#but I got a full night of sleep last night???

[writingrock]

before he leaves [1]

pairings: prohero! katsuki bakugou, prohero! eijiro kirishima, prohero! denki kaminari x reader (female) summary: your prohero husband is being called away to a two-week long mission. this is how he says goodbye.

notes: fluff, mild suggestive content, established relationship (married), prohero husband, it's just really cute and sweet, I can't say much more.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: for @onlyisaa becuz apparantly putting bakugou in a timeout is unacceptable

Bakugou’s been called in for a mission overseas. It’s rare, but when it happens, you know it’s something serious. The night before, you couldn’t help but fuss over every little detail. You’d double-checked all of his luggage, then triple-checked it. And now you’re pacing around the room with your mind running through everything he might need. You’d gone over his gear so many times that even Bakugou, usually patient with your worry, had enough. 

“Damn it, woman,” he grumbled, grabbing you by the waist and physically dragging you to bed. You’d protested at first, but he ignored you, muttering under his breath, “You need to quit worrying so much, you’re driving me crazy.”

Despite his words, there was a softness in the way he pulled you into his arms, his grip firm but comforting. His frustration was just his way of masking how much he appreciated your care. He knew you worried because you loved him, but that didn’t stop him from teasing you about it. Even as you lay there, you could feel him quietly shaking his head in amusement, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk as he muttered, "My dear wife, always stressing." 

Still, as much as he tried to calm your nerves, there was a part of him that understood. Missions like this didn’t come often, and both of you knew the stakes. And despite the bravado, despite his confidence, Bakugou knew how hard it was for you every time he had to leave.

It’s five in the morning now, and you’re standing by the door, watching as he slips his phone and passport into his pocket. You stifle a yawn, your voice still groggy from sleep. “How long will you be gone again?”

“Two weeks,” he replies gruffly, his eyes meeting yours. You frown at his answer. Two weeks felt like forever without him. Did he really have to go? Your thoughts are full of protest, but you keep them to yourself.

“Are you sure you have everything?” you ask again, for what feels like the hundredth time. Bakugou lets out an exasperated groan, his head tilting back as he closes his eyes in frustration. 

“Woman, for the last time, yes, I’ve got everything,” he grumbles, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. His crimson eyes flick back to you, softening slightly despite the annoyance in his voice. “I’m not a damn rookie.”

You know he’s right, of course. Bakugou’s meticulous when it comes to preparation, probably more so than you are. Still, the thought of him leaving for two whole weeks on a dangerous mission makes your stomach twist in knots. You can’t help it— it’s in your nature to worry. And Bakugou knows that too.

He glances at you, and for a moment, his stern expression softens even more. He steps toward you, dropping his backpack onto the floor and resting his hands on your shoulders. “Hey,” he says, his voice lower now, gentler. “I’ve done this a million times. I’ll be fine.”

You nod, biting your lip, but he can see the lingering concern in your eyes. He sighs, pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around you, strong and warm, and for a moment, you can pretend he’s not about to walk out the door.

“I’ve got everything, alright?” he murmurs against your hair. “Except maybe for one thing.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “What’s that?”

He smirks, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

Does he really have to go?

“Yes, I have to go,” he grumbles, reading your thoughts as if they were spoken aloud. You groan softly and stay wrapped in his embrace. Two weeks without him. His strong, muscular arms, the ones you’ll miss most, tighten around you as you press your face against his broad chest, nuzzling into him with a quiet sigh. You take a deep inhale, filling your lungs with his familiar scent— the mix of his skin and that faint, rugged cologne you love so much. It’s comforting, grounding, and you cling to it, knowing it’ll be a while before you get to experience this again.

“I’ll miss you.” You softly whisper in his chest to which he chuckles. His arms seem to squeeze you a little tighter. 

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, savouring the comfort of your presence. He’d definitely miss his pretty wife.

You look up, meeting his gaze. His crimson eyes, still soft with sleep, linger on you with that private smile he shows only to you. His sharp features seem gentler in the dim morning light, and for a moment, you both just exist in each other’s company.

Wordlessly, the both of you share a deep kiss. An intimate mix of love and longing. His hand cradles your cheek as your arms loop loosely around his neck. Reluctantly, the both of you pull away. You sigh softly from the loss of contact. He keeps you close as he gazes into your eyes, his forehead resting against yours. The beautiful eyes of his lover. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours in one last, tender kiss before stepping back. You pout a little as his arms fall away, but you know he has to leave.

“I love you,” you say, voice tinged with a reluctant acceptance.

“I love you too,” he replies.

You watch as he picks up his luggage and heads to the car. Standing in the doorway, you call out after him, your voice echoing through the quiet morning.

“Text me updates!”

“I will!”

“And when you’re on the plane—”

“I know!”

“And call me when you get to the hotel!”

“Dammit, woman, I know!” he yells back, a mix of exasperation and fondness in his tone.

Exactly an hour and thirty-seven minutes later, your phone buzzes with a message from him. He’s reached the airport. Twenty minutes later, another text arrives to tell you that he’s checked in. 

Two hours pass, and your phone lights up again with a photo of him and his colleagues on the jet. He looks as sharp as ever, though there’s the usual trace of annoyance in his expression. And next to him were sheepish looking Red Riot and ChargeBolt. His message follows right after: They were late. Typical.

You smile at his grumbling, imagining him sitting there, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. Even from thousands of miles away, it’s like he’s right there with you, sharing his usual complaints.

You watch Kirishima stretch in the morning light. His muscles ripples beneath his tanned skin as he works out the tension from his body. He’s seated at the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. The broad back you love so much, facing you. Kirishima’s back is adorned with battle scars, each with their own battle-hardened tale. The scars stretch over his powerful frame and you feel rather tempted to reach out to touch them.

As he stretches his arms out to the sides, twisting slightly to loosen up, your eyes skirt over the fresh scratches running along his skin. Scratches you left from the night before. The memory of it stirs something warm inside you, and you can’t help but let a soft giggle escape your lips.

Upon hearing your fit of giggles, he pauses mid-stretch. Glancing over his shoulder with a knowing smirk on his lips. "What’s so funny?" he teases, his voice still a little raspy from sleep, but there's an unmistakable playfulness in his tone. 

“Just admiring my work.” you comment, referring to the latest addition of scratches on his back. He chuckles softly, replaying the events of last night in his head. It was a rather vigorous night. He needed that time with you, though. With a two-week mission ahead, he already knows how much he’s going to miss you. 

He practically jumps back into bed, sweeping you into his strong, muscular arms as if he can't bear to be away from you for another second. His lips find yours in a tender kiss before he nuzzles into the curve of your neck, planting soft, fluttery kisses along your skin. His lips trace over the bite marks he left behind last night, a reminder of the intimacy. 

For a moment, there's only the sound of your steady breathing and the quiet intimacy of the morning. Then, you break the silence, your voice still soft and hazy from sleep. “Do you have to go?” Your hand gently combs through his messy red hair, and he responds with a low hum of affirmation, his teeth grazing your neck playfully, causing a shiver to run through you. 

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little rough, “but I have to.” 

He rises slightly, hovering over you, his gaze tender as he takes in your sleepy features. His hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as if memorizing every detail. He’s going to miss you—more than he can express.

You're the reason he’s not in the shower yet. The reason he’s still in bed, holding you close instead of gearing up or standing by the door. He’s prolonging every second he has with you, delaying the inevitable because leaving you feels harder than the mission itself. He knows he's late, that he should already be in the shower, getting ready for the mission. His gear should be laid out, his mind focused on the tasks ahead. But here he is, unable to leave your side.

He knows his hero partner will yell at him.

But how could he resist his beautiful wife?

You know he’s running late too, but you don’t care. Shifting up from the bed, you lazily loop your arms around him, pressing your cheek against his warm, broad back. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you settle into him.

“I’ll miss you,” you murmur, breathing in his familiar scent, already knowing you’ll be raiding his closet the moment he’s gone, wrapping yourself in whatever he leaves behind.

“I’ll miss you more,” Kirishima replies, his voice full of warmth. You can’t see the smile on his face, but you feel it in the way his muscles relax under your touch, the way his words come out soft and sincere.

What time is it? You glance at the digital clock on the bedside table. Six in the morning? He's definitely getting yelled at. A quiet chuckle escapes you as you loosen your grip around him.

“It’s six,” you say, a playful warning in your tone.

“I know,” he groans, clearly aware of the trouble he's in.

“He’s going to kill you.”

Kirishima just laughs softly. “I’ll survive—gotta come back to you.” His words make you laugh, and as you release him, he turns to face you with that toothy grin you’ve always loved.

Just as Kirishima leans in to kiss you, his phone rings, cutting the moment short. A loud groan escapes his lips as he checks the caller ID. He glances at you, a dry chuckle slipping out before he answers.

He doesn’t even need to speak— Bakugou’s voice is already blaring through the speaker, barking orders. You can hear it loud and clear, his usual demanding tone carrying through the room. “Get your ass up, Eijiro!” 

Kirishima doesn’t argue, knowing full well Bakugou had already anticipated this. With a quick tap, he ends the call, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand with a sigh. He knew he brought this on himself, but it’s far too early for all that yelling.

“You heard that, right?” Kirishima asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. 

You nod with a soft chuckle, still amused. “Yeah, pretty much. You should clean up,” you hum, playfully nudging him.

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Wanna join me?” 

“Eijiro.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbles, finally getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. His broad figure disappears behind the door, and you roll your eyes fondly, watching him go. As much as he’s procrastinating, you know he’ll eventually get it together—because, at the end of the day, he’s always reliable. Even if he’s late.

Before you know it, Kirishima is already by the door, fully dressed with his suitcase in hand. The image of him shirtless and relaxed on the bed feels like a distant memory as you stand in front of him, sharing one last deep kiss before he leaves. It’s slow and lingering, filled with the kind of warmth that you’ll hold onto while he’s gone. When you finally part, it’s with a soft peck on the lips, and a smile as you watch him step outside.

You wave as he loads his suitcase into the car, and he shoots you that familiar, reassuring grin before the door closes behind him. The car pulls away, and the house feels quieter already.

Two hours pass, and your phone buzzes with a new message. You open it to find an image of a rather grumpy-looking Dynamight, arms crossed and glaring from his seat on the plane. Next to him, Chargebolt is flashing a sheepish grin, holding up a peace sign. You can almost hear Bakugou grumbling under his breath about something ridiculous, probably annoyed with everything around him. 

Kirishima’s caption reads: “Already regretting this trip. Look at these idiots.” 

You laugh, texting him back quickly, already missing him but feeling a little lighter knowing he's surrounded by his friends and trusted co-workers. He’ll be in your arms again soon.

“Five more minutes.” 

Denki mumbles, his voice muffled as he snuggles deeper into your embrace. He’s still in bed, arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging like he’s never going to let go. You let out a soft hum as your fingers comb through his messy blond hair, the strands wild from sleep and so uniquely him. His head rests against your chest, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you look down at him—the pro-hero you love so much, completely content in your arms.

But this is also the very late pro-hero.

“You’re going to be late, Denks,” you murmur, your voice gentle but with a hint of amusement.

He grunts in reply, barely acknowledging your words as he shrugs and buries his face even further into your chest, clearly not bothered by the reality of the situation. “Don’t care,” he mutters, his voice rumbling against your skin. He’s warm, cosy, and in no rush to leave. Being tangled up with you is the only thing that matters in the world right now.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “You say that now, but wait until Bakugou gets on your case for being late again.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Denki just huffs, his arms tightening around you as if to say let him try. You know he’s dreading the inevitable lecture, but right now, he’d rather enjoy every last second with you. And honestly, you’re not complaining.

The two of you lay there peacefully, soaking in the morning light peeking through the windows. You’re already thinking about how much you’ll miss him during his two-week mission. It’s not often he’s called away for that long, but when he is, you understand. That’s the life of a pro-hero. And while the thought of being apart tugs at your heart, you couldn’t be more proud of him for what he does.

“I’ll miss you,” Denki murmurs into your skin, his breath warm against your chest as he looks up at you. His toned arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. His electrifying touch trails in soothing circles across your skin, making you feel that familiar buzz only he can give. He sighs softly, like he’s already dreading the distance. At that moment, you realise just how much you’re going to miss the way he holds you. The warmth of his affection that never fails to make you feel safe.

You smile down at him, your fingers still running through his messy blond hair. “What are you going to miss the most about me?” you ask playfully, your tone light, though a part of you genuinely wonders what his answer will be.

He pauses, his gaze drifting downward to your chest, a playful grin spreading across his face. You immediately catch on, rolling your eyes and swatting him lightly on the head. “Denki!” you scold, but you can’t help laughing as the both of you break into soft chuckles.

He rubs the back of his head, still grinning like a mischievous kid caught in the act. “What? Can you blame me?” he teases, but when he sees the look on your face, he lets out a small sigh, shaking his head as if to reset himself.

“Okay, okay,” he says, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Real answer now.”

Denki’s lips curl into a smile, but his eyes stay soft, thoughtful. “Everything,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “The way you smile at me when I walk through the door, the way you run your fingers through my hair like this…” He trails off, propping himself up on one elbow.

Looking deep into your eyes, his usual playful energy is tempered by the sincerity that only comes out in moments like these. “I’m gonna miss the way you make everything feel... normal. Like, when I’m out there, saving the day and dealing with all the hero stuff, it’s easy to forget who I really am sometimes. But with you,” he pauses, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his thumb brushes over your skin, “you remind me that I’m more than just a pro-hero. You remind me that I’m enough, just as I am. That I’m just Denki Kaminari.”

His words make your heart swell, and for a moment, you forget about the two weeks ahead. All that matters is here and now, with him in your arms, holding onto you like you’re the most important thing in his world.

Just then, his phone rings, interrupting the peaceful moment. As Denki picks it up, you glance at the screen and catch the time—half past six in the morning. Oh, he’s much later than you’d initially thought. It’s not Bakugou calling, but Kirishima instead. You can hear his deep, concerned voice on the other end, “Dude, get up. He’s already pissed.”

Before the words even fully register, Denki’s already scrambling, bolting upright and pulling on his boxers in a flurry of movement. The sudden shift from lazy cuddles to frantic dressing makes you burst out laughing. He’s rushing so fast that he practically trips over his own feet as he throws open the closet doors, rifling through his clothes in search of something to wear.

“How did you know I wasn’t already out the door?” Denki fires back at Kirishima, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder while simultaneously struggling to put his clothes on. His words are defensive, but the slight panic in his voice gives him away. He’s juggling a pair of pants in one hand, sliding them on while trying to pull a shirt over his head with the other, looking every bit the chaotic mess you love.

You can’t help but chuckle at the scene— Denki hopping around, trying to get his pants on without losing grip on the phone or his dignity. "Because if you were, you wouldn’t be half-dressed and panicking right now," you tease, watching as he stumbles into his shoes, still fumbling with his shirt.

Denki flashes you a sheepish grin, clearly caught, but he doesn’t miss a beat as he finally manages to get his pants on properly. “I was about to be out the door,” he mutters into the phone, knowing full well that no one’s buying it.

“Tell him I’m—” Denki starts as he finds his packed luggage. Thank god he packed the night before. 

“Already on your way?” Kirishima cuts in with a laugh. “Yeah, you can tell him that yourself. You know how he gets when we’re late. He’s already chewed me out. Hurry up man or you’re next.”

It’s hard to hold in your laughter at the situation. Denki shoots you a panicked glare as he starts moving out of the bedroom. “I’ll be out in two seconds!” he says into the phone, though both you and Kirishima know that’s a lie. 

You shake your head, still laughing softly, as you follow him out of the bedroom. Amused by the whirlwind that is your husband in a rush. He’s darting around the living room, frantically patting down his pockets to make sure he’s got everything. The sight is pure Denki— chaotic, yet somehow endearing.

As he’s about to bolt out the door, you catch sight of his passport sitting on the kitchen counter. With a smile, you grab it and walk over, holding it out to him just as he turns in circles, looking confused. “Looking for this?” you tease, waving the passport in front of his face.

His eyes light up with relief. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, leaning in for a quick kiss.

Before he can rush off again, you grab his arm and pull him in for one last peck on the cheek. “Be safe, okay? And text me when you land.”

