#fine pitch screws

[emmyrosee]

hi emmy i really like your writings ✨🎠❣️ can i please request sukuna with a clumsy reader that seems to be accident-prone. and one time she denies his help and says she can take care of her own well being and then the next second she just get injured like pretty bad she just cries on sukuna because it hurts and embarrassing for her. thank youuu so muchh if you really write this request ✨🙏🎠🤍

I LOVE CLUMSY READERS ☹️🫶🏻

—

“You’re going to fall.”

Sukuna watches from a respectful distance as you step from the chair onto the countertop, the griddle up there seemingly farther away every time he puts it there. “Please, for the love of all things unholy, let me help you.”

“No, no,” you say dramatically. “You always tease me for falling, always make fun of me for needing help, don’t act high and mighty now that you think I might need help.”

“Can you not use your thinking skills to figure out that I’m teasing you when I say stuff like that?” He says, watching as your body sways softly from the height. “Oh my god, please get down.”

“Sukuna im fine,” you laugh. Your hands reach up to grab the door handle, and when you can’t open it to full capacity, you try to take a step back to open it, only to forget exactly how high up you were, and you slip.

He moves like a bullet to catch you, but your knee slams into the countertop that originally held you, and you sink your teeth into your lip as Sukuna awkwardly cradles your body against his chest, save for your now throbbing knee which dangles helplessly. Tears well in your eyes as searing pain blooms from your bone, and you can’t look up at him, no, because you’ll cry. You’ll burst into tears right now and sob in pain and embarrassment, from him being right and holy shit did you fracture your knee what the hell-

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking down at you expectantly. His voice is unusually low, probably to try and keep you comforted, but all it does is make you screw your eyes shut and try to fight off the line of tears that bubble and slip down your cheeks. “Shit, baby, let me-“

“I’m fine!” You hiss, struggling in his grasp. The minute you move your leg, however, the shooting daggers of pain make you whimper in agony. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

“No,” he snaps. “You’re fucking hurt. Don’t be fucking stubborn.”

He hulks your body up and onto the countertop, the action having you choke out a sob from the pain and shame coursing through you. He gingerly takes your leg in his hands, testing the way it bends and how your cries pitch in distress as he handles it one way or another. With a click of his tongue he spins on his heel to make his way to the freezer and grab a bag of frozen veggies.

“You don’t listen to me,” he snarls. “What, you think because I tease you, you’ve gotta go risk your fucking life to prove a point?” He presses the bag of vegetables on your knee, the pressure making you wheeze and the chill shocking your nerves. Despite his words, he shushes you softly at your distress and uses his free arm to pull you against his chest.

“You stand on chairs all the time,” you whimper, and you hear him scoff.

“Yeah, because I don’t give a fuck if I fall. You just got seriously hurt, don’t you know how scary that was? For both of us? For fucks sake, what if you cracked your skull!”

You sniffle against him and shrug at his worries, and he clicks his tongue with a sigh. “I care about you, baby. Don’t do stupid shit like that, okay?” When you nod against him, he chuckles softly, “my stupid, clumsy brat.”

“Shut up.”

[lovebugism]

hi!! could I possibly request something with Eddie or Steve with their chronically ill gf? I have POTS and although I don't full on faint, I get super fainty often and can lose my vision a little sometimes from that, and I think it would be cute to see how either boys would be with a partner like that (IF NOT THAT'S TOTALLY OKAY, THIS IS A VERY SELF INDULGENT REQUEST)

i tried to make this more general since i don't personally have pots, but it ended up being very self-indulgent bc i do get fainting spells quite often so enjoy hahah :D — the one where eddie munson is a very panicky caregiver (established relationship, hurt/comfort | 1.2k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

The hottest day of the season weighs heavily upon you. The golden hour sunlight and sticky summer air seep into your bones, sucking all the energy from your already tired body. You feel a bit like a vampire now — a withering thing wasting away in the center of Eddie Munson’s bed, with nothing but a clicking fan beside you blowing hot air around the room.

Eddie seems largely unfazed by the summer weather despite his metalhead qualities, which should otherwise clash with the heat. 

He’s shed his leather jacket for the first time all year. The thrifted t-shirt he wears below it leaves his pale, tattoed arms on display. You can see the tendons in them pulsing every time he strums lazily at his acoustic guitar. His wild curls, more untamed than usual in such humidity, are pulled out of his face with one of your hair ties. A few stubborn strands stick to his face still — now a darker shade of brown, going damp from the sweat beading on his jaw and forehead.

You watch him tilt his head back to shake his bangs from his eyes, then smile to yourself when the attempt proves fruitless. His hair’s grown much too long now — enough to be perpetually frustrating. Not that Eddie cares to acknowledge it, anyway.

“I think it’s time for a haircut, Eds,” you try to tease, though the words come out strangely heavy on your tongue. They sound lightyears away as they spill from your mouth, and the thought alone makes you dizzy. Dizzier.

Eddie’s face, glimmering and softly flushed, screws in a boyish pout. “Don’t say that. You know I hate that word.”

“Look at your bangs, Eds! They’re way too long—”

The mattress squeaks softly under your weight when you go to reach for him. You’re barely able to sit upright without your head spinning. It’s like you blink once, and suddenly you’re underwater — vision blurry, ears ringing, the world swimming with various indistinct shapes. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and sit back again.

It takes Eddie a moment too long to notice.

“No, they’re not— See?” He pauses his strumming to muss at his curls. His ringed fingers tousle his already frizzy bangs to get them out of his eyes. He smiles all cheeky at you then, as he glances at you over his shoulder. His smile ebbs at the twisted look on your face. “Hey… You okay?”

“Yeah,” you answer immediately, though the pinched look to your features never wavers. 

“Okay. Yeah,” Eddie nods. “But… Are you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut until it hurts — until blue and white stars start to twinkle in the nothingness. But even in the quote-unquote nothingness, you can still feel the world spinning around you. It’s like you’re on a sailboat in the middle of the ocean, swaying in time with the rocky tides even though you’re sitting still. The notion makes your swimmy head spin. 

“Yeah,” you repeat, pitched higher this time as you dig your palms into your eye sockets. A feeble attempt to ease the dizziness. “I just— I just got a little dizzy all of a sudden. But I’m fine.”

Eddie starts reeling immediately. “Shit. Are you… Are you gonna pass out?” he stammers and rises suddenly from the bed. He leaves his guitar at his feet as he rushes to you. The mattress bounces under you and makes you feel sicker. His panicking makes you feel sicker, too.

“I don’t think so,” you answer, voice quiet and faraway.

“You don’t think so?” Eddie echoes as he looms at your side. 

You can’t see him, but you know he’s there. You can feel his shadow and the heat radiating from his lanky form. His ringed hands sit awkwardly out in front of him, aching to comfort you but frightened of making it worse. 

“Do you— Do you want me to do something? Do you need me to get you anything? Like… Like a glass of water or—”

“Eds. I’m fine,” you interject a bit too firmly for your poorly state. “It’ll pass, just… Just sit down.”

“I can’t,” he squirms. “You’re makin’ me nervous, babe.”

“Standing on top of me isn’t helping, Eds.”

The boy sits gingerly at your side, then. He doesn’t move a muscle as he waits for you to tell him what to do. Obedient but hardly patient. He tries not to fidget too much, lest he add to your unease, but he buzzes with worry in the meantime. He watches with his heart in his throat as you finally take your hands from your face.

His wide, chocolate eyes dart over your pallid features. “You okay?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” you hum in the affirmative, though you haven’t yet tried to open your eyes. 

The mattress feels less like a wobbling water bed now, but you’re still scared of what the world will look like — if everything will be slightly askew or flipped upside down entirely.

“Can you try to look at me?” the boy presses gently.

You peek one eye open and turn your chin to look at him. The subtle movement ends up being an obvious mistake. “Fuck,” you curse in a quiet murmur, shutting your eyes when the world goes staticky again.

“Don’t move so fast, babe. You’ll pass out,” Eddie chuckles despite the panicked ache in his chest. 

He moves slowly so as not to jostle you too much — lifting his arm to rest over your shoulder and pulling you very carefully to his chest. His free hand covers your eyes and rests over your temple. He squishes his cheek against your hair.

The humidity doesn’t often allow for such contact, but the heat isn’t nearly as strong as Eddie Munson’s love for you. He holds you close in spite of the slightly agonizing way your skin sticks together, fully content to melt with you completely.

“‘M not gonna pass out,” you murmur, words sitting heavy in your mouth.

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs. “‘Cause slurring your words like you’re drunk all of a sudden is real convincing, sweetheart.”

“M fine,” you insist anyway.

“Yeah?”

“Well, the world’s not spinning anymore, at least.”

“Good,” Eddie hums, smacking a chaste kiss to your head. “Lay down for me, alright? I wanna get you some water. And maybe something salty. That shit’s supposed to help, isn’t it?”

You whine in protest when he starts to move. Less because of how faint you are, and more because of how little you want him to leave. 

“No. Later. Don’t move,” you grouse.

“I gotta make sure you’re alright, babe,” the boy laughs through the warmth blooming in his chest, a sparkling sort of pride perhaps, as you curl further into his side.

“I’m fine right now,” you mumble tiredly. “But if you stop holdin’ me like this, I won’t be.”

“Ah, right…” Eddie sighs in defeat. “Guess I’m stuck here then, huh?”

You nod slowly, cheek rubbing along the cotton fabric of his shirt. “Mhm.”

He smiles softly to himself, wider than he usually allows, ‘cause there’s nothing metal about being a lovesick puppy. But, in truth, he’s happy to be stuck here with you — even with your swimmy head and humid air and clicking desk fan that’s hardly working now. The circumstances a mildly inconvenient, sure, but he’d take a billion inconvenient circumstances if it meant getting to be with you.

Lovesick puppy, indeed.

[luveline]

hiii jade!! are you planning to do any pregnant!reader x sirius

don't mind me i'm a sucker for sirius fluff 🤭

Sirius blows into your ear gently. “You’re falling asleep.” 

You’ve moved into his lap like a cheap tent badly pitched. Your neck hurts, your face against your own shoulder, but the brunt of your weight held up by your antagoniser. Sirius doesn’t complain about your elbow in his stomach or your cheek on his chest, but his embrace isn’t free, clearly. It comes with teasing. 

“I’m not.” 

“You are, my love.” 

You tamp down a full body shiver. How nice it is to be so warm and be held so closely. His arms encircle your front firmly but casual all the same. He never seems shy about anything.

“Do I look bulbous?” you question.

James hears it from the kitchen table. “Afraid so!” 

“No,” Sirius says, ignoring his cruel friend. He brings his hand to your stomach and covers as much of your bump as he can, which isn’t much. “Stupid question.” 

“Are you going to come and help at any point, mate?” James calls. “Or shall I install your cabinets by myself?” 

“In a minute, Prongs!” He kisses your cheek. “My girl needs a minute, don’t you?” 

“I’m okay.” 

Sirius hums and shifts you closer to his chest. He’s been even sweeter than usual lately. You worried it might freak you out if he was going to keep treating you like a fragile, breakable thing, even give you a smarmy feeling —you’re pregnant, not incapable. But it’s all been well-received. Honestly, you could do with more moments like this, but you won’t tell him that, and he won’t hold it over your head that he knows. 

“He can do it himself anyways. I just hold the screws.” Sirius touches your stomach. “How’s the kicking?” 

“You can feel it if you go a little higher.” 

“Yeah?” His hand climbs slowly upward, waiting for the little kicks. He presses down firmly, the only sign he’s felt your baby’s movements a catch in his breath. “There he is. Oh, fuck, he’s really going for it tonight. Jesus Christ.” 

“It’s fine. I like him kicking like that. Less pressure on everything else.” 

Sirius grins and draws a line under the kicks with a proud hand. “You need anything before I go help the nuisance?” he asks. 

You tip your head back, pouting for a kiss you receive in less than a second. He’s rough in his way, gentle as he moves back and chucks you under the chin. “Get off me, then,” he says. 

You laugh and flop onto your side. He pats your hip as he goes, not going far.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Historical Au: Slave!Jinwoo x Noble!Reader ◛⑅˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 036 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Slavery, Violence, Yandere Jinwoo, Familial Abuse, strong language. Please don't read this fic if it is triggering or uncomfortable for you. I do not condone slavery nor do encourage such acts. This is simply a work of fiction ]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Cai Bot Link ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Devotion or Obsession? ] ¡! ❞

"A gift for you, my dear child" Your father mused as an 18 year old teenager, tattered and chained, was dragged to the floor and forced to kneel in-front of you Jinwoo looked up at you with expressionless gray eyes, his face was covered in dirt and his shirt was extremely filthy. "Hi." Jinwoo greeted you humbly.

"Father!" You shrieked, flicking the fabrics of your dress as you hurriedly knelt towards the slave and tried to support his limp figure.

He was hardly even concious with his bleary and sleepy eyes, his clothes are covered in grime and dirt as his face was dusted with blood and something else. He looked not much older nor younger than you, and yet all this man was made of was skin and bones.

"Why so upset, my dear?" Your father sneers, humming as he swirls a glass of wine in his his hand. "It's your birthday after all. Daddy thought that should be gifted, no?"

"But I didn't ask for a slave or anything at all!" You protest, only to be met by a domineering glare that instantly made you close your mouth.

"Be grateful, you goddamn pig" He bites, making you feel even more terrified than you older were. "If it weren't for the fact your fucking wench of a mother making a goddamn fuss before dying you wouldn't be here. The least you could do is accept whatever the fact I give you"

He calms down, continuing "That child was only a few silver coins. If you dont want him I could always give him to your sisters or work him to death."

"N-no!" You protest immediately, shivering at the thought of what your father might decide to do. "I-I'll keep him... I'll take care of him."

"There's a good girl," He chuckles, "Start with the imprinting."

You gulp, anxiously looking at Jinwoo who was tired beside you, he looked like he just wanted to to be done with everything.

"Your... Uhm..." His eyes would sweep towards you with an empty grey gaze. "Name?"

"Jinwoo." He says shortly.

"Alright, uhm, Jinwoo..." You hold your palm out. "It'll tickle, I have't done this before s-so—"

"It's fine." He cuts you off, stretching his scarred left hand towards yours and pressing it together.

You tremble at the touch, not of disgust— But instead you were nervous. If you screw this up, you might get another beating or worse,... Something might happen to Jinwoo.

So with the little mana you hold; you started pouring energy out as a soft gentle light comes as the brilliant and pretty things somehow turned into pitch black and purple shadows— Twisting and churning before attaching themselves to both of your ring fingers.

Jinwoo seemed unamused, but your father certainly was.

"Now, get out of my sight" Your father simply said after recovering from the spectacle. "Your sisters are about to arrive, you bring a sour expression to their wonderful faces, so leave"

You could only respond with a polite bow as you helped Jinwoo up to his feet and guided him out of the main house.

There wasn't even a carriage prepared for the both of you as you silently walked towards the far west inside a forest and then finally arriving at a crude but somehow decent looking manor.

Jinwoo watched and followed you as you guided him to a dusty bedroom and sat him down before fetching a small chest with ointments and bandages. Though his gaze was still empty, he was looking at you with curiosity, wondering why exactly you're doing this.

"I'm your slave," Jinwoo breaks the silence. "Aren't you supposed to leave this to your servants?"

"Hahah... Sorry." You apologize, making him quirk up an eyebrow. "Your master is pathetic, I have no servant in my name."

He doesn't question that situation, instead asking; "Then why do it yourself? I can patch myself up just fine."

"Maybe... Because I feel guilty?" You fidget, applying ointment on him after wiping his arm. "It's my... Birthday and yet because of it you're here. I'm sorry."

"Don't." He simply said, not meeting your eyes as he looks out to the distant skies. outside your broken window. "It's not your fault. And besides, here is better than just wherever."

The silence ensues, nothing much being said any further as you directed Jinwoo to an empty room. He was given a decent place to sleep in. It was odd, since this bedroom seemed more comfortable compared to yours that was even more shabby and dusty.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It an odd situation, not once did you have ever treat Jinwoo as a slave, you were often on your own in your little garden at the backyard and farming vegetables for both of you to eat.

Jinwoo actively avoided you for quite a while, before deciding that since he lives with you and is technically leeching off of you— He might as well be useful.

And in those days where he helped you, the walls that Jinwoo had built around himself crumbled the more time passed by.

For a while, he was happy, you were happy.

You were both happy.

That was until you had to attend a gathering with your family that had abandoned you.

Of course, you had to dress in your shabby and outdated dress, to which everyone in the ballroom responds with mockery and spite. Jinwoo expected it, sure he's mad, but there's nothing he could do since he is nothing more but a damn slave who cant even defend his own master.

With heads hung low like cowards, the both of you decided to just stay in a corner and be as far away from any and all interactions. It went well for the first hour.

Admiring the brilliant lights and listening to wonderful music around you. Nobility is truly such a beautiful thing, golden plates, silver spoons, brilliant and gleaming jewels stitched into fine fabrics made by highly respectable and sought after tailors.

Jinwoo wanted to admire the scene with you, he truly did.

After all, he spent most of his days being dragged through the mud, his body being flogged over and over just for the fun of a drunk knight, or worse— Hard labour with only a piece of bread you can barely chew on due to how hard it is.

Compared to the grueling days he spent sleeping on the dirt, compared to the devastation he had as he cradled his dearly beloved little sister's corpse when she died of starvation— The sight of these luxurious tiles is mercy upon his pitiful soul.

...

Jinwoo's face drained of it's colours as he watches your elder sister yell at you for simply trying to greet her. A simple greet.

That was all it took for you to be on your knees frantically saying sorry with your voice as humble and as quiet as it can be.

He felt so hopeless, so frozen as he sees your pretty face scrunch in grief at your own actions that isnt even in the wrong in the first place.

So why must you kneel? Why must you humiliate yourself like this?

They stare at you with those sly eyes, as if finding your misery a source of entertainment. Sneers and chuckles would come with each insult being thrown your way.

Was it your fault you were born as the bastard child of the duke when it was your father who willingly went to brothels and slept with multiple women. It wa sonly your mother who stepped up confidently to demand your father to take you in despite the fact that she is currently dying of birth complications. Your mother did all of that just so you could live a comfortable life.

And instead here you were, being punished over something you didn't do.

