#her smoking isn’t much of a habit now as it was before

[geoheir]

both brion & tara smoke. while brion’s is more of a habit picked up after the death of his sister, tara’s is a habit she picked up at 13, particularly as a way of making her seem older, to those she was contracted by

[packsvlog]

❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck — both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

[vibraniumavenger]

Collision

TW/CW: Car accident, injuries.

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Diaz!Reader

You smiled to yourself as you walked beside Christopher, your nephew. You had watched him in the morning while your brother was working, and Carla was attending an appointment. You didn’t mind though, you absolutely adored him, and he enjoyed spending time with you. 

You had an hour to kill before dropping him off to Carla, and heading off to work yourself, so you decided to swing by the station to have lunch with the team. It was quiet when you arrived, indicating the team were on a call. You took it upon yourself to make lunch for everybody, knowing it would be a relief to them when they got back. Chris was sat at the table on his tablet, in a world of his own, allowing you to focus on the food. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as the sound of the shutters opening filled the station followed by heavy boots thudding against the floor as each firefighter jumped out of the truck. The footsteps got closer, the faint smell of smoke mixed with a familiar aftershave filled your nostrils and you instinctively lean back into the body that is now behind you as arms snake around your waist. “Isn’t this a nice surprise?” 

You turn towards the voice, and smile, “Apparently, I can’t seem to stay away.” You lean up to kiss Buck, causing Chris to pull a disgusted face. This seemed to amuse Buck, and he kissed you again. Eddie appeared in the kitchen, and made his way over to his son, visibly happy to see him. “Come on guys, get a room.” You rolled your eyes playfully at your brothers comment, and pulled away from Buck. 

You dished up the food for the team and took a seat, eager to hear about the call they had just been on. You listened intently as you ate, your complete focus on Buck as he spoke passionately about the call. Your heart warmed as you watched his face light up, he loved how much you genuinely enjoyed hearing about the calls, and how his day had gone. Chimney was the next to speak up, “It was a good call, except the part where Buck was playing hero and nearly got himself killed.” Bucks eyes widened and he turned to look at Chimney, giving him a look that immediately stopped him talking. Chimney, trying to help, began speaking again, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t any more dangerous than a simple call, the risk is always there. Besides, it was probably one of the safer times Buck tried to save the day, you should’ve seen him on the call last week.” 

“Chim, stop talking.” Buck, who was now visibly on the spot, turned to face you. He studied your face, working out how to approach this. He opened his mouth to reassure you, but you beat him to it, “I thought we spoke about this…” Buck knew you understood that no day was guaranteed, and that saving people on calls was something he would always try to do, even if it put him at risk. He also knew that he had a habit of jumping the gun and putting himself in dangerous situations without thinking it through. “I’m sorry…” 

You checked your watch, and stood up. “I just wish you’d be more careful, Buck.” Chris stood up and hugged Eddie goodbye, and you did the same. “Later bro.” You said goodbye to the team and walked back to the car with Chris by your side. The breeze hit you, and you took a deep breath. Maybe you were overreacting, maybe not but you just needed a moment. You helped Chris into the car and got in yourself, turning on the radio. The short ride to Carlas mostly consisted of Chris laughing as you sang along to the music, and the occasional conversation when Chris wasn’t overly engrossed in his phone. Carla was there to greet you when you pulled up on her drive, Chris was extremely excited and practically jumped out of the car to hug her. Carla gave you a hug, “Y/N, it’s so good to see you!” You smiled and hugged back, “It’s been a while, huh? Life has been hectic.” Carla laughs at this, “You’re telling me, your brother told me all about you and Buck. Moving in together? That’s a big step!” 

“We were practically living together anyway, and if I’m being honest, Eddie is probably just relieved to have his couch back. I was starting to get on his nerves.” You explained to Carla, and she chuckled. “Well, I wish you all the best. I’m gonna get Chris inside, and I’ll let you run off to work. It was lovely seeing you.” You hug Chris goodbye and bid farewell to Carla before getting into your car and beginning your journey to your place of work. In front of you, the amber light turned to red and you stopped. You could see that traffic was beginning to build up on the other side of the junction, and you didn’t want to be late. You sighed, and made the decision to take an alternate route, so when the light turned green, you indicated and pulled out to begin taking your turning. You let out a sudden gasp before you could even properly register the car coming towards you. All you could do was attempt to brace for the impact, and so you did. 