He flashes you that playful, electric grin, eyes twinkling. “Promise. Love you.” Then, with a wink, he’s out the door, shoes half-tied, practically running to avoid Bakugou’s wrath.

You lean against the doorframe, still smiling as you watch him disappear down the street. Even in his frantic state, there’s something about him that makes you fall in love with him all over again, every time.

Two hours later, your phone buzzes with a message from your husband. You unlock it to find several crying emojis, and you can already feel the laughter bubbling up before you even open the image. When you do, you’re greeted with a snapshot of chaos: a very pissed off Dynamight, glaring daggers at Denki, looking ready to lunge at him. Red Riot is in the background, struggling to hold Bakugou back, his arms wrapped around Dynamight in a full bear hug, clearly doing his best to keep things under control.

Denki’s sheepish grin isn’t doing him any favours either. His expression is simply the statement of "I'm in trouble". You stifle a laugh as you text him back. 

a/n: there will be a part two of this with deku, shoto and sero! I only had energy to write these three idiots xP

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

[lionneee]

Perfect Match

Final Part

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: oral sex, fake relationship, talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

Modern!Aemond x Fem!Reader

Part One -> Part Two -> Part Three -> Part Four -> Part Five

You didn’t know.

You would have swore he was just another guy with a perfect life, just good to fuck with.

You thought he was simply trying to rebel, to not follow the mass.

That’s why you chose him.

You never thought he could have been in the same situation as yours.

You leaned your head back to look at his face as he kept sleeping.

You fell asleep in his arms, his cock must have slipped out of you during the night.

It didn’t take long before he started to wake up too.

He slowly opened his eye, looking back at you.

He didn’t talk.

You just kept looking at each other.

It was strange, knowing you both share the same situation.

A family that wanted to be perfect, but was rotten from the inside. You remembered a few words of what his parents were yelling when you came back to his house, the same exact words you heard your own parents yell thousands of times.

When you were younger, you put on your headphones and listened to music at full volume, to muffle the fighting, but as you grew up, you just got used to it.

Aemond took a deep breath and pulled you back in his arms, close, tucking your head under his chin.

You tighterned your arms around his neck, breathing in his scent.

“I don’t want to go out.” You whispered, glancing at the closed door of his room.

“Mh.” You felt his head move, turning to look at the door as well. “We don’t have to.” He said.

You both knew that once past that door, everything would have gone back to how it was.

Fake.

Fake happy families, fake friendship, fake interests.

You felt like you were past that now.

You didn’t want everything to go back as it was.

No, not after how good you felt last night. Not after you finally felt something again.

You unconsciously tightened your arms around Aemond, closing your eyes.

“We can stay here.” You whispered, caressing his back, slipping your hand under his shirt. “We can stay here forever, never go out again.” You felt too good, too comfortable.

“I know. We could.” He slipped his hand in your hair, caressing slowly your head. “We could.” He repeated, as if he was seriously considering the option to hide from the world forever.

In that quiet moment, the world outside seemed so distant, so irrelevant. The tension in both of your lives had built up for years, but here, in this room, it all seemed to melt away. . 

You had chosen him because you thought you knew his type, just another boy looking to push boundaries, to escape boredom. But waking up in his arms now, you realized how wrong you'd been. He was broken just as much as you were, a mirror of your own suffering. Aemond, with all his calculated silence and aloof demeanor, was just as wounded as you.

For the first time, you felt like you weren’t alone in your pain. It wasn't just about what happened between you two last night; it was about the shared understanding of the façade you both wore daily. The world expected you to be perfect—to fit into the molds your families had constructed—but neither of you ever truly did. You both knew that the arguments, the silences, the tensions at home had shaped who you were had led you here, to this bed, to this moment.

Aemond's hand in your hair, his steady breath against your skin, felt like an anchor, holding you both in this fragile peace you’d created together. His fingers combed gently through your strands, and you could tell he was thinking, pondering what you’d said about staying there forever.

“I don’t want to go back,” you whispered again, more to yourself this time. There was a sense of desperation in your voice. You knew the world outside would expect you both to slip back into your roles—the obedient daughter, the dutiful son. But here, with him, you were free. 

“Do you want to stay here?” Aemond asked, but now his voice was softer, almost uncertain. You both knew the fantasy couldn’t last, but for now, it was a comfort. The illusion of safety, the idea that maybe, just maybe, you could escape the weight of your realities.

Your hand on his back felt his muscles tense slightly, as if he, too, was wrestling with the impossibility of it all. He sighed deeply, his chin resting on the top of your head as he held you close. In that shared silence, there was an understanding, a quiet pact. 

But for a little longer, you could pretend. You could hold onto this fleeting moment of peace, knowing that, even if the world outside was fake, what was happening between you now wasn’t. 

You always saw Aemond as a tool to let go. To feel yourself for a moment when you had sex, to stop pretending, but you were still alone.

Alone in your head, in your life, in your experiences.

Now there was someone else.

You leaned your head back again, looking up at him, and he moved as well to stare right back at you.

“I do.” You whispered. You didn’t know what those words did to Aemond, but his lips came down crushing on yours right after them, holding you by the back of your head as he tried to devour your mouth.

“Then I’ll keep you here.” He mumbled against your lips, moving to get on top of you, pressing you down on the bed with his body. “We’ll never go out again. We’ll stay here, and we’ll fuck all day.” He groaned as he wrapped his arms around your body, hugging you close. “I’ll keep you to myself –” He said as he looked down at you, moving his hand on your breast, taking it in his hand and squeezing it, kissing his way down to your other nipple, He was fanning, his breath hit your nipple where he sucked it, making it harden with the fresh feeling. You arched your back, you could feel his cockhardening against your thigh. You put your hand on the back of his head, keeping him close, spurring him to keep sucking your tits.

“Make love to me - “ You whimpered as he squeezed your breast a bit tighter. He raised from your chest, looking down at you as he sat back on his haunches. His eye moved all over your body, then back to your face. You could feel your face hot, probably even red, not from embarrassment because of your nudity, more like because of what you said, because it sounded so… cheesy.

You looked back at him, watching him, searching for any reaction, but his face was stoic. 

Until he moved his hand between his legs, pumping his cock a few times to make sure he was hard enough, then he leaned forward, pushing it slowly inside you, making you moan and lean your head back against his pillow. He didn’t rush it like all the others time, just seeking his pleasure and being done with it.

He kept eye contact as he placed his hand beside your head on the mattress, and he moved slowly, but firmly and deeply.

He knew what he was doing.

“Yeah –” He gasped as he glanced down at your bodies, how they were perfectly fitting before coming back to your face. “I’ll make love to you.“ He whispered as he moved down on his elbows to be closer to your face. 

There it was again. 

That warm feeling in your chest.

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply, taking your time in his mouth, savoring the moment.

You wanted to hold on to that feeling, and never let it go.

You whined in his mouth as he slowly started to thrust harder, keeping his pace, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, under your neck.

He slowly kissed your cheek, then he trailed down to your neck, licking, nibbling at your skin as he groaned.

“W-why does it feel so good – “ He groaned with his voice strained as he nuzzled his face in your neck. You took a deep breath as you felt the sound of his voice doing things to you, making your stomach clench, making your heartbeat faster.

“I don’t know -” You whispered back as you caressed the back of your hair, his thrusts getting needier as he quickened the pace a bit. “But I don’t want it to go away.” You admitted, your words sending a shiver down his body, making him moan and raise his head to look at you.

“Me neither.” He mumbled as he thrusted faster, harder, his face contorting in pure pleasure.

“Oh, yes – Aem - “ You moaned as you felt your orgasm reaching you, your walls squeezing his cock inside you.

“I promise -” He panted. “We’re never fucking leaving this room.” He groaned as he slipped his hand between their bodies, searching for her clit and starting to rub it furiously.

“Please come -” He gasped. “I-I can’t –” He moaned as he spilled before even finishing his sentence, and seeing him so wrecked pushed you along with him.

You both panted as he fell on top of you, both your arms moving around the other, as if to make sure they were still there.

You knew that his promise was impossible to keep.

You had to get out at some point.

But you knew he was promising something else completely.

We’re in this together.

But for now, you guessed he indeed planned on not leaving his room any sooner.

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[bitchfitch]

So context: I have Ridiculously severe misophonia. If I could painlessly deafen myself I would, "all noise is evil" levels of noise sensitivity. It's too the point I can't tolerate being around other people because the sound of breathing swallowing lip smacking etc drive me up the wall and turn me into the joker in .1 seconds.

and it's not like, it's not a "I don't like this" type of misophonia, it's a "these sounds are physically extremely painful as is any volume above the absolute lowest amount possible (I have returned multiple pairs of earbuds for having their minimum setting still be painfully loud)

Ok, that's just my life. those are the cards I've been dealt and I've been making it work.

My shrink recommended concert earbuds. They're like normal wireless earbuds but instead of being electric, they have a small tube and a hole in them that effectively changes the shape of your ear canel when you're wearing them. So they filter noise without reducing volume or quality too badly.

It is fucking Night and day. Volume is still a problem but all the little sounds that were driving me insane and making me be constantly overstimulated are just gone. I can talk to people without immediately wanting to end the conversation. and be in the same room as my fishtank without the filter sounds chasing me off.

[blckbrrybasket]

Run, girl, run

Artrick x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1k

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Art’s grandma comes over after you and Patrick spend the night

Art's grandma was the sweetest woman you'd ever known. She was the salt of the earth, raising Art to bring only kindness and love into the world. He always tried his best to please her, and for the most part he kept his soft heart even after starting college and while keeping Patrick around him. 

You balanced the two boys out. You kept Patrick in check, while also encouraging Art to loosen up a bit and enjoy his life outside of tennis. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, no longer bound by the rules of parent figures, urged on by your support. Most days with the three of you were like a dream, always helping the other to be the best they could be. Not that other people knew.

You all decided to keep your relationship private, not wanting outside judgments or prying eyes.

So no one else was aware, including Art’s grandma. Unfortunately for you, Art's grandma didn't always call before stopping by. She meant well, but her surprise visits meant quick texts from Art to make yourself scarce for the day. You always listened; even when Patrick begged you to mess with Art, you insisted on giving them space.

Maybe that’s why he got some sick satisfaction that Art's grandma had unexpectedly arrived for a visit while he was still half-dressed in Art's bed with you. The past night had been great, fucking until you were on the brink of exhaustion, and yet somehow Patrick was already energetic again in the morning. Art was usually a little slower to getting up, wanting nothing more than to drift back to sleep cradled in your arms.

However, the single knock on his door shattered the peaceful morning's atmosphere. Art groaned into his pillow, barely lifting his head to call out, “What?” A second of silence passed when his grandma’s sweet voice answered, “Art, sweetie? Is that you? I tried to call but I couldn’t wake you up.” She laughed softly, unaware of how fast Art shot out of bed.

He toppled over the side of the mattress, shoulder slamming into the thin carpet. Art hissed in pain, wasting no time when he popped back up. “Guys, you gotta go - now!” he whisper-yelled, shaking you awake. “Honey, are you alright?” Art winced at his grandma’s concerned voice. “I’m alright grandma!” Art replied, eyes darting between you and the door. 

His head swiveled back around to face you as you raised your head, blinking away the last traces of sleep to take in the scene. “Up!” You let out a silent sigh, looking around in confusion. Art was already moving on to scramble, grabbing the clothes off the floor. “What..?” You asked.

Patrick leaned over your bare shoulder with a wicked grin, having been silently awake for a while. “Art’s grandma is here,” he whispered in your ear with cruel amusement. He laughed quietly at Art’s frantic movements, your fingers pinching the bridge of your nose. You sat up with little urgency, the comforter rolling off your body. 

Art’s panic fell into background noise as Patrick slipped his shirt over you, giving you more coverage than just your underwear. A quick kiss silenced his mirth as you took in poor Art's panic. You turned away from Patrick when the sound of Art’s window opening drew you back to the present. 

Art came back into view, whipping around to face you with an expression full of worry. He grabbed your face for a desperate goodbye peck. “I'm so sorry,” Art apologized profusely, knowing there was no other way out than the window. You understood - there wasn't any other option with his grandma right outside the door. 

You shrugged, not caring all that much as you kissed him back, hands smoothing his curls down. “We get it,” Patrick mused. “You’re throwing us out like some hookups, no don’t worry,” he laughed as Art shoved his chest. “We get it!”

Patrick pecked Art’s cheek in an apology, ignoring his eye roll, before helping you to the end of the bed. His hand smoothly slid around your waist to guide you to the window. “Ladies first,” he said ‘gallantly’. Patrick watches you swing a leg over the sill as you snicker. “How chivalrous,” you goad.

Your hands find his, holding tightly as he helps lower you to the ground. It’s a gentle landing, greatly helped by Patrick who goes to follow suit the moment your feet find purchase. His landing is…a lot less graceful, shoved outside by Art. He could only hold his grandma off for so long, excusing that he was taking so long because he was simply getting dressed, deciding to hurry it along.

With a yelp, Patrick practically swan dove from the window, a mess of flailing limbs. He lands in a painful heap to the side of you, groaning. You could only sigh as you lent a hand to pull him upright once more. “Patrick,” you nearly whine in annoyance.

He wasn’t the last to come out though, your clothes raining down on him, adding insult to injury. “Seriously?” Patrick muttered, brushing himself off indignantly. You were all lucky that Art only lived on the first floor. 

Despite the exit, you couldn't help but laugh at Patrick's disheveled state, the window slamming shut after another apology from Art. Your giggles bubbled over as you freed him from the shorts caught on his ear and shoulder.

Patrick only huffed, bundling the clothes unceremoniously.  It was a rough start to the morning and you could see his thinly veiled annoyance. Wanting to lighten the mood, you leaned in for a quick kiss. His furrowed eyebrows softened some as his lips pressed to yours.

“Come on, first one back to my dorm gets head,” you challenged, lips brushing against his. Patrick's eyes lit up at the offer. In an instant, he gripped your hand and took off in a sprint across campus. You laughed with glee as the wind rushed past, any lingering stress melting away by your joint euphoria.

[ch-4-eri]

Hi, I hope you had a good day

Can you write DI Jill x reader smut (age gap plz) that would contain SCISSORING (I'm tired of strapons I love pussies)

(Death island Jill is my favorite if she wont be in my bed on 14th February im gonna quit it)

Love your work!

I LOVE THIS REQUEST THANK YOU SOO MUCH!!

Jill X fem! Reader.

Warnings: mentions of trauma, slight angst, sad Jill, post death island Jill, scissoring, cursing. Smut, porn with plot, vanilla sex lowkey, Jill is much much older and reader is of legal age.

Word count: 1.7k

Guys I can fix her, I swear.

Your mom’s best friend had an almost near death experience at her job, which is almost every mission.

Jill Valentine has been your mom’s best friend for at least a good decade now, they both met at a support group and the friendship took off, surely a trauma bond lasts a lifetime.

As you both picked up the woman from the airport as she decided to unwind and forget about the horrible island she was talking about, in so little detail— knowing Jill for that long, she’s a woman of mystery, doesn’t say much but does say enough for you to grasp the full picture that lacks detail.

You were in the backseat as your mom drove— Jill staring outside the window with her beat up clothes, you’ve no idea if she liked ripped clothes or she’s just too busy to buy new clothes— either way, she was perfect, she smells nice and takes good care of herself, her almost greying hair perfectly trimmed and tucked behind her ear, she cuts her hair like a mother— not that she has kids, or even wants any.. which is fair.

Your eyes were taking in every detail about her, the way she was sitting, her hands calloused and placed atop her thighs as your mother was making conversation, dragging words out of her… barely so.

She turned to look at your mother which caused you to catch a glimpse at her nose, her blue eyes shining as the aging lines around her eyes were more prominent than last time you’ve seen, and before her visit to that island.

Jill felt eyes on her as she caught you staring, turning those to the backseat, giving you a half assed smile adults give to children and looking away, surely you’re no kid— but to Jill? It kind of doesn’t matter.

Deep down you’d take any kind of attention from her.

You always kicked yourself for thinking of that woman that way, Jill seems like the untouchable kind of woman— anyone’s lucky to even talk to her. you’ve no idea why she gives off that sort of energy… maybe because your mother is her only persistent friend outside of her job ones, and even so she barely talks, you’re curious, you wanna know more, and it grows to an attraction or even an obsession on your behalf.