Isn't family supposed to love eachohter? Jinwoo loved his baby sister so much. So why is he watching another older sibling throw wine at their own blood just for breathing?

Jinwoo felt so... Devastated, his dear companion, his master. His own master— Is being ridiculed right in front of him.

The person he was sold to, the person who took care of him—

"Don't touch him, eonnie!" You scream, throwing yourself right in front of Jinwoo despite the fact you're already soaking wet from the wine splattered all over your pretty face and your already ruined dress. "Please, he's innocent. He's imprinted to me, but he shouldn't receive any punishment. We'll go, eonnie, we'll go. Please don't touch him."

You're protecting him.

That bastard woman would have continued her assault if it werent for her dear father stopping her and saying it's a waste of time dealing with a bunch of lowlifes.

Thus, the two of you were escorted— No, thrown out the main palace.

Jinwoo followed behind you towards the path of your shabby manor, and as the blowing wind caressed your skins,... You broke down.

"Sorry, sorry, Jinwoo." You sob as the man threw his arms around you. "I'm sorry, it was my fault, you shouldn't have seen that. I'm so sorry, Jinwoo. I really am. Please forgive me. Don't be mad at me.

"Why are you asking me those questions?" He asks, his soft voice barely even able to control his trembling voice. "You're my owner, shouldn't I be begging for forgiveness?"

"No, no," You sob even louder.

And Jinwoo couldn't do anything else but comfort you.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo didnt know how, but he managed to put you into sleep right after taking you home. He delivered some spare clothes to you for you to change in. He tucked you in under the shabby blankets and watched over you.

His gaze was stuck on you, contemplating deeply while guilt slowly clawed at his heart.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

"You'll get her killed." A voice suddenly says, and Jinwoo shot up, blocking his arm in front of you as you slept.

"Who—"

"Shut up"

The voice suddenly came from behind him, and when Jinwoo looked back— He could see a pair of purple eyes glaring at him. He can't quite see the face of the man, it was too pitch black and the moon isnt out tonight. He tried grabbing the vase on the sidetable but something had stopped him.

He can't quite tell, but it was as if the air itself is holding him back as those wicked and colr purple eyes glanced at him from the darkness right beside your sleeping form.

"You really think a damn vase can scare off an intruder?" The man scoffs. "You're pathetic."

"Who are you?" Jinwoo asks again, struggling to move as quiet murmurs surrounded him.

"Some guy" He answers.

"You must be one of those—"

"Ssh." The purple eyes gaze up at him again. "You'll wake the princess up with your voice."

Jinwoo shut his mouth, biting down on his lip as once again he felt so utterly hopeless. Not to mention the air around the stranger was absolutely wicked and somehow... Demonic? Otherwordly?

It was a feeling akin to staring at the abyss, the unkown that makes your skin crawl and itch.

That man is dangerous.

Dangerous But Not Hostile.

"That sister of hers," The man starts, his voice a little tense. "Will get her killed in a few years."

"Excuse me?"

"She'll die, and her blood will be on you, Jinwoo" He grits his teeth. "Just like your sister's who died from starvation, just like your mother who died from sickness, just like your father who died in your arms saving you from a bandit— Her blood will be on your hands just like theirs that is already on you."

"....."

"So quiet, now, huh? You're crying?" He sneers, the voice suddenly coming from behind him. "Crying wont do you any good, you fucking idiot."

"So what exactly do you want me to do?" Jinwoo yells, struggling as he tried to face the man. "I'm not strong, I'm built like a twig. I'm trying, okay? But I'm just a slave. This house is goddamn shabby, I've been trying to fix everything but it's lacking. I can barely even help in the farm, not to mention it's almost winter soon and if she wont die by that bitch's hands then she'll die because of this house! What the hell do you think I can do? I'm trying here and nothing is working!"

"...."

Of course he doesn't want to be in this situation either. Who does? He already lost his family, his blood, his precious kin— All gone and he couldnt do anything about. It was a hopeless situation. Of course, he tried getting a job in the capital since you let him roam as he pleases. He tried some odd jobs, several of them ranging from ordinary helper jobs to cleaning shoes to seeling newspapers; nothing is working.

He lost his family because of his weakness, and because of that same weakness he'll loose you too.

"Hypothetically, you are given a guide to becoming extremely strong to protect her but in the process you loose your sanity along the way as well as your emotions" The voice says, his footsteps echoing in the quiet room as he walked around Jinwoo like a ghost. "How far are you willing to go?"

"Farther than the limit."

"Even if you lose your limbs along the way?"

"Yes."

"Even if you get mauled by beasts?"

"Yes."

"Even if you go mad by the power you'll soon hold?"

"Yes."

"Even if you must become a murderer?"

"Yes."

"I'll do it."

"I'll do it all for her sake."

"Good" The voice hums, satisfied.

Jinwoo starts feeling dizzy, his legs giving in as he felt himself collapse on something soft.

"Protect her." The stranger's tone becomes gentle. "Where I failed to do so, be better than me. Devote yourself to her. Protect the heart that is more precious than anything in this world. Even if you go through hell, you must protect her. You must love her. Give her all the adoration you can ever give. Because I couldn't protect my princess. So don't make the same mistake."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo had received the system from that night ever since. He had been busy from then on, often going out in the day and coming back in the evenings tired but somehow... A little different.

He'd go on long trips sometimes, which you honestly didn't mind so long as he promises to come home.

Soon enough, that same lanky, 18 year old boy— Is suddenly a head taller than you that you physically have to strain your neck just so you can meet with him eye-to-eye. Jinwoo had become from a lanky boy to a different person in just a blink of an eye in a matter of months.

Each long week he disappears; he comes back even more mature and lax in his demeanour. THe next thing you knew, Jinwoo enrolled himself as a hunter.

You're proud of him, of course you are.

That's your Jinwoo.

Your precious, precious and sweet Jinwoo who always stuck by your side even if you are a noble who had no servant to her name and a manor fit to be deemed as a haunted home.

The wealth would soon come pouring in with each succesful hunt Jinwoo goes through. And the more powerful his bounties were, the more famous he became. The money he accumulated directly went into rebuilding the shabby manor into an opulent home worthy of a duke's daughter. Your filthy, ragged dresses were replaced by finely crafted fabrics. Your neck and ears would be adorned in the meek but captivating jewelry.

Of course, he still had that title of slave over his head but weirdly enough... Jinwoo seemed to carry it as a badge of honor.

Why?

Because he was yours.

What's he is yours.

Naturally, jealous eyes come your way as the your dear hunter is now the most sought after. Who wouldn't want him anyway? Tall, handsome, a hunter— He is the embodiment of what is lusted for with a man.

And yet he never once bat an eye to those arrogant nobles who offered him the finest of fine wealth could ever give.

Love letters from all over the kingdom pine for your precious Jinwoo.

And yet he still chose you.

Those steely grey eyes of him would solely be for you and you only.

He looked a you like you are his precious goddess.

You Jinwoo is so... So Innocent and lovely.

Even as he held your father's severed head on his hand.

Even as a pool of blood puddled beneath his feet. Even as his grey orbs have turned purple. Even as the opulent pearl tiles reflected his maddened figure.

Your Jinwoo is just so... So lovely.

His heart, oh, his heart belonged to you. His innocent, pretty little master who looks up at him with a bewildered but awestruck gaze— He knew you weren't mad.

"I did it all for you, princess" Jinwoo would coo, cupping your face and swiping his thumb affectionately over cheek. "They were trying to make you cry again. We can't have that"

He whispers, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "After all, I am yours. We're already binded by a contract. Even if it didn't exist I'd still choose the same choice I have made now."

He holds up his hand, pressing his palm against yours as the tattooes rings on your ring fingers glowed purple.

"See? Even our mark is like wedding rings" He intertwines your fingers together before bringing it up to his lips and kissing the mark on you. "It's okay. It's okay. This is for your own good."

"This is all for your sake, my precious god."

"This bloodbath is an offering for you."

꒰ A/N: idk what I made nor do I wanna know. The plot is all over the place wheeze. I'm quaking at writer's block. I should not write for Jinwoo until I get the energy back. I'm so mindblocked with him maybe it's because I cant draw fanart of him atm. ahhhhhhhhhh ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[the-modern-typewriter]

could you write something about a vampire intentionally scaring a human? any reason works! your vampires are so fun to read 🥰

"I know you've been trying to scare me!"

"Oh?"

"It's n-not working!"

"Oh?" The vampire's eyes, in the dark and the moonlight, had the bone white gleam of a cat's. "Your heart is racing."

The protagonist swallowed. They jutted up their chin, no matter how foolish it was to further bare their throat to a vampire, even when that vampire was their older brother. "You're not going to hurt me. You'd never hurt me!"

The vampire's fangs slid out. "You really think so?"

He hopped down, off the windowsill and through the open window into the bedroom. It reminded them of all the times, growing up, that their brother had snuck back into the house through their bedroom window.

This somehow didn't feel quite the same as that, nor did the protagonist feel as unshakably safe as they had expected.

They'd always felt safe around Nick before, but it was like their brother's face had completely changed from what they recognised. His eyes burned with a cold and inhuman thirst, features too sharp and too weirdly lovely.

The protagonist took a step back, bumping into the edge of the bed behind them. "You're trying to drive me off to protect me! To get me to keep my distance."

"Am I?" The vampire straightened. He seemed to loom, despite casting no shadow, no reflection in the bedroom mirror.

The protagonist edged around the bed, keeping their attention locked on the vampire. "Uhuh."

"And yet you haven't run."

"You're my brother."

"You're an idiot."

"Runs in the family."

"Mm. How...delicious."

The protagonist's breath hitched. "Mum and dad will be furious if you hurt me."

"Mum and dad are just thrilled to have me back, have me home. Don't you know that I'm a miracle?"

The protagonist scrambled back, nearly tripping up over their gym bag on the floor.

The vampire didn't laugh, as the protagonist had half expected him to.

It was true that their parents had been - well. They definitely didn't want to hear all the reasons why it was impossible for Nick to be totally okay. All the reasons he wasn't quite like the Nick they knew. That was just going away to uni, right? Growing up! Nick was fine and all of the family's prayers had been answered.

Their older brother had always been the perfect one, so what did it matter now if he looked a little too perfect? If he moved with a little too much grace and speed?

"Don't you know," the vampire continued, "that they won't do a thing to protect you from me? They don't want me to kill you, of course not...but if there's a blood source in the family....I mean, that's convenient, right? No need to create gossip. I have to eat."

"So you are trying to scare me into leaving!"

"I'm telling you the truth about your intended purpose in this family."

"You won't hurt me, though."

"So you keep saying." The vampire prowled closer. "You must have really loved me when I was still alive."

The protagonist clenched their jaw, glaring, because it was better than flinching. "You're being stupid. Stop it."

"You're being stupid, stop it," the vampire mimicked. It always used to piss them off when their brother mocked them like that - but the voice was too accurate, too good a copy now. He didn't do that thing of making it unrealistically high pitched. His voice was too smooth. Too Not-Nick's.

Screw it.

The protagonist whirled for the bedroom door.

They'd barely turned before the vampire was there, blocking the way, leaning against the threshold. Casual.

The protagonist's heart lurched.

"Scared yet?" the vampire asked.

"No," the protagonist lied.

"Mm." The vampire was in front of them in the next blink, tilting the protagonist's head back to their expose their throat.

"W-wait!"

"Yes?"

"I'm scared." Their voice was small, pathetically so. The same voice as when they'd woken their brother up down the hall because there was a storm, or got a bad grade on a test and didn't want to bring it home to their parents and their brother found them crying. Nick had always covered for them. Always done their best to make the scary stuff go away.

It wasn't right.

"Yes," the vampire said, softly. His other hand rose, cupping the protagonist's face, giving an almost reassuring squeeze. His smile, sharp-toothed as it was, was not remotely reassuring. "I know."

Then, before the protagonist could say anything else, they bit.

The protagonist ran that night.

[updownlately]

save your tears, it’ll be okay (all i know is you’re here with me)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 5.1k | a/n: this video's been living rent free in my head for a minute now so i thought i'd write about it. this was originally supposed to be a blurb but oh well. no plot just comfort. definitely not my best work, but we move. happy reading 🫶

~~~

You weren’t thinking as you watched the events unfold in front of you.

You weren’t thinking as you immediately started back tracking, sprinting to where you had just run from.

You weren’t thinking as you skidded to a stop beside Leah, mind a frenzy, panic clear on your face as your hand immediately went to rest on the blonde’s shoulders. 

All you knew was you had to make sure she was okay, something that you knew she definitely wasn’t.

You knew the last corner ball sent in had hit her in the face, but you hadn’t seen just how badly it had hit her. 

You had watched with mild concern as you saw her pinch the bridge of her nose afterwards, jogging up to her as you ran back to your defensive half, quietly asking her if she was truly okay as you matched her step for a brief moment.

Not fully convinced when she waved off your worries, you had cautiously taken her word for truth, hesitantly double checking but not pressing, for fear of being overbearing.

But as you watched in horror as Leah fell to her knees shortly after, head hung low in pain, you wondered if you maybe should’ve asked her to pause for a minute. 

Maybe you should’ve gotten her to take a breather. Maybe you should’ve asked her to look up at you. Because then maybe you would’ve seen the dazed look in her eyes, would’ve seen the way her face was wretched in pain. 

Maybe then, you would’ve been there to catch her as she fell forwards, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

But for now you’d settle for being by her side, the pounding in your chest increasing with worry as you did your best to steady the other woman, only moving slightly as the medics came in to check on her. 

Taking measured breaths to try and stop your heart from climbing up your throat, you watched nervously as the blonde didn’t lift her head as the medics checked her out, her weight resting on her closed fists as she barely moved. 

The fact that she had a concussion was clear as day- the way the english skipper refused to move her head, eyes screwed shut in a somewhat successful attempt to block out the surrounding light, slipping in out of consciousness as she was forced into a sitting position, being propped up by you and another team medic. 

Watching carefully as the blonde finally came to a slightly more coherent state, you kept your eyes firmly on her as she faltered through the basic series of on-pitch tests. 

Guessing randomly that she was at a training, unable to tell what day it was or what had just happened, and the clear dizziness as she tried to stand up in an futile attempt to convince you all that she was okay, never mind the increased irritability, it seemed that even she knew she was about to be ushered off, shooting you a pout as you lifted an arm of hers over your shoulder to stabilise her. 

“‘m fine. I can play…” the mumbled words directed at you were followed immediately by her staggering slightly, a groan escaping her lips as she swallowed hard and steadied herself. 

Sighing at the stubbornness you were well familiar with, you nodded along to the statement, keeping your voice low as you responded so as to not worsen the headache you just knew the blonde had, even though she didn’t say it.

“They’re just gonna check you out, yeah? Make sure you’re all a-okay before you come back.”

Even through the fog that clouded her mind, the defender could see right through your bullshit.

“If I go…I can’t play.”

The blonde just barely managed to mumble the words out, wrinkles littering her forehead as she tried her hardest to sound coherent.

Stopping in her tracks to prevent the inevitable, Leah planted herself to the ground, mere metres from the edge of the field.

Trying to nudge her to move along, you stepped forward, only to be pulled back abruptly by the arm over your shoulder.

“No.”

“Leah…” Pleading, you looked over your shoulder to see the ref patiently waiting near the middle of the field, eyeing the pair of you as she waited for the Gooner to exit off the pitch so that play could resume.

“No,” the blonde repeated, obstinate, the trainers around you two looking at you imploringly.

Trying again, you tried to be firm, not wanting to annoy the blonde but still get your point across.

“Leah, you’re hurt and you’ve got to get off the pitch- it’s not up for debate.”

Keeping a straight face, you did your best to put on a hard facade. 

You watched as the girl hesitated for a second, nearly stepping forwards before pausing and standing still again, this time turning towards you and then the pitch, trying to move towards her position on the field.

Frustrated at the clear dismissal, you gently tugged Leah back towards you, catching her as she stumbled ever so slightly.

Lowering your voice just enough that your words would stay nestled between you, you brought Leah close to you.

“Leah, I’m not messing around. You’re headed off and that’s final. No ifs, no buts, especially if you don’t want to be sleeping alone for the next few days.”

“But-“

“Leah. Catherine. Williamson.”

The clear use of her full name was enough to cause the blonde to decide against any retort she had on the tip of her tongue, your rigid tone solidifying the decision for the blonde to listen to you, albeit quite annoyedly.

Muttering a quiet ‘fine’ as she turned around again, you sighed in relief. 

Quickly placing your hand on her cheek and gently turning her head to face you, you kissed the blonde on her forehead before stepping back.

“Be good to the trainers, yeah? I don’t wanna hear a single complaint from them.”

And with a relieved look crossing your face as you saw Leah nod meekly in response, you watched anxiously as she was led the last few metres off the pitch, you sprinting back to your position in midfield, eager for the game to move on quickly. 

The faster the game ended, the faster you could be beside your girlfriend. 

~~~

All that you could hear was the rapid clicking sound of your studs against tile echoing as you raced through the hallway. 

You’d made a break for the medical room as soon as the team had been dismissed from the field, foregoing meeting with the fans and the media, more important things for you to attend to- namely your girlfriend.

Reaching the medical room you were told Leah was in, you slowed to a stop, rapidly unlacing your cleats and slipping them off, opting to hold them as you walked in with only your socks.

Skipping the knocking for the same reason you took off your cleats, you instead cracked the door open slightly, softly calling out for your girlfriend, permission to enter granted as the blonde grunted in return.

‘Awwing’ audibly in sympathy, your shoulders dropped in relief at the sight of the blonde sitting up. 

Making your way to stand beside the cot she was resting on, you navigated the room slowly in the extremely dim light and dropped your cleats gently by your side, hands instinctively reaching out as you neared your girlfriend.

“How are we feeling little miss stubborn?”

Letting out a soft chuckle at the immediate pout that crossed the blue eyed girl’s face, you grabbed her hands in your own, thumbs coming to gently rub the back of her hands.

“Shite. Everything hurts.”

The skipper kept the words to a minimum, it still clearly taking a lot out of her for them to be said.

Shaking your head amusedly at the clearly concussed, stubborn individual you got the joy of calling your girlfriend, you huffed in amusement.

“But I thought you were perfectly fine?” you teased, not wanting to pass the opportunity to rub the blonde’s stubbornness in her face. 