A loud crunching sound surrounded you, followed by the feeling of being thrown as your car was barrelled into. You closed your eyes tightly, scared of what was next. You didn’t have the courage to open them again until the car steadied. The first thing you could see was the airbag in front of you, despite not feeling it deploy moments before. You could smell the burning of the tyres, outside of the car, you could hear the panicked voices of bystanders, but all you could focus on was the blood that was now spread across your arms, unsure of where it was actually coming from. You weren’t in pain, at least you couldn’t feel any in that moment. Is that what shock feels like? You couldn’t think, but your eyes got heavy and you fought your hardest not to succumb to the darkness. 

Back at the station, the call was only just coming in. The alarm blared throughout the station, alerting the team to the call. They were quick to jump into action, grabbing their gear and piling themselves into their assigned trucks. Eddie and Buck sat beside each other, speaking casually between themselves about what had happened earlier. “Just give her some time, she’ll come around. For her, two of the people she loves most are at risk everyday, you’ve gotta imagine it can’t be easy. It’s a risky job as it is, and when you put yourself into riskier situations without needing to, it decreases the chance of making it home at the end. She’s scared. Just talk to her.” Eddie attempted to reassure Buck, who was feeling terrible. He couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind, the face that showed disappointment in his actions. Before Buck could respond, the truck halted and the team jumped out, ready to give help where needed. Buck stopped in his tracks as an all too familiar car was crushed before him. He tried not to panic, hoping that his suspicions were wrong. His eyes flicked to the number plate and his heart stopped. His feet were moving before his mind could catch up. He shouted your name, drawing Eddies attention. It took Eddie a few seconds to process what was happening. You had not long left the station, it couldn’t possibly be you. Right?

Buck arrived to your car first, nausea washed over him as he caught sight of your injured body. “Y/N? Hey, it’s me. I’m here.” You weren’t completely aware of what was happening, your eyes opened with a struggle. Your movements were weak as you turned your head to look at him. “Buck?” You spoke quietly, not completely aware of the situation at hand. “Don’t move, try and keep still.” He tried to remain as calm as he could, he didn’t want to scare you any more, he was terrified himself. Eddie ran right over to the car, his heart racing as he feared what he would find. His first instinct was to check the back seat, relief finally washing over him as he saw no sign of Christopher. Still, he needed to make sure, “Y/N, was Chris in the car?” 

You shook your head, “Carlas.” Eddie felt a weight off his shoulders, knowing his son was safe. The weight soon came back when he saw the condition you were in. Your eyes rolled back, and you fell into unconsciousness. Bobby was running the scene, assigning Hen and Chim to medically assist you, and he grabbed the gear to support Buck and Eddie in freeing you from the car. Buck didn’t want to let go of your hand, but he knew he had to in order to get you out sooner. The team worked tirelessly, ensuring to be as careful as possible. Bobby handed the halligan to Buck, “Buck, you focus on getting the doors open. Diaz, grab the saw and be on standby.” 

Buck groaned as he tried to pry the doors open, with no results, “Roofs too dented Cap, I can’t get it open.” Bobby nodded, and turned to Eddie, “Saws it is. Get in there Diaz, Buck, you too.” The roof was off in no time, Hen and Chim jumped straight in and equipped you with a neck brace, and got the back board in place to move you. Hen checked your vitals quickly, trying to make sure you were steady enough to be moved. “I’ve got a faint pulse, we gotta move.” They moved you out of you car quickly, and transferred you to the ambulance. “Trauma to the abdomen, possible internal bleeding. I’ll let the hospital know we’re en route.” Buck jumps into the back of the ambulance with Chimney, and instantly takes your hand in his. Hen places herself into the drivers seat, putting the ambulance into 911 mode and begins the journey as fast as she can to the nearest hospital. 

