#already spent an hour explaining all the hot things he did to someone

[angel-in-your-basement]

New Dom obsession just dropped and I am trying with every fibre of my being not to just gush about him all over the place cause he fucked me up so good on call last night

[luna-andra]

StepDad!König Headcanons (SFW & Wholesome) ✨

Image @cozyhuii (@miss_bozo on Twitter)

Headcanons I thought up of König being a step daddy to reader's kid

A/N: Y'all got my very first König headcanon list to 600+ notes earlier today and I had to pump this one out. I had been in a writing rut for a while (still kind of am? But I'm finding my way back) and this is my way of showing my gratitude. StepDad!König originally was something I did for me (König being step daddy to my kid? YES PLEASE) but I made this gender neutral (& gn kid) like the other ones 🖤

Domesticated!König Series: Part 1 Part 2

I write other stuff too! Masterlist here 🖤

👑 His reaction was the better outcome you had thought up when König found out you had a kid from a previous relationship. Why would that deter him from continuing to date you? He was a man that didn’t view single parents as “spoiled goods”, and would quite frankly curb stomp someone if they heard them refer to you as such.

👑 He was aware of the possibility of you postponing and rescheduling dates, and unfortunately they did happen. “Sitter canceled? No problem.” “Mom/Dad bailed on their weekend? I get it.” You were so relieved by his patience and empathy for the times plans would fall through.

👑 It was clear to König that you were going to hold off on introducing him to your child. He had great respect for that rule, it meant you were very keen on not having a revolving door of people coming in and out of that kid’s life.

👑 As time went on, he would always show an active interest in your child by asking how they are doing in school? Did they still like [insert movie/TV show here]? He hoped they liked the treats he had bought at the PX on base.

👑 But the one time you seemed extremely defeated and bummed out about another postponed date, he took his chance and threw out the idea of hanging out - the three of you - at your house. You hesitated, but it had been nearly long enough for you to be okay with it. The guilt weighed on you considering it had been a hot minute since the two of you had any time for each other. König was such a sweetheart, reassuring you that this is how he wanted to spend his time, with you and your kiddo.

👑 Almost every date after that became an outing with the three of you. He was referred to as Onkel König by your child, a title that warmed his gigantic heart.

👑 Came to every sports game/martial arts competition/band or orchestra event/etc. Became as active as the bio mom/dad (if they were still around) in their extra-curricular activities. He didn’t want to miss a single thing.

👑 Speaking of bio mom/dad/ex-spouse, he made the conscious effort to be acquainted with them if they were still present in Kiddo’s life. As long as they were cordial, so was König.

👑 Spoiled the hell out of Kiddo for Christmas and birthdays. They wanted for nothing and sometimes you hated it but were also thankful that he has come to love a child that originally wasn’t his.

👑 We all know König is of older age given his rank of Colonel. It’s so funny when he has to ask you about lingo the younger kids use. “What is bussies and why do they want to go there so much?” That was fun explaining it to König as his face grew intensely pink at his ignorance. It’s best if he comes to you every time he hears something new fly out of that kid’s mouth.

👑 He always used German terms of endearment for the both of you, and Kiddo picked up German the more time they spent with König. It forced you to learn too (you were already learning but you were putting in extra hours after bedtime to stay ahead of them).

👑 100% a prankster. And oh god… did it get out of hand quickly. You had to sit both of them down to scold them about putting soy sauce in your coffee when you weren’t looking; that was the final straw. No one messes with the morning coffee. 

👑 Came home with a puppy from the animal shelter because Kiddo got an A on their test (failed to mention to König that it was a test they had already got rewarded for).

👑 The only time you ever saw this man cry was at Kiddo’s graduation. They said to their friends “Can you take a picture of me with my Dad? He showed up in uniform for this.” He held it together for the event, but let the tear loose on the way home.

Likes & reblogs are always appreciated! Asks are opened for requests & ideas for others. Might do some for Ghost in the future ✨

[leclerced]

something about you wanting Max to be your first time absolutely ruins him. the fact that you trust him enough to be this vulnerable with him?? the fact that you want him to take your innocence? it’s all so hot to him. the fact that nobody else has been able to have your body in this way? he swears that the hottest thing for him is how shy you seem in the pretty set of lingerie that you bought exactly for this situation. he wants to rip it off you, even if the white lace looks so fucking good on you

he knows that you spent money on the set but he would much rather see and touch what’s lying underneath

-

🩰

too add on to what i said earlier!! max is going to spend so much time just with gentle foreplay, because he wants this to be special for you. he wants your first time to be special, and he wants to make it something you’ll never regret doing. he wants this to be all about you, and he’s going to praise you so much during the entire thing. he’s going to take it slow as well, checking that you are comfortable, having you ask when you want to initiate the actual sex, things like that just prove that he wants this entire night to be all about you! -🩰

copied ur second asks here so i can answer them together 🫶🏻 read more for length.

ok this has been sitting in drafts bc i started an oscar virginity series but i have an idea where reader and max almost hook up after meeting at a club but then she tells him he's a virgin and he's like, "sorry but i am not gonna take your virginity like this, you'll probably regret it. you should do it with someone you know and trust."

he asks why she tried doing it in a one night stand and she tells him she just wanted to get it over with and that seemed easy. she hadn't even planned on telling him, or whoever, because she wouldn't see them again. he asks why she picked him and she tells him he was the first guy who approached that didn't gross her out, and he's like, "way to make a guy feel special." but she meant it in a good way. any other guy, she pictured having sex with and immediately was icked. she saw max, and she wanted to have him in her mouth. when she explains that, he certainly feels special.

queue reader and max hanging out and getting to know each other bc she is adamant that she wants to sleep with him, so if he thinks it should be with someone she knows and trusts, it just makes sense that they do just that. they wouldn't get to see each other often bc of his racing schedule, and she'd tease him that she's going to find a local guy to take her virginity because he's taking too long. he'd be internally panicking because like, he's made plans but he'd laugh at those messages and reply, "yeah, let me know how that goes." or, "you would have done that already if you really wanted to." and she gets all pouty bc she wanted him to tell her to wait for him, that he'll fuck her better than any other guy she'd pick up.

each time he has a few days off to go home, they do something new. max gets her comfortable with kissing him, grinding and taking each other's clothes off before he fingers her or goes down on her. once she's comfortable being touched and initiating it, max teaches her how to jerk him off and suck him off. he'd always ask her how far she wants to go, what she wants to do, etc. at first, she was expecting him to take the lead and decide what they would do, but he's always asking her what she wants, and later she’s crawling into his lap and asking him to finger her or go down on her. sometimes she'll say sex, and he's like, "you made me go back down to two fingers when i put a third in last night, so lets not. how about my mouth?"

when that happens, she usually thanks him a few hours later, "hey, uh, i'm glad we didn't rush it today. thanks for not letting me convince you in the moment, i guess." at first she’s a bit awkward about it like, “sorry i like jumped you earlier idk why i did that.” and he tells her he likes it when she tells him that she wants him, he wants her to be comfortable enough to do that.

after a few months, she asks if they can talk and she tells him she's ready. not right then, but she wants to do it the next time he's in town. they make plans for it and she knows without him saying it (even though he does, a dozen times) that at any moment, she can stop. while he's gone, she goes out and gets a new set, gets waxed if that's her thing, gets her nails and hair done. she wants to feel her absolute best, and if everything looks and feels perfect to her, she will feel exactly that.

there's not an ounce of nervousness in her when she sees max again, no second thoughts about what they're going to do. things move slower than usual, neither of them are in any rush and he waits for her to move onto the next thing each time. she’s kind of frustrated bc he knows what they’re about to do but he’s not making any effort to get undressed until she’s tugging on his shirt with one hand while the other is underneath and exploring bare skin. she has to take her own shirt off, and when he sees the white lace he kind of freezes up bc wow.

he spends so much time worshipping her body, refusing to take the lingerie off until she’s begging him to. he kisses her lips raw then covers her in love bites, praising her all the while. telling her how pretty she looks, how much he loves the set. she really loves his fingers and mouth, but after the third orgasm she’s starting to think he’s forgotten the objective. he doesn’t stop until she’s huffing at him for taking so long, and tells him that she needs to feel him in her. honestly though, he’s just nervous about it. he wants it to be perfect and now that he’s in the moment he wishes he had gone all out with rose petals and candles and bubble bath for afterwards. he’s so careful and asks if she’s sure a half dozen more times as he opens the condom, puts it on, arranges pillows under her hips, lines up.

he can’t let himself think about how good she feels around him, choking back moans so he can grit out the words, “are you okay? how do you feel?” like he can’t feel her throbbing around him, practically choking his cock. his head gets fuzzy because he feels so good, it’s been so long since he’s had sex. she’s jerked him off and blown him, but he hasn’t been with anyone else since they met and he agreed to take her virginity. and then there’s her, fluttering her eyes up at him as she gasps and tells him how good it feels, how full she is, and he’s not even halfway in. he’s probably doing breathing exercises to calm down his racing heart, holding onto the pillow under her hips with a death grip because he doesn’t want to bruise her hips with it.

[blackmarketfruitrollups]

Fireflies (Steve Harrington x fem!Reader)

Warnings: angst, alcohol, I'm pretty sure that's it.

A/N: So I kinda hate this, but here you go.

It's amazing how your world can fall apart in a single day. 

When catastrophic things happen to someone, they rarely ever woke up that morning expecting it. It comes out of nowhere, or at least that's how it appears.

But sometimes it's been building for quite a long while, and Y/N L/N had come to the conclusion that the longer it's been building, the more excruciating it ends up being.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

Absolutely infatuated. Falling hard and fast. As smitten as humanly possible.

These are all the ways Y/N's best friend, Robin, described watching Y/N interact with the dorky basketball player, Steve Harrington. What could she do about that though? It wasn't her fault that her childhood friend was so wonderful. 

For as long as both Y/N and Steve could remember, they had been involved in each others lives. Y/N's mother had been Steve's nanny from the time he was six months until he turned thirteen, so when Y/N was born it was natural that her mother bring her along when going over to the Harrington's home. By the time Y/N was five months and Steve was one and a half they were best friends, nearly impossible to separate from the other. Steve was her protector, and she was his firefly. 

An apt name, Robin decided, but only after she'd forced Steve to explain why, exactly, he'd decided to nickname her best friend after an insect. 

"She just lights up every room she walks into." Steve had smiled, watching Y/N from across the room. "And she's brightest around people she loves." 

"Ew." Robin's face scrunched up. "I knew you were a sap but damn."

Attached to the hip, that's how they were. Until middle school rolled around, and she had to watch as the popular kids decided Steve had enough potential to be one of them. He'd impressed them with his exceptional talent for basketball, the guys suddenly trying to recruit him for anything that had to do with the sport, and the girls drooling over the hot new kid that had already managed to make a splash in the social circles. 

Slowly, Steve's schedule was filled with basketball and social events, parties and dances and things that only people in the in-crowd were allowed to know about, and Y/N was slowly pushed out of both his schedule, and his priorities. She was still stuck in the past, trying to grasp a version of him that he'd left behind in his childhood, that's what Steve had told her. 

Gone were the days of sleepovers, laying in her backyard and watching the stars, swimming in his pool on hot days, giggling in blanket forts, and playing basketball. That was something he conveniently forgot to mention, Y/N had ranted to her mother. She was who had introduced him to basketball, she was who he played against for hours to get as good as he was, she was supposed to be his practice buddy forever, that's what he'd promised her one sticky summer night.

They'd spent all day playing basketball in his backyard, and they were both exhausted laying on the concrete and talking.

"You're getting pretty good at this, Stevie."

"You think so?"

"Yup. I bet you're gonna get even better too. Then you'll play in the big leagues, like in high school."  

"I wouldn't be this good without you, Y/N. You're the best practice partner ever." 

She laid there silent, her face heating up and confusing an eight-year old Y/N. Why did her face feel so warm?

"You the only person I'm ever gonna play basketball with." A nine-year old Steve declared.

"That's not gonna work, Stevie." She giggled. "You'll have to play against other people when we're older."

"Hmm." He considered for a moment. "Then you'll be my only practice buddy, ever. And we'll only ever practice with each other, forever." 

But he'd broken that promise as soon as seventh grade hit, and Y/N supposed that it wouldn't have hurt as much if they'd still been friends. He would've comforted her, wiped away any possible tears and somehow made her laugh. But they weren't friends anymore, were they? He'd left her, decided that she wasn't enough for him anymore.

Fine then. She didn't need him anyway, that stupid boy wasn't going to ruin her life just because he didn't want to give her the time of day. Whatever, let him get swept up in the popularity. 

Looking back, Y/N supposed that, despite how angry the middle school version of her was, there was still a part inside her that was continuously clutching to the hope that one day, her best friend would come back. But until then, she'd needed to find new friends. Real friends that weren't going to leave her at the drop of a hat, or the prospect of popularity.

Senior year of high school, what a journey it had been getting there. Both Steve and Y/N had been sucked into the drama with the Upside-down their junior year, thanks to Steve's infatuation with Nancy Wheeler, and Y/N just being in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

That's when they walked into her life, Robin Buckley and Andrea Davison.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

After the traumatizing things she'd faced in the Byers' home, Y/N had done her best to scrub her life clean of anything that had to do with Steve 'The Hair' Harrington for the rest of junior year. After ignoring her throughout middle school, and then allowing his so called 'friends' bully her through high school, Y/N wasn't about to just allow him back into her life just because they'd had to fight demogorgons together. 

But suddenly, Steve started popping up.

Everywhere.

He was bringing flowers to her mother, thanking her for all the years she'd spent taking care of him. He was spending time with her dad, who'd for some reason begun teaching Steve how to fix stuff on his car. He was in her art class for some reason, despite having sworn up and down his whole life that he would never ever voluntarily take part in such an "emasculating" subject.

At first she'd thought that maybe, just maybe, he was trying to impress her. Trying to fix their relationship and put effort into being a good friend, maybe he'd finally realized how much of a tool he'd been to her.

But Y/N wasn't who he was trying to impress, and she realized that when she saw him pinning Nancy Wheeler playfully to her locker, before starting to make out with her in the hallway. 

"Whatever." She'd told Andrea. "We haven't been friends in years anyway. It's no surprise that I'm still invisible to him, but who cares."

She did. She cared. But she wasn't going to admit that to anyone, especially not herself. 

At least, not until their senior year, when a sloshed Nancy Wheeler very publicly broke the heart of Steve Harrington at the biggest Halloween party of the season. 

Despite how painful it was, it seemed to have knocked some sense into the boy, and while the rest of Hawkins High was disappointed in how much 'King Steve' had mellowed out, Y/N was relieved to see that there was still some of the same kid from her childhood left in him.

That being said, him showing that he still had some resemblance of basic human decency didn't undo years worth of hurt, and Y/N continued to ignore him. She wouldn't talk to him when he showed up at her house. She walked past him in the hallways without acknowledging his existence, even though at some point he'd started to wave at her again. 

And she was content with this, atleast that's what she kept telling herself. It was better this way, because this way she wasn't going to get hurt. The douche had already proven that he would ditch her at the drop of a hat, and that wasn't going to happen again. Besides, he was only crawling back after perfect Nancy Wheeler had gotten tired of him, and if he thought she was going to be his rebound than that boy was more delusional than she thought. 

Her plan to get rid of him? Ignore him. And she was successful, until one day Andrea yanked her into the girls bathroom to talk.

"Alright, what's the deal with you and Harrington?" Andrea asked pointedly.

Y/N blinked, stunned. "Were you just standing there waiting for me? How long have you been in here?"

Andrea rolled her eyes, "That's not the point-" 

"Is this why I couldn't find you at lunch?"

"Just answer the question." 

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms and shifting her weight from side to side, avoiding Andrea's eyes. "Nothing is going on, he's just being weird."

"You call going around asking about you nothing?"

Her mouth fell open, turning and staring at her best friend. "Pardon?"

Andrea put her hands on Y/N's arms. "You haven't heard? He's been going around asking about you in art class. And Nathan heard him talking about you in the locker room."

Y/N's face scrunched up in confusion, panic filling her chest. What could he possibly want? Why was he asking about her? 

Andrea watched her with concern, as she just stood there without breathing. "Hey, you alright?" 

"Yup that's the plan." She nodded, biting her lip while she fixed her hair. 

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

"I'm sorry, your plan to get Harrington to stop asking about you is to show up to a party with his biggest enemy?" Robin asked. She and Andrea were sitting on Andrea's bed while Y/N examined herself in the mirror on her friend's vanity. They had all been getting ready for whatever party the football team was throwing this weekend when one of them had mentioned the basketball players.

"And is Billy aware that you're only going with him to piss Harrington off?"

Y/N snorted, "Oh please, he's only going with me to piss Steve off. We both have a common interest, y'know the whole 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend' thing." 

"Quick question, when did you start referring to him as Steve again?" Andrea smirked, making eye contact with her friend in the mirror. 

"I- uh. Shut up." 

"Your face is bright red."

"Robin you aren't helping!"

Y/N had met up with Billy after she and her friends had arrived at the party, and after wrapping his arm around her waist and parading her around in front of Steve a few times, it was on to the next chick. Whatever, she knew the whole reason they had shown up together was to get at him, but it would've been nice for Billy to wait more than ten minutes before ditching her. 

*~~~*~~~*~~~*

"I'm gonna go get a drink." Billy shouted over the music, before disappearing into the crowd of people surrounding them before she could respond. 

Nonetheless, mission accomplished, and now she could go find Robin and Andrea and get out of here. She really didn't see any point in staying when everyone at the party was already absolutely sloshed when they had showed up. 

Turning back towards where she was pretty sure the door would be, she started weaving her way through the rest of the teenagers, occasionally having to shove someone out of the way, when Andrea appeared in front of her. 

"There you are! I've been looking for you! Robin had too many jell-o shots and is wasted!"

"What? Is she okay?"

"Yeah she's fine, but Chelsea Roberts isn't!" Andrea shouted.

"What does she have to do with-?"

"Robin and I were looking for you and found Billy making out with some chick, and it was Chelsea! So Robin snatched her up off his lap by her gross perm and splashed some jock's drink in Billy's face!" 

"WHAT?" 

"Don't worry! I have Robin hiding in a broom closet! I'm gonna pull the car around, so we can leave before Billy finds her! Do me a favor and go get her!" With that, Andrea turned and dissapeared, leaving Y/N there groaning.

Making her way through the sea of people back the way she came, Y/N started walking up to random doors and knocking, (not wanting to be scarred for life) before slowly opening the doors and peeking inside, looking for her friend.

Opening the fifth door, she glanced inside to find a kitchen, starting to close the door before she heard a sad chuckle.

"Hargrove, really?" 

Y/N paused, pressing her eyes shut and squeezing the door knob harder than necessary. "I'm not doing this with you."

A scoff came from the other side of the door. "You can't ignore me forever." 

She swung the door open and made eye contact with a melancholy Steve Harrington, sitting on the kitchen counter next to the punch bowl and red solo cups, a half empty bottle of vodka in his hand. "Oh yeah? Watch me." 

She turned to walk away, when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward him. "I'm not gonna let you keep ignoring me."

Y/N swung around, getting in his face. "You did it for years, don't complain now that it's my turn to pretend you don't exist."

She ripped her arm out of his grasp and yanked the door back open, set on getting away from him and finding Robin so they could leave. 

Footsteps followed behind her, and she turned to find Steve following, eyes bloodshot but determined as he kept a firm grip on the bottle in his hand. "You realize he's a player right? He's only interested in a hit it and quit it!" 

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it?"

"I'm being serious!"

"So am I." 

"Look I helped save your life!" Steve started, making her pause. She glanced around nervously to make sure nobody was listening before continuing to look through rooms.

"I never asked you to do that."

"But I did, and you owe me! Atleast a basic conversation!"

Y/N swung around, steam pouring out of her ears as she stared at the man who had so much audacity as to feel entitled to a spot in her life despite mistreating her for years. 

"I'm sorry, I owe you? I wasn't the one who abandoned their best friend for some rich, self centered pieces of shit! Do me a favor and go back to pretending I don't exist, so I can hate you in peace." 

She turned around and ripped open the only door she hadn't opened, absolutely fuming, when she saw Robin sitting on the floor giggling. 

She leaned down and swung Robin's arm over her shoulders hauling the girl off the ground and trying to stumble out of the closet with her, straining. 

Determined, she started trying to drag Robin toward the front door, walking past Steve while he continued trying to talk to her. He finally stopped and looked at her, sighing, before walking over and slinging Robin's other arm over his shoulders. 

"Uh, what do you think you're doing?" Y/N glared.

"Helping you get her to the car before Hargrove finds her, is that okay firefly?"

Every hair on her body shot up as she turned and scowled, the old nickname stabbing at her heart instead of bringing comfort like it used to.

"Don't you ever call me that again, do you understand?"

"I-"

"Do you understand me Harrington?" 

He nodded silently.

With that, the both started hauling a still giggling Robin out the front door and to Andrea's car. They layed the girl in the back, and she quickly fell asleep, snoring loudly after Y/N tossed a jacket over her.

"Well," Andrea wiped her hands. "This has been a fun night." She turned and crossed her arms, glancing between the boy that was awkwardly standing there, and her best friend who looked ready to murder someone. "So I'm gonna get in the car, you guys hash out whatever this is quickly so we can get home."

With that, she shot Y/N a wink and slid into the driver's seat of her car. 

They turned toward each other, awkwardly eyeing the other person before Y/N cleared her throat.

"Uh, thank you. For, y'know." She gestured at the sleeping girl in the car.

"It wasn't a problem." Steve smiled. "And I'm guessing you won't be going out with Hargrove again, because of all that." 

"Yeah, probably not." She sniffed. "So, goodnight."

She turned and started hurrying toward the car, and he started after her again. "C'mon please, I've been trying for months and this is the first time you've actually talked to me."

"Well I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in anything you have to say. Your actions over the last few years have said enough." But as her hand closed around the handle to the car, she hear the click of car doors locking, and made eye contact with her smirking best friend.

"Andrea you suck!" She shouted.

"You'll thank me later." Andrea smiled. 

From behind, Steve very gently turned Y/N around, pulling her a few steps away from the car before speaking. "What did I do to make you hate me so much, firefly?"

She glared up at him, starting to blink away tears. "I told you to never call me that again." 

He stared at her, something soft and warm glimmering in his eyes, and pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. And everything came pouring out.