God, she really needed to start listening to you more.

“Don’t…” 

The quiet plea combined with the midfielders head coming forward to rest against your chest had you immediately taking a more protective nature, one hand coming to rub her back in sympathy as another gently carded through her hair in an attempt to bring her some sort of reprieve from the pain. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” 

Bending down, you placed a small kiss on her temple, lips lingering for a second as relief washed over you.

She was okay. She was awake, and okay, and doing alright, minus a concussion.

You wouldn’t tell the blonde, but you had initially feared the worst when you had turned around to see her dropping to her knees, dazed and confused. 

Call it your anxiety, but the way your heart had sunk so deep, nearly burying itself beneath you, you’d felt so utterly terrified, nearly rooted to the spot if it hadn’t been for your adrenaline kicking in and causing you to sprint back across the field.

So for your own sake primarily (and then Leah’s), you stood there in the silence, revelling in the blonde’s touch as her hands loosely wrapped around your hips, you able to just barely feel her heartbeat as she sat slumped against your body. 

The intimacy of just being able to hold her, her messy mop of blonde hair sticking out in every direction as it pressed against your jersey had your breathing slowing to a peaceful lull. 

You knew that if it ever came down to it, all you’d ever want is the blonde in your arms, alive and well, regardless of what it meant for you or anyone else.

Closing your eyes as you stood there for a little while longer, you nearly let yourself forget where you were, the ease of the weight on your chest and the girl in your arms, your heaven on earth.

It was only when the team’s doc came in to brief you both (mainly you) on the injury, did you pull apart, only going as far as standing beside the blonde instead of in front of her, tucking her into your side as you listened intently. 

You needed to feel her touch, it reassuring you that she was, in fact, alright. 

Jotting down the key points the doctor mentioned into your phone’s notes app, you made a mental list of it all as well, one arm still firmly planted across the defender’s shoulders as she leaned against you. 

‘No bright lights, no screens, no alcohol, no caffeine, make sure to hydrate, eat healthy, and get plenty of rest’- plus a few more you had listed on your phone.

And as he told you that they’d suggested taking Leah to the hospital just to ensure that further medical attention wasn’t needed, you nodded in agreement, worrying as the blonde muttered about how she was feeling slightly nauseous. 

Pulling away from her, your eyes rolling fondly as the blonde whined in displeasure, you quickly grabbed your forgotten boots, straightening up immediately and beginning to help Leah stand. 

“Boots before me? Ouch?” 

The words were slurred as the blonde tried her best to string together a sentence and you couldn’t help but shake in laughter at her sad tone and pout.

“Love, it’s so I could help you walk without both of us toppling over…”

“Why take ‘em off anyways?”

Looking away as a red hue painted itself on your cheeks, you contemplated whether you should tell Leah the real reasoning, no doubt going to be mocked for how much of a simp you were- her words, not yours (damnit Beth for teaching her the word).

“I may or may not have taken them off so the clicking didn’t worsen your headache…”

“You’re cute…” 

The words were muttered quietly as the midfielder rested more of her weight on you, nearly fully leaning against you as she closed her eyes, blindly trusting you to lead her, a comical sight really- the taller blonde nearly smothering you with her weight.

Raising your eyebrows in surprise at the lack of a teasing comment, you shrugged and accepted Leah’s admission without much of a fight, wrapping your arm around her waist as you both slowly began to walk out.

If it wasn’t clear before, then you most definitely knew now that Leah Williamson had a concussion, the easy chance to tease you overlooked, leaving you surprised.

But, as you led the blonde out however, the pair of you slowly making your way to the locker room to collect your things, it appeared that you spoke too soon, much to your chagrin.

“God, you’re such a simp…”

The words were spoken clearly, the blonde clearly having waited for the right moment to say them, lulling you into a false sense of comfort, you able to feel the lazy grin on her face as her cheeks pressed against your shoulder.

Cheeky woman.

Rolling your eyes because of course you weren’t that lucky, you shook your head fondly, your annoyance at her comment clear as the smile on your face grew slightly with adoration.

“God you’re such a little shit…I love you too babe…”

~~~

It’s a few hours later that the two of you are pulling up to your shared home, you in the driver’s seat, a rare occasion if you were honest.

Having driven ever so carefully, Leah very much reminding you how much she loved her car, you had been laser focused on the road, albeit only one hand on the steering wheel as the other sat intertwined with Leah’s in her lap.

You weren’t a bad driver, not at all. But, having only sat passenger in this car, you had definitely been cautious about being behind the wheel for the first time.

“Honestly, I think I’ll stick to passenger princess…that was a headache and a half…” you groaned, putting the suv in park and running a hand through your hair.

Clicking open your seatbelt, you paused your movement as Leah spoke, her voice quiet.

“I know…never again…”

Her comment had you whipping your head up immediately, an incredulous look on your face as you threw your hands up, facing the taller girl slumped back in the passenger seat, an arsenal hoodie nearly covering her whole face.

“Hey. Not fair! I wasn’t bad, it was just…stressful.”

“Whatever you say…”

Shaking your head, you turned the car off, muttering to yourself playfully as you did so.

“How are you so annoying with a near third degree concussion? Surely you’d be knackered by now…”

After leaving the Arsenal medical room, you had both waited outside the locker room for a handful of minutes, watching as your teammates slowly filed out, many of them patting Leah encouragingly, murmuring a few teasing words and some that were encouraging. 

Even McCabe had managed to be nice, only going as far as mussing up the blonde’s hair before wishing her a speedy recovery, somehow miraculously managing to keep her voice at a reasonable decibel for the injured skipper.

You’d been leant against the wall, Leah pulled protectively to your chest, soft words of reassurance and comfort murmured to her in the passing moments, the two of you stood there patiently until you were absolutely sure the rest of the locker room was nearly empty, and most importantly, quiet. 

It was only then did you slowly lead the blonde in, settling her down for a few minutes as you took what had to be the quickest shower of your life.

Helping Leah with her jacket and slides and lending her the baseball cap you stored in your locker for bad hair days, you had quickly packed both your kits and made your way to the parkade. 

It was then that you had realized the conundrum that the injury brought upon- you’d have to drive home.

Now, driving wasn’t the issue. It was more so what you’d be driving- Leah’s car- a significantly larger suv compared to the sedan you typically drove. 

Coupled with the fact that you’d never driven this large of a vehicle around London’s smaller streets before, not for a lack of you trying- the damn thing was just too expensive for you to enjoy being behind the wheel like you normally would- you weren’t looking forward to the trip home.

And neither was the blonde apparently. 

It was only after a lot of convincing, grumpy looks, dejected sighs, and pinky promises of dinner and unlimited cuddles that Leah agreed to hand you her keys, unhappy about the outcome but wanting to go home.

And with that you had been off, headed to the hospital for a checkup on the concussion.

Having your suspicions confirmed during the visit, it was cemented that the blonde likely had a second, possibly third degree concussion.

With another list of do’s and don’ts written safely in your notes app, the two of you had finally taken off for home, nearly two and a half hours later.

It’s what led you to now, you making your way out of the car, rounding it as you opened Leah’s door to help the other girl out.

“Okay drunky, careful now…” you teased, hand coming to hold hers as you helped her out of the vehicle. 

“Y’know I’m not drunk…” the blonde grumpily stated, nevertheless taking your help as she slowly but surely made her way out. 

Shrugging in response as your eyes twinkled with mirth, you just hummed in confirmation as you shut the door behind her and made your way to the front door.

Unlocking it, you led her to sit down on the ottoman by your entryway, kneeling down to help unlace her muddy cleats- something you’d deal with later. 

“Gosh. Take a woman out to dinner first…”

You looked up from your knelt position just in time to see Leah’s poor attempt to roll her eyes, followed by a wince as her shoulder’s curled in at the pain that no doubt flashed through her head. 

“You’re insufferable. I hope you know that.”

“You love me anyways.”

Sighing in faux displeasure, you shrugged your shoulders.

“Sometimes I wonder why I do…” 

Pleased at the scowl that crossed the other girl’s face, you bit back your smile as you rose to stand.

“Not so fun when you’re on the other end now, is it?”

Silently laughing as she crossed her arms at your words, looking nearly like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the blonde’s head as you straightened, placing the dirty shoes on the mat by the shoe rack.

“I’m going to grab our bags, yeah? Don’t move from here.”

“And if I do?”

“Then I’d love to see exactly how far your old, concussed arse could crawl...”

Chuckling to yourself as you heard Leah sputter, you turned around to head back to the garage. 

“I’m only 8 months older!”

~~~

You couldn’t believe you managed it, but you somehow got Leah cleaned up and into a fresh set of clothes- the blonde now slumped on a barstool, head resting on the cool counter as you slowly shuffled around your dark kitchen. 

It had taken the bribery of letting her pick dinner (resulting in ham sandwiches for her of course) and letting her sit at the island, hence the dim hue of the range the only light on in the apartment- to get Leah to step into the shower for a quick wash, you keeping a close eye as you sat on the counter, ready to help if needed. 

After wrapping the midfielder-turned-defender in the fluffiest towel you could find afterwards, you had helped her dress into the comfiest pair of sweats you could find. 

It combined with you returning an old hoodie of hers that you’d borrowed eons ago, one that now smelled like you, much to the blonde’s liking, all that was left to focus on was having a bit of food before the two of you headed to bed for some much needed rest. 

“Would you be mad if I told you I wasn’t feeling hungry?”

The soft words have you stopping your tracks, a nearly assembled sandwich glaring at you as you stared at it, contemplating your next move.

“If you’re not hungry I won’t force it down your throat, but I do ask that you have a few bites.”

“My head hurts too much…just wanna sleep.”

Eyebrows furrowing in concern, you grabbed the plate and a glass of water and made your way towards the blonde, gently putting the sad excuse of a ham sandwich in front of her, grimacing at just how plain it looked. 

Placing a comforting hand on the other girl’s shoulder you rubbed gentle circles and kept your voice low. 

“Three good bites, yeah? And then you’re all done.”

Seeing Leah gingerly lift her head and eye the sandwich warily, you held your breath.

You really needed her to eat, even if it was just a few bites. The last meal she had was nearly six hours ago, before the game. 

“It might not stay down…”

Gentle concern taking a hold of you, you tried not to let your worry seep into your voice.

“That’s alright. If it stays down, great. And if it doesn’t, then so be it. I just need you to have a little bit so I won’t worry when you sleep.”

You figured if you could convince her she wouldn’t throw up, then she just might not.

Letting out a small sigh of relief as you watched the blonde nod in understanding and pick up the sandwich to take a small bite, you relaxed into your own seat, your own sandwich you had prepared earlier waiting for you. 

Sitting in the peaceful silence, the pair of you made quick work of your basic dinner, you finishing yours off as Leah picked at hers, managing to get a little under halfway through until she set the sandwich down and began to rest her head on your shoulder. 

“Lee?”

You kept your voice low, wrapping a gentle arm around her shoulder as you rubbed it soothingly in an attempt to bring her comfort. 

Hearing the blonde grumble in response only to nuzzle closer to you, barstool scraping against tile as her forehead went to rest in the crook of your neck, you couldn’t help but smile amusedly.

Of course the big, scary, stern English skipper was an absolutely softie- an oh-so-fluffy teddy bear- at heart. 

Bringing your hand to lovingly comb through her hair, you let Leah have her moment, content with passing a few minutes providing her the comfort she craved.

Moments like these- minus the concussion- were your favourite if you were honest.

Times where it was just you and your girl, one in the other’s arms searching for a comfort you knew would only be found with your other half, the tender blanket of your love wrapping the pair of you up, did you finally understand what all the poets and artists would rave about.

It was as you could feel her relaxed heart beat against yours, small puffs of breath fanning the expanse of your neck or the top of your head did you realize what feeling ‘light’ meant. 

Wrapped up in her arms on days that felt just a tad bit too hard was when you understood what having a rock, a constant support, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to grab, always and forever was.

And when you got to hold her- the few times that you would- each time it would hit you like a truck, the understanding that you’d die for her but you’d also fight anyone who tried to take her peace away, without a second though, wanting to wrap her in a bubble of happiness for the rest of her life, only a smile on her face if you were in charge of the universe.

