#fully exhausted. I needed a change of pace though

[foxglves]

I haven’t slept in 36 hours 👍 but at least it’s pretty here

[pupyuj]

[cw: cnc (reader receiving ofc), g!p ive, somnophilia, exhibitionism, degradation, humiliation, spanking, slapping, etc. (there’s just… a lot going on)]

been having cnc thoughts with ive so this is what i came up with! i’ll try to get some asks done and ehehe i’ve been working on a new fic for a while but ofc i get the block sdkdhsj.. BUT i’ll get out of this little predicament and hopefully come back w more food for you guys 🥰 i hope this was okay! i’m still tryna get my groove back 🤕🙏

p.s. this is like, long asf for no reason so have fun guys! 😭😘

everybody knew (y/n) (l/n) as ive’s brightest little star that was pretty much perfect in all aspects ☺️ nobody adores you more than your members though! you’re their battery, their personal motivational speaker.. but sometimes there’s a better use for you than simple bear hugs and little kisses.. you were the elder members’ toy, and they all love to use you in different ways… 😵‍💫

yujin gets real busy so she doesn’t have a lot of time to relax and do whatever she wants 🙁 poor girl barely has enough time to just sit and watch her favorite show before she has to leave for another schedule! she’s exhausted, angry, and most importantly, so fucking needy 🤭 so one day, she'd come home all tired and grumpy as she usually was... walks lazily towards the bathroom to get changed and wash her face when she notices an underwear of yours haphazardly thrown on the floor, missing the laundry basket nearby... and ofc yujin gets hard! it was annoying, really! how easy she gets horny whenever she sees you or thinks of you—you were too pretty! soon enough, yujin would sneak inside your room all hot and bothered, more than grateful that you were wearing the shortest shorts and the thinnest tank top in your closet.. fuck, yujin could practically cum at the sight of you alone!! yujin never liked touching you without your permission, but she remembered how you never fail to tell any of the unnies about how they "can use you however and whenever they want" and how "you wouldn't have a problem with it".

you were in deep sleep, so you didn't do or say anything at all when yujin swiftly gets rid of your shorts and it turns out you weren't wearing panties at all! god, you were such a slut—you just figured one of the unnies would come into your room and fuck you silly while you're asleep 🤭🤭 best believe yujin would be fully erect with even just the thought of fucking you in your sleep, so taking off her pants was quite ‘liberating’ in sense! ugdhhfhcbsig baby whimpering as she slowly inserts her cock inside you, practically drooling at how tight your pussy was! 😵‍💫 she gets a little scared when you stirred slightly, but then starts thrusting into you in a steady pace once she realizes you weren’t going to wake up any time soon 🫣 omgomg her whining in your ear bcs it’s been so long since she’s been inside you 🥺 sure it might be more fun if you’re awake (yujin needs a good riding right now actually…) but yujin couldn’t wait for that!! and now because she was thrusting inside you so fast and deep, naturally you’re wake up 😰 but you couldn’t even do anything bcs yujin’s pushed your head down to your pillows, telling you to “not say a fucking word” and “take it” and ofc you do that bcs who were you if not yujin’s stupid little pet?? 😋

biting your lip while yujin’s grip on your hair tightens more and more the closer she gets to her climax, afraid of waking the other members up and disturbing their rest :(( yujin pulling your head up roughly just to get a mix of a moan and pained sound out of you.. oh she fucking loved it 😙 seeing you look at her with both fear and lust in your eyes was what made yujin cum! filling you up to the brim but the two of you were far from finished! you haven’t cum yet after all… so expect yujin to manhandle you for the rest of the night bcs one thing she wants more than fucking the lights out of her pretty doll? control.

now… gaeul doesn’t know why but you had a real knack for pissing her off 😒 she never had too much of a problem with it before bcs most of the time you were just doing it for the camera to establish a cute little dynamic between the two of you for the fans to see! it was all fun and games until one day you went too far and gaeul just snaps 😔 the two of you were fooling around in an empty waiting room—making out and being touchy and all that, then you made a stupid joke which gaeul laughed off at first… but then you started to outright insult her and it wasn’t until gaeul has slapped you to shut you up that she realized that oh!! that was what you wanted out of her!! well, that angry reaction anyway… the whole bending you over in front of a vanity mirror and forcing you to watch yourself get fucked from behind was a surprise, but a welcome one 😋😋 she’d ignore your whining about how your hair, makeup, and outfit’s gonna get ruined, only grinning in response when she sees your shaking your head at her desperately bcs it was all becoming too much :(( her cock and her grip on around the back of your neck.. her other hand holding your hip, keeping you steady while she slams into your walls… and now what gaeul couldn’t ignore were your tears, and the pitiful way you’ve started sobbing ☹️

gaeul would’ve stopped right there (she would never want to hurt you on purpose! well except when she slapped you earlier—)… if it wasn’t for the fact that you subtly started to push back into her when she slowed her thrusts bcs she had been worried 🫣🫣 gaeul looking at you all confused and a bit conflicted bcs you literally were sobbing but you looked back at her, urging her to keep going, to keep ruining you… and you didn’t have to tell gaeul twice for her to do just that! “look at how much of a slut you are for me.” her now gripping your hair and pulling you up so you’d look directly at her through the mirror… oh that condescending look in her eyes mixed w disgust and annoyance.. you could’ve cum right there, really! but you knew gaeul would be disappointed if you did so you just stayed there, bent over and spread open like the good pet that you were 🤭 with how loud the two of you were, you were surprised that nobody has come in and interrupted you.. or maybe the noises drove everyone away! 🤔

eughfhdhc the thought of people outside the room hearing all of this.. somehow the idea did nothing but turn you on even more!! now you were moaning gaeul’s name even louder, calling her all of the names she likes through your sobs and whimpers… eventually gaeul feels you claw at her wrist, and that was when she finally came and with you, too!! 😋 as mean as she was, gaeul will definitely kiss the cheek she slapped an infinite amount of times and apologize 🥺 even though she knows it wasn’t going to be the last time you were gonna pull that stunt on her…

rei loves taking care of you! out of all the members, she was the one you stuck to all the time! everyone knows rei and (y/n) are attached to the hip, the pretty best friends who have the best instagram feeds due to each other being their own personal photographer… basically, you and rei were inseparable! 🥰 she knows you like the back of her hand, inside (😉) and out—all that stuff! the two of you didn’t fuck much, mostly bcs all you wanted to do when you’re together was gossip, make jokes, go to pretty places to take pretty pictures of each other… sure you’ll make out every now and then but ultimately, rei doesn’t touch you unless the mood strikes her 😙 and apparently, you coming home drunk out of your mind after a fun night out with your other friends was a good time for ‘the mood’ to hit rei 😚 her swinging the door open and seeing your flushed face, lazy smile, and messy hair.. she didn’t like the smell of alcohol no matter how fancy it was but when it came from you, it smelled nice enough! and then partnered with the very outfit rei helped put together… well, who could blame her for getting so hard?! by the time she sat you down on the couch, her cock was practically begging to be freed but she ignored that feeling for a while! giving you a glass of water to drink, taking off your jacket for you, caressing your hair and pushing strands away from your face.. god, who allowed you to be this pretty??

as rei slowly left kisses from your collarbone up to your jawline, she wondered if it was okay to take advantage of your dazed state like this.. it had to be, right?? you were the one who said the unnies can do whatever they want to you whenever… and rei wasn’t stupid—she knew you just wanted to get fucked for no reason bcs you were a stupid slut. she knew you better than anyone! in fact, she gets a pass for all of this, she’s your best friend after all 😚 it didn’t take long until she had you laying on the couch, with your pants and underwear removed and legs wide open and ready just for her… rei licking her lips at the sight of your wet pussy clenching around nothing, oh how she couldn’t wait to make your scream her name tonight.. 😋 you were exhausted though, barely processing anything that was happening until you felt something stiff and hard entering your pussy.. panic rushes into you until your eyes met rei’s, and then it was just a wave of emotions flooding through your head… confusion, lust, thrill.. and then even more panic when rei pushes in further, moaning loudly at the feeling.. you don’t know why it pained you so, perhaps you weren’t used to feeling rei inside you or maybe it’s bcs you clearly weren’t in the right state of mind to be doing this but fuck, why did that fact turn you on??! but your mind goes blank when rei decided to just force her entire length inside you, her ears tingling at the sound of your choked moan, wanting to hear more until your voice was gone...

"s-so big..." aww you were so cute underneath rei as you whined and weakly tugged on her shirt 🥺 but ugh as much as this all ‘weirdly’ felt good, you just wanted to have a good shower and sleep till the next afternoon.. but rei was intent on keeping you where you were when she pinned both of your hands above your head, using her other hand to clamp your mouth shut when you started to whine in protest 😤 tells you to “be a good slut” and ofc you didn’t want to disappoint your best friend so laid there and let her use you to her heart’s content! rei needed it anyway, what with everything she’s had on her shoulders as of late.. and you would never pass up on the opportunity to be of use to your unnies! after rei’s breeded you for hours on end, expect to be coddled and babied for the next week 💕 perhaps even spoiled 👀 (maybe it’s time i write sugar mommy rei actually…)

now wony… wonyoung’s got a lot to express, okay?! between living up to her ‘perfect idol’ image, schedules, and practices, you can’t exactly blame her when she suddenly just decides she wants to pull you to a corner and fuck you like it’s her last! every time she fucks you there’s always a sense of urgency in her actions… as if the world will explode if fucks you a second longer than she planned 😗 sometimes you feel like just another ‘activity’ in wonyoung’s calendar, there would be a specific date, time, and location when she wants to play with you and truthfully, it makes you feel shitty! she makes you feel shitty! god, the things she does and says to you??? you’re so lucky you’re such a slut that’s super into being practically bullied and humiliated… otherwise you’d be crying while she fucked you (but she’d probably love that) 😙 that ‘urgency’ makes wonyoung do a little of risky things.. especially if she’s desperate and wants to get off to let her frustrations out! all of ive would be alone in a waiting room and she’d literally daydream about fucking you right where you sat and laughed with yujin and rei… then she’d send leeseo out on an adventure (the baby will NOT see this fucking shit AT ALL in her life, wonyoung will make sure of it) before asking you, from across the goddamn room, to suck her cock 😀😀 there would be a pause, then the change in the atmosphere would make you shiver as wonyoung held your confused stare with a confident glare of her own… her ego only getting bigger when yujin nudges you and tells you to obey wony with a knowing smirk… evil, evil girls 🫣

ofc you were scared so you’d be frozen in your seat, trying to figure out if they were all joking or not but nope, they were 100% serious!! frustrated, wony takes up the space in between you and rei, not even giving you a minute to form a thought before lifting her skirt up, pulling her dick out of her compression shorts, and grabbing you by the back of your head 😵‍💫 “you know i don’t like repeating myself, (y/n)-ah.. nor do i like being denied of my pleasure…” and then she was balls deep inside your throat 🤤🤤 she simply loved how your mouth fit around her cock like a glove, making sure to control your pace so that your lips drag on her entire length.. finding joy in the way you’d gag and choke whenever she hits the back of your throat… even your tight grip on her thigh added to the fun—your tears too, ofc!! she’s sick, smiling wickedly while she listens to your muffled moans and your attempts to breathe but failing.. wony would feel bad but you clearly liked this! you weren’t protesting, you weren’t tapping out, you weren’t looking around trying to ask the other unnies for help… in fact, gaeul had already pulled her phone out and started recording you but you didn’t seem to mind! 🫣🫣

“f-fuck, really..? in front of your u-unnies and in a p-place where—oh, shit..!—we could easily be caught?? you’re disgusting…” you can’t see wonyoung but you can just imagine a psychotic expression on her pretty face while she said those words.. nothing makes her more happy than knowing that she can do literally anything and everything to you whenever and wherever… “where next, hm..? o-on stage? in front of dives? y-you wanna show them.. ahh… who you really are?” wonyoung, as well as the rest of the unnies, would burn the entire world if anybody else saw you like they do but it was a nice tease… pulling you up briefly so you could answer.. you frantically shaking your head no bcs the thought genuinely mortified you, then wony laughing at how panicked you looked bcs you knew that if she was pissed enough she would terrorize you during a fansign or something… after a while, she’d be done playing games—moving your head up and down so fast that you can barely keep up ☹️ she’s so desperate to cum it’s not even funny!! and when she did, she came a lot 😋 yujinnie making sure that every single drop is not wasted so she keeps your head down since wony had gone limp, they’re all cruel really 😣😣 but wonyoung, being a gentlewoman, is the one who cleans you up and returns you to your presentable state! becomes super soft bcs she knows she goes overboard sometimes 💔

jiwon is one strange case! she’s lowkey a perv and touches you inappropriately all the time but when it comes to actually fucking… well, suddenly she’s stupid 😭😭 either way, when you told the unnies they can use you… jiwon got more than a few ideas as to how exactly she’ll use you, but never had the courage to do it all! ☹️ but then you’ll find yourself in a situation that completely mirrors that one drunken experience with rei… this time around, jiwon came home completely wasted! she and yujin apparently had too much fun and now you were left to take care of the blondie 😙 she’s slurring, she’s stumbling, falling all over… can’t even take a step without needing to lean towards the wall to support herself 😭 she was GONE gone 💔 and when you hurried over to her side to help her, jiwon catches a whiff of your perfume and her entire demeanor completely changes!! 🫣 “w-what is that perfume you’re wearing..? smells nice… can i…” then she’s hugging you?? face down on your chest, sniffing your shirt, while her hands groped your ass?? “unnie.. come on don’t do this here… we need to get you to your room so you can rest up..” but nope jiwon refuses to listen! your scent alone was enough for her cock to stiffen right up…

first things first though—she has to feel how tight you are with her fingers 😵‍💫😵‍💫 subtly unzipping your jean shorts and slipping her hand inside your panties… literally moaning at how soaked you were, trailing her fingers along your folds as she leaves sloppy wet kisses on your neck.. god it was as if jiwon was completely hypnotized by your scent, going as far as to inhaling your hair and getting her boxers all wet bcs of all the precum that was leaking out of her… being so weak that you don’t do much when she presses your back against the wall 🫣 now rubbing your clit gently.. who knows how many marks she has left on your neck and chest at this point?? she doesn’t care! and jiwon barely bats an eyelash when she hears a pained squeak from you as she suddenly inserts two long fingers inside in your cunt 😵‍💫 she could practically cum at how your tightness just sucks her fingers in.. you’re squirming but you were clenching all around her! and she doesn’t miss the way you’re slightly grinding on her hand.. so she continues her work, fingering you in the best way she knows how… her free hand roaming anywhere she could touch until she grabs a fistful of your hair so you could look at her before she crashes her lips into yours 😋 jiwonie kissing you feverishly and getting so lost in your taste that she doesn’t notice you tightly gripping her wrist bcs she was going too fast… not that she’d care if she noticed anyway 🤭

“mmhn.. need to feel you on me…” jiwon moans in between kisses.. her being so knuckle-deep inside you that it hurts a little but jiwon showed absolutely no signs of stopping! she needs to hear you scream her name, needs to see you cream all over her hand… you looked so pretty with your neck all marked up and a bit of your lower lil bleeding bcs jiwon bit you while kissing you… nobody can blame her for pushing you over the edge to the extreme and making you cry as you came!! 🫣 jiwonie shushing you bcs you ended up being so loud, giggling a little seeing your tears and your swollen lips 🤭 definitely makes you clean up the mess you made on her hand, barely giving you time to react before she’s dragging you to her bedroom by your shirt, more than ready to ruin you until sunrise 🤤

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair. 

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life. 

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?” 

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?” 

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room. 

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away. 

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth. 

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side. 

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class. 

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed. 

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora. 

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her. 

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.” 

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride. 

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it. 

Now was not the time to slack. 

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior. 

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. 

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed. 

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought. 

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date. 

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture. 

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart. 

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.  

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.” 

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over. 

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop. 

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin. 

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?” 

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.” 

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.  

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air. 

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles. 

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again. 

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills. 

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running. 

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.” 

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette. 

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.” 

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.  

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over. 

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin. 

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology. 

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?” 

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.” 

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.   

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?” 

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.” 

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve. 

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim. 

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens. 

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger. 

It was raw shame. 

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight. 

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @chrissymjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @reidsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @bewitchedmunson @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[woso-dreamzzz]

Colic

Pernille Harder x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You develop colic

Magda returns to England after six weeks.

She would have stretched it longer but there were Champion's League fixtures starting up again and she needed to be there to keep the Chelsea girls in check.

So, after six weeks, it's just you and Pernille.

For the most part, you're a calm baby. You don't do much. You cry, you eat, you sleep. Sometimes, if you're feeling particularly active, you try to pull Pernille's fingers into your mouth and suck on them.

You're practically an angel baby...Though you're quite firmly attached to your Momma.

She can't set you down for a nap until you're fully asleep otherwise you'll cry and whine until you can see her again. She can't let other people hold you without being nearby otherwise you panic. There's not a moment that goes by where you don't want to be attached to her.

You're almost equally attached to Magda but it's still a pretty easy transition for you to lean fully into Pernille being your remaining caregiver.

It also means though, that with Magda returning to England, Pernille also returns to training. She's not ready to join the team just yet, not so soon after your birth so she's just gone back to light training.

For the first day back, she had wanted to be well rested but you seemed to have caught a case of colic so were crying for hours on end all night.

You're still whiney and tearful, rhythmically sucking on your dummy (one of the only things that Pernille can use to get you to stop sobbing) when she pulls up at the training centre.

The staff members suitably coo at you before Pernille escapes into the gym. It's mostly empty apart from the trainer that's working with her as the other girls are out training on the pitch.

Thankfully for Pernille, you've slipped off to sleep as she begins her workout.

She's completely exhausted, bags under her eyes and movements sluggish as she uses the machines.

"Rough night?" The trainer asks.

She gives him a tight smile. "She got colic. She wouldn't stop crying until four in the morning." She spares a glance over at you. "We're lucky that she's tired too otherwise we wouldn't even be able to do half of this."

The trainer laughs, clapping Pernille on the back. "My wife and I had our son a few years back. Colic doesn't last forever."

"It feels like it does."

They share a laugh just as the other girls fill into the room.

"Pernille!" Pajor cheers," You're back!"

Pernille drops her weights. "I'm back."

More girls flood in and move to crowd around where you're napping. It's the first time for a lot of them that they've seen you in person. Of course, everyone had known you were born and had seen the picture on the group chat but never in person.

"She's beautiful," Popp compliments as she crouches down to look at you," She's so, so beautiful. Like an angel."

"When she isn't crying, she is," Pernille replies.

The crowd swells for a moment as she moves through and picks you up, swaddling you up tightly in your oversized baby blanket. Everyone coos and looks like they're moments away from snatching you from her arms.