Buck hated seeing you like this. He was filled with anxiety, the nausea constantly there as he studied your visible injuries. His heart sank with every second that went by, the more he thought about you laying there almost lifeless, expecting you to flatline any second now. “I’m sorry baby, we can’t leave things like this. I need you to get through this so I can apologise to you. I know I’m not the easiest person to love, and I also know that I’m the biggest pain in the ass, but I love you, and I need you. Please.” Buck sobbed as he held your hand tighter. Time seemed to be going extremely slow for Buck, yet moments later Hen was pulling up at the hospital. You were rushed in, Hen spewed all your information to the nurses as you were wheeled in and handed over. Buck, Hen and Chimney stood there as you were wheeled out of sight. One of the nurses stopped Buck from running after you, and he sat defeated in the waiting room. The rest of the team arrived soon after, Eddies face was similar to Bucks. Eddie spoke first, “Any update?” The lack of response from Buck had him on edge, fearing the worst. Luckily, Chimney filled the silence. “There’s no update, but no news it almost always good news.” 

Eddie placed his hand on Bucks shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before sitting down next to him. “How’re you holding up?” Buck didn’t look up, instead he kept his head in his hands. He couldn’t respond, he couldn’t trust his voice not to give out. His leg bounced anxiously, and despite not talking, his feelings were painfully obvious. Eddie could empathise, he knew exactly what was going through Bucks mind. It was happening to him too, but he concealed it as much as he could, knowing Buck needed him. “You know, each time we’re sat in these chairs, it never gets easier. You don’t have to talk, I get it. I think you should know that I’m right here for you, I understand. Y/N is going to be okay, that I have no doubt about. She’s my sister, and us Diaz’s, we don’t back down. We fight.” Eddie continues talking, and he’s not sure whether he’s trying to convince Buck or himself. 

A few hours go by, and the team are waiting as patiently as they can for an update. Maddie had arrived some time ago, and was sat with Buck. She was not only there to support her brother, but also her brothers girlfriend, who Maddie had claimed as her best friend shortly after meeting her. Bobby hands a coffee to Buck and Eddie, who hadn’t moved from their seats since arriving. This changed moments later as a nurse approached, making them stand. Buck felt as if his legs were going to give way any second. The nurse cleared her throat, “She’s stable. She’s incredibly lucky to have made it out with the injuries she did, it could’ve been a lot worse. She’s awake, if you’d like to go see her.” 

Buck didn’t stick around to hear whatever else the nurse had to say, he darted through the corridor until he got to your room. He stopped to take a deep breath, and stepped inside. He was scared to look at you, all he could picture was you covered in blood still. His head shot up as he heard a voice, your voice to be exact, “Buck?” 

He was by your bedside in a blink of an eye, taking your hand in his. His eyes wandered over your body, taking in each of your injuries. His heart broke a little more with each one. He finally looked you in the eyes, and that’s when it hit him. His eyes filled up with tears, “Y/N…”

“Hey, don’t cry. I’m fine, see. I’m right here.” You gave his hand a squeeze, trying to give him the reassurance he needed. Buck took a seat close to your bed, your hand in his and against his lips. You move your hand up to his cheek and wipe his tears, Buck practically melted into your touch. “I really thought I had lost you.” 

“I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere. I need to apologise for my reaction earlier, that could’ve been our last conversation earlier and left without saying goodbye, or telling you how much I love you.” 

Buck shook his head, “You have nothing to apologise for, I’m the one that owes you an apology. I’m sorry that I’m not more careful when I’m out on a call, I shouldn’t be that reckless. I’m sorry that I can’t promise to walk through that door every night, safe and unscathed. I can appreciate how you feel now, and I promise I’ll try my hardest to be more careful. I love you, and I don’t want you ever feeling anything close to what I’ve felt today.” You wince as you sit up, making Buck panic. You push through the pain, and pull Buck to you. “Come here.” He stands from his chair and leans down to kiss you quickly. He carefully moves your hair from your face, ensuring he doesn’t touch any of your cuts or bruises. 

“I love you too, and even though I’m petrified that you won’t make it home one day, I trust that you’ll try everything in your power to make sure you do. I’m proud of you, Evan.” As you spoke, Buck smiled to himself. A sense of relief washed over him. Before he could respond, you continued. “So… does this mean I can finally get a new car now?” 

Buck chuckled, “You’re a pain in the ass, Diaz.” 

“Takes one to know one, Buck.”

A/N: So, I think I rewrote this like 10 times. Its been a while since I've done any writing, so please bare with me while I figure out my writing style again. Any criticism is welcome, I appreciate the feedback.