Snapping out of your thoughts as you felt the blonde shuffle, the barstools most definitely not made for the tangle of limbs the pair of you were, your smile didn’t leave your face as you quickly placed another comforting kiss on the blonde’s temple.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

~~~

“Stay.”

The single word had you stopping in your tracks.

You were headed to the bathroom after having helped Leah settle in.

Deciding early on that you’d get her sorted first so she could get her much needed rest in peace, and you be able to actually cleanse your face with a light on, you’d tucked her into bed, kissing her cheek with the promise of only being gone a few minutes. 

Ignoring the whine of protest you got, you figured she’d get over your brief absence rather quickly.

You were proven wrong however, the quiet utterance laced with a desperation you’d never heard tugging at your heart strings ever so persistently. 

Turning around to face the blonde in the dim light of the moon, your shoulders dropped at the absolutely miserable look on her face, one eye barely open as she looked at you pleadingly. 

“Three minutes, yeah? I’ll be back before you know it.”

Squeezing her hand, you nearly sprinted to the bathroom, and began running through your night time routine, easily making the decision to skip a handful of skincare steps- you had more important things to take care of anyways. 

Brushing your teeth and washing your face, you listened carefully for any sounds of discomfort from the other girl, relaxing marginally as it seemed that the day was finally catching up to her. 

Leah wasn’t the overly affectionate type, so to have her press you to stay, you’d be lying if it didn’t kill you a little inside. 

It’s why you ended up tucking yourself into your side of the bed within two minutes and fifty-three seconds of your promise, with seven seconds to spare on your watch and a proud smile on your face as you invitingly opened your arms. 

And with the way Leah immediately snuggled up to you, head tucked easily into the crook of your neck, her arm coming to wrap around your stomach as her leg came to rest across your torso, you knew you made the right call. 

*********

Your bedroom felt oddly quiet with the pin-drop silence that covered it as night descended. 

With only Leah’s and your gentle breathing to be heard as she tucked herself into your side, you let your shoulders relax, wrapping your arm around her waist as you pulled her closer. 

Nights spent together were rarely this quiet for you two. 

They more often than not consisted of gentle murmurs and jokes, the blonde always, and you mean always, finding one way or another to tease you or get on your nerves. 

And if it wasn’t the lot of you annoying each other good-naturedly to your wits ends, it was soft murmurs, dreams quietly being spoken into existence as you discussed your futures, your plans, ideas, goals. 

Careers, education, kids, dream wedding, homes, families, champions league games, world cups- nothing was off the table as you’d both be cuddled up into each other, a head on a chest or the barest of space as you two laid on your sides in the dim moonlight. hands intertwining with each other in the space between your bodies as promises of a ‘forever’ kind of love were whispered between chaste kisses and soft touches. 

Of course you had other nights, where the hours bled into one another, the pair of you only falling asleep when matching sated smiles crossed your faces, an early night turning to a late one, the rising sun signalling for you to go to bed. 

But right now? 

Right now, as pitch black darkness covered your room, you wondered if this was what true, unconditional love was like. 

Missing the ordinary, the mundane that you never thought you would once achieve- it now something you felt odd without, a hole in your heart- yet you didn’t mind. 

You didn’t mind if the rest of your nights went like this- curtains drawn shut, not a single sliver of moonlight peeking through.

You didn’t mind the silence (yes, you missed your late night confessions with the blonde but you’d survive without them). 

And you definitely didn’t mind the way Leah was curled up into you, a sight you didn’t see often, her typically the bigger spoon, but one you wished to ingrain into your memory. 

Swallowing hard as you realized you were a safe space for the blonde- a safe haven for her to heal whilst she trusted you to keep her well, you let your fingertips absentmindedly trace gentle patterns into her back. 

You knew she wasn’t asleep, she never fell asleep easily, hence chattering your ear off (not that you ever minded- though you wouldn’t tell her, teasing her for her late night energy always amusing). 

“How you feeling bub?”

Feeling her exhale deeply against you, you nearly audibly awed as she sunk impossibly closer.

“Head still hurts, but better now.”

“Yeah?”

Feeling her nod, you hummed in response, choosing to close your eyes and let the day wash over you. 

What you didn’t account for in your attempt to relax was the mumbled statement that came your way.

“These next few weeks are going to be weird…”

Well aware of how much the English woman breathed football, you nodded in understanding. 

“They probably will be, and nothing can be done about it. but, I can promise you infinite cuddles, kisses, and snackies to make up for it?”

Feeling Leah nod sluggishly at your words, you squeezed her waist gently, letting out a deep breath as you mentally reminded yourself she was okay. 

You knew she was right- these next few weeks were going to be weird, but you were damned if you were going to let the blonde suffer through her concussion alone, very much ready to be at her beck and call, her rock through the storm. 

Feeling your heartbeat match Leah’s slow inhales and exhales, you closed your eyes as your hold on her got a tad bit stronger, grounding you, and your touch grounding her, as the both of you let the comfort of each other lull you to sleep.

She’d be okay. She was okay. It would all be okay, with her beside you, snuggled up into your hold.

All would be okay as long as she was with you.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Gym Shorts (Discord Drabble)

Eddie secures his black bandanna on his head and licks his lips in anticipation.

He thinks he should probably do some star jumps or something.

That's what jocks do, right? Get all pumped up and possibly too sweaty and exhausted before a game of good ol' fashion Laundry Baskets?

That's right, he's here to... He gulps up at the basketball hoop... Play a round of baskets with Steve.

He glares at the hoop – hanging there all mockingly over his head like the Sword of Fucking Democles as his mind conjures up images of Steve sweating, what usually makes Steve sweat when Eddie has anything to do with it –

" – You ready?"

His opponent sounds rightfully cocky and Eddie remembers his worry, his nerve endings twisting up as his pea-brain melts into a swirling vortex of memories of gym class.

Jocks yelling at him... Coach Summers and that dumb whistle of his (Eddie did tell the asshole where he could shove it on more than one occasion)... The awkward rituals of the locker room – the fine line between trying to keep to himself and not being too isolated and weird about it... Sticking close to Jeff, who at least had the cred of being on the Swim Team...

But those thoughts quickly fall onto the scorching-hot asphalt of the Harrington's driveway when Eddie turns around and is confronted by Steve's shorts.

They are teeny-tiny, like a pair of green hot-pants that have been painted on. Eddie is sure his eyes pop out of his skull and burst into nothingness like he is some sort of Looney Tunes character as he looks down, further down and fully takes in... well...

Steve isn't exactly looking all that modest in these life-ruining, heart-exploding shorts, is the thing.

In fact, Eddie can see the outline of his boyfriend's dick.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" he blurts as his attention snaps back up to Steve's face.

He presses the back of his hand to his clammy forehead, his stupid bandanna doing nothing as the summer heat overwhelms him.

Steve smirks, "Just my gym shorts."

He puffs out his chest, which is covered by an equally form-fitting yellow tank top.

"Oh, really?" Eddie is supposed to sound annoyed, but it comes out a little more like he is gasping for air. He folds his arms and adds, "And you always wear this very ensemble for a casual game of Sporting Ball?"

"Mhmm," Steve nods emphatically, a glint twinkling in his gorgeous brown eyes.

Eddie purses his lips and tucks his balled-up fists in his armpits, folding in on himself as he succumbs to his –

Steve props a hand on his hip and turns around, popping out his ass as he goes. Twirling like a goddamn model and revealing a back view that showcases a bottom sliver of his plump, biteable cheeks.

"Screw this," Eddie splutters, throwing his hands in the air before he launches himself at his partner.

"Huh?" Steve grunts as Eddie crashes into him.

He places his upturned palms square on each cheek with a little smack and squeezes. Steve pushes back into his touch, grinding against him.

"We are going back inside," Eddie whispers through gritted teeth.

"Awww..." Steve tuts, all high-pitched and far too obscene for the great open doors, "Thought you were gonna play baskets with me?"

[beababoobies]

Hello!

Can I request a Hazbin Hotel with a reader whose head comes off sometimes and they are just casual about it? Like Eda from Owl House or Luci from Disenchantment. It doesn’t have to be a pairing fic with anyone specific, it can be just a reaction fic by the Hotel residents.

If you accept, thank you! If not, then ok.

THIS IS SUCH A SILLY LITTLE IDEA, ABSOLUTELY. “You dropped uh.. something” HAS ME GIGGLING. Thank you for this kekeke. Also I haven’t watched the owl house so sorry if I did this wrong. 

Head Less

You had been at the hotel for a while, going through the motions of a so called rehabilitation. You didn’t mind it too much, and the people there were funny. Everyone was a little different, but everyone was accepting. It was sweet, simple. You didn’t actually believe too strongly that you would one day actually reach angelic status, but screw it. Free place to stay.

The first person to see you drop your head was Alastor. You were looking around the hotel, walking around with no real goal. Sometimes when Charlie hadn’t fully planned the day, you’d just walk around. You were on your first round of the hallways, just for Alastor to appear behind you and scare the shit out of you when you turned around, creepy sharp-toothed smile straight up to your face.

You had jumped back, head falling and rolling down the hall, causing you to groan, cursing to yourself as your body walked over to you head, grabbing your head and holding it to your hip as you cursed out Alastor. He didn’t even seem bothered by this, just staring at you as you told him that if he snuck up on you like that again, well, you just might. 

But right after him was everyone else. You see, Alastor simply didn’t care enough to tell anyone. But because everyone else did care, you knew that dropping your head around one of them would be dropping it to everyone else. So you planned it out.

That’s where you were now - sitting and watching old footage of Charlie’s childhood, which she called a bonding excersize. Angel was making comments about how hot a younger Lucifer was, Vaggie awe-ing over her younger girlfriend, Pentious melting over tiny her, and Husk not giving a single fuck over at the bar. Nifty running around all of you with her pin, looking for bugs under the sofa.

That’s when you made your move, pretending to reach over for your cup of tea, only for your head to roll off and stop at Pentious’ feet. He screamed - so loudly everyone looked over, his high-pitch scream nearly deafening you. Charlie was the next to scream, clinging to Vaggie. Vaggie just stared at your head on the floor with wide eyes. Angel burst you laughing, winking at your head on the floor.

“Nice party trick, toots.” He said in the midst of his fit of giggles, watching Charlie try to calm herself down as your body went and picked up your head like usual, popping it back on your body as you tried to reassure you were fine while still laughing your ass - or should I say head back off, and she tried to laugh it off too, but it was pretty evident you may or may not have accidentally traumatized her. 

Husked and Nifty, having heard the screams but completely oblivious to what happened, looking around completely confused, only for Angel to explain, still out of breath from laughing, Pentious cautiously peeking over the couch. “That bitch’s head just popped off!” Angel exclaimed between laughs, keeled over on the couch as Husk raised his eyebrow.

“Is this some sort of weird fuckin’ joke?” He asked with a tired sigh, wiping down the counter. You shook your head, turning around and using your hands to pop your head off again, causing him to let out a low chuckle, shrugging. “I’ve seen crazier, but that’s not bad.” He shrugged off, throwing the towel over his shoulder.

Charlie’s face of eternal trauma and doom faded to a face of confusion but also wonder, coming up to you and doing a 360 around you and your head, tucked snug in your arm. Her eyes lit up, the smile on her face wider as she let out a small squeak.

“You’re freaking HEADLESS! That’s AWESOME!” 

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Sparks Fly

Summary; Eddie makes a mean remark during your usual banter and you decide to distance yourself from him. You would rather turn your attention to someone who wants you around.

Like Jackson... Eddie isn't so happy about that though.

Warnings; Slightly mean! Eddie, angst, fluffy fluff.

Likes or reblogs are much appreciated ❤️

I don't give anyone permission to copy my work 😘

❤️

It started like any normal day except for the fact that Eddie was grumpier than usual.

So when he was a little more biting than usual you took it in your stride.

Until Dustin pitched in with a comment.

He looks at the both of you amused before saying what wss on his mind.

"Geez just date already" Eddie glares at him slamming his locker shut.

"Please, as if I would date her. She'd drive me mad within a week with her shit" he looks at you with irritation.

"Are you hanging around for a reason or are you gonna cry?"

That look on his face made his feelings clear. It stung, you felt crushed and looked away not wanting to cry in front of the asshole.

You hold your head up high, walk away from him and try very hard not to concentrate on the way your stomach sank and your heart was racing.

Screw Eddie. You should have never thought he liked you like that, his teasing was because he hated you and that was that.

Fine. Now you would bury your feelings for him and move on.

The next day you ignored Eddie, you didn't approach him, skipped on their usual past time of bickering and concentrated on your friends and studies.

And on Jackson Murray.

On Friday Hawkins Tigers were playing and she and the rest of the cheerleaders performed before the big game.

Jackson being a huge flirt sat paying you rapt attention and winked when you looked his way.

Hellfire Club was in attendance supporting Lucas, it surprised you that Eddie was here but you took it in your stride. Of course he would support one of his sheeples, as he liked to call the youngest Hellfire members.

No, don't think about him you chastised yourself and instead blew a kiss over to Jackson who was getting ready for the game and promptly ignored Eddie whose eyes narrowed, his face like thunder.

✨

It's not like you expected Eddie to corner you after the game. His eyes flashed, body tight with tension.

"What the hell do you want Munson?" you were so not in the mood for his drama.

"Surprised Jsckson isn't sniffing around you like the pathetic douchebag that he is" you roll your eyes at the venom in his voice and spot Jackson heading to the showers.

You wave at him and Eddie crosses his arms looking like a pouty puppy.

"Since when do you like preppy assholes like Jackson" you huff and apply some of your favourite lipstick using your compact.

"Since when do you care what my type is Munson?" he ignores that question and glares sullenly over your shoulder.

"You've been ignoring me for days" he points out and you roll your eyes.

"Now you can get the peace you crave and get rid of my annoying ass," you tell him and he swallows.

"Princess... Jackson shows up at that point and the tension kicks up a notch.

"Is that freak bothering you?" Jackson asks while eyeing Eddie who ignores him.

"It's fine" you can handle Eddie you dont need Jackson going all alpha male.

"You heard her. Get lost dude" Jackson steps forward but seems to think better of it, nods and turns to you.

"Uh, you do know Jason thinks Hellfire is a cult right? Sacrifices virgins and that shit?" Eddie rolls his eyes and so does she.

"Jason is a dipshit, it's just a game" Jackson nods and then leaves but not before giving Eddie a pointed stare.

"Shit. I'm shaking in my boots here" he mocks and you round on him.

"What do you want Munson besides being a dick?" he follows you as you walk away and knows he won't shut up until he's said what he's said.

"Jackson is a boring ass douche. That's who you want to spend time with princess?" you shake your head growing annoyed.

"I repeat what do you want Munson? I don't care what you think. You made your feelings about me perfectly clear so get lost yeah?" he frowns.

"I didn't mean it alright, was having a shit day and I snapped" you scoff.

"Like that makes it okay? You were mean. If you don't want me hanging around then I won't" he groans

"I'm sorry okay, I didn't mean it and I'm fucking sorry" this makes you pause because he rarely apologized to you, he looks frustrated but underneath all that is guilt and anxiety.

"For the record, you deserve better than that prick Jackson, you drive me crazy you know. Swanning around and needling at me one minute, which makes me mad, then the next minute I want to... he trails off.

"You want to do what?" you ask and he gazes at you his gaze makes your stomach flutter with those damn butterflies.

He licks his lips and there's a moment of indecision before he backs you up against the wall and kisses you.

You kiss him back fiercely, his hand tangles in your hair, and the other on your waist. It's amazing and you could kiss him forever.

How could someone who annoyed you so much make you feel like this? So much passion.

He moans and you deepen the kiss further until he pulls away still gazing at you.

"I've been wanting to do that" he murmurs and you feel that electric pull drawing you closer to him. Those sparks.

He strokes your cheek. You can hear the rest of the cheer squad call to you and Eddie's lips brush over hers once more.

You stay like that, just you and him, sparks flying and something new blossoming between you two.

❤️

[mysicklove]

a/n: i was like, “i would give this man the craziest head" and remembered that i am a writer

cw: sub! reo, reo receiving oral, nagi basically hears him, handjobs, throat fucking, reader swallows his cum, just smut, unedited.

sitting behind reo and jerking him off in the locker room, a hand covering his mouth to keep his noises at bay. it’s just you and him in the room, and he is still fully clothed in his soccer uniform.

he’s moaning into your palm, head slightly tilted upward and eyes rolling back. your hand focuses on the tip, drawing circles around the small hole, and he keen, shivering from the strange feeling.

and then the two of you hear a voice. “reo? are you in there?” nagi's voice

immediately reo's eyes widen, and he tries to slip from your hold. you don’t let him, tightening your grip on his mouth, and pinning him to you. he’s eyes flash to you and he tries to talk, a plea, but it comes out muffled.

your movements stop for a moment, and he squeezes his eyes shut, letting out deep breathes from nose. “reo?”

“respond to him,” you say, finally pulling your hand from his mouth and he blinks at you, a small moan slipping past his lips.

it takes him a second to process your words, but when he does, he looks panicked, shaking his head from side to side and trying to catch his breathe. you put a little extra pressure on the base in warning. “go on reo.”

“i-i’m in here!” he finally responds, voice slightly cracking. he hears you giggle into his neck and he whines, low enough for only you to here.

finally you pull your hand away, and his cock slaps back to his stomach. he heaves a sigh in relief when you move yourself away from his body. “why? games been over for thirty minutes now. everyone is looking for you.”

he catches your eye when you walk around to stand in front of him. you grin at him, nodding in encouragement to respond. “I—uh had a stomach ache i’ll be out in a min—agh!”

within the couple seconds of him looking away, you managed to kneel down in front of the bench and slip his cock into your mouth. he shakes his head at you, whispering to you, “s-stop it! he’s right here!”

“are you alright?”

“mhm—fine!” he half yelps, covering his own mouth now when he you swirl your tongue around the head. you open your mouth and hollow your cheeks, trying to take as much in as possible.

he grips onto your hair and throws his head back, biting his fist. you use your other hand to begin pumping the rest of him, blinking up at him.

he moans into his hand, unconsciously grabbing your head to pull you closer. “reo…what’s going on in there? you sound strange.”

reo glances at you, his eyes glassy and half lidded. another high pitched pleaded whine is let out, but you ignore him, focusing at the task at hand.

“nothing. i’m okay—just feeling sick. i’ll be out—fuck!” he curses, hands both burying into your hair when he feels you go deeper then before. you gag at the intrusion, but continue going, wanting nothing more but to tease him.

his legs begin to tremble and his humping into your mouth, eyes screwed shut. “reo what—“

“j-just go! fuck! please leave, nagi!” he begs, his voice shaky, but urgent.

“alright, fuck man. just hurry up,” nagi mumbles, before silence, excluding the sound of his footsteps walking away.

you laugh around him and he moans, shaking his head. “you—why did you—fuck! i’m going to cum!”

tears prick at his eyes in humiliation, but he wipes them away before they could fall. your head keeps bobbing, saliva now coating his entire shaft, but you hum in approval.

“i’m cuming. oh fuck. i’m cuming!” he whimpers, curling up on himself around on top of you, as he grips your hair and pulls you further onto him. you gag around it, but don’t pull away, letting him shoot his load down your throat. his whole body trembles and he lets out an echoing moan, followed by more curses.

you pull away when he finally releases your hair, coughing slightly and wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. he pants down at you, and you grin, finally standing up.

“i can’t believe you did that,” he groans, face flushed in embarrassment.

“i can’t believe you almost came in front of your best friend,” you tease in response and he pinches his brow.