"Alright," She says eventually," Are your hands clean? You can all have a quick hold before we go."

A line forms quickly, girls pushing each other to try to edge forward.

"Just quick holds," Pernille says," She's been very tearful lately. I don't want her to wake up in someone else's arms and start crying."

Thankfully, you stay asleep all through your holds and all through the car ride. It's at home where everything falls apart.

You spit out your dummy and screech and whine and sob even when you're safe in Pernille's arms.

You scream so much that your little cheeks turn an alarming shade of red and Pernille paces the length of her apartment to try to soothe you to no avail.

She tries feeding you, setting you down for a nap, changing you but nothing works.

"Please," She says softly, feeling exhausted and utterly broken and thinking about just how unfair it is that Magda's away in England while she's hanging on by a thread with a colicky baby that just won't stop crying," Please stop. Please, please, please."

But you don't stop. You reject your dummy. You reject a feed. You reject all comfort and you scream and cry until you're red in the face and gagging over your own tears.

Pernille starts crying too. From frustration. From exhaustion. From genuine despair over the fact that you haven't stopped crying for hours.

She thinks about calling Magda after nearly two and a half hours but there's nothing Magda can do to help but offer kind words and encouragement and, if that had happened, Pernille's ninety percent sure she would have snapped viciously at her partner without explanation.

So, it's just you (you who's screaming and crying and nearly throwing up) and Pernille (who's crying and pacing and trying to soothe you to no avail).

"Please," Pernille sobs as you continue to scream, your lips taking on a slightly blue tinge from the lack of oxygen you're getting," Oh, please, princesse."

She does another lap of the apartment. She checks to see if you need to be changed. She tries to feed you. She tries to get you to nap.

"Okay, okay, we're going to try this, alright?"

Pernille wipes her own tears away as she starts to run the bath, stripping both herself and you down and sliding into the water. You lay on her chest as she slowly pours lukewarm water over your back as her other hand gently rubs at your head.

You didn't have much hair (and her doctor had assured her that a lot of your wispy baby hair would fall out soon) but it was enough that Pernille could brush against it as you lay on her.

Your face is still scrunched up, a little crinkle between your brows, but you've stopped crying. You coo as more water runs down your back and you finally look up at Pernille, your eyes no longer glassy or tearful.

Curiously, you reach up and poke at her mouth with you little fingers.

Pernille smiles down at you, playfully biting at them before she readjusts.

Your lips are back to a normal colour again and your red cheeks are fading.

She sighs in relief.

"Why are you crying so much, huh?" She teases," Do you miss your Morsa? Is that what it is? I miss her too but we've got each other to look after now, alright? We're gonna be okay, princesse. It's all going to be okay."

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Okay so I absolutely ADORE 'The Bucket List' and was wondering if you would consider writing a 'what happens next' with Grace and Charles? Those two NEEEEEEEEED a happily ever after!

Pwetty pwease?

Five Years Later || CL16

A/N: I never planned for Grace and Charles to be together, but they are each other’s support. Warnings: labour and delivery WC: 1.9k

The Bucket List || Death Scene || Two Years Later || Bucket Moments

“Maman, it’s time,” Charles rushed, a little breathless over the phone.

Pascale almost dropped the phone as she clambered out of bed and knocked on Arthur’s door. He had stayed the night to help entertain Angel who was asleep in Charles’ childhood room and he startled awake at the intrusion. “Get the car, it’s time.”

“It’s time?” Arthur echoed excitedly before rushing to get his car keys and wake up Angel. She didn’t seem too impressed to be woken up before dawn but she soon bounced excitedly when Arthur told her it was time to go.

“How is Grace doing?” Pascale asked Charles as she got herself ready to leave.

Charles looked at Grace who was pacing around his living room, one hand pressed against her lower back, her face pinched in pain, while the other hand cradled the swell of her belly.

“She’s doing amazing, but she’s eager for some pain relief.”

Many people thought the relationship between Charles and Grace was strange. They weren’t together, yet they were never far apart. They were like two broken branches grafted back into the same scarred tree. The parts that were missing could never be replaced, but they realised that their company was better together than being alone.

That was why she was the only one he could trust to be the surrogate mother.

Between all the medical procedures, Charles hadn’t really remembered that you froze your eggs to save them from being damaged by the chemo. The plan had been to use them when you were better, but when that didn’t happen Charles thought they would go unused. It was only a letter that arrived on the fifth anniversary of the procedure that reminded him, with an update of the egg's health status. It had taken a few more months before he plucked up the courage to talk to your parents about it and then ask Grace instead of a stranger.

“We’ll see you at the maternity ward,” Charles said with a wince as another contraction drew a pained groan from his friend. The retired world champion had known exhaustion, but after a night of supporting Grace to labour in his apartment he had a new appreciation for what it really meant.

Everything had been planned and prepared for this day so Charles was ready to bring home his little boy. His room had been painted a pale pastel blue and was decorated with picture frames so he would always recognise your face as his mother watching over him. A white sleigh cot was set up against one wall with the best baby monitor money could buy. Opposite it sat a set of drawers that held more baby clothes than he could ever need and beside it was a fully stocked changing table with newborn nappies stacked high.

Charles grabbed the hospital bag from the table and slung it over his shoulder before going to Grace. He grabbed her phone and drink bottle from the coffee table and turned off the calming piano music she had been listening to before helping her swollen feet into her slippers. “Ready?” he asked softly as he offered his elbow to keep her steady.

“Mhmm,” was all she could muster.

Though he had healed a lot in the years that had passed, more so once meeting Angel and Grace, there was still a pain in his joy when he thought that it should have been you carrying his child. Charles liked to think that he still felt you there with him through all of it, the milestones and scans, and that it wasn’t all in his head.

There was a bowl of cool water that Charles had been using to wash the sweat from Grace’s forehead but he didn’t bother to tidy it up before he left, same with the half empty plate of snacks she had tried to eat between contractions. His sole focus was on getting Grace to the hospital as quickly and comfortably as possible.

Charles knew you would have been proud of the effort he went to in learning everything about pregnancy and newborns. It felt like he had bought every book and watched every youtube video, as well as attending the local Antenatal Class. He admitted it was hard to attend the class when everywhere he looked were happy couples excited for their first child. Grace had smiled and squeezed his hand, as always, knowing exactly how he was feeling.

“Chosen his name yet?” Grace asked as she eased into the front seat slowly, straining to fit the belt around her large belly.

“I’ll know when I look at him,” he said with a shake of his head. He had a dozen names that he liked but he wanted something that suited him so he would wait a few hours more before deciding. “It has to feel right, you know?”

Grace gripped the door handle and the edge of the seat as another contraction began. Her eyes watered and her deep breaths shuddered for a minute until it passed and she sighed with relief. “Angel was meant to be Frangelica, but when she was born it just didn’t match.”

Charles laughed as he tried to picture Angelique with any other name. No, Angel suited her just right because she had saved him the day they met.

The streets were quiet as he took the turns slow and smooth, winding his way through the city that was barely beginning to wake as dawn approached. Thankfully the hospital was already expecting him and they had a wheelchair ready as he pulled up.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Charles promised before parking the car and rushing up to the maternity ward. He skidded to a stop outside the only door with voices and Grace lay on the bed in a gown.

“I’m sorry, you’re too far along for pain relief,” the midwife said as she draped the sheet back down. “Baby is already starting to crown. You have done so well, mama.”

“Oh, I’m not the mother,” she said as Charles stepped into the room, casually clearing the situation up with a smile. “I’m a surrogate for Charles.”

There had been a comment made by the media early on in the pregnancy when news broke, that Grace would try to be the mother once the baby was born. It would have been a lie to say Charles didn’t think about that possibility, but Grace had her child with the love of her life, Gabriel, and had long decided she would never have a child with another man - she felt it would be a betrayal to their memory. This child was yours and Charles, and your memory would live on through her.

“That’s beautiful,” the midwife said with a reassuring smile as she turned her attention to Charles. “There’s a spare gown in the bathroom, you can change into that if you want to have skin to skin bonding once baby is born.”

Charles had read that skin to skin contact helped newborns bond with their parents and he grinned as he stepped into the bathroom. He had never changed so fast as he heard Grace’s pained cry but the midwife was calm and talking gently as she morphed the bed to a seated position.

“You are doing so well, Grace. You might feel the urge to push with the next contractions, just do what feels natural, okay, hun,” the midwife, Ann, as her name tag read, encouraged. “I’m just going to hit the call button but there is nothing to worry about, it’s just to have an extra set of hands because it looks like the little one is making a quick arrival.”

Charles wasn’t even aware that Grace’s gown had fallen away until he saw her stomach tighten around the undeniable shape of a small body and she clenched her teeth together, dipping her chin down with a guttural cry. He had to remember to breathe as the midwife encouraged Grace to push, then rest.

“Okay, this is the one, we need one last big push,” Ann guided. “I know you’re tired but you can do this.”

Grace’s hand nearly broke Charles’ as she squeezed with the push and then the little boy was there. An exhilarated gasp escaped Charles as he saw his son lifted upright, his face purple before he took his first gulping of air and rattled out a cry after filling his lungs. Colour quickly returned to his cheeks and another midwife wrapped him in a warm towel.

“My boy,” Charles laughed as tears rolled freely down his cheeks and he looked at Grace. “Thank you.”

“I would say anytime, but-” she choked out a laugh and settled back into the pillows before another contraction began.

“What’s that?” Charles asked. He had a pair of scissors in his hand that another midwife had given him to cut the cord, but suddenly he panicked thinking there was a twin.

“Just the placenta being birthed,” Ann assured him, a smile teasing her lips like she was often asked the question with the same worried tone by fathers. “You can cut now, just here.”

Charles’ steadied his hand and found he underestimated how tough the cord would be, before gripping the scissors tighter and snipping through. “Can I…hold him?”

There was a bustle of activity as the mother midwife and a nurse made Grace comfortable, but Charles was fully focused on the tiny bundle that Ann carried towards him. “Take a seat, papa.”

Charles grinned at the new title and took a seat, opening the gown over his chest so she could place his son onto the warmth his body offered. Already, there were tufts of dark hair on his head and Charles brushed his fingers over it feeling how soft they were. His son blinked at the touch, squirming against the lights before settling against Charles’ chest and looking up.

Your eyes. Those were your eyes, set above Charles’ nose. Those were Charles’ dimples appearing on his cheeks beside your lips. A brilliant balance of his and your features wrapped up in a baby born to be loved. His lips parted silently, as if he were experiencing the same sense of awe that Charles did. It was the same look he had seen on your face as you watched the dawn rise and the light chase away the dark when you couldn’t sleep.

“Lucas,” he murmured as he delicately stroked his cheek and stared in amazement at the wonder he held. Lucas, it had been one name he liked because it meant bringer of light. It felt as if the flaking chips from his rusty heart were falling away with each second he held his son, and beneath the damage and decay it shined anew.

“It’s perfect,” Grace agreed with a tired smile.

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Enjoy this moment, Charles.” She seemed wistful for a second. “Before you know it they are walking, then running, and there’s no catching them then. Promise me you’ll enjoy this moment.”

Of all the people, he didn’t need reminding of how cruel time could be. But he had learned how to cherish the time he had, it was the last and the hardest lesson you had taught him.

“I promise.” His promise was to Grace, his promise was to Lucas, and his promise was to you. He wouldn’t waste a second of his life, not now that he had the most precious gift to live for.

[eimids]

Worst enemy part 2

Arsenal x reader

(Okay but leah in this photo is the cutest)

Warnings: talk about suicide, depression, but reader getting better

Words: around 2k?

You woke up in the comfortable bed. You didn’t want to open your eyes tho. You didn’t want to face the reality of life and yesterday’s events. So you just laid in there. You could feel Leah’s arm wrapped around you and her other hand stroking your hair.

Unbeknownst to you, Leah knew you were awake, she sensed the stiffness of your body when you woke up. She didn’t say anything because she wanted to take things at your pace.

The day before when you had asked for help, you cried in Leah’s arms for hours before falling asleep in her arms. Leah then sent some messages to Kim. They talked about contacting the team management and Jonas so they could get you the help you needed. Kim would sort all of that out for you so you didn’t have to stress about that.

“Good morning sweet girl” Leah said gently when she noticed you stirring.

“Mhmm” You just mumbled back. Not having the energy to actually answer. Leah understood though. She let you wake up slowly taking your time.

“Are you ready to wake up properly and talk about yesterday?” Leah asked after a while.

“Not really but I guess I’ll have to?” You answered after a while.

“Yea, I know it’s going to be hard for you but it’s for the best. Your gonna get the help you need to manage your depression and me and all of the other teammates will be here for you every step of the way” Leah said and continued stroking your hair. It made you a bit calmer.

“Wait do they all know about this?” You asked when Leah’s words settled in. You didn’t want all of them to know.

“No don’t worry. Even though they wouldn’t judge you about this. But no, Alessia was the first one to talk to me and Kim about this. Then Beth and Viv came to talk cause they were worried. Then lastly McCabe. They were all worried about your wellbeing and wanted to help. Others don’t know about your history with depression but most of them have noticed that something is going on with you.” Leah answered you. You just nodded your head. Not fully grasping everything that was said to you.

“So you know about what happened at Manu?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah, but that won’t change how I see you as a person. You are an amazing person and a fantastic footballer and your past doesn’t change it in the least” Leah answered trying to convince you.

“So what happens now?” You asked next after a silent moment.

“Well Kim has contacted the team management and they have called the psychiatrist at the team. You’re gonna have a meeting with her and they’ll probably want you to start medication and therapy again. That helped last time right?”

“Yeah it made things better for a while before it all fell apart again” You answered. Almost starting to cry again. Just so exhausted about everything.

Leah stayed quiet for a while before she asked you about what she was wondering all night.

“Where were you yesterday? We were all worried about you and I was really worried that you might have- um” Leah started but couldn’t say the words. She didn’t want to believe the chance that you left to kill yourself.

You stayed quiet. It seemed too hard to admit the things that were so dark. But then you started to explain

You started to explain how you had left the hotel in a very bad mental state. A state where you definitely shouldn’t have been alone. You didn’t know where you were going. Wandering around the streets. At one point you could hear sounds of a train. That grabbed your attention.

You were walking towards that noice. You didn’t know if you were actually going to jump in front of a train or was it just to calm you down. Just the thought that you could do it, made you feel better. You sat close to the rails for a while before hearing the next train coming. You pondered your options. You could do it and finally make everything stop. Or you could fight just like you did couple years ago.

The train came closer and closer before it went past you. Then you don’t even really remember how you ended back to the hotel.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you or make you worried” You said while crying.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Now we’re going to get you some help.” Leah whispered.

Two weeks later you had started your medication and therapy. Your teammates kept their promises about being by your side during all this. Although the meds hadn’t yet started working, you were slowly getting better. Just having your teammates know about your situation and helping you with basic tasks like grocery shopping and cooking helped a lot.

Your therapist said that it would be the best if you didn’t live by yourself during this time so Alessia offered to take you living with her. She had a spare bedroom and wanted to look out for you. Leah, Viv or Beth (or all of them) would often come hang out with you since they couldn’t train properly yet due to their ACL injuries. Leah wasn’t much of a cook (or at all) but her company was nice. Even in those moments where I didn’t have energy to even talk she would just hug you and watch your favorite series. Viv loved to play board games with you. It was nice and quiet, just like you wanted. Beth was a mom, she made sure you always had something easy to eat and some water close by, she would even make sure you have taken your meds.

Some days were harder, some easier, sometimes you couldn’t get out of bed but someone was always there for you. You had been pulled out of training for at least a month before the meds would start working. After that you were allowed back on training if everything went well.

“Less can we go for a walk?” You asked your friend one night when it was just the two of you.

The older blonde was not expecting to hear that sentence from your mouth. You had barely had the energy to talk for a while and now you wanted to go for a walk. She was so happy that you were getting better again.

“Yeah of course we can! Let me just grab a hoodie and we can go. Do you need anything? Should you eat before we go?” Less started fussing over you.

“No i’m good, let’s just have a nice little walk” You answered her. And that you did. You went and got your favorite snacks to have a movie night. Although you ended up falling asleep head on her lap very soon after the movie started.

A Month later you were doing better again. You had more energy and were enrolled in training again. You weren’t yet playing at games and probably wouldn’t for a while but even getting back to just training was a big step for you.

Obviously your depression wasn’t cured and you still struggled but things were looking better for you.

“Y/l/n, come here you stupid” You heard Katie yell at you. You ran to her on the pitch with confused look.

“Why haven’t you told us that your birthday is in couple of weeks?” She asked you.

To be honest you weren’t sure in the beginning if you would make it to your twenties. You completely forgot about your birthday trying to just get better.

“Oh I haven’t even realized” You answered half truthfully.

“Well we gotta celebrate! Oh we’re going to have a big party for you! Lotte! Let’s throw a party” She yelled and ran to Lotte. It made you laugh. A real laugh. You hadn’t laughed in a while and actually been happy without feeling guilty about it. Now you were just enjoying the moment with your teammate on the pitch.

“I’m so happy she’s getting better” Leah said to the blonde next to her.

“Me too, I have been so worried about her getting better and now that she has I just feel so relieved” Alessia said back. They smiled to each other before walking to you.

“We’re proud of you kid, you’ve come a long way”

—

I don’t know if this is a bit boring ending but what ever.