"You abandoned me." She whispered. "You were my best friend and you left as soon as something better came along, and I will not be your backup just because your girlfriend dumped you." 

He watched her carefully, watched as tear tracks tattooed themselves down her cheeks, her mascara starting to run ever so slightly. Her hair was a little messy, having been undone between carrying Robin and making her way through crowds, and her face red from both anger and sadness. Yet she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he would withstand a lifetime of her yelling at him just to be graced with her presence.

"I needed you, Steve. And you just left and forgot about me."

"I know, sweet girl." He gently wiped the tears from her eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. "And I will never be able to apologize enough for that. I was an absolute idiot to not realize that I had the best thing in the world right in front of me, and I can only beg you to forgive me." 

He gazed at her lovingly. "And if you'll allow me, I will spend a lifetime making it up to you. I've missed you more than I can express, but being around you makes it feel as though I can finally breathe for the first time in years." 

She looked at him and huffed out a laugh. "Who knew alcohol made you so poetic."

"It's one of the many wonderful things about me." He grinned.

She cracked a smile, before looking at him seriously. "You really hurt me Steve, and I'm not gonna be able to forgive you right away. It's gonna take work, and if you're not willing to put in the effort than don't waste my time." 

"I've learned my lesson firefly, and I'm not letting you go again." 

[lelitachay]

Frozen fanfiction: Søsken

Summary: An accident in the North Mountain forces Elsa to spend several weeks in her brother’s apartment under Anna’s care. During that time, Anna realises there is more to Elsa than meets the eye. The truth about Elsa’s past comes to light after an unexpected family reunion, and both girls’ lives begin to fall apart when they realise Elsa wasn’t the only one with a big secret and a turbulent past.

Anna/Kristoff - Elsa - Family - Family drama - hurt/comfort - Modern AU - Elsa & Kristoff are adoptive brother and sister - Ice bros - Found family - Serious injuries - Mental health issues - Health issues - Frohana

Links:

Fanfiction.net - HERE AO3 - HERE

Tumblr -

Chapters 1 to 10 - Here Chapters 11 to 20 - Here Chapters 21 to 30 - Here Chapters 31 to 40 - Here Chapter 41 - Here Chapter 42 - Here Chapter 43 -Here Chapter 44- Here Chapter 45 - Here Chapter 46 - Here Chapter 47 - Here Chapter 48 - Here Chapter 49 - Here -

Armistice

“It needs to be someone we can trust.”

“We already know that; I don’t see why you keep insisting on discussing this when the three of us could easily do it.”

Sitting on the far corner of the old café, Anna took a sip of her coffee as she watched Kai and Nielsen argue, debating for the umpteenth time things that had already been discussed.

The only thing keeping Anna inside the café was knowing Gerda would show up at any moment. They’d all be together to decide what was best to do about Elsa’s care, which was the last item on their list.

What was left to decide was important, even more so than what to do about Haugen, in her opinion. But the longer they stayed away from Elsa, the more impatient she became. After having heard Kai, Nielsen and her father argue about the legal aspects of going against Haugen for almost an hour, there was nothing she wanted more than to go back to the hospital and see her sister. She was tired of the what-ifs and hypothetical scenarios. All they did was increase everyone's paranoia instead of offering real solutions.

She took another sip and placed the cup on the table, keeping a firm hold on it with both hands. The warm ceramic cup offered a soothing feeling and helped her keep her mind far away from everything for a few seconds. It reminded her of the evenings spent in Elsa's cottage, playing cards and enjoying hot chocolate. If she closed her eyes and tried hard enough, she could almost pretend the last week was nothing but a sick nightmare.

Though the comforting feeling didn't last more than a minute, breaking the spell and forcing her back to the sad reality. Despite what she had tried to show on the outside, her argument with Marshall had truly affected her. The mountaineer was starting to lose hope and it made her wonder if anything they were doing was even worth doing. What was the point of quarrelling for over an hour about the upcoming weeks when Elsa was still hopelessly unconscious? Were they doing the right thing or were they simply wasting their last chances to say goodbye?

The thought alone was enough to fill her eyes with tears.

She closed them tight and tried to get rid of the awful feeling before Kristoff noticed. She didn’t want to tell him Marshall was losing faith. She didn't want to give him another reason to stay awake, turning in bed at night.

With just a quick glance, she could see the dark circles under his eyes and the now ever-present frown drawn on his face. Their sister's serious condition was taking a toll on him, and Anna worried he wouldn't be strong enough to deal with whatever happened in the upcoming days.

“I told you —both of you— I just want to stay by her side. I don’t want nor need to discuss any of this.”

Gerda's voice pulled Anna back to the present and she was surprised to see her standing in between Kai and Nielsen’s chairs. Too absorbed in her own thoughts, she hadn't heard the woman enter the bar nor greet them.

“Gerda, this is—” Kai tried to explain, but she stopped him.

“I can't deal with the pressure of looking after Elsa and making these choices, Kai. I just can't.” With her arms crossed over her chest she left no place for arguments.

“Mum,” Kristoff called, his voice low and tired. “I asked them to call you, okay?”

A sad smile painted Gerda's face as she locked eyes with her son, who was sitting on the opposite side of the table next to Anna.

“Dear… I didn't see you there.” She then looked around, nodding to Anna and Agdar as she realised they were there as well. “How are you?” She got closer to where Kristoff and Anna were, so as not to raise her voice and disturb the rest of the people in the café. “Have you eaten anything?”

The unconditional love she gave her adoptive children was something that never failed to amaze Anna. Even now, when she had more than a justified reason to focus on other things, the first instinct was to make sure her son was okay before anything else. Anna knew Gerda was merely pretending to be strong at that point, but somehow she was still able to seem stronger in her son's presence.

“Have you?” Kristoff asked. 

She averted her eyes. “Something… this morning.”

He quickly glanced at his watch, “It's almost five.”

“Don't worry.” Gerda moved her hand in the air, downplaying his concern.

“We do worry,” Nielsen interrupted. He placed his empty cup of tea back on the table and intertwined his fingers, resting his chin on top of his hands. “That’s something we need to discuss.”

“Jonnas, for the last time,” Gerda said before he began scolding her like a child. “As long as Elsa's in there I'm not leaving. Someone needs to stay by her side at all times.”

“Is there someone with her right now?” 

It was the first thing her father had said in the last twenty minutes, and Anna couldn’t help but see him as a stranger. Always outspoken, her father was used to having the last word, not to be a mere witness in a meeting. Now that the conversation revolved around Elsa’s care, Anna found her father’s silence unsettlingly necessary.

Gerda nodded in response, but didn't say anything to him. Instead, she turned her attention back to Nielsen and their conversation. “We can't leave Elsa alone.”

“And we won't,” Nielsen agreed. “That’s the reason I needed you in this meeting.” 

Gerda opened her mouth to speak again but he raised his hand stopping her.

“So far I found no reason to suspect Elsa's treatment has been impaired in any way.” He was addressing the whole table, making sure everyone was aware of the situation. “The medical team is doing a remarkable job and I don't have any reason to suspect they have been running unnecessary tests.”

“That's a relief,” Agdar murmured.

“I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary either,” Gerda said, agreeing with Nielsen.

“However, this doesn't mean the nurses won't receive odd requests from Haugen in the upcoming days.” Nielsen warned them. “Elsa's recovery is just beginning and we might need to keep an eye on her and the medical team for several weeks.”

Anna raised her head. “Weeks?” 

“Even if Elsa were to wake up tomorrow,” Nielsen explained. “She'd still have a long way to go before she could go home. And I'm not bringing her powers into the mix here. Sepsis is a serious matter, its recovery a long process.”

“Do you think her powers will compromise her recovery in any way?” 

“To be honest…” He let his finger skim the page of an old journal Anna had seen him carry during the last few days. He turned the page and scanned the content in the new page as well. “I have no idea what will happen. Past experience suggests they will go out of control at some point. My main concern is the medical team losing focus or starting to doubt our word. If this happens, they’ll turn to Landvik or Haugen for answers.” He took off his glasses, and neatly put them away. “I need competent people looking after Elsa. Gerda is the ideal person, but she can’t keep doing it on her own. That means I need someone who can keep an eye on the nurses and help Elsa control her powers in case they go out of control when she wakes up.”

“We'll take turns,” Kristoff said, not understanding the problem. “The three of us.” He pointed to his father, Anna and himself. “It’ll give mum extra time to rest.”

“I appreciate the offer, Kristoff,” Nielsen said sympathetically. “I have no doubt you’d do the absolute best; but sadly, your presence would be useless.”

“Useless?”

“Even if you stay by her side at all times, you wouldn't know what the medical team is doing.” Gerda explained, hoping her son didn’t take the doctor’s words to heart.

“Not to mention the ICU is a delicate matter. You’d need to know what’s best to do in dire situations. The patient's condition can change in a matter of seconds and it could be counterproductive to have you around.”

“More counterproductive than mum being tired to the bone?”

Kristoff was getting mad, Anna didn’t need him to raise his voice to notice, but she could understand Nielsen’s predicament. Even if she did her very best, she wouldn’t know what to do as soon as the machines around her sister started beeping erratically.

“Kristoff, I understand you want to help, but in this situation I am still the best option. I can look after your sister. Don’t worry.” Gerda tried to reason with her son as well as convince Nielsen she could still do the job.

“No, you can’t.” Nielsen countered. “You can't keep going on like this. You're exhausted. And if you don't start taking breaks and looking after yourself, I'll restrict the time you can stay by her side.”

Turning her head as fast as lightning, Gerda looked daggers at the doctor. “You wouldn't dare.”

Ignoring Gerda’s murderous look, Nielsen raised his cup of tea and took a slow sip before he spoke again. “Don't push me, Gerda.”

“What do you suggest then, Nielsen?” Kai asked, sounding a lot more tired than he had all day. “I agree Gerda needs rest, but where will we find a trustworthy person who can keep an eye on the medical stuff?

Nielsen stayed quiet for a minute, thinking about their options. “Isn't one of your brothers a force medical examiner? Ask the department to request his presence in town.”

“No,” Kai said firmly, not thinking twice about his answer.

“Uncle Nikolai is a great idea,” Kristoff said.

“I can't request my brother’s presence on the other side of the country without a good reason,” Kai answered seriously. “Not to mention I’m not on duty at the moment.”

 Knitting his brows, Kristoff took a hard look at his father, trying to understand his reasoning. “Then call him. Tell him to take some time off.”

“I can’t ask him to fly all the way here all of a sudden.”

“Why the hell not?”

“What do I tell him, exactly?”

“Perhaps tell him his niece is dying, I'm sure he'll get the message,” Nielsen said, mindlessly, interrupting the argument between father and son. The normally composed doctor now seemed to be running out of patience. It was only when he noticed the dejected looks and tense silence on the table that he realised his mistake. “I'm sorry. I didn’t mean—” He cleared his throat. “I’m having a hard time following Kai’s reasoning, that’s all.”

Gerda was the first to find her voice and decided to explain the situation better. “Even though Kai's brothers, as well as my sister, know we adopted Elsa, they haven't met her.”

Everyone except the Bjorgman family blinked incredulously at Gerda. Anna knew about Kristoff’s aunt and uncles. He had mentioned sharing meals and travelling to visit them when he was a teen. It made no sense for Kristoff to meet the rest of the family and not Elsa.

“Elsa's been part of your family for over ten years,” Nielsen stated, as confused as Anna.

“They tried to talk us out of adopting her,” Gerda said. She didn't want to look at Kristoff while she explained the reason why his sister had never travelled with him to visit them. Her son held his aunt and uncles in great esteem and she had tried to keep the truth from him for as long as possible. “We told them bits of Elsa's past. Her unusual upbringing and about the police investigation… They insisted it was a bad idea. We never even get to mention her powers; they were all determined to convince us adopting Elsa was a mistake.”

“What?” Kristoff said, his fists tightening under the table.

“They kept insisting she was bad news,” Kai said, helping Gerda. “We thought it was best to keep Elsa away from a judging family.” 

Kristoff frowned, fixing his eyes on the wooden table. His silence didn't betray how much the news affected him, his fists, however, told another story. Wishing to offer him some comfort, Anna put her hand in his in an attempt to stop it from shaking.

“Great. Just great,” Nielsen exclaimed, before Kristoff could gather his thoughts. “You have someone in the family who can actually do something for her and—”

Knowing getting into arguments with one another wouldn't lead them anywhere, Anna interrupted the doctor. “Dr Nielsen, could someone outside the family look after her?”

He took a deep breath, calming himself down before he returned to a more professional role. “As long as it's someone I can trust, it’s possible. I'll need to come up with a good reason to allow the person in, the ICU is a tightly controlled area.”

“Elsa's closest friend is a paramedic,” she said, hoping a paramedic was good enough. “Is it possible to let him in?”

Kai and Gerda looked up, knowing exactly who she was referring to. Their facial expressions, showing entirely different reactions from one another.

“Marshall,” Gerda exclaimed. “Marshall Hålkesen. I completely forgot about him.” She turned to Nielsen, a small smile drawn on her face.

“Hålkesen…” Nielsen murmured, pondering. “Yes. That's the kind of person we need.”

Before Anna got the chance to say she knew where to find him. Kai interrupted their short-lived excitement. “No. We'll take turns and look after Elsa ourselves. It's best if this stays in the family.”

Doctor and nurse frowned at Kai, not at all pleased to keep stretching the meeting. Gerda, wishing to go back to her daughter’s side as soon as possible, tried to reason with her husband. “They won't let you. They won't let any of you stay longer than an hour or two. We need someone who has had medical training.”

“He helped us the night Elsa's sepsis showed its first symptoms,” Nielsen said, convinced Marshall was their best choice. “He not only knows what to do, he also knows how to deal with Elsa's powers. When her fever broke and her powers went out of control, the man didn’t even flinch.”

“I don't think we should get him involved.”

“Kai, the kid's a paramedic,” Gerda said, exasperated.

“He used to be a paramedic.” Kai tapped the table with his finger emphasising the past tense. “Nielsen,” he then said, hoping the doctor would be the first to agree with him. “You fired him. You can't honestly think it's a good idea for him to look after Elsa.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Nielsen drew in a deep breath. “Kai, I told you the other night, I only fired him because I had to. He made a mistake.”

“He beat up a guy until he was unconscious. That's hardly a mistake.”

Anna couldn’t stop herself from flinching. The conversation had steered in a way she wasn’t expecting, and it made her wonder if she had done the right thing suggesting Marshall’s name.

“He was ordered to do community service and anger management therapy. He served his time and attended therapy.” Nielsen explained. “What else do you want the man to do?”

“If he had done as he was told, the hospital would’ve reincorporated him. I know the drill.”

“I called Hålkesen myself when we got his therapist’s report stating he was clear to go back to work. He’s the one who denied the offer. He was moving back to the mountain and didn't want to work as a paramedic anymore.”

Anna could see Nielsen was not at all comfortable divulging Marshall’s private affairs, and it helped her feel better. It was obvious he knew exactly what had happened and still thought Marshall was a good option.

“I don't want him near my daughter.”

“Well, I do.” Gerda said, crossing her arms.

“Gerda, please,” Kai begged. “See reason.”

Gerda stayed quiet, not giving in. The couple’s disagreement was getting on Nielsen’s nerves and so he took the initiative, turning to the rest of the people on the table. “The rest of you, what do you think?”

Anna looked around, hoping to hear Kristoff’s opinion on the matter. He was the only one there who had seen Marshall’s reaction a few hours before and his opinion was the one that truly mattered to Anna. The last thing she wanted was to make a grave mistake. She waited for him to speak, but he still kept his eyes fixed on the wooden table. She turned to her father, and even though he seemed to have an opinion he was keeping to himself.

Knowing the two of them wouldn’t break the silence, Anna finally said, “I suggested his name so…”

“Son?” Kai called Kristoff’s name, hopeful he’d agree with him.

Kristoff raised his head, looking back at his father for a brief moment. He then looked down again, playing with a paper napkin, taking his time before he answered, “Elsa rarely talks about the things she’s gone through. She seldom speaks about her fears. But even though she tries to hide it, I know she’s terrified of ending up alone. Being left behind…” Taking a deep breath, he found his father’s eyes once more. “Look around, Kai. We are all the people she has. If she were to lose us, there's no-one left. Not even your family was willing to give her a chance.”

“What does it have to do with anything?”

Anna had a deep respect and admiration for her father-in-law; at times, however, she considered his overly formal demeanour exasperating. Kristoff, on the other hand, was used to it. He didn’t lose his patience nor yelled at his father to understand what he was trying to say. He simply sighed once again and explained, “We have no right to forbid Marshall from seeing her. Especially now that he can help us.”

“Kristoff—”

“He knows about her powers,” he began to explain, counting with his fingers every reason they had to choose the mountaineer. “He's willing to help. Mum and Nielsen trust him. Anna and I know he won’t leave her alone… What else do you want?”

Kai opened his mouth to counter his son’s reasoning. Anna swore she could see the gears turning in head, wishing to find a logical reason to keep Marshall away from Elsa, but after a few seconds he pursed his lips and stayed silent.

“So, it's settled. Marshall will look after her during the night, giving Gerda enough time to rest.” Nielsen said after Kai went silent.

“There’s just one thing,” Kristoff said, calling the doctor’s attention. “I wouldn't tell him about Haugen’s threat.”

“He needs to keep a close eye on Elsa's health.”

“I know,” Kristoff nodded. “But I also know he’d go after Haugen if he finds out.”

“So you agree with me,” Kai interrupted. “He's unhinged.”

That last comment seemed to set Kristoff off and another argument erupted between the Bjorgman family. Gerda and Kristoff both stated their point of views against Kai while Nielsen scrubbed his face with his hands. At some point, Agdar leaned closer to Anna, asking if Marshall was the hooligan who had stopped by their house a couple of months before. Something about her father’s question, as well as the argument, was Anna’s last straw. Before she could stop herself, she raised her voice, stopping the argument and surprising her father.

“We can’t go on like this,” she said in a lower tone when everyone was paying attention to her. “If I had known I would only drag this meeting longer than necessary instead of offering a solution, I would have never said Marshall’s name. It’s just— I’ve seen how much he cares. He’s been coming here every day. All he’s been asking for is to see her. He wants to help and get the chance to say goodbye in case she doesn’t make it… For some reason I don’t understand we won’t let him in, and we won’t use the limited time we have to stay by Elsa’s side. Instead, we’re here, arguing and fighting.” She stopped to dry a couple of tears and gather herself. “I’ll go back to the hospital. I know where to find Marshall in case you make up your mind.”

Standing up abruptly, Anna didn’t wait for an answer, she simply left the café. Walking fast to the hospital, she wished visiting hours weren’t over. At least get to see Elsa for a few minutes. Tell her she was loved and let her know they were all there for her. Perhaps she could tell her why Marshall hadn’t visited. No matter how afraid she was, no matter what the rest of the people said, she wouldn’t give up on her sister, but she wouldn’t miss the few chances she had to see her and talk to her.

She didn’t get to do those things, however. She was waiting for Andrea to allow her into the wards when Kristoff called her name. He had run after her as soon as Kai was outvoted, leaving the rest of the family to deal with the aftermath and pay the check. He explained they needed to find Marshall. Nielsen would have all the paperwork ready by the time he showed up. The doctor wished to meet Marshall a few minutes before eight, when the nurses changed shifts, and this time Gerda, would change shifts.

--

Getting out of the car, Anna looked up at the tall brick building in front of her and breathed out nervously. She didn’t regret telling Kristoff to stay at the hospital, she wanted one of them to spend some time with Elsa after all, but she couldn’t deny how anxious she was about talking to Marshall so soon after their heated argument. She was certain he wouldn’t mind her visit, given the news she was about to give him. She could only hope he’d give her the chance to speak, though, before he slammed the door on her face.

She stood by the main door and examined the rows of buzzers, wondering if Marshall had ever mentioned which apartment his mother lived in. Nothing came to mind, so she took a guess and pressed one of the buttons at random. As soon as she did, she realised she had no idea what Marshall’s mother was called and she felt stupid for not thinking about her approach more carefully. She had limited time to find Marshall and convince him to help them — though she was certain the latter wouldn’t be an issue —, but still she wondered if there wasn’t a faster way than buzzing apartments at random until she found the woman she was looking for.

Before a better idea came to mind, an old man spoke through the buzzer. Trying her luck, she briefly explained she needed help finding Marshall Hålkesen and that his mother lived in the building. The first two men said they couldn’t help her. On the third try, however, a young woman recognised the surname and informed her there was a woman named Hålkesen living on the seventh floor. With a smile, Anna thanked the woman and soon after buzzed apartment 7A, B and C.

Once again, the third was the charm and the woman in apartment 7C told Anna she was Marshall’s mother. Surprised her flimsy plan had worked, Anna took a moment to come up with something coherent to say. “Hello, hi,” she said, again, buying herself some time to think her words carefully. “I'm sorry to bother you. My name’s Anna. I know you don't know me but I— I’m looking for Marshall. I was wondering, has he gone back to the North mountain? Or is he still in town? I need to contact him. Urgently. It’s about his friend. Elsa.”

“Oh, Lord. Umm…”

Anna could hear the hesitation in the woman’s voice, making it clear she knew exactly who Elsa was.

“I’m buzzing you in.”

Anna was surprised at the woman’s trusting attitude. She was more than aware her voice didn’t sound threatening over the speaker; but still, it seemed strange for the woman to allow her into the building so easily. Anna thanked her when the door opened and she double-checked the apartment number before going in.

She didn’t think much of the lack of a lift in the building at first. The building was old and clearly built before lifts became mandatory in taller buildings. After getting to the fifth floor, however, she began to feel sorry for the woman she had just spoken to. Living on a seventh floor and having to climb a mouldy staircase every single time she got home was something Anna hoped she didn’t need to do at an older age. She could understand why Marshall’s mother would have chosen the city instead of the wilderness to live, though there wasn’t much of a difference between the mountain and climbing that particular set of stairs.

Anna could have sworn the air got thinner as she made it to the woman’s apartment, and she made a mental note to start training alongside Elsa and Marshall once her sister made a recovery. ‘If she makes a recovery,’ her mind was quick to correct and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

Shaking off the awful feeling, she knocked on the door and hoped the woman would be kind enough to offer Marshall’s phone number. Nielsen had made it clear he needed him at the hospital by eight, and it was already five past seven. She wouldn’t have the time to drive all the way to the mountain, find his cottage, and much less travel all the way back in less than an hour. The door opened after a short moment, and Anna was nonplussed at the tall and thin brunette who was standing on the other side. The kind, grey eyes looking back at her were exactly like Marshall’s, making Anna wonder if perhaps he had a much older sister.