Each time your mother brings her up, you’re tense, the hair on the back of your neck stands and your heart races, not even in fear, Jill was never threatening around you or your mother despite the training and whatever she’s capable of, and you know exactly what she can get away with.

But she’s a good person, and a good friend, and your mother loves her… so do you, except it’s a different kind of love, or maybe lust, a mere curiosity about the woman with decent intentions and morals, seeing it in her eyes as your mother insults a bad driver on the road and Jill just shushes her, she’s perfect, looks innocent even.

And you know she’s not, not even close.

You tossed and turned next to your mother in bed that night as you gave your room to Jill so she can rest on a bed instead of sleeping on the floor or the couch like she usually argues to do so.

And the thought of her sleeping on your bed is driving you crazy, your bed will smell like her, have her fucking perfect face on your pillows.

The overwhelming feeling made you sit up, not even in the mood to sleep at this point as your mind circled around the same thing, you wanted her.

To talk? Let her open up to you? Oh god she’s asleep on your bed.

And it’s like your legs had a mind of their own, you slowly got out of your mom’s bedroom, and closed the door— letting out a breath so heavy you felt your lungs shake.

Your room was right there, the door closed as Jill was right behind it, on your damned bed.

Your shaky hand was placed on the doorknob as you twisted the handle, allowing yourself to be creepy just this once as the desperation was eating you alive, making you feel smaller.

What if she gets mad? You never saw Jill angry, she’s incapable of being disrespectful like that, she’s too perfect, no matter how much she argues she isn’t.

You saw her awake and staring up at the ceiling, her gaze falling on you, and again; Jill would never be angry with you.

“Hi, sorry.. I just wanted something.” You lied, closing the door behind you.

“No worries.” Jill spoke up, the sound of her voice sending chills down your spine, you needed a fucking grip. “You alright?” You ask, not caring about the act of needing something from your bedroom at this point, what you wanted was her, to talk— to fuck— god anything.

“Just thinking.” Jill responds after a moment of silence, knowing she’s trying not to open up like usual, maintaining her secrets but still keeping a firm honesty— no matter how much it lacked, but you were so done with that, you wanted her to talk, say more, cry it out, anything.

You sat on the edge of the bed and faced her and she looked even more beautiful like this, wearing a gray tank top that barely covers anything, your eyes trying their hardest not to slip up, keeping them on hers instead.

“You can talk to me, you know?” You start, maybe just maybe this would get her to talk, it’s late and Jill looked vulnerable, worn out even. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Goddamn it, it was too close.

“Why not?” You found yourself arguing, were you that desperate? Perhaps, you absolutely were. Jill raised an eyebrow at your persistence, straightening back as she tilted her head. “Because, I don’t want to.” Jill replied, her tone firm like she needs you to stop arguing back if that’s what you were trying to do.

You gulped, you wanted to argue, wanted to tell her off, wanted to let her know she’s got you, that you were right here; anything.

“You should go to bed.” Jill ordered, her tone as firm as a moment ago, making you narrow your eyes in challenge.

“I don’t wanna go to bed, I know you wanna talk and I’m not leaving until you do.” You said, not sure what the hell’s gotten into you, and now Jill was starting to look pissed, a sight you haven’t seen before, maybe part of you was relieved you provoked her, maybe she’d say something, do anything.

She doesn’t say anything for now, you know she’s thinking something over in that head of hers, wishing you had a clue what the fuck it was. “Come here.” Jill gestured at you to come closer. Her fingers pointing at the bed, opening the blanket, her long legs exposed to your hungry eyes as you gulped.

“I said come here.” Jill repeats, her voice louder now, like she’s holding back yelling at you in the middle of the night. You obliged, unsure how you did so— all you could think about were her legs.

You came closer to her, crawling on the bed in front of her, watching the way her eyes studied you, her lips parted with anticipation as she grabbed your waist and brought you closer forcefully, feeling how strong her grip was, making you bite on your lip.

“Why are you suddenly so curious about it?” Jill asked, her fingers splaying themselves on your hip, keeping you close in such a strong grip and that’s just one hand.

“What do you want me to tell you?” Jill whispered, her other hand coming up to part your knees for her, gripping your thigh as she picked you up and brought you into her lap, like you weigh nothing. “That I’m so fucking tired; I’m so fucking sick of everything?” She whispered into your ear, her tone strained like she’s holding back the tears and the despair she’s felt for so so long.

“What do you want to hear?” Jill asked, her voice choked with tears. She wanted to cry but she refused to, her leg moving around your hip. Bringing you closer, her mouth placed near your neck. “I want you talk to me about it, maybe I could help—“

“You can’t help me doll.” Jill whispered, her breathing fanning your neck, her hands placed on your waist. “Nobody could.” She adds, positioning your middle on top of hers. Her hips slowly moving against yours, desperate for any kind of friction. “Jill—“ you gasped, catching a hold of her shoulders as you were both bumping against each other.

“Please doll just let me do this.” Jill begged, her hands gripping your hips hard as her clothed pussy was sliding up into yours, the fabric so wet as it bumped against her clit and made her bite into her lip, trying not to scream at the pent up feelings and frustrations, your eyes were glued to pussy, you wanted a taste, to feel her throb in your mouth, your pussy cumming at the friction as Jill moaned, her hands moving your hips with her full strength with both your panties soaked, Jill’s fingers moved in between you two and rubbed at both your clits, her breathing strained as she lifts her fingers up and shoves them into your mouth.

Seeking pleasure from the way you suck on her fingers, her other hand bringing your lower back closer as she chased her high, you had no idea your legs could do that, it was not a common position but it felt fucking amazing with your mouth full of Jill’s fingers and her pretty pussy fucking into your own, “come on— cum inside of me baby.” She urged, bringing your hip closer, pushing your pussy into hers. “Need you to cum inside of me.” Jill pants, too focused on her pretty eyes, mesmerised by her entire being, your noises were soft whimpers and whines as she got wetter at the sound of them.

“Jill—“ you called her name, your muscles spasming as you let out a choked gasp, your cum mixing with Jill’s as you both orgasmed at the same time, your foreheads pressed together and you both panted at the feeling, holding Jill’s shoulders while hers held your hips.

“I better not hear you ask anything else about me,” Jill requests, lifting your hips to get you off of her.

“You know enough doll, now trust me and get some sleep.” She says, slipping out of bed to get you cleaned up before you’d sleep. Leaving you dumbfounded and flustered.

[ninjatrashpanda]

Home (Home is wherever I'm with You)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round Two. Day Seven: "Predict the Future." Read on AO3 here.

“Oh yeah,” Buck exclaimed, handing another freshly washed plate to Tommy to dry. Evenings like this one were becoming more and more common. Buck and Tommy would meet up at Tommy’s house or Buck’s loft after their shifts, cook and eat dinner together, do the dishes together, and then settle down on the couch for a movie Tommy wanted to see, or a documentary to fuel Buck’s latest hyperfixation before heading to bed, either for a round of ‘Was I a good boy, Daddy?’ or to just sleep, depending on how tired they were after work. “My lease runs out in three months. Remind me that I have to talk to my landlord about a new one.”

Tommy nodded, putting the now dry plate on top of the stack next to him. “I can remind you, but have you thought about maybe… I don’t know… not renewing it?” His tone was casual, as it usually was, but Buck could tell that he was nervous from the way the blue of his eyes seemed to waver. For all that Tommy knew how to mask his facial expressions, Buck had quickly learned that his eyes had the tendency to betray him as long as you knew what to look for.

Buck let out a small chuckle, reaching for another plate, one of his eyebrows rising in confusion. “Not renewing?” he echoed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And what? Move into the station full time?”

Tommy laughed, shaking his head. “Not quite what I had in mind. I was thinking more… you know, here. At my place.”

An odd sense of quiet spread through the room for a moment, despite the soft clinking of silverware and the gentle hum of the dishwasher running behind them. It wasn’t an out-of-the-blue proposal, not really. In fact, Buck figured, they’d been tiptoeing around it for weeks, maybe months. Their evenings together were less about convenience and more about the deep comfort they’d found in each other’s company, the quiet routines they’d built together. On nights when their shifts kept them apart, Buck deeply missed and outright craved Tommy, and not just in the sexual sense either. He’d realized a while ago that he really didn’t want to be apart from his boyfriend for any extended amount of time.

“You… You want me to move in with you?”

Tommy stopped drying for a second, focusing on folding the towel in his hands to avoid meeting Buck’s eyes. “Yeah, I do. I mean, we’re here all the time anyway, right? You’ve got a drawer, you’ve got space in the closet, half your stuff’s already in the bathroom. It just makes sense. Plus…" He finally looked up, his expression softening. “I like having you around, Evan. It feels… good. Natural.”

Buck didn’t respond immediately. He reached for the next dish, but instead of handing it over, he stared at the water droplets sliding down the ceramic, his mind working through the unspoken implications. He wasn’t scared, exactly. Living with Tommy had an appeal, a strong one, but it also carried weight. The last time he moved in with a partner had been an absolute disaster (and Buck was mature enough to acknowledge that it wasn’t fully or even mostly on Taylor either) and he really, really didn’t want his relationship with Tommy to go down the same path.

He finally spoke, voice steady but thoughtful. “I like being here with you too, Tommy, of course I do, I love you. It’s just… moving in, it’s a big step. You sure we’re ready for that?”

Tommy’s lips pressed together as he kept playing with his towel, his lower lip caught between his teeth. He didn’t want to push, and Buck knew and appreciated that. This wasn’t about trying to goad Buck into doing something he wasn’t ready for; it was about opening a door that, deep down, he already knew they both wanted to walk through.

“I get that it’s a big step,” Tommy finally said, his voice a touch softer, though still carrying that cadance of sincerity that Buck had become so familiar with. “I’m not trying to pressure you or make you feel like we have to do this now. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and… honestly, I’m ready if you are.” His eyes met Buck’s, unwavering, calm but warm, and full of love. “No rush, no pressure. Just… think about it.”

Buck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, running a hand through his damp curls. There was a knot in his chest that he hadn’t quite figured out how to untangle, a mix of excitement, anxiety, and an old, familiar fear of things falling apart when they seemed to be going too well.

“I do love being here,” Buck admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might somehow jinx what they had. “And you’re right. Half my stuff’s already here. I just…” He paused, words getting caught somewhere between his heart and his throat. “I guess I’m scared, you know? Last time I moved in with someone, I made a whole bunch of mistakes. It was a bad idea, and we rushed into things and it got… messy.”

Tommy nodded, leaning against the counter, his fingers still absently twisting the towel. “I know what happened with Taylor wasn’t easy, Evan. But that was different. You were different. And I’m not her.” He took a step closer, closing the space between them, his hand finding Buck’s in the soapy sink. The warmth of Tommy’s touch grounded him, and for a second, the room felt smaller, quieter. More intimate.

“You’re not,” Buck agreed, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of Tommy’s hand. “And I don’t want to compare what we have to that. I just… I want to make sure we’re doing this for the right reasons. Not because it’s convenient or comfortable, but because it’s what we both really want.”

Tommy tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching Buck’s face as if trying to read the thoughts that Buck was too afraid to say out loud. “If you need to think about it, that’s okay. You know I’m not gonna hold it against you, right?”

Buck let out a small sigh, feeling the weight of Tommy’s words settle over him. He knew Tommy meant every word. There was no hidden agenda, no underlying expectation. He was simply being honest about what he wanted, but ready to let it go if Buck didn’t. And Buck knew that should he say no, Tommy would be disappointed, but nothing would change between them. Tommy would know that Buck declining now wasn’t a never, just a not at this point. And that was what made this relationship so different from all the others. It wasn’t built on fleeting passion or some burning need to be wanted. It was steady, patient, and real.

“I know,” Buck said, his voice a little more solid this time. He turned to look at Tommy, really look at him. The man who had somehow woven himself into the fabric of Buck’s everyday life without either of them really noticing it happening. Tommy was everything Buck never thought he needed. Calm where Buck was impulsive, thoughtful where Buck was driven by instinct. It made Buck feel safer than he had in a long time.

Tommy smiled, a soft, understanding curve of his lips. “There’s no rush, baby,” he said again, letting his hand squeeze Buck’s gently before releasing it and taking the next dish. “We can talk about it whenever you’re ready. Or not talk about it. Whatever works.”

*

“So, what’s bugging you?” Bobby asked as he threw Buck’s apron over to him. They’d just gotten back to the station after a minor fender bender (three mild injuries, no deaths) and after sending everyone off to do their chores, he had quickly roped Buck into making dinner with him. Buck should have known it was a set-up.

“Wow, okay,” he said, grabbing an onion to dice for the bolognese recipe Tommy had gotten from his Nonna, a recipe both Bobby and Buck had gotten obsessed with mastering. “Not even gonna try to butter me up first, huh?”

Bobby chuckled as he started chopping the garlic, his hands moving with the kind of ease that came from years of cooking for the station. “We both know I’m not great at subtlety,” he said, glancing up at Buck with a pointed look. “Besides, I can tell something’s been on your mind. Figured I’d cut to the chase.”

Buck sighed, shaking his head slightly as he focused on the onion in front of him. The sharp smell of it hit him as soon as he sliced into it, and the familiar sting of onion-tears started piecing his eyes. He really should’ve known Bobby would catch on. If not him, who?

“I don’t know, Cap,” Buck said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s kinda dumb, really. I’ve just been... thinking. A lot.”

Bobby didn’t respond right away, just kept working at the garlic, letting Buck find his way to whatever he needed to say. Buck appreciated it. He hated being pushed to answer, and it always made him feel like he had to justify himself for feeling things. Bobby leaving him air to breathe and sort his thoughts, even if he was a little embarrassed that Bobby could read him so readily.

Buck did appreciate it. But it did also make him squirm.

“You know you’re allowed to think about things,” Bobby said after a moment, keeping his tone light. “But sometimes you get stuck in your head, Buck. And I’m not sure that’s where you want to be right now.”

Buck dropped the knife on the cutting board with a sigh, the rhythmic chop-chop of onions halting as he wiped his hands on his apron. “It’s not that,” he muttered, staring down at the half-diced onion, almost willing it to give him answers.

“So what is it?”

Buck looked up, meeting Bobby’s eyes for the first time since the conversation had started. He could feel the weight of Bobby’s concern, genuine and steady, like the man was always a step ahead, trying to make sure everyone around him was okay.

He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. “Tommy asked me to move in with him, and I’m scared.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, pausing his garlic chopping for a second before setting the knife down. “Scared?” His tone was gentle, but Buck could sense the surprise there. “Of moving in with Tommy, or… something else?”

Buck let out a long breath, the air thick with the smell of onions and garlic now, the comforting scents of a familiar meal that should have helped ease his tension but only seemed to magnify the knot twisting in his stomach. He looked down at the onion, pushing it around the board with the edge of his knife. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but it was like they didn’t want to come out. Talking about feelings was never easy for him, especially not the deep, vulnerable ones. But this… this was Bobby. The man who had been there through the worst and somehow still saw him, still believed in him.

“I don’t know,” Buck finally said, the words coming out in a rush, like if he didn’t say them now, they’d never come. “I’m not really scared of moving in, I’m scared of messing it all up like I did with Taylor.”

Bobby gave a small nod and a hum, his expression one of calm realization. He turned and resumed chopping the garlic, the steady sound of the knife hitting the cutting board filling the silence between them. Buck appreciated the way Bobby let the quiet hang, giving him the space to work through his tangled thoughts.

“I know I shouldn’t compare the two,” Buck said, frustration creeping into his voice. He resumed dicing the onion, his movements a little too quick, the sharp knife clattering against the board. “Tommy’s not Taylor and I’m not the same Buck that I was back then, but it’s like I can’t help it. Every time I think about taking the next step with him, my mind goes back to everything I did wrong with Taylor. How I thought I could make it work, despite everything, and then… well, you know how that went.”

Bobby set down his knife again, wiping his hands on a towel as he turned to fully face Buck. His gaze was steady, not judgmental, just patient. “Buck, you can’t beat yourself up over past mistakes forever. You’ve learned from them. That’s what matters.”

Buck frowned, his hands stilling for a moment as he considered Bobby’s words. “Yeah, but what if I haven’t learned enough? What if I mess this up too? Tommy… he’s important to me. Like, really important. I think he could be it, you know? And the last thing I want to do is hurt him or make things awkward between us.”