[kyufessions]

exhaustion

synopsis: you and your boyfriend try out a new kink

pairings: boyfriend! wonbin x afab! reader

genre: smut, 18+

word count: 0.9k

warnings: consensual non-con, fingering (f. receiving), masturbation (m)

a/n: this is shitty and not proofread, but it’s also a thought i wanted to get out before i go to bed lmao

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

wonbin didn’t expect you to be up at this hour, so when he came home and saw you fast asleep in bed it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. a sigh left his lips as he get exhaustion start to take over his body at the sight of his side being empty. as he slid off his shoes and changed out of his clothes, he couldn’t help but notice what you had worn to bed that night when the blanket uncovered half of your body when you tossed to the other side.

normally you wore a big shirt and shorts to bed, nothing too special. but tonight you wore one of his shirts and just your underwear, causing a blush to creep across his face. anytime you moved slightly he felt his underwear get tighter, his tent growing bigger at the sight of you in the underwear he had just bought for you for your birthday. wonbin walked towards the bed after tossing his dirty practice clothes into the hamper in the closet, getting ready to climb into bed and just fall asleep frustrated. because why would he dare wake you at this hour for his needs? he’d rather not disturb his sleeping beauty. but when he went to slide into the sheets next to you, the ring he had also bought you shined in his face under the peaking moonlight from the blinds.

although you and wonbin have been dating for a while now, you both wanted to spice things up- especially in the bedroom. sure your sex life was amazing and there were no complaints, but you both also wanted to branch out when it came to kinks. when you came up to him about a new one you discovered, he was hesitant at first. but after a long discussion, you both set boundaries and agreed to try it at least once. you and wonbin both picked out rings for one another, agreeing to wear them whenever you were okay with the other wanting to try out the new found kink.

his hands found your waist, his fingers trailing under the tee you wore and tracing circles into your hip. biting down on his lip, he slightly moved your finger to make sure your ring was really on. when the confirmation shone on his face for a second time, he grinned tiredly to himself and got down on his knees to the floor. his hands turned your body on its back gently; not enough to wake you up but enough to get you into position for him. even though he wanted a full view of your pussy, he didn’t dare attempt to pull down your underwear fully. again, he didn’t want to startle you. this was both of your first time doing something like this, so he wanted to do it right.

moving your panties to the side, wonbin wasted no time in placing soft kisses to your inner thighs that lead up to your clit. as his lips attached to your folds, he started off slowly. savoring every flavor that blessed his tongue, his eyes never leaving your tired face as you slept. occasionally it would contort, leaving wonbin to assume you thought you were having a wet dream. as his tongue picked up the pace, he noticed one of your hands grip the sheet weakly. your breathing quickened, chest heaving as you bit down on your lower lip in pleasure. becoming daring, he slips in one finger into your desperate hole.

you thought this was all a dream until you felt a second finger slip in, feeling your eyes flutter open as the overwhelming sensation washed over your body. when you looked down to see wonbin, his eyes had already been staring you down with nothing but stars in his eyes. bringing your one hand to his hair, you slip your hand into his hair and begin to guide him against where you needed him most. he does just as he’s told, his fingers even quickening when he wasn’t even instructed to. but he knew you by now, he knew how you liked it. if you hadn’t known any better, you’d say he even knew your body better than you did yourself.

as your whimpers became louder, so did wonbin’s thrusts into the mattress. his low moans vibrating against your skin caused a shiver to crawl up your spine, the goosebumps becoming evident across your skin as your boyfriend dug in. the lewd noises bounced off the wall, becoming music to both of your exhausted ears. backs arching, moans becoming louder, wonbin knew you were close.

“s-so close,” you mumbled, your eyes watching his movements. the pace of his fingers fastened, the rings on his fingers making your mind become more foggy. “such a good boy.” you groaned, throwing your head back as you released all over him.

the sight of you mixed with your taste sent him over the edge, his own release following suit into his boxers. wonbin wasted no time licking up every drop you provided him with, his fingers spreading your legs open wider to get everything. he watched you regain your regular breathing pattern, your grip on his hair not loosening one bit. his grin never faded as he finished up what he daydreamed about all day, scurrying to your bathroom and cleaning up you up quickly before you fell back asleep.

you watched him through tired eyes as he wiped you up and switched you into clean underwear, him doing the same after making sure you were taken care of first. snuggling back under the sheets, you waited for your boyfriend to finally jump into bed next to you and wrap you into his arms. even though you were waken up from your deep slumber, you wouldn’t mind experiencing this again.

[hoony-parker]

Could you do a Steve x reader where she has anxiety and it’s really bad for the day and so she kinda just clings to Steve the whole day?? Like she constantly hugging him/cuddling into him while he works and runs errands (maybe picks up Dustin)?

notes: aaand i'm back! so sorry for the long wait, but i had to take some time for myself <3. i won't promise any weekly updates or anything, because i'm really busy with uni, lately. but, i'll try to post every time i can! hope you enjoy!

warnings: mentions of anxiety, mentions of not eating (very brief) a lot of fluff and some teeny tiny angst at the end (happy ending!!). a litte bit suggestive, also? i changed the request a little bit... hope it still works!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

w/c: 2.9k (uh-oh)

four times you needed to be close to steve and one time the tables turned.

-one-

steve really didn't know what was going on with you.

he was starting to get concerned. it wasn't like you weren't an affectionate person. you always were— always cuddling him at night or while watching a movie, or always kissing his cheek when you were out or holding onto his hand at all times.

but, although you weren't all that shy about pda, you also knew your limits. after all, not everyone needed to see how needy you were with your boyfriend.

but this... this was on another level.

it all started the night before. steve had come home late from work after robin had literally abandoned him after telling him that same afternoon she'd help him restock the videos — she didn't by the way. she had a date, or something — and steve was left to rearrange the very, very large pile of films on his own.

he did make it up to you, though. steve made sure to make a quick stop on the service station near home to get some goodies for you: your favourite gummie bears and some sour cream and vinegar chips for you, and some tampons just cause he knew you were about to start your period.

when he safely made it home, he found you all scooped up in the living room couch, wrapped up in a blanket and what he could only assume was his yellow sweater, a sliver of fabric peeking out from under the blankets.

you were asleep, the room dark and the only light coming from the tv, still running some crappy sci-fi movie you had probably settled with after not finding anything good to watch. steve smiled tiredly, placing the plastic bag on one of the sofas and crouching in front of you so he'd be on eye level with your pair, and gently removed some strands of hair from your face, tucking them away and petting your head with gentle touches.

you hummed tiredly, eyes fluttering and a yawn way too cute for steve to handle, and he'd felt his heart clench behind his ribs because fuck, you just looked so cozy and comfortable.

he pouted when you humphed in annoyance at being woken up and leaned down to kiss your forehead, then both of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose and, finally, your lips, still plump with sleep.

"c'mon, sweet face. let's go to bed," he whispered, as not to disturb you further. you hadn't fully opened your eyes yet, and he could only imagine how exhausted you were.

it was finals' week and you had been studying your ass off since last month, simultaneously going to work every day for eight full hours and as if it weren't enough, you had to bare with the asshole of your boss, who just couldn't shut his damn mouth.

with his words, you finally opened your eyes, stretching your legs under the blanket and shaking your head no, then wrapping both of your arms around steve's shoulders and burying your face into the juncture of his neck. he chuckled lowly, breathlessly, because he felt you press a few wet kisses to his skin and then nuzzle further into his warmth, and he couldn't help his pulse from picking up its pace.

tha blanket had fallen from your back, and steve placed one of his hands there and caressed up and down so you wouldn't lose any warmth. he kissed your temple and put his lips just above your ear. "could you get any sleep at all? hm?" and then a few more kisses.

you only hummed, the answer unclear to your boyfriend. but, when he made a quick move to get out of your embrace and stand up, you whined and sat up straighter, not letting your arms fall from around his shoulders and you wrapped both of your thighs around his waist, hoisting yourself up along with him. steve made a little 'umph' sound in surprise, laughing and placing both of his hands under your thighs to keep you safely close to him.

he didn't complain. how could he? when all he had wanted all day long was to have you just like that — in his embrace, all sleepy and yearning for his warmth, ready to fall asleep in each other's arms.

so, he carefully walked up the stairs, chuckling softly every now and then after hearing your sleepy mumbles you let out.

-two-

steve didn't hate a lot of people, but if his alarm clock was a fucking person—

it was a thursday, and you had a day off. finals' week was finally over, and steve may or may not have called in sick for you, so you could stay and catch up on some much needed sleep. he, however, couldn't stay with you.

keith had made it very, very clear that steve could forget about coming back to the store if he called in sick again this month— he had done so for at least four times already. it wasn't his fault, really. it wasn't like the supernatural would let him get his sleep after attacking hawkins.

but, what really didn't make it any easier was how, when the absolutely horrible sound of the alarm, he felt you hug him tighter and you cuddled closer to his body, sighing in annoyance at the idea of having your boyfriend leave your embrace.

"mmh, no. you don't get to leave," you mumbled into his chest. steve chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to your hair and scratch your scalp, making you almost pathetically melt into his touch. in return, you gently traced figures with your nails on the skin of his stomach, your hand under his shirt, and you smiled when you felt him shiver beneath your touch.

"gotta go, sweetheart. keith'll fire me if i don't," he insisted, though his smile was almost sad at the idea of leaving you and having to yearn for your snuggles all day long.

"i'll get you a job at the bakery, then," you mumbled, and steve tickled your sides, his smile widening when you squirmed away. "i couldn't possibly rock that cupcake hat like you do, doll."

you didn't answer, only nuzzling your face into the softness of the fabric of his shirt. "don't want you to go yet, though," you sighed. steve frowned, looking behind him to get a glimpse of his alarm clock.

"it's still pretty early. why don't you have breakfast w'me, hm?" he offered, brushing your hair out of your face. you hummed, smiling in approval. "you gonna make scrambled eggs?" you asked sheepishly. he laughed. "with a glass of orange juice and some coffee. what d'ya think?" steve mumbled into your hair, leaving sweet kisses on the crown of your head.

when you nodded with a smile, steve slowly took your arms from around him and stood up from the bed, stretching his arms over his head. "gotta take a quick shower first, 'kay?" he looked at you, and you made a smiled softly, still laying on his sheets, and made a single 'come hither' motion.

he smiled in return, letting himself drop on the bed and putting his hands before him as not to crush you in the process. you giggled, placing one of your hands on the back of his neck and pulling him in, lips on his, and you felt him smile through it all. when you pulled on the hair on his neck, steve let out a low moan, and he pulled away, panting into your lips and dropping his forehead on your collarbone. "i really have to take that shower," he repeated.

you bit your bottom lip, wrapping your legs around his waist in silent question. he groaned needily, supporting your weight with both of his palms under your butt and hoisted you up, pushing his lips back on yours and walked the two of you into the bathroom.

-three-

breakfast with steve was the best thing of the day. and, because it wasn't every day you could enjoy it together, as you weren't living together — not yet, at least —, that just made the two of you yearn for it even more.

you sat on the countertop, legs swinging back and forth while you watched as steve cooked breakfast, a cute apron over his bare chest and his hair still tousled from sleep. he hummed to a song, absentmindedly swinging his hips while he stirred the eggs on the pan.

you laughed to yourself, hopping down the counter and walking to the other side of the kitchen, taking two mugs from the shelf and taking them with you on the way to the coffee machine. you poured some of the beverage in both of the cups and prepared them just how steve liked it, before walking to him with both of the cups.

placing one next to his hand on the countertop, you kissed his bare shoulder, singing the lyrics of the song he was humming seconds before.

"thank you, sweetheart," he smiled warmly, turing his head over his shoulder and puckering his lips, asking for a kiss.

you did as he asked, a quick peck on his pink lips and you took your free hand to his forehead to clean his sight from any fallen strands of hair, then caressing his cheek with your thumb.

after deciding against hugging him from behind while he cooked, because you knew steve gets distracted very easily and it was for the best for him to finish breakfast without any incidents, you waited for him on your seat by the window. he quickly joined you, putting a bowl with the scrambled eggs on the small table next to you and his cup of coffee next to his plate, sitting down on his chair.

quickly, though, you decided that he was sitting way to far from you. so, you took your mug, rounding the table and walking towards him. he frowned, confused, but you placed a hand on his shoulder and just waited for him to get the hint himself. when he leaned back, you climbed on his lap, one hand around his shoulder and the other bringing the coffee to your lips. he just smiled at you, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh and his other hand gripping his fork.

-four-

steve knew you had a test today. he knew, because you hadn't slept at his in weeks trying to prepare yourself for it. and, yes. it was torture for him, sure, but he was worried for you.

even though you and him weren't meeting after your shifts or after your lessons so you could study, you'd try to make some time to grab lunch with him, or meet on your respective breaks. he'd seen the bags under your eyes, the way your nails looked bitten and the skin around them looked red and angry.

he could feel your anxiety from a mile away.

you had your morning shift today, and then your exam half an hour after your last lesson of the day ended. it was noon now, almost eight, and he had yet to hear from you.

it was funny, really. how, even though he couldn't even imagine himself sitting for an exam as hard as the one you're sitting for right now — something you had told him multiple times before that he's more than capable of doing so —, he felt as nervous as if he was the one in that classroom with the sheet of paper in front of him.

but he had seen you through the process of getting ready for it. he'd seen you with your head in your hands, highlighter in hand while you went over and over the same page, trying to get all the information in it to stay in your head.

he'd seen you skipping meals, only ingesting caffeine as if your life depended on it, and it worried him.

so, he waited, and he waited, and tried to busy his mind by restocking the videos and organizing them by alphabetical order — just like keith had told him and robin they had to actually organize the movies like, but hadn't really done so before — but it wasn't really working. a frown found itself permanent over his pretty brown eyes, and robin watched, amused, with her chin on the palm of her hand on the counter.

"watcha thinkin' about, lover boy?" she smiled, teasingly. steve hadn't had any time to bother himself from reacting to her teasing. "haven't heard from her since this morning, tha's all," he mumbled under his breath, not even looking up nor facing her, as he continued placing the videos on the shelves.

"she'll come soon enough," she assured. "speaking of," robing exclaimed and, as if on cue, the bell above the door ringed. steve looked up, and he barely got to see your figure, head down while you walked with long, hurried steps towards him.

"hey, sweethe—", he interrupted himself with a sound of surprise, your body crushing into his and you buried your face deep into his vest.

he could feel your heart beating hard and quick, but, even though he tried to get a glimpse of your face, the angle wouldn't allow it. steve, looked at robin with a worried face, which she mirrored, and she shrugged, leaving the room and walking into keith's — now empty— office to leave you some space.

your breathing was heavy and your grip was tight, and steve, although it took him some time to understand the situation, didn't hesitate to hug you back just as tight. it wasn't until he felt a wet patch forming on his shirt that he realised you had started crying, and he kissed your forehead and began to sway the both of you side by side. "s'all good, doll. jus' breathe f'me," he mumbled into your hair, his voice hushed and sweet like honey, calming and comforting like a fuzzy blanket in a cold morning.

after a couple of minutes of silence, only the sound of your sniffles in the empty store, steve spoke up, still holding you tightly. "hey, how 'bout a movie night? you've wanted to watch back to the future for a while now, right? we can take it from here. no one'll notice. and, if they do, we'll just blame robin," he shrugged, and felt himself perk up at the sound of your teary laugh. "don't be mean," you accused.

"hey, she's been stealing the pb&j sandwiches you make for me for months now. she'll get over it."

+one

steve was a reserved guy. never been one to talk about his issues with anyone. not when nancy broke up with him, not when he went through all the supernatural. he's never told a soul.

but, when you came into his life, things slowly started to come out of his mouth by themselves. as if they'd just slip from his tongue swiftly and without struggle. as if the words had been begging to come out for months now and needed the relief.

however, steve had never, ever, talked about his family to you. you knew it wasn't easy. knew he didn't have a great family and, being an only child, he was all by himself for most of the time. even more when his parents were away for work trips for the most part of the year.

you didn't know when the breaking point had been. when, all of the sudden, couldn't even talk about his parents. about his dad, specifically. but, a couple of years forward, steve had graduated from community college.

it wasn't a big deal, he had said. although, it really, really was. and you couldn't have been anymore prouder.

the ceremony had been small — just the family of the graduated students and their friends — but they were just a few of them. of course all the kids had been invited and every single one of them had shown up. but, even though you knew steve was glad all of you had made it, he couldn't mask the disappointment on his face when he looked around the room and didn't catch his parents' eyes.

he'd been quiet the rest of the day; at the restaurant you had all gone to to celebrate, at dustin's house, where his mother had so kindly baked him a cake with frosting that read 'con-grad-ulations, steve!'.

steve was more than grateful, of course. he had recieved more love from all of those people than from his own family in his entire life. but, nonetheless, his smile couldn't quite reach his eyes. and you couldn't blame him for it.

when you made it to his house — emtpy, as usual—, steve threw his cap on the couch and walked into the kitchen. you knew he needed his time, so you went upstairs and got ready for bed.

once in bed, you waited for him with a book in hand. a couple of minutes later, he came into view, already in his pajamas and threw himself over you, immediately burying his face in your chest, tangling his legs with yours.

your hands went, as natural, to his head in a second, petting and comping and scratching his scalp to get to relax him. but, when you felt hot tears meet your skin, you held him tighter and let him cry. he cried for minutes, gripping you with such strength, as if he was scared you'd slip away from him. you kissed his forehead, hands and fingers, nose and cheeks, and let him cry.

"shh, breath f'me, mkay? s'all good, honey."

taglist!

@filmsbyemma @m-rae23 @hello1276 @bijleegiregi @tiaamberxx @dirtytissuebox @mads-weasley

[diodellet]

alone time (simeon x gn!reader)

i finally got simeon's first memory ssr, his paws 2 UR, but i couldnt scrounge up enough DV to pull for his dia de los muertos UR… honestly who decided to keep giving him UR cards?? content warning for stuff under the cut: -drugging (it's kinda ambiguous aka: this could be read as an accident or intentional, but it's still drugging) -non-consensual somnophilia, non-consensual sex (i mean even if the reader does have feelings for him, they didn't explicitly consent to being touched.) ++lots of foreplay and jealous pining, body worship and praise, some dacryphilia, and morally gray simeon word count 2.2k words minors don't interact

He tells himself that it was a mistake. That he just accidentally grabbed the same herbal tea as that one night when you slept over in Purgatory Hall. But he couldn't just throw out an entire pot of tea, could he?

He had to admit though, seeing you struggle to fight off drowsiness, seeing you blink and rub at your eyes to stay focused on the conversation, seeing you try to—but ultimately fail at—stifling your yawns. It was endearing.

And besides, this kind of tea wasn't a sleeping draught. Nothing at all like the kind that Lucifer would use to treat his chronic insomnia. No, it was a relaxant, making the drinker more aware of their exhaustion, more receptive to the idea of rest and recuperation.

That meant you were more tired than you let on.

"...sorry, Simeon. I—" The enth yawn interrupted your sentence, "—I think I need to rest my eyes..." Moving your empty teacup aside, you propped your elbow up against the armrest, leaning your chin into your palm. But your efforts to stay awake were to no avail, you soon realized. "...On second thought, I didn't realize I was so sleepy..." Your words slowed to a snail's pace, before you fell silent. Your eyes slid shut.

"Just let me put these away for a moment. I'll walk you back," he reassured you with a soft smile gracing his lips.

Your voice came out muffled from how you were resting your head. "...thanks..." you hummed.

He rose from his seat to take the used teacups and teapot to the kitchen area. When he returned, you were still in the same position you fell asleep in. It didn't look comfortable, especially not for your neck.

He took a step closer to you, brushing the tips of his fingers against your shoulder. Noticing the slow rise and fall of your chest, he hesitated before trying to wake you. Should he instead let you rest for a little longer, he wondered.

Well, more than that, he couldn't just leave you lying like that.

He called your name softly, "sorry, let me help you get more comfortable..." Taking a seat next to you, he gently pulled you up into a sitting position. One hand supported your shoulder and the other your midsection. Your back rested against his chest. Your head lolled against him now that you were fully asleep. His hand rose to card his gloved fingers through the unruly locks of your hair, tracing the curve of your ear, following the line of your jaw, then finally coming to stop just shy of your lips—

He laid you out on the sofa, making sure to keep your head propped up against one of the throw pillows. Now that your legs were stretched out, you wouldn't end up painfully sore once you woke up from your nap.