Taking a step back, Anna checked the plate on the wall, making sure the apartment was in fact correct and this made the woman smile. “You must be the girl looking for Marshall. I’m Lena, his mother.”

Anna blinked a few times, wondering if she had heard correctly. As far as she knew, the mountaineer was at least four years older than Elsa, the reason why Anna was expecting someone older. Not someone who seemed to be around her mother’s age — if not younger. Anna blushed when she realised she had stayed quiet and, feeling silly for staring in an awkwardly obvious way, she apologised. “Yes, sorry. I was expecting someone old— I mean… I’m Anna.” She extended her hand, hoping the woman wouldn’t take offence and wished the day would come when she learnt to keep her big stupid mouth shut. 

A sweet smile drew on Lena’s face as she shook Anna’s hand. “Would you like to come in?”

Anna smiled back, thankful for Lena’s hospitality. She nodded and was about to step into the apartment, when a hand grabbed the door forcefully, moving Lena out of the way and stopping Anna in her tracks.

Marshall stood in front of Anna, looking taller than he had before. “What are you doing here?” Marshall said in an almost intimidating voice.

“Marshall!” Lena berated him, but Marshall ignored her.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Please. Be decent, Marshall.”

Anna glanced at Lena for a short moment, and then at Marshall who was towering over her. She had already forgotten how unnerving he could be when he wanted to. Taking a deep breath, Anna decided to ignore his hostile attitude, knowing well why he was acting like that. She was certain he’d drop the facade once he knew what she was about to tell him.

Not wanting him to think he could intimidate her, Anna crossed her arms over her chest and spoke in a low voice, using a serious tone to mask her nervousness. “I need to talk. It’s important.”

Marshall misunderstood her seriousness for sadness and his face crumbled. His frown was suddenly replaced by desperate eyes. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat before he spoke. “Is Elsa—?”

Realisation dawned on Anna, and she stopped him before he could say another word. “Oh, God, no! She’s okay. She’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to— I’m sorry.”

Scrubbing his good hand over his face, he took a deep breath before he spoke again. “Don’t ever do that again, Anna, please.”

The corner of Anna’s mouth turned up slightly, as she saw his mask beginning to break. Perhaps he was still mad at her and her family, but deep down Anna could see the kindhearted man Elsa insisted he was. “Do you have a minute? I really need to speak to you.”

He let go of his face, looked her in the eyes and nodded.

Anna waited for him to move before she did or said anything. The two of them stayed where they were for a minute before Marshall raised an eyebrow as if he was expecting her to do something as well. “So?”

“I thought you were going to invite me in.”

Marshall blinked a couple of times and looked over his shoulder for a brief moment, trying to understand what she meant. “Why? We can speak here.”

“Marshall, let the girl inside, for goodness’ sake.” Lena’s voice could be heard from inside, making Anna smile again. The woman hadn't left her son's side, silently making sure he didn’t do or said something out of place. Anna could tell she was used to her son's brusqueness.

Marshall met his mother's eyes for a short moment. Soon after, he sighed and moved out of the way. “Come in.”

Anna rejoiced, glad he was willing to change his mind and talk to her. Sure, his mother was breathing down his neck, but the fact he was allowing her into the flat meant there were no hard feelings, or so she hoped.

As soon as Marshall closed the door, Lena smacked him on the back of his head, reprimanding him. The soft slap and Marshall’s flush raising to his cheeks didn’t fail to make Anna chuckle. Lena turned to her then, promptly apologising for her son's behaviour. Anna dismissed it, taking half the blame and explaining they had had a small quarrel earlier that day.

“It doesn't matter,” Lena said, crossing her arms. “He should know better.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Marsh’s friends are welcome anytime. Despite what he makes them think.” The woman turned around to look at her son, calling his attention. “Well, won’t you introduce us?”

Marshall sighed, clearly annoyed at the situation. Small talk had never been his strong suit and both women knew it. He scratched his neck and avoiding his mother’s gaze he said, “Anna is Elsa’s sister.”

“Oh…” Lena’s soft smile turned upside down. “I’m so sorry about your sister,” she said to Anna. “I haven’t really met Elsa, but Marsh has spoken so much about her that I—

“You said you needed to talk,” Marshall said suddenly, interrupting his mother.

Anna smiled knowing whatever Lena was about to say would probably embarrass him to no end. It was best to take pity on him and help him out of the awkward conversation. “Yes, I do.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lena said, understanding why he was so desperate to change the topic.

Waiting until his mother was out of the room to start talking, Anna took a moment to look around. They were in a small living room, not bigger than Kristoff’s. There was a battered couch on the left side of the room. Bed sheets were wrinkled on top and an old pillow laid on the floor next to it. Anna felt a pang of pain and guilt at the scene, it was clear Marshall hadn't gone back to the mountain as he claimed. Instead, he had been staying on a small couch for over a week, waiting for something to happen… Trying not to think too much about what it was, Anna turned to him and in an attempt to raise the mood she joked, “Your mother seems nice. She must be proud of her charming son.”

The remark would’ve made Marshall smile at another time, but he ignored it. Too tired and annoyed to deal with anything. “What do you want?”

Anna sighed. She had to admit she was nervous about meeting Marshall at first, but now she was more concerned about his answer. She had been certain he would agree when she said his name at the meeting. Though now that she was standing right in front of him, seeing how utterly burnt out he was, she wondered what they’d do if he said no. One thing was to visit Elsa for a couple of minutes, another entirely was to stay by her side during the night, keeping an eye on everything that was going on around her.

“May I sit down?” she asked.

He crossed his arms over his chest and stood tall, a clear indication his patience was wearing thin. “Stop beating around the bush, tell me what you want.”

Knowing there weren’t many ways to ask, Anna decided to simply state what they needed. “We need you to look after Elsa.” 

“Look after her?”

She nodded. “Through the night, if possible.”

He stayed silent, his eyes fixed on Anna’s as if he was trying to read something behind them. “Anna, if you're messing with me—”

“I wouldn't do something like that,” she knew he had a reason to be wary after a week of people denying him the chance to see her, but Anna took offence nonetheless. “Look, you may think I don't understand the way you feel, but I do. Even though I didn’t enjoy it, I see why you chose to be an arse to me today.”

“I was hardly being an arse,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

Anna wanted to smack him on the head. “We both want what's best for Elsa. So, trust me when I say we need your help.”

“Did something happen?”

“It's a long story. You should discuss it with Kai or Nielsen, not me.”

Marshal scoffed. “You say, ‘discuss it with Kai’ as if the man didn't hate my guts.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “He doesn't hate you.”

“You're right,” he agreed with a fake smile. “He just doesn't trust me and he wants me as far away from Elsa as possible. My mistake.”

“We discussed who could help us, and we all agree you're the best person to look after her.”

He raised an eyebrow, suspicious about her claim.

“Okay, maybe Kai was outvoted,” she finally admitted. “But Nielsen trusts you. So does Gerda.”

Marshall stayed quiet after that, a pensive look on his face, Anna didn’t quite like. She wasn’t sure what they’d do if he refused and so she tried to convince him. “Elsa needs you.” 

Taking a step closer, Marshall leaned down so he was face to face with Anna. “If Kai or anyone tries to kick me out, you’ll be the one dealing with them.”

“I promise.”

“I’m not leaving the hospital until I get to see her, clear?”

Anna breathed out in relief and nodded several times before she took a step forward. Taking advantage of their closeness, she wrapped her arms around him.

Marshall froze, unsure of what to do at first. It was only when he realised Anna was not letting go, that he hugged her back. Anna could feel his arms shaking slightly until they tightened around her and he muttered a soft thank you.

Perhaps he was a little unstable, Anna wouldn’t argue about that. But she was certain he was exactly the kind of person they needed. Strong and savage enough to fight anyone who dared lay a hand on Elsa, but sweet and gentle to care for her the way her sister deserved.

He was the first to let go, claiming he needed to take a quick shower before he left. Looking at the clock on the wall, Anna offered to wait for him. They’d arrive together and wouldn’t keep Nielsen waiting that way.

Marshall nodded and before she knew it, Anna found herself alone in the living room, unsure of what to do while she waited. She contemplated sitting for a moment, but the couch was clearly Marshall’s makeshift bed. She looked around once again and noticed a small table on a corner. The picture frames on it, calling her attention. It felt strange to be intruding into Marshall’s life, but she couldn’t stop her curious side. Even when she knew Marshall didn’t live in the city anymore, she felt drawn to the life he had once had. She wondered if he had been living in that very flat when the incident Kai and Nielsen had been discussing happened. 

Absent-mindedly, Anna picked a photo frame from the table, her mind drifting back to the conversation. She couldn’t help but wonder what had driven Marshall, who seemed so uncharacteristically happy holding his degree in the photo, to do something like beating a man unconscious while he was on duty. One thing was to say he’d kick Hans’ butt for getting him fired, another entirely different was to lose his job because someone crossed him.

Too absorbed in her own thoughts, Anna didn’t hear Lena approaching. Only realising she had company when the woman spoke at her back.

“Thankyou,” Lena said, startling her.

“Oh, gosh!” Anna said, pushing the photo frame away from her and leaving it on the table, almost sending the rest of the pictures to the floor. If the woman hadn’t thought her behaviour was strange before, she surely did now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you coming.”

Lena chuckled and offered her a glass of water, which Anna gladly accepted. She gulped half the glass, hoping the cold water would help her face return to a more normal colour. To her relief it did help and it was only when she was giving the glass back that she realised what Lena had said. “Wait, you said… thank you?”

Lena nodded with a smile. “I know I shouldn't have been eavesdropping.” A faint rose tinting her cheeks. “My husband hates it. It's just… I worry about him.”

“About your husband?”

Lena laughed again. “Marshall,” she clarified, holding the glass tightly with both hands. “Marsh's been worried sick about your sister. He’s been here, doing absolutely nothing else than sleeping and worrying. Only leaving the house to go see her…”

“And I guess he was never in a good mood when he returned,” Anna guessed and Lena didn’t need to answer for her to know that was the case. She had seen him leave the hospital in low spirits almost every day.

Lena nodded, pressing her lips in a thin line. “I was afraid he’d have a relapse, he was starting to behave like a caged animal.”

Opening her eyes in surprise, Anna couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Relapse?”

Looking over her shoulder, Lena checked the door leading to rooms and bathroom was still closed before she explained in a lower voice, “His explosive disorder has been in remission. He’s improved so much over the last couple of years. I know living in the mountains once again, as well as spending time with Elsa has got a lot to do with it…”

“I had no idea,” Anna admitted, even though Marshall’s behaviour began to make a lot more sense now.

Anna thought back to all the times he had said or done things impulsively. His outbursts, the blind rage… and most importantly the regret as soon as he realised the way he was behaving. It all made sense if she put it together. She had seen shame and guilt written on his face the day Elsa called him a brute.

“Being able to see her might help him deal with this a lot better,” Lena explained. “So, thank you.”

“He will be one helping us…”

Before both women could say or ask anything else, the door opened and Marshall came out wearing cleaner and slightly more formal clothes.

“Let's go,” he said, unaware of their conversation.

Anna looked at him and nodded, unsure of what else to say.

--

Standing right outside her daughter’s room, Gerda stayed quiet watching Nielsen give Marshall all the necessary instructions for the night. Most of them were obvious orders, repetitive even, but the doctor didn’t want to leave anything to chance. More than once he stated the importance of keeping a close eye on the medical team and their work, and even though Marshall seemed curious about it, he didn’t ask why. He simply nodded at every order, as if he was once again working for the man. From time to time, Gerda noticed he’d glance to the side, hoping to get a glimpse of Elsa through the door, but he stayed firm throughout the conversation.

As soon as things were clear, he entered the room, closing the door and leaving Gerda and Nielsen on their own. Nielsen didn’t hesitate to leave. Gerda, on the other hand, found herself having a hard time following him down the hall. The idea of leaving Elsa for over ten hours was abominable. She felt as if she was betraying Elsa’s trust. Abandoning her.

“Gerda,” Nielsen called her name and she nodded, knowing it was a matter of time until someone came to walk her out of the ICU.

She looked over the small window on the door, hoping to see her daughter once more before she left. What she saw then offered Gerda some comfort, transforming the unbearable pain in her chest into a dull ache she’d be able to tolerate during the night.

Marshall was sitting by Elsa’s side, where Gerda always sat, his hand holding her daughter’s tightly. She could see his eyes fixed on Elsa and his mouth moving, talking more than she had seen him talk in the last twenty minutes.

“Gerda, you need to go home.” Nielsen approached her, not wanting  to disturb the patients in the other rooms. Jonnas then looked over the window, following Gerda's gaze. A small smile drew on his face. “She’s in good company.”

“I know,” Gerda said. Tearing her eyes away, she began walking. It was best to leave now that she had found the strength to do so.

They both walked in silence out of the ICU and down the hall. There wasn’t much to say between them after spending so many hours together. But, to Gerda’s surprise, Nielsen did stop her to talk before they walked out into the main waiting room where the rest of the family was waiting.

“The Arendelles are Elsa's biological family,” he said, suddenly, not thinking twice about her feelings on the matter.

She nodded, unsure if there was a justified reason to bring that hurtful detail to light.

“I’d like to ask for their medical records. See what we find.”

“They’re completely ordinary people,” Gerda said with a shrug. She saw no reason in digging up their past when they both knew Weselton was the only one responsible for Elsa’s condition. She then walked to the door, hoping to end their conversation.

Nielsen sighed, knowing there wasn’t much he could say to Gerda about that topic. He stopped her once again, however, concerned about a particular issue. “Did Elsa seek help?”

“What?” she asked, letting go of the glass door and turning back to him.

“Has she seen a therapist?”

Averting her eyes, Gerda avoided his scrutiny. “You know Elsa doesn't feel comfortable around strangers.”

“Did you sit down to talk to her about it?”

“Of course I talked to her,” Gerda scoffed. “Do you really think—?”

“About getting professional help, Gerda. Have you talked to her about it?”

“Oh…” Looking down in shame, she shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Nielsen, can’t we discuss this at another time?”

“This is important. Elsa needs help.” It was clear he was talking to her as a friend, not a colleague or Elsa’s doctor anymore. “Why didn't you sit her down to talk about this?”

She scrubbed her eyes, hoping to get rid of the headache that had been tormenting her for days. “We’ve been trying. It’s just so difficult. She's been through so much, I didn’t want to insist on it.”

“I know I’ve suggested you should give her time on these matters but—” Nielsen knew he was in part to blame for it, and he wouldn’t deny it. “Meeting her parents, finding out she’s got a sister… It must have been a terrible blow.”

Finally daring to look at him, Gerda allowed her friend to see how worried she was. “She’s miserable. She’s been trying—” Taking in a deep trembling breath, she admitted, “I’m so afraid of what’s to come…”

“She’ll need all the help she can find,” Nielsen agreed. “Perfectly healthy people struggle with the side effects of sepsis. Their physical and mental health deteriorates significantly. Muscle weakness, pain, insomnia… depression.”

Gerda nodded. She knew exactly what Jonnas was trying to tell her. Perhaps forcing her to get some sleep was his way of telling her she’d need her strength in the upcoming weeks.

--

There it was again.

The beep.

The extremely annoying beep that wouldn't let her sleep.

She was so tired. Exhausted. And that incessant beep wouldn't stop. It never stopped. She was convinced things would get better when it did, but for some reason, it kept beeping. Didn’t it bother anyone else?

In the rare moments of calmness, however, when her mind finally drifted off and she stopped hearing it, the silence made the excruciating darkness all consuming. Frightening.

She had woken up suddenly, paralysed by the fear of a nightmare she couldn’t remember. Or so she believed. It was dark, after all. Too dark. She might as well still be asleep for all she knew, the darkness being part of just another dream.

She wished she could drift into unconsciousness.

For some reason she couldn’t explain, she kept hearing voices alongside the beep. She wasn’t sure they were part of her dreams anymore, but they helped. They chased the nightmares away.

More often than not, there was a warm, soothing feeling accompanying them. It would come and go, just like the voices, but it would never stay long enough for Elsa to enjoy its comfort.

She wished the voice would stay this time.

--

A/N -

I've had this chapter “almost ready” for a week and a half now. You have no idea how exasperating it is to know you’re almost ready, and have no time to sit down and actually work on it. Every day I had some free time, I thought to myself, “I'm finishing the chapter today” only for things to happen. In my defence, I'm building my home and that takes a lot of time from my hands when I’m off work. Well, I'm not literally building it. Just doing things myself here and there to save money before competent people come and build the rest. This past week I've been installing electrical conduits in the walls before the builders come to plaster the apartment. Good thing my old man was an electrician. He tells me what to do, I learn, get things done and I save money in the process.

Anyway, enough about my excuses. Let's talk business!

You may have noticed this chapter is a bit long, that's because the characters had things to say to one another and they wouldn't let me stop them. You wouldn't believe the amount of things I cut out this time. Everyone wanted to argue and I couldn't keep them on the right track for more than two paragraphs. Lena showed up as well. It was a mess. The original title wasn’t even Armistice, I think I changed it after I realised I needed a truce between everybody involved to be able to advance with the story.

I think that in the end I was able to stop the nonsense and I'm quite satisfied with the final product, even if it’s a bit longer than planned. I've been trying to keep word count to a minimum, so as not to make this story unbearably longer, but as you can see I keep failing miserably.

I hope you enjoy the chapter nonetheless. I hope it’s not too long. I’ll try to move things forward in the following chapters. And before you ask, no I haven’t forgotten about the unfair way Agdar treated Elsa the last time they met. That’s all planned out and I hope it will come to light soon. Not next-chapter soon, but soon enough.

I’m rambling.

Anyway, enjoy!

- Tag time:

@swimmingnewsie @melody-fox @kristoffxannafanatic @kristannafictionals @neptrabbit  @skneez @ellacarter13 @wondering-in-life @who-i-am-8 @fanfictionrecommendations-com  @815-allisnotlost @khartxo @joannevixxon @betweenthedreams @burbobah @rileysfs  @earlvessalius  @blood-jewel @snowycrocus @the-sky-is-awake @disneyfan103 @anamaria8garcia @welovefrozenfanfiction  @bigfrozenfan @bigfrozenfan-archive @frozenartscapes  @deisymendoza  @zackhaikal123  @cornstarch @roostercrowedatmidnight @showurselfelsa @when-dawn-arrives @tare-disney  @wabitham @just-your-local-history-nerd @dontrunintofirexoxo @daphmckinnon @poketin @luna-and-mars  @shimmeringsunsets @aries1708  @wabitham @agentphilindaisy @spkfrozenkindikids123 @jimmi-arts @snowmanmelting @loonysama  @hiptoff @loonysama @tare-disney @frozenwolftemplar  @true–north @holycolordreamertree @bigfrozensix

[masonmyluv]

Home race - CL16 🙈

Charles Leclerc x reader

Childhood friends reunited

Warnings: mention of an inchident, some curse words

A/N: this is my first story about Charles Leclerc so pls don’t judge 😅😊

You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your childhood best friend, actual F1 driver, was back in Monaco. How could you forget? You thought about it since this season started. What if you're going to bump into him on the streets? It's been 5 years since you stopped talking and never got in touch with each other.

While Charles was busy signing for fans, Arthur's eyes wondered further from the crowd and spotted you. "Isn't that Y/N?" He whispered to Charles. "Who?" His brother replied. "Never mind. I'll be over there at the cafe" Arthur said, making his way over to you.

You pretended you were intensely studying the menu (even though you already ordered) when he approached you. "Is this Y/N Y/L/N?" You looked up in a beat, a bit disappointed it wasn't Charles, but his brother. Damn, their voices were so alike. "Yep. That's me" you replied smiling. "I haven't seen you in a loooong time" he said, sitting in the opposite chair. "Same to you. How you've been?" You asked. "Pretty good, got into F2, things are going well. Charles over there is in F1, so he does better than me" he rolled his eyes playfully. "He's not really doing well with all the crashes" you mumbled. "So you're watching? Are you a fan?" He smirked. "Well... only when I'm bored" you said. "Anyways, what about you?" He asked. "You're always changing the subject when you don't like something" you chuckled. "I'm good, I'm studying Architecture here, I still have 3 more years to go". "And do you have someone?" He asked.

Just when you were about to reply, Charles appeared by his brother's side. "Are you trying to hook up? Really?" He said to Arthur. "Bro, it's Y/N. Your best friend remember?" Arthur said, Knocking into Charles's head. Charles looked over to you, still not making out who you were. You were a bit disappointed because he didn't remember you, but you remembered everything about him and still had that stupid crush on your best friend. Or ex best friend.

"You should invite her to the race tomorrow" Arthur suggested. "Even though she watches F1 when bored".

"OOOOH!!! It's Y/N/N" Charles said. "You and your stupid nickname. Yes, it's her" Arthur rolled his eyes. Charles couldn't contain his excitement, so he hugged you. "I missed you" he whispered. "I missed you too". "So you're coming to the race then?" He asked. "Sounds good" you smiled.

-- 5 hours before the race --

"I told you not to freak out" Arthur said, hugging you. "I till feel weird to be here. I basically know nothing" you said. "Don't worry, I'll explain everything you need to know. By the way, Charles's sending you a gift" he said. "Really? After I spent 2 hours to pick my outfit, you give me a t-shirt?". "It's designed by Charles for the race. Come on, you'll look good" he said.

"So did you understand how things are around here?" Arthur asked. "Let's hope for the best" you laughed awkwardly. Man, this sport was something else. "And now Ferrari motor home. And probably Charles is dressing up in here" Arthur said, making his way through the mechanics who we're finishing the last checks on the car. Indeed, Charles was putting on his special Monaco suit and he looked damn hot in it. Fuck, go away stupid crush.