Bobby gave a small nod, leaning back against the counter as he crossed his arms. “I get that, Buck. Believe me, I do. But relationships aren’t about never making mistakes. They’re about being willing to learn and grow together. From what I’ve seen, you and Tommy are already doing that.”

Buck stared at the sloppy onion dices in front of him, the smell still sharp, mixing with the garlic Bobby had finished. “What if I can’t handle the pressure? I mean, living together is a big deal. I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

Bobby smiled faintly, a hint of warmth in his eyes as he watched Buck. “Do you want to be ready, though?”

Buck blinked. The question caught him off guard. It wasn’t something he had considered, at least not in those terms. Did he want to be ready? Of course he did, didn’t he? But then again, that was part of the problem. He wanted to be perfect, to have it all figured out before he took the leap. The thought of messing up, of failing, of somehow destroying what he and Tommy had, gnawed at him.

“I do,” Buck sighed, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “I just don’t want to screw this up, Bobby. I’ve done that too many times already. What if I’m just not meant for this? What if...”

Bobby held up a hand, stopping him gently but firmly. “Buck, stop.” He shook his head slightly, his tone soft but unwavering. “You’re not broken. You’ve been through a lot, and yeah, you’ve made mistakes. We all have. But that doesn’t mean you’re destined to keep repeating them.”

Buck felt a lump form in his throat. He hated how accurate Bobby’s assessment of him was. How often had he thought like that about himself? That he was somehow defective, doomed to fail at every relationship he tried to make work? It was like a heavy weight tied around his neck, one that seemed to make it harder and harder to keep his head up.

Bobby’s eyes softened as he kept speaking, his voice filled with that steady, reassuring calm Buck had come to rely on. “You’re allowed to be scared, Buck. It means this matters to you. But don’t let that fear keep you from something good. You and Tommy… you’ve got something worth fighting for. And from what I’ve seen, you’re both willing to put in the work.”

Buck swallowed, his eyes burning a little, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the onion or the sudden rush of emotions coursing through his body. He wiped his hands on his apron again, more out of habit than necessity. “I guess I’m just scared I’ll let him down,” he admitted quietly. Bobby had done it once again. He had peeled back every single one of Buck’s worries and doubts and had nailed exactly what the source of his issues was. “He deserves someone who’s... not a mess.”

Bobby shook his head, stepping closer and resting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Buck, you’re not a mess. You’re human. And Tommy knows that. You two are building something together, and that’s not something that happens overnight. It takes time, effort, and yeah, sometimes it takes stumbling a little along the way. But that doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of it.”

Buck looked up at Bobby, his throat tight, the knot in his stomach loosening just a little as he heard the words. He knew Bobby meant them. He could see it in his eyes, could hear it in his voice.

“Do you think I can do this?” Buck asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

Bobby’s smile was small but full of warmth. “I think you already are. You’re asking the right questions, thinking about it the way you should. You care enough to want to get it right. That’s what matters.”

Buck nodded slowly, feeling a little of the tension start to melt away. Bobby’s words had a way of doing that, of making things seem less impossible, less overwhelming. Maybe he didn’t have it all figured out yet, but maybe he didn’t need to. Maybe just wanting to do better, wanting to be there for Tommy, was enough for now.

“Thanks, Cap,” Buck said, his voice steadier now. “I guess I just needed to hear that.”

Bobby gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to the cutting board, picking up his knife and getting back to the garlic. “Anytime, Buck. And hey, when you move in with Tommy, don’t forget to keep practicing this bolognese. I’m counting on you to help me perfect it.”

Buck laughed, a real, genuine laugh that he hadn’t realized he needed. He picked up his knife again, the rhythm of chopping the onion coming more easily now, less frantic. “Deal. But only if you let me make the garlic bread.”

“Done,” Bobby said with a grin. “Now, let’s finish this before everyone starts complaining about being hungry.”

*

“This is the last one,” Tommy called, carrying a box down the stairs to Buck’s former bedroom. Buck, waiting at the base with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his suitcase by his side. “You had a lot less stuff than I expected, baby.”

Buck smiled, though it didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah, it’s… I never really needed much, you know?”

It was true. Buck had, for all intents and purposes, been kind of a minimalist with the loft. He lived at the station half the time anyway, so he had never really tried to accessorize or anything. A few pictures of himself and his family, from Maddie and Bobby to Christopher and Jee-Yun were about the only things that he figured mattered. He loved his family, and being surrounded by them, even if it was only through photographs, always made him feel better.

“You okay?” Tommy asked, putting the box to the ground. And that… was a loaded question. Yes, Buck was okay, technically. He wanted this. He wanted to move in with Tommy, was okay with letting the loft go.

But this had still been his home for the last six years of his life. It was still the end of an era.

“Just… feeling a little nostalgic is all.”

Tommy nodded, an understanding smile making its way to his face. “Makes sense,” he said quietly, running his hand through his messy curls as he leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve been through a lot in this place.”

Buck sighed, his eyes drifting around the room, taking in the bare walls, the empty bookshelves, the absence of the things that had once made this place feel like his. There was a time when this loft had been a refuge, a place to heal after he had hit rock bottom more than once. He’d been here after the ladder truck had crushed his leg, after the tsunami, after the lightning strike. His relationships with Ali and Taylor and Natalia had ended here. He had spent weeks in here all alone when he had filed the lawsuit that had almost destroyed his relationships with the people that mattered most to him.

“Yeah,” he finally said, his voice soft. “A lot happened here.”

And yet, it had also been a sanctuary, a place of endless laughter, and some of the best parts of his life. Getting this place had made him feel like an adult for the first time in his life. He had felt independent in a way not even traveling across the country on his own had made him feel. He and Eddie had made up after the lawsuit in here, he and Christopher had spent countless hours pummeling each other in fighting games, he’d first seen Jee-Yun crawl in here when she had made her way from the door to the couch. He had even delivered his Conner and Kameron’s child in here.

Tommy and him had shared their first kiss here.

Tommy watched him carefully, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “You don’t have to let it all go, you know,” he said, voice gentle. “You can take the memories with you.”

Buck smiled at that, the kind of smile that cracked through the melancholy even though it still didn’t quite fill out his face. “I know. It’s just… this place has seen every part of me, you know? The mess, the mistakes, the times I got back up again. It’s hard to leave that behind.”

“I get it,” Tommy murmured, stepping closer, his hand brushing lightly against Buck’s arm. “And it’s normal. Leaving your old home for a new one is always hard.”

Buck’s gaze softened as he looked at Tommy, grateful for the way he understood, the way he just… got it. That was one of the things that had made Buck fall for him in the first place. Tommy knew how to be present, how to listen without forcing an answer or solution.

“Moving in with you,” Buck said, looking down at the duffel bag and then back at the empty space around him, “it feels right. I just didn’t expect it to feel this… complicated too.”

Tommy chuckled softly and leaned in to kiss Buck’s temple, his arm moving around Buck’s shoulders. “Change always is. Even the good ones. But look, we don’t have to rush anything. If you need more time, I—”

“No,” Buck interrupted, though his tone was gentle. “I’m ready. I really am. I want this—us.” He turned to pull Tommy into a slow, soft kiss, resting his forehead against Tommy’s. “I think I just need a second to say goodbye to this place, you know?”

Tommy squeezed his hand, a warm smile lighting up his face. “Take all the time you need.”

Buck turned back toward the loft, his heart heavy but steady, while Tommy went to grab the box and stand in the doorway. Buck walked slowly around the room, letting his fingers graze the walls, each touch bringing back fragments of the life he’d lived here. The first time he’d stood in the kitchen, fresh from a shift, feeling like he was finally becoming the man he wanted to be. The nights he’d stayed awake, trying not to let his loneliness get to him, wondering if he’d ever be enough for anyone. The day Maddie had come home after getting treated for her PPD. The moment Eddie had told him that Chris thought of him as a hero, a title Buck never felt like he deserved but wore like armor anyway.

He stepped out onto the balcony, the Los Angeles skyline glowing with the soft hues of the setting sun. The view had always been one of his favorite parts of this place. It reminded him that, no matter how chaotic life got, the world kept turning, kept moving. And so did he.

With a deep breath, Buck finally allowed t’he tears that had built behind his lids to flow free, feeling the weight of six years lift from his shoulders. This place had been his sanctuary, his shelter. But now, he realized, it had also been his cocoon. It had kept him safe while he grew, while he healed. But he wasn’t the same man who had first walked through that door all those years ago. He was ready to spread his wings and step into something new.

Something with Tommy.

He stepped back in, his heart full but at peace, and caught Tommy’s eye. “I think I’m good now,” he said softly, smiling—a real, genuine smile this time.

Tommy grinned, his eyes twinkling with that infectious warmth that had always made Buck feel grounded. “Good. Because I was starting to think I’d have to carry all your boxes back up.”

Buck laughed, the sound light and free, cutting through the bittersweet air. “You’re hilarious. But no, I won’t strain your back like that, old man.”

“Oh, okay. I see how it is!” Tommy shot back, his expression playful as Buck picked up his suitcase and duffel bag. “Come on, let’s get out of here before you change your mind.”

Tommy grabbed the last box, and together, they headed for the door. Just before stepping through, Buck paused one last time, looking back over his shoulder at the loft. He let the memories settle in his mind, like pictures into a photo album.

“Goodbye,” he whispered, not to the loft itself, but to the man he used to be inside it. Then, he turned to join Tommy in the hallway. “Let’s go home.”

[gguk-n]

Chapter 5- Epilogue

Accelerating Emotions (Oscar Piastri x Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N and Oscar are just happy being together. They enjoyed the time they got to spend together.

Over all just fluff.

Y/N and Oscar enjoyed the time between the end of the previous season and the start of the next. Both of them would follow each other around like lost puppies through out the day. Just as the holidays were coming to an end for Y/N, Oscar too had to leave for pre-season training, reluctantly. They would call each other and sometimes Y/N would send him packages and Oscar would send her packages and then the two of them would open them up on video calls.

Oscar really wanted her to come to the first race of the season, which was not possible at all due to her academic year being in full swing. Luckily, she didn't particularly need time off to be at his home race. The Australian GP couldn't come any sooner. Oscar did fly in earlier then usual. Y/N was there to pick him up at the airport since he did fly in super late. "You have a thing for making sure I don't get any sleep" she commented as Oscar climbed into the passenger seat. "I have other ways of keeping you up" he laughed. She just shook her head as she started driving.

They spent the next few days together, Oscar was on a strict diet; so Y/N found great joy in being able to cook for him and having at home dates. They would watch some silly shows and lay awake wrapped in each others arms. "I might have done some shopping" she said randomly. "Doesn't sound like it's a good thing" he said skeptically. "It is a good thing. I bought a dress in your god awful team colour and surprisingly I look good in it. So, I'll be wearing that with a 81 head band to the race." she said proudly. "Where did you get the 81 head band from?" he chuckled. "I made it myself, you'll see" she said kissing his lips. "If this is your way of bribing me, I'll take more" he said. "I'm not bribing you, I did a quiz and my love language is physical touch apparently" she said. "What's mine?" he asked. "Gift giving and physical touch, I think" she said. "I will not be denying that" he smiled.

Y/N accompanied him on quali day, the pair walked hand in hand to the paddock. The camera flashing rapidly to catch their moment together, Y/N was wearing Oscar's papaya jersey, a big smile on her face as she walked in. Oscar found great joy in dragging Y/N around with him. He would introduce her to his team with the biggest smile they had seen on Oscar. Lando had stopped teasing them, since Oscar started to enjoy it too much much to his dismay.

Oscar qualified P6, Y/N was cheering for him as always. It was a warm feeling racing in his home and having all the people that love and support him there. Y/N was wearing an papaya dress with the 81 head band that she knit. The fans loved her outfit and wanted their own 81 headbands. The race was quite eventful, Oscar finished just out of the podium but Y/N celebrated his finish like it was a podium. They spent the night together with their family, laughing and talking about random things and reliving old memories of all the times each of them found out Oscar had a crush on Y/N. It was a good time at Oscar's expense. "Last year, I wouldn't have thought I would get just outside of a podium in my home race or you for that matter" he whispered with his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood there watching everyone. "Well, you've improved." she smiled pecking his cheek. "I love these improvements" he smiled. "Can't wait to watch you win a race honestly" she stated. "I love you babe" he whispered. "I love you too, Osc." she whispered back. "I'm gonna have to ask Lando to stop calling me Osc, it feels weird" he stated. "He says it with love. It's cute honestly. I would also like to ask you to look at me with the same amount of love you look at Lando with" she chuckled. "I look at you with love, Lando it's shock" he said shaking his head.

Oscar's birthday was the day after the Japanese GP. They couldn't spend it together so Y/N sent him a package as a little gift; just some stuff from home and the customary birthday wishes. Oscar wasn't very happy about spending his birthday alone this year, but it's the nature of the sport. He wasn't able to fly in for her birthday either since he had another race weekend. So, they FaceTimed each other with a small cake and blew out candles while on call. Y/N had gotten him a wallet with their initials engraved on it which Oscar carried around with great pride. Y/N had gotten a necklace with an O. You could pass that necklace off as anything but she found a lot of happiness in telling anyone who asked that it was her boyfriend's initial.

During her time off she would fly to Oscar, they would spend all their time together either cuddling in the hotel room or exploring the city. Oscar would love to have her at race weekends but they never coincided with her time off. The fans had started to notice him hanging out with the girl who had the 81 headband and deduced that they were dating as if Oscar wasn't obvious enough.

Oscar winning his first Formula One race was a big thing but sadly Y/N wasn't there to celebrate with him. Instead he flew back to Australia even if only for a few days before he would have to fly back for the last race before the summer break. Back home, he was met with a lot of celebrations. Y/N spent her whole time showering Oscar in praises after his first win. Oscar couldn't help but bask in her praises forgetting the ordeal following his first win.

Y/N was very observant, she noticed when Oscar would wince or hiss quietly when some one would hug him or touch him. He made a conscious effort not to slip up when Y/N was touching him but she caught on and cornered him just like the time Oscar caught her topless when they were teens. "Piastri what's wrong?" she asked, voice laced with concern. "Nothing right now, but you look very hot cornering me. We might have a problem now" he said placing his hands on her waist and leaning closer. She took his hands off her waist and placed them on either side of him, effectively pinning him. "Babe, my mum's 2 feet away" he whispered. "I know, something's wrong and you won't tell me" she questioned further. "Nothing's wrong" Oscar replied trying to lighten the mood but Y/N wasn't buying it. He could easily over power her but he liked the situation he was in. "You've been hissing and wincing in pain since you've been back. I know you're hurt. Tell me where or I will not be kissing or touching you for the foreseeable future." she stated. Oscar knew he couldn't lie to her, she would figure it out, sooner or later. "I fractured my rib before the race" he said. "What" she almost screamed, carefully placing his hands down. "How? You raced? Why didn't you tell me or us?" she barraged him with questions. "It just happened but the medical team cleared me. I'm good and with a bit of rest I'll be as good as new" he said. "What rest? You plan on racing the next race. You didn't tell anyone. It's like you don't need us" she lamented. "I'm perfectly fine now. Don't worry about me" he said cupping her cheeks and pressing a kiss. "Well, it's my second nature to worry, you can't stop me" she announced. "I won't. I love it when you worry about me actually" he gloated. "You will be punished. I'm not touching you until you're fully healed. I heard rib fractures hurt a lot. So, you're on bed rest while you're in Melbourne" she stated. "What? NO! You can't deprive me" he groaned. "I can and I will. Just be grateful I'm not announcing this to the whole family" she tsked and walked away.

Oscar was babied and made to rest by Y/N. She found a way to avoid telling everyone what happened until Oscar would himself. Which he did after the summer break started. His parents were disappointed him but more concerned. Y/N apologised to hiding it since she didn't want to worry them as well.

They spent the summer break lounging around their house or going out to eat. They would catch up on movies and trying out new foods. Oscar had been thinking, he thought about it quite a lot especially when they would be grocery shopping together or he would see her interact with kids or when she would joke with his family or when she would fret over him; that he was ready. He was ready to settle down if it was with her. He wanted everything; a family, a house, kids, the whole nine yards. Oscar might have jumped the gun and bought a ring. He couldn't wait; these could be place holders till she picked one out she liked. He had gotten them his and her bands; they looked a lot like wedding bands. He carried those around for a while, not knowing when to ask and that's how the summer break ended and he would be back racing.