(Or he could have just awoken you normally. Watched you stir back into lucidity, watched you blink up at him with bleary eyes before taking his hand and letting him walk you back to the House of Lamentation. Maybe you would have leaned against him and asked if the both of you could take your time, slowed your stride and let this time together stretch on for as long as it could. You hardly ever took the initiative to be upfront with him, always a little shaky or anxious when in his company.)

Despite your shy and reserved nature, he could remember multiple times where you've shown that you were anything but that: a time when he wasn't sure if you had changed your cologne or your soap. When asked about it, you hid a sheepish expression behind your hand and said it was a gift from Asmodeus. There were several times where you've shared granola bars, sandwiches (that he made for you), crackers, sweets (made by Luke) all sorts of snacks with Beelzebub and Belphegor. There were plenty of times where Mammon and Lucifer got to have you to themselves, easily calling you to their side or making plans with you out of the blue. Even when it came to mundane conversation, you would always bring up book recommendations from Satan or mention something from a TV series that Leviathan's been following.

Rarely ever did he get to see you like this. He always made sure to keep a respectable amount of distance between you two. He had seen the way the demon brothers would glare anyone who stepped too close to you, who put themselves too far into your personal bubble. But for some...unknown—maybe, divine or even mystical—reason, the both of you would find yourselves together like this. Close to each other with no demon brothers, nor that sorcerer, and especially not that young angel around to interrupt. Now was the perfect chance for him to leave his own mark on you, wasn't it?

A small groan escaped your lips and your brows furrowed, disturbing the peaceful expression on your features. Simeon stiffened, his hold tightening on you for a fraction of a second. He should stop, he should stop doing this right now—

His breath hitched. "A-ah...sorry I—"

You shifted, almost nuzzling against him. Through the thin barrier of your clothes, the heat from your body felt like a brand against his skin and yet he didn't want to let go of you. His hands slipped underneath your shirt, mapping out the soft flesh of your midriff, rising higher to splay his fingers over where your heart was. He could feel his pulse thumping wildly in his chest, while your own was steady.

"...Mm...Belphie... too hot..." you mumbled, pulling away. Or well, you would have, if you weren't caged in Simeon's arms.

His earlier alarm morphed into something uglier. Something more twisted, something downright possessive.

That wasn't right. You were supposed to be calling his name.

His hand cupped your chest, he marveled at how it fit into his palm. His fingers stroked and teased your nipple erect. Gently tugging at it and rolling it between the digits. Simeon gauged your expression, how your jaw tightened and your body tensed up. A shuddering moan escaped your lips, but you remained unconscious. How he wanted to map out every inch of your skin, to worship your body with his hands and mouth.

Maybe you weren't completely unconscious, your body was aware of these sensations and it was reacting to him, to his touch. Welcoming him.

Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he breathed in your scent once again.

His pants grew tight, he couldn't ignore his building arousal anymore. Pushing the hem of your shirt up, he pressed his lips to your sternum, the base of your ribcage, slowly rising to wrap his lips around your nipple and laving it with his tongue. His other hand doesn't stop toying with the other nub. From his ministrations, your breathing quickened and your cheeks flushed, the color spreading down to your neck.

He needed to stop now before it got too much, before you woke up but—

You were pushing against him for more, rutting your hips against him.

He pulled away and released the nub, now shiny with spit and red from stimulation. One of your hands is fisted in the fabric of the sofa cushions. Your expression has given way to a small frown. But the most important thing was that you were still unconscious.

God, he wanted more of you. He couldn't just stop now.

The exhale that escaped his lips did little to relieve his rising guilt. And furthermore in spite of that, he was painfully hard. He unbuttoned his pants and moved to free his cock before stopping in his tracks. His gloves—he clumsily yanked them off and tossed them in the direction of the coffee table. Now without the barrier of the fabric separating him from you, the contact of his bare skin against you set his nerves alight. He pressed his palm against your stomach, digging his fingers in and soaking up every bit of warmth radiating from your skin.

His other hand wrapped around his erection, stroking up and down. he bit back a groan at the welcome friction. His pace quickened, his arousal spilled onto the skin just below your navel.

What would it feel like inside you? He doubted you would feel anything less than divine around him. If you were awake, what kind of expression would you be making right now? Would you be staring at him or would you be peeking at him through the gaps of your fingers? Or were you the more impatient type, equally desperate to touch him while whining for more?

Either way, the sight of you under him was breathtaking. You were breathtaking.

"...hm...?" Simeon froze at the sound of the questioning hum that left your lips. His clean hand slapped over his mouth, did he say that last part aloud? His body continued to betray his baser instincts despite his mortification. The tip of his cock continued to leak, creating a small pool of arousal on your skin.

His pulse thundered in his ears as he waited to see if you continued to stir. When you didn't, before his guilt could fully stop him—

He already pulled your pants down and lined his cock up to your entrance. A hushed litany of apologies spilled from his lips, but he couldn't make do with just his hand. But he wouldn't penetrate you fully, no, he didn't want to hurt you, he just...

...needed a little more.

He couldn't hold back the low moan that rumbled from his chest as he pushed into your entrance. Your walls, albeit relaxed, still clenched tightly around him. One of his hands settled onto your waist and the other braced against the spot beside your head. Puffs of your breath met the skin of his inner wrist, warm and steady, occasionally hitching as he brushed against—what he presumed to be—your sensitive spots. His gaze lowered to where the two of you were connected.

Mesmerized, he wondered if you could fit more of him.

"Ngh..." A quiet curse left his lips. The thought was too lewd to imagine, he paused and let the spike of arousal pass before he continued to slide into you. When at least less than half of his cock was inside you, he would pull out and repeat the process again. Gentle, careful, methodical, in spite of his growing impatience. With slow and shallow thrusts, he was eventually met with little resistance.

You were doing so well, opening up for him while continuing to suck him back into your warmth. Quiet praises mixed with moans escaped from him. He moved to brush the messy strands of hair out of your face to gaze at your expression. Could you come just from this? Was there a chance of you both being able to come together like this?

You stirred at the touch, his hand moved to your cheek and he let his thumb rest on your bottom lip—

Your eyes fluttered open and you blinked up at him. "Huh... Simeon...?"

Drawn out of his languor, he yanked his hand away as if burned. "Ah...this...this isn't what it looks like—" His sentences were fragmented. Scattered. Disjointed.

You moved to sit up before you froze, slowly becoming aware of the sensation beneath your hips. "W-what's...happeni—" Your words cut off with a gasp. You tightened even more around his cock. His fingers dug into your waist, leaving marks.

Try as he might, he couldn't respond. His eyes squeezed shut at the sudden overwhelming tightness that engulfed him. He couldn't stop from sinking deeper into you.

You pushed at his shoulder, limbs still heavy with sleep. "Wait...s-stop...!" Your breathing hitched for a second time. "Simeon...please stop—" Your words tapered off into a pained whine as his dick brushed against your inner walls. Your hand clutched at his wrist, nails digging into his skin.

Lethargy still clung to you. The gesture didn't hurt a single bit, only leaving faint crescent-shaped imprints.

The desperate note in your words brought him to meet your gaze. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes. His hand came up to brush them away before pushing you back down against the sofa. He briefly pulled out of you, he was close—so close to coming. "I'm sorry, please bear with me..." His lips brushed against the pulse point of your inner wrist in an apologetic gesture.

Your eyes widened in realization and you shook your head. "N-no, it won't fit, it won't fit—" You squirmed in his hold. "Please don't, please—I promise I won't tell anyone about this..." Your voice grew thick, more tears streamed down your cheeks.

Your pleas fell on deaf ears as his hand slid down your waist to hook against the back of your knee, curling your leg around his waist. The tip of his dick rubbed against your hole, making you reflexively twitch at the sensation.

He leaned closer to you, pressing his forehead against yours. "It'll feel good, I promise," he reassured you gently before lacing your fingers together with his.

confession: as I was writing the fuckening part... unholy suddenly came on. is it a coincidence or--

[bltzgore]

I doth drabble...

Background info:

Whumpee is being held at the base of a group of whumpers (maybe for interrogation, or ransom, or maybe just entertainm). There is this sort of arena where some of the whumpers like to take turns beating whumpee in the cement floor. This scene comes on the tail end of one of those beatings.

Tw: broken bones (specifically ribs), collapses lungs, blood in the lungs, bruising, strong language, mentions of sci-fi augments, pain relief drugs

Laying on their stomach was brutal. Whumpee wasn't sure they still had a fully intact rib left in their torso. But they were exhausted. This round had only gone three hours, not the shortest, but hardly the longest they'd suffered through.

This didn't change how horrendously the position they were laying in made their entire chest burn, and their lungs practically spasm with the strain.

They needed to move. They needed to breath properly.

So, Whumpee began to arrange their hands against the ground, well, one of their hands. Their left shoulder had stopped working right since the particularly vicious handling whumpee had received about an hour and a half into this session.

Still, they worked against the shaking of their right arm and pressed up. Slowly, they shifted the weight off their abused chest cavity and were rewarded with a fuller breath.

Whumpee was figuring out which way to let themselves back down when there was a sudden pressure on their back that dissuped the careful architecture of their current position.

Whumpee crashed back onto their stomach. The second they made contact with the floor, their world went black. Their mouth gaped in a scream, but their lungs were on fire. Nothing left their mouth but a strained wheeze like sob.

The world pieced itself back together in patches, their vision crept back at a snails pace, as they tried to handle the shock and the lack of oxygen.

The pressure, which had now been identified as Whumpers foot, pressed down harder, making whumpee gasp and immediately regret it, siezing up with rabid heavy tears. The less oxygen their body got the more it struggled, forcing whumpee to squirm and aggravate almost all their existing injuries in the process.

Whumper grinned, "That's right, you fuckin' worm." They dug the toe of their boot into whumpee's back.

Whumpee's spine arched, and their face contorted. They felt their ribs scraping together and displacing, stabing new holes into their lungs, crushing into everything they were supposed to protect.

"Can't even scream." Whumper laughed, deep and satisfied, "how pathetic can you get?"

Whumpee's vision was fraying at the edges, pain lighting up every corner of their body as they writhed under the pressure. Whumper was right, they were a worm.

Whumper removed their boot and let whumpee breathe, unconscious creatures were no fun.

Whumpee tried to breathe in. They tried so hard, but they couldn't breathe deep enough to get their vision to clear. They could at least stay awake though. That was something, right?

Tears ran down whumpee's face without permission, whumper sneered, and pulled whumpee's head up by their hair. "Damn, you look awful. With that many broken bones, maybe it'd be more humane to put you down." They laughed at their own joke, "You want that little worm? Want me to make it all stop?"

Whumpee blinked heavily as their view of whumper cycled through degrees of blur. They weren't sure they wanted to hear themselves answer that question.

Whumper had opened their mouth to continue when from across the room-

"Hey! The hell are you doing? The boss said 'e needs 'em alive, dumbass."

Whumper dropped their grip on whumpee's hair and stood, turning to go address the source of the voice. "I wasn't actually gonna do it, caretaker."

"The hell you weren't." They muttered, then more directly, "You're time is up anyway, get the fuck out you freak."

Whumper sighed, "Yeah yeah." And started off. "Patch 'em up better this time, maybe then they won't break so easy." Heading out through the door.

Caretaker growled something more obscene than usual and climbed up onto the arena floor. They knelt next to whumpee, who was trying to move again, lacking the lung capacity to cry properly.

Caretaker set the makeshift medical kit down and gently drew whumpee off the floor, taking the weight mercifully off their torso. They shifted how they were sitting just enough to lean whumpee's back against their chest to keep the weight pressing against bones that weren't as damaged.

They could feel all of the small movements whumpee's muscles were making in their failing attempts to protect themselves. All of the light twitching of muscle that had been pushed to their brink. They could feel whumpee trying to breathe. Stuttering, wheezing, shaking.

With the gentle treatment, whumpee's body had a free moment to remember the fluid building up in their lungs. Whumpee tried to cough, and it was hell. A spray of red on the cement floor and their world went white. Their sobbing picked up enough to just be heard over the wheezing. But their body didn't take the hint, it just wanted to expel the collecting blood.

"I know, kid, I know." Caretaker soothed, holding them up with one arm and rooting through their medical supplies with the free hand. It stopped on the cool glass of the syringe and brought it out. Caretaker closed their teeth on the cap and tugged it off. "This'll help, just hold on for me." They forced the needle into whumpee's arm and pressed down the plunger, sending the clear liquid in, to work its magic.

As it took effect caretaker layed them back on the floor for assessment.

A gentle warmth slowly traveled through whumpee, pooling in places where the pain was heaviest, and making it hard to think. That was ok with whumpee though, they didn't want to think anymore. Not about the agony, not about the hopelessness, not about how they had almost said yes to whumper.

Whumpee felt a hand on their cheek, thumb carefully brushing away a new tear. They leaned into it, and whimpered. The only soft touch in weeks. "Evrything h-hurts." They whispered.

Caretaker felt their heart clench, but they kept it out of their voice, "I know, kid. I'm gonna fix it."

Caretaker started by investigating what was clearly going to be the biggest problem. The ribs. So they carefully drew up whumpee's shirt. Holy shit. What had whumper been thinking?!

Whumpee's skin was a galaxy of black and blue, with sick undertones of yellow and un-oxygenated red. When their chest rose it rose wrong, there were inconsistencies... dents, in the usual contours of the ribcage, and places that reshuffled themselves as they moved.

For a moment, Caretaker was paralyzed. This was such a mess. They weren't even sure how many ribs could be saved. They were going to have to open up and replace, and they barely even knew how to- caretaker shut down the spiral. They needed to think clearly... as clearly as they could.

First, the things they knew they could do. Drain the blood from the lungs and the air from the chest cavity. Then, they could worry about reconstruction. Because that's what this was going to require, if whumpee was going to live, much less live through another one of the doubtlessly impending beatings whumper or whumper 2 was going to give them the moment caretaker stepped away they needed to open-

Caretaker caught the spiral again, focusing back on their breathing, slowing it.

"It's bad-" They stopped for a few half breaths, blinking slowly, and looking up through half lidded eyes, "isn't it?"

Caretaker looked down at whumpee. They hadn't realized it had shown. They hadn't meant to let it slip. But they wouldn't lie, "Yeah, whumpee. It's bad."

"Am I- g-gonna?" They couldn't say it.

"No." Caretaker was sure this time, "Not if I can help it."

"I-its gonna h-urt though, i-isn't it?"

"Yes."

[silverstonesainz-archive]

B [bath] with carlos <3

love me some carlito, the love of my life.

also thank u @vamossainz55 for helping me with translations &lt;3

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

prompt: so you had a bad day - [ BATH ]: sender runs a hot bath for the receiver after a particularly challenging day.

one of the many things you love most about carlos is his dedication and passion for his job. there isn't anything more attractive than carlos talking about the technical and logistical side of thing. and sure maybe you don't understand the numbers, maybe you can't fully wrap your head around how the aerodynamics work, but it doesn't change the fact that you could listen to carlos talk about it for ages.

and as strong as his mind is, his physical state is no different. even while on break, he wakes up early for a run and still fits in an hour workout after the fact. and the preparation is even more intense leading up to a race weekend. his training leading up to singapore was beyond insane, spending hours just sweating and getting ready for the hot and humid conditions of the city. every day he'd come home, absolutely drenched in sweat and ready for the coldest shower known to man. and then his head hits the pillow to go straight to sleep.

his performance come race day, though lacking in pace, was consistent enough to secure a spot on the bottom step of the podium. but you see how tired he is as he walks up to you and his team to accept the love and congratulations you all have to give. you watch proudly, next to charlotte, but the exhaustion on his face was evident as he accepts his p3 trophy and sprays champagne on his friends.

you give him a quick kiss and leave him with some kind words as you head back to the hotel while he finishes with the press. when he comes back, the color is completely drained from his face. you greet him at the door, and smiles at you tiredly.

"por que no estas dormida?" he asks, dropping his things by the door. why are you not sleeping?

"was waiting for you," you mumble, kissing his cheek.

he chuckles, "i just need five minutes, cinco minutos, then i'll get ready for bed. and then we can sleep. okay?"

you nod and he walks past you and flops on the loveseat by the air conditioning. you watch as he leans back, head falling back as he enjoys the cold air.

"feeling okay?" you ask, eyeing him.

"sí, just tired and sore," he mumbles, eyes still shut.

you don't say anything, watching him for a couple seconds more before you decide to retreat to the bathroom. you run the hot water, filling the tub and adding the hotel body wash to add bubbles. you let it fill just under three-fourths of the way. when you come back outside, carlos is already standing over his luggage, shirt on the floor and pants already unbuttoned and open.

you smile, watching as he pulls out a pair of boxers, before walking over to the bathroom. he looks at you quizzically, tilting his head as he approaches you.

"what are you smiling about?"

you shake your head, "nothing. c'mon." you take his hand and pull him into the bathroom. "i ran you a bath... figured it'll help you relax after the day you've had."

carlos chuckles, lifting your hand to give it a kiss. "eres tan buena conmigo, mi amor." you are so good to me, my love.

"least i can do. i'm so proud of you." you whisper, looking up at him with wide eyes that are filled with love and adoration. he looks down at you, eyes just as bright.

"thank you. now take this off," he plucks at your shirt, "and come join me."

fluff party!

[readyforthegarden]

Silver Springs - Part Ten

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Original Female Character

Synopsis: The year was 1976, the season was summer. The days were hot and the nights were hotter. Music was the best it had ever been, especially rock music. Sam Kiszka has been riding the high of being in one of the top bands on the scene, but when his bands tour is accompanied by another up-and-coming band, with a lead singer that gets on his very last nerve, will everything come crashing down or will they end up making music that changes the world?

Warnings: Angst, drinking, smoking, minor assault (arm being grabbed roughly at a bar!! nothing more!) mentions of blood, violence 18+ only, Minors DNI

A/N: Thanks to everyone and their patience with this update!! As we're heading into the last two or three chapters, we may go bi-weekly, just so I can make sure I give you all the best I can (and also stretch out saying goodbye to Harlow and Sam)! Love you all so much!!

WC: 2943

🎶 🎶 🎶

Harlow was lucky Jake Kiszka thrived on small amounts of sleep. She kept him up all night, working through the songs that were flowing through her. Cigarettes burned themselves down between her fingers as she paced their home, voicing out lyrics and melodies, harmonies. She would then drop the butt in the ashtray on their coffee table, leaning in to Josh for him to place another between her lips, lighting it for her before she moved away, taking one, single drag and ignoring it the rest of the time she paced. 

