giggled.

“What can I say,” she curled her hands like claws, “it’s all a part of my evil scheme. Step one, throw food at Pepa. Step two, throw you in the river a few times. Step three, I’ll have to figure out later. Step four, take over the world.”

“Sounds like step three is going to be a real doozy,” he chuckled.

“Oh it is, just you wait,” she nodded, “I would do an evil laugh but I don’t know how. That might be step three actually, figuring out my evil laugh.”

“Oh, that’s easy, just watch,” he held up a finger and fixed his posture so he could use his whole chest for this. Bruno took a deep breath then let out a low gravelly chuckle that slowly built into a deep laugh with the occasional grating cackle mixed in. 

When he was done Leandra applauded him, “That was beautiful. A real work of art.”

“G-Gracias,” he responded, blushing under her praise.

“You should try out for next year's play,” she suggested, “you’re pretty good.”

The old shoemaker had started a community theatre that put on a play once a year for the harvest festival. Auditions had already passed for this year’s play, an adaptation of Hombre Caiman’s story, but there was already debate over what next year’s play would be. Bruno had always thought of trying out, but had never gotten up the nerve.

“Oh, I-I don’t think-, I mean I’m so busy doing, y’know, Seer things, and, and nobody wants to see a play with-. Well, you know, it… I-I doubt they’d give me a starring role, if you catch my drift,” he rubbed at his arm.

Leandra put a hand on his shoulder, “I want to see a play with you as the star, and anyone with an ounce of sense would see that your talent is way more important than your reputation. Hell, I bet once you get going people would forget they’re watching you, I’m sure if you wanted you could be completely invisible behind your character.”

Bruno smiled at her, “N-now you’re being sweet.”

“No, just honest,” she squeezed his shoulder, then took her hand back, turning to greet a pair of teenagers coming by for an afternoon snack.

He stared at her as she spoke to the teens, asking them about school and one of the kids’ apprenticeship. The other was the eldest son in his family, and thus was training under his father to inherit the foundry. Unsurprisingly, Leandra was able to make both kids laugh as she fetched them a wheel to split, and shared a couple of the pastries he’d brought her.

“Although technically, you should thank Bruno for these, he bought them,” she said.

The teens gave each other a look, but ultimately shrugged, turned to him and chorused, “Gracias Señor.”

“Oh, that’s- really it’s- you’re welcome,” Bruno said.

There was a brief pause, the teens staring at him, no doubt sensing blood in the water. He remembered well how cruel kids could be. 

Leandra made the tiniest sound in her throat, pulling attention back to herself, and asked one of the kids how their tia was doing. She listened intently to the answer, better but still ill, and gave the kid a small soap to give to the aunt in question.

Bruno felt tension ease out of his shoulders when the two teenagers walked away.

“They’re just slightly smaller people,” Leandra said, probably trying to reassure him.

“That’s the problem,” he retorted, “they’re people. People don’t like me.”

“Well they should,” she shrugged, “and I continue to believe that they would if they got to know you.”

He snorted, one side of his mouth quirking up, “Maybe.”

“I did,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re… really nice. A-And you like everybody.”

“No, I’m nice to everybody because I’m an adult who understands that just because I don’t enjoy a person’s company, doesn’t mean I have a right to be rude to them,” Leandra glanced around and dropped her voice, “the truth is I don’t like most people. Not because there’s anything wrong with them, just because I’m kind of judgie like that.”

“W-Wait, really?” he asked, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

“I mean… I don’t actively dislike many people, I just… don’t enjoy being around most people,” she continued in a quiet voice, “I think a lot of people are boring, or I get annoyed with them for being annoyed by something harmless, even though I get annoyed by harmless things all the time. I’m angry at a lot of people for believing the rumors about Rosalie, despite the fact that I’ve believed plenty of rumors myself. Like I said, this is me being a bit of a hypocrite so I try not to make it anyone else’s problem. I do my best to be polite to everybody, and only accept invitations from people I actually like.”

“Oh,” Bruno turned this new facet of her personality around in his head, it fit neatly with yesterday’s “upset with, but not blaming, me” thing. He figured he must not be one of the people she found boring, since not only had she accepted his invitation to a picnic, she had actively gone out of her way to spend time with him.

“Sometimes I think it’s just because I don’t spend enough time with people to feel comfortable around them,” she was frowning thoughtfully, “I mean, I enjoy Felipe’s company as much as I do Rosalie’s and they are pretty different. Other than the fact that I’ve spent a lot of time with both of them. I don’t… Growing up I only came down from the mountain for school and church, so I don’t know a lot of the villagers that well.”

“I… think I actually know what you mean,” Bruno said slowly.

“Sí?”

He nodded, “I don’t really know a lot of people that well either, and I don’t feel comfortable around… well basically anyone. S-sometimes I get these- these thoughts, and they’re not nice, a-and they actually kind of scare me sometimes, but I just… I just don’t like most people. I don’t trust them.”

She smiled at him gently, “That’s fair.”

“Is it?”

“I think so,” she shrugged, “people haven’t given you a lot of reasons to trust them. Or like them.”

He frowned down at his lap, then laughed sort of bitterly, “Yeah.”

“The important bit is that you’re still kind to people,” she indicated the pocket he’d tucked his list of clues into, “you’ve never done anything like that. Not even close. You still care about helping people and being empathetic. Even when people are being horrible to you. That’s really admirable.”

Bruno didn’t respond, he was simultaneously tempted to start complaining about every mean thing anyone had ever said to him in his entire life, and to try fishing for more compliments. 

Perhaps he should warn her to stop giving him the attention and approval that he so craved, every time she called him admirable, or a good actor, it got harder and harder to be normal about their friendship.

“Anyways, we’ve gotten really serious,” Leandra shook her head and laughed at the both of them, “let’s talk about something more fun. Like um… where do you want to go swimming?”

“How about-,” he hesitated, he’d been about to suggest the pool he’d caught her doing laundry in, but he needed to not say that, it was too intimate, “my cave?”

It took all of his will power to keep from slapping his forehead. That was possibly the only place more intimate than the pond.

Leandra raised an eyebrow, she thought about asking him if inviting her back to his bedroom for scantily clad, wet, fun meant anything, but decided not to push her luck. She didn’t want him rescinding the invitation.

“Sure, sounds like fun.”

“Great,” he said, tightly. The mixture of dread and anticipation he felt was almost interesting enough to distract him from the burning in his cheeks.

“I’ve actually had a dream about swimming in your pool, I think. It was kind of vague, but I was talking to a rat, so I assume.”

Bruno snorted, “That- yeah, that sounds like my pool.”

The conversation moved on to dreams, and how weird they could be. Bruno, thankfully, restrained himself from mentioning how many of his she had appeared in, but told her about the occasional prophetic dreams he had.

When Bruno got home that evening, he thought about talking to Pepa, he really did. But as his mind ticked over all the different possibilities, each more terrible than the last, he began to feel a bit queasy.

For the first time he wondered if he really wanted to know.