They spent their first anniversary at home while Y/N cooked for Oscar and make him rest. He was on a sex ban because of the rib fracture. No matter how much he tried to reason with her, Y/N wasn't about to budge. Oscar was like a piece of glass and Y/N was too scared to touch him lest she hurt him. Oscar got them his and her matching watches since he wasn't sure he had the guts to propose to her. She got him matching sweaters that she knit and a belt with her initials. "Are you trying to brand me?" he asked looking at the sweater with a big first initial of his girlfriend and the belt too. "I would ask you to get my name tattooed but let's wait for the second anniversary before be pull that" she laughed. "Plus people should know who you belong too" she said. "I think they know, I only talk about cars and you" he said solemnly. "I'm honoured that Mr Piastri talks about something other than cars" she smiled. "I can talk about you all the time. Cars aren't my only interest" he quipped. "Glad to know I don't have to compete with your love for cars like when you were 4" she chuckled. "Cars could never compete with you" he whispered snaking his arms around her waist trying to pull her onto his lap. She carefully pushed him away. "Nope. I'm not falling for this. You are on strict bed rest" she reprimanded. Oscar groaned "Ugh, this stupid rib." "I'm all yours once you're healed" she said pecking his cheeks and getting up to clean up the mess of wrappers they made.

Y/N finally had time off and she was able to fly to Azerbaijan. She had the two weeks off from school and spending time with Oscar was the only thing on her mind. Who would've thought? Okay, Y/N did think. She had maybe hoped Oscar would win since he was starting P2 in the race. Until the very end, you couldn't say much. It was during the last laps; Y/N felt it; watching Oscar zip past, that he might win and he did. She was crying; she couldn't be there for his first win but she was there now. Oscar got out of the car and rushed to his family. He hugged his mother and turned his attention to Y/N who had tried to fix her make up before she came since she had been crying. "I'm so happy you're here to see me win" he whispered in her embrace. "I'm happy I get to share this with you" Oscar pulled away and kissed her and Y/N melted right into his lips. She squished his cheeks deepening the kiss. They pulled away breathless, "I love you so much" he whispered. "I love you too Oscar" she whispered back. "Marry me" he blurted out. "You're not proposing right now, like this" she had started to cry. "Go on, we'll talk later" she said quietly.

Oscar was back in the drivers room with Y/N sat looking solemn. "Sorry about that. I knew this wasn't a good idea" Oscar lamented. "No no, babe. I meant it like you can't be proposing to me in that moment since it was your moment. It was yours and only yours" she explained. "It was ours baby, I've been thinking and I wanna marry you" he stated. "Osc, sweetheart, we're so young. We started dating just over a year ago." she began. "I've loved you for more than half my life. I think I know if I want to marry you or not" he interrupted. "As much as I hate to admit it, I would marry you right now, if I could" she chuckled. "Yay" he laughed. He opened up the red velvet box he had and 2 identical rings were shining back at them. "These look like wedding bands" she couldn't help but laugh. "Maybe" he stared at the box and than her. "You can pick whatever ring you would like. I didn't want to choose something you wouldn't like" he explained. "You know what I like" she said. "I'm not that confident" he said. "Well, I love you and anything you pick, I would love that too" she smiled at him. Oscar felt like he would turn into mush.

At the Singapore GP, the two of them were spotted with their rings. The media and fans were speculating whether they had a shot gun wedding. Oscar found great joy in calling Y/N, Mrs Piastri. But later, his mum did tell everyone that they hadn't indeed gotten married and those were engagement rings because her son was a big sap.

Oscar stared at their hands as they lay in bed entangled in each other, her hand on his chest and his wrapped around her. If you told 13 year old Oscar that he would be laying in bed with his crush he would've laughed at you, but 23 year old Oscar was lying in bed with the love of his life. Oscar wouldn't have it any other way. If you had told Y/N that the annoyingly quite and mature kid her brother befriended would be the man she planned on marrying, she would call you delusional but right now everything felt like a blissful dream that she would like to never wake up from. The two of them were happy in each others arms, away from the world.

[lost-in-fandoms]

https://www.tumblr.com/lost-in-fandoms/762168056269144064/thinking-about-streamer-max-who-lowkey-does?source=share

Omg. Omg!!!! Streamer Max my beloved! What does Daniel do when he stumbles onto Max's stream? I'm just imagining him clicking on a random link or something and suddenly bam he's got a face full of this pretty streamer with slutty short shorts!

(Anyway love your work and hope you have a great day!! 🥰)

You are so sweet I hope you have a great day too!!

Some slutty streamer Max to try and have something good to end the day with

Daniel sighs, rolling over towards the bedside table and grabbing his phone, checking the time for what feels like the twentieth time that night already.

4:42 am.

Just twenty minutes after the last time he checked.

He sighs again, sitting up slightly to drink some water, resigned to the fact that he'll probably won't get any sleep tonight either. If he's lucky, he'll get a couple hours when the sun is rising and then sneak a nap in somewhere during the afternoon.

He knows that jet lag is not helping, having landed in Perth from Los Angeles just two days ago, but he's been dealing with this insomnia for way too long to lie to himself any further. Sleep simply isn't coming.

He's tried most things already tonight, from the relaxing herbal tea his mom had recommended, to the white noise machine, to the podcasts, to the meditation. Nothing has worked.

He grabs his phone again, going through some of his messages and emails before clicking on the twitch app.

It's something new he's been trying the past couple of weeks, doesn't even remember who recommended it to him, and so far it hasn't worked, but at this point into the night he's willing to do anything. Whoever it was who first told him about it had been speaking about ASMR streams and music channels, but Daniel has been mostly browsing around, not really finding anything that catches his eye.

Tonight, he moves past the few streams he has followed already, scrolling through the live channels without looking for anything in particular, until something catches his eyes.

At first glance the stream doesn't look like anything special, even if the game itself looks cute, just a guy in a dimly lit room in a corner of the screen, mouth moving to say words Daniel can't hear yet, but.

The guy is sitting on a gaming chair, leaning back slightly in a way that Daniel doubts is fully comfortable, legs splayed, his short shorts bunched up to leave milky skin on display. He's using both hands to play, but just as Daniel is watching, slightly transfixed, he laughs, probably at something in chat, and brings one hand away to lightly scratch at his neck and then down to his leg, pulling it more to the side, fingers grazing on his crotch.

Daniel swallows.

He taps on the screen, opening the stream without really thinking about it, finally letting the guy's voice play through the speakers.

"...just for 40 more minutes. No, you cannot bribe me for one hour, Kiks, not even if you use the cute emote. I have work."

He has an accent, a lisp that comes out when he says Kiks, bright blue eyes and a lovely smile. And a hand that is still on his dick.

Daniel's eyes fall on the name of the stream, Farming some slimes, which tells him nothing, and the name of the game, Slime Rancher 2, which tells him that at least he's not in some sort of secret porn category, before going back to the camera square.

The guy is now playing again, hands just barely in view from where they're wrapped around the controller, and Daniel takes a breath, trying to gather his bearings after feeling like he's just been hit over the head with an hammer.

The chat is scrolling by slowly, his 236 viewers obviously not all interested in talking, so Daniel has no problem catching the last few messages. It's mostly people complaining about the guy leaving early, the person he was talking to earlier, KicksforKiks24, offering to gift some subs if he stays longer, and Daniel wonders if he is the only one noticing the absolutely sinful thighs on display here.

Nightnectior: What if I ask really nicely Max?

The new message pops up in chat, and Daniel watches as the streamer, Max apparently, laughs again, shaking his head.

"No, Night, I told you, I have things to do early in the morning."

Okay, maybe Daniel is the weird one here. Maybe he is the only one thinking about Max's legs and reading his posture wrong. Maybe he is the only perv in this chat, and everyone else is absolutely normal.

Severson: would love to see you do /things/ in the morning

Daniel chokes on his spit.

He's expecting Max to ignore it, or to delete the message, or to have any kind of reasonable reaction, but Max.

Max grins.

He blinks slowly, shifting on the chair almost casually, bringing one foot up to rest on the seat, shorts bunching up so much Daniel can see a hint of pubes, the outline of his balls and dick now fully visible, and then sliding a hand down his thigh to rest on his lower belly, fingers grazing his crotch again.

"Would you?" he asks, voice low.

Daniel has forgotten what Max's asking about. He's forgotten about anything that isn't the desire of sinking his teeth in the meat of his thigh, to have them wrapped around his head, and the knowledge that his dick is half hard already.

"I don't think that's how it works," Max says, in response to a message Daniel doesn't even care to look at right now. He's barely aware of the chat going faster now, more messages popping up in a rapid succession.

"Oh look at all of you, coming out to play."

Max's hand slides lower, now fully on his dick, as he giggles, a sliver of his stomach exposed too. Daniel's heart is beating in his ears. He doesn't know what's happening.

There's a new sound on the stream, something that startles Daniel out of his daze enough to realise someone has just donated €50 just to call Max a pretty boy.

Daniel wonders how hard it is to figure out how donations work. How much he can donate without his bank blocking his account. How much it would take for Max to do something.

He swallows, feeling slightly insane.

Max's fingers squeeze once.

Daniel's breath stutters in his chest, his hands twitching, wanting to touch himself too but so transfixed he doesn't dare moving.

And then Max shifts, grabbing the controller again and sitting up a bit, shirt falling back into place. Even if the outline of his dick is still clearly visible, something in the spell breaks, letting Daniel breathe again.

He can still feel his heart rabbiting in his chest, his mouth dry. His dick is hard under the sheets.

With a trembling finger, Daniel presses follow.

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 8: One Could Get Used to This

Wordcount: 1.5K

~~~~

No-one comes to drag Virgil out of bed. He wakes on his own the next morning and for a few moments contemplates getting out of bed, but then he rolls over and goes back to sleep. It’s his day off, he doesn’t have any plans, and he is cozy.

He wakes again around noon, and wanders downstairs. There’s no-one in the sitting room, but he finds Patton in the dining room, curled up in the armchair with a book.

“Good morning!” Patton greets cheerfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “You?”

Patton’s eyes crinkle up in a pleased smile. “I did, yes, thank you,” he says. 

Virgil fidgets, just a little, and he glances back toward the door. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Hm,” Patton says thoughtfully, tapping the book against his chin. “Logan’s in his office, and last I saw him, Roman was still asleep, poor dear.” He chuckles. “You two sure were up real late last night. And Remus and Janus aren’t here right now, but they were going to come to dinner, so they should be arriving in a few hours.” He pauses, thinking. “I don’t think anyone else was planning to be here today, but I might have forgotten something, or they might’ve forgotten to mention it. That happens sometimes.”

“Must make meal planning difficult,” Virgil says.

“It can,” Patton agrees. “But I like to make sure we have plenty of leftovers anyway, so a surprise guest or two isn’t very hard to accommodate.” He smiles gently at Virgil. “Are you hungry? Would you like some breakfast?”

“If you’re offering,” Virgil says, because they have been incredibly hospitable to him so far, but he doesn’t want to presume anything.

“Oh of course,” Patton says, setting his book down. “I hate to leave anyone hungry when there’s food in the house. What would you like? Are you in the mood for a breakfast breakfast, or something more lunchy?”

Virgil hesitates. “I don’t want to make you cook something just for me,” he says.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Patton reassures him. “I like cooking. But we do have leftovers in the fridge if you would like something quicker.”

Virgil nods a little. “What are my options?”

“Well, we’ve still got plenty of what we had last night, of course,” Patton says consideringly, getting up and heading towards the kitchen. Virgil follows. “And I made a fresh batch of boiled eggs this morning.” He opens the fridge and peers inside, then waves Virgil over. “Take a look, anything look appetizing?”

Virgil joins Patton in front of the fridge and looks inside. ‘Plenty of leftovers’ may have been an understatement. The fridge is quite full, mostly of containers. There’s no way Virgil can possibly see all the options without taking most of the contents out to see what’s behind them, and he is not about to do that.

Trying to be quick, Virgil scans the food visible through the sides of the containers. He sees white rice, mixed vegetables, something brown that’s probably gravy, mashed potatoes, a couple drumsticks… 

He knows, reasonably, that everything in this fridge is probably very good. He is also sure that if he was sat down and served any of these choices, he would eat it without complaint and be pleased with it. But just now, looking at the leftover containers, his stomach and taste buds rebel, and nothing looks appealing. 

“I don’t know,” Virgil says. It’s not that he isn’t hungry. His stomach is very helpfully informing him that it is currently empty. It is just also telling him, simultaneously, that there isn’t a single food in the entire world that will satisfy, and unfortunately it has annexed his tongue to its side. His brain, meanwhile, is yelling that he’s taking too long to decide, and he needs to hurry up and pick something before Patton gets upset at him for letting all the cold out of the fridge.

Patton makes a sympathetic sound. “Too many options to choose between?” he says softly. “Would you like me to prepare you a plate?”

Virgil’s very bones go limp. “Yes please,” he says weakly, glad to have the decision taken out of his hands.

Patton rests his hand gently on Virgil’s arm. “Why don’t you go wait in the comfy chair, and I’ll bring you some food in a minute,” he suggests gently.

“Okay,” Virgil says, and goes. Just as he settles, Patton appears in the doorway again with an empty plate in his hands.

“You don’t have any dietary restrictions, do you?” he asks. “I know it’s a bit late to be asking, but…”

“No, I’ll eat anything,” Virgil says, fondness rising in his chest. “Thanks for checking.”

“You’re welcome,” Patton says, and goes back into the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later, the plate now laden with a large slice of lasagna. “Do you want to come eat at the table, or over there?” he asks.

“Table, definitely,” Virgil says, moving. Much less risk of spilling red tomato sauce on their furniture that way, plus he’d rather not try to balance a hot plate on his lap right now. He sits, and Patton places the plate in front of him. Virgil’s eyes go wide. In addition to the lasagna, there’s a slice of home-baked bread with butter and jam, and a small heap of peas and corn. “Just how big do you think my appetite is?”

Patton chuckles. “Sorry,” he says. “Force of habit. Roman would clean that plate and then ask for seconds, especially after sleeping through breakfast.”

“I can believe it,” Virgil says with a laugh.

Patton pats his shoulder, then moves away. “If it’s too much, we can put some of it back,” he says as he reclaims the armchair. “You don’t have to eat all of it.”

He’s certainly going to give it his best go, Virgil’s stomach informs him seriously. His tongue agrees.

Virgil starts with a large bite of bread. It’s no longer fresh-baked, but Patton had re-warmed it. Toasted, maybe? There’s a bit of crunch to it, though it’s still pleasantly soft, not hard as a rock like most toast.

Roman makes an appearance when Virgil’s about halfway through his meal, wearing only a white tank top and a pair of red shorts. Virgil isn’t sure if they’re loose boxer shorts or thin actual shorts, but he’s not about to stare at Roman’s crotch and/or ass long enough to figure it out, and he’s certainly not about to ask.

Probably they’re actual shorts. Roman has so far struck him as having somewhat more decorum than Remus, and probably wouldn’t walk around in just his underwear with a random person in his house.

Probably.

“Ooh, that looks delicious, I want some of that, is there more?” Roman says in greeting, completely oblivious to Virgil’s inner musings.

“There’s one piece of lasagna left, and plenty of the rest,” Patton tells him, and Roman strides into the kitchen.

He returns after a few minutes with a lunch identical to Virgil’s, except that the heap of vegetables is taller, and he has a second, already half-eaten slice of bread in his hand. Also his jam is a different color. Roman plonks himself down in the chair diagonally adjacent to Virgil and grins at him. “Good morning,” he says cheerfully. “I see you did not flee into the night like Cinderella.”

“If I was going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, it would have happened well before Patton came to tell us to go to bed,” Virgil points out.

“True,” Roman agrees. He turns and points his fork at Patton. “Patty Cake, if he ever turns into a pumpkin, don’t bake him into a pie,” he says.

Patton laughs. “How many times must I promise not to eat him?” he asks.

“Once more, it seems,” Virgil says. “For what it’s worth, I believed you the first time.”

Patton’s eyes twinkle. “I appreciate that.”

“Did you sleep well?” Roman asks Virgil. Virgil nods. As if he could have slept poorly, in that bed. And it was certainly nice to get to sleep in late. “Good, good. After breakfast, do you wanna watch more tv?”

Virgil laughs. “You’re insatiable,” he says.

“We left off on a cliffhanger!” Roman defends. “And I, for one, was thoroughly enjoying myself up until the point at which we were reminded of the cruel passage of time and the physical needs of our frail human bodies.”

“I was having fun too,” Virgil agrees. And, well, he doesn’t have any better plans for his afternoon off. It’ll be fun. He’ll just have to remember to actually bike home before it gets dark again.

“Excellent!” Roman says, clearly taking that as a yes, and tucks into his meal with gusto.