you watch as he finally zips up his pants. “how the fuck am i going to explain myself?”

you laugh, pressing his a kiss to his cheek. “youll figure it out.”

he lets out a loud, dramatic groan, and slumps against the bench.

[captainfern]

id have a graves request if youd be ok with writing for him!<3 just need him stupid and flustered and whiny (and submissive mayhaps) potentially him getting wound up during a mission or smth :) thx for being such an amazng writer! without people like you the cod fandom would crumble!!!!

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Need Your Love So Bad

Commander Phillip Graves x gn!reader

[“Need Your Love So Bad” by Fleetwood Mac]

[18+]

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• summary - subby graves. that's it. that's the summary lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 1.3k • warnings - gn!reader [terms 'baby', 'doll' are used tho], sub!graves, begging, this mans is desperate for you, handjobs, light oral [m!receiving], overstimulation, whimpering 🙏, praise, a bit of degradation?, strong language

sorry not sorry for this one *evil but also horny laughter echoing off into the distance*

god he looks fine as fuck in that gif

p0rn starts straight under the cut. i'm so fr this is fucking filthy

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"F-fuck, baby, slow down– ah, god– fuck." Graves moaned, head tipping back to lean against the headrest of his chair.

He had both his hands gripping the arms of the chair, knuckles white as he tried to keep himself grounded. You kneeled before him, hand pumping his twitching cock, pre-cum beading at the reddened slit.

You smiled up at him, his eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging agape. Airy, desperate sounds dropped from his lips, his chest heaving and his abdomen tensing hard as you stroked him quickly.

"How would your shadows react to hearing you like this, Commander?" You asked in a sultry whisper, cupping his balls with your free hand as you continued to stroke him with the other.

Your grip was wet and tight, aided by your saliva and the continual stream of pre that dripped down his shaft. His cock twitched in your hand, each movement of your fist making his thigh muscles jerk and the muscles of his abdomen tighten. Graves was worked up and desperate, his cheeks dusted red.

It was your fault he was like this– working him up after a briefing, teasing him across the table. He could barely think straight. The sight of you looking so fucking good made his cock harden in his trousers, and his sentences turned to stutters. He ended the briefing early.

"F-fuck," Graves whimpered, pitch higher than usual. He bucked his hips into your hand when you pressed the pad of his thumb against his slit. "Oh my god, baby, oh my god–"

He moaned, finally slumping his head forward so he could watch you. His eyes were glassy, a couple of small tears pooling in his lower lashes. A few strands of hair fell over his forehead, sweat beading along his hair line. His cheeks were flushed, his scar almost glowing amongst the rouge.

You continued to pump him as his lips remained parted and more moans fell out. Quiet, higher-pitched whimpers slipped through each time you pressed harder to the tip of his cock, smearing the pre. The sounds of your hand around his cock, wet clicking, echoed around the empty briefing room.

"Mmmygod, baby," he drawled around a whine. "I can't– ah-ah- can't–"

"Yes you can, Commander," you whispered, the pace of your hand increasing. "Want you to come for me. I know you can."

His hips bucked into your touch, muscles of his abdomen contracting beneath his shirt as he let out a low moan. His balls tightened against your palm and he came in hot, heavy spurts as you pumped him through it.

You smiled as he painted your hand and the lower part of his shirt white. Thick ropes seeped between your closed fist, between the grooves of your fingers. You used his cum to smoothen your movements, and begin stroking him again.

Graves choked on a low moan, brows pinching together and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He cracked his eyes open, watching you as you fisted his semi-hard cock, using his spend as lube. He whimpered in the back of his throat, lifting a hand from the chair to grab your wrist.

"Hol' on, doll, hol' on..." He muttered, voice hoarse. His cock hardened beneath your slick grip, and his hips stuttered, jerking with overstimulation.

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, a subtle smile painted across your features. "You want me to stop?" You asked him, and you felt the grip he had on your wrist slacken.

The sounds of you stroking his cock were fast and wet, lewd squelches filling the briefing room. Graves let out a desperate whine, high and breathy from the back of his throat, then slumped back into his chair, removing his hand from your wrist. He gripped the arms of his chair again, thighs tensing.

"No, no, no, no– fuuuuck, oh my god, oh my god–"

You could feel your arm beginning to ache, but you didn't care. You were too focused on listening to the way your Commander was unravelling beneath your touch.

His cock had hardened fully now, so much so that it throbbed in your hand, warm and sticky. The tip flared red with sensitivity, coated in his last orgasm. You ran your tongue over your bottom lip as you watched it react under the movements of your hand. A pearl of pre-cum appeared at the slit, and you leaned over to lick it with the point of your tongue.

Graves moaned loudly, snapping his glassy eyes back down to look at you. He was struggling to keep his eyes open. You pulled back after placing one last delicate kiss to his tip, before you fisted him all the way to the base, and stopped, gripping him there.

His eyes snapped fully open, alert. He peered down at you, chest heaving with erratic breathing. After a second, he began whining, bucking his hips up to try and fuck his cock further into your closed fist.

"No, no, no, baby, come on," he begged, breathing out whines that made you warm. "Please, please, I need you, please."

You squeezed him gently. He hummed deep from his chest.

"Ask nicely, Commander." You said, shifting your head forward to lick a stripe up his length, collecting his cum on the flat of your tongue and showing it to him.

His cock jerked in your hand as he let another whiny moan fall past his lips. "I am–!"

"Ask nicely for what you want from me, Commander," you reiterated, swallowing and then placing another small kiss to the tip of his throbbing cock. "Beg for me to make you come."

Graves let out the prettiest, most desperate sound of the night. He moaned your name, then whimpered around his deep breaths, head foggy with overstimulation.

"Oh, come on, baby, please," he begged, on the verge of sobbing as you slowly began to pump him. So slowly it was torturous for him. "Please make me come, please make– fuck, please let me come."

You picked up your movements, and he sucked in a deep, relieved breath. He exhaled it through a muted whine, a sound that should have come from a puppy, not the Commander of the fucking Shadow Company.

You pumped him through a steady pace, the movements gliding. He was so wet and the 'schlick' sounds were making your lower tummy flutter.

"Come for me, Commander," you whispered. "Come all over yourself like the desperate fucking whore you are."

"Holy fuck–" Graves moaned. "Fuck– oh my god, oh my god– m'coming, doll, m'gonna–"

He came for a second time, and there was a lot more of it. Thick ropes splattered across your lower face, over your lips. More spilled out across your hand and forearm, with some striping across the bottom of his shirt.

The entire time he moaned and whimpered your name, hips bucking and jerking in the seat, chest moving up and down frantically.

You pumped him through it until he was whining again, hands coming to wrap around your forearm. You finally stopped, climbing up into his lap. He breathed hard as he watched you lick his cum from your hand and arm, his pupils blown as he followed the movements.

When you stilled for a moment, he brought his own hand to your face, wiping his seed from your lips and chin with two fingers. He then pressed his two fingers between your lips, and you happily sucked on them.

"Fuckin' hell, baby..." He breathed, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and situating his hands on your hips. He pulled you against him, capturing your mouth in a warm kiss.

"You okay?" You asked him, pulling out of the kiss to cradle his face in your hands.

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. He hummed a "mhm" as you stroked your thumb across the scar on his cheek.

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Let's go get you cleaned up."

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complete and utter filth

just how i like it

[sp0o0kylights]

 Part Five Part Two / Part Six YOU ARE HERE. / Part Seven

A03

"No come back here and hug me dammit!"

"I told you it'd be funny." Gareth stage whispered to Steve the following Monday, as Eddie proceeded to cause his usual amount of chaos in the lunchroom.

Tiff just shook her head.

"Come on, just do it and then tell everyone I'm better!" Eddie shrieked again, loud enough to be heard across the school. Possibly into the parking lot, given the winces and glares their peers tossed Eddie's way.

Jeff had his own head in his hands having been Eddie's prior cuddle victim and still suffering the consequences from it.

"I hate you." He groaned, and every single person knew he was talking to Gareth. "I cannot believe you told him his stupid hugs didn't even compare to Steve's. He almost broke my back this morning!"

Which wasn't an understatement--Gareth himself had dodged his best friend's aggressive hugs only by bolting to his first class, then acting like a ninja as he snuck about all day.

He'd even dropped to the floor and army-crawled at one point.

Now he stayed close to Steve, blatantly using the jock as a meat shield.

"Anyone have any ideas on how we can get him to chill out?" Stewart asked, from where he'd taken refuge under the lunch table.

Their second eldest member put up with many things, but drew the line at bodily injury by overly affectionate metalhead.

"Same as always." Jeff grumbled, making sure Gareth saw his glare. "We wait him out."

"Tiff!" Eddie whined, whirling around, hands reaching out for her.

"You touch me Munson and I'll burn the trigonometry notes I promised you." Tiffany threatened without looking up from her book.

"Fine." Eddie wheeled right back around. "Graaaaant-!"

"This could take days!" Stewart complained, acting like a man caged. "I can't wait much longer!"

'Dramatic, the whole lot of them.' Gareth thought fondly, knowing he was just as bad.

"Okay. Seriously, how are we fixing this?" Jeff said sourly, as Grant once again picked Eddie up by his jacket and bodily threw him as far away as he could.

Like an eldritch being from a B horror movie, Eddie simply bounced back up and came for him again.

"His issue is that he thinks I'm the better cuddler, right? Nothing else?" Steve said thoughtfully.

"Yes." Groaned the other four in unison, as Grant laid a hand on Eddie's forehead, the latter pinwheeling his arms like a cartoon character.

Steve nodded once, before his face morphed into something devastatingly smug. "Yeah we're screwed."

Jeff switched targets from Gareth to glare at Steve instead. "Really Harrington?"

"I'm back to Harrington now? Jeff, man, you wound me." Steve faked a gasp, putting a hand over his heart.

It made Gareth grin, if only because Steve wouldn't have done that a month ago. "God I love when you're a bitch."

Steve looked over at him and winked.

"Just for that, we should make you cuddle with him." Stewart grumbled. "Tell him he can decide for himself who's better!"

Which of course killed the playful look on Steve's face.

Two pairs of shoes proceeded to kick at Stewart (who dodged Jeff's only to be nailed by Tiffany's far more tactical aim.)

Except when Gareth though about it, it actually wasn't a half-bad idea.

If one pitched it right.

"You know," Gareth said slowly, a plan forming. It was half-baked, but it'd work. "--you could end this pretty easily if you did. You  have the power."

"Are we being serious right now?" Jeff grumped. "This does not feel like we're being serious."

Gareth ignore him.

"You up for one last cuddle, Sir Carrington?"  He asked, playfully.

He got a flat look in return. "You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously suggesting the solution here is for me and Eddie to cuddle."

"I am indeed." Gareth said with a grin. "So long as it's an absolutely terrible cuddle."

That got an interesting reaction.

"Good luck, I'm an amazing cuddler." Steve huffed, offended--and it looked like he actually believed it.

A curiosity, considering even with everyone announcing themselves before touching him he still got jumpy.

"Then pretend." Gareth wheedled. "You don't even have to do it for that long. Sneeze in his ear and he'll be done for."

He got a few grossed out looks for that, but it was worth it all to see Steve growing more comfortable with the idea.

"If I were to do anything of the sort I wouldn't sneeze in his ear." The jock retorted, but he looked contemplative.

"I'm sure you could come up with something else. " Gareth suggested, and gave his best, award winning smile as he said it. "You're creative when cornered."

No ulterior motives here, no sir!

"I know what you're doing, Gareth." Steve said, calling him out immediately. "But I might be convinced to take a hit for the team--for a price. My reputation would be on the line."

"What do you want?" Stewart asked immediately, more than a little desperate as Eddie carried on in the background.

"Well..." Steve trailed off, slowly meeting each and every one of them in the eye. "what are you offering?"

"You know what?" Jeff said, putting his head back in his hands. " Just for that, you and Gareth both are on my shit list."

"I'll bake you those marble brownies you wanted and get right back off it." Steve said, the smug air only growing as Jeff sighed loudly.

"Name your price, Harrington." Stewart said, talking over Jeff's second, overly dramatic sigh. "You want some D&D treasure, or an item for your character? You got it. You want a fucking," He paused, eyes scrunching up in thought. "--new basketball? Or whatever sport ball you're into right now?"

"Not even close." Steve told him.

Jeff sighed a third time, loud and obnoxious.

"Why does this always fall down to me?" Tiff asked the ceiling, as though God himself might respond back with the answer. She tilted her head back down, aiming to make eye contact with Steve. "You're in Rucker's class right? I'll write your poly-sci paper. Highest grade I will guarantee is a B, and that is because it would be suspicious if you looked like you suddenly had strong, A-grade opinions on current, geopolitical policies."

Steve snapped and pointed towards her. "Sold!" He called, mimicking an auctioneer.

Smooth as butter, he turned towards Hurricane Eddie. "Hey Munson!"

In two seconds the jock had summoned that cocky persona of his, wearing a smarmy smile like a cloak. It was getting easier and easier to tell which "bitchy Steve" was the real one and which one was a total front.

(Tiffany had decided the man was a mean girl at his core and honestly, the label stuck.

But Mean Girl Steve was a hell of a lot different than King Steve--or any of the other overly confident swaggering personas Steve adopted like a second skin.)

For for all the preparation he'd had, was still rigid most of the time Gareth had occupied his lap, only relaxing when the younger boy had gotten Eddie so wound up their eldest friend couldn't form coherent sentences.

Now, as Steve strode over and issued the challenge of a cuddle off during the next Hellfire game, he was already less stiff.

Eddie had that effect on people. Particularly ones who had crushes on him.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever been involved in." Tiffany complained.

"Is it Tiff? Is it really?" Jeff challenged as he finally sat up.

"She's definitely forgetting the purple griffin incident." Grant said, completely ignoring what was going down on the other end of the table as he took advantage of Eddie being distracted to make his escape.

"Fine." Tiff conceded before anyone could list anything else off, "But it's at least in the top five."

"This Friday, Harrington." Eddie announced loudly then, fire in his eyes and a finger in Steve's face. "Me and you. It is on."

"Hope you're ready to lose." Steve taunted.

It was hilarious as it was ridiculous.

Which meant of course, that dumb shit had to get in the way of it.

xXx

Steve backslid the next morning.

Worse, he kept backsliding, growing worse throughout the week until the person left looked a whole lot like the guy they’d dragged to their table all those months ago.

He sat silently next to Eddie during lunch, only speaking if asked a direct question, all banter and playful bitchiness gone.

He avoided Hellfire’s members in the hallway, Stewart reporting he had been uncharacteristically silent during their one shared class.

Most damning?

He’d flinched when Eddie had done their dumb little “shoulder bumping” routine.

Which officially meant that ghost Steve was back.

(“I didn’t realize how Steve was our little ray of sunshine and positivity until he stopped being it.” Tiff complained, idly spinning a pencil in the library. “Worse, I didn’t think I’d miss it.”

Gareth, who definitely wasn’t skipping again, agreed wholeheartedly.)

Not even Eddie's antics got a smile out of Steve. He really tried too, to the point where Gareth was starting to worry his best friend was going to do something dramatic just to get a little chuckle.

Steve at least, picked up on the fact he was freaking out all of Hellfire when Grant started to get blunt with his questions.

A part of Gareth (the part that appreciated Grant’s bluntness, instead of the rest of him, that wanted to duck and cover in case it made things worse) was curious if this would finally get Steve to open up; but instead it just made things worse.

Within two direct “No really dude, what's wrong?” ’s, Steve retired the haunted act and instead brought the downright freaky return of one Hawkins' jock's doing a real good job at pretending he was okay.

Pity for him this wasn't Tommy H or the rest of the public Steve was trying to fool.

This was a group of people who tended to be hyper aware of things, ranging from their surroundings to their people. (And then went on to play, as Steve regularly teased them, “one giant math game about it.”)

Not a single one of them was fooled by the act, or the evasive answers Steve pulled out of his ass when the rest of them all, individually, in their own way, tried to figure out if their newest member was okay or just having a few bad days.

"He told me he wasn't feeling good." Jeff said, worrying his lip with his teeth when they all finally convened together after school to discuss it.

"Are we choosing to buy that?" Tiffany asked, one eyebrow raised in a challenge. "He's been off since Tuesday. It's Thursday."

Grant huffed an agreement, arms crossed over his chest.

"Devils advocate, people are typically sick for more than one day." Stewart pointed out. "Dudes probably got allergies or something, it is the end of May."

"It's not allergies." Gareth said flatly.

Allergies usually came with symptoms like coughing and sneezing.

They did not come with vacant stares and falling over one's feet when their friends said hello in the hallway.

"Well clearly he doesn't want to talk about it so maybe he'll just…work himself out of whatever it is." Jeff reasoned. "I don't know if we should really push him about it."

"And miss out on another week's worth of baking?" Stewart bemoaned, as if Steve's lack of treats was the sole reason they were concerned.

Tiff swiped at him with her paperback.

Interestingly, Eddie had yet to say much on the matter. Everyone knew he was just as worried. The guy was a secret teddy bear, and they all still knew to warn him if a dog so much as got hurt in a movie. Worse, Steve was one of his "sheepies" as he so lovingly called them all, and was notoriously defensive of Hellfire as a whole.

Gareth had been eyeing him throughout their little gathering, watching as his best friend tapped his foot anxiously.

The guy seemed lost in his own head and while it wasn't completely unusual, it too, was odd behavior.

Gareth squinted at him, making eye contact and asking if he was alright with the kind of subtle facial expressions only best friends could pull.

Eddie didn't respond, but instead, looked away.

'That's a no.' Gareth thought, as the conversation around them wound down, without anyone coming up with any solid plans on what they were going to do about the Steve situation.

This is exactly how he ended up following Eddie home.

"Inviting ourselves over I see." The elder teen muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Gareth chased him to his van, hopping into the passenger seat instead of heading for his bicycle.

"It's a good night for a smoke sess." Gareth responded casually.

"You hate smoking weed." Eddie returned with a snort. "You prefer edibles."

"Just think of what we could do with Harrington's baking skills." Gareth replied wistfully--but made sure to watch his friend.

There it was. The slightest of weird expressions, flitting over Eddie's face like a shadow before he hid it back into whatever cage it escaped from.

"You're worried." Gareth guessed. Not like that was a hard one.

"Aren't we all, Gare-Bear?" Eddie returned, eyes never leaving the road.

He pretended like he couldn't feel Gareth scanning him, taking in the too tense shoulders and the shuttered, guarded look on his face.

"You know something." Gareth guessed after a moment.

The declaration made his best friend flinch, hands squeezing tight on the wheel.

'Got you.'

"Are you going to spill or do I have to blackmail it out of you?"

"Please Gary you have nothing you could blackmail me with." Eddie challenged with a snort. "I am shameless."

A challenge that could not be ignored, if only because Gareth wanted to remind him who had had the upper hand since Steve had crashed into Hellfire.

"Really? So you wouldn't mind if I show Steve those photos of the time we dressed up as a Barbie “ken doll” band for Jeff’s sister’s birthday? You know, the one were you were wearing that pink boa and the star glasses--”

A hand shot out, clapping Gareth over the mouth.

"Thank you, I got it!" Eddie said, voice an octave higher than normal. "Why do you still even have that!?"

"My mom." Gareth managed to get out, even if it was horribly muffled between Eddie's bony fingers.

"Curse that woman's thirst for nostalgia and scrapbooks." Eddie hissed, as if his mom was some grand villain.

"You love her crafts, you ass." Gareth rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth when Eddie finally removed his hand. "Now spill."

"I'm not sure this is what's causing it." The elder cautioned after a pause just long enough to be dramatic. "But rumor has it his parents are home."