"Y/N, you came. And you're looking good" Charles said, hugging you. "Of course. Wouldn't want to miss my best friend racing right?" You chuckled. "Oops forgot something. Be right back" Arthur said, leaving the two of you alone. "So..." Charles said. "Are you scared? I mean, I would be, driving 200 on these streets. Or are you feeling pressured because it's a home race? I would, I'm always feeling under pressure and I can't work properly" you ranted. "I do feel scared and excited, and under pressure, but I'm enjoying it to the maximum" he replied. He always liked when you asked his questions and were honest with him. "So... who's your biggest rival?" You asked. "Myself". "I would say Verstappen cuz I do like him... and probably Hamilton. He's ok" you said.

"And who's this beautiful lady we have here?"

"Carlos, she's Y/N, my...best friend" Charles said. "Hi. Nice to meet you" you said. "Carlos is my teammate who I don't know what is doing here" Charles narrowed his eyes at him. "Just wanted to wish you luck. But I guess you already have" he grinned.

"I have to get in the car. Make sure your headset is working properly and enjoy watching" Charles said. "Thanks. Wait Charles" you said, before he could put on his helmet. "Yeah?". You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "Win for me, will ya?" You winked, making him blush.

"Watching the two of you is funny. You clearly have feelings for each other" Arthur said. "And where have you been, mister?". "Just letting you have some time with him. And I guess he's going to invite you to the party as well" he said, helping you put on the headset so you could hear Charles's radio. "What party?" You asked. "After the race, there's a party to celebrate. If he wins, he'll want you by your side. If he loses, he still wants you by his side" he shrugged. "Is it starting?" You asked. "Yeah. Pray for him".

"Omg is he okay??" You asked, seeing the collision between him and Carlos. "Yeah it's just the front wing. He should be able to continue the race" Arthur explained.

"Fucking hell why would he do that??? Putain!!! That idiot!!!"

You winced at his words, never seeing Charles so angry before. Sure his own teammate would sabotage him.

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N"

"He's a twat" Arthur sighed. "He still had time no?" You asked. "Maybe, but I guess he already gave up". "Can I told to him?" You asked and Arthur nodded.

"Charles, it's Y/N speaking. Please don't give up, you've worked so hard for this and it's a shame to give up now. This is your empire, Charles, show them who's the king. I know you won't give up that easily. Or so I thought that I know my best friend. I love you, Charles. Make everyone proud"

"You confessed over the radio? You're crazy" Arthur chuckled. "He needs to know. I can't hide it anymore" you shrugged. "Welcome to the family. Officially as Charles's girlfriend" he said, hugging you. "He didn't ask me yet" you laughed. "He will, trust me. Probably the first thing he'll do when he gets out of the car".

And it's first place for Charles Leclerc in Monaco. What a race! The Monaco curse is broken!

And Arthur was indeed right. After congratulating the other drivers on the podium, he ran to where you were and hugged you tightly. "Be my girlfriend? Please". "Hmm I don't know..." you faked thinking about it. "We haven't talked for five years. I still don't know why we did that" you said. "Me neither. I guess it's my fault. I was at the beginning of the F1 career and didn't want a distraction. Sorry for that" he said. "It's okay. Let's just enjoy is being reunited" You leaned in, pressing your lips to his. "God, I can't believe I did that" you chuckled. Charles smirked before pulling you into another kiss. "Get a room. Wait first go to celebrate and then get a room" Arthur said, hugging the both of you. "Or we could celebrate in a room" Charles shrugged. "Gross. Now go, the trophy's waiting" Arthur said.

After the celebration, Charles came back into the garage, smelling like champagne, but you didn't care. And after that, you went to the party and as Arthur said everything you did was 18+🤪.

Hope you like it ❤️🤍

Praying to all odds for Charles to win today 🥹

[crypticjackal13]

Mk x shy GF Reader, with the Mk clones? set during the episode Duplicatnation where Mk is dealing with the fact he accidently got carry away with making clones, but not only that, he has to now deal with them fawning all over his girlfriend in their own ways and getting her EXTREMELY flustered and embarrassed, And are our poor boy is getting REALLY jealous.

“Too Many”(1244 w.c.)(Romantic one shot)

MK/Clones x Shy!Fem!Reader

pronouns: she/her

CW: slight possessiveness

One second, y/n was enjoying some quiet time at Pigsy’s because hey, there was a little too much chaos in her life at the moment, and the next, she was apparently texted to meet her lovely boyfriend at Sandy’s boat. This she didn’t mind. Sandy was such a sweet guy, and she’d be lying if she said spending time with the therapy cats wasn’t one of her favorite things to do. 

It was what happened when she got there that was a problem.

The boat was not only a new color, but she could see that familiar red bandana and messy brown hair hard at work painting it. She smiled knowingly, hopping up onto the deck to greet him. 

“MK, hey!” She went to hug him like she always did, but when he turned around, something was terribly off. His eyes had a crazed fire dancing in them as he wielded a paintbrush. But he still returned her affection.

“Y/n! Good, I was hoping you would be fast! I want to paint you!” He explained. She wasn’t opposed to the idea, but she certainly was thrown off by his mannerisms. 

“Like, right now? I’m not sure—“

“All you have to do is sit and be pretty. You’ll look perfect at any angle!”

Even if he was a little unhinged, she was still blushing at his comment. She went and sat on the stool across from a canvas he’d set up, choosing a simple pose that wouldn’t take long—theoretically.

“Beautiful! Yes, you’re the perfect muse!” He beamed, getting to work on an underpainting. Her heart was racing and she felt her face grow hot at his compliments. She held as still as she could, out of worry for what might happen if she shifted even a little. A solid half hour must have passed by now…But her arms were getting tired in the position she was holding them, so she mustered up the courage to say something.

“Hey, can I just take a quick break? Have you got a sketch down?” She asked. The artist stepped away from the canvas, humming while he looked at her. 

“I suppose…just hurry back, okay? This will be a masterpiece as long as you’re here.”

She hopped off of her seat and gave him a quick kiss as she exited the boat, choosing to head back into the city and get something to eat, maybe even stopping at the arcade…Mei was there, right? They hadn’t gotten to hang out lately.

Walking into the building, she could tell once again that something was wrong. But she pushed that feeling aside and continued in, getting some tokens and enjoying some of the games at the front by the entrance. But the music was muffled, like it was only coming from the back of the building, so y/n went to the back and saw two tall guards in front of the door. Once they saw her coming, they immediately opened the door for her, and she hurried past them with a quiet “thanks”. 

Gods, being in that space was already overwhelming—it smelled like soda pop and smoke machines. The music reverberated through the floors that lit up with each beat. And it was crowded past capacity, most likely. Someone was yelling from the DJ booth, but she couldn’t make out the words. 

“Y/n, thank goodness. You need to talk to your boyfriend.” Mei emerged from somewhere in the crowd, taking y/n by her arm and practically yelling to get her point across. 

“But I was just with him on the boat!” She yelled back.

“Then who’s the guy wearing leopard print sitting in the booth?!” 

The two girls got to the front of the room, and lo and behold, there was MK. Y/n was beyond confused. If he was here, then who was the artist she’d just spent time with? He peered through his slitted neon glasses at her, reaching over the turntable and yanking her into the booth with him. It was only a little easier to hear.

“Aw yeah, the life of my porty is here! It’s good to see you showed up!” He exclaimed, giving y/n a kiss. 

“Porty? MK, what are you talking about? What about the painting?”

“Huh? What painting, yo?” He shook his head with a smirk. “Whatever, anyways, c’mon, join in! Let’s make some sweet tunes to get these guys moving!”

“No, hang on, how long have you been in here?” She stopped him, trying to figure out exactly what was happening.

“No idea, babes, all I know is I’m throwing the best porty this arcade has EVER seen!” He put one of the headphones over his ear, before pressing some buttons that changed the music and got things going again. Now that y/n could see the whole crowd, she could also see that they all looked like zombies…some were slumped on the floor, others were trying to keep dancing but stumbled and dragged their feet. Some were even hiding from MK’s sight. Mei was standing by the entrance to the booth, and she didn’t look too hot either. 

“MK, you need to chill out a bit, okay? Let’s go play some games, just you and me.” Maybe if y/n played her cards right, she could get him to be distracted long enough that the crowd could disperse. 

“Not right now, sweet cheeks. After this set, definitely!” He responded. 

“What do we do? He’s lost his mind!” Mei took y/n’s hand again to get her away from the crazed DJ. Y/n shrugged, racking her brain for solutions. 

“Let’s get out of here! There has to be an exit!” She said. 

“Sorry, sweet heart. No one’s leaving this porty!” The DJ came up behind the pair, yanking them both deeper into the booth.

Hours passed as Mei and y/n were stuck inside a giant claw machine. On the plus side they weren’t stuck on the dance floor, but on the downside they were trapped in a much bigger problem than before.

That is, until the skylight broke. Their saving grace was here, hopefully the REAL one. They couldn’t make out what Real MK and Porty MK were saying to each other, but y/n was just overjoyed that MK was okay. What scared the crap out of her were the countless evil clones that were trying to fight him and how she couldn’t really tell who was where doing what. Golden light was everywhere, and before they both knew it, y/n and Mei were out of the claw machine and out of harm’s way. But they were back in the booth, standing behind Real MK. 

“Wait, how can you tell who’s who? He might be the porty clone!” The DJ said. 

“It’s ‘party’!” Mei said.

“Aw man, I played myself.”

And then he disappeared. Y/n was still comprehending the fact that all of that just happened, but of course the explanation was three simple words: “mystic monkey business”. 

“Y/n, are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?” MK approached y/n, pulling her into a hug that she recognized as his hug. She leaned into him, trying to calm down a bit.

“No, I’m not hurt. Just…frazzled, I guess. Promise you wont make any more clones, okay??” She pulled away from him, grabbing his arms and shaking him back and forth. He laughed the whole time.

“I promise, I promise!”

[concreteprints]

Okay so reader has been friends with Soda for a long time. One day she goes to the Curtis house and finds out about Sandy being a cheating bitch. Her and Steve spend the whole day comforting Soda. Over the weekend she makes up something about needing to go out of town. Reader goes to Florida and, in a crush fueled rage, beats the shit of Sandy's car Carrie Underwood style.

On her way home, let's say an hour and a half from Tulsa, she gets arrested for driving like Dallas and calls Darry to come get her. Darry comes but Ponyboy and Sodapop are in the truck with him. When they get home everything is embarrassing, they find out about the car, and you can decide if soda does anything.

Bust the Windows Out Your Car | Sodapop Curtis x F!Reader Word Count: 1806

Warnings: N/A?

Notes: I'm sorry I'm aware this is bad but this is not usually my thing and I could not proofread it for the life of me. I hope it isn't too bad?

You had been friends with Soda for a while now, since before he dropped out of school. You had hit it off instantly but at the time both of you wanted something purely platonic, so nothing happened and eventually he got a girlfriend. He was hot, funny, and could probably cheer a devil up if he tried hard enough. It wasn’t that you weren’t into him, you just weren’t looking for that. By the time your feelings had developed and you realized that you did, in fact, like Sodapop, he had already moved on.

It didn’t hurt you too much. You knew almost every girl he talked to was into him, everyone did. You were genuinely surprised that he was single when you two met.

Even though you were still in school and he was working a full-time job, you two still spent a lot of time together. Whenever you could you would just walk over to the Curtis’ and hang out. You always secretly hoped that Soda would be there when you went (and you were sure at least one of the guys in the gang could tell).

You had another bad day at school. One of those ones where everything that could go wrong, did. You were exhausted and all you wanted to do was cuddle up on the sofa next to him and watch some stupid movie that you had both seen at least a couple dozen times before.

Instead of seeing some boys roughhousing on the couch and nearly knocking over half of the things on the coffee table, you found Steve attempting to comfort an uncharacteristically sad Sodapop. Immediately you knew that something was wrong. Nothing could make Sodapop sad. He was like a golden retriever, even if something bad did happen to him he’d still be his cheerful, overexcited self. Almost like he didn’t understand what had happened or why it was supposed to be upsetting.

“Steve? What happened?” You set your bag down near the door and sat on the other side of Sodapop. He didn’t look like he was in the mood to explain, so Steve sounded like your best option if you wanted an actual answer.

Steve shook his head with a small sigh. It was strange seeing both of them so down, especially at once. It was almost like their emotions were connected. Sodapop was happy, so was Steve; Sodapop was angry, Steve was angrier; and apparently, if Sodapop was down about something, Steve acted almost as sad as if it had happened to him too.

He lowered his voice, perhaps attempting to say it without upsetting Sodapop too much more. “He just found out that Sandy cheated on him… real down about it right now.”

You couldn’t believe it. You were filled with rage at the same time you were almost empathetically as down as Soda was feeling. You couldn’t believe that someone – Sandy, no less – could have the nerve, the audacity, to cheat on someone like Sodapop. He was loyal, kind, and more than just attractive. He had the looks of a movie star and the charisma to go with it. He was the perfect man in your eyes.

Then again, perfect man or not, cheaters were cheaters. You just hated the fact that you had trusted Sandy, and that Sodapop had trusted her even more. You also hated the fact that, even though he had just found it, she had probably cheated on him dozens of times before now.

Of course you did your best to comfort Sodapop, you couldn’t just leave him like this, but it was hard when he was usually the one cheering up other people. You weren’t sure how to comfort someone who you had never seen this sad before. Who you had never really seen sad before at all.

“Hey Soda, I know it hurts now but it’ll get better. You know it will. You’ll go on and find other girls, but she’ll always be a cheater.” You say softly. You were still avoiding touching him though. You didn’t think it was the time, especially not now that he was newly single and you still had feelings for him. Even if he didn’t necessarily know about your feelings.

You and Steve spent nearly the entire afternoon (going late into the evening as well) attempting to comfort him. Trying nearly everything either of you could think of. You gave him some ice cream, though you didn’t think that really worked for most people; Steve put on his favorite movie; and you two spent the entire night talking and laughing. Yet he was still clearly upset.

Logically you knew that it would take him a while to get over it. He’d been with Sandy for a little over a year. You just hated feeling so helpless being able to do virtually nothing to cheer him up.

Once he fell asleep, you went home. It was nearly 12 now but you had no plans of sleeping. All you could think of was how to get Sandy back for breaking his heart. You spent the rest of the night coming up with a plan. Once morning came, you got in your car and drove a little too fast to be safe. You couldn’t think straight enough to worry about it at the moment. You hadn’t brought more than a change of clothes and some money you had stashed away from babysitting jobs.

You weren’t planning on staying for long. No, if you had any say in it you’d be gone as soon as you were finished. You just didn’t want to be unprepared.

The drive was long and tiring. You tried to distract yourself with music but it didn’t do much. All you could think about it was how angry you were at the moment. 

You felt your knuckles tighten against the leather steering wheel. One of the only things keeping you grounded as you drive. The angrier you got, the faster you went, but eventually you tired yourself out. Giving up and driving more slowly so that you wouldn’t accidentally drive yourself off of the road.

Despite how early you had left, it was still fairly late when you arrived. Running purely on rage, coffee, and not wanting to give up now, you quickly found her car. You were too exhausted to fully complete your plan. You slashed three of her tires, spilt the rest of your nearly scolding coffee on the white leather seats, and keying one side but writing no particular letters. By the time you were finished, you were coming down from that rage-fueled high. You drove yourself to an empty lot and fell asleep in your car. Driving back home now would not be a good idea.

The bright sun woke you up quickly. It was now nearly painfully hot in the car and the fact that you were only going on a few hours of sleep didn’t help you feel any better. You decided to keep on driving. If your parents hadn’t already called the cops, they sure would soon.

By the time you were nearly there, you couldn’t stand it anymore. The anxiety pounding in your head, the fact that you could barely see 10 feet in front of you in the dark, and the realization setting in that what you did was, in fact, very illegal. You weren’t like Dally, and girls didn’t go to jail. Especially not for stuff like vandalizing a car. You anxiously tapped your finger on the steering wheel as you drove. Barely realizing that you kept speeding up until you heard cop sirens from behind you.

At first you told yourself that they couldn’t be for you, but it was much too late for anyone else to be driving. You sighed and pulled over. The officer, noticing how delirious you seemed, decided to take you in.

He didn’t handcuff you and he didn’t even tell you that you were being arrested, but it was still embarrassing. Having to be driven to the police station in the back of a cop car like a common criminal.

Once you got there, he handed you the phone and told you to call someone to drive you home; he wasn’t going to let you drive like that but he didn’t want to see you spend the night in a cell either. You knew your parents would murder you if you called them late in the evening and told them that you needed to be picked up from the police station. So your best bet was calling the Curtis household and praying that Darry didn’t lecture you too awful.

You could immediately tell that Darrel was exhausted when he answered, his voice rough. “Hm? What is it?” He was always polite on the phone, even as tired as he was. He didn’t want to risk it being a social worker on the other end.

“I’m sorry for calling this late Dar but I need to… I need someone to pick me up from the station.” You kept your voice down as you spoke. Even though everyone of the cops obviously knew where you were, you were still ashamed to speak it aloud.

He groaned and you could tell that he was going to scold you later, but thankfully he agreed. Very unfortunately for you, the second they heard your name both Pony and Soda insisted that they come along. You awkwardly slid into the backseat and gave them a glare that told them not to say a word before laying your head down against the back of the seat and instantly falling asleep.

When you woke up you were laying on the couch, a warm blanket wrapped around you. Sodapop was sitting on the end of the couch near your feet. Apparently extremely anxious for you to wake up. It wasn’t like you had nearly died or anything. He just wanted to know why and how the hell you had managed to be brought to a police station.

He started talking as soon as he noticed that you were awake. “What is it? What happened? Y/N why were you out that late?!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, it just happened.

You had to come clean eventually. If you didn’t, you knew he would just find out from someone else. “Well I… I went to Sandy’s house and… taught her a lesson.” 

Sodapop couldn’t quite believe it. You had been missing for a little over two full days and it turns out that it was all because you wanted to “teach his ex a lesson.”

“Are you kidding me Y/N?! Yeah she cheated but that doesn’t mean you should’ve done that! Sandy doesn’t deserve that shit!” He shouted before standing up and walking into his room, slamming the door behind him.

[theserpentsadvocate]

Flipping The Script (Jade/Eli)

I promised @feeisamarshmallow that I would work on my depressing longer project all weekend and then I wrote this instead. It's my first fic for this fandom so I do take concrit, but, like, accompany it with hot chocolate or something.

Summary: Jade gets her mother's car fixed. She meets a guy.

*

All Jade wanted was to get her mother’s car and drop it off with enough time to get to the library before it closed, and since the library was open late on Thursdays and she’d stopped to pick it up at 4 PM, it hadn’t seemed that difficult. But somehow it was starting to seem impossible that she would make it, because she’d spent the last seven hundred years staring blankly at the high-school-age garage employee while he badly flirted with her by implying she was a car thief, and that meant the library was definitely closed.

“I mean, not that I really think so,” he said, laughing at his own joke. “But you could sure get away with it! Nobody would suspect you.”

She forced a pained smile, cursing herself internally. Her coworkers said she was just the sweetest, because she was too nice to ever say the kinds of things they did about annoying guys or bitchy guests. Really, it only meant she got just as pissed off on the inside, but she’d had ladylike manners drilled into her so deeply that she always ended up standing there and letting it happen. Three years in customer service didn’t help either, any more than the fact that she was used to dealing with this kind of thing from the other side of the counter.

One day, she thought a little hysterically, she was going to become some kind of crazed murderer, stabbing every guy who came onto her while screeching “That’s not polite!” And on that day, she might actually get her mom’s car.

“If you could just check?” she asked for what had to be the fourth time. “I know she spoke to someone about it.”

“Sorry,” he said, not checking. “There’s nothing under Jade.” A smirk. “But I–”

She cut him off before he could say but I could be and make her actually throw up. “Did you try ‘Gutierrez’, because–”

“Listen, we got these policies for a reason,” he went on. “I know it’s a pain.” The condescension was almost worse than the lechery. “Maybe you call your mom and let her know she’s got to come in herself, but hey, if you need a ride somewhere, I could take you. I’m off soon.”

Oh, God. “I really need to pick it up today.” She leaned on the firmness in the way that always surprised guests who thought being pretty and polite meant she had no backbone at all. “I know she cleared it with someone, so could you get your boss, please?”

“Fred’s not in on Thursdays,” he said blithely, and Jade could have screamed.

“Then could you call him? Or just get a supervisor, maybe?” She forced another smile so he wouldn’t think she was trying to get him in trouble. “If they authorize it then you’ll be in the clear, right?”

“He doesn’t like to be bothered at home.” The man eyed her up and down in a way she would have objected to even if he wasn’t barely legal. Jade took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself to go around the whole carousel again, but –

“Mike, what the hell are you doing?”

One of the other employees was frowning at them from the side door, annoyance plain on his face. “I need you on that Camry; Luis is busy with the bikes and we already told the owner he can pick it up tomorrow.”

“I’m helping a customer!” Mike insisted, seeming to actually believe it.

“For almost an hour? Is it a flying car?” Her saviour came a little closer, and Jade could see he wasn’t as old as she’d initially thought, maybe her age – one of those young guys who shaved their heads, rather than a thirty-something with unfortunate follicular genetics.

“She wants to pick up the car, but it’s not hers. I’m trying to explain it, but, you know…”

Only her utter disbelief prevented Jade from saying something really terrible that she would have regretted later. Was he really suggesting that she was stupid?

Mike winked at her. “I bet she doesn’t get a lot of people saying no to her, and I mean, can you blame them?”

His coworker – his boss? – stared at him in a way that blessedly reminded her that sanity existed. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?” Mike indicated Jade’s entire body with a wave of his hand, as if she was Exhibit A, and she felt her face burning in spite of herself. How was she the one embarrassed right now?

“You know we can’t give out the cars to just anyone,” he went on, and then turned back to Jade, seemingly oblivious to the other man’s incredulous displeasure. “But since I gotta get back to work, maybe I can trade it for your number, beautiful?”

“I don’t think so,” Jade told him stiffly, but it went unnoticed, since his coworker chose that moment to exclaim, “Are you fucking serious?”

It wasn’t very professional, but she decided to forgive him, especially when he followed it up with, “You can’t fucking talk to the customers like that!”

He took a couple steps over and dragged Mike out from behind the counter by one arm while the younger man protested the injustice of being denied whatever opportunity he’d somehow thought he had. Jade was polite enough to pretend to look elsewhere, as much as she desperately wanted to gawk, but even with several feet between them for the illusion of privacy she could hear the resultant conversation.

“What the hell, man, you’re not my boss!”