~~~~

Chapter 9: Come for the Bike, Stay for the Game Night - WIP

may have a brief break in my regularly scheduled chapter posting, as I've caught up to myself and am still writing chapter 9. So, we'll see if it's ready next week, but likely not.

[chevelleneech]

Are You Sure? - Ep8

Here are my thoughts now that I finally watched the episode (I was at work all day, anon, lol).

I honestly don’t have too too many, because my main takeaway was that they seemed to have truly needed these trips together. They knew by Jeju they’d be enlisting together, so I feel like any thoughts I had about the trips being a sort of last hurrah before potentially being separated go out the window.

They knew they’d be together, so barring them being romantically involved in some way… I kind of don’t get the point of the series.

Had this been a special involving other members, then it being work related would make sense. Had this been more like the Jeju episodes where they weren’t as laid back, I’d get it, but it wasn’t. Five out of eight episodes focused on them not doing much else other than simply spending time together. Sight seeing and going out to eat, with a sprinkle of activities. We saw them shopping for food and driving more than anything else, but for some reason they both still say the whole experience and filming of the series was the best thing they’ve gotten to do.

That to me, and I say this with full honesty, does not make sense to me, if they’re strictly platonic. I don’t know, episode eight sees them putting a certain level of importance on these trips that many antis wanted to rip away, and surely they knew that. They know what people think about them in their own fandom, both for the better and the worse, and they didn’t care. Which, good for them.

Moving away from my confusion in an attempt to find another explanation, I also think their joint melancholy about having to leave triggered the dropping of their guards a little bit. Add that to them drinking some, and their whole reaction moment felt almost intrusive to see, lol. They kept gravitating toward each other the entire time, only for the editors to skip to them sitting back up with more space between them. Nevermind the footsie and Jimin walking by the room they were shown going to bed in, when he said he was going to wake JK up.

So unless Jungkook was already up and in the shower or something, which they conveniently didn’t mention despite doing it every other time… they either didn’t sleep in the room with the camera or JK moved rooms. But again, given they gave us updates about every other sleeping arrangement or change, why would their last night be different if nothing happened? (By “nothing” I genuinely mean I think they moved to a different room without a camera, likely to talk or simply be closer. Not necessarily sex, because again, I don’t see them going there with a house full of staff.)

Pure speculation of course, lol, but yeah. Those moments made me feel a little like, okay, they did this with the intent of making memories. They may have wanted to cement who they are to each other in this moment, because no matter how optimistic they were that things wouldn’t change and their friendship would be solid, no one can predict the future.

Couple that with them both starting Ep1 saying they hadn’t seen each other and Jimin not being sure (no pun intended) the trip was a good idea in the first place, to them ending Ep8 saying they didn’t want it to be over and spent the last few days happy… it’s a big deal, I think. Especially with how many times they spent their last day in Sapporo taking about how romantic and pretty everything was.

Per the words from their own mouths, they created a small, romantic, nice, and happy bubble they didn’t want to leave, and I love that for them. They got to be happy and cared for by one another, and want to spend many more years to come doing the same thing. I hope they get that.

Oh and final thought… I want that house! Their final Sapporo house was beautiful, as was the town. It felt like a holiday special!

[elarialuthien]

Dead drunk - Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warning: Alcohol is harmful to your health! ***

You rolled your eyes and wrapped your robe tighter, sleepily entering the corridor, yawning and looking displeased at the damn dead drunk guy who was trying to take off the shoe from his left foot. "Leon," you said, sighing heavily. "Where have you been? Do you know what time it is?"

He stumbled and walked towards you, leaning against the wall for support as he tried to remove his other shoe. "I got lost on the way home, baby," he muttered, trying to smile but failing. "Sorry I'm late."

His words were a little slurred and he swayed slightly where he stood. "Fuck," you cursed. "You're dead drunk. This is the third time this week."

He chuckled drunkenly as he pulled himself up again. "Well, I had a rough day," he replied, winking at you, although you couldn’t see it due to his position. " And besides... don’t you miss me when I’m gone?"

He tried to lean closer to you and hug you, but stumbled instead.

You sighed heavily and crossed your arms over your chest, watching him stumble around like an idiot. "No, I don't miss you when you're gone. I just need someone sober enough to talk to."

Your voice was annoyed.

He pouted, looking down at his feet before slowly looking up at her. "Oh, come on, Y\N... I'm sorry, okay?" He took a step towards you, reaching out to touch your hand gently. "Let me make amends..." His words trailed off as he leaned in, trying to capture your lips with his in a sloppy, drunken kiss.

You winced and took a step back, not responding to the kiss, Leon smelled of fumes and you, having grown up in a dysfunctional family where your parents drank like hell, you hated drunk people so damn much, but at the same time you loved Leon so damn much that I could forgive him, so to speak, for his " little trick." But as they say, patience can run out.

Feeling rejected, he snorted quietly before stumbling back. "Damn it..." he muttered under his breath. " I really screwed up this time, didn’t I?"

Even though Leon was drunk, he knew exactly how bad things were between the two of you right now.

" Damn strong," you said dryly and, going into the bedroom, you finally shouted: " Today you’re sleeping on the sofa!"

He looked after you, and his heart sank when he realized that you were serious. "Damn... I’m full of shit," he said quietly under his breath. "Okay, okay, then I'll sleep on the couch."

Even though he was drunk, he knew better than to argue with you, especially when you were so upset.

5 minutes later you heard the sound of Leon's footsteps approaching the room and then the creaking of the sofa bed in the living room. You pulled the blanket up to your chin, waiting for him to get settled before turning off the lights and closing your eyes, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day...

Sitting down on the uncomfortable sofa bed, Leon let out a long sigh. "Damn..." he muttered quietly under his breath again. " I wish I wasn’t such an asshole sometimes."

With these words hanging heavily in the silence of their apartment, Leon closed his eyes and fell asleep.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

In the morning you woke up from the smell of coffee and opened your sleepy eyes, yawned, got out of bed and washed your face in the bathroom, then went to the kitchen where Leon stood at the stove, dressed in home clothes, preparing pancakes, when he saw you, he smiled awkwardly. It was his rare day off and he decided to apologize in this way. You leaned against the doorway and looked at the awkwardly smiling guy, guilt clearly visible in his eyes.

Leon quickly turned away from the stove and grabbed two plates filled with freshly baked pancakes. " Uh, good morning," he greeted awkwardly, his voice still hoarse from sleep. "Hopefully this will help me make up for last night?"

He placed one plate in front of you before sitting down across from you at the table. "Thank you, Leon. They look delicious," you said sincerely, picking up your fork and taking a bite. The taste was amazing, as always. "But we need to talk about last night," you added, putting your fork down and meeting his gaze. "Drinking too much is no longer funny. It's starting to hurt us."

Leon nodded, avoiding eye contact as he picked at his food. " I know, Y\N. And I'm really sorry that things got so bad. I promise I will try to keep everything under control. " He looked at you with a sincere expression on his face. " I don’t want to lose you over something stupid like drinking."

" I hope so," you said with a sigh. "Leon, I grew up in a family of alcoholics, I know what alcohol does to people, and it’s terrible. I don’t want you to..." you hesitated. " He was like my father," you whispered quietly, remembering how your father, when he was drunk, beat you until you lost consciousness.

Leon reached across the table to take your hand in his, squeezing it gently. "Hey, I would never do anything like that to you or anyone. I swear." His voice was quiet but determined. "What happened to you as a child was horrible, and I hate that you had to go through that. But I’m not your father, Y/N. I love you too much to ever lay a hand on you." He lifted her hand to kiss your knuckles softly. "I’ll be better, I promise. For both of us."

" I believe you," you whispered, squeezing his hand back. " I know you’re not him, Leon. You’re nothing like him." You smiled softly at him, feeling the tension ease from your shoulders. " Thank you for making breakfast. It means a lot to me.”

Leon smiled warmly at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. " Anytime, beautiful. You deserve to be spoiled." He winked playfully before grabbing his pancakes again. " So, what are your plans for today? Maybe we can go hiking or something?" Leon’s suggestion was met with a thoughtful pause as you considered it.

" Actually, that sounds perfect," you said with a genuine smile. " The fresh air and exercise will do us both good after yesterday." You finished eating, then stood up to clear away the dishes.

Giving your boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek, you disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Leon to clean the kitchen.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 12

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 FYI, I’ve basically imagined that Dustin and Suzie are roughly the same age as the others in this, so in their late teens and early twenties…

Chapter 12: reality check

Five Days later

Steve picked up the phone and dialled Eddie’s number. It rang twice, before the answerphone stabbed him with the same old jack-knife in the gut:

“Hi! This is Suzie.”

“And this is Dustin.”

“We’re not around right now—

“—or we’re having our downtime, together or apart, which is super important to us—” 

Jesus Christ, kill me already.

Steve had heard this message a dozen times. Dustin and Suzie sounded so goddamn chirpy, like they were going to explode into song. And Steve had endured waaaaay too many chirpy songs the last few nights, courtesy of Robin’s mom’s cassette deck.

He endured the rest of their nail-scapingly annoying message and braced himself for the Ding!

“Hi, this is Steve. Again. Look, I really need to talk to Ed—”

“Answerphone tape full,” recited an electronic voice, the polar-opposite of chirpy.

“Fuck!” Steve slammed down the receiver. 

Why wasn’t Eddie returning his calls?

Okay, Steve had been sleeping a ton the past few days, might’ve missed something. Robin’s leave was over today, and her mom worked really long shifts…

A muffled meeeeow had him looking up sharpish. Resident cat, Fernando, glared at him through the window.

“All right, I’m sorry I stole your couch. I don’t hate you, it’s your fur that hates me. Way to go making me feel even shittier about it.”

He glared back. Trouble was, this was Fernando’s home, not his. Robin had technically moved out last year, and he’d barely got a nickel to slot into the housekeeping kitty.

He was gonna have to sell his watch. Or the guitar. Dammit, he’d wanted to check in with Eddie first, but what choice did he have?

He leafed through the telephone directory for music stores, scraped together some loose change, and caught a bus across the city. On the journey, he missed his old Sony Walkman as never before. Thanks to Robin’s mom, ‘Mamma Mia’ by Abba ear-wormed through his brain. Uuuuuuurgh! He  hugged the glittery guitar case tightly and attempted to pep himself up.

Eddie said he was crazy about Steve. Steve sure as heck felt the same. 

“Yes, I’ve been broken-hearted, blue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you go?”

“Shut the hell up, Agnetha,” he muttered, earning himself a scathing glance from a woman sitting close. But Steve hadn’t been broken-hearted when he left the hotel. He’d been scared shitless over that fact he was losing his memory as well as his mind. He still was. His future with Eddie had been the one thing he’d felt faintly optimistic about, and… 

“Look at me now, will I ever learn?”

No. No way. Eddie was a good person. Yeah, Robin had passed hours bad-mouthing him. No matter. Steve believed in Eddie. Well, he desperately wanted to. He was getting really worried about him—about whether he’d really been ‘cured’ of his agoraphobia, and about his overly sass-tastic and curiously absent friends. 

He missed him so much. Christ, it hurt.

In ‘Jivin’ Jams,’ Steve laid the guitar case on the counter and opened it. The store-owner’s brows shot sky high: “Where did you get this, son?”

“A friend gave it me,” said Steve. “There was a rumor it once belonged to Jimi Hendrix or something.” 

The guy stared at him, mega-intense, which Steve took to be a positive sign. Maybe he should play hardball, get competing offers from a bunch of stores.

“I’m looking for at least two-thousand bucks,” he ventured.

“I got some catalogues out back that should help me figure out what it’s worth. Gimme a tick.”

Steve shrugged. “Sure.”

The dude vanished. Steve waited, grinning when a track he knew—‘Friday I’m in love,” by The Cure—drowned out the Abba hell-loop in his head. He remembered this one. Yeah, he’d been flat on his back on that honking great bed, with his ankles looped around Eddie’s neck. While merrily fucking Steve, Eddie had sung along like an idiot:

“Monday, you can hold your head, Tuesday, Wednesday, stay in bed, Or Thursday, watch the walls instead, It's Friday, I'm in love…”

Christ, he missed Eddie’s dumbass ‘o’ face. He missed how Eddie always needed him to come too, loving it when Steve squirted across those lick-tastic tatts. Yeah, he missed… so much. If he got a decent amount for the guitar, maybe he and Eddie could rent a place together. Get back to fucking every day of the week…

He was still daydreaming, smirking vaguely, when the two policemen walked in. 

“I didn’t know it was stolen!” protested Steve. The son-of-a-bitch store-owner handed the guitar over the counter to one of the cops.

“Where d’you get it then?” asked the other.

“A friend gave it to me.” Steve’s legs started to feel wibbly.

“This friend got a name?”

Steve bit hard into his bottom lip.

“You think on it, and tell us when we get to the precinct, huh?” 

They took his knapsack and turned out his pockets. When the handcuffs came out, the bubble of panic in his windpipe ballooned.

“I didn’t know it was stolen,” he repeated, sort of on autopilot. They cuffed him anyway. Outside the store, the cool air smarted against his burning skin. “C-crap. No, please! Look… I… I didn’t know!”

He was guided into the back of their patrol vehicle and the door slammed shut. He shut his eyes, rested his head back, and battled his instinct to struggle against the cuffs.

OH MY GOD, EDDIE! YOU REALLY WERE TAKEN FOR A CHUMP!  

Unless he knew it was stolen? No. No way, no way. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. Okay… breathe. Keep calm, right? Shiiiiit! 

Steve had been picked up by the police once before. It’d been soon after he’d run from that man, when he was on the streets, and… Nope, nope, NOPE.

His mind grew as clammed up as his body. Which was probably how, breathing fast and shallow, he survived the short journey to the precinct. Still kinda dazed, he was uncuffed and processed. His rescue inhaler, which had been in his pack, was handed back to him. For the first time in a while, he managed to form a coherent sentence: “I need to make a phone call.”

As he was shown to the booth, his worries swerved off in a whole new direction. Dammit, he still didn’t know Robin’s number. He could try calling the hotel, see if he could get a message to her, but…

His unsteady fingers dialled the one number that’d etched itself into his heart. He knew it was gonna go to that ‘answerphone full’ message.

Shit, you are not gonna cry, Harrington, or you’re gonna be eaten alive.

“Hello, this is Suzie.”

“Oh Jesus Christ!”

“No, I’m afraid I’m not Him. This is Suzie Henderson. To whom am I speaking?”

“It’s Steve.” He swiped his knuckles across his cheekbones. “I’m, uh… um… Eddie’s friend. Is he there?”

“No, we don’t know where he is. We’re really worried.” She sure sounded less chirpy than in her message. “I thought Dusty tried to call you back. Have you heard from Eddie?”

“N-no, no. Oh my God. Oh my God, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.”

“You seem distressed, Steve. Can I help?”

What choice did he have? He poured out his story, including how Eddie gave him the guitar he was accused of fencing, right till the call randomly cut off.

…

In the interview room, a tired-looking cop dumped a worryingly thick file between them.

“It’s a simple question, kid. Tell us how you came into possession of Jimi Hendrix’s guitar, and we can cut you a deal. You sing sweet enough, you could skip all charges.”

Steve chewed his thumbnail, stared at the table: “I got it from a friend.”

“Listen to me. That guitar was stolen during an armed robbery at a house in Brentwood. You already got an arrest record. You don’t talk, you’re looking at some serious time behind bars.”

Steve gawked up at the interviewer, his thumb still half-caught in his mouth. He’d go to the prison for the guy he loved but…

This isn’t happening.

“Whoever you’re covering for, are they worth it? You scared they’re gonna come for you? We can put you in witness protection.”