"You think they're why he's acting all…" Gareth trailed off, unsure of what to compare Steve to and not wanting to say a kicked dog.

Eddie hummed in agreement. "Every time I walk into Steve's house, the place starts off feeling like a living tomb. There’s got to be a reason for that, and the only one I can think of is that his parents want that. The tomby-ness."

Gareth leaned back in his seat, contemplating. Turned the idea of Steve's mysterious parents over in his head, comparing it to how the guy's house did have a sort of museum quietness to it.

It wasn't that the place was huge, or even that Steve was typically its solo occupant beyond the occasional weekends one or both of his parents "popped in."

It was the perfectness of it.

How on any given day a photographer could show up to take pictures and the place would be camera ready.

A sort of--trophy house.

He went on to tell his best friend this.

"It’s like a shrine to their success." Eddie added an hour later, when they'd resettled onto his couch, trying to break down just what exactly about Steve's house made it so weird.

They'd shared a beer each--some gross kind that a cat couldn't have gotten buzzed off of, and Gareth had just finished helping Eddie select their chosen flower to roll when an awkward sound erupted throughout the trailer.

If Gareth knew any better, he'd say it almost sounded like someone was knocking on the shitty aluminum door.

Couldn't be though, because he'd never in his life heard someone knock--Eddie's uncle Wayne had a key, and every member of Hellfire was aware that the window in Eddie's room had a broken lock.

To get it open you just had to push at it from a specific angle, and with a few tugs it'd come right up for you.

The noise came again, this time a little louder.

Gareth looked to Eddie, and found his friend holding all the weed.

Understanding flashed between them, and Gareth stood up to answer the door as Eddie magically made the drugs disappear.

Thankfully, it wasn't the cops.

"Hey." Steve said, standing awkwardly on Eddie's porch, looking like he desperately wanted inside but wasn't sure he'd be allowed in. "Eddie said I could just come over if I needed to…?"

He trailed off, awkwardly miming smoking with his fingers.

Gareth couldn't hold in the snort.

"You're in luck man, because I just finished rolling a few." He said, stepping back to let their wayward jock in.

"Hey Stevie." Eddie drawled, now in the process of making the weed reappear. "Come in, have a seat, take a puff."

Rather than sit on the admittedly small couch, Steve chose instead to drop his ass to the floor, leaving the open spot above him to Gareth. He waited until the younger was seated before he leaned back, broad shoulders brushing both his friends legs as he relaxed.

Eddie’s hand twitched, as though he wanted to run it through Steve’s hair and thought better of it.

(Knowing him as Gareth did, that was very likely exactly what the weird little movement of his was.)

“You wanna tell us what’s goin’ on?” Eddie said softly, long after all three of them had an inhale of the joint Eddie had lit, sitting in relaxed silence. "Cause you've been pretty down, Stevie."

"Yeah." Steve agreed hollowly. "Sorry."

Eddie nudged his leg with a foot, then offered him the blunt again. "Don't apologize man, we can't all be sunshine and rainbows."

“You’d be surprised at how many people expect an apology for just that.” Steve muttered.

Gareth traded careful looks over Steve’s head, Eddie turning back and resolutely plowing on.

“You don’t have to, but talking tends to make people feel better.”

“Does it?” Steve asked, before taking a slow, measured inhale of the joint.

Idly he added; "Gareth you can't roll for shit."

"Fuck you dude!" The younger teen exclaimed, instantly offended, but knew a redirect when he saw one. "You try rolling them then!" He snatched the joint out of Steve's hands, huffing audibly.

It was an offer. If Steve didn't want to take the opening Eddie had given him, he could instead take the out Gareth had given.

The option reminded him of Alice in Wonderland (Gareth’s actual favorite movie, even if he tells everyone else it's The Empire Strikes Back)

Specifically when Alice was lost, standing before a split path and asking advice from the Cheshire Cat.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" Alice asks.

The Cheshire Cat spins its head, smiling its smile as it answers;“ That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

Steve proved himself to be a stronger man that Gareth had given him credit for, and took the harder path.

"My parents are home." He said, eyes glued to the TV in front of him, as if that would make the conversation easier.

Perhaps it did.

Eddie to his credit, didn't treat the declaration as anything important. "Yeah? They bring you something nice back from New York?"

"Florida this time and no."

Steve fussed with a thread on his sweater for a moment, a single yellow thread unspooling from the end. It looked like he’d been tugging at it a lot, a small imperfection on an otherwise expensive looking piece of clothing.

"Apparently I've been such a disappointment they're demanding I get a job." He began again. "They want me to learn the realities of hard work."

Gareth traded puzzled glances with Eddie.

Steve had never shied from hard work.

Everyone had heard the story of how he’d won over every coach in Hawkins' High’s favor. It was practically school legend, since he was the first freshmen to take up and finish some bullshit exercise challenge they hosted every year.

The guy even had a herd of some of the most obnoxious children he looked after, without pay.

There was no way the source of whatever was eating at him was a summer job.

Or perhaps, not just a summer job.

"Summer jobs fucking suck, but I hear that new mall’s finally finished.” Gareth said hesitantly. “You could probably get in somewhere there before you head off to college.”

"I'm not going to college. Didn't get into any." Steve said flatly.

Ah-ha.

"I only applied to the one Nancy made me." He added, still refusing to look at either of them. "Couldn't bring myself to apply to any of the others."

Which--odd, but it wasn't the oddest thing ever. Some people just didn't like school, or traditional learning methods.

No matter how much Gareth's counselor insisted otherwise.

"My dad found that out too." Steve said after a moment.

"College isn't the fucking answer to life." Gareth continued. "There's plenty of other things you can do."

Eddie’s head cocked, like a dog who’d been presented with a puzzle.

Steve shrugged. "That's not my issue with it, but the old man thinks it is. He keeps insisting that the free rides are over now." His voice kicked into a deep mockery of his fathers at the end, the condescending tone coming through loud and clear. “Thinks I'm here to screw my girlfriend and party my life away. Wouldn't hear me about not wanting to go to college, at all. Definitely didn't care that I broke up with Nancy." The last part was muttered, almost said more to himself and for himself than it was for them.

Eddie’s head tilted the other way.

"Did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?" Gareth asked. He figured it they knew, they might be at least able to help.

He got a shrug in response.

Gareth was about to open his mouth--probably to put his foot in it, but hell if Steve wanted help brainstorming what he did want to do with his life, or at least get positive support from someone who wasn't a rich asshole, it might as well start here.

Eddie beat him to the punch though, because as usual, Eddie was able to track the weird unspoken thing that no one else could pick up on.

"It's the kids, isn't it?" Eddie asked softly. Reverently. "You don't want to leave Hawkins, because of the kids."

Steve took another sip of beer, waving off the joint Gareth offered him. For someone who'd come to smoke he'd barely touched it or the beer, but then no one here would push.

It was pretty obvious, (to Gareth anyway) that the weed had been a flimsy excuse to begin with.

"When those damn kids started trying to trap the--dogs." Steve started, correcting his slip so smoothly Gareth almost didn't pick up that he'd intended to say something else. “I was the only damn adult they could find.”

Steve gave up fiddling with his sweater to tug angrily at his beer tab, twisting and pulling at it.

"They had figured out where the dogs would be. Had an entire meat bucket they wanted to use as bait and but I was the only damn person to try and at least wrangle the little shits. You wanna know how they found me?" He picked up steam now, and Eddie couldn't even be satisfied that he'd managed to hit the nail on the head because clearly whatever was happening here was the actual thing Steve needed to get off his chest.

"Football practice?" Gareth asked mostly to fill in the tension-filled pause, and then ducked from the swat Eddie aimed his way.

Steve blew out a harsh, mocking breath.

"Dustin found me on the way to Nancy's house, where I was planning on apologizing. Had flowers and everything."

Oh.

Steve's tone said a hell of a lot more than that, the raw emotion making Gareth's own stomach roll.

A careful glance showed an equally punched-out expression on Eddie's face, the metalhead having physically reared back like Steve's words had struck him.

"What were you apologizing for?" He asked, recovering faster than Gareth could.

"Honestly man? I don't know." Steve laughed then, a harsh little disbelieving noise. "I just knew Nancy had said--well she said some shit while drunk, and wasn't able to say some shit sober, and I realized after that maybe I--I rushed her or something you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a self soothing behavior. "Or that I did, fuck I don't know. She's Nancy Wheeler, she's smarter than me by a longshot, so if she was mad, than I figured I must be at fault." Steve shrugged, like that was a fact of life.

Eddie interrupted immediately. "She's not smarter than you."

"I--what?"

"Nancy isn't smarter than you.' Eddie repeated firmly. "She's booksmart, Stevie. School smart. Nancy Wheeler absolutely owns tests and papers and things you need to study for, and she’s a hell of a researcher--but she's not people smart."

"What?" Steve repeated incredulously and there Gareth caught a flash of bitchy Steve.

The real one, who'd been shoved aside by the apathetic version.

"Have you ever seen that girl get fixated on something? She's tenacious, gets her teeth in and won't let go.” Eddie snapped his teeth, shaking his head while growling like a dog.

Gareth rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile graced Steve’s face.

“But she hasn't figured out how that hurts people yet. She's caught up in getting the results. She's not intentionally unkind, she's just--a little out of touch." Eddie flopped back against the couch, making a grabby gesture for the joint Gareth now held. “People like you--”

Here, he poked Steve in the chest, before reaching past him to wave his hand obnoxiously in Gareth’s face for the joint (and get smacked at for the effort) “are people smart.”

"That's not--no." Steve protested head jerking from Eddie's fingers to Eddie's face, but it was weak, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes.” Eddie mocked, but it was in jest, proven by the easy, soft smile he gave Steve. “You said it yourself. The kids go to you, man. They go to you even now, when Nancy or Jonathan could be driving them all over town. You get people; how they work, how they tick, what makes them happy or sad, and people are drawn to you because of that.”

“Jonathan drives.” Steve muttered in disagreement.

“And yet we all witnessed the clown car act when all those kids came out of your backseat two weekends ago.” Eddie refuted. “You’re just as smart as Nancy is, Steve. Just in a different way.”

Steve frowned.

“My parents don’t see it like that.”

“Your parents can get fucked, Sweetheart.”

That was pushing it, but Steve didn't comment on the nickname. Never commented on any nicknames Eddie came up with, beyond the occasional eye roll.

Which is right about when the phone rang.

They all glanced towards it, then down at their respective watches.

It was well past midnight.

"Think that's Wayne?" Gareth asked, eyebrows raising as Eddie stood to answer the phone.

His friend just shrugged, before picking up.

"Munson Mortuary, you stab em we slab em." He chirped as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Tiffy-Taffy isn't it kinda late for--whoa." Eddies easy smile flipped, back going ramrod straight. "Slow down, what happened?" And oh, shit, that was Eddie's "somethings wrong and I'm going to fix it" voice.

Gareth sat up, making sure the joint Eddie had put down was out as he stared worriedly at Eddie.

"Okay. Gareth and Steve are with me, we're all coming." Eddie finished, prompting Steve to also sit up. "Stay there and for the love of God, tell Stewart not to touch anything else."

"What happened." Steve and Gareth demanded as one.

It'd be funny if the look on Eddie's face wasn't so serious.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to break my promise about not going to the lab, Steve." He said, a hand going to tug anxiously at his hair.

"What?" Steve said, immediately on the defensive.

Then; "Why?"

"Because all our darling friends went to the Hawkin's lab without us. Apparently they ran into some kids on the way and now Stewart's stuck in a hole."

“All of them?” Gareth questioned, because sure, yeah he could see Stewart doing it. Could see Grant and even Jeff really, but Tiffany? Out exploring an abandoned lab that had killed people?

On a school night?

"She's gonna give us the full story when we get there, she called from the nearest payphone. Had some kid who kept interrupting her so she just gave me the basics, but apparently Stewart is really stuck, and for some reason the damn kids won't let anyone try to get him from some other door. They keep saying it's not safe or some shit." Eddie's anxious tugging grew as he moved to snatch up his wallet and keys, walking and talking as it were.

Gareth had expected a reaction out of Steve then, but  what he hadn't expected was Steve to surge to his feet in a near panic.

"Kids!?" He shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Eddie flinched, but Gareth knew immediately what the jock was thinking.

"You don't think they're your feral pack of kids--do you?" He asked.

"It's always them so yes, yes I do." Steve snarled and for the first time that week, the guy looked alive.

Gareth just wished it was under better circumstances.

[copper-16]

Hothead

Jule gets injured, and Lena tries to deal with her worry on top of the fact that she's still trying to keep it a secret that she's hopelessly in love with her best friend.

Luckily for her? Someone happens to feel the exact same way.

(a/n: Someone asked me MONTHS ago to write this...and well I'm like 6 months late but better late than never I suppose! Also I started writing this when Feli was still at Wolfsburg so she's still at Wolfsburg for the sake of I was too lazy to change what I had already written, take it or leave it.

I love getting to write Obi...so much. Like SO much! So much that I actually didn't edit this at all I just scrolled over it really fast and said MEH it's probably good to post (so sorry if there are mistakes). Also this is cross posted from ao3 because I'm pretty sure the request was sent on here, if I remember correctly. But anywho, enjoy!)

It was a dirty foul. 

It was a really dirty foul, in fact, and pretty much all of the Wolfsburg girls are ready to throw hands when they see what has occurred. 

Jule had been taking the ball up the right side of the pitch after Obi had sent her a lovely little long ball, when the Werder Bremen defender had gone right for her ankle instead of the ball. It was a crunching tackle, a dangerous and thoughtless one from the Werder player, and it sent the blonde winger tumbling to the ground with a cry of pain. 

It was late in the game, they were up by one goal anyways, but as soon as Jule was hitting the ground, all hell broke loose. The Wolfsburg players were immediately going for the Werder defender who dared to hurt their golden girl, none leading the charge more than Lena. 

The brunette was halfway across the field from Jule when she went down, but suddenly Lena was right next to Jule as she pressed her face into the grass, her ankle ringing with pain. 

“Jule? Are you okay, should I get the medic?” Lena asks softly, her face close to Jule’s. The blonde can smell the patchouli and ylang-ylang of her perfume, and the way that Obi tugs her kit down from where it had ridden up before she placed her hand gently on the wingers back. 

Jule hated the medic. She hated going down, didn’t want to hog attention away from the others, stop play, or force a substitution to be made unless it was absolutely necessary. 

But the pain in her ankle isn’t subsiding in the way it should be, and she knows that she won’t be able to walk it off like she normally should. The blonde screwed her eyes shut in frustration as she nodded, moving to turn over on her side and eventually back as Lena began to flag down the team medic. 

Which of course, happened to be the exact same time that the Werder defender decided to open her mouth, her words callous and unkind. 

“Oh Jesus, why is she being such a baby? She’s fine, I hardly touched her,” the defender scoffed, and here’s the thing. 

Lena knew that she had a reputation for how easily she found herself in the middle of a fight. It was a fair one, she knew that. The midfielder was the one most likely in her team to be found arguing with the referee, or to get into some sort of a brawl with another player, or something of the sort. 

But her hot headedness in general paled in comparison to any sort of reaction that she had when it involved her blonde teammate. 

It was a known fact at Wolfsburg that Lena and Jule just had an inexplicably close relationship. Ever since the winger had joined the German side, her and the midfielder had been completely inseparable. 

For the older women in the team, the writing is on the wall, clear as day. But Jule is rather oblivious to the fact that her best friend is hopelessly in love with her. She would never imagine that Lena would actually reciprocate what she told herself was a silly little crush. 

But it wasn’t just that, for either side. 

Jule was gentle, maybe not always on the pitch but she was known for being incredibly sweet. Lena wasn’t exactly known for her saccharine like personality, but her and Jule just always seemed to work together. The midfielder was fiercely protective of the younger girl, whether that be batting away creepy men at clubs or making sure that she had eaten that day. It was the fact that they were complete opposites that seemed to make them work so well together, totally balancing one another out. Jule had this uncanny ability to calm Lena down, no matter what was occurring, whether it be in a game or when they are getting too competitive playing a board game with teammates. And in kind, Lena makes sure that Jule isn’t stepped on or bothered by anyone around her. 

So for someone to say something like, something that is so blatantly rude and careless, all of the Wolfsburg girls were immediately turning to Lena, knowing what was about to happen. 

“Oh you absolute BITCH–” Lena started as she turned toward the woman in a second, and she would have slammed right into her if it wasn’t for Feli, who wrapped her arms around the brunette at the last second and pulled her away. 

“Not helping right now Miss Hothead,” Feli grunted out as she hauled Lena back with everything in her, the midfielder still practically snarling at the woman as she strained against her teammate heavily. 

“Lena?” 

The brunette turns on a dime at the sound of her name being called softly by the winger, and Feli nearly falls over at how quickly the midfielder moves away from her, completely abandoning her course of action in favor of turning toward Jule. It wasn’t very often that Jule used her real name as opposed to calling her Obi like the other girls, but when she did, the brown eyed girl knew to pay attention. 

The blonde didn’t actually need the midfielder, but she knew that Lena was on the cusp of a yellow card, and the last thing she wanted to do was turn this into a card party, especially not when Lena had managed to make it through nearly the whole game without one. 

“Are you alright?” Lena asked as she knelt down next to the winger, the anger wiped from her face in favor of a kinder, softer expression, the kind that was only reserved for Jule, and Jule alone. 

Her eyebrows were knit together lightly, her head tilted to the side in worry as she looked down at her teammate, who shook her head slightly. 

“It's a bad sprain or a possibly fracture,” Jule explained, parroting what the medic had told her as he nodded along. Lena hated the fact that she could tell Jule was trying not to cry, and it made her equal parts sad and murderously mad at the defender for causing the blonde to hurt this much. 

“Help me up?” the blonde asked, breaking Lena out of her train of thought as she nodded. But the German midfielder was more than a little panicked, staring down at Jule who was looking at her with big, misty eyes, and clutching at her ankle. 

The brunette hardly even thought about it, she simply acted. She didn’t think about the setting or the consequence, but rather on what was right in front of her. 

The older girl reached down, hooking her arms around Jule’s back and under her knee, and lifting her into the air with a slightly scary lack of effort. Suddenly the blonde’s face was right in front of her own, and Obi could stare directly into the wingers eyes. 

(Behind them stood Ewa, Alex, and Feli who, alongside thousands of fans, all but had their jaws on the ground) 

But Lena isn’t focused on that, but rather the way Jule is looking at her, her eyebrows pulled together in concern. The wingers face is red, if not from exertion than from this interaction, and the midfielder can see the baby hairs that have loosened from her ponytail and frame her face. 

“Obi?” Jule asked, her voice very soft, only loud enough for the brunette to hear. 

“Yes?” She replied instantly, her heart jumping into her throat. 

Sometimes Lena had these…moments with Jule, where she thought maybe it was possible that the other girl felt just as strongly as she did. 

“I can walk…I–I need to walk off the pitch,” Jule said, louder this time, and Lena startled at her words, despite still holding the blonde safely in her arms. 

The moment popped like a needle, and the brunette flushed an even deeper shade of red at the realization that she was definitely just kidding herself. 

It simply wasn’t possible that Jule felt the same for her as she did.

“Right! Yes, well, here we are,” Lena said quickly very carefully lowering Jule to the ground and waiting for the medic to 

Which left their teammates to watch the whole interaction, Alex, Ewa, and Feli still standing in a line as they looked back and forth between the winger and midfielder. 