[luvgam3]

Girlfriend Shoko head-canons cause I said so

Cw: afab reader, mdni (18+ under cut), no proof read.

- Shoko is a busy woman, sleep deprived, dehydrated, everything under the sun— but when she met you every little bad thing in her life vanished. You forced her to drink water, forced her to eat regular meals, forced her to change her sleeping habits. Instead of coming home and chain smoking on her couch she finds herself tucked between your legs, her head pressed against your chest as she naps, lulled to sleep by the sound of your heartbeat and soft breaths.

- Shoko always thought she was too busy for relationship—let alone date nights. Hookups were so much quicker and simpler than settling down and making plans week after week day after day. But now it’s all she ever really thinks about. She’ll pass by a new bakery on her way to work, taking quick glances through the large windows, looking at the tables and the seating an noting how busy they always look. Or she’ll spend her breaks looking up five star restaurants to take you to for your anniversary (which isn’t even close! She just can’t seem to stop thinking about how lucky she is and how beautiful you’ll look sitting across from her in a dress she definitely hasn’t bought for you already…)

- Craft + Wine dates. Was it your idea or was it hers? (It was hers) Whenever Shoko gets a weekend off she always gets so excited knowing you’re already at home laying out all of the materials on the kitchen table, two wine glasses set to the side and a small ceramic ashtray waiting patiently for her arrival home. One time you’ll make paintings of one another, the next time you’re beading bracelets made with each others favorite color. Some days you’ll simply lay out a puzzle and pull your chair a little closer to hers. Shoko hunched forward, glass in hand and a cigarette dangling between her lips as he searches through the scattered pile.

- TOUCH HER. Shoko is always— and I mean always— freezing. In the mornings you’ll wake up to her face buried in the crook of your neck, her arms wrapped tightly around you, her legs tangled with yours. Or some nights after you’ve turned the light off and rolled over you’ll feel her hands slide up your shirt, her fingers little ice cubes against your hot skin. Good luck pushing her away, she’ll whine the entire time, begging you to hold her and warm her up. She loves laying her head on your chest while you’re both wrapped up in a thick warm blanket— it’s nothing short of perfect.

- Shoko isn’t a lightweight, she can hold her liquor. You however? You can’t. She loves looking down at your rosy face as your eyes flutter closed as you fall asleep sitting up on the couch. She’s quick to grab the makeup wipes and clean your face for you before helping you walk to bed. Your knees would buckle with each step before they’d finally give out, your body meeting with the plush mattress with a soft groan. Shoko carefully helps you shed your uncomfortable clothes, helping you into an old ratty t-shirt. If you were sober (and conscious) you’d see the soft look of love in her eyes and she plays with your hair. Her fingers brushing against your forehead and you mutter in your sleep, and god, she’s never been more in love.

- If she could stay between your legs all day she would. Her breakfast, lunch and dinner is your dripping wet cunt against her tongue. She’s not just good at eating you out— she’s amazing at it. It’s like she’s been studying for this moment her entire life. She ties her hair back, getting down on her knees and prying your legs apart. After a long day she won’t waist any time diving in, giving you no warning as she plunges her tongue into your tight hole, her nose pressed up against your clit as she devours you. When you cum (or when she finally feels like stopping) you watch as she sits up, her hair frizzy from your desperate tugging, her chin glistening with your cum and her spit.

- The strap master or the strap receiver… which will she be? Shoko is a heavy switch, one day she’ll be on all fours as you drive into her from behind, the next she’ll have your legs thrown over her shoulders as she listens to you babble something that sounds like her name.

- Shoko isn’t as big of a freak as you’d think. Sex with her can very from absolutely brutal to the sweetest tenderest experience of your life. Sometimes she’ll wrap her hand around your throat as you lay under her with your nails biting into her shoulders. Wet rosy patches litter your skin as you gasp, eyes fluttering into the back of your head as that blissful airy feeling seeps in, drowning out the loud slap of her strap entering you again and again as she fucks you into the mattress.