Scared? Of Eddie? It was almost hilarious, and finally snapped Steve from his clammed-up funk. He giggled nervously.

“You think this is funny, kid? You can laugh your ass off in jail. You wanna recall your friend’s name for me now?”

“I… um…”

Eddie would want you to tell him, you idiot! He can probably help clear this mess up! There is also the teensy weensy possibility he’s skipped town, leaving you holding his seriously problematic baby…

“Look, I’m not exactly sure where he—“

The door flew wide and a young woman with fashionably frizzy hair and some serious shoulder-pad action stepped in. “Stop the interview. My name’s Nancy Wheeler. I’m Steve’s lawyer and I need a moment alone with my client.”

The interviewer looked mildly pissed then picked up his files and shuffled out.

Steve slumped back in his seat and blinked at his apparent saviour. Beneath the make-up and the power suit, she didn’t look much older than he was. She smiled tightly, pulled a chair around and sat down beside him.

“Woah, woah, woah.” Steve finally found his voice. “I don’t wanna sound ungrateful, but I can’t pay you anything."

“I’m not actually a lawyer,” she hissed, kinda apologetic. “I’m a trainee journalist. Friend of Suzie’s. She’s sort of into law as a hobby, and she’s clued me in on exactly what to say, so… sit tight, keep quiet. We’ll have you out of here in no time.”

…

Nancy did a lot of talking, and Steve eventually found himself leaving the precinct flanked by Nancy and Suzie. Suzie had brought her checkbook to pay Steve’s bail, though in the end, he hadn’t been charged.

He’d lost track of time during his ordeal, and it was past ten pm and dark outside. Before they reached the bottom of the precinct steps, a Volvo drew up, and its internal light switched on. A guy with curly hair and a ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest’ baseball cap wound down the window.

“Get in!” he yelled.

“Love you too, Dusty-bun.” Suzie headed around to the front passenger seat. 

Steve hesitated. “Uh, look, I appreciate the cavalry charge and all, but you’re, like, complete strangers.”

“Get in, Dingus!” Robin had rolled down the backseat window.

“What the heck are you doing here?” He climbed in, and she folded him into a clumsy hug. Nancy climbed in on his other side.

“Are you okay?” asked Robin.

“Jesus, what do you think? I got arrested, and.. I’m so confused.”

Robin launched her story, as Dustin drove off. When she’d discovered Steve AWOL, she’d freaked out. Then she’d called Dustin’s number, which she knew Steve had been trying all week. While garbling madly at each other, she’d learned from Dustin about Steve’s arrest. Dustin, meanwhile, gleaned that Robin had heard from co-workers that day about an incident at the hotel.

The same incident that Dustin, Suzie and Nancy had spent the last few days trying to get to the bottom of.

“What happened at the hotel?” asked Steve.

“We’re not entirely sure,” said Nancy. Steve wasn’t sure why they'd gotten a rookie journalist in tow. So much baffled him right now. “What we do know is that the police have charged Eddie with assault and battery. His disappearing act doesn’t exactly help his case.” 

“What? No way!” Steve couldn’t buy it. Eddie was one of the gentlest guys he’d ever known. Okay, there was that one time he busted his own knuckles, but…

"It's a pretty serious business," Robin was saying. "The only witness was Doreen. She swore that the so-called 'victim’”— Robin spluttered the word out like sour milk—“was blind drunk and walked into a pillar, but the police didn't buy it.”

“We’ve got to find Eddie before the cops do,” chipped in Dustin.

“Yeah, well, LAPD are the least of Eddie’s troubles,” snapped Robin. “I’m gonna gut him over this whole guitar business.”

Too fucking much.

After the rollercoaster of the past few hours, Steve felt basically punch-drunk. He groaned, rubbed his brow, then shaded his eyes from the dazzle of the streetlights. “Please just someone tell me you’ve got a clue where Eddie is.”

“It’s a work in progress,” said Suzie. “He never picked up his ride from the hotel. We’ve exhausted our leads locally, so we’re heading up to Oregon to see his uncle. Wayne won’t talk over the phone—”

“He won’t talk to us, period,” interjected Dustin. “But I think he knows something.”

“We’re going to Oregon?” Steve emerged from beneath his fingers. “Now? The cops told me to not leave town.”

“Dustin said he’d drop us home first,” said Robin. “I’d be delighted to wash my hands of Jon Bon Jovi’s evil stoner cousin for good.”

“He’s not evil.” Steve gave an enormous yawn, then zoned in on the one thing he knew for sure. “I need to find him. You go home, Robin. Fernando will scratch my eyes out if I spend another night on his couch.”

She bitched a bit more, including about how yuck and sweaty he was. Then she refused to leave him. He curled up against her—he couldn’t risk drooling on a complete stranger—and hunkered down for the long drive.

....

Part 13 on Ao3 (tumblr link coming soon!)

promise we’ll get back to Eddie in the next chapter. I needed to get a few more characters into play so we can finally get steddie on their path to healing and HEA… soon (ish!) 

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2 Part 5.1 Part 5.2 Part 6.1 Part 6.2 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 or search #thefreakinthepenthouse :)

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[philomenie]

RIDE THROUGH AN AUTUMN NIGHT

Pairing: Jolly x Alice

CN: angst, grief, break up, mention of cheating, drugs, alcohol, fluff

@reyadawn @nojoyontheburn @dsireland86 @jilliemiw86 @fadingintothegrey @aubrey-melinoe

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Exhausted from lack of sleep and jet lag, Jolly stands at the car rental counter at Stockholm airport waiting to finally get the damn keys to his rental car.

The last few hours seem almost surreal to him... he's now been traveling for almost 13 hours, and on top of that he's hardly slept at all, as he left straight after the last concert in L.A., went to the airport, waited there for the next available flight to Stockholm, which fortunately wasn't fully booked and left in less than half an hour.

So now he's in Stockholm, overnighted, exhausted, without luggage, in sweatpants and a hoodie, although at this time of year, unlike in warm California, it can get pretty cold in Stockholm.

The last rays of sunshine on this sunny October day have long since faded and it is already dark.

Jolly needs nothing more than a bed and a good night's sleep, but he has to go through with what he has planned.

He is afraid that once he is asleep about everything, his courage might leave him and he knows that if he retreats now, he will probably never have the courage to do what he wants to do, needs to do.

He is now firmly convinced that he simply MUST do it. He MUST seize this opportunity, this last opportunity, to perhaps have a minimal chance of saving what he so carelessly threw away so long ago. The love and affection of Alice.

The woman who once meant the world to him and whom he first abandoned and then repressed. Repressed, not forgotten, because he could never really forget her completely.

Whether it was a one-night stand, friendship plus or a relationship after Alice, he had unconsciously compared every woman to her, as he had realized in the last few hours on the plane.

He thought long and hard and came to the conclusion that he was a huge fucking asshole who too often just wanted to have fun and live the rock star life to the full.

Whether it was women, partying or the occasional drug, alcohol.... He lived his life to the limit for a long time without showing much consideration for others. Others who should have meant something to him, meant something to him, like Alice....

FUCK, what an idiot he was.

Lately, or rather in the last two or three years, he has slowly realized that this life isn't everything, can't be everything, and he has taken a step back, no more random one-night stands, no more drugs, hardly any alcohol, hardly any parties.

Somehow he's only really grown up now, in his mid-30s, and has realized what's really important in life....

The decisive factor was actually his last failed relationship, when his girlfriend at the time accused him of only being half-hearted about it, of not fully committing to her and the relationship.

This got Jolly thinking six months ago and he realized that his heart was still attached to Alice, as his thoughts kept wandering back to her and the questions of 'what if' and 'what could have been' still dominated his thoughts and feelings.

“Right Mr. Karlsson... here are the papers I need you to sign here and here..... and here are the keys to your hire car!” smiles the young woman behind the counter, snapping Jolly out of his thoughts.

He looks at her, irritated.

“You still have to sign here and here!” she explains kindly a second time and pushes the rental agreement and the insurance contract towards Jolly.

“Um... yes, sorry, I was thinking it!” mumbles Jolly and quickly signs the papers, then has the key handed to him.

“The car is in our parking lot, right here at the airport, you can't miss it if you go straight out through the main exit.... Parking lot number 14!” explains the young woman with a smile, ”Have a nice stay in Stockholm!”

“Hmm, thanks!” nods Jolly and walks off, out of the building, where the cold, crisp fall air rushes towards him.

Jolly stops for a moment and takes a deep breath of the fresh air, closing his eyes briefly. The smell of home runs through his head and a pleasant shiver runs through his body.

Home... what does that actually mean to him now?

Is it California, L.A.?

Or is it rather Sweden....

In the past, he would have said L.A., his new home, without batting an eyelid, but right now he feels a certainty deep inside him that this is his real home, always has been and always will be.

His roots are here and perhaps it is time for him to realize what that means.

Home.... Jolly also knows that it's not just a place, a feeling, but also a person.... His home has always been Alice. With her, he felt safe, loved, understood, accepted just as he is, wasn't questioned, didn't try to change.... He was simply allowed to be himself..... just be....

He could just kick himself in the ass for throwing it away like that... God you asshole, you moron, he thinks to himself angrily!

Jolly quickly finds the car, a silver-colored SUV from Volvo... a Volvo, of course... what else here in Sweden, he thinks to himself and has to grin.

He gets in, then sets the sat nav before driving off.

Fuck, three and a half hours' drive, and it's already past 9 pm... which means he won't be in Jönköping, or rather Husqvarna, a suburb of Jönköping, until half past twelve. His old hometown, where he was born and raised, where he took his first steps in the music business with his first band, where he met and fell in love with Alice.... The place he was all too ready to leave, just as he was all too ready to leave Alice. For a career in America.... For a life to his liking..... an extraordinary life.

But this extraordinary life has been demanding a lot from him lately, almost too much if he is honest with himself.

Sighing, he turns the ignition key in the lock and starts the car, drives out of the parking lot, letting himself be guided by the voice of the navigation system in the dark, starry autumn night.

Jolly's thoughts drift back to the previous day, the concert they played, which was something of a turning point in his life, depending entirely on the outcome of the conversation Jolly wants to try and have.

Nevertheless, he already knows that no matter how the conversation turns out, he won't be the same person he was before.

Too much has happened at once, he's learned things he didn't know, never thought he would, and he's realized how much he's hurt Alice.

God, she won't listen to me anyway, probably won't even let me get a word in edgewise, if she even opens the door....

Jolly becomes uncertain.

Damn it, shouldn't he go to a hotel after all.... NO, at least he has to go to Jönköping today. He can stay in a hotel there.

He doesn't want to go to his parents, especially as they don't even know he's here. He hasn't told anyone that he's coming.

Of his bandmates, he only told Noah because he came to the conversation, if you can call it that, that he had after the concert.

Jolly is sure that Noah has told everyone by now that he had to leave urgently.

He can still remember Noah's words: “If you're going to do it, do it properly, be honest, just go completely naked if you want to have another chance with her!”

And that's exactly what he plans to do!

Kilometer after kilometer passes in the starry night. Jolly has opened the window a crack to feel the fresh, cold air on his skin and to dispel his tiredness.

He takes a few deep breaths in and out.

He reviews what has just happened in his mind's eye.

During the concert, he had already noticed the young woman standing near the barricade with her friends. The first time he consciously looked at her, he messed up the chord, which earned him an irritated look from Noah. Normally, he never messes up.

But he was too perplexed, because at first he really thought he was looking at Alice. About the same height, same figure, even the same hair color, almost exactly the same facial features.... Even the dimples when she laughed were identical.

This woman looked exactly like Alice did when he left her, nine years ago...

Jolly had to keep looking at her, which her friends also noticed and pointed out to her. The cool, disparaging look that he then received from ice-blue eyes made it clear to him that it couldn't be Alice, as Alice has green eyes, but he was familiar with this look and had already received it in the past.

From Maja, Alice's little sister, who is 10 years younger than Alice and hated him with a passion back then. That definitely hasn't changed, in fact it has intensified.

After the concert, he practically stormed off the stage, more or less threw his guitar into Josh's arms and went down to the barricade, but Maja and her friends were nowhere to be seen.

Fuck... he just has to find them and ask for Alice....

He had searched social media for her some time ago, but couldn't find her profile. His internet search revealed that she still lives in Jönköping, Husqvarna. In a typical Swedish house on the edge of a small settlement, just as she always wanted.

A lump then formed in Jolly's throat as he recalled some of the conversations they had.

At the beginning of their relationship, when they were just 20 years old, Alice and he often played a game, What if....? A question and answer game

What if I'm 30 years old... Alice once asked.... He still remembers this question very well, including his answer!

Then we're married and you're touring the world with me because I'm a famous rock star....

Jolly feels that lump in his throat again and angrily punches the steering wheel.... FUCK!!!

God, they were so young and so in love.... Alice was friends with Petter's sister and once happened to be at a band rehearsal in Petter's basement.

They had both fallen head over heels in love with each other. However, it took a while before they finally got together because both were too shy and insecure at first to reveal their feelings to the other.

Heavens, when Jolly thinks about it now, he gets the same weak knees and that tugging in his stomach, in his chest, as he did back then, whenever he thought about Alice or saw her.

He can even smell her scent if he closes his eyes for a moment, which isn't safe considering he's sitting in a car right now and driving. Lavender. Alice has always smelled of lavender.

A flower that even he knows, as his mother has dozens of lavender bushes among her roses in her garden.

Alice was always at his side, at every performance, whenever she could manage it.

They were inseparable.

Until... until he became something like a megalomaniac! In any case, at some point everything was too small, too little, not spectacular enough for him. He wanted more, much more. Fame, success and, stupidly, other women who willingly offered themselves to him.

After every infidelity, he crawled back to Alice in remorse, promising her again and again that it would never happen again. After every drunken binge, he swore to her that he would drink less or nothing more. Because as soon as he got drunk and Alice wasn't with him, he ended up back in bed with some girl anyway.

He still doesn't know why Alice kept taking him back. She seemed to be able to forgive him for all that.

Maybe because they were simply made for each other, she knew that, only he had forgotten it?

FUCK.... Alice was just perfect for him, in every way.

Her silky dark brown hair that shimmered reddish in the sunlight. Her green eyes that sparkled like emeralds, her cherry-red, full lips that he loved to kiss so much, her dimples when she laughed. Her sparkling laugh in general, which always made him weak.

Her delicate hands with the many silver rings, her perfect ears with the piercings. Her swan-like neck, which he loved to cover with kisses.

Her narrow waist, which he loved to embrace, to pull her towards him, to signal to everyone that she was his and only his.

At some point, he began to pull away from her more and more, partly out of a guilty conscience, partly out of selfishness.

Maja more than hated him at this point and showed it openly as soon as they met.

Jolly has to think about her last evening.

Alice must have known back then when he turned up at her door. With his hoodie and baseball cap pulled over his face, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets, staring at the floor as he began to speak haltingly.

She was still defending him against everyone and anyone at this point, not letting anyone say a bad word about him, even when he hurt her, unconsciously but also consciously... in the end it was mostly conscious and he didn't care.

That absolute shitty evening when he stood stammering on the porch outside her parents' house and told her that he was leaving and that he was therefore ending their relationship, he knew for a fact that he was breaking her heart.

She plunged into an absolute hole of despair and he hardly cared because he told himself that it was the right thing to do, that it was time to move on, to get to know new things, to start a new life....

HE decided what Alice wanted didn't count for anything at that point.

Jolly angrily hits the steering wheel again.

Damn selfish idiot, he growls again and again.

Maja then appeared at some point and shouted at him because she had heard her sister crying. The girl hit him and shouted that he should fuck off, preferably die and never come back, just leave her sister alone.

Jolly was almost right, he could practically escape from the situation, which he did without looking back once.

He blocked out Alice's sobs until he drove away with screeching tires.

FUCK..... Now he remembers this little detail, just before he started talking.... Alice said we need to talk.... Jolly thought she meant their relationship, that it's at ground zero right now, disastrous, messy, destructive!

Now he knows she wanted to talk about something else... FUCK!!!!

If only he had listened to her once....

If only he'd let her talk first....

However, he's not sure if that would have made much difference at the time.

FUCK, he really is the biggest scum.…

Jolly has to stop because he feels sick and dizzy, so he pulls into a parking bay on the side of the road, switches off the engine and pulls open the driver's door, sucking the crisp autumn air into his lungs.