“Yes, I am, you dumbass. That’s why it says supervisor on my uniform! You think I’ve been chasing your ass all day for the hell of it?”

“Look, just because you’re always sucking up to Fred–”

“Fred’s not here, genius, that’s why he made me a supervisor, so he could take a fucking day off! Do think you just have no boss on Thursdays?”

“Man, you’re gonna screw things up for me here, will you quit it? I don’t have to listen to some loser who never finished high school.”

Jade risked a sideways look at them, and she saw Mr. Supervisor take the kind of deep breath that was an alternative to punching someone.

“I finished high school,” he snapped. “In fact, I’m about to teach you something. Listen up. Number one, you never had a chance with that girl because you are a dumbfuck who couldn’t even get into an automotive course and is about to get fired from the only shop in town that does on-the-job training because he doesn’t do his goddamn work and hits on the customers, and she is someone who wears pantsuits to work. Number two, you wouldn’t have had a chance with a girl like that anyway because she’s…” He inclined his head in a much classier version of Mike’s wave, which Jade probably should have been offended by, but wasn’t, “and you...” He snorted. “Number three, if you lived in some fucked up universe where she was somehow into you, you still don’t ask for her phone number, because you’re on the clock and it’s un-fucking-professional. Stand still and don’t say anything while I try to fix your mess, and you better watch closely because this is how you speak to every goddamn customer until Fred comes in on Saturday and fires your worthless ass.”

He took a breath, forcing his shoulders back and clearly trying to put the Customer Face back on – Jade had done that particular shoulder-roll enough times that her back straightened in sympathy even as she looked away for real to give him a moment of privacy. This man was her new favourite person and she had no intention of making him pay for Mike’s crimes, but he didn’t know that, so she could at least make things easy for him.

“Excuse me,” he said with a straight face, replacing his coworker behind the counter. “Unfortunately we had a miscommunication. Let me see what I can do for you, ma’am.”

The painstaking professionalism felt incongruous coming from someone who had dropped at least five F-bombs in the last two minutes, and all the more so when they both knew he was blatantly lying, but it was also pretty delightful after slogging through all of Mike’s nonsense, enough so that she even forgave him calling her ma’am. It was about making a point, anyway.

“Thank you,” Jade said graciously. “My mother brought her car in on Monday, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to pick it up, so she arranged for me to get it for her. She told me she spoke with the owner, and it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Absolutely,” Mike’s boss returned, almost brightly. It felt a little like having a conversation with an exaggerated version of people who did her job at places like the Grand, who spent all day honing their obsequiousness on rich people, except that the concierge was a Latino guy with neck tattoos and slightly wrinkled coveralls that said – she squinted for a moment – Eli. “If I can just get your mother’s name, I can access our file and see if there’s a note attached.”

Points to him for saying access the file when there appeared to be one oversized notebook planner and a lot of loose paper on the desk, and no computer at all.

“Certainly!” Jade said, matching his tone with the same enthusiasm she’d use on a particularly stubborn guest. She thought she saw him hide a smile. “It’s Rita Gutierrez, and the car is a Fiat Cinquecento.”

“One moment, please.” He flipped open the notebook, paging through with enough purpose that it had to be organized in some coherent way; Mike had only shuffled the loose pages around. “Gutierrez, came in on Monday. Oh, yes!” He said the last part with such overacted eagerness that she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “There’s a note right here.” It was a sticky note; Jade knew this because he peeled it off the page and held it up so that his coworker, still sulking where Eli(jah?) had left him, could see. “From the owner. ‘To be picked up by daughter Jade Gutierrez’ – do you have identification, Miss Gutierrez?”

“I do.” She’d had her driver’s licence ready since she entered the building and finally handing it over was a relief. “Do you need anything else?”

“This should cover it,” he said, actually looking at the ID and at her face. Then the ultra-professional façade slid back down. “I have the breakdown for you here –” He removed one of the papers Mike had been sliding around and handed it to her. “Your mother paid our estimate when she dropped off the vehicle, so there’s only a small amount outstanding. It’s in good shape for being ten years old.”

“She has it serviced regularly,” Jade said with affected gravity, skimming over the details. Forty-eight dollars and sixty cents over what her mom had already paid, mostly for also changing the serpentine belt as well as the alternator, which was a relief. Her mom always spun out about car repairs, and she’d had Jade half convinced they’d be demanding a few more hundred dollars.

“I can take care of the balance right now,” she told him. Her mom would probably insist on paying her back, but it was worth it either way. The first forty-five minutes might have been torture, but the catharsis of seeing someone actually yell at the creep, paired with some appealingly collaborative back-and-forth with, honestly, a pretty attractive guy – she’s noticing right now that he has very nice eyelashes, which is almost as appealing as the tattoos – has been satisfying enough that it might have actually raised the tone of her evening. She’s definitely calling Trish and hashing the whole thing over later, and she’s actually looking forward to it.

Mike sighed and huffed as Eli(as?) ran her card, thanked her with elaborate courtesy, and asked if there was anything else he could do for her.

“No, thank you so much,” Jade said, taking the keys from him – and then, halfway to the door and wanting to do something to show just how much she appreciated all this, wanting a little bit to piss Mike off, and definitely wanting for once to be the kind of person who did that kind of thing, instead of thinking wistfully about it later, she doubled back, heading him off before he could re-engage with his less-than-abashed coworker. “Actually, excuse me – I’m sorry, I know this is inappropriate, but since I’m not really the customer, and since the transaction’s been concluded – I was wondering if I could get your number?”

Mike produced an outraged squawk that made them both avoid eye contact for a moment, trying not to ruin the moment by laughing. Then Eli(ott?) cleared his throat. “You know, I think that would be okay, just this once,” he told her, grinning, and if she wasn’t sure a moment ago how much of this was about proving a point, well, that was definitely coming in a distant second now.

She waited for him to write something on the flipside of one of the business cards on the rack, took it with a smile, and strode out before her nervousness could catch up with her. She didn’t look at it until she was safe in her mother’s Fiat.

Eli Navarro, 555-3407. No frills, no flirty message underneath, and it seemed like his name was just Eli.

She liked it.

[papermachedragons]

The first time Eddie ran away, he was four years old.

It was before his dad started teaching him how to hot-wire.

It was a cold winter. That winter where the heater broke and Eddie caught cold after cold that took weeks to disappear; there was not money to turn on the heat or fix the perpetual draft that crept through their windows, so there certainly was not money to get Eddie any cold medicine. It got so bad, Eddie coughed and coughed and hacked, his breathing was a constant wheeze and Eddie's father had had enough. Not enough to get him to a doctor, but just enough to drive him to Wayne Munson's trailer, where he dumped him. It was not the first time Eddie met his uncle. Far from. But given the backpack he dropped him off with and the gruff comment to bring him back, when he stopped sounding like a broken A/C unit, it was the first time he would spend more than a few hours with him.

That first night in his uncle’s home, Wayne Munson laid a bleary, tired, sleep deprived Eddie — because Eddie had not been able to sleep for more than an hour or two consecutively for days, since he kept waking himself up coughing or sneezing or struggling to breathe — to sleep in his own bed. Packed him down with heavy, thick blankets and two heated water bottles filled with hot water. And Eddie fell asleep to a callused hand sweeping hair away from his face, surrounded by warmth and a gruff, but warm voice mumbling about killing someone if he ended up with pneumonia, whatever that was.

It was the first week Eddie ever spent under his uncle Wayne's care. It was also the first time Eddie learnt that there was warmth and care to be found under his uncle's roof and safety in his arms.

Only two months after that experience that remained half-buried under a bleary fever, Eddie ran away for the first time.

It was the middle of the night. Or close to, at least. Eddie had been slow to learn time and the clock, so he had no idea what time it was. But he knew, he should have been asleep a long time ago, only he was not. His body was buzzing and frantic. A wild river was coursing through his blood, impatient and racing; coursing through him with wild abandon. And he had not been able to lie still in bed. His feet had rubbed together under the blanket. Back and forth. Back and forth. He had played with the ears of his bunny, constantly flipping them all around and rolled from side to side, unable to find a position that could soothe the itch underneath his skin.

  In the end, he got up. Skin buzzing with an energy that zapped against him, and it hurt him, it hurt so much, he could not—, he needed to—, it hurt. He needed it to stop and he needed to move and he needed something and he didn't know what, but it burned against his skin and clawed at his chest and nothing was helping. So, he tried getting up and jumping around. But the noise drew his father and a loud voice that did nothing to settle the burn and buzz working its way across Eddie's skin. And he tried to explain, he really did, but his voice was static and he couldn't find it and the words didn't make sense and he was babbling in half-curled sentences, because his thoughts were racing through his head and he couldn't grasp them into one, so he was halfway through one sentence, when his mind had already moved onto the next one, so he had to scramble to grasp that one, before it disappeared too, and—

Pain exploded across his cheek and Eddie cut off. He raised his eyes to find his dad with a hand raised in the air and a hard set to his jaw.

It made it worse. Eddie turned on his heel and started pacing. He flapped his arms up and down by his sides and the wild river tore at his chest, trying to eat him from the inside out and Eddie just wanted it to be satisfied. To stop. So, he babbled, could not really stop, and he knew his dad had hit him; he had done smaller things like that before; taken a rough hold of his arm, when Eddie wouldn't sit still in the diner; smacked a hand on the side of the car seat, when Eddie’s fidgeting made the car rock by swinging his legs — that were too short and hanging above the floor anyway — back and forth; pinched Eddie's skin, when he talked too fast and the words stumbled wrong out of his mouth, when Eddie's dad was trying to focus on something else. So, Eddie wasn't confused. He knew what it meant. He just could not stop.

It only took a few paces through the room, before Eddie's dad had him by the front of his shirt. Hands curled in the fabric of his shirt, tight and tense. He shook him back and forth and Eddie's teeth chattered and clattered together and he bit his tongue. Eddie’s dad spat in his face and told him to shut up and go to bed.

"But I can't! I can't! I tried and I can't and it hurts!" Eddie smacked at his dad's arms. Maybe he would understand, if he would just listen. It earned him another hard smack on the head and a hard punch to the jaw. This time Eddie stopped. It hurt. Worse than the pain in his chest.

When Eddie's dad let up his grip on his shirt. Eddie ducked under his arm, ran out of his room and escaped out the front door. He was gone, before his dad ever had the chance to shout him back.

That first time, four years old, caught in his pajamas and with tears down his cheeks, running through the street of early spring, was the first time he ran away from home.

After running through the cold embrace of night in bare feet and bare arms, he wound up on his uncle's doorstep. Wayne Munson opened his door and swept Eddie inside with nothing more, but a sad smile and a warm embrace.

It was not the last time Eddie ran away. Far from it.

Later, when Eddie had grown a little, his father started pulling Eddie into his side-business and odd jobs — and by consequence — teaching him how to lock-pick and hot-wire. A tool in his mouth and wires between his fingers taught him his father’s skill; a gravelly voice in his ears taught him his father’s cynical worldview.

All through his childhood, sparks of electricity and hard, cold fingers digging into his shoulders, taught him the world was a cold place and Eddie would have to fight to survive in it. Nothing would be given to him, so he'd have to take it for himself.

The world was a cruel and cold place. That was Brian Munson’s doctrine. One he had no issue instilling in his son.

And Eddie took it to heart, because he was a kid and that was what you did with the things your parents handed you.

Eddie's father taught him to lock-pick and slip people's wallets from their pockets entirely un-noticed and unremarkable. And Eddie swallowed it up like a sponge did water, despite the wrong wrong wrong that repeated in his heart. Because it was his father, who handed it to him and it was all he knew how to do.

The one thing his father never should have taught him was the road that lead to his uncle's trailer.

Whenever he got tired of having Eddie underfoot and got impatient with him, or — as Eddie learned when he got older — wanted to go to Chicago and Eddie would be more a hindrance than help to his errand; he dropped him off on his uncle's doorstep. Which was how Eddie came to know with certainty that his uncle Wayne was a far warmer man than his father; that he had a home, which would not cut and bruise him; arms that would catch him, when he fell, and also how he learned the way to get there.

By the time he was six, he knew this with such certainty in his heart, that when his father unknowingly chased him out of their house with his loud, angry voice and his angrier hands — which happened more and more as time slipped passed, as if the time was made out of barbed wires and cut at his father as it passed him by, making him sharper and harder and more cruel — it was the place Eddie ran to, half-blinded by the dark and heavy rain, clutching one of his stuffed animal — the one thing he had grabbed onto, when his father first raised his voice — and nothing else, because Eddie's racing heart and quick feet had brought him out the door, before he could think to grab anything else.

Uncle Wayne opened the door to him crying on his doorstep, shivering, cold and sopping wet, and brought him inside with hardly a word. Eddie warmed up snuggled into his side with his arms around him. That night cemented Wayne Munson as the only safe place to run to, when the world and his father's hands turned too sharp and cold and yet still found a way to burn him.

It was the only home Eddie had ever known.

The place in Hawkins that belonged to his father had never been more than a couple of rooms and the four walls of Eddie's tiny bedroom. There was no one else. Nowhere else. There had only ever been his father or his uncle. He never knew his mother. She left when he was two years old.

So really, running away was in his blood.

And always had been.

It became the one thing that stayed with Eddie as he grew older. The colder his father's hands became, the more Eddie ran away.

His father would drink or he would come home, with something angry buzzing under his skin like bees of an active beehive and Eddie would do something wrong, say the wrong thing or whirl around the house with an energy that kicked up all the dust from the dormant tornado, his father had brought back home and everything would explode.

  And every time it got too much, Eddie would sneak out the window or out the door, while his father's back was turned, and he would run and run, clutching a small bag or nothing at all, through half of Hawkins until he would be in front of the trailer door, standing on the porch steps, trembling and shaking. And every time, his uncle would let him in with the same kind eyes and relieved smile. He would tuck Eddie inside with an arm thrown over his shoulders and ruffle the top of his head, even though there wasn't any hair there to mess up, because Eddie's father kept his hair buzzed and short. Once every month, since Eddie was seven, he'd shave all the hair off Eddie's hair, so it was easier to shove a beanie or hat on top of his head, when he pulled Eddie out the door with him to one of his jobs. Something Eddie had always hated.

 

Some days, it felt like he had spent half his childhood on the streets. Running. Always running.

No wonder then, that running away came second nature to him. It was practically in his blood. Made a part of his DNA. The atoms in his body rearranged and shifted so often to survive the cold, sharp winds and the harsh embrace of night, because he was a kid, who jumped out the window in just a t-shirt, before he would face the hallway and living room on the other side of his bedroom door; the atoms in his blood rearranged to change 'fight or flight' into 'flee to survive'.

 

When Eddie got older, his father went to Chicago more and more often. It was not always to do the kind of stuff that made Eddie’s stomach turn. Mostly, it was to smoke foul-smelling cigars, drink oddly colored liquids and play poker in a darkly lit room with people filled with drawings all over their skin. Eddie only knew this, because one time, he had snuck to the back room once, while the bored-looking teenagers that were supposed to be watching him, were distracted by a rounded and oddly shaped glass — that they all took turns bending over and blow smoke out of their mouths — and found his dad bent over that poker table with rough, angry looking men sat around the table with him. Brian Munson was quick to catch him and throw him back out of the room with a hard grip on his arm and an even harder voice.

Whenever Brian Munson went to Chigago, Half the time, he would take Eddie with him and they would stay there the whole weekend. Sometimes, they would even stay there a full week, even though it meant Eddie would miss out on school.

It was worse there. Brian Munson was worse there. But in Chicago, Eddie had nowhere to run to.

At least, it felt like that.

He still ran away. His hummingbird heart gave him no other choice.

A few times, he called his uncle halfway across town from the grubby motel his dad had found, and Wayne would drop everything to come get him and drive him back to Hawkins, where he'd spend a few nights in his uncle's own bed, until his dad came back home.

 

When Eddie's dad was caught and thrown into prison, Eddie went to live with his uncle. Wayne Munson was quick to buy a fold out cot, but even faster to declare his bedroom as Eddie's own, as if he had been keeping the words waiting on his tongue for years.

When Eddie's father came back out, he came to get Eddie back from Wayne and Eddie followed.

It was a pattern that went in a circle.

By the time Eddie was eleven, Eddie's dad had been thrown in prison three times. And every time, Eddie went to live with his uncle and tried not to look at the countdown to his dad's release as the end of the world.

It all stopped after Eddie turned twelve.

One week, his father took Eddie with him to Chicago.

In their motel room, they got into an argument.

Eddie had not wanted to come. He’d wanted to go and stay with his uncle. He'd wanted to stay home so he could go to school and go to practice with his band, but his dad had practically dragged him to the car, shoved him inside and slammed the car door behind him.

Before they even got to Chicago, Eddie had decided to leave. To get back to Hawkins on his own. To, essentially, run away again.

When his dad found the bag and money he'd stowed away, he was pissed. More angry and red in the face than he'd already been. It was not the first time he hit him, but it was the worst.

The motel room got a hole in the wall and Eddie got a broken hand.

He never even took him to the hospital. Just told him to go to bed early and turned his back on him, spitting about god giving him a cowardly fairy for a son.

When his dad got distracted next, Eddie pulled his bag out from the space between the wall and the musty bed, slipped out the window (even though they were on the second floor and his dad's car was parked below it) and ran; bruised and aching, clutching his hand to his chest; he ran.

In their fight, his father had taken all the money, Eddie had squirreled away, so Eddie had no way out the city and no way to call his uncle.

He tried asking for help. But no one would help a bruised, broken kid, who looked as rough and dirty as the vets lining the streets. Eddie tried stealing some, but with a broken hand, he was not as quick as he could be and people caught him. Threw him around and kicked his shins. He tried sneaking his way onto a bus, but he was thrown out. He tried stowing away on a pick-up truck, but was found.

In the end, it was the police that scraped him up off the ground of an alley. They took him to the station. Hauling him by his arms in hands as angry and sharp as his father’s.

The police asked him about his parents and Eddie, spiteful with anger and raw with pain that did not all come from his hand told them about his father and where to find him.

While his father was brought into the station for money laundering and identity theft, Eddie's uncle was called and drove all the way to Chicago to get him.

It was his uncle, who came to pick him up.

It was his uncle, who took him to the hospital and his uncle, who not only drove him back to his place, but brought him back home.

It was his uncle, who cried, when social services finally gave him a signed and sealed document that declared his custody over Eddie.

And it was his uncle, who saw Eddie through the tears and pain of trying to revive his messed up, broken hand, once it got out of the cast. Who was there, when Eddie was told he would have permanent damage in his hand for the rest of his life.

It was his uncle, who, time and time again, helped Eddie through bad days and nights, when his hand cramped up and pain kept him awake and away from everything he loved.

 

 

Eddie’s father only came looking for him once. It was before his trial and subsequent final prison sentence (although they did not know that at the time).

He came to Forest Hills trailer park, hammering on their door in the middle of the night, demanding Eddie back. Saying loud and drunk that Eddie was his and Wayne couldn't take him; he needed Eddie. Wayne just sat with Eddie in the furthest room and furthest corner from the front door and held him tight. Hands pressed into him and arms encasing him in his body while Eddie shook and shook; while Eddie clutched at his uncle with his one working hand and the tips of the fingers of his broken one; the tips of his fingers just peeking out of the cast, barely able to graze his uncle's flannel. His one hand digging so deep, he must have left bruises, and shook his head, burying away in his uncle's chest, trying to drown out his father.

But then his father let slip how Eddie had always had such clever hands and could manage tricks he never had.

That had his uncle surge up, tell Eddie to stay and stomped out to the door. The door banged open and the sound of a gun cocking rocked through the trailer.

Eddie clamped his hands over his ears, the best he could, and squeezed his eyes shut, rocking back and forth. Mumbling and whispering nonsense to himself, as if he could drown out the world, if only he could remember his favorite passages from The Lord of the Rings and the Earthsea trilogy.

Despite his desperate efforts, he still heard his uncle tell his dad to get lost, that Eddie was Wayne's kid and had been since the first time Wayne found him on his doorstep; since he'd gotten Eddie through his fever; since Wayne was the first one to hold him in the hospital back when he had been born. He also heard the ugly, loud words his dad spewed at his uncle in return. And the gunshot that ripped through the air. (Later, Wayne did tell him it had been a warning shot into the air, but that had not changed the way Eddie had flinched hard and then felt such relief course through him, when the night fell quiet and he wondered for a moment, if that meant his father was gone for good.)

Eddie’s father left without another word.

The trial came and went and Eddie’s father went to prison on the longest sentence yet and Eddie never saw him again.

 

In his uncle's home, Eddie could finally stop running.

But that did not mean he ever did.

Running away was a hard-learned lesson and it was harder still to let go off.

His uncle did everything he could to soothe the bruising touch of Eddie’s father, but it was an uphill, impossible climb.

He never gave up on him though. Not on his bad days. Not when the police came knocking on his door with yet another warning that they had pulled Eddie from some unsavory corner and bothered its neighbors. Not that time he came to on the floor of their shower, shaking and trembling with his latest supply from Reefer Rick’s flushed down the toilet and the knowledge that it had been a close one. Not when he failed to graduate High School the first time. And not the second time either. Not when he spent days and nights, kept awake by this desperate fervor to learn a new song on his guitar or write the latest idea for his campaign down that filled the missing gap he had been searching for, for weeks.

Not when he first got the signed document declaring his custody and Eddie wrenched himself out of his relieved embrace and told him, all sharp-edged and burning with heartbreak, the one thing he had always thought he would keep locked up tight inside him for the rest of his life. Not even then.

 

The last time Eddie ran away from his dear old dad, he was fifteen.

It was the day of his father's funeral.

Eddie did not want to go. If he went, he just knew, he would just kick the casket until it broke or throw a lit cigarette at the depressingly tiny selection of flowers gathered by its feet so it lit on fire and ate the entire thing up. He just knew he would do something that satisfied the angry buzz that blazed under his skin and boiled in his blood; like the swarm of angry bees that had erupted from the nest that had dropped to the ground and cracked open like an egg, when the Newman's at the other end of the trailer park, found a beehive in the tree by their trailer and asked the Johnson's to do something about it, because Mr. Newman was allergic to bees and they could not risk leaving it there.

The day before the funeral, Eddie's blood was already boiling and buzzing, and no manner of stamping around and huffing or jumping up and down, fisting and un-fisting his hands did anything to expel it; even his steadily growing collection of metal music was not working, nor did any of the cigarettes he smoked. So, he crawled out the window in the middle of the night, before his uncle came home from the night shift at the plant, he had only just taken on and high tailed it to Reefer Rick's.