In her other hand, when there wasn’t a pen, was a whiskey laden highball, courtesy of Jake’s bar, which she helped herself to multiple times. Messy sips and slurps between bars of the songs they were writing. More than once, Josh noticed Harlow wiping a trickle of her drink from her chin as she started to sing before she fully swallowed. Her mind was frantic, more than he had seen her before in her writing process. She was starting to slur her words and trip over the rug. 

“Harlow,” Josh rested a hand on her arm, pausing her pacing. “I think you need to get some rest.” Tracing his hand down her elbow, he reached her wrist, feeling her pulse under his fingers, noting it was fast. “Come sit for a few minutes, you’ve been non-stop for hours.”

“I’m fine,” Harlow tried to pull away from him, but Josh kept his hand on her wrist, gazing up at her with a concerned, stern look. Jake stopped his strumming on the guitar in his lap. He’d given up hours ago on following Harlow’s stream of consciousness, merely plucking out melodies softly as she went on. “Josh-“

“Please.” she couldn’t refuse his plea, and sat on the couch, her body finally leaving it’s flight mode. She sank into the cushions, resting her head back. Josh gently took the drink from her hand, setting it away from her on the coffee table. “You should go up to bed.”

“I don’t know that I can fall asleep.” Harlow spoke softly, though her words betrayed how exhausted she was. 

“You will,” Josh reached out, brushing her bangs from her eyes. “I think it’s best if you stay here today.” Harlow nodded as Josh continued. “You both need more time away from each other.”

“I never wanna see Sam again.” Harlow’s voice was hard now, but wobbly, as if she was holding back a sob in her throat.

“I’m afraid that’s near-impossible.” Jake gave her sad smile. “At least for a few more weeks. If it makes you feel any better, I plan on kicking his ass so hard he won’t have a face for you to look at.”

“Now that I’d love to see.” Harlow shared a smirk with the younger twin.

“Come on,” Josh stood up, holding his hand out to Harlow. She took it, letting him pull her up from her sunken position on the couch. “Let’s get you tucked in.” Though there were hints of the sun beginning to rise, the pitch black night turning to a blue-gray hue out the windows. Josh brought her back to his bedroom, shutting the curtains to block out as much pale light as he could while Harlow crawled back between his sheets.

“Josh?” the young man hummed, picking up some papers she had written on before she had moved downstairs. “Thank you for everything.” setting the papers down on the nightstand, Josh smiled down at Harlow.

“Don’t sweat it, kid.” he ruffled her hair with a smirk, watching her roll away from him with a laugh and hunker down into bed, the liquor in her blood helping lull her off into a somewhat restful sleep. Josh continued to pick up his bedroom a bit, before going back downstairs and see Jake leaning against the kitchen counter, percolator dutifully making coffee next to him.

“Say what you want about Sam,” Jake murmured, flipping over one of the sheets of paper that littered their house now. “but he inspires one hell of a song.” Josh stood next to him, leaning over to see what was scrawled onto the paper. This was one Harlow hadn’t sang out loud, that he could tell, the words were unfamiliar, no melody playing in his head as he read them. “She’s mad as hell, man.”

“She has every right to be.” Josh took the paper from Jake’s hand, setting it on the counter. “Let’s just hope he’s ready to face her wrath.”

“You think it’s going to be bad?” Jake quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t think Sam is ever going to live this down.” Josh answered, nodding solemnly.

🎶 🎶 🎶

Harlow had slept through most of the day, waking up in the late afternoon, and calling a cab to take her back to her hotel. Josh and Jake had gathered up her writings, and she carried them carefully with her. When she was back in her own room, she took the time to shower, letting the past twenty-four hours wash away from her skin, her hair, everything but her mind. She had woken, set on satisfaction, and knew what she had to do.  

“Billy, it’s Harlow.” she spoke into the phone, sat on her bed, wrapped in a towel. Her hair was still dripping as she twirled the phone cord around her finger. “How fast can you and the guys get to Nashville?”

“Why?” Billy answered, sounding curious. “We’re not supposed to meet up until next week when we resume tour.”

“Inspiration struck, and I need you here.” was all the explanation Harlow gave. Billy waited for more, the there was nothing else for her to say.

“Okay, yeah. Give me a day to get everyone together.” Billy sighed into the phone, thinking about how much work it was going to be to wrangle up the rest of the band early. “Where are we meeting?” Harlow gave him the address to her hotel, saying goodbye shortly after. Sauntering back to the bathroom, she opened her makeup caddy, preparing for the night ahead.

🎶 🎶 🎶

The bar was loud and crowded, just like Harlow was hoping. She sat at the sticky bar, drinking her second whiskey sour of the night. Every so often, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar, smiling at the light, iridescent blue shimmer adorning her eyelids. Small lines of black liner flicking out into small points at the outer corners of her eyes gave her a sultry expression. 

Her light brown hair was darker in the dim lighting of the bar, adding to the look. She was considering going to a salon in the morning and darkening her locks permanently when an arm slung over her shoulders, catching her off guard.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing at a shithole like this?” glancing up, Harlow was met with bright green eyes and a charming smirk. 

“Don’t you know?” she sent back a smirk of her own. “Shitholes serve the best whiskey.” She took her drink and knocked it back, setting the empty glass back on the bar.

“A whiskey woman, huh?” the man leaned against the bar, an impressed smirk on his face. Harlow resisted rolling her eyes. “I like that.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” Harlow turned slightly on her stool, giving the man a playful yet quizzical look.

“Means they don’t mind a little pain with their pleasure.” Harlow almost laughed out loud, but kept her composure, hoping her biting her tongue came across as trying not to smile. 

“How about you buy me another drink and we can talk about that a little more?” 

“Can I get your name?”

“Harlow.” was all she offered, waiting for him to respond.

“Richard.” 

Time spent flirting with a stranger was time well spent in Harlow’s book. Richard was good-looking enough, a few times she wondered if she should bother taking him back to her hotel room. He was funny enough to make her genuinely laugh a few times, and she didn’t hate the way his hand would rest on her knee. 

It wasn’t until her name was called that she tore her eyes away from him, spotting Josh and Jake across the bar. Harlow smiled at them, giving them a nod that she saw them before starting to turn towards Richard again. As her eyes scanned the bar, her smile fell. She had spotted Danny while her smile was still in place, but quickly her eyes found Sam next to him. They were talking and looking around, presumably for Jake and Josh who were already starting to sit at a table. 

As the crowd parted around Sam and Danny, letting them through, Harlow’s eyes spotted movement behind Sam. She caught a glimpse of Cindy, almost straight out of a movie as she shook her hair from her face, smiling happily as she followed Sam.

“Wait, that’s-“ Richard looked from Jake and Josh to Harlow. “You know Greta Van Fleet?”

“It would seem that way.” Harlow’s interest was long gone now. All she wanted to do was finish her drink and leave, before Sam could spot her too. It was only a matter of time before Josh invited her to the table.

“Hey, can you like, get me into a show?” Harlow looked up to Richard, who looked at her expectantly. “I think they have a show coming up in a few weeks, right?”

“Yup,” Harlow took a long sip of her drink, hoping the one word answer would give him the hint. He didn’t, instead he leaned in, lowering his voice with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve never slept with a groupie before.” Harlow froze, knowing that when he said ‘groupie’ he absolutely meant her. 

“And you never will.” she said, taking the rest of her drink and splashing it into his face. “Thanks for the drinks, Dick. For the record, I’m not a groupie, I’m their fucking opening act.”

“You frigid bitch!” Richard grabbed Harlow’s upper arm, squeezing tightly, causing her stumble off her barstool as he tried to pull her up to his eye level. The way he glowered at her made her face burn with embarrassment, like when your mother would scold you in front of your friends. 

“Everything okay here?” Sam’s voice was hard, his mouth pressed into a stern line. He had been watching Harlow interacting with the young man since he stepped foot in the bar and spotted her. When the man leaned in, Sam made the excuse of checking on the table’s drink order to get closer, maybe hear what they were saying. 

“We’re fine.” Richard turned back to Harlow. “You can have your slut back.” he let go of Harlow, tossing her back from him as if she burned him. Catching herself on the stool, she saw everything in slow motion.

“The fuck did you just call her?” before anyone could stop it, Sam had reared his arm back, thrusting his fist into Richard’s face. Blood began pouring from Richard’s face, pooling in his palm as he grasped his nose, shouting in pain. “Don’t you ever let me hear you talk about her that way, do you understand me?”

“You’re fucking crazy.” Richard backed away, glaring at Harlow and Sam before finally turning and retreating towards the front door of the bar. Straightening herself, Harlow cleared her throat, avoiding eyes as the bar went back to their own business.

“Are you okay?” Sam was next to her now, eyes raking over her body. 

“I’m fine.” she replied shortly. “I could’ve handled it.”

“I know,” Sam sighed. “Harlow-“

“Hey, what the hell happened?!” Josh was wide-eyed, looking at Harlow. His eyes fell to her bicep, where an angry red handprint was fading. 

“A guy just got a little handsy, that’s all.” Harlow gave Josh a smile, one he saw right through. “I’m fine, Josh. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go home.”

“No, hey, come have a drink with us.” Josh pleaded. “That guy could be outside waiting,  come sit with us for a little bit.” Harlow fought a glance towards Sam. As much as she wished, she couldn’t stay petty forever.

“Fine. One drink.” 

Harlow was true to her word. One drink. Jake, Josh and Danny, however, had plenty, and were making it known. Jake, having recently learned Harlow’s government name, was overjoyed to find ‘Brandy’ by The Looking Glass on the bars jukebox. He held Harlow’s hand to his chest, a drunken, sloppy grin on his face as he sang to her, Danny’s arm wrapped around his shoulder and singing one of the most off-key harmonies she’d ever heard.

“The sailors say Brandy-that’s YOU!- you’re a fine girl!” Jake pointed to Harlow as he sang. “What a good wife you would be! Yeah your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea!” Danny dutifully coming in with the bridge harmonies. Once the song was over, Jake left, mumbling about it not being long enough and getting change from the bartender. Harlow was left alone at the table for a few moments of peace.

Or so she thought.

“They really like you.” Harlow turned in her seat, seeing Cindy now sitting next to her where Josh had been. 

“You think?” Harlow laughed a bit, glancing back at Jake who was in a heated argument about replaying the song with the bartender, pointing back to her. 

“I’ve known these boys since grade school.” Cindy smiled softly, her green eyes shimmering in the light. Harlow took in her face as Cindy explained their childhoods. Her face was bare, her summer tan being the only makeup she wore. Of course, she was naturally beautiful. She didn’t need the shimmers and shadows and lipsticks. Harlow felt suddenly overdone, no longer sultry, but instead like a clown, caked with makeup. “They’ve always been careful about who they let in. Not because they’re mean or a clique, but…when these boys care for someone, love someone? They love hard.”

“I can see that.” Harlow nodded, slowly turning her glass on it’s napkin, watching the melting ice dance inside.

“I thought for a minute when we met you were with Josh.” Cindy smiled sheepishly. 

“No, no.” Harlow shook her head. “We have a connection, but it’s…it’s more of platonic soulmates, I think.” Cindy nodded, tucking her silky hair behind her ear. “They’ve all been wonderful to us, me and my band.”

“That’s good. When they see talent, they support it.” Cindy nodded. A small silence fell between the two women before Cindy began idol chit-chat again. Harlow was waiting, waiting for the shoe to drop, for Cindy to ask if she was sleeping with her fiancé. But if she knew what was going on, Cindy made no mention. No hint that she knew what Sam and Harlow had been up to over the past few months. And Harlow found her so sweet and kind, she wouldn’t be the one to tell her. 

Harlow bit the tip of her tongue as the question bubbled up her throat during a small lull, the liquor in her system having began to wane, but she would blame it nonetheless.

“How long have you and Sam been engaged?” Cindy’s smile burst open, her bright, pearly teeth nearly blinding Harlow in the dim bar. 

“Technically since our senior year.” she explained, looking dreamily across the bar, where Sam was in a conversation with someone, laughing at a joke. Harlow’s heart panged sharply in her chest. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to go up and wrap her arms around his waist, sidling into his side and giggle with him at the joke, enjoying his warmth. But as she glanced to Cindy, she saw the same expression, full of love and admiration. Another crack in Harlow’s heart.

“Wow, that’s a long time to be engaged.”

“Oh yeah, well we were going to get married that July.” Cindy rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “But then the band took off, so we postponed it. And then one tour after another as they built up their success. There just hasn’t been time.”

“I get that.”

“How about you, anyone special?” Harlow snorted. What an ironic question for her to ask.

“Did you see what happened at the bar earlier?” she asked. Cindy took a moment, then nodded and laughed, realizing how silly her question was. “No, not at the moment.”

“Well, there’s someone for everyone.” Cindy said. “A lid for every pot, as my granny used to say.”

“Your granny sounds wise.” Harlow mused, a small laugh. She hated this. Every second of it. Cindy was a good person, trying to get to know the woman who had been sleeping with her fiancé. 

“She was. Listen, I’m so glad there’s another girl here. Sometimes being with all of them, it drives me nuts!” Cindy laughed, pulling a face, and doing it beautifully. “I really hope we can become great friends.” Harlow swallowed down the bile rising in her throat now.

“I do too.” she softly agreed. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” Cindy nodded, and Harlow quickly got up, heading towards the bathroom. Gripping the dingy sink, she tried to calm herself. Guilt wracked her body, tears stinging her eyes, surprising her that she had any left after the past twenty-four hours. 

Looking in the mirror, Harlow took in her appearance. Sweaty, mascara running, she turned on the faucet splashing her cheeks to wipe away the black streaks. When she was done, she re-examined herself. This Harlow was different. This Harlow was not the Harlow from days gone by.

This Harlow was going to get her revenge on Samuel Kiszka. 

For her, and for Cindy.

🎶 🎶 🎶

Taglist: @joshsindigostreak @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @sunfl0wer-power @indigo-starcatcher @sammyscherub @earthlysorrows @lvnterninthenight @allieisacrybaby @losfacedevil @xserenax-13 @sarakay-gvf @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @watchingovergvff @gretavanfleetposts @sacredthefran @josiee-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @madneedshelp @gardensgatedaisy @demonrat444 @writingcold @dannyandthekiszkas @lightmylove-gvf @tearsofbri @paleshadow-ofadragon @happy-harpy-stuff @like-a-woman-in-a-dream @starshine-wagner @objectsinspvce @josh-iamyour-mama @mountain-in-springtime @cal-a-bungaa @capturethechaos @jankandjonch @gvfpal

@allybjt @hippievanfleet @weightofbrokenbells @joshkiszkasbadussy @malany-gvf @ruby0antlers @samofthedawn @sacredjake @aim4thedoublee @diditallforyouu @gvfmarge @highladyofasgard @sammysvanfeet@gold-mines-melting @earthgrlsreasy @mountain-in-springtime @forcebond301 @stardust-and-shadows @llightmyllovee @gretavangroupie @comesofarsomehow @starcatcherkiszka @indigofallingsky @hellowgoodbye @hearts-hunger @fwzco

[aries-writingblog]

Enemy Fire: 27 (Epilogue)

Summary: There’s a new kid in town, and she’s got a city to usurp.

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

Word Count: 7.0k

Warnings: language, mentions of therapy/trauma

AN: sorry this took me so long but we’re here!! The final part of Enemy Fire. I hope all of you enjoyed the ride. Thanks for reading❤️

Eighteen months later

Jason pressed his nose against her hair; His thumb stroked an even pace against her ribs. His other hand rested on his belly, fingers laced with hers.

Curled up beneath the moonlight, her skin was soft. Smooth against the rough pad of his fingertips. Her body warmed the sheets with a comforting heat, a familiar temperature that always burned steadily beside his own, cold body.

YN snuggled in closer, pressed against his chest. Her own fingertips traced indecipherable love letters on his skin. Carving out the words and burning them into his body.

Branding him with emotion— baring it on his chest for all to see.

Unabashed.

It had taken time— so much time— for him to accept the physical self the way she had.

His nudity. Their intimacy.

His past, a patchwork of various memories, various periods of his life. Scars and ripped flesh, burns and various other mementos he had carried through the years.

Painful, darkened memories threaded each stitch.

It hadn’t disappeared overnight, his hatred and loathing glares. But with each kiss she pressed to the damaged parts of him, he felt his soul become a little lighter.

And that was all he needed, for now.

He risked movement for a chance to glance at her face. Serene, peaceful. Bathed in the moonlight flooding her bedroom. Her eyes closed, head resting against his heart.

Her cheek was pressed against his autopsy scar, and yet, he wasn’t bothered by it at all.

Jason felt boneless, all of his muscles fully relaxed into the mattress. Into her touch.

One of her many benefits, Yn’s presence brought safety. Warmth and security— a furnace beneath the sheets to keep the chill at bay.

He inhaled deeply, again. His arm squeezed tighter, squishing her against his side.

“Hey.” He called softly.

YN shifted, readjusting her head into the crook of his arm. She hummed in recognition of his words— he had her attention, though her eyes were closed.

This was the time to do it, if ever. Now was the opportune time to talk, without interruptions. Without either of them getting upset at the other. They were both far too exhausted to argue.

And he couldn’t wait another minute. He had put this conversation off for two weeks, backing out at the last minute every time he thought of bringing it up.

Not this time.

Jason steadied himself with a deep inhale. Exhale.

“You wanna move in together?”

The silence was stifling. Oppressive.

Yn’s stillness against him was now nerve wracking. Unsettling.

How fast the night changes… how the same circumstances could go from soothing to world ending.

“Do you?” YN asked, keeping her eyes forward. Her head unmoving, body stiff against his.

He could feel the tension, the unease leeching into his own muscles. The more he spoke, the worse it would be, but he had to do something. Besides sit in this mess.

“I mean… we practically live here now. Together.” He spoke quietly, bashfully.

“Jason.” She exhaled his name sharply. She rolled over to her back, still settled against his body. His steadily increasing heart rate, pressed to her cheek. “We’ve been through this before. We tried the relationship thing and it didn’t work out.”

He sighed, exhaling through his nose at her opposition.

She had a point; They had tried the couple thing, around seven months prior. They had been friends with benefits for months, how much different could an actual relationship be?

As it turned out, very different.

Neither could fully commit to the deal. It had lead to arguments and fights. Most of them ending in one of them sleeping on the couch, or leaving the apartment entirely.

It would end in days of not talking, not seeing each other. There were several times Jason was sure she was dead— he would go on patrol at night, and keep an eye out. Certain that he would find her somewhere, and his last words to her were something awful.

In the end, they backed away from each other. Taking a break. Isolation lasted two months before their beneficial relationship started back up.

Getting caught back in the orbit. Unable to stop revolving around the other.