“Did she just–” Alex started, her voice incredulous as she was cut off. 

“Yes.” Ewa says, never one to mince words. 

“In the middle of a–” Feli tried this time, faltering when the Polish forward answered yet again. 

“Yep.” The striker said again, and the three women were stuck standing there in amazement at what had just occurred. 

“Hopeless lovesick idiots, the both of them!” Lynn whisper shouted as she walked past the trio from just behind them, her hand cupped over her mouth as though she was trying to be sly, despite the volume of her voice. 

But neither Jule nor Lena heard their scheming teammates, both of them too focused on trying to get the winger off the pitch to be paying attention to their teammates. Obi helped Jule to wrap her arms around the shoulders of the medic as she hobbled off the field, Vivien taking her place on the pitch. 

Lena doesn’t bother looking toward her coach, she knows that she won’t get a sub out, not this late in the game. But her heart isn’t really in it anymore, it’s back in the medical room where she knows that Jule is, probably getting an x-ray or something of the sort. 

Not that it really matters though. Jule’s injury has sucked the energy out of the match as quickly as it had come, and it ends up being a passing game for Wolfsburg for the remaining few minutes of the game. 

Meanwhile, Jule had just gotten situated on a bed in the medical room when Svenja had burst in the doors, her eyes searching for and immediately finding the blonde winger. The older woman hadn’t been playing, had only been sitting on the bench when Jule had gone down, and had instantly gone to get permission to go check on the younger German. 

It wasn’t news to anyone that Svenja was absolutely the team Mom of the group, now even more so because she was an actual Mom. But she always made it her mission to look out for the younger girls, in whatever way she could. 

Like when they got hurt, and she knew that they would likely be stressed and in pain. Jule can’t help the relief that washed over her when the door swung open to reveal Svenja, her eyes watering. 

“Hey kid,” the forward soothed gently as she came to stand next to Jule, who swallowed thickly as she did her best to offer a smile, even if it came out as more of a grimace than anything else. It was Svenja who sat with her for the next twenty minutes as they ran more tests, brought in a portable x-ray machine, determining that it was a small fracture in her ankle. It was minor, she would likely be out for the next four weeks and in a boot, but it meant that she wouldn’t have to have surgery, which of course was good news. 

The doctors had just given her a boot to wear as well as some crutches, slipping out of the room and leaving Jule to get down from the table, when they first heard it. 

At first glance, it sounded like a commotion in the hallways, and Jule thought that maybe it was the girls celebrating the win. 

But it only took a second for her to realize that was in fact not the case. It’s Obi’s voice that she hears, high and shrill. The midfielder sounds beyond stressed and panicked, and Jule feels her eyebrows furrow in concern at the noise. 

“Where is sh–” Obi cuts herself off when she all but busts open the door to the med room, Feli hot on her heels. 

“Jule!” the midfielder exclaims, her eyes widening as she realized that she had found the winger. 

“Jesus, did we have to sprint the whole way?” Feli pants, following Obi into the room with sarcasm dripping from her tone. Svenja forces down a chuckle but Lena doesn’t even bother paying her any mind, her eyes wild with concern. 

“Are you okay? What did the doctor say? Is everything alright? Do you need–” Lena started, only for Svenja to very quickly cut her off, sensing that the German midfielders' panicked energy was not what this room needed right now. 

“Feli, could you help Jule with her boot and crutches while I talk to the lovely Ms. Oberdorf for a second?” Svenja said, a question that wasn’t really a question at all as she drug the brunette out of the room, leaving Feli and Jule both to stare after them, a little bit lost but shrugging all the same. 

Svenja closed the door behind them, turning to Obi with a disapproving glint in her eyes. 

“Okay, you need to get it together lover girl, because you can’t–” Svenja started, but Obi shook her head, pulling back in clear disagreement, her expression weak. 

“Lover girl? I don’t even know what you’re talking abou–” she started, only for Svenja to double it and cut her off again. 

“You can save the denial for someone who actually believes you. We all know you love that girl, it’s about as clear as a sky blue sunny day, but perhaps we aren’t ready to have that exact conversation. So for now, I need you to calm the hell down and rein it in. You’re here to help that poor girl relax, not to stress her out with a game of twenty questions. Understand?” Svenja asked bluntly, knowing that sweet talking her way with Obi wasn’t something that was really all that necessary. 

The midfielder swallowed thickly before she nodded, her cheeks tinged with pink from embarrassment. But Svenja just pays her no mind, turning back toward the med room, where Feli and Jule were having a conversation of their own. 

Obi had to give herself a bit of a pep talk before she went back into the room, and by the time she reenters the med room, Jule is upright with a boot and crutches. 

“Lena, I’m going to take Jule home, would you like to come with us?” Svenja prompted, gesturing as subtly as she could toward Jule. 

It didn’t matter either way, because her sentence was barely done before the midfielder was responding. 

“Yes, absolutely!” Lena chirped out, her voice about two octaves higher than normal. Jule was a little pink in the face from using the crutches, but she still looked up with a quirked brow, entirely unimpressed with how fake her friend's voice sounded. 

She chose not to comment on it further, her foot throbbing painfully inside the boot as she made her way slowly out to the car. The winger is so focused on her journey, in fact, that she hardly notices the way that Lena hovers behind her, just on the off chance that Jule stumbles and needs help. 

She also entirely misses the several eye rolls from both Feli and Svenja as they walked out to the car, both women equally annoyed by their collective cluelessness. 

Not my circus not my monkeys, the defender mouthed to the forward, whose face immediately dropped in indignation. 

“Yes it is!” She exclaimed, shooting a dazzling (and decidedly fake) smile at both Obi and Jule when they turned back around, equally confused by the seemingly random words. 

But Feli waved them off, a thrilled grin on her face at Svenja’s little outburst. The defender helped get Jule into the forward's car before saying goodnight to her teammates and heading back to her own apartment. Lena followed Svenja’s car in her own, figuring it would be good for them to have possible means of transportation if they needed anything. 

It was Svenja who helped Jule instead, getting her set up on the couch and dolling out pain medication before she began to go over the list of what to do with Lena. 

She didn’t bother with asking the brunette if she was staying with Jule, she just…always had been. There was no use in denying the inevitable, really. 

“Okay, and you call me if you need anything, alright? Even if it’s the middle of the night,” Svenja told Jule, who gave her a small smile and a nod. 

“Yes, yes, of course Mom. Thank you for everything today,” the blonde replied softly, and the older woman squeezed her arm affectionately before seeing herself, leaving only the winger and midfielder in Jule’s apartment. 

It was hardly the first time that Lena had been here, quite the opposite really. The two of them were practically inseparable, and spent most of their time together, at one of their two apartments. 

Obi was so used to Jule’s apartment, the younger girl practically considered her a roommate. The second bedroom had a dresser with her clothes in it and a toothbrush for her in the bathroom, so it wasn’t that big of a stretch honestly. 

But for some reason the midfielder can’t seem to sit still today, floating around the apartment doing odds and ends, asking Jule if she needs something every few minutes (seconds, really), and exerting a rather tumultuous energy over the whole place. 

After about fifteen minutes, Jule sighs heavily. And right on key, Lena appears by her side, looking down at her with wide eyes. 

“What! What is it?” She asks breathlessly, having run in from the kitchen. Jule shakes her head, her expression set with exasperation that masks the hurt she’s beginning to feel. 

“Lena, if you do not want to be here you can just go home! I broke my foot, not my entire body, I do not need a babysitter,” Jule huffs out, having mistaken Lena’s nerves for annoyance. 

But she’s surprised by the way that the brunette’s face falls, and she instantly settles down on the couch next to her teammates, shaking her head. 

“No, no, there is nowhere else I want to be, I promise. I just…I don’t…” Lena trails off, struggling to find the words. Her face is screwed with indecision, and it makes the wingers heart leap into her throat. 

“You don’t…what?” Jule prompts lightly, her voice light and barely audible. It sounds rather breathless, and she hates herself for a moment by how much her voice gives her hopes away. She prays Lena won’t pick up on it…or maybe she prays that she will. 

Obi looks over at the blonde, her heart thumping in her chest. Jule is looking at her with an entirely unreadable expression, and for just a moment the brunette wonders if it would even be possible for her friend to feel the same way that she does. 

She couldn’t explain her attraction to Jule, nor could she articulate how strong it was. It felt like the winger was the sun, and the brunette was simply made to orbit around her. 

Everything was better when Jule was there. Her laugh, her smile had this completely contagious property, and it made Obi feel lighter, happier, better. 

She made Lena better, just by being herself. She was warm and kind where the midfielder was callous and gruff. She was soft and forgiving, forcing Lena to relax and give herself some grace. 

It wasn’t something she could explain, because how on earth are you supposed to describe the one person in the world who means everything to you? 

Lena opens her mouth, her feelings on the tip of her tongue. They’ve been sitting there for a now awkwardly long period of time, the silence clinging to them both, hanging in the space between them. Jule is staring back at her, her jaw clenched shut, her teeth clenched with a nervous anxiousness, wondering if this is the moment where everything will change.  

But doubt creeps into the brunette’s mind, and the thought of confessing flees her mind as quickly as it comes. 

“I just don’t know what to do to help you feel better, that's all,” Lena finally says lamely, and it takes everything in Jule for her expression not to drop in disappointment, swallowing the feeling and offering a smile instead. 

“You make me feel better just by being here,” she admitted, and it was the truth, if not the entire truth. 

Was it lying, if it was a lie of omission? 

Jule isn’t sure. She isn’t sure what she’d rather be: filled with regret because she never said anything, or filled with regret because she had. 

“But if you’re just going to sit here with two working feet I wouldn’t say no to a sandwich,” the blonde tacked on at the end, the breath stolen from her lungs at the way Lena’s face lit up, a laugh tumbling from her mouth. 

“You got it, coming right up!” She announced as she hopped up from the couch, leaving Jule to her thoughts. 

Just as she often did, the German winger spent the next few minutes mulling over the pros and cons list that had only grown as time dragged on. 

To tell her best friend that she was in love with her, and risk all of the fall out if she didn’t feel the same? Or never tell her, and simply live with what could have been, if she was a little less scared? 

It seemed like an easy choice when she framed it like that, but the actual implications of her actions somehow seemed so much larger. 

She’s so lost in thought, that she hardly notices Lena coming back with food for them both, until the midfielder is placing her hand gently on Jule’s thigh. The touch causes the blonde to jump, and Lena retracts her hand just as quickly, as though she’s been burned. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the midfielder is quick to say, but Jule shakes her head emphatically. 

“No apologies, please. I was just lost in thought…about my foot! About my foot, I was thinking about my foot!” Jule explained, seeming a little too happy to be thinking about her foot when the person on the receiving end of her words doesn’t realize its a coverup. 

But really, what was she supposed to do? It wasn’t like she could just tell Lena how she felt, right here and right now. 

“Thank you for the food,” the blonde rushes to say instead, and the two fall into gentle chatter as they eat their food. Jule is honestly glad for the distraction, would rather do anything other than talk about her injury right now. 

She’s lucky it wasn’t worse, that it wasn’t badly broken, or required surgery, but it still sucked to be injured regardless. 

The winger knew that she was lucky to have Lena to sit here and make her laugh, to drop whatever she had been doing to be here. So amidst her confusion over whether to admit her feelings, still her gratitude toward the midfielder balloons in size. 

When Jule leaned forward to put her plate on the coffee table, Lena is looking at her closely. 

“What else do you need? What can I get you?” The older girl asks, and Jule shakes her head slightly, a soft smile on her face. 

“I’m fine Obi, I don’t need anything else. I honestly just kind of want to go to bed,” Jule admitted, and Lena nodded, before looking down with a furrowed brow at the blonde’s boot. 

“What?” Jule asks with a tiny chuckle, loving the fact that she could see Lena’s brain work in real time, as if she was working out a very complex math problem and not staring at her teammates foot. 

“That thing has to hurt to walk on, doesn’t it?” Obi asked, and Jule shrugged before admitting that while it was a bit painful, it was manageable. 

But that seemed to do nothing but displease the midfielder further, and before Jule could hardly say a thing in response, Lena was reaching forward, and just as she had on the football pitch, picking the blonde up. 

Only, in this instance it was a tad more appropriate than it had been earlier in the day. 

“Oh! Lena, what are you doing?” Jule asked with a laugh, still amazed that the brunette could pick her up with such ease, with so little effort. 

The midfielder rolled her eyes, carefully navigating them around the couch and toward the stairs. 

“Clearly I’m using the fact that I have two working legs to flex on you! Now, what do we say?” Lena teased, throwing on an overly saccharine and fake tone that is clearly meant to get Jule to laugh. Not that she cares, because it works easily. She tips her head back slightly, content when her teammates catches the change of weight easily. 

When she leans back in she’s still giggling, but when she opens her eyes she finds that her face is a lot closer to Lena’s than she had anticipated. The younger girl swallows roughly, blinking several times to try to rid her expression of surprise. 

Lena’s brown eyes are staring at her pensively, softly. The sense of gentleness that her gaze held was one that had always just been reserved for Jule, and here it was, just for her. 

As brash and argumentative as Obi could be, there was no one in the world who could cause her to soften quite like Jule Brand. 

The older girl clears her throat after a second, focusing on continuing up the stairs and into the bedroom. 

The next few minutes are filled with getting themselves situated and ready for bed, teeth brushes and sink showers attempted because the thought of having to stand on one leg to shower sounded like hell on earth. 

But there was Lena, always there to hold her up and make her smile, even when she was just doing mundane tasks like brushing her teeth. 

They switch her boot out for an ankle brace, to give her some support without being too restrictive. Lena shoves a pillow down at the end of the bed gracelessly, before gently propping up Jule’s foot with great care. The two acts are entirely juxtaposing of one another, and they make the blonde giggle as she settles into her bed, the flush that coats Obi’s cheeks as a result not lost on her. 

“Will you stay with me?” Jule looked up at Lena, her face filled with uncharacteristic worry. It was hardly a question she needed to ask, and the answer from her teammate is both immediate and automatic. 

“Of course,” she replied, moving to turn the light off and climb into bed next to her best friend. 

But it’s only after the lights are turned off, and the comfort of darkness has descended on them both, that they are able to finally admit what’s been on the tip of their tongues for weeks now. 

The fact that’s probably both surprising to the two of them is that it’s Jule, and not Lena, who says something first, her boldness coming out of nowhere even if it didn’t last for more than a single word. 

Lena was laying on her back, staring up at the ceiling from her spot on the left side of the bed. Jule laid on the right side, turned on her left side so that she was facing her teammate, which was how she usually slept when there wasn’t anyone in her bed anyways. 

The winger can just barely make out the brunette’s profile, the bridge of her nose and the sharp edges of her jaw, her chest rising and falling shallowly, heartbeat quickened by whom she was in proximity of. 

“Lena?” Jule asked, her voice quiet. It was rare for her to say the midfielders actual name, and Lena’s heart skips a beat at the question. 

“Yes Jule?” She responds, her voice equally soft. 

“I–” Jule opens her mouth to say more, and finds that she isn’t sure what to say. 

It’s an uncomfortable reality, to realize that you care so greatly for another person in life that you find yourself unable to fully elucidate your feelings. 

But before she can even try again, Obi is cutting her thought process off softly. 

“Can I be honest with you about something?” The brunette asks, struggling to keep her throat open enough to explain how she’s feeling. 

“Yes,” the blonde replies instantly, her words filled with relief and hope, and it’s her tone and that alone that spurs Lena on, that allows her to say what she’s been feeling for months. 

“When we were downstairs and we were talking before and I paused I…I wasn’t brave enough to say it but I can now,” she began, taking a very slow breath before continuing. “I think I love you, Jule.” 

“You think?” The winger asked, her voice small but neutral in its tone. Lena swallows roughly at the sound, wondering if she’s made a big mistake.

But it’s too late now to think about that, so instead she forges ahead. 

“No, not I think. I know I love you, and I have for months now. Maybe ever since I met you,” Lena admits, finally turning her head to look at Jule. The blonde is sitting in bed on her side, facing the older girl. 

When the brunette turned toward her, the winger reached out with her hand, running her fingers gently over the midfielders cheek until she was cradling her jaw. 

“I love you too,” Jule whispered into the space next to them, and she can feel rather than see the tear that slips down Lena’s cheek, the wetness seeping into her palm. The midfielder turns her head, pressing an impossibly soft kiss to the inside of Jule’s wrist. 

The brunette moves with such gentleness and care, it physically feels as though the blonde’s heart will burst from how in love with Lena Oberdorf she is. 

Obi moves lightly, but with purpose nonetheless, as she gathers Jules into her arms and finally, their two bodies are pressed together softly. 

The winger tucks her body into Lena’s, not caring that her foot protests at the movement as she’s engulfed in Lena’s scent and the warmth of her body. Jule tucks her head into the midfielders neck, clutching to the brunette as Lena’s hands bring her close, keeping her safe. 

The sigh of relief that they both let out happens at the same time, as the comfort of finally being pressed together is realized. Jule cuddles into Lena, feeling sleep pull at her, the worry of her feelings not being returned now swept away like a leaf in a strong current. 

“I love you,” Jule murmured into Lena’s neck, the soft puff of air tickling the brunette’s skin in the best possible way. She smiled softly, tightening her grip imperceptibly. 

“I love you more,” Lena promises, pressing a kiss to Jule’s temple as they melt into one another, sleep coming to claim them both in the darkness of the blonde’s bedroom. 

There is still so much to talk about and discuss properly, sure, but for the night nothing else matters, except the fact that neither of them can really tell where the one ends, and the other one begins.

[mychlapci]

Hopping on the mommy TFA Ratchet train. (I do hate brat behavior, they deserve punishment. And Optimus deserves to get some of Ratchet's milk too.)

Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee are the youngest of the team. Sure OP acts older, but he's still much closer to Bulk and Bee's age range than Prowl. Prowl doesn't need the milk like they do, Bulkhead is getting his milk through bottles, but Bee is so damn greedy that Optimus can't get a single drop!

Optimus tries to rationalize it, "I'm a full grown bot, I don't need it", "bee and bulk need it more than me", "we have plenty of other fuel, I'm fine." But he's decidedly not fine. He gets more and more cranky, fuel tastes weird now, like something is off, he watches as Bee nurses with jealousy in his optics.

Bee is throwing a full blown temper tantrum about Ratchet preping bottles for the others when Optimus walks in. He then goes off on him instead, goading and rubbing in his face that Ratchet's milk is his and his alone. He only stops once Ratchet orders him to. That snaps Bee out of it real quick. He turns back to Optimus expecting to be scolded for talking to his leader like that only for him to feel even worse by seeing that Optimus is at the brink of tears. It wasn't just Bee's tantrum or words that caused it, his behavior triggered the reminder of how Sentinel would treat Optimus. Being selfish, arrogant, gloating about things he has and Optimus doesn't. He never expected his own teammates to act like that, especially since they know how Sentinel affects him. He walks away without a word and Bee meekly turns back around to look at Ratchet. He sits serenely on the table patting his lap, his chest plates are closed, and his field betrays the fury that his face does not.

Bee gets the punishment of a lifetime, only a little lessened if only because of the genuine regret he felt and his compliance.