Pockets full of newly acquired goods, he snuck into an abandoned building on the edge of town that was popular with drunks and bored high school students looking for a high, where he spent the day in a thick, syrupy haze on the musty, old couch. Before he collapsed on the couch, he might have thrown around one or two of the many empty beer bottles that littered the ground everywhere you looked in the building though. Which might have been a big contributor as to why he came to behind bars in the police station; his skin layered with dust and grime and the sticky, cold feeling of dried sweat and the taste of old beer and dank breath in his dry mouth. The afternoon sun was going down outside past the windows and his uncle was waiting on the other side of the bars, his Sunday hat in his weathered, callused hands and wrinkles on his face that had not been there, when the news of Eddie's father's death had reached them; wrinkles, Eddie knew from years under his uncle's care, were only ever there for Eddie.

Care and concern that Eddie was only just getting used to accepting after three years of his uncle patiently leading him there.

It had taken a lot of time. Longer still.

They were so different. Brian and Wayne Munson.

Polar opposites.

Where one left, the other stayed. Where one tried to take Eddie's hands and mold them into something they were not; the other held them, loving and soft, just as they were.

Eddie had learned how to hotwire cars from his dad, how to pick locks and pockets. Under his uncle’s care, he learned how to fix broken machinery. How to listen to engines and clicking, scratching parts of cars, A/C's, fans and other moving parts; how to pick up the hurts from just a sound and how to make it whole again.

Eddie's father taught him how to break things; his uncle taught him how to fix it.

 

The last time Eddie ran away ever (before Chrissy and alternate dimensions and freaky kids, who treated the End of the World and superpowered wizards with less hesitation than high school bullies), was when he was seventeen.

Ever since Eddie was a kid, running away was the one thing he could always count on. It would protect him, when nothing else would. It would keep him safe and bring him somewhere warm and safe. That was the only lesson he had learned from his dad (however unintentional it had been) that he had a hard time throwing away. And it took years before Eddie stopped running away at the smallest thing. There was a rabbitty heart inside Eddie's chest and it was always one drop away from carving away at his chest with a single repeating message in its grasp. Getawaygetawaygetaway. He did not always know why, just that he needed to get away.

But eventually, with the comforting smell of his uncle's home all around him, of smoke and coffee; with his uncle's arms and his soothing rumbling voice that had never quite lost the accent of his first ever home all around him; Eddie learned to let go of that failsafe. To trust. To stop running, whether that was out into the night or the smothering, heady embrace of drugs.

Until Chrissy.

In those terrible days, of bones snapping and the gruesome last image of Chrissy burned into the dark of his eyelids; of boatsheds and water lapping against wood, the sound loud and roaring, getting closer and closer, like the warning of something creeping towards to him, the longer he was curled up inside the dingy; he was haunted by both terrible images of Chrissy's death and his hand cramping up in terrible, blazing pain. The final gift Eddie's father had left him; a hand that cramped up with pain and locked up stiff and useless, especially in the cold. Just the cherry on top of the worst week of Eddie’s life.

After long nights and days in the cold of the boatshed, Skull Rock and then the Upside Down, his hand was unforgiving. It cramped up with a burning agony. It turned stiff and locked up; the joints stiff and cracking. Pain blazed to life and tore through his muscles. The inferno came hand in hand with his new nightmares of Chrissy; an old companion, in the arms of a new one. Lightning shot through his hand every time he used it. No amount of trying to work through the cramp or massage it made much of a difference. The cold made sure of that.

It was only thanks to a night in the RV they hijacked that some life returned to his hand. While the others made plans and prepared — checked their makeshift weapons and equipment and went over the plan in repeated details — Eddie sat in a shadow in the RV and worked through his stiff hand and its locked up joints, desperately trying to loosen it up, so he wouldn't be one hand down in the fight. Trying even more desperately not to cry from the pain tearing through it.

And it worked.

Barely.

It was only thanks to sheer determination and gritted teeth, burning through the flaring pain with an inner fire Vecna had poured gasoline on, when he took Chrissy, Patrick and tried to take Max that Eddie even made it through Master of Puppets. When he went to climb up the sheet leading back home, the pain flared to life like blaze of fire that tore through his hand, up his wrist and towards his arm. He stood there with a hand that would not close properly, unable to grip the sheet, and knew he would not be able to make it to the other side. He stood there and knew, if he stayed, it would be Dustin's death; it would be doom to the entire plan.

So, Eddie turned and ran and tried not to hear the ghost of his father's voice in the slap of his footsteps.

When Eddie ran from the bats, it was the pain in his hand that had never quite healed right and the echo of his father's voice, calling him weak and a coward, telling him that he couldn't run from everything, that made him turn around.

It had always been the greatest fault Eddie's father saw in him. Cowardice and a runaway.

But Eddie never understood him back then, why running away was such a bad thing. Was that not why his dad had taught him all he knew? Was that not why Eddie's fingers had been blackened with electric shocks and his father's choices through his childhood? Was that not why Eddie's fingers had been shaped and molded to easily slip money from pocket to pocket, and never once be felt — like Eddie's touch was nothing more but a whisper of the wind, a ghost and a spectre — so Eddie would always have a way out?

Not according to his dear old man.

See, the trickiest thing about teaching your kid to always look out for oneself first, was when they began to take it to heart and protect themselves from you.

Eddie's father found that out too late.

Teach a kid to be fearful and he will fear his parents too.

Teach a kid to be quiet and small, so no one will see him, when he steals the stuff his father asks him to and when he steals himself away, his father will be left with his ghost, long before either of them are dead.

 

Running away has always been the one thing Eddie has known. The one thing his body knows the steps off as much as it knows the strings of a guitar, if not more so. The one thing he can do asleep, high as a kite or drunk off his ass. Flight, is the one thing, whose footsteps he will always recognize, even blind.

So, really, by the time Hell broke through its gates and rained reckoning down upon Hawkins, Eddie simply did what he knows best.

Is it any surprise, he spent all this time running?

Then, why, oh why, did he ever stop and turn around, when he learned long ago, only death lies waiting in the shadows of his footsteps?

Maybe Eddie has lived so long without having to run away, he forgot the hardest part was never to take that first step, but to keep going once you started. That the biggest threat to Eddie's safety has always been his own mind, not the monsters he tried to leave behind.

Maybe he just wanted to prove his father wrong once. That he was different than him.

Maybe, he wanted to be brave like the people, who had come to help him, when the world was crumbling all around him and he was left hurdling through a black hole with nothing to keep him tethered.

Maybe, just maybe, he was scared and it was an easier way out. Simple.

Maybe he forgot the one person he’s always had the hardest time convincing of his own worth was himself.

Continue reading ch. 1 of A Safe Harbor on ao3

[watchmegetobsessed]

BABY MAMA

A/N: woke up and just knew i needed to write about dad Harry, bc lets be honest, he is my fav. this fic is perfectly fine as a oneshot, but if you'd like, it could be a sequel to Grammy Winner Husband and Baby Grammy, i wrote things to line up with them!

PAIRING: Husband!Harry / Dad!Harry x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

masterlist

The arena is blowing up, the fans are screaming from the top of their lungs and Harry is putting out a show just as good as the previous ones have been. He is blowing the stage up, singing, dancing, joking around with the fans, enjoying this time he gets to spend with the people who got him to this point in his life. He’ll never be not grateful for what he has, what he is experiencing, no matter how hard this life can get sometimes.

“Dallas, how are you feeling tonight?” he asks in the mic as he walks back to his water bottle to have a few sips. The crowd erupts, the screams almost burst his eardrums, but he just chuckles, easing his thirst with some water before he returns to the microphone stand.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he teasingly asks, though the reaction is the same. Insane screaming. “Alright, let’s move this show on before you get bored,” he chuckles playfully, the band starts playing the next song and he is back at what he does the best. Performing.

Though not far from the arena, there’s someone who thinks there’s something he is even better at than performing. That person is you, and you’re one hundred percent sure Harry is best at being a father to your five months old son.

Owning the stage, putting out the utter best he can, Harry’s thoughts still wander away from the show he is supposed to be focusing on. He can’t help it, his instincts are just completely drawn to his baby in the hotel suit, dying to know how he is doing. Leaving for the show late afternoon was harder than usually, because baby Theo was having a fever and coughing quite badly. His heart was breaking that he couldn’t help his son, didn’t even know what could be done for such a tiny baby.

“Love, he’ll be alright, okay? The doctor is on the way, it’s gonna be fine,” you told him gently as he was cradling Theo to his naked chest, always so eager to be skin-to-skin with him. Harry kissed his soft little curls on top of his head before nodding, though you knew it was eating him away.

“Call me or Jeff if something happens, okay?” he told you, handing Theo over to you, who was finally asleep after fussing for hours.

“I will,” you nodded, but he cupped your face to make you look at him.

“Y/N, I mean it. I’ll come off the stage if—“

“You won’t come off the stage, Theo is gonna be fine, he just probably got a cold from the aircon at the greenroom in Denver. He’ll be here when you get back, okay?”

He knew this tone, this was your momma bear voice and he would never argue with you when you used it, so he just nodded, kissed you and then Theo’s chubby cheek before heading out.

Now as he is nearing the end of the show he can’t help but think about finally being back at the hotel with his wife and baby, though he won’t let it be seen how eager he is to get off the stage.

The last song passes, the whole arena blows up from the energy and he is throwing kisses everywhere as he heads off the stage, down the aisle that leads him backstage. As he puts on his mask he turns around one last time, throwing some more kisses around to his beloved fans before disappearing behind the curtains.

“Did she call?” he instantly asks Jeff instantly, who hands him his phone over, a text from you already waiting for him.

Doc just left, everything is fine, left some meds for bub. Love you Xx

Even though this is what you told him before too, he feels relieved that the doctor confirmed it, but he still can’t wait to see the two of you.

“Alright, get the car ready, I’m leaving in ten,” he tells Jeff.

“Got it,” he nods, not even daring to argue with him. He knows better than to stand between Harry and his baby.

His legs bounce nervously on his way back to the hotel and he jumps out of the car as if it was on fire, running inside in a rush. He swipes the keycard through the reader on the door and opens it quietly, scanning over the place for you and Theo and there you are, sitting in one of the armchairs with his sleeping son in your arms, your hand gently tapping on his bum. You must have just finished feeding him, because a rag is still thrown over your shoulder and your shirt is all wrinkled around your chest. Theo loves playing with the fabric while you breastfeeding him and Harry loves watching his tiny fingers grab onto it and massaging it aimlessly.

“Hey,” he breathes out, quietly pushing the door closed behind him before he walks over, kneeling in front of you. He kisses Theo’s forehead first, before pressing his lips to yours too. “How is bub feeling?”

“He is doing good. The doc gave him some meds for the fever and we have a syrup for the coughing. He said he’ll be fine in a few days,” you softly explain to him, nodding towards everything the doctor left you on the coffee table.

Harry grabs the bottles, inspecting them as if he knows anything about medicine and you can’t help but smile as he furrows his eyebrows, reading the packaging.

“Want to put him to bed?” you ask him, his head snapping up right away.

“Of course,” he nods eagerly. You both stand up and he carefully takes the little boy from your arms without waking him up. “Hey bubs, I missed you,” he coos at Theo and as you watch him sway with the sleeping baby, your heart could easily burst from just the sight of them.

You didn’t know what life would be like as a family of three. After Harry posted a picture of you with his Grammy award and your belly ready to pop, the whole world went crazy over the fact that Harry Styles is going to be a dad. Despite the buzz, you managed to stay hidden for the rest of your pregnancy and just three weeks after that post, Theodore Styles decided to come to the world. Harry cancelled everything for the first two months, it was just the three of you, showering in the joys of parenthood. You had all the ups and downs, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Then tour got rescheduled and Harry was hesitant whether it was a good idea to go on the road with a five months old.

“Sarah and Mitch are coming too, she gave birth a week after me,” you reasoned when Harry was about to cancel the whole tour. It took you some time to convince him that it’s gonna be fine, though you knew he would be extra cautious with Theo.

Now as you see him gently sway his way to the bassinet next to your bed, knowing that he just performed to thousands of people and now he is here with you and your son, you wouldn’t change it to some peace at home. Besides, you’re convinced tour is gonna do good for Theo, make him get used to people around him, not just the two of you or the grandparents and aunts. During the first night in Vegas, he barely spent an hour in your arms, everyone wanted a piece of him and you gladly let them befriend him, especially because he loves meeting new people, just like his daddy.

As Harry lays him into the bassinet and stands next to it with a lovesick smile on his face, you sneak behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smells so fresh, he surely had a quick shower before heading back to the hotel, but you’re already planning to seduce him to join you for a quick shower as well. He won’t say no.

“Watched a livestream for a bit, you were so good,” you hum, kissing his right shoulder blade and you don’t miss how he leans back against you. “Loved the shimmery outfit.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles softly. Reaching around, he pulls you forwards so he can wrap you in his arms, kissing your forehead gently. “I missed seeing you dance at the side,” he smirks at you and you don’t miss the reference to the old times.

On his first solo tour, when you weren’t even married yet he often caught you dancing like crazy at the side of the stage, it would always make him laugh mid-song and you loved hearing his giggles through the mic, so you often did it on purpose. A few nights ago in Vegas you did the same, but with Theo in your arms, a massive ear protector on his head so the noise didn’t hurt him. When Harry spotted you, he almost started crying, he mouthed I love youand then carried on with the show.

“I’ll be there soon,” you smile at him, cupping his face in your hands to pull him down for a kiss that’s more than just a peck. “Now, I need help with something,” you mumble against his lips.

“Anything, baby.”

“I need you to help me shower,” you tell him cheekily. He pulls back and stares down at you with a playful grin, his hands already wandering under your shirt.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I need someone to wash my back and… maybe somewhere else,” you hum seductively and start pulling him towards the bathroom, peeking at Theo one last time, but he is sleeping so deep, the two of you can have some alone time.

“Alright, I could never deny anything from my favorite milf,” he grins, but you smack his chest with a gasp.

“Harry! I told you not to call me that!” you protest, the two of you walking into the bathroom not to bother the sleeping baby in the room. You start running the water right away so it can be nice and hot for you when you walk in.

“Why? You are a milf,” he smirks, so full of himself, already pulling his shirt over his head.

“Then you’re a dilf, just so you know.”

“Baby, my fans have been calling me that for years, even before Theo,” he chuckles softly.

“You were destined to be a dad,” you giggle, getting rid of your own clothes. “Hey, if Theo feels better tomorrow, we could maybe take a walk in that park we saw on the way here,” you suggest, but when no answer comes, you look at Harry and find him just standing there, fully naked, staring at you grinning widely. “What?” you ask, glancing down at your own naked body. Suddenly, you are way too aware of the weight you haven’t been able to lose after giving birth, the stretch marks on your waist and how you’re not at all freshly shaved. Just as you’d move your hands to cover yourself a bit, Harry grabs your wrists and stops you.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he hums, dropping his head until his lips could reach yours.

“Stop being such a flirt,” you giggle, feeling your face heating up.

“It’s the truth! I have the prettiest baby mama and that’s a fact.”

He looks at you with so much love and adoration in those beautiful green eyes, it almost makes you cry, knowing that this man is your husband and you get to spend the rest of your life with him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you kiss him hard, pulling him into the spacious walk in shower.

“Then come and get your baby mama wet,” you giggle against his lips, making him laugh with the ambiguous request as he shuts the glass door behind him, his lips hungrily kissing wherever he can reach and you’re pretty sure the hot water is not the only thing that’s steaming up the glass.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[fischltao]

╔══════════════╗

AOT SQUIRTING HEADCANONS

╚══════════════╝

request by: @multi-fandoms-stuff

"can I pretty request an imagine for aot eren, erwin, levi, connie, armin, jean, reiner, bertolt, ymir, and mikasa about them making there s/o squirt for the first time and there reaction, have the reader get all shy and trys to hide her face??"

notes: ahhh thank you so much for requesting, again im very sorry for the delay and late update, im back on writing now!

warnings: smut, squirting, overstimulation, bodily fluids

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Eren Jeager:

You and Eren have got it going on for a few hours with him and his titan stamina plunging into you without letting you rest for a minute. You haven't even kept track of how long it's been or how many times he's made you cum that night, only focusing on his cock stretching you open and the way he is holding your throat. It's not long until your next orgasm arrives but oh, this time it feels different and suddenly you're squirting all over him and his cock as he keeps fucking you deeper and harder.

"Eren, I need to clean up, Im so sorry I didn't know this would happen, oh my-" You wail while pushing your hands over your face but instead of him stopping he just snaps his hips against yours harder and says:

"No. You're doing it again" Needless to say, you do, indeed.

Erwin Smith:

On your break you had snuck inside Erwin's office to steal a couple of kisses which soon ended up with you laying on the table all over his paperwork and him taking out his emotions on your poor pussy, to the point where you swear someone's going to walk in with a noise complain- not just due to your loud moans- but also due to the fact that his unsteady table is repeatedly creaking on the wooden floor.

"Erwin, I'm so close, Erwin I-ERWIN" You scream as you realize what is actually happening and not being able to hold it in. Both of you are freaking the fuck out. On any other situation he would find this really hot and treat you so good for squirting on him but you just came all over important papers which needed to be delivered awfully soon and neither has zero idea of what the hell you're supposed to do now. You freaking out must have been even louder than your sex noises and now you're adamant that everyone heard.

This was a different walk of shame

Levi Ackerman:

He had just changed the sheets to your shared bedroom when you walked in half naked after your shower, instantly igniting something inside him. The past few weeks had been really tiring for both and the only way to take your exhaustion away was having you bounce on his cock until you were in tears and shaking.

"You're gonna cum baby? I'm so fucking close too" He whispered in your ear like a lullaby in-between heavy breaths as he moved your hair out of your face and locked his eyes with yours. His movements were so gentle and passionate until you both grew desperate for your release and soon he was guiding your hips faster and sloppier while smacking your ass. It wasn't long until you started shaking while he filled you up. After you both came down from your highs you gained awareness of your surroundings and immediately shrunk to yourself.

"What are you hiding away for?"

"You just changed the sheets"

"I can always put another ones" He said awkwardly as you tried to shift away from his lap, when he pulled you right back in "It would be a shame if i changed them while they're only this wet. We might as well just ruin them completely"

Connie Springer:

Sasha and Jean were sleeping on the couch next to you after a nice dinner and Connie was feeling really turned on, right from the start of the night when you felt his fingers creeping up inside your panties and circling over your clit before teasing their way inside.

"Can we at least go somewhere isolated? I feel bad for-" You choked trying not to make a sound as his finger where now dipping in and out of your cunt in a desperate need of feeling your walls clench around them "Connie-"

"It's too comfy here, try to be more quiet baby" He whispered back as he lifted your skirt and pushed his tip inside not letting it all in but rather slipping it in and then pulling out and rubbing on your clit until you felt yourself cumming. Hard.

You were trying so hard to not make a noise until you realized what actually happened and turned around to look at your boyfriend in shock with heat rising up your cheeks. This cheeky motherfucker was looking back at you with the biggest smirk before plunging his entire length inside. Definitely proud of himself... And you definetely have to clean up before a) Jean and/or Sasha wake up b) Captain Levi haunts your dreams.

Jean Kirschstein:

Jean and you had been sent on different expenditions for the week so it was safe to say that you really missed spending time with each other. And him inside you.

Once he closes his room's door he already has you pushed against the wall and taking you right there while standing up. Jean is the romantic type but missing you made him desperate for your touch. You were sure you were seeing stars at one point, the way he pressed against you was magnificent and it just kept getting better and better until you felt the bubble inside you burst and soon your juices were everywhere on the floor. Everywhere.

You instantly felt like hiding away and audibly apologized while he still fucked the shit out of you. Confused he started slowing down and voiced his concern over your sudden apology until he realized what went down and blushed. 'Thats it, its over' you thought. Suddenly the most unexpected thing happened. A huge smile crept on his face "I made you squirt! Oh my god you look so hot, I bet Eren would never be able to make a girl sq-" He exclaimed before you kicked his leg.

Armin Arlet:

Armin is such a sweet young man. He had you laid on the bed for him as he slowly fucked into you, gasping in between kisses and telling you just how much he loves you. Gaining more confidence in yourself your moans became louder and louder and soon his pace changed into sharp and quick thrusts.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train and cherished the way he was the one to make you scream and breathe like that. He felt so blessed that you chose him as the man to have inside your velvet walls and-

Why is the bed wet? Did the rain get through the wooden roof? Why are you trying to hide away? Armin genuinely had no clue.

"Is everything okay baby? Do you feel uncomfortable with the waters?" He asked as more color rose up to your cheeks, refusing to look in his eyes as you awkwardly tried to explain what had happened was not a leak in the roof "What did you say?"

"I squirted"

"Oh"

"Yes"

"This is way more exciting than a leaking roof...Way more"

Reiner Braun:

Reiner is an emotional man and it shows when you get intimate with each other. One time he has you on all fours, with a finger deep in your asshole as he rails your guts.

"Noone else can fuck you like that fuck- what is it baby, is there anyone else that will fuck you this good? Have you crying from their cock? Use your words princess come on" He gasped as his own tears were threatening to fall, seeking emotional validation as well as pleasure as you tried to form a coherent sentence while sobbing "Didn't think so darling, you're such a whore for me"

And in the heat of the moment the offspring of his actions and words erupted from your throat as a loud scream and your juices squirted all over his lap for the first time. The sighting made Reiner cum in an instant and neither had the energy to talk about it, until he embraced you tightly from behind and thanked you for allowing him to be with you and sharing your most vulnerable moment with him.

Berthold Hoover:

His cock felt so good as you bounced on it . In a way it was therapeutic and for the past 7 minutes you've been in this position you've felt constantly on the edge and your thighs burned until sweet release washed you over and soon you were clasping poor Bert's shoulders as you screamed and squirted all over him while he pulled his dick out of your spent pussy and slapped its head on your clit as he watched more liquid come out.

After your orgasm died down a little, instant shame washed over you and you tried hopping away before he hugged you tightly and swayed you without realizing that hes accidentally rubbing you on his cock again and that you are about to pass out....