Things had been better, since the break. They didn’t run anymore. If there was a problem, they faced it head on. No matter how excruciating it was to dredge out feelings and thoughts.

The fights had been minimal.

Jason was happy again. And if Yn’s smile had anything to say, he knew she was too.

She didn’t want to obliterate either’s source of the joy. To her, the risk wasn’t worth the reward. But to Jason— he would’ve risked it all to keep her close.

“It’s working now.” He protested, softly.

YN pushed herself up onto her elbow, hovering over him. His eyes were bright, practically glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. His cheeks glinted— tear tracks still drying.

Her hand broke away from his grasp, coming to rest against his cheek. He nuzzled into her palm, allowing her thumb to wipe at his tears. She trailed down from the apples of his cheeks, brushing lightly over the scar that stretched out from his lip.

His breath hitched, eyes vulnerable. Staring up at her as if she was the only person in the world.

It was enough to make her heart ache. Her chest feel too heavy.

“Is it?” She asked.

Jason’s heart throbbed. She wasn’t asking because she knew it wasn’t working; She was asking to make him think twice. As if he hadn’t thought about it until his brain melted.

YN was only being logical.

He understood her need to protect against his antics. Their first relationship failed, and their recent one was purely physical (from the outside).

But he knew better. He could feel it.

This was the perfect time. Before, it had been rushed and overly dependent.

But now… now was perfect. He just had to convince her to try again.

“Of course it is.” He insisted. His fingertips brushed over her hip, coasting along the crest of the bone. Attempting to distract her from overthinking. “We come home to each other, make meals together, share everything—“

“Argue, throw things, you leave the toilet seat up—“

“I’m working on that.” He injected.

YN chuckled, the tension beginning to splinter off.

She wasn’t surprised at his offer; Initially, yes, but she could’ve seen this move coming from a mile away.

His progress had been astounding. His mild aversion to touch was nearly desolate, most of his anger was gone. He hadn’t relapsed in weeks. The drifting depression had all but vanished.

He was talking things through, instead of keeping them in or finding ways around the problem.

All that progress would be heaved backward, if their breakup happened again. And it would be her fault. She didn’t know if either of them could bare that weight.

“I don’t want to break your heart again.” She whispered. Keeping her voice low, trying to salvage the atmosphere.

He sighed, hands stalling to rest in the crease of her thigh. The room fell silent— the world along with it.

All waiting, holding a breath.

Listening closely.

“I want to call you mine.” Jason finally exhaled, his admission quiet and soft.

More than anything, he wanted to call her his own. His girl, his love. His everything.

He wanted to hold her hand, he wanted to snap at guys who brushed a little too close.

He wanted her to leave marks on his neck and lipstick on his cheek.

Jason wanted to be obliterated and pieced together again. He wanted all of her to meet all of him. To smash into each other like meteors, leaving behind the beginnings of a new world.

YN edged closer, fingertips brushing dark curls out of his eyes. The silvery, white chunk blended in the other strands. Her pointer finger gently touched a freckle, sitting on his temple, near his eyebrow.

She hoped he knew what he was doing. What they were getting into.

But she couldn’t even lie to herself and say his words didn’t spark a fire in her belly. Warming her chest with emotion she hadn’t felt with anyone else.

“Then do it.” YN murmured. His gaze traveled from her lips, to her eyes. A sincerity in the hues that he had been seeing more often than not, nowadays. “Because I’m yours Jason Todd. Completely, irrevocably, yours.”

An uncontrolled grin broke over his face; He sprang up, tackling her to the mattress.

YN squealed, falling back. Jason hugged around her midsection, pressing kisses to her face.

She squirmed back, her head falling off the side. A sharp cry of surprise left her lips. Jason secured his hands around her waist. YN suppressed her laughter, enough to threaten him.

“If you knock me off this bed, I swear Jason—“

“Then I’ll join you and we’ll fuck on the floor.” He shrugged, tugging her back onto the mattress. Her thighs draped about his waist, his torso towered over her.

Yn’s face flushed, both hands coming up to cover her face bashfully.

“Good god.” She grumbled, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes.

Jason hummed, hands running along the outside of her thighs. Up to rest against her ribs.

“Right here, sugar.”

YN grunted, another flare of her flames bursting as she changed directions. The wind sliced through her padded uniform, but with how much she had been moving through the night, it didn’t affect her much.

“Incoming on your right, Tailspin.” Oracle’s voice informed through her ear piece.

YN growled, spinning in the air. Sure enough, a grunt worker was barging in, throwing a hand up to catch her ankle as she passed him. Turning her flames onto him, he ducked to dodge, right as she dropped to her feet.

“God, I wish you people would drop that shit.” She sent a roundhouse kick to the man’s temple. He crumpled into a heap on the ground, without so much as a noise.

“No way. You get branded in this family and you keep it forever.” Barbara teased.

YN swung around, throwing a knife into the kneecap of another approaching man.

“I’m beginning to see that.”

She reached for another knife, to incapacitate his second kneecap, only to be interrupted by a screech of pain.

A batarang lodged itself three inches deep in the man’s thigh. Sending him sobbing to the ground.

YN turned around, lifting her eyes to the rooftops. A shadowy figure stood, the moonlight against his back. Little bat ears depicting who had lent her aid.

Giving a two finger salute, YN turned back to her previous endeavor. Finishing up her work quickly.

Once she had all thirteen guys bound and gagged, she snatched one of their phones. Dialing 911 and leaving it at their feet.

She took off to the sky again, blazing trails propelling her higher.

Jason really needed to look into night guards on his properties. These raids had been more frequent, ever since she herself had conducted one against him. It had been partially her fault— she inspired all these idiots to attempt what she had— so she offered to help him clean it up.

He agreed it was her fault and took her up on the offer.

She couldn’t win them all with seduction, she supposed. There were only so many times she could press herself against him to distract, before he became wise.

Landing on the rooftop, her boots were quiet as she sidled up to the masked vigilante.

“You’re getting powerful.” Batman muttered.

She hummed— wondering how long he had been watching.

“I’ve always been powerful— now I’ve got it under control.” YN shook her hand out, her wrist stiff and sore. Barbara added the wrist braces to her uniform a couple weeks ago, to prevent any strain. “Been practicing.”

He hummed. Bruce knew how hard she had been working, lately. Gaining power over her abilities. Of course she had always had a respectable amount of control of her abilities, but her self control had needed adjusting.

Although she didn’t work with Batman, she was adjacent. The same way Red Hood was. And so she worked in the same manner: if there was a dead body, Bruce didn’t know.

She was appreciative of his work— how he operated and his No Kill policy. She admired his strength. His discipline.

But YN wasn’t Bruce. No matter how many times she tried to give her targets the benefit of doubt, her mind circled back again and again to the relief she felt after Adrian was gone.

She had the ability to give others that safety. That power.

So his path of forgiveness would have to wait. If it would ever come around, at all.

And Bruce was leaving well enough alone. YN wasn’t on a rampage, he knew her heart was in the right place, even if her methods were unsavory.

It wasn’t like any of the rest of his crew were better than she was, at times.

She had no true alliances, besides Red Hood. Tailspin only helped Batman on rare occasions she couldn’t find anything else to get into. Or if she needed information. Even then, she mainly asked as YN, not her night stalking alter.

Bruce didn’t hold her against it. Once she finished her parol, she was off the hook. Of course, her anonymity had been destroyed, as well as the public’s view of her. She didn’t care.

She didn’t do her work for the fame or notoriety. She did it to be better. And that was something Bruce could stand behind.

Though, the media was having a field day with the fact that she and Jason Todd Wayne were ‘dating’. But the two proved elusive and could rarely be spotted together in public.

Thinking of two troublemakers…

“You two are coming to our holiday, right?” He asked, shifting his attention away from the streets of Gotham to the woman standing beside him.

She was fiddling with her uniform— clearly unhappy with how it currently misbehaved.

“I’ll talk to him.” YN grumbled, readjusting the holster straps across her thighs.

Not only had Barbara added braces, but upgraded holsters and they hadn’t cooperated even for one moment. The buckles had gotten tangled in the straps earlier, twisted around.

And now, they were caught in her cargo pants.

Awesome.

“How’s he been?” Bruce asked.

Finally untangling the buckles, YN straightened, her gaze turning to the city. Lips pressed together, brow furrowed.

Just because Jason had started talking with his family again, didn’t mean he was getting along with them all the time. It didn’t mean all the conversations were bright or sunny, either.

While his personal progress has been exponential, his familial progress was slow, to say the least. After he moved back out of the Manor, with YN in tow behind him, he had trouble sleeping. Even after days of pushing himself to his limits, he would lie awake at night.

Sometimes, YN would catch him staring off into space. Mouthing words to a conversation she wasn’t privy to. It had been unsettling the first few times, but now it was disconcerting.

Jason never shared what those were about, and frankly, she didn’t think she needed to know.

Some things were better kept as a secret.

“Getting better. His therapist is good— she’s not letting him slip.” YN divulged, giving the vaguest descriptions she could.

Sure, he did share some details with her but most were kept under confidential, HIPAA lock and key. Sentences muttered only to his therapist and they never left the office.

But even the few things he did manage to share with her, YN wasn’t going to go around telling his whole family.

Those words were also confidential. Stuck between the two of them, in the melting ice cream they shared before bed.

Bruce seemed to understand. He nodded, leveling his gaze out to the city as well.

“Good. He needs a strong hand.” He commented easily.

YN snorted.

“He needs several.” She teased. Bruce hummed, amused. She cast a sidelong glance to the vigilante at her side. “Your hand is always gonna be included in that, by the way.”

He didn’t show it, but his brain instantly dropped service. Unable to focus on anything other than her words— the words that made his heart slam against his chest.

“So, you don’t see me as a nuisance anymore?” He asked, attempting to feign nonchalance. Tamping his excitement down as far as he could, to prevent showing his hand to her.

YN hummed, fingertips brushing back and forth over the handle of a knife. Strapped to her hip.

“You’re still a nuisance. But you’re his dad, he’ll always need you.” YN admitted. She could practically feel the excitement, radiating from his being. “And Alfred.”

“And you? How’s your therapy been?”

“Rough. But worth it.” She confided, weakly.

She hadn’t been the most receptive to her therapy; She hadn’t wanted to go at all. Her monster was dead, and she killed him. She disbanded his lingering mob in New York, and Jersey. Sold all his properties and stocks.

Jason still convinced her to go. She despised him for it, wouldn’t talk to him for days following the appointments. They were mountainous and dark, some things didn’t make sense and others she refused completely.

But it was slowly getting better.

YN couldn’t shake the anxiety therapy gave her. She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Several shoes, actually.

Yn’s phone buzzed against her thigh, where it sat in her zipped pocket. Fishing it out, she acknowledged Jason’s name and the picture of him in the kitchen. No shirt, just boxers and an apron covering his chest as he cooked breakfast. Early morning light streaming into the room.

One of her favorite candids.

One of her favorite memories. No matter how many times he tried erasing it.

Pressing answer, YN stepped off a few paces. One finger signaling to Bruce.

“Hello?” She resisted the urge to immediately ask what was wrong. Jason rarely called, much less while either of them were on patrol.

Tamping down the rush of anxiety, she waited for him to speak to her.

“Hey, you still out?” His voice was slightly tinny over the device, muffled.

But she could hear the thud of his boots dropping to the ground. He must’ve had her on speaker.

“Yeah. We’re on the last leg, now. I’ll be an hour, at most.” She answered. Jason grunted, knees pressed to his chest— tongue poked out slightly as he tugged his shoes on.

“Kay, I’m headed out for the day, leaving the window unlocked.”

YN gave a quiet ‘okay’. He usually left his window unlocked for her. At first it was a trick to get her into his apartment, complaining he couldn’t keep leaving it unlocked in hopes she was in the mood that night. Now, it was more of a routine.

Glancing back over her shoulder to the Bat, YN bit her lip. Now wasn’t the time to discuss the holiday gathering. Or why he hadn’t told her about it.

“Don’t forget—“

“I haven’t.” Jason assured her. Tonight was the night they agreed to sit down and talk through the mechanics of actually moving forward. It was a dinner date at a fancy restaurant. Her first fancy meal, since arriving in Gotham. Besides Alfred’s cooking, of course. “Geez, you treat me like a child.”

“You act like a child.”

“You act like a bitch.”

YN barked out a laugh, actually amused by his insults. Jason smiled to himself, as well.

“Be safe.” She advised.

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see.

“Got it.” Jason confirmed, listening as the call ended. He tied off his lace, getting to his feet and snatching his phone. Shoving it into his pocket before he was on his way out of the door.

YN stared at the screen for a moment before tucking it safely into its pocket. She turned back to Bruce, zipping the pocket.

“Let’s wrap this up, pretty boy.” She grumbled, stepping up to the ledge. They had one last area to scan before they could finish. “My guy is starting to get nervous.”

Bright fluorescent lights bounced against the laminate flooring. Children screeched and the chatter of a crowded grocery store was beginning to cause Damian a headache.

He wasn’t the only one of the group that the impromptu venture was distressing. Drake seemed to be bored out of his mind, Duke was half insane with anxiety over the crowds and his list.

Grayson seemed to have elevator music playing on repeat in his mind.

“This sucks.” Tim groaned, head tilting back. He stared at the ceiling for thirty seconds. “I hate shopping with you people.”

“I’m just trying to get the right gifts, alright? It’ll only take a second.” Dick grunted, phone in hand as he searched the shelves before him.

“No it won’t, you’re so indecisive you make everything difficult.” Damian argued. He didn’t even want to go to the store, so close to a holiday. People, who had the same meager thought processes as Dick, packed the shopping centers with fervor.

Scrambling to finish their lists and prepare for last minute get togethers.

Crowds was not where he wanted to be at any time, but his father insisted he go.

It was suspicious, but he knew it was because of the childish games his father wanted to surprise everyone with. For the entire month of December, he had been hiding a strange elf creature around the manor and the first to find it won a prize.

Damian had refused to participate, even when the elf was blatantly left in places where he would find it first. He simply picked it up and relocated it for someone else to find.

Much to Bruce’s chagrin, he would not be participating in any sort of childish events during the holidays. He wouldn’t even attend the dinner, had it not been in his own home.

Tim, however, had a million other things he would’ve rather done. Instead of grocery shopping and babysitting.

Somehow, it wasn’t fair that he was sent out with his idiot siblings, while the girls got to decorate the Manor. And no one even knew where YN was— which was concerning, but when asked, she told him to mind his own business.

“It’s not my fault you waited until Mary was giving birth to start holiday shopping.” Tim grouched, shooting off another text to Kon, then beginning a new text to send to his newest interest.

“Remind me why you insisted everyone join us? We couldn’t have come by ourselves?” Duke asked, checking another item from Alfred’s list.

He had been sent to ensure the group would actually shop and be back to the Manor at an appropriate time. Ever since he had seen Alfred brandishing a sawed off shotgun at an intruder, he had been slightly terrified of the butler.

And if Alfred have him specific instructions on shopping and deadlines, by god Duke was gonna get it done. He wasn’t gonna let any of the very distracting bat kids fool him, either.

“I need several opinions.” Dick explained, scrolling through the app on his phone. Searching for the perfect gifts, he had neglected to get before hand.

“The voices in your head don’t give you enough?”

Dick scowled, unsure of which boy the muttering came from. To solve that issue, he simply tugged on both of their ears.

“Cut it out!” Damian slapped at his hands, shoving away from the larger man.

“You’ve got maybe five minutes before I go rogue, like Jason.” Tim jutted a thumb over his shoulder.

Dick frowned, turning back around. Sure enough, they were missing a member of the group.

“Jason?” He asked, eyes searching out the tallest brother. He hadn’t even noticed when he snuck away. “When did he—“

“Dammit!” Duke cried, nearly panicked. “I told you all to stay close, I don’t want to hunt any of you down and we have to be back by eleven! If he makes us late—“

“I’ll find him.” Dick promised, quickly slipping away and scurrying across the crowded store.

Duke cursed again, dread filling his stomach. Tim sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“I’ll follow him.” He trudged off in the direction of his escaped brothers.

“And I’ll follow him.” Damian promised. He didn’t want to be here any longer than he had to be. Knowing the trio of older brothers he had, they would be sure to get distracted.

Duke exhaled. Regaining his calm. It was a shame that he relied on the word of a young teenager more than his friend and a fully grown man, but, so was the way of the bat family.

At least he could move faster without the group weighing him down.

A broad shouldered, six foot something man stood in the middle of the showroom. Hands in his pockets, staring at a glass case.

Sidling up beside his brother, Dick’s eyes fell to the display case. Glittering gems embedded in sterling silver and gold, all shining brightly.

Waiting for a lucky someone to choose the perfect cut, perfect design.

To give to their special someone.

Dick’s heart leapt in stark realization. A rush of euphoria grappling hold over his mind.

He choked it down— playing cool. Jason would never share anything if he got too excited. Which really sucked sometimes; Because Dick wanted nothing more than to show his brother how excited he was that he found YN.

“You thinking about it?” Dick asked, casually. Hands tucked into his pockets.

Jason snorted, his eyes set on a certain piece near the back.

“Hell no.” He answered.

Lies.

Jason had thought about it. Before they broke up. He had thought that, maybe if he proposed to her, maybe if he showed her he was serious, then she would accept. They could leave behind some of their issues.

But now, Jason was glad he didn’t do it. It would’ve ruined everything. For good.

He didn’t even know if YN wanted to get married. Ever. They had been so busy arguing and living in the moment, back then. They had rarely talked of the future.

“Seriously? You two have been together forever.” Dick grumbled.

Jason scoffed, turning away from the display cases.

“One year is not forever.” He argued. Dick rolled his eyes, mocking his words.

Jason’s hands were instantly out of his pockets, and reaching for his brother’s shirt. A scowl on his face.

“I’ll put you through a window.” Jason growled, eyes baring down into Dick’s.

Dick put his hands on Jason’s wrists, staring him down. Almost daring him.

Luckily, intervention occurred before Jason could escalate his threats. It came in the form of Timothy Drake, sauntering up to the pair. Damian trailed after him— his face burning at the pair of grown men, threatening each other in public.

“They aren’t even a couple— it’s a ‘situationship’.” Tim announced, making finger quotes around the word.

Jason’s face flared with heat, making the hoodie he was wearing practically unbearable.

‘Situationship’ was even worse than Dick’s implications.

Situationship implied that one of them wasn’t even remotely interested in the other, past the physical. And Jason knew better. Because YN wasn’t that person. He knew she wasn’t that person.

“For your information, asshole, we’re…” He paused. Catching himself before he let his heart spill through the cracks. “We don’t have labels.”

“So you’re together?” Dick prodded.

Jason pressed his lips together, firmly.