- when you sent her a nude for the first time she was absolutely floored. All she could think about for the rest of the day was you and what you must’ve done after taking that photo. Were you nestled in her bed?— Your face buried in the shirt she mindlessly tossed onto the mattress that morning… or maybe you were grinding against her favorite pillow, the one that smelt like her shampoo and perfume… or maybe—

- You jokingly called her daddy once. You thought it was funny— and maybe she did too the first time. But then you did it again after she kissed you on the cheek while passing by. That had a little more kick to it than it did the first time. Shoko always thought men who liked to be called daddy in bed were odd— but then she asked you begged you to call her daddy as she hovered over you, her fingers deep in your cunt. She pleaded, her pussy grinding against your thigh as you shivered under her. She needed to hear it, just to see how it felt. And it felt wonderful. Call her daddy while she’s eating you out, call her daddy while her cock is burrier deep deep inside of you, call her daddy as she lazily fingers you in bed.

[abswife]

stranger

you find yourself alone at a party and want nothing more than some peace and quiet. but the cute girl with the braid seems to have other ideas.

cw// smut with little plot, top! abby, bottom! reader, drinking, nicotine, fingering, cunnilingus, reader's appearance is not mentioned other than being afab and having hair, abby is a sweet respectful baby

this is my first fic for abby so sorry if it kinda sucks :/

word count: 3k+

__

The accelerated bass made the whole house shake, though you’d never be able to tell with the sea of bodies that flooded every room. People jumped up and down, spinning and shimmying to the rhythm of some generic trap song. You could hardly make out the shape of the living room you were in, what with all the gyrating college students and flashing lights. You’d lost track of your friends long ago. They were likely in the midst of the chaos, dancing to their heart's content, or had already left with someone to spend the rest of the night with. Not that it mattered, this isn’t your first party. Having gotten through almost three full years of school allowed for plenty of time to get used to the ragers your school’s frats would throw. 

Someone suddenly knocked their elbow into your arm, making the liquid in your plastic cup slosh onto the floor and on your shirt. 

“Fuck.” You muttered, not bothering to say anything to the culprit considering you weren’t even sure who had done it. 

Having had enough of being jostled by the people nearest you, you made your way through the crowd toward the back door. You successfully managed to reach it, and downed what was left of your drink as you swung the door open. The cool air rushed over your face, and immediately you felt much less overwhelmed. You stepped out on the small patio, closing the door behind you. There were a few other people out here, mostly couples that wanted somewhere calmer to talk or makeout. Though, it was kind of hard to see with the only light coming from the small porchlight and the colorful flashes through the windows. Setting your now empty cup on a small table near the door, you walked down a few steps before plopping down onto the edge of the wood. You pulled your vape out of your pocket, taking a big hit. You weren’t a big smoker, but alcohol always seemed to worsen the habit. The air was colder than you initially thought, and you tugged your denim jacket closer to you. 

“It’s pretty cold out here, huh?” A voice behind you spoke up. You turned, and your eyes fell upon a tall, blonde woman. Her hazel eyes were slightly watery, likely from the wind that blew toward her face. She had on a bulky jacket, but you could tell she had a muscular frame under it nonetheless.

You blinked, unsure what to say. “Yeah, but it is February,” You said, cringing slightly at yourself. You turned back around, hoping that would be the end of that awkward interaction. However, she sat down on the step next to you, resting her elbows on her knees. The stairs weren’t very big, and no one else would be able to get through with both of you sitting there, but you didn’t really care. You looked over at her, raising your eyebrows. She gave you a soft smile, then her gaze drifted down to your vape.

“Can I get a hit?” She asked, gesturing toward it. You thought for a moment, then shrugged and handed it to her. She raised it up in a way that said ‘cheers’ and then took a hit from it, handing it back right after. You watched her as you grabbed it back from her grasp. She looked out into the yard as she held the vapor in her lungs for a few moments before blowing it out through her nose, the smoke curling through the air around her face. She glanced back over at you, and you blushed and looked down, realizing you were caught staring at her. When you met her eyes again she had a small smirk painting her face. Immediately, you copied her actions before, facing the grass and taking a hit. As you exhaled, you slipped it back into your breast pocket. 

“What’s your name?” The woman asked, causing you to face her again. You told her your name, then asked the same question. “I’m Abby.” She said, flashing her pearly teeth. You just noticed that she had freckles sprinkled over her nose. 

“Are you a freshman? How come I’ve never seen you before?” You asked, even though you could tell you guys were the same age. She chuckled and shook her head, rubbing her hands together. 