Ymir:

Ymir is a big tease. A really big one. Proof being her refusing to finally push her fingers inside your soaked slit, instead choosing to just rub up and down while slipping half an inch inside before you grew desperate and moved your own fingers to your clit and rubbing vigorously.

"Fuck" You heard her exclaim before plunging two of her fingers inside "Don't stop touching yourself baby, wanna make you cum like that" She commanded as her fingers dove in and out as fast as she could while you screamed under her touch. Your orgasm came fast and before you knew it, Ymir was soaking wet with your juices . "Never knew my girl could squirt, makes me wish I ate you out instead" She says before diving in.

Mikasa Ackerman:

It was a quiet night with Mika as you laid on your bed next to each other. Your conversation ended with your fingers in her pussy and hers in yours. Both struggled with the pace as you chased your release and her moans in your ear caused you to lose control and instantly let go and clench around her fingers as clear liquid soaked the sheets right beneath you and she turned her head to look at you in awe.

"I'm so sorry Mikasa I didn't know this would-"

"Do you think I can do this too?" She asked with flushed cheeks and an innocent look on her face.

"Eh? Squirt?" You asked and before she had the chance to nod you took out the dildo from your drawer and plunged it deep into her dripping pussy.

[spilledkauffie]

Dating Bruce Wayne HCs 🦇

xFemale!Reader // I just really love my batbaby, I wrote this for comfort at 3am. Sorry, it’s a little long!

Penthouse / The Mansion — when Bruce starts dating you he very quickly offers you a key to his penthouse and the mansion. While he means it out of trust and care for you, he also means it as a form of safety. Knowing that you can find a refuge in one of his safe houses makes him feel a little more at ease when things get seriously dangerous in the city. Once or twice he’s even sent you specifically to the mansion since it’s farther away from the inner city and he knows you’ll be safest there. || “you’re sure about this?” You question, amazed that Gotham’s richest Just handed over the keys to his house, “I mean I’m absolutely flattered, but I not allowed to just come over anytime-“ // “yes, you are,” Bruce assures you, “Wayne manor is as good as yours,” he shrugs with a half smile, seeing your face, “you know Alfred always likes company too.”

↳ he also explains that he really wouldn’t mind if you spent most of you time at his place. “Are you asking me to move in?” You smile, heart racing afraid he’d say no. “I don’t mean to impose, but here’s plenty of room, I’d love to have you there, after all the place could use a woman’s touch,” he blinks lovingly. “And so could you, Master Wayne,” Alfred comments walking by.

Driving the Lamborghini — you were shocked when he let you drive after you commented how much you loved his car. “Really?” You smiled, eyebrows raised, “but what if something happens- I- I won’t try to cause anything, but just what if-“ Bruce just smiles, looking over to you from the passenger seat, “if anything goes wrong, I’ll buy a new one, okay? Don’t worry, just have some fun.”

When You Found Out — Gotham isn’t a hard place to find yourself endangered in. Therefore when the Dark Knight showed up in the nick of time you found it curious that of all the crime situations he’d save you. It all made sense however when he dropped the gravely voice to quietly ask you, “are you okay?” // it took you a moment, looking over what you could see of his face, meeting his eyes you knew exactly who it was “Bruce?!” You say shocked, but he just repeats the question softly, “y-yeah, I’m okay, a little shook up, but-” // “I’m taking you back to stay with Alfred for the rest of the night. I promise I’ll explain everything in the morning.”

Falling asleep — since Bruce is usually up all night and still manages to make himself available for any Wayne company meetings, he is tired! More often than not he’ll fall asleep during the daytime hours. || frequently, you’ll be reading on the couch and he’ll come rest his head in your lap, hooking an arm under your knee and using your thighs as a pillow, before questioning what you’re reading. When you tell him he asks you to read aloud, naturally doing so, you stroke your free hand through his hair, gently fluffing it every now and then. Eventually, you hear him softly breathing, sound asleep. Typically you’ll stop reading aloud and just let him sleep in quiet.

↳ sometimes when you had plans for a day, you opt to cancel them based on how tired he is when he gets back. Finding him in his study, practically falling asleep at his desk, you let him know you’ll be staying home. Standing next to his chair, you tenderly reach your hand across his shoulders, rubbing them, when he stirs you tell him, “What? No, but you really wanted to go-“ he starts, sitting up a little more, looking up at you sweetly. “Bruce, I just want to spend time with you,” you almost laugh at how determined he is to wear himself out, “I don’t want to exhaust you, I really don’t mind staying home, as long as you’re home.” With that he pulls you into his lap; you reach your arms around his shoulders and he nuzzles against your chest, arms snug around your waist. You don’t mind one bit that he falls asleep, you just play with the tops of his hair stroking the back of his neck, hugging him a little closer, simply glad that he’s home & safe.

Hyper-protective — naturally, Bruce is extremely protective of you. Bruce has a really good understanding of independence, but he also knows the kind of guys in the elite society of Gotham (aka the people you’ll meet at parties he’s invited to). He’s always at your side, and loves to have you at his side at all times. Someone gets a little too friendly and Bruce is phenomenal at shutting them down. Typically they’ll only verbally address you, but should they ever try anything it’s a comfort knowing Bruce could, well, kick their ass if they laid so much as a finger on you.

Parties — Bruce can always tell when you’re feeling uncomfortable in the high-class society, you start leaning into him more and more, getting gradually more clingy as the night goes on. Bruce is a master as getting out of situations with easy excuses, so when he gives ones without you having to ask you fall in love just a little bit more.

Long Nights in the Batcave — after you found out, there are some nights you just can’t sleep knowing Bruce is out there getting into Heaven knows what kind of danger. Alfred often finds you sitting up in the Batcave with a hot cup of tea or sometimes coffee, so you can stay awake. Alfred’s become you buddy at staying up, most of the time, rarely he calls it a night, but when he does it’s usually because Bruce told him it was going to be an easy mission or it was just investigative. Alfred asks if you’re going to retire as well, “I know he would want me to just go to bed and not worry,” you admit, pulling your knees into yourself more, “but I just can’t help but worry about him.” Alfred watches you keeping a keen eye on the the tracking screen, “I know what you mean, I’m glad he’ll have someone much prettier to come back to now though.”

↳ when Bruce finds you sitting alone in the Batcave upon his return, he’s both relieved to see you and mildly frustrated that you didn’t get any sleep all thanks to him. “I thought you said you were going to try and get some sleep,” he calls to you, slipping off the mask as he makes his way over to you. “I was just worried,” you say in a small voice, sniffling, pressing the tea cup closer to your chest, in an attempt for some warmth in the cave. Sighing quietly, Bruce looked you over, “you should head upstairs, you’re freezing, I can tell.” Despite his efforts, you tell him you’ll wait until he’s ready too. So, Bruce wraps the heavy velvet cape around your shoulder in the meantime.

Aftercare — unlike some heroes, Bruce has the scars to prove it. He comes home bruised, bleeding, sometimes worse. You do everything you can to help with his injuries, even if that means just holding an icepack to the middle of his back. // Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bruce rests his forearms on his thighs, bending over slightly as you gently press the ice filled bag to his raspberry tinted shoulder. When he grumbles at the cold, you whisper "sorry" stroking up and down his bicep with your free hand as you pepper kisses across his back. Bruce takes your hand in his, turns to kiss your knuckles, and whispers against your skin, "thank you, somehow it feels better with you."

Aftermath — Bruce is usually a little more clingy after a serious fight with some injuries. He's thinking about what he could have lost, you, and if you'd lost him how guilty he would feel knowing he left you alone. Typically he also takes a night or two off, to recover, in which you can actually have some normalcy (save for him going down to the Batcave) in life. You stay with him in bed while he sleeps in, cuddling him until he wakes up and even then. You also help Alfred make him breakfast in bed, so he can take it easy for just a little while longer. // When it's really bad, you even take off work to stay with him. Combing his hair out of his face, you're the first thing Bruce wakes up to, "hey,. . .aren't you supposed to be downtown?" he asks, still groggy. "I took a few days off," you explain. "Did you tell him you were nursing Batman back to health?" He laughs. "No," you sigh, "I told him Bruce Wayne would buy out his business if he didn't give me two days off," you smile. "Oh, that makes things much easier then," Bruce kisses your wrist smiles up at you.

Batman voice — it has definitely happened once or twice, where Bruce will accidentally use the "Batman voice" on you, not even in arguments, but just in everyday things. Smiling widely after he address you with it, you turn with your hands on your hips, "did you just use your batman voice on me?" you nearly laugh, "what. . . no," he tries to cover up. "You totally did!" You laugh this time. "No-" but before he can finish his sentence you're already mimicking his batman voice standing in your most macho stance, walking towards him between giggles, "alright, alright," Bruce grabs you by the waist, pulling you close, "it just slipped out."

Daytime Sex — since he's preoccupied during the night (or at least most nights), Bruce usually manages to steal you away from whatever you're doing for awhile. He starts out fairly subtle, coming up behind you whilst you're working on your laptop, he moves your hair to one side and begins kissing the side of your neck softly. "Mmm, hi," you giggle, biting in your lower lip. "Hi," he noses your hair, "how busy are you?" You smile, looking over your shoulder as his hands slip down your sides, "how busy do you want me to be?" He pulls back, "with work? Not very. With me? Very." Naturally he sweeps you off your feet to the bedroom, or at least a bedroom when you're at the manor.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐𝘐 - 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙚) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || the finale.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 3.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || fluff, angst, implied smut, domestic goodness, more EMOTIONS!!!

six months ago...

Bucky wrung his hands a few times before knocking on your door, feeling his heart beat a little faster when he could hear the sounds of your footsteps on the other side. He'd been dreaming of a day like this for so long— the day he finally acted on this secret obsession he had, the day he stopped fantasizing and started realizing— but all this time, part of him had never really thought he'd go through with it. I mean, there's a pretty big difference between jerking off to videos of dominant women and actually getting spanked, slapped, and choked by a dominatrix after paying her an insane amount of money per hour.

But frankly, Bucky needed a big difference from what he'd been doing. He'd been alone for a little too long, he needed someone else's touch before he lost his mind. And he knew that he needed something more substantial than a hook-up, someone who wouldn't expect him to be dominant at all. Even in a kink-less, vanilla hook-up, there’s still an onus of dominance, that’s what Bucky had realised. He’s still supposed to initiate, to guide, to be fully in control… and he hates how it feels to be in control. He’s not used to it, and it doesn’t feel right, and it just makes him sure he’ll do something wrong. So here he was, standing at your door, hoping you’d take away his freedom to do something wrong.

The latch turned and you opened it.

Fuck.

You looked great. Too great, almost overwhelming. Even better than the pictures on your website.

You looked so much softer than the women he saw whenever he searched up femdom porn (yes, that was pretty much the first thing he did once he figured out google— thankfully he had also figured out incognito mode), but your presence was twice as commanding. Your eyes scanned over him quickly and your face stayed annoyingly stoic.

You invited him in; And since then, you’d had him wrapped around your finger.

Even knowing to a certain extent what he was getting into, he could’ve never prepared for how quickly he’d fall for you. Not that he was exactly new to the feeling, but he thought guilt might eat him alive: because of course he felt awful for developing real feelings for you. You were just doing your job and he was falling into the same trap that probably every dumbass client fell into.

Or maybe they actually knew what they were doing and understood how to separate fantasy from reality. He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

He spent a few hours trying to decide while staring up at his ceiling— certainly a better way to spend the time than being social or taking care of unfinished business, right?

But leave it to you to change everything with just three words. Make me yours.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about those words— or about the way you said them— since the moment you spoke them. He hadn’t stopped changing his mind on if he could really believe you were his or not. He wanted to, more than anything; and in those brief moments he did, he felt a joy that he had no idea what to do with.

He frowned as he turned his back towards the mirror, looking over his shoulder to watch his finger run over the fading scars on his back. They’d be gone for good in less than a week, but he knew you had left plenty of permanent marks on him— just unfortunately not those that anyone else could see. He liked the way these scars looked under your fingertips much more than his; he liked everything about being in your arms.

Since you’d texted him to ask if you could have a serious talk with him soon, he worried he wouldn’t get to feel that again. In fact, nothing worried him more.

He was typically antsy as he waited for you to answer the door— he had been since that very first time so long ago— but this felt entirely different: not as jittery, but a thousand times more anxious.

At first he’d been wishing you’d answer it right away, but then he heard your bolt turn and panic landed on him like a dangling anvil dropping on a cartoon character. Suddenly the last thing he wanted was for you to open that door, to be standing there looking all perfect and shit, to smile at him and greet him and invite him in. He didn’t want it; he couldn’t take it.

But you did it all anyway, though it was obviously and immediately a new situation entirely, compared to every other time you’d done it.

You were dressed differently, still formal but definitely toned down. Nothing sexual, at least not objectively. And your smile, though it still made his heart skip a beat just like always, was noticeably softer and maybe a bit sadder.

He stepped in past you, and you surprised him by sitting next to him on the couch rather than across from him on your chair. “Do you want, like, water or anything?” you asked, breaking the silence for a moment.

“No, I’m fine,” he nodded.

Bucky had gotten pretty good at silence these past few years; it didn’t bother him, in fact he barely even noticed it. But this silence made him remember why everyone else hated silence so much: it was heavy and thick and made him overcome with the need to blurt something out. “Everyone calls me Bucky,” he finally admitted. You smiled.

“Do you want me to call you that?” you asked.

He considered your question, trying to imagine you saying it. “I… I used to think it would be better, but now I like the way you say ‘James’ too much.”

“If you thought it would be better, why did you ask me to call you James?” you pressed.

“Because I didn’t want you to know who I was.”

“I know who you are,” you informed him. “I always knew.”

He swallowed as the pit formed in his gut, glancing away to hide from your gaze. “You did a good job of… of pretending you didn’t. You never seemed scared of me.”

“Because I wasn’t. And I’m not.”

He couldn’t imagine how; but then again, if there was any truly fearless woman, he figured it would be you. “I thought you’d beat me up better if you knew what I’d done,” he admitted, almost smiling but not exactly feeling very happy. “Thought you might want… revenge.”

“Surprised that didn’t make you want to tell me.”

He laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You asked him a very different question next, one that made his throat suddenly dry: "Have you ever had something that was all your own?" you spoke gently.

"Not for a long time…" he trailed off, letting his eyes unfocus as he stared down at your floor before finding the courage to look up at you again. “Is that what you wanna be?” he asked, already wishing he hadn’t said anything in case it was too presumptuous, but you just smiled back at him in a shy sort of way.

“Something like that,” you mitigated.

His eyes darted around your face— from your eyes glancing away, to your lips that you gnawed on for a moment, to the little crease between your brows— and he found himself leaning forward before he even realized it. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer, you just kissed him first; he was so relieved that you did it, too, that you took control so easily and just let him melt into your kiss. As good as it felt to submit to you, he enjoyed the new freedom he had in this moment as well— the freedom to reach up and grab your waist, to brush his hand over your hair, to tilt his head and deepen the kiss further.

It was hard to define exactly where it went from innocent to sensual to sexual, but by the time you were straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair, it was definitely sexual.

“I want you,” you breathed against his lips.

“Have me,” he offered immediately, “I’m yours. Always was.”

He breathed in sharply when you moved your hips just right to rub up against his swelling cock through his jeans, making him grip your waist a bit harder. “Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, James.”

He believed you this time, finally.

For your first real date, he took you to Coney Island. Not the classiest affair, and he promised to take you somewhere really nice next, but you didn’t mind. It was jarring to see you in casual clothes for the first time, something summer-y and light which was everything opposite to how he was used to seeing you; but he liked it, and he liked knowing a secret about you as you walked through a crowd of carnival-goers that were none the wiser.

He walked you through the fair and explained how he remembered it, showed you the few things that hadn’t changed much. He bought you a hot dog and even won you a prize at one of the games; that one where you throw a baseball and it measures your pitch speed? Yeah, it’s rigged, but he pitched lefty and it seemed to even everything out. (It’s not cheating, okay? It’s beating them at their own game, literally.)

So with a massive teddy under one arm and his waist wrapped in your other, you two walked through the winding pier, under twinkling lights and over walkways towering over the ocean below. And then you fooled around a bit on the ferris wheel. It was the ideal Coney Island experience, for sure.

Bucky didn’t have a ton of friends, per se, but he was excited for you to meet them. Meeting friends was certainly a step, though; hopefully a step you were willing to take, but he didn’t want to ask you to do it without at least having a title to introduce you with.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he finally told you.

“I kinda thought I already was,” you laughed.

And so, with more pride than he might have ever had for anything before, Bucky finally got to take you to meet everyone (‘everyone’ being a mix of his friends and his coworkers, who may or may not be his friends because he couldn’t always tell) and say “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend.”

Of course you were amazing with all of them; you continued that tactful “I know who you are but I’m pretending I don’t to be nice” thing that you’d started with him, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. You cracked a couple jokes, everyone laughed.

You lied about how you and Bucky met, or at least answered very strategically. Everyone at least pretended to believe you.

Afterwards, they all said something about how great you were or about how lucky he was. The only thing he ever said back was “I know.”

Now that he could kiss you without breaking any rules, he never wanted to stop. He hardly ever did, actually. He kissed you basically whenever he could get the chance; you two didn’t even go out much anymore because he wasn’t very good at keeping his hands to himself, but you weren’t exactly complaining about staying in. You were too busy kissing him back, and teasing him mercilessly while you were at it, to do that.

You had already found the fastest way to get him needy and begging, not that any way took very long. If you kissed him while you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around him and slowly grinding against him, he lost it in minutes. And you really seemed to get a kick out of watching him lose it, just as much as always.

It made him realize that the way you looked at him before, in sessions and scenes together, was a lot less of an act than he’d assumed at the time. He just thought you were a really good actress, or that he was really whipped; and maybe the first was true, and the second was absolutely true, but regardless it had become clear that you had it almost as bad as he did from the beginning. It gave him even more respect for how well you controlled yourself, he certainly hadn’t had much self-control at the time— after all the whole ordeal was about losing control, and occasionally about trying to gain it back.

He didn’t ask you to quit your job. He didn’t want or expect you to; but you did cut down your hours, which gave the two of you more time together.

To be totally honest, part of him got a bit titillated to imagine you with your other clients. He didn’t like the idea of other men touching you, but he smirked at the thought of them begging to touch you and being denied; he liked knowing that you didn’t do with them even half of the stuff you’d done with him when he was your client.

But he wasn’t your client anymore. He was your boyfriend, and he wanted the world to know it.

six months later...

He let you struggle to reach the top shelf for a moment, just because you looked cute on your tip-toes with the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, before he finally relented and helped you grab the bottle of rice wine vinegar.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he set it in the cart.

After that you let him grab everything, content to stand on the end of the cart and push you around as you reminded him what else you needed.

“We’re out of Captain Crunch!” you remembered as he passed the cereal aisle, pointing to try to get him to turn.

“Yes, and we need to stay that way,” Bucky explained sternly, “that shit is addictive. Only way to avoid it is to not have it in the house.”

You frowned but accepted that he was absolutely right, though you groaned when he took you to the refrigerated section to stock up on chicken breasts. “I swear, you would eat these for breakfast if you didn’t think I’d judge you for it,” you joked.

“What’s wrong with chicken breasts?”

“They’re just so… bland!”

“Not if you season them right,” he corrected.

“Which you don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on, at least splurge on some chicken thighs. They’re basically the same but so much more flavorful.”

“Fine, but no more making fun of my cooking,” Bucky decided, placing the breasts back on the shelf and grabbing two packs of thighs instead. “I’m still adapting to 21st century sensibilities.”

“Right,” you nodded, though he caught your smile in the corner of his eye— you knew he couldn’t exactly claim to still be as conservative as he was raised to be in every way.

Like any well-planned grocery run, it ended at the frozen section where you got some fruit bars and frozen vegetables (you had this theory that frozen vegetables tasted better in fried rice than fresh ones, and so far you’d proven him right) and he got a pizza to have for dinner in a pinch. When shopping alone before, he always did self-checkout to avoid being seen anymore than he had to… he still did it with you, but he didn’t even think about who might be looking at him, because all he saw was you.

You drove for this trip, and he always felt oddly soothed by riding passenger with you at the wheel. He liked to close his eyes and lean back a bit, or occasionally look over at you (but if he did it too much you complained that he was being creepy and distracting you). It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he enjoyed the feeling of you taking control, considering everything, but it was one of those little ways that he hadn’t expected. He just felt so comfortable, so safe with you, and never he felt like he was a burden for asking you to take the lead when he didn’t trust himself with it. And that applied to everything— driving, cooking, speaking up in crowds, all those little things that sometimes made him anxious.

There were some things he didn’t have any trouble being dominant about, though. He was very protective of you, for example, and tended to be uptight about how late you went out for walks or where you should be going alone. And he didn’t struggle to ask you for what he wanted— he was getting a lot better at asking for help, specifically.

He used to ask you to say that you loved him, instead of just saying ‘I love you’ himself, because for some reason it was easier to make you do it first. It started as something he’d beg for in the throes of passion, fingers digging into your skin as his eyes watered (as they often did in intimate moments): please, say you love me— jus’ need to hear you say it, please? And you were always sweet about it in return, of course I love you, James, my good boy, I love you so so much. But then he’d ask you to say it whenever he felt like it— he’d come up behind you while you were reading or cooking or something and kiss the top of your head or the shell of your ear and try to act nonchalant as he asked you love me, right?

You’d laugh and roll your eyes before you answered, but it was, thankfully, always a ‘yes.’ Eventually you figured out how often you needed to say it to make him stop asking all the time, which was probably a little too often.

“I love you,” you blurted out randomly as you turned on your signal and leaned a bit to make sure it was safe to make a left— case in point.

“I love you too,” he answered back with a smile.

“I don’t mind saying it so often,” you added, “but you know that I love you even when I’m not saying it, right? I love you all the time.”

It was a simple question, probably mostly rhetorical, but it hit him harder than he expected. “Yeah, I know,” he managed to get out evenly enough that you didn’t notice he was tearing up a bit.

He put the groceries away while you took the trash out; you liked to keep the fridge pretty organized, and it was an adjustment at first, but by now Bucky had it down pat. Before you, he hadn’t even considered that the contents of a refrigerator could be aesthetically pleasing.