They weren’t ‘girlfriend and boyfriend’, they agreed to talk it out. Give a relationship another go. Besides, those titles felt juvenile and stiff. YN wasn’t some girl. She was part of him, as narcissistic as it sounded.

He felt dizzy by the line of questioning; Unsure of things.

But that was fine, right? They were still talking things out and everything would get better after some time.

Then again, it had been three weeks since their conversation. And still, he was unsure about titles, of all things.

“I don’t like this conversation.” Jason stated, shoving his hands into his pockets. Not quite uncomfortable, but definitely uneasy.

“Neither do I. Can we move away from Todd’s extracurriculares?” Damian complained, flicking a predatory glare at two younger children who stepped too close.

“Come on, we’re gonna be late.” Duke pushed through the group, having completed his own gathering tasks.

Luckily, he found them before Damian could guide the group back toward him. He corralled the gaggle of them forward, making another head count to ensure everyone was present.

He stopped the cart in one of the checkout lines, going down his list again to triple check. Then he did another head count. Everything was in order.

“Oh my god!” Dick swooped forward, his tone incredulous. Jaw dropped open, eyes glued to the magazine in his hands. “Look at that angle! I look horrible!”

Jason frowned, snatching the copy. The title was in bold, yellow ink.

‘Nightwing: Friend or Menace? Bludhaven’s Saucy Night Crawler Bribing the Police?’

Dick’s alter ego was plastered on the front page, mid swing.

“They’re framing you for bribery.” Jason pointed out.

“I know,” Dick pouted. But still, his eyes remained on the magazine cover. “They could’ve at least gotten my good side.”

Jason rolled his eyes, shoving the tabloid back into its place. His goal of moving on from the aisle was blocked by Dick’s body.

He grumbled under his breath, nudging the man’s shoulder to move. Dick slapped his hand away, quickly picking up the magazine copy.

Jason scowled.

“Why are you buying that? You’re just giving them reason to make more of those bogus claims.” He challenged. Dick crammed the copy beneath his other items.

“It’s my face, I can make whatever bogus claims I want.” He muttered.

Dick was half tempted to buy out the store’s entire stock; And he would’ve— if it wasn’t suspicious. Besides, he needed to keep an eye out for Nightwing, anyways. If anything happened to be a little too close to accurate in the article, he would be in trouble.

Because unlike Jason, who’s cover story was that he was legally dead, Dick had to watch his footing in the press. Both as a Wayne, and a vigilante.

“You’re impossible.” Jason determined, stalking after the group of degenerates he called family. Duke nearly called out in anger, before Jason held up the car keys.

Damian quickly followed, eager to escape the grasp of public shopping in the holiday season.

The Manor was loud.

Louder than normal, anyways.

YN closed the door after herself, and followed the sound.

One of the sitting rooms had Just Dance still on the television screen, the characters moving endlessly on a waiting screen.

Various jackets had been discarded on the couches. Shoes kicked off at the door. Pillows seemingly launched at the participants, from what she could see from their new positions on the ground.

Jason had told her that morning that the whole family was going to be at the manor, all day. If she wanted to join. As interesting and tempting as the proposal was, YN declined.

She found a lead on a case— that she hadn’t shared with him, yet, in fear that he would shut her down. Claiming she was chasing ghosts.

She told him she was going to run a few errands before meeting up with them later. Most of it was truthful.

She did run errands.

And then she hunted down her lead. Which was technically an errand.

Either way, it was near sundown.

And there was a slight ache, to know she missed out on some of the festivities and fun. She could dismiss it, knowing that her nose was always right.

She just had to figure out how to tell Jason about the weapons being smuggled into Gotham, without him scolding her for going off alone again.

But for now, she would settle for just being near him. Wondering how many rooms she had to search in the Manor to find him.

She didn’t search much longer, though. To her delight, she found him in the kitchen. He was finishing up with a pie, brushing egg yolk over an unbaked crust. Flour stained the red apron wrapped around his waist, and he seemed to have a little more white in his hair than usual.

Taking advantage of his obliviousness, YN snatched a hand towel from the counter. She waited until he straightened, finished with his task, and then whipped the edge at his ass.

Jason nearly leapt out of his skin, his knees colliding with the cabinet doors, noisily. Egg yolk sloshing dangerously in its mixing cup.

He spun around, scowling. YN stood innocently, twirling the rag with a grin on her lips.

“The hell is wrong with you?” He demanded, gruffly.

“I waited until you were finished.” She argued.

“Gee, thanks. Really takes the sting outta my ass.” He slid his tools back to the counter and carefully moved his pie to a sheet pan.

“You couldn’t feel it through your pants.”

“You don’t know what I can feel through these pants.”

Jason slid the pan into the oven. Turning back to face her, he untied his apron and draped it on the island counter.

Reaching out, he snagged her around the waist. Sunlight fell in strips around the kitchen. The sunset glowing fiery red and orange, leaving his skin tinted with warmth. His eyes held a sparkle she hadn’t seen in a while.

His fingertips pressed into her back, urging her closer. Leaning into her, he went in for a kiss. Only for her to pull her head back and to the left.

He frowned, leaning back to look at her.

“First time I’ve seen you all day and I can’t even get a kiss?” Jason complained, brows furrowed.

“No.” YN replied, her hands falling to his sweater.

Her fingers twisted the fabric into her fists, and she pulled him in. Jason couldn’t stop the smirk on his lips as they collided.

He was never one for public displays but… God, she made him feel powerful. Like he held everything right there, in his hand. Every touch left him breathless.

He didn’t even care his family was in the next room, quite possibly listening in.

She pulled away, eyes glittering in the manor’s lighting.

“You suck.” He croaked, the dopey grin on his face showing his true hand.

YN hummed, pecking a second kiss to his nose.

“I know.” She patted his chest twice, then backed away. Fingertips dragging along his shoulder as she treaded toward the dining room.

Jason stared after her for a minute, at least.

He wasn’t even aware his feet had been moving him, until he bumped into a dining chair. His face flushed red, at the scraping noise it made against the hardwood floor. His hands darted out to fix the askew furniture.

YN suppressed a grin, sinking her canines into her lip.

Jason cleared his throat. He pulled the chair back further, nodding for YN to sit. Attempting to play off his fumble.

She sat, without opposition, and let him push the chair in to the table. He selected the chair beside hers, closest to the exit. Shielding her body.

Stephanie cooed, her hand pressed to her chest. Right above her heart.

“You two are disgusting.” She complained, cheerily. She yanked a chair out, flopping into it ungracefully. As Alfred began to transfer dishes from his cart, to the table, Steph waved a hand to him. “No need to set a room for me, Alfred, I’ll be sleeping on the highway.”

“Very well, miss, would you also like your breakfast delivered?” He asked, leaning between Bruce and Damian to fill the table.

“No, just a tombstone.” She confirmed. She put both hands into the air, as if displaying a title of a show. “‘Here lies Stephanie Brown: Died of singularity.’”

Tim snorted, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Dramatic.” He decreed.

“I am not!”

YN nudged Tim’s ribs gently, rolling her eyes at Steph’s outlandish comedy. He returned the gesture, digging in a little deeper than she had, just because. With a hint of a grin on his lips.

While he hadn’t been her biggest fan when she first arrived, the two were mild acquaintances now. They mainly chatted during family events (when Jason told her about them) but they kept themselves entertained and out of trouble.

It had taken a few, hard looks in the mirror for both Tim and YN, to realize, they saw bits of themselves in each other. And maybe the reason they disapproved of each other was perhaps because, deep down, they disapproved of themselves, or whatever bullshit Dick spouted to get them in the same room together.

In the end, the two had teamed up against Dick and shamed him for many aspects of his life and choices; Which left him half irritated by their antics, and partially proud his plan worked.

Dick had not been discouraged by the pair; As he stood up at the dinner table, magazine in hand.

The pages slapped together as he tossed it to the table in front of Bruce.

Bruce, who had his spoon halfway to his mouth, peered up through his lashes at his son.

“Bruce, just take a look at that.” Dick demanded, crossing his arms.

He did as instructed, casting his gaze down to the issue before him. His son’s alter ego plastered across the front page, bold words surrounding his frame.

“Wow.” He commented, nodding at it. “You’ve been promoted to bribery.”

“The picture, Bruce. The picture.” Dick stressed, jabbing his finger into his own, printed face. He dragged it down, directing his complaint to the appropriate area. “My ass looks flat.”

Bruce frowned, scanning the rest of the magazine’s cover.

“That’s not the point of any of this.” He determined, pushing it back across to his bewildered son. “I’m not commenting on your rear end.”

Dick groaned, collapsing back into his seat with a flourish. Head lolling back in frustration.

“Oh come on! Anyone gonna comfort me?”

Duke cupped his hands around his mouth:

“Damn— look at that thick ass white boy!”

YN snickered, slicing through her pork loin skillfully. Dick ignored her, in favor of his pity compliment.

“Thanks, Duke. You’re the only one who’s ever cared.”

Bruce barked out a laugh, grinning down at his plate.

“I only took you in after a series of unfortunate events, and Alfred had to go along with it.” He shrugged, nonchalantly.

Alfred hummed in agreement, finishing up his duties before pushing his cart out of the room and down the hallway.

“I thought you hated these tabloids.” Barbara interrupted, grabbing the magazine to inspect for herself.

“I do. Your point?” Dick questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

Barbara sent him a suspicious glance but passed the magazine to Cass when she signaled for it. She made a face before tossing it to the floor, under the table.

Dick cried out in dramatic outrage.

‘Your ass is flat, let’s move on.’ She signed, picking up her utensils to resume eating.

It sent Dick into a tailspin. Raving about the respect he gets in the household, and just how many more brats are you gonna raise, Bruce?

All in good nature, Jason supposed.

He glanced to his side, where YN sat, eating quietly, simply observing the chaos.

“You good?” He whispered.

YN met his gaze, with a smile.

“Great.” She replied, her hand finding his thigh and her fingertips pressing into his skin. Squeezing gently.

She let her hand rest there for the remainder of the dinner; Jason was practically buzzed from the pressure of her touch. Even if it wasn’t skin on skin.

Alfred stood idly, preparing various mugs while Bruce attempted to garner the attention of his motley crew.

Everyone was gathered, post dinner, in the main living room. Damian was crashed on one of the couches, but still in the room. Bruce gave him credit for trying.

The rest of the group was mingling— tossing out various taunts and threats to each other as they prepared for the hunt.

Alfred passed Bruce a mug of hot chocolate, still steaming.

Once it was secured, Bruce whistled sharply. All eyes snapped to him, eagerly waiting.

“The elf has been hidden again and the search can begin….” Bruce paused, holding his breath. “Now!”

Jason immediately pressed his palm into Yn’s face and pushed her backward. She stumbled, arms flailing out to catch herself.

“Ow— hey!” She snapped, kicking at his shin. Jason shook her off and bolted ahead of her.

“There’s no way I’m letting you cheat again.” He shouted, over his shoulder.

YN scowled, righting herself against the wall.

“I didn’t even cheat that time!”

“Yeah, right.”

She growled, pushing off the wall— leaving a palm shaped scorch mark in her place— and took off after him.

Concern of winning the elf had now dwindled, in favor of strangling her partner.

“You son of a bitch— get back here!” YN’s voice boomed, echoing through the hallway as she chased him down. At a disadvantage against his head start sprint. “Say it to my face!”

Bruce barely even winced at the crashing sound, deeper in the manor, nor was he concerned of the mark on the wall. Both had become unnervingly common since he had adopted his children.

Alfred stood one step behind him, observing the quick patter of feet, all across the manor. The shrieking laughter and vicious taunts shared between the siblings and friends.

There were more distinct thuds, suspiciously akin to when YN hit the wall prior. More shouting followed. And it sounded like her voice.

“Those two may never grow up.” Alfred warned, staring down the hallway.

“Lord, no,” Bruce agreed, a little too hastily to be anything other than truth. “Though, I think we all appreciate Jason being a little less serious.”

“I’m rather proud to see them both act so childishly.” Alfred admitted. He wasn’t even the least bit annoyed when any of the children were childish (and there were moments when he was entitled to his emotions regarding the fact). But Jason had never been like the others. Always so guarded, even as a child. He never received a proper childhood. Now, he was getting one. At least, portions of one. “They’re good to each other.”

Bruce hummed, tilting the mug to mix his drink again.

“Cheers to that.”

[peaches2217]