“No, no. I’m a junior. I just don’t tend to come to stuff like this. I’m pre-med so I don’t usually have the time.” She explained, brushing away stray hairs that had fallen from her braid. You hummed in acknowledgement. You didn’t know many other pre-med majors, so it took you by surprise to meet one at a party. Though, it made sense, that seemed like the sort of study that wouldn’t have much free time. 

“So, do you approach strangers like this in the cafeteria or…?” You questioned, slightly teasing her. Her eyes widened and for a moment you worried you’d offended her, but then she laughed. Her head hung down, forehead almost hitting her thumbs where they clasped atop her knees. When she looked back up at you, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Just the pretty ones.” She said, and the ease with which the flirtatious words came from her lips embarrassed you. You bit your lip and looked away, the heat from your cheeks letting you know you were sporting a light blush. You hadn’t expected this very attractive stranger to hit on you, but you certainly weren’t complaining. Another chuckle sounded through the air, and you knew she was amused at your reaction.

You weighed your options. 1. You could feign disgust, and get up. This is the easiest route, considering it meant you could leave this party and go back to your apartment, spending the rest of your night in peace. 2. You could lightly turn her down, and then disappear back into the crowd of people, drinking to your heart's desire. 3. You could flirt back. Who knew what would happen if you did that? Number three was tempting, though you were afraid of making a fool of yourself.

 ‘Fuck it’, you thought. You turned back to her and smiled lightly.

–

Her keys jingled in her unsteady grip as she desperately tried to put the right one in the lock. Admittedly, you weren’t of much help, considering you wouldn’t stop kissing her for even a second. Even when she wrenched her lips away to actually look at what she was doing, you moved your kisses down her jaw and across her throat. She swore, then finally managed to unlock the door, swinging it open and pushing you inside. You giggled at her urgency, and gripped her jacket to pull her in with you. She kicked the door shut behind her as she reattached herself to your lips. You shoved each other’s jackets off, and she led you to her bedroom. Your back briefly met the door before she opened it and continued to walk you backwards towards her bed. 

The back of your knees hit the mattress making you fall backwards onto your butt. She rucked her shirt up and off, throwing it into the corner. You took the chance to admire her. You had been right about her being muscular. She had soft abs and big arms, and her sports bra covered her broad chest. You bit your lip and reached up to the nape of her neck, pulling her back down toward you. She willingly let you, and put one of her knees on the bed beside your thigh. She practically lifted you to move you further back on the bed, then properly straddled your hips. You slipped your hand into her hair as best as you could with it still neatly braided, and scratched her scalp as you kissed her. She groaned at the feeling and gripped your waist, thumbs slipping under your shirt. Your other hand found its way to her waist, and you ran your fingers over the muscles of her stomach. She pulled back to slip your shirt up slightly, before looking in your eyes.

“Is this okay?” She asked, hands shaking with anticipation where they held the hem. You couldn’t help but smile at her. Instead of replying, you helped her take the clothing item the rest of the way off, and then reached behind your back to undo your bra. She gulped as you pulled the straps down your arms, letting your tits out for her to see. The cold air in her room made your nipples instantly harden, and you grabbed the back of her neck again, attempting to drag her back down to kiss you. She resisted a moment, still wanting to look at your breasts, but gave in and leaned back down to your lips. You arched your back, pushing your chest into hers, and the feeling made you shiver. You panted as she began to kiss your neck, a hand gliding up from your waist to cradle the underside of your breast. Her thumb brushed across the soft skin, not yet touching where you wanted her to. A whine bubbled up in your throat when she sucked at a spot in the junction between your neck and shoulder. 

As she finally began to palm your full breast, you pulled the hair tie from the end of her braid, sliding your fingers through her locks to undo it. Her lips continued to trail down, kissing the skin of your left tit before taking your nipple into her mouth. You sighed and gripped her hair, making her groan again. You took note of how she seemed to like having her hair played with and pulled. She grazed her teeth over your nipple and you swore under your breath. Her responding chuckle sent heat directly to your core, and you suddenly remembered that you both still had pants on. 

“Pants. Off.” You managed to get through heavy breaths. Her lips detached from your breast with a ‘pop’ as she looked up at you with an amused smile. You could see the internal conflict over whether to make a joke about your condition, however she must have decided against it as she sat back on her knees to unbutton your jeans. You lifted your hips to help her shimmy them down your legs, and she tossed them over her shoulder. Her hands met your hips and her fingers ran over the top of your underwear. The pads of her middle and pointer finger lightly pressed over your clit through the fabric, further dampening the material. 