Dinner was leftovers in front of the TV— you two were almost done with Frasier, but after that you had ten seasons of Friends to get through. You had tried to encourage him to watch more challenging stuff— you know, True Detective, Hannibal, dark cerebral stuff with arguably more artistic merit than classic sitcoms— but Bucky had had enough darkness in his life that he didn’t need it in his fiction. Maybe he’d find the time to catch up on the last 80 years of dramas and murder mysteries after he caught up on the last 80 years of comedy.

After dinner you were going to do yoga and Bucky, not in the mood to embarrass himself with that, retired to the bedroom a bit early to read his book— he’d heard a lot about this Harry Potter guy and now that he was on the fourth book and could hardly put it down, he understood the hype. He related a bit to the unwilling war hero in its protagonist; most of the time the series enthralled him, but occasionally something would hit too deep and he’d have to put it away for a couple days. At the moment, though, he was in one of the easy parts where it was just about schoolwork and childhood antics.

He instinctively glanced at the door when he heard you open it— he wasn’t sure how long it had been time-wise, but he’d gotten through quite a few pages— but he only quickly looked up at you as you shut the door behind you, before returning his attention to the book he was reading. “So, Bucky…” you began.

“Yeah?” he mumbled.

“James.”

It wasn’t any one thing that got his attention— not just the tone of your voice or the way it got a bit deeper, not just the look you gave him, not just the way the air of the room seemed to shift all at once. It was everything about you that made his body react instantly. He shut the book and set it aside, sitting up straight to look at you expectantly.

And you seemed to notice his instinctual obedience, considering you just barely smirked at him, raising an eyebrow as he spoke his reply: “Yes, Mistress?”

[iwadori]

So I'm reading your works and I love them !! I was thinking of requesting some kind of drabble or whatever you like, about a female reader who has thick thighs and is somewhat plump and is in love with Tsukishima but he makes a comment about the food and she feels bad and when she meets Bokuto in the boot camp Bokuto is too cute and attentive to her asking for her number and a date. If you don't feel comfortable with this, just ignore it and good luck with your blog. Sorry my english is bad<3

When they make you insecure PT 5 (tsukishima,bokuto)

Part One Part Two  Part Three Part Four  Part Five Part 6

Word Count: 2.6K

Genre: Angst to Fluff

masterlist

Tsukishima

You and Tsukishima have been dating in your first year (as you both went to the same middle school together.)

You were in love with Tsukishima, you always have been to be honest, but once you became officially boyfriend and girlfriend your feelings amplified.

But recently, Tsukishima hasn’t been so nice.  

“Y/N we’re going on another training camp at Nekoma” Hinata exclaimed running up to you, as you leaning against Tsukishima “and you get to come too this time!”

You recently became the new trainee manager as the third-year manager, Kikyoko, is going to graduate. Tsukishima acted as if you being around all the time in practice was the worst thing in the world, but Yamagucchi always assured you that ‘Tsukki’ was just joking.

“Oh well that’s fun...” you say entertaining Hinata’s excitement. You were kind of excited to go to the training camp too, as it was in Tokyo after all. You were always a big fan of volleyball as your dad used to play for the national team and you were planning to play on the girls team this year but you felt that you didn’t have the body for it (which was obviously not true.)

Hinata kept on rambling on before Tsukishima insulted him. “Gosh Kei, you don’t have to be so rude.” you complained, he slightly nudged you off of him and put on his headphones showing you that he was not in a good mood.

You let the rest of the practice continue, making notes of things and basically being Kiyoko’s shadow. As it ended, you waited outside for Tsukishima to walk home with you, but one of the guys told you he left 5 minutes ago. You knew there was no point of chasing after him so you just walked on your own, making you sigh in defeat.

Tsukishima was what you would describe as hot and cold. Some days he was fine a ‘perfect gentlemen’ but other days, days like this Tsukishima was just Tsukishima.  

When you got home, you decided to watch matches of all the other schools just to get some insight. You were watching a Fukarodani V Nekoma match from a few years ago and something caught your eye, well someone did to be more specific. A beefy, bicolour haired boy who was hooting like an owl was mesmerizing to watch.

You saw that his name was Bokuto Koutarou which triggered your next actions, which were to internet stalk him. You learned that he was the captain of the team and the team’s ace and the 5th ace in the country which piqued your interest in the boy even more.

‘This is going to be an exciting training camp’ you think to yourself before going to sleep.

`Kiyoko gave you an itinerary of all the things you should bring, since you weren’t going to be joining in any of the matches you were reminded to bring things that would keep entertained.  

You get to the bus at the crack of dawn, ready to be driven to Tokyo. Hinata and Kageyama were already arguing (let’s pretend that they didn’t have to do the retakes in the test) Tanaka and Nishinoya were being loud, and the rest of the members were already asleep. You wanted to sit next to Tsukishima but when you were about to sit down, he put his carryon bag in the seat next to him.

The bus ride was around 4-5 hours, and you spent your time reading and sleeping. Daichi got the loudmouths to calm down making the bus ride more tolerable. You suffered from slight motion sickness but you powered through.

When you arrived there, you saw all the other teams and their buses too. You felt a bit overwhelmed, seeing these tall boys just crowd around an entrance way. But too your surprise, noticing your slight anxiousness, Tsukishima grabbed your hand in a hand-hold.  

The Nekoma coach, explained how the day would pan out and where each team would be residing for the week. There was a lot of commotion getting everyone settled, Hinata and Nishinoya were basically bouncing off of the wall commenting on all the people and the place and how they’re going to ‘crush the competition.’  

You could tell that when the other teams were looking at Karasuno they were all staring at Kiyoko. Inquisitive about how there wasn’t only one girl manager but there was two. As you were walking your eyes locked with Bokuto Koutarou’s making yours widen, you blush and turn your head quickly.  

What you didn’t know was, after your small interaction, Bokuto elbowed Akaashi and said “Akaaashi AKKAAASHI, did ya see that? did ya?” he was flying with happiness “That girl from Karasuno smiled at me. She’s really pretty.”

“I think she’s from Karasuno” Akaashi said “So maybe you’ll see her around”

Bokuto stared off in the direction you were walking in “Yeah, hopefully.”

The first day, everyone got settled in and then the teams went straight into games. There were two different gyms and today, in gym 1, you were watching Karasuno V Nekoma. (By the way I literally don’t remember the teams at the training camp besides Nekoma, Karasuno and Fukarodani.) The game was very back a point each team making point after point, you already knew of Nekoma’s captain, Kuroo Testurou and the setter Kenma, you’ve actually played games with Kenma online before so you were fairly acquainted with him already.

The games ended and it was now dinner time, the canteen was packed with all the boys rushing to line up for the food. You waited at the back of the line, not really caring about when you got your food. Suddenly, you felt a tap on your shoulder and you looked over to see Boktuo,  

“Hi.” he said “I’m Bok-”

“Bokuto Koutarou!” You finished “I'm a big fan..” you cringed immediately at your excitement ‘pull it together Y/N’ you scold yourself.

“Oh well hi, I’m glad you know who I am” he said “and may I ask for your name?”  

“Oh I’m Y/N L/N” you say with a slight blush “I'm the trainee manager from Karasuno.”  

“Cool! Well I hope to see you aro-” he starts  

“Y/N, I’ve been looking all over for you, I already got your food for you.” Tsukishima said pulling at your arm a bit harshly, dragging you over to a table with the Karasuno team.

“Gosh Tsukki, no need to be so harsh” you say rubbing at your wrist, he didn’t apologize and just started eating his food.  

You look down at your plate and see the small portion that Tsukki got for you. The Karasuno bunch was being loud, as they usually are, so when you whisper “Tsukki what the fuck is this” whilst nudging him in the side, he didn’t hear you (or atleast he pretended he didn’t.) You tried again but a little louder saying, “Tsukishima what the fuck is this.” you realised you said it a bit too loud as the whole Karasuno table stopped their conversations to look over at the slight commontion you caused.

“What do you mean Y/N?” he said with a slight smirk on his face.

“I mean what’s with the portion size of a bird that you gave me?” you ask getting upset “Do you really think im that big?”

“Well, you could start eating less that’s for sure.” he said earning gasps from you and some of the people sitting at the table “Y/N let's face it, you eat like a pig and you look like an elephant, me making your food portion smaller is the least I could do.”  

By now you had tears in your eyes, Tsukishima was a dick. You knew this, everybody knew this to be honest, yet you still loved him. He wasn’t like this in middle school, yes he was a bit snarky and rude (but wasn’t every middle schooler?) High school Tsukishima was like a completely different person. As much as you wanted to run away and hide, you knew you couldn’t.  

So you stood up and said “Tsukishima, I’ve spent 3 years loving and pining after you, because I thought you were this great guy, but turns out you’re a huge asshole” you start making some of the people listening in smile in laughter “Tsukishima, I’ve hated this past year dating you, you’ve been such a huge dick and I’m finally stopping you. I can’t do this anymore. I won’t.” You start making your way to exit before finally saying “Oh and by the way I’m not the pig here, you are... oh and I’m breaking up with you.” You left, hearing a few laughs and some claps behind you.

You felt relieved, like the massive cloud that’s been over your head is finally gone. You went to the gym since you knew it was empty and picked up a ball to just throw it around a bit. After a while of ‘de-stressing,’ you hear someone else enter the gym.

“Oh I didn’t know you’d be here.” said Bokuto  

“Well here I am,” you say awkwardly “I can leave if you want me too, I know this is for actual volleyball players.”

“No no it’s fine you can definitely stay, in fact do you mind setting for me?” he asks  

“Sure, of course I don’t mind” you reply, excited you get to play with someone.  You haven’t played in ages, you always begged Tsukishima to just throw a ball around with you but he never did.  

You set to Boktuo a lot, with him always asking for ‘another one’ everytime he spiked the ball. Eventually, you were tired of setting and wanted to spike. You originally was a spiker to begin with taking after your dad. Thats why you took a liking to Bokuto in the first place cause he reminded you of the joys you had when watching your father play.

Bokuto set a ball to you and you spiked it with great strength and accuracy smiling at the burning feeling you felt in your palm.  

“Woahh” Bokuto shouted going towards you in amazement “Where did you learn how to spike like that?”

“From my dad, I don’t know if you heard of him before but my dad’s name is D/N L/N...?” you say

“D/N L/N, Y/N he is my idol!” he shouted again “I want to be just like him.”

“I think you can, I see a lot of similarites in the way you both play.” you say

“Really! And you’ve seen me play before..?” he asks

“Yeah, I watched some of your games before coming here... you’re really good” you shyly admit.

“Wow.”

You and Bokuto spend the rest of your time, talking about volleyball you’re interests, things you have in common, your likes and dislikes. Talking to Bokuto was refreshing, he didn’t randomly insult you or make snide comments about your weight or your looks. He just genuinely looked happy to be there talking to you, unlike Tsukishima.  

Seeing your change in mood, Bokuto stops talking and asks “are you alright? I forgot to ask earlier, but I saw what happened in the canteen and I hope you’re okay.”  

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just things with me and Tsukishima reached a breaking point, I guess...” you say sniffling a bit talking about it “But it’s fine now I’ve broken up with him and I feel better already.”

“So you’re saying your single...?” he asked blushing a bit

“Yeah I guess I am...” you smile blushing also.  

“Okay great...well I hope this isn’t too forward after everything happened with Tsukki and all but...” he starts “but would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Who me?” you ask as if you weren’t the only other person in the room

“No the volleyball” he responds sarcastically “Of course you Y/N.”  

“Are you sure, cause to be honest Bokuto you’re a really good-looking guy” you say making him smile widely “so I think you need someone to match your level in attractiveness” you look down and his smile drops.

“What do you mean?” he asks before realising all the stuff Tsukishima said about you “Y/N you’re beautiful, your face, your body just you.” you blush at his words “when I first saw you when you were walking past us in the entrance way the first thing I thought and said about you was “Akaashi who is that girl she’s beautiful.””  

“Really?” you ask with disbelief

“Mhm” he nods excitedly “So will you go on a date with me?”  

“I guess so...” you say a bit unsure

“HEY HEY HEY!” he exclaims “I gotta go tell akaashi!” he runs out of the gym in a hurry making you laugh, but he comes back to give you a quick unexpected kiss on the cheek making you smile.

You checked your phone for the time realising that you’ve been with Bokuto for 3 hours and you knew that everyone would be going to sleep now. As you are the manager you slept seperately from the rest of the team but before you went to your sleeping quaters you went to Karasunos.  

“Y/N where have you been? We’ve been worried about you.” asked yammagucchi  

“It’s fine yams don’t worry about it, guys” you say catching everyones attention “I just wanted to apologise to you for my outburst at dinner, it wasn’t my intention to cause a scence.”

“It’s fine Y/N” said sugawara “He definitely deserved it.”

“Yeah as your marvellous senpai we gave him a good telling off” said Tanaka and Nishinoya  making you chuckle.  

“Okay well thanks guys, I’m going to sleep goodnight.”

“Wait Y/N can I speak with you.” asked Tsukishima gesturing to outside the room

“Umm sure” you respond following him into the corridor.

“I just want to say I’m sorry for the things I’ve said and done over the past year and how I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, you don’t deserve that. So, I’m sorry.”  

“I can’t say I can forgive you yet.” you say making Tsukishima look sad “but maybe with effort from you we can become friends possibly?”  

“Just friends?” he said with hope in voice thinking that you could be something more.

“Just friends.” you repeated and confirmed “Besides I have been asked on a date”  

“With who?”  

“None of your business stingyshima” you mock the nickname that Hinata calls him making him scowl and you smile “Goodnight.”

After Bokuto’s confession and Tsukishima’s apology, the rest of the training camp went off without a hitch. In your breaks and lunchtimes, you got to know more about Bokuto and with Kuroo’s help you even got to sneak out to actually go on your date. You sometimes even went to practice with them getting to show off your skills, with Bokuto cheering you on and complimenting you every single time.  

Tsukishima kept his distance for the most part, and kept the snarky comments about you and Bokuto to himself (even though he was dying to say them.) You eventually fully forgave Tsukishima in your 3rd year but you definitely weren’t as close as you used to be. Tsukishima’s comments and actions did affect you for a while however with the help of your loving boyfriend, you were reminded how beautiful you are no matter what weight, shape or height you were.

You and Bokuto stayed together, you made sure to come to every one of his games and when you introduced him to your dad he fainted on sight. Your dad and Bokuto got along, and became very close friends, Bokuto always came to him for advice (especially volleyball advice.) You loved Bokuto and he definitely loved you too.

AN: I hope you liked it, since I didn’t want to make it too similar too the Atsumu insecure one. And I feel like it dragged out a bit but got rushed in the endd....but oh well...

[realcube]

moan in their ear prank

characters ♡ tsukishima, tendō, iwaizumi, kenma & suna

content warning ♡ cursing, kinda crack in iwa’s, suggested punishment, sexual references, fem!reader & nsfw themes - minors dni

kei tsukishima

♡ you meant for it to be a harmless prank but everything you do to him while he is trying to study ends up as harmful towards yourself-

♡ you just had to sneak behind his desk and chair to grab your backpack which was lying on the other side so in the process, you casually leaned in to his ear and produced the most hushed, pornographic moan that you could

♡ his eyes widened as he turned to look at you with an expression which was filled with a mix of disgust, shock and horny. which resembled the look he pulled when you asked him what a Iguanodon is 

♡ it took a moment for him to lubricate his dry throat and process what you just did, but once he thought of a suitable response, he blurted out, ‘what the fuck was that?’

♡ a sly smirk graced your features, you didn’t even spare him a glance as you dipped down to grab your backpack and pull it over your shoulders, ‘nothing.’

♡ once you finally laid eyes on him, you couldn’t help but snort at his stunned look which you rarely got to see as most of the time, it’s extremely hard to catch him off-guard, ‘anyway, i should probably get going. see ya lat--’

♡ though, you couldn’t even turn around before tsukishima grabbed your wrist be glad he was sitting down or else it would’ve been your throat- , ‘you’re not going anywhere.’ then he proceeded to pull you onto his lap

♡ you giggled at how uncharacteristically bold he was being before placing a kiss on his cheek, ‘that was hot, i’ll admit. but i really need to get going - i’m in a bit of a rush.’

♡ his seductive smirk fell into a frown and he was quick to drop his bedroom persona, ‘fine, then. go be a whore somewhere else.’ he said, abruptly pushing you off his lap and focussing his attention back on his work

♡ you gasp, luckily finding your balance after he pushed you then making your way to the door, lingering there for a moment just so you could peer over your shoulder and hum, ‘alright. but you know i’ll always be your whore, kei.’

♡ tsukishima exhaled sharply through his nose, adjusting his glasses as the corner of his lip pulled into a small smile, ‘unfortunately for me, yes.’ 

♡ a few moments passed and you must’ve been admiring his effortless beauty for a bit too long as he suddenly turned to you and snapped, ‘i thought you were in a rush? why are you just standing there?! it’s freaking me out- or are you gonna moan for me again?’ he chuckled at his own teasing but when he saw that you were giving him love-dovey eyes again, a light blush tinted his face as he waved his hand for you to go away, ‘whatever, just get lost. goodbye, i love you & all that stuff.’

satori tendō

♡ he was sitting on the couch playing a game on his phone or sumn and nothing interesting had been happening lately so you took it upon yourself to make something interesting happen

♡ you approached the couch and plopped down next to him, your mouth hovering over his ear for a few moments - your hot breath tickling his skin - before you moaned in the most erotic way possible 

♡ he physically perked up then twisted his neck to look at you with an amused smirk, ‘someone’s horny.’ he commented, his attention quickly returning to his game

♡ you were excited to see his reaction but that was so underwhelming-

♡ your bottom lip jutted out to form a pout as you poked his cheek, ‘yes! aren’t ya gonna do something about it? i always help you when you’re horny!’

♡ ‘i’d love to help you out, princess. but i’m on the 48th level of candy crush. priorities.’

♡ you blinked rapidly, your gaze flickering between the phone screen and your clown of a boyfriend, ‘you know there is like..over eight thousand levels, right?’

♡ he side-eyed you with his eyebrow raised as if to say ‘fr?’ and you simply nodded in response 

♡ the app was soon deleted, ‘fuck that.’

♡ he tossed his phone aside and sighed as he stared into the void since he thought that his entertainment for the next few hours had been lost 

♡ but being the caring girlfriend you are, you were quick to swoop in and tilt his chin up to meet your longing gaze, ‘no, fuck me, satori.’

♡ and he did so gladly

hajime iwaizumi

♡ you did it to him when you saw him just lookin scrumptious asf while he making was pasta for dinner

♡ you slipped your arms around his waist and nuzzled your face into the back of his neck like you usually do when he cooks

♡ but this time, you hopped onto your tip-toes, lightly thrusted against his back and moaned quietly in his ear

♡ to your surprise, instead of getting flustered or mad, he just laughed

♡ though, it wasn’t one of his cute, toothy-grin chortles; but rather an intimidating string of low chuckles - as if he was mocking you 

♡ which he was

♡ you raised a brow, peering over his shoulder to see if he was perhaps amused by something else but unfortunately for you, he was ready to meet your gaze with a deadly glare 

♡ so yeah..you were railed on the spot <3

♡ you may be wondering what happened to your pasta but dw bc he rearranged your guts while adding oregano to that shit-

♡ multi-tasking king ✨👑

♡ like you were bent over the counter, face pressed against the cold marble and you stared directly at the fire of the stove beside you which tickled your face with a warm sensation as iwaizumi filled you up with an even warmer sensation 

♡ one of his hands massaging your waist while the other was stirring the pot 

kenma kuzome

♡ your first mistake was doing it to him while he was streaming 

♡ his camera was broken but the show must go on so it was just his voice + minecraft gameplay + you but the fans don’t need to know that 

♡ since his camera was off, kenma allowed you to sit on his lap as he played but under two conditions: you will not talk or make any noises and you can’t interfere with his game

♡ a small price to pay for some kenma snuggles :3 so ofc you obeyed

♡ well, for the first hour or so, at least

♡ after a while, it got boring just watching him play so you brought out your switch and started playing for yourself but even that became boring quickly too

♡ then the idea hit you 

♡ you were straddling him hence his ear was already by your lips, so it’s not like you’d have to move from your position

♡ plus, his mouth was very close to the mic so if you were quiet enough, the viewers probably wouldn’t hear a thing 

♡ though, you didn’t do too much reasoning, you kinda just acted on urge when you leaned in, pressed your lips together and hummed a faint moan

♡ his eyes widened and he visibly froze - if he had cat ears, they’d jolt upwards 

♡ his gaze immediately landed on the chat to ensure that nobody was going to mention it but his sudden silence probably made it more obvious that something happened

♡ the chat wasn’t flooded with inquiries but there were a few questions as to why he paused and if he was alright; so fortunately for your ass, it appeared as though nobody had heard a thing

♡ kenma hesitantly continued mining, explaining through gritted teeth, ‘oh, sorry, guys. my cat-’ he paused to pull his head back to shoot you a deadly glare accompanied by a snarl, ‘won’t shut the fuck up. shoo, kitty, we can cuddle later.’

♡ he waved his hand and you buggered off before you got caught cackling at the fact he called you ‘kitty’

♡ his chat genuinely believed him and he got a few donations solely bc they found out he’s a cat person

♡ so yeah, if anything you did him a favour but that didn’t stop him from fucking you into next week as soon as the stream ended 

rintarō suna

♡ any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fuck any excuse to fu

♡ you’re just sitting on his lap, cuddling - as y’all do - when the idea occurs to you 

♡ but a mistake you made was that you carried out this prank with no intention to actually do the dirty- you just wanted to see his reaction 

♡ he thought you were just craning your neck out to place a kiss on his cheek but when he hears your melodious moan ring through his head, he turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised 

♡ ‘that’s no way to ask for my dick. try again, but nicely this time .’ he snickered, lightly patting your head, clearly amused by your little pout

♡ honestly, he has such a soft spot for you - like you just existing near him makes him feel all warm inside 💕

♡ furrowing your brows, you whined, ‘i don’t want your cock, anyway. it was just a joke to see ho--’

♡ ‘you’re so horny for me, it’s kinda embarrassing.’

♡ his cocky smirk was simply met by your blank stare

♡ there was a long while of silence between the two of you; which you spent wondering why you were even with him while he was entranced by the thought of your pretty face with his dick half-way down your throat <33

♡ until eventually he broke by whipping off his shirt, lassoed it around your neck and pulled you in so your lips crashed against his, ‘you sure?’