🥶

🥶 Cold

Sunlight

~~~

Winter was slow in the Beanbean Kingdom.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised Luigi. The Beanish people were some strange mix of mammalian and plant matter, meaning their body temperature, already low by human standards, fluctuated with the changing of seasons. Sunlight was something they not only thrived in, but required to remain fully functional.

Everything from ramshackle huts to the Grand Palace itself were structured to let in as much of it as possible for as many hours as possible, and nights were almost surreal in their hush once that sunlight was gone. Their peak festival and harvest seasons lay between late spring and early autumn, and even when the air was frigid, they would drag themselves outside bundled in fifteen layers of sweaters and scarves just to feel the sun on their faces.

And when the sun wasn’t out in the dead of winter, well, nothing got done at all.

Yes, the more he thought about it, the less surprising the slow winters were. What did surprise him was how deeply he enjoyed the tedium anyway.

“Regale me again with tales of your winter holidays,” Peasley moped. He bustled about the castle without pause, tending to the innumerable flowers that brought color and oxygen into its bleak halls with hands that shook constantly. All morning he had paced as he read through papers and notes that needed his attention, and when he was forced to stop and provide a signature or write down his thoughts, he’d bounced on his toes like an impatient toddler until he could move once more. His duties complete, he now did everything in his power to create work for himself, all in the hopes of staying just a bit warmer.

This was routine, Luigi had quickly learned. The crown prince didn’t have the luxury of waiting out the winter in one comfortable, secure spot. He yearned to be a successor in his mother’s image, productive and proactive in all areas of life, and that meant he couldn’t shoulder his responsibilities off to her or Lady Lima, and he certainly couldn’t leave them for more tolerable weather.

He was very proud of his own resolve, never passing up an opportunity to brag about how humble and selfless a leader he was… until the first day winter’s chill became strong enough to reach their bed. “Save me, my love,” he’d groaned into Luigi’s chest, and Luigi had promised with a soft laugh that he’d do his best.

“Which holiday do you wanna hear about?” he asked, following on his husband’s heels. It was good exercise, he had to admit, chasing him around all day. Not too exhaustive or overstimulating. Just enough to keep the blood flowing and the joints moving.

Peasley’s trembling hands knocked over a vase on an extensive table. It clunked harmlessly onto its side. “The one where your mother forced a great bird into the oven,” he requested as he realigned the vase. Luigi snickered. Mundane traditions always sounded so much more exciting when Peasley rephrased them.

“Well!” he started. And just for theatrics’ sake, he clapped his hands together and waited a breath or two before continuing. “When we were in the fifth grade, Mario and I decided we were gonna surprise our mom by making Thanksgiving dinner all by ourselves. Bird and everything.”

He must have babbled on about all of them a thousand times, those small but noisy and vibrant Thanksgivings and Christmases and New Years in a little apartment in Brooklyn. He knew for a fact he’d told this story at least twice. Yet the tension and discomfort melted from Peasley’s face as he recounted the disaster that was two ten-year-olds trying to cook a whole turkey; he grinned and gasped and laughed so hard that he wiped tears from his eyes, as though he were hearing it all again for the first time.

When he wasn’t fiddling with the flowers, Peasley’s hand found Luigi’s and squeezed tightly. His skin was cool to the touch even during the hottest summer days. In the winter, it was almost enough to sap all of Luigi’s body heat. But he gave what he had anyway, and sometimes it was enough to allow Peasley a break from his busybodying. In those moments, he would relax his hold and press their sides together briefly, and then he was on the move once more.

And this was how Luigi spent his first winter in the Beanbean Kingdom: following his husband, entertaining him, and keeping him warm, every single day. Perhaps it sounded dull or even overwhelmingly repetitious. To Luigi, it was heaven. 

He wasn’t sure how much it actually helped, but it saw Peasley through until they could retire to their quarters and take more drastic measures to stay warm, and he took pleasure in that.

That night, those drastic measures involved curling up on the couch with three fluffy blankets, two giant mugs of hot cocoa, and Season 13 of DegrasSoy on DVD. Peasley’s small but well-built frame fit so perfectly in Luigi’s arms. Holding him near as his shivering subsided felt as natural as growing facial hair, as natural as breathing itself.

Four episodes in, Peasley broke the amiable silence in their dark room.

“I don’t know if I’ve thanked you.” His normally boisterous voice softened, a tenderness only Luigi got to hear from him. “For keeping me warm.”

Luigi chuckled at that, pulling him in even closer. Peasley was in his lap now, both having abandoned their empty mugs two episodes earlier to twine their arms around one another. Come to think of it, had he even been watching? His head was turned in the direction of the TV, but he hadn’t seemed as invested as he usually was in trashy daytime television. 

“You thank me every night, mio caro,” Luigi reminded him. Peasley, already a classic romantic, became extra sentimental when he was comfortable and tired. It never got old.

“No, I mean… during the day.” In the light cast from the TV, he watched Peasley close his eyes and smile. “I don’t know how I ever survived a winter without you.”

“Oh, come on. All I do is talk and hold your hand!”

“No, no, it’s so much more than that.” Once more Peasley opened his eyes, and this time he fixed them on Luigi; they were heavy not with sleep, but with love, so much love that Luigi felt a bit dizzy. 

“Your voice alone is a driving force,” he continued. “It reminds me that this winter will come to an end, just like every other winter before it. Before you, it always felt… endless. But you, my dear — you’re sunlight in living flesh. And I would live through a hundred consecutive winters without complaint so long as I could spend each of them with you.”

A lump formed in Luigi’s throat. Oh, the things he could promise this man — he had little to his name outside of these castle walls, but it was all his, always, and always would be.

“On second thought—” Peasley drew away suddenly, pursing his lips in thought, and suddenly that air of amorous devotion popped like a flimsy soap bubble. “No, I would absolutely complain. Constantly and fervently. That’s too much suffering to go through in silence. But!” And then he drew back in, grinning at the startled laughter his sudden shift in demeanor had evoked from Luigi. “I would endure it still, knowing my hero would be there to keep me warm.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Luigi snorted. He wanted to kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

“Darling, do you underestimate me?” Peasley gasped. “I can be so much more dramatic.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, Luigi!” Luigi’s laughter renewed as Peasley sprawled out in his lap, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in a mock-faint. “I’m so terribly cold, Luigi! I beg of you, relieve me of this torture!”

A hiccup escaped Luigi’s throat, and he took a moment to gasp for air before diving in. “Oh, no!” he cried, twisting himself so that they could face one another without falling off of the couch. “Don’t worry, I’ll save you!”

Peasley joined in on his mirth as Luigi scooped him close, as close as they could physically be. “Oh, my hero,” he called out, pulling at all three of their blankets until they were completely enveloped in soft fabric, “my hero!”

Their show continued until it reached the looping main screen once more, but they were too preoccupied to pay it any mind.

[milkywaybottles]

The Way Things Were | Tommy Shelby x Reader

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: I'm so sorry these have been taking so long to come out. I'm gonna be fully honest when I say that sometimes I simply get burnt out, and there are other things in demand first, such as my requests. I am trying my best :')

Much love xx

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Chapter 9: Wounds Cut Deep

You had been the only person to see Ada in a week, and even then, she was hesitant about your visits. She could use excuses to avoid Polly, Polly was directly a part of her family which caused her suffering, but she needed your help managing a newborn child. Her pride was strong, but her desperation was stronger. When your eyes landed on her, it was easy to see how exhausted she truly was. Her hair was scrambled, dark and heavy bags under her eyes, dressed in robes while holding Karl. As soon as you entered the room, your ears were filled with the sound of his screams.

"You've changed his nappy?" you questioned, holding out your arms and offering to take him. Ada shifted, presenting the baby to you.

"And fed him. I don't know what he wants" she admitted tiredly, passing you Karl. You took him ever so gently, hands barely moving at his light weight. Within a split moment, his mouth snapped shut and he watched you with his orb-like eyes. Ada tilted her head in surprise and squeezed her eyes shut, a smile making its way onto her face.

"Maybe he's just lonely" you mused, planting your finger to Karl's nose, knowing neither of them could go on like this any longer.

Her eyes flickered up at you with ferocity, tossing the burping cloths rather aggressively on one of the wicker chairs. She raised her hand and brushed you off quickly. It became clear that these wounds would not heal quickly. "Don't start with me. You choose to associate with the people who put me here"

You thought, wondering if you should reply or simply leave it alone. "Ada, he's your brother. He told me he didn't do it-"

"Oh! And you just believe him?" She snapped, crossing her arms across her chest. You reeled at her tone. "God, he's got you wrapped around his finger. You pretend to know him so well but can you really trust anything he says?". Your mouth was overcome with a bitter flavour, knitting your brows at her claims.

Karl suddenly burst into an ear-piercing cry as the rocking motion of your arms ceased. Your friend scowled, though her weary eyes remain planted on her baby. You shook your head slowly in indescribable disappointment, passing her the baby.

"I'm just going to leave you be. Enjoy the bread and milk"

Within a split moment, you had disappeared out the door with your belongings shoved tightly under your arm. The problem remained as you paced down the street.

What if she had a point?

-

"So?" the begrudging voice quizzed.

You huffed rather amusedly, a cloud of smoke spilling from your lips when bringing the cigarette down to your side. His head perked in curiosity, eyes flickering over your body, examining every inch of it with ferocity. He wasn't one to express his feelings verbally, but you could tell just by the way his body twitched that he was eager for a response.

"She's pissed, Tommy, what else?". Tommy manoeuvred towards you, pressing the arm of his tailored coat to the bar bench. You spied Grace's eyes shift over you both from the corner of your eye, focusing her head on the floor. Your lips cocked a half-smile, taking another puff. You had an irking feeling that woman was like a gossiping hen, clucking around for her next dig.

It didn't take Tommy long to notice your uneasiness to divulge family matters in front of the barmaid. So, he sighed and brought his finger up, curling it in a manner that suggested you come closer. Your cheeks flushed a rosy red as your body edged mindlessly towards him.

Grace's hands scrunched into the worn fabric of her dress.

In an instant, his lips were against your ear, steamy breath raking across your cheek. The smell of aftershave consumed your senses, causing the hairs on your nape to rise. "And what am I supposed to do about that, love, eh?"

You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that.

You pulled back hesitantly, “Well, there are two things you can tell her. You can tell her whatever the truth is, or you could lie”.

Seemingly unsatisfied with your provided solution, he took a swig of whiskey and turned back to the bar. A headache pulsed through your skull, prompting you to bring your hand to your head and pinch your temple for relief. Then, you brought the glass of amber liquid to your parted lips, relishing in the dull burn of the alcohol as it flowed into your throat.

He took another sip of his drink, cigarette hanging from his fingers.

You sighed.

The echo of footsteps bounced off the floor, causing your ears to perk up at the sound as they neared closer. A man was clad in a muddy-coloured suit, ears sticking out from his head. He wore a serious expression, not removing his eyes from Tommy.

His accent was as clear as day, "Mr Shelby?"

There had been an influx of Irishmen in Birmingham as of late, provoking your suspicions. Between the Communists and the IRA, nobody could catch a break.

"Who's asking?"A typical Tommy Shelby response. He didn't spare the man a glance in his direction, taking a drag and exhaling.

"My name is Byrne. I had word from your man in Camden Town you wanted to parley". You observed the pair with a stiff and unreadable expression. Byrne's eyes drifted from Tommy to you, then again in the opposite fashion. You could tell he was making many loose assumptions based on you. Your social status, your appearance, your demeanour, and even your drink were all factors he quickly took into consideration.

Let him make all the assumptions, you thought.

"Then parley it is"

Byrne paused before speaking again, "A few months ago, a man named Ryan came to this place with a view to buying some goods from you. Mr Ryan met with an accident. He was shot"

Tommy only nodded, "I heard"

He had done more than 'hear', you knew that for certain.

"He was a man with a quick mouth. I know that" he sucked his teeth inwards, outwardly gesturing with a flick of his head to the clientele of the Garrison, "I'm wondering if he made any enemies in here"

"None that I know of"

Byrne lent forward and smiled, baring his yellowing teeth, "It's not the kind of place to make enemies"

Tommy laughed exasperatedly, "All are welcome here, Mr Byrne". It was more of a false laugh, the kind someone would express in order to seem polite, even if both parties knew it was merely small talk.

"Including Irish?" he shot back.

"Oh, especially the Irish"

"Ryan told you he was a member of the Irish Republican Army. Was he still welcome?". While clear before, it became crystal that the man only had malicious intentions. It was as if a dark cloud hung over him, threatening to spill rain at any second.

Tommy put down his cigarette, shaking his head only to reaffirm his previous statement, "Like I said, any man... or lady that buys a beer is welcome". His avoidant style made perfect sense to you. There were no flies on Tommy, he knew not to antagonise nor make a scene if not necessary.

"Perhaps you didn't believe him" he continued.

Tommy's eyes darkened, and from under the bench, you watched as his fists curled before turning to the man in annoyance. His jaw was clenched, eyes crinkling as he made a face. "In pubs, sometimes people say things, sometimes it's the whiskey talkin'. It's hard to tell which is which"

Byrne was not fooled by this excuse, "As a teetotal man, I find that amusing. Except when it ends in tragedy"

From his demeanour, you had a feeling you were no longer meant to be listening in on this conversation. Was it going to stop you? Of course not, but you needed to make sure you were subtle. You moved your attention away from the two, lifting your right ear to them nonchalantly. In the process, your heel almost slipped from the bottom of the bar stool, your face paling.

Luckily, there was no reaction from the two.

"Would you like some water and cordial, Mr Byrne?". You remained impressed at Tommy's cool composure, eyebrow arching in inquiry.

"You see Mr Shelby, Ryan, for all his quick mouth, was indeed connected. Very well connected to our brotherhood. By membership and blood... He was my cousin. I am from South Armagh. I'm a man of influence there. Cordial and water would be grand, Mr Shelby"

"Grace, bring some cordial and water to the snug"

"Yes, Mr Shelby"

Grace lept from the seat she had taken, and in an instant, she was making her pretty little way over to the family snug with a jar and glasses wedged in her hands. The two retreated into the comfort of the snug, harshly ending your interference. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, your finger running against the rim of your glass.

Tommy Shelby knew you too well.

He would have known exactly what you were doing and you were sure to receive a lecture about it after.

The clock taunted you, each minute ticking by. You drummed your fingers against the bench, waiting for any sign of movement within the snug. It seemed to go on for hours, a thickness hanging in the air. The Garrison had quietened, not too the full extent but enough for the regulars to understand that something was going on. Not a single customer had come or gone.

The lazy afternoon was stretching on.

You yawned, finally feeling the waves of dizziness come over you. The coat that was settled on your shoulders provided just enough warmth to possibly send you into hibernation. Grace shot you a thin lipped smile and scrubbed down the bar with a rag.

Eventually, your daze was broken by the slamming of a door. Byrne emerged but gave you no time to spectate before vacating the building. Your head snapped towards the snug door with urgency. As your gaze met Tommy’s, you couldn’t help but throw him a grin,

“What? I like to know what goes on around here”

His look was the same as a father would give their misbehaving child, but it quickly softened as he pushed his whiskey glass forward on the bench. Grace skipped over and plucked it before it had a chance to collect dust.

“You always have, love. The army should consider recruiting you as a spy next time”

This statement was followed by the unsettled clanging of glasses. Your head shot to Grace who suddenly looked rattled, eyes wide as saucers for a moment before she composed herself. Tommy didn’t seem to give her much notice.

Your eyes narrowed as she refused to make eye contact, leaning your head to the palm of your hand in thought.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[h4zardousch3micals]

Performance of a lifetime • 5

First • Previous • Next

You know what

I'm tired and that makes me wanna be nice

Tee hee :3

———

"You need to sort out your attitude." Fennec's words replayed over and over in Glaishur's head long after the Sox had left, "We're so close to the final performance, you only have a day left, and you're still not concentrating? Audrey would not be impressed."

Though it had been nothing more than a quiet whisper - Fennec's usual speaking volume - it still felt like a knife being pushed directly into the Cold Monster's heart. He was trying his best! Concentrating was just so difficult sometimes, why couldn't Fennec see that? Is focusing really that easy for everyone else? Maybe there's something wrong with him...

He lay on his back - staring at the red-yellow striped ceiling - for what felt like hours, mulling it over. Not even watching Galvana and Vhamp play some adorable game of pretend nearby could fully pry him away from his dejected thoughts, but it was a welcome distraction nonetheless.

"You good there, Glaish'?" A voice came from what appeared to be some kind of fort made of a blanket draped over some chairs, "You haven't moved for quite a while."

Glaishur flinched, but quickly calmed down when he realised who was speaking to him, "Oh, hey, 'Vigg. Yeah, I'm fine. What are you doing in— there?"

Loodvigg stuck their head out of the shadows and shrugged, "Honestly, I have no idea. Those two wanted me to be here for some game they're playing, and they get upset every time I try to leave."

"Oh. Pffft, kids, eh?" Glaishur joked, despite the fact that they were basically kids themselves.

"You can say that again."

Meanwhile, something in the two youngests' game seemed to change pace, and suddenly they were approaching the blanket fort as though they were expeditioners about to enter a dangerous cave. Vhamp took on the role of the more bold of the two - inching forward courageously - while Galvana trailed behind, holding up a (somewhat poorly made) cardboard star badge.

"Oh, I see where this is going..." Loodvigg chuckled, "Sherif Galvie and her trusty steed Vhamp were out wandering the desert when they encountered - A RUNAWAY TRAIN!"

He growled dramatically and flung himself forward; a blanket got caught on his skull and pushed his hair back into an awkward shape. Vhamp and Galvana squealed and bounced about like a pair of excited puppies. Loodvigg playfully roared and pretended to swipe at them - until the pair ganged up on him and bowled him to the ground.

Glaishur couldn't help but smile. Even if he still had a lot on his mind, seeing the normally bad-tempered Loodvigg stumble about with a stupid expression on his face was undeniably heartwarming.

"D'aww," Leyera commented as she wriggled past, a cardboard box gripped tightly in her tentacles.

Immediately, Loodvigg bolted upright and gently lowered the two kids to the ground. He folded his arms and huffed, trying and failing to seem disinterested, "Howdy, Leyera. I mean— Howdy, runaway train! Uh, I mean, Um, uh- nevermind."

Glaishur also sat up and glanced at her with a puzzled expression, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing much, just coming through with some stuff." They muttered, disinterested. They were always a little dull, but now they seemed more exhausted than ever: a few bags had formed under their eye.

Loodvigg guessed, "Fennec dumping random tasks onto you again?"

"Bingo, kiddo." She nodded, curling a few of her limbs into her equivalent of finger guns.

"Wow," Glaishur exclaimed, "He must be really unhappy with you to be this passive agressive."

"He sure is. And to be honest, I kinda deserve it."

"Why don't you just tell him to knock it off?" Loodvigg asked, "If Scaratar can do it, you can too."

"Loodvigg! I just had this conversation with Attmoz the other day!" Glaishur hissed, appalled.

"What? I'm right, right?!" He protested. Galvana tugged on his arm, asking to join in the game of pretend again, but he gently nudged her away, "Not now, Galvie. Go back to playing with Vhamp, I'll be back in a little bit."

"Ugh, look, kiddo." Leyera just sighed, "I've sure as hell thought about it. But the consequences aren't worth it. It's different when one of you kids does it."

"Huh? But, that doesn't make any sense!" Glaishur uttered. It really didn't: Leyera's been here so much longer than them, and their psychic magic is much more useful to putting on a good show than their little elemental tricks! Why would they deserve such special treatment?

"It's because you're g—" Leyera slammed one of their forelimbs across where their mouth would be, "Nevermind. Just don't question it."

Before either of them could protest, they turned and began to wriggle away; a few angry words - too quiet to hear yet clearly bitter - escaping them. However, before they left the room, there came a sound. The quick, methodical thundering of a little pawsteps that rapidly got louder and louder until...

"HI, LEYERA!" A blue spider-like monster leapt forward, crashing into the spaghetti monster with a suprising amount of force.

"CRUV'LAAPHT'S EYES!" Leyera cried. She flopped to the ground with a mix of a 'thud' and a 'squelch'. The box she was carrying ended up flung to the side, it's contents (which turned out to be bunting, posters and a bundle of multicolored streamers) spilling out onto the floor, "Copper? What the hell?!"

"OOPS! SORRY!" They scuttled backwards.

"It's alright." She slowly pulled herself upright, adjusted her crooked collar and whispered 'no need to shout' under her breath', "What do you want, anyway? You only do that when you have something to show me."

"YES! EXACTLY THAT! I JUST HAD THE COOLEST IDEA EVER—OH, HEY, GUYS!" They cried, trailing off as they noticed the presence of other monsters. They waved at Loodvigg and Glaishur, who just stared on awkwardly.

"And what would that be? Can it wait?" Leyera asked, suspicious.

"NO - I NEED TO TELL YOU NOW! WELL, UM UM UM UM..." Copper hopped excitedly from foot to foot, trying to get their racing thoughts together, "I CAN'T EXPLAIN IT ALONE. I NEED A HAND!"

"From who?"

"Uh—" They took a deep breath and finally spoke in an inside voice. "Loodvigg, Glaishur, have either of you two seen Furnoss anywhere?"

They looked at eachother, and Loodvigg hesitantly muttered, "I think I saw him over by the obstacle course a little while ago?"

Glaishur nodded, confirming this.

"GREAT!" Copper scampered away again, leaving the other three monsters to just stand there in stunned silence. After about thirty seconds of uncomfortable nothingness, they finally returned. Furnoss shuffled awkwardly behind them, practically being dragged by the small magical monster.

"Uh, what did you need me for?" He asked, cringing at the way their three eyes glittered and bulged as they looked up at him. He glanced over at Loodvigg and Glaishur and mouthed a 'hello', but made no sound.

"I need a flame." They declared.

"Copper..." Leyera narrowed her eye, "You better not be doing something dumb."

"I'm not, I swear!"

Furnoss looked at the ground, his expression nervous, "I don't know, I'm still not good at controlling my powers."

"Please! Please! Please!" Copper made their eyes big and round, trying (and failing) to seem convincing.

Furnoss seemed to almost shrink beneath their gaze, "Uh, okay?"

"Great!" Their legs wiggled excitedly as they reached into a nearby crate and held out a red firework, "Now, you just need to light up this part and—"

"Are they seriously—" Glaishur began.

"They wouldn't—" Loodvigg added.

But before either of them could fully react, Leyera zipped forward and snatched up the potential hazard, "Copper! Oh, by the titans, Copper, what were you thinking? You can't light fireworks indoors!"

"..." They blinked, "Oh. Oops."

"Yeah, oops. I swear to the Colossals, it's like I have to take care of yet another annoying kid whenever you're around." She growled. With a flick of her tentacles, it floated up into the air an onto a shelf out of the Bulbo's reach.

Now out of the spotlight, Furnoss stepped back and slunk behind Loodvigg, as though trying to hide from the arguing.

"Are you okay?" The shadow monster asked.

"I think so..." He mumbled quietly. Unnerved, he curled in on himself; his arms wrapped around his body to hide the soft amber glow of the flames within.

"Hey! I'm sorry!" They grumbled, "It wasn't like that back home, I could get as close to fireworks as I wanted and it never hurt anybody!"

Leyera explained, "That's because Light Island fireworks are made of pure light instead of explosives, which is too expensive to use here."

They cringed again, "I know! You don't need to tell me! I know everything about fireworks! I just— Sometimes I forget in the moment. I'm sorry."

"Just don't do it again. And also stop bugging me so much, I've got stuff I need to be doing."

*I thought you liked it when I showed you cool stuff?"

"I do, but not when I'm so busy. I'm already on Fennec's bad side, and I don't wanna make things any worse." She picked up the box with her telekinesis and put the contents back into place, "Talk to me when we pack up and the island moves again, then I'll listen."

As Leyera slithered away, Copper slumped over and stared at the ground in shame, "Okay..."

Silence took over once again. Glaishur watched the blue spider monster sink dejectedly against the floor, and he couldn't help but empathise. They just wanted someone to listen to them - he sure knew what that felt like.

"Um, I'll listen to you talk about fireworks, if you want." He offered; extending a hand to help them up.

Loodvigg agreed, "Uh, yeah, me too."

Galvana and Vhamp momentarily stopped their little game to listen.

"Fff-irework!" Galvana tested out the word; she tried to wrap her head around the new combination of syllables.

Furnoss said nothing.

"Really?" Their eyes sprung forward and went huge - like a cat being offered a treat.Glaishur offered them a small smile, "Sure."

Copper slowly rose to their feet, their entire body shaking and making a few Güiro noises as they anxiously rubbed their limbs together, "Oh. My. Phosphora! This is amazing, I can't believe it I— Okay, Copper. Calm down, deep breaths—"

"So, uh." They looked around, fidgety and perplexed, "Where should I start?"

Everyone thought for a moment, then Loodvigg pointed to the firework on the shelf and suggested, "How about you explain how those things work?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" They squeaked, "Okay, so. Inside the shell, there's these things called stars. Which is silly, because they're not stars, but that's besides the point. Anyway, these are made of colourful chemicals and stuff to make it pretty. And, and then..."

Their long infodump gave Furnoss just enough time to slink away and think about what had happened.