Bee limps to Optimus' room an hour or so later. He's just about to knock when he hears a very harsh rumble of a powerful engine and the whine of vents from strain. He peeks inside only to see Optimus laying on his side, nearly motionless save for the tremors his engine causes, and his finials clicked back to the farthest setting. Bee realizes the strain in his vents is from him staying quiet. Their fearless leader... is crying! Bee feels guilt hit him harder than any of Ratchet's spanks, he really did screw up huh? Was he really that selfish? Taking a few minutes to steel himself, he opens the door and knocks quietly. The engine stalls quickly.

"Yes?" Primus, even Optimus' voice sounds bad.

"Ratchet wants to see you in the med-bay, Bossbot." Bee says, clearly and enunciated, but still meek and quiet.

A loud angry growl came from Optimus, and the distinct click of his battle mask engaging. He turns his helm to look at Bee, but a moment later the growl shifts to a slightly softer, more agitated than angry, pitch. "Very well, I'll be there in a few minutes. You are dismissed."

Bee only nods and absconds quickly, running off to find Bulkhead and Sari. He knows Optimus doesn't want to hear an apology right now, but they deserve one.

Optimus arrives at the med-bay 20 minutes later, after having cleaned himself up first. Ratchet has finished preping the bottles and turns to greet him.

"There you are, come here."

Optimus approaches slowly, "I'm sorry about earlier, I should have just-"

"No, don't apologize. I already handled it. I told Bee to go get you and send you to me, if anything he should be apologizing to you."

"I'm fine, Ratchet, it's really not a big deal-"

"Oh really?" He puts his hands on his hips, "not a big deal, ey? Not a big deal that you were driven to the point of tears by a toddler of a mech? Not a big deal that I've seen that look on your face when a certain Chin-the-size-of-his-ego Prime belittles you? I made sure to point that particular comparison out to Bee during his punishment, especially considering his own hatred of the mech. Really took him down a couple pegs."

"Ratchet, I'm a grown mech and there's plenty of fuel around, I can deal without-"

"What? My milk? The milk that you are so painfully craving and jealous of Bumblebee and Bulkhead over? They are grown mechs too, but the three of you are still young and growing. You're also far closer in age to each other than you are to me or Prowl. Hell, Prowl doesn't even need my milk and he's gotten more of it than you! You! Someone who actually needs it!"

Ratchet turned around and sat on the berth, "now come here, Prime," he opens his chest plates and lets his still leaky titties out. Optimus practically starts drooling. "You need this as much as the others do."

Optimus hesitantly crawls into Ratchets lap, "are you sure? I- I can have-?"

"Oh shuddup and suck."

Optimus is forcefully fed Ratchet's nossle, plush lips wrapped around it carefully as he sucked. But soon he began to relax, until his whole frame sagged against Ratchet's, greedily sucking down the milk he craved for weeks now. His engine idled at a soft and smooth purr.

"That's it, bittie, take as much as you need, you've been so sorely neglected recently, after all. Momma's gonna take good care of you."

my wet nurse propaganda is only furthered by this. young bots need their milk, there’s no helping it, it’s why Ratchet was sent with the repair crew in the first place. Optimus pretending he doesn’t need the milk is just foolish… He might be older than Bumblebee or Bulkhead, but he’s still well within the breastfeeding range… 

This is the only time Bumblebee can use his young age to his advantage, insisting that as the youngest he can drink as much milk as he wants to, and he absolutely abuses the hell out of this fact. Ratchet doesn’t actually care at first, he’s just doing his job and if Bee wants to be pushy, he can ignore it... but then... Poor Optimus… it’s all a little too much. Stuck on a foreign planet, saddled with responsibility, and not getting any milk at all? He’s really putting himself through it. He needs some care from momma...

[kinglivv]

One Bed

Kate Lethbridge-Stewart x Reader

Summary: Being Kate Stewart’s personal protection was a job full of challenges - aliens, monsters, the supernatural. But none as big as finding yourself in a hotel with her… and only one bed.

Warnings: Implied PTSD

A/N: Realised I’ve never done this trope so rectified that immediately! Also, first time writing for Kate - what do you think?

You couldn’t believe it.

It was classic. You couldn’t write it. One bed, one room, you and Katherine fucking Lethbridge-Stewart.

It was a work trip. Travelling out to Belarus to look at some potential satellite launch sites. UNIT was still regrouping after it’s recent Brexit dissolution, and your commander was desperate to begin scraping back that hard power. Seemingly pointless trips like these had become the norm in the absence of anything existential such as the Flux.

The trip had been last minute. You knew you were going to share a room with Kate - a product of budget cuts and a HQ concerned that as her protection detail in a hostile country, the room next door wasn’t close enough. The hotel however, had apparently royally screwed up by giving you a double instead of a twin.

“Right,” Kate said in a matter of fact tone. You both stand in the doorway, suitcases in hand, clutching yours like a rubber ring on a sinking ship. It feels like a dangerous threshold between sensibility - your job, your boss, your professional relationship - and something else unwritten.

“There’s obviously been a mix up,” she states.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “I’ll go down to reception, get it sorted?”

She looks at you. Her hand clasps and unclasps her suitcase handle.

“You could… But I mean, it’s fine. Right?” She says, “It’s the middle of the night, we’ve just been travelling 12 hours. If you’re not bothered, I’m not.”

You take a breath. She had a point. It wasn’t a big deal - two grown adults just sharing a bed on a business trip.

“Alright ma’am,” you agree, “it’s only one night either way.”

“Great,” she musters, and powers on into the room.

It is alright, you tell yourself. It was just Kate. Your boss. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to being glued to her side. That was what you were paid for - her personal protection. You were one of her “strays” as the office called it. One of her impulsive job offers. You’d been a mere police officer in the right place at the right time, when in the middle of an alien incursion, you’d knocked her out the way of a deadly bullet, almost getting hit in the process. She’d quickly made it her business to know everything of use about you; did you go to the gym a lot? How many languages did you speak? Were you satisfied with your job?

Upon finding you had the reflexes of a cat and couldn’t stand the police, you were hired.

You’d been by her side ever since. Everyday in the office, the occasional night shift, the odd weekend at her house in the country. It was fairly mundane work, lurking in the shadows and watching her every step, but you’d quickly learned that there wasn’t much downside to being paid to stare at Kate Stewart all day.

Back in the present, you find that co-existing with her in such close quarters is fairly uneventful. She takes a couple calls, does her emails. She showers and changes into checkered pyjamas. She asks after your dog and you ask after her kids. You go over the car’s planned route for tomorrow and at 11 o’clock it’s lights out. You curl up as close to the edge of the bed as you can get and try to ignore the smell of her fruity shampoo.

You wake to the sound of a muffled groan.

It’s pitch dark and hot. At first you jump, forgetting that you’re in a shared bed and you feel like duvet shift slightly. Then again - a groan. Followed by mumbles - scared mumbles.

You sit up to look at Kate. She’s a dark silhouette, but you can make out her tossing against the sheets. She’s having a nightmare, you realise.

Roll over, a part of you thinks. Spare her the embarrassment. But it’s difficult to listen to. Your heart twinges for her as her brow furrows in anxiety over imagined monsters.

You were her protection - it was your job to protect her.

“Commander,” you whisper gently, reaching out for her shoulder, and then more firmly, “Commander!”

Brown eyes snap open as she’s wrenched out of her nightmare and back into reality. She all but jumps away from you, narrowly avoiding falling out of the bed.

“You were having a nightmare,” you pull your hand away as she frantically wipes away tears and catches her breath.

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“It’s okay,” you respond softly, “I get them too. More often than I’d like to admit.”

“I - um. Sorry,” she repeats, shifting to prop herself up against the pillows, and it’s only then that you realise how close you are and how wildly inappropriate this is, “I woke you didn’t I?”

“It’s alright,” you say firmly, “Can I… ask what it was? I don’t know - sometimes it helps me when I get them. To talk.”

“Oh,” she says dismissively, “just… you know. Sutekh stuff. The usual really.”

Your face falls. You felt a lot of guilt about that day. Seeing your death approaching and being able to do nothing about it. Watching her crumble to dust seconds before you did. You had failed her in that moment.

“Kate-“ you try to say but it chokes in your throat slightly. “I never apologised for that day.”

She frowns at you through the dark. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t do my job properly that day,” you state, as if it’s obvious. “I should have been quicker. Done something. You died - as your assigned protection I literally can’t have cocked it up any moreso.”

“Cocked it up?” She repeats with a sort of sad myrth. “Darling, a god of death appeared in our office. The bloody Doctor couldn’t prevent it and you certainly couldn’t have done anything. You died seconds later, I seem to recall learning.”

You blink back tears and look away, picking the duvet pooled around your waist. She’d called you darling. You’d called her Kate. Uncharted territory.

“Have you been blaming yourself for my death all this time?” She asks quietly. Her hand reaches out, cups the side of your face, forcing you to make eye contact with her. Her touch is electric.

You nod silently against her palm.

“Darling,” she whispers again, and God you could die happy hearing her say that. “It’s not your fault,” she murmers. She’s closer now, leaning in, “it’s not your fault.” She whispers against your lips and then you’re kissing her.

It’s soft and cautious, and your mind goes black for a minute as you try to process the fact that all your fantasies are coming true at once. She breaks the kiss - perhaps to mentally list through all of the protocols and policies she’s currently breaking, perhaps just to catch her breath - and you stare at her dumbly, mouth open like a fish and tears drying quickly.

“Sorry,” she rambles hurriedly, “that was unprofessional. Was that alright? I can’t bear the thought of you carrying that guilt when -“

You lean in again and this time the desire hits you like a wave, taking everything within you to keep it at bay. There’s a sigh and her hand sneaks into your hair, the other fighting off the duvet tangled around her legs to get as close to you as possible. You slip a hand under the hem of her pyjama shirt to find hot, smooth skins and you moan into her mouth.

The noise seems to bring you back to yourself and the tension in the room snaps, reality flooding back in. The kiss breaks and she stares at you for a moment with a sort of wonder in her eyes.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” you confess before she can say anything.

“Me too,” is all she manages. She leans in again, but you muster every resolve within you and pull away after a few seconds. She pouts.

“You have to be up at 6am tomorrow,” you point out.

“I’ll sleep in the car,” she quips back.

“Someone has to drive that car,” you retort.

She laughs and it’s a nice sound, much better than her whines of fear as she shook in the grip of her nightmare, only minutes earlier.

“I never get to tell you how much I appreciate you,” she says, shifting to lie back down and pulling you down with her. Her golden hair splays around her head like a halo, and fingers thread through yours. “You make this job a damn lot easier for me, you know that? Not just the safety stuff, but just… you.”

You know what she means. You pull her into you and she sleeps sounder than she has in months.

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Regression- a DCA!Serial Killer AU Drabble

just a slice of something. May or may not become canon.

context: Moon is out shopping to restock for babysitting, Detective is about to play a card game with Sun in his apartment. Secret is also out-

cw: panic attack, breakdown, age regression

Sun hurries over with a deck in his hands, rattling it in its box. The deck was, of course, themed around cats. After scooting the coffee table aside you both sit on the living room rug. You cross your legs while Sun sits on his knees.

"So! What game do you fancy?" Sun asks, tapping the deck in his hand. "Blackjack? Poker?"

You lean back on your hands. "Not much experience with those."

"No? You have an excellent poker face for it." Sun lightly teases as he starts to open the box. You laugh.

"Adult games are boring. Besides, I can play a mean game of Go Fish."

"Go Fish it is, then!"

Sun shakes the box and the deck lands in his hands. He shuffles it briefly in a fluid motion then begins to cut. First you, then himself. As he reaches to give you your fourth card, it slips from his fingers and lands on the floor, exposing the suit. His hand twitches.

"Ah..."

You look to the flipped card, then to Sun, who had gone still, his hand still stretched out. His eyes locked on the card. You knit a brow. "Sun? What's up?"

Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was in as he blinks and looks to you. He stretches a smile across his face plate. "Ah, it's nothing. Don't wor--"

The remaining deck in his hand suddenly folds and spills onto the floor, covering both his and your stack. Sun makes another noise, this time of what you hear as frustration. You think nothing of it.

"Hey it's okay," you say and straighten. You reach to the fallen cards. "Here, I can--"

"I can do it."

Before you can, Sun's hands cover the cards and he tries pulling them all back towards his spot. You pull your hand back and watch him almost scramble to collect the cards that keep slipping through his fingers. "I can do it, it's fine, I can do it..." he keeps muttering.

The cards now lay messily on the floor in front of him, some of them slightly crinkled and bent from his eagerness to collect them. You watch a hand pick up the first card that had initially fallen, and it trembles between his fingers.

Wait...no, his whole hand is shaking.

You look to him, about to ask if he was alright, when you notice his expression had changed, ready to crumple as he glared tearfully at the card like it was at fault. His shoulders quiver, too.

"Sun?" you ask, now concerned. "Sun, what's wrong?" He doesn't answer, the only reply given is a hiss of air meant to mimic a hitch of breath. You grow more and more worried. What could've set him off? "Maybe we shouldn't play right now--"

"No!"

You jump at the brief shout.

"I-I can play! I-I can..." The card falls to the floor again. He holds his hands out in front of him, shaking and tense. The oil tears fall one by one. "I can do it...! I know I can, I..." He tries scrubbing them away, not bothering if it stained the sleeves of his sweater, but more only appear. His rays rattle and jut in and out.

"I know how to run a stupid library...I-I know how to take care of children...I know how to kill people, so I know how to cut a stupid deck..."

You blink as your worry continues to rise. Where was this coming from? Did someone say something to him?

You inch towards him, slowly reaching a hand towards him. "H-Hey, it's okay, Sun. I know you do. What's wrong, bud? Talk to me, I'm worried."

"I-I'm fine! I'm fine...I-I...c-can..."

Sun's words falter, and he wails. Pitching his head back, his eyes screw shut, sending more oily tears running down his face plate. His rays retract completely, and for a moment with the loud cry his mouth fully opens. He then hunches forward, pressing his face into the floor, arms covering his head. You're bewildered by this, but are far more concerned for your friend.

"Sun!" You put a gentle hand on his shoulder and shake him. You raise your voice in hopes of speaking over his crying. "It's alright! Hey! What's going on? Did something happen at work today?"

You somehow manage to get him to sit up, though he still hunches forward. His face is a mess from the oil, streaming down his cheek and dripping off the tip of his nose. There is a stain on the rug, but that isn't your main focus. Though his mouth had closed again he continues crying. He scrubs at his face with the heels of his palm, and his entire body jolts each time he takes simulated hitch of breath. They sound remarkably like harsh hiccups. Any words he may have spoken come out completely incomprehensible.

Almost like babbling...

The door swings open and you jump, looking up. You're relieved to see Moon standing in the doorway, a spooked and concerned look on his face plate. He drops the shopping bags and makes a b-line for you both, holding onto Sun, who almost immediately latches onto him for dear life. You begin to explain what happened. Moon sighs with a nod, almost like he understood things clearer. He cradles his brother like a mother would a frightened child.

"Give us a moment, please," he requests. "Just in the next room."

You're confused, but you nod and stand up, walking into another room of the apartment to give them space. From a distance, you can hear Moon speak soothingly to Sun until his crying finally stops.

After a while, Moon's voice quietly calls for you, telling you it's alright to come back. You return to the living room and find Moon hunched over the oil stain on the rug, scrubbing it clean. The card deck has been put away and sits on the coffee table. Curled up on the couch you find Sun, a blanket dotted with circus elephants draped over him. A stuffed bear is tucked in his arms. His face is clean, and he appears to be sleeping. One hand presses against his mouth as if he's about to suck his thumb.

Before you can ask what happened, Moon rises to a stand. The stain is gone. He sighs softly, then looks to you. Then to the grocery bags behind you. You look, too. "Help with those," he says in a hushed voice, or more hushed than usual. "I'll explain then."

You nod and the two of you get to work. Carrying the bags to the kitchen, you pull the items out and follow Moon's instructions on where things go. He comments how Sun likes things organized a certain way, how "everything has its place". You find humor in it for a brief second.

"Is he okay?" you ask while putting away juice boxes.

"He's alright," Moon answers, closing a cabinet after stocking it with wipes. He holds onto the cabinet knobs for a moment before sighing and letting them go.

"You must be confused," he says.

"I'm more concerned than anything," you reply.

"Sunny didn't tell you about the day he had, did he?"

"Obviously not." You fold your arms loosely over your chest, glancing to the couch where Sun slept. "He told you, though?"

"He tells me everything," Moon states while digging through another bag. He pulls out a carton of almond milk and stows it into the fridge. He feels your eyes on him as you wait for an explanation. "Sunny had a run-in with a rather...rude visitor at the library today."

"A Karen?"

"Cranked up to 11." You exhale with a shake of your head and wait for him to continue. "Visitor in town, staying for a few weeks. She wanted a certain book, but it was already checked out by someone else. She was adamant there was another copy, said the library's site told her so. Sunny tried to de-escalate things, like he normally does, all while she tears into him. And in front of other children, too. Said how could a robot be terrible at this kind of job."

"She said that?"

Moon nods.

A heat swells in your chest as your eyes fall back on the couch. Thinking back, you recall the things Sun had said before his fit began. Things have been rocky for all three of you lately. This lady was a visitor. She doesn't know this town's secret...

"That explains things, then."

"That isn't all."

You look to Moon, brows knit. "There's more?"

"You saw how he is now, yes? Different compared to how he was before?"

"What are you saying?"

Moon sighs, tossing the empty bags into the recycling bin. "Sometimes," he begins, "when Sunny has a really bad day, it gets to him. The stress can be too much. So, to help with the stress, he..." he pauses, as if thinking of the proper word before finally finding it, "regresses."

"...Regresses?" you parrot back.

Moon nods. He sees your confusion and sighs again, arms folded over his chest, though not in aggravation. "His mind reverts to that of a child. Not like that of a Little from someone with dissociative identity disorder. He is still Sunny. Just...smaller, mentally."

Your brows knit further as you try to follow along with his explanation. You're not sure if this is something you have ever experienced, either personally or from another person, but to see something like this in an animatronic...

"So...to deal with stress..." you slowly explain, going at the pace of your thought process, "he mentally reverts to a child-like state."

"Bingo was his name-o."

You nod, relieved to have that confirmed. You feel a pang in your heart. Sun had tried to hold out, not wanting what happened to ruin your game or for you to worry, right until that fumble with the card became the straw to break the camel's back. Even as he fell apart, he still put you first.

"How long does it last?"

"Varies," Moon says. "Usually, it passes once he's had a nap. Usually." By the brief change in tone, you guess that anything further was worth another separate discussion. "You don't need to worry. He will be fine."

You nod again, then lower your head as you think further on the subject. After a moment, you look back up at Moon.

"Do you...regress, too?" you ask.

Moon doesn't reply, but the expression on his face gives you the answer you seek. Air hisses as he sighs and walks back over to the couch. He kneels in front of Sun's head. You can't see it, but he reaches and pets his brother's head. "You are welcome to stay," he tells you, "or you can go. I understand if this frightens you."

You think for a moment, then approach the couch as well. You peer over the back and down at Sun's sleeping form. He looks so small, curled up. You hesitate to call it cute, giving what drove him to this state in the first place. Carefully, you reach down and touch his cheek. It twitches, but he doesn't stir.

"I'll...hang around a bit," you finally answer. You walk around the couch and crouch next to Moon. "He'll probably ask for me when he wakes up. May as well be here for it. And you can explain to me more about the whole...regression thing."

Moon glances your way and smiles warmly, almost in wordless thanks.