Slowly, the dizziness and nausea get better.

Damn... he hasn't eaten or drunk anything for a long time....

Just as he is about to let the navigation system search for a gas station or a snack bar, his cell phone buzzes.

It's Noah.

“Arrived safely?” he wants to know immediately.

“Hmm,” grumbles Jolly in agreement.

“So, are you in Jönköping yet?” Noah continues.

“Not yet... I've still got a good two hours' drive ahead of me!” gulps Jolly.

“Fuck... have you slept at all?” Noah asks anxiously.

“Some.....” Jolly qualifies, stifling a yawn.

“Are you still going to see her today?” Noah asks.

“Honestly... no idea right now!” growls Jolly, ”Since I've been on the road, I've been thinking about everything, what mistakes I've made, how much I've hurt her.... But also how much I loved her... how much I still love her...... Noah, she was THE one... and I broke everything, threw everything away.... How am I supposed to just show up at her door in the middle of the night after almost 10 years and beg for forgiveness? Beg her for forgiveness with the idiotic hope that she'll take me back?”

“You can only try, what she does then is not in your power to influence!” Noah explains seriously, ”Like I said, get naked! If she really means as much to you as you said, then this is your only chance!”

“I know..... but I'm scared shitless right now!” whispers Jolly harshly, ”So much depends on it.”

“Exactly, that's why!” hisses Noah, ”Jesus, Jolly, since when are you such a doubter? You're not a coward! Face up to everything, admit your mistakes and hope for the best, that's all you can do!”

“Yes, I am a coward... I was and I probably still am.....” mumbles Jolly, embarrassed.

“Then face it!” Noah declares seriously, ”Just do it!”

“Hmm” grumbles Jolly.

“Listen, let me know when you've arrived and what you want to do then. Maybe you'll have a bit more clarity by then!” Noah explains gently, ‘And one thing you shouldn't forget, despite everything, is what Maja's girlfriend blurted out!’ he then grins.

“Hmm” nods Jolly, a little more hopefully.

“So! Stand your ground and don't run away!” Noah reiterates to Jolly before hanging up.

Jolly stares thoughtfully at the display of his cell phone.... The words of Maja's girlfriend still clear in his ear.

FUCK, he has to try, Noah is right, so he sits back down, closes the car door and drives off again.

However, he makes a little detour to the nearest gas station and stocks up on various snacks and drinks, as his blood sugar feels off the charts.

After he has consumed most of the snacks and 2 cans of Coke, he feels better again. Not just physically, but mentally too, so he is determined to go through with it.

Preferably tonight!

The longer he drives towards Jönköping, towards Alice, the stronger his longing for her becomes. God, it just has to work, he tells himself again and again.

Alice is his home, always has been and always will be....

Maja will strangle him, as she has sworn to do, if he dares to go to Alice, but he accepts that.

Maja was so angry, mainly because her friends, especially Selma, had blabbed and only didn't go after him because Noah suddenly appeared next to him.

Jolly has to grin at this memory.

It was pure coincidence that he met Maja and her friends after the concert after all.

After he and the others had freshened up, they actually wanted to get to their minibus in the venue's private parking lot.

On the way there, they had to pass a group of concertgoers, separated by barricades.

Jolly's gaze automatically wandered over the people and got stuck on Maja, or more precisely, her rear view.

Jolly was struck by lightning at first and couldn't move, but then he gave himself a jolt and approached her, talking to her over the barricade.

Her friends' eyes almost popped out of their heads, but they stared at him and Maja open-mouthed and speechless.

It felt like an eternity before Maja turned to him with a cool, hateful look.

“What do you want?!” her voice couldn't have been icier.

“Talk?!” he shrugged his shoulder awkwardly in response.

“What would I want to talk to YOU about!” came the reply.

“Maja... please, I know it's been a long time... but when I saw you earlier.... Damn you look so damn much like her.....” he swallowed.

“You realize that now, after fuckin almost 10 years?! Fucking asshole! You could have contacted her long ago if you'd really wanted to! Suddenly you're getting sentimental? Remembering the good old days? Or are you horny? Don't you have a slut to fuck right now?” she snapped at him.

Her friends were more speechless than ever, and other concert-goers listened with interest.

“Maja... please.... can we discuss this in peace and quiet? In a different setting?” he tried to reassure her.

“Forget it, Karlsson, you're scum and I'm certainly not going to listen to you!” was her reply.

Until Selma regained her composure and blurted out a few things.

“FUCK.... Then HE really is HIM?!” she stammered.

“Shut up!” growled Maja.

Jolly couldn't quite follow that.

“I thought you were joking when you said you knew the fuckin guitarist from fuckin Bad Omens.... FUCK!” blurted out one of the other women.

“Yes... I 'know' that asshole... unfortunately!” Maja hissed.

“But is HE really HIM then?” Selma followed up.

“Shut up!” growled Maja.

“FUCK... you know very well that Alice still loves him, if that's who he is! Hasn't forgotten him. As well as.....” Selma blurted out, interrupted by Maja.

“Shut your mouth, Selma! I won't say it again!” Maja grabbed Selma's arm angrily.

“Alice still loves me?!” whispered Jolly tonelessly, more to himself than to the others. This information turned his whole world upside down.

Selma, who had broken away from Maja, nods, “Yes, she does... She hasn't had a steady relationship for years, dates now and then that have all come to nothing.... Which isn't just because of Liam!”

“Liam?” Jolly furrowed his brow in irritation.

“That's enough... it's none of his business! He ran off back then and Selma, I swear I'll wring your neck if you make another sound!” Maja hissed at her friend.

“Who's Liam?” Jolly wanted to know.

“As I see it, your son!” Selma nodded and Maja tried to lunge at her, which Jolly just managed to prevent with a firm grip.

“DON'T TOUCH ME!” Maja yelled out all her anger and frustration, ”AND LEAVE ALICE ALONE!”

“Maja... is that right?” gulped Jolly, thunderstruck.

But Maja preferred icy silence.

“Yes... Alice has a son and he must be yours!” Selma nodded instead.

Jolly felt like he might faint in an instant, so he clung to the barricade. Panting and gasping for air, he stood there, “Really?” he croaked with a pleading look at Maja, who didn't give him a glance, instead stabbing Selma with her eyes.

“Maja... is that true?” he repeated pleadingly.

“He looks a lot like you... your hair color, your eyes....” Selma enumerated, ”The right age. She hasn't told anyone who the father is, but..... well, when you see him, you'll just know!”

“Maja....?” Jolly choked out questioningly.

“Luckily he doesn't have your nature...” Maja hissed almost inaudibly, but Jolly had heard and his legs threatened to buckle.

At that moment, Noah joined them and was able to observe Jolly's strange behavior from a distance.

Worried, he put a hand on his back, “Are you OK, Jolly?”

“No... actually, nothing's ok....” Jolly choked out, ”I have to go, Noah!”

“What, where? Why?” Noah wanted to know immediately.

“To Sweden... She's still in Sweden, isn't she?” Jolly asked and Selma nodded.

“Yes, she's still alive, or rather back in Jönköping!” Selma confirmed.

“If you care about her, you leave her alone!” Maja suddenly declared icily, ”She's been through hell because of you, even after.... Now it looks like she's made up with her life and everything. Don't you dare destroy that again by showing up, turning everything upside down and then disappearing again! Besides, it's also about Liam, a child!”

“I.... Maja... I need to talk to her!” gulped Jolly.

“Yes, YOU have to talk to her, all right. Once again, it doesn't matter what she needs!” snapped Maja.

“Maja, she still loves him.... She told me at the summer party when Nils broke up with me. She told me about her great love that she could never forget and how hard it is to let go, even though you don't really want to....” Selma explained gently.

Jolly felt sick.... FUCK, he really destroyed Alice back then.

Noah looked from one to the other uncomprehendingly, “Alice, Liam... kid?? What are we talking about here?”

“I guess I have a son!” gulped Jolly and Noah went no less pale than Jolly already was.

“WHAT???” he gasped tonelessly.

“Yeah, with Alice... I didn't know about anything... had absolutely no idea, she never told me.....” gulped Jolly.

“Yes, I wonder why!” Maja added spitefully.

“The Alice you told me about? The one you still love?” Noah then wanted to know, which made the women present sit up and take notice.

“Yes, that Alice.....” nodded Jolly.

“Then go to yourself, get your shit in order, get naked and try to win her back!” Noah nodded seriously.

Jolly looked at him questioningly, but Noah just gave him a shove, “GO, for fuck's sake, what are you waiting for?”

So he ran off, took a cab to the airport and is now here, in the middle of the night on a lonely road in Sweden on a clear fall night. Ready to take his fate into his own hands and win back the love of his life.

Monotonously, kilometer after kilometer goes by. Jolly goes through countless scenarios in his mind, what he should say to her, how he should say it.

FUCK, he feels like a schoolboy trying to slip a love letter to his crush. Just as excited, just as insecure.

As the lights of Jönköping slowly illuminate the darkness, Jolly's heart beats faster, he feels sick again and starts to sweat.

He nervously brushes his hair out of his face.

What should he do now? Go straight to her or check into a hotel and wait until tomorrow to attack her?

Jolly is getting more and more nervous.

Swearing, he pulls up again with squealing tires. He has to get to her, otherwise he's afraid of losing his courage.

The small settlement on the outskirts of Jönköping already seems to be sleeping peacefully, with only a few illuminated windows to be seen.

The SUV slowly rolls along the road until Jolly reaches his destination.

Alice's house.

His heart is pounding in his throat and he feels like he is going to faint again when he stops and takes the ignition key out of the lock.

He has to inhale and exhale deeply for a moment.

A glimmer of light can be seen from a window at the side. Alice must still be awake.....

She's always been a night owl, he remembers, and a smile steals across his face.

With trembling legs, he walks through the small garden gate and along the gravel path that winds its way to the house, climbing the steps to the porch that nestles against the front door.

Should I really, it races through his head......

He almost lets his hand drop again, but then he raises it again and knocks hard on the front door.

It's so loud, he himself is startled and looks around because a dog has started barking somewhere nearby, so he doesn't even notice that the hall light has gone on and keys are being turned in the door lock with a rustle.

Only when the door opens a crack does he startle, staring into bright green eyes that widen in shock.

Before Alice can slam the door shut again, at least that's what Jolly assumes, he pushes his foot between the door and the hinge and presses his hand against the door.

“Please.... We need to talk!” he chokes out, looking at her pleadingly.

Alice is so shocked that she can't get a sound out, nods automatically, undoes the chain in front of the door and then opens it completely.

As she stands there in front of him, Jolly's knees go weak and a stupid grin appears on his face. God, how could he have left her.

A whole world of emotions assaults him.

Love, desire, longing, security, home.... He feels all of this at the same time, just at the sight of her and the delicate scent she exudes. Lavender.

Alice is still unable to make a sound, so she just stands there in her leggings, oversized sweatshirt, thick woolen socks and messy hair bun, from which countless strands have stolen and are winding around her delicate face.

Jolly would have liked to tuck her behind her ear, but he doesn't dare move a finger, let alone touch her.

So he just chokes out, “We need to talk!” again.

Alice must have recovered from her initial shock. She clears her throat, wraps her arms around her torso, pushes her chin forward slightly and narrows her eyes.

She's even more enchanting than usual when she's angry, it occurs to Jolly as he looks at her like that and his desire for her continues to grow.

“About what?!” she growls softly at him.

“About just about everything....” sighs Jolly softly, ”Please.... Just let me finish, then when you say go, I'll go. I promise!”

Alice eyes him coolly, but then nods.

So Jolly plucks up all his courage, puts everything into a balance and begins to apologize to her, revealing his true feelings, what a fucking idiot he has been. In the end, he begs her forgiveness, asks for a second chance.

“I love you, Alice. I always have and I always will. I was just so stupid that it took me so long to realize that..... and then I had to work up the courage to go to you!” he mumbles.

“I understand if you send me away because I hurt you so much..... tore you to pieces.... All I can say is how sorry I am!” he swallows.

Alice looks at him for a long time. You can see how hard she is working, how much she is struggling with herself. But then she straightens her shoulders.

“It's too late, Joakim!” she whispers harshly and Jolly flinches as if he's been hit, but he was actually expecting this answer, ”No one has ever hurt me like you before and I'll never let myself be hurt like you did again! So please go!”

The question about Liam is on the tip of Jolly's tongue, but he remains silent. He understands that he has no right to ask Alice about his son. He has no right to anything. He gambled it all away a long time ago.

“I see...” he just nods, ”If I could, I'd turn back time... but I can't... I'd like to shake myself, beat myself up, to come to my senses.... I'm so incredibly sorry, Alice. And I know you won't believe me when I tell you I love you......”

Jolly can't move, but then he tears himself away, turns and storms out of the house, leaps down the porch steps and hurries to his SUV.

With trembling fingers, he unlocks the lock, but before he can open the car door, he is overcome by a wave of nausea and has to lean against the car, retching and gasping for breath.

It all seems to be too much for his body, his legs buckle and Jolly has to kneel down, leaning his head against the car door.

He feels hot tears running down his cheeks, so he presses his face against the cool car door.

In a surge of despair, he bangs his head against it a few times, just to stop feeling this despair, letting suppressed sobs escape his throat.

FUCK... this must be exactly how Alice felt back then.....

“YOU FUCKING STUPID IDIOT!” it suddenly hisses next to him and Jolly blinks upwards in confusion, where Alice stands like an angry avenging angel, staring down at him, trembling and equally crying.

“WHY???” she continues to hiss and punches him on the shoulder.

Jolly tries to get to his feet and stands up, trembling.

“TELL ME WHY??” Alice continues to cry, pounding his broad chest with her fists. Jolly just lets it happen.

“WHY ONLY NOW??? WHY ARE YOU ONLY COMING NOW? WHY DID YOU GO TO .....” Alice gasps.

“I... can't tell you... because I was a stupid asshole... scared of what we had.... Felt constricted..... I'm sorry.... I'm so incredibly sorry!” he mumbles.

Alice continues to lash out at him, taking all her frustration out on him until she stands sobbing in front of him, “And why do I still love you......” she breathes so softly that Jolly thinks he has misheard her at first.

Alice looks him in the eye with a teary gaze, “Why?”

Jolly can't help but pull her into his arms and hold her close. Alice clings to him, sobbing.

“I'm so incredibly sorry, Älskade!” he swallows.

“I can't do this again.....” sobs Alice.

“I know, min Älskling, I know...” whispers Jolly tenderly, stroking her hair, ”If I hadn't realized that, I wouldn't have come...... I came to stay with you!”

Startled, Alice looks at him, scrutinizing him closely, but all she can see in his gaze is love and the promise he has just made to her.

“I don't know.... I....” she swallows.

“We don't have to rush into anything!” nods Jolly, ”I'll stay here for now... let's just start over. Get to know each other again.”

“But there's something else I need to tell you.....” swallows Alice.

“I've known that for a while... And the thing I'm most sorry about is that I wasn't there for you!” Jolly nods seriously.

“Where from?” asks Alice, stunned, and Jolly tells her that he met Maja and her friends in LA.

“And Selma's still alive?” Alice has to ask.

“Well, at least she was when I stormed off!” smiles Jolly and kisses Alice's forehead.

“Maja will kill her and me!” Alice then nods.

“Why you?” Jolly wants to know.

Alice buries her nose in Jolly's broad chest, breathes in his tart scent, which lulls her and gives her the security she has missed for so long, “Because I'm so stupid and say yes....” she whispers.

“You're saying yes? You really want to try again with me?” Jolly's heart seems to burst.

Alice nods, “Yes... because I still love you, I've missed you so damn much and this feels so good, so right......”

She lifts her head, “But if you.....”

“No!” Jolly interrupts her immediately, leaning in and kissing her tenderly, ”No, I won't!”

The gust of wind that catches them both and pushes them closer together is like a sealing of this promise.......

[22degreehalo]

Urghhhhhhhh so that whole calming effect of adhd meds is sure not very helpful when I'm up in the morning and trying to wake myself up :///

[daily-sifloop]

Stargazing? ✨

Day 10: looking for your star

[belleandsaintsebastian]

going to study in the library this weekend.....sit in a park....read. watch a movie from start to finish. play my bass. sleep!!!! :))