You grabbed a pillow and slid it under your head, gripping the sides of it. Abby continued to barely apply pressure over your underwear as she admired you under her. Her obvious staring embarrassed you slightly, and you raised an arm to cover your eyes. You hear her huff a breath through her nose, and then some shuffling. Becoming curious, you removed your arm from your eyes. She had taken off her bra, her small tits now free, and had started moving down to lay on her stomach. Her hands drifted to the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart lightly. You made eye contact as she kissed from the inside of your left knee down to the junction between your thigh and groin. 

You bit your lip, desperate for her to continue her path. However, she quickly changed direction, lips trailing their way back up. Then she switched to the other side, giving the same treatment. You bucked your hips up, seeking friction. The corner of her lips turned up, clearly entertained by your neediness. She reached a hand up to rub at your clit through the material again, a little firmer this time, while she sucked marks onto your skin. You felt your breathing pick up again, and you grasped at the sheets. The attention she was giving you was nice, but not enough. 

You huffed out, “God- Abby, please.” You were too shy to fully articulate what you wanted and hoped she would just know. 

She lifted her mouth from where she had been sucking at your inner thigh, and gave it an extra lick before asking, “What?”

You knew she was just teasing you, wanting you to actually tell her what you wanted her to do. However, you were nothing if not stubborn. “T-touch me, please.” You breathed out.

She hummed, changing the movement of her thumb to run over your whole slit, occasionally catching your clit. “But, I am touching you.” She said, and pushed your right leg further out, emphasizing her point. You groaned in frustration and clenched your eyes shut, trying to work up the courage to actually do what she wanted.

You opened your eyes and looked back down where she was waiting patiently with a smile that made you want to punch her and kiss her at the same time. “Take them off and touch me.” You pleaded, cheeks burning. Abby hummed again, as though considering what you said. Apparently that had been satisfactory since she hunched over slightly to hook her fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off and flinging them across the room. 

It was her turn to bite her lip as she gazed at your unclothed pussy, wetness spread all over your labia. She spread your legs back out, making ample room for her broad shoulders. She settled back on her stomach, but leaned over to one side in order to reach her hand up. She used two fingers to spread your lips open, putting your full core on display for her. You whined out and palmed your breasts, needing some kind of stimulation. You could feel yourself becoming wetter by the second, the seemingly eternal teasing leaving you desperate and on edge. The pads of her fingers found your clit and she made slow, broad circles over it. Unable to handle the overwhelming sensation, you threw your head back and sighed. It took all over your concentration not to cant your hips up. 

You almost cried when you felt her fingers leave your clit until you realized she was prodding at your entrance. You look down, and her eyes are fixed on your pussy. She slowly pushed a finger in, and the intrusion is not particularly pleasurable. However, she quickly crooks her finger up towards your stomach, and the new angle has you biting back a moan. Her fingers are thick, a fact you had somehow missed until now. She slowly rocked her finger in and out, transfixed on the way you seemed to pull her in deeper. Your hips jumped involuntarily, and she used her other hand to press on your lower stomach, effectively holding you down. 

Finally, she looked back up at you, a smug look overtaking her features. Maintaining eye contact, she leaned her head down and pressed a kiss against your clit before licking a broad strip up your folds. The unexpected feeling made you let out a quiet yelp and your hand shot down to hold the top of her head. She hummed, as though she was appreciating your taste, and then continued her languid ministrations. You couldn’t help but let your moans free now, unable to conceal them because of the overwhelming pleasure. The vibrations from her moans added to the feeling, and you could feel yourself squirming despite her hold on your lower half. 

She detached her mouth from you and asked, “Does that feel good?” Then immediately dove back in. You were sure it was really a courtesy, considering the sounds you were making. Even so, you breathed out an ‘uh-huh’ and combed your fingers through her blonde locks. 

It was almost embarrassing. Your shameless moans and the wet sounds of her finger plunging inside you were the only noise in the room, but you couldn’t find it in you to care in your current state. The only thing you could focus on was the blissful pleasure Abby was giving you. She swirled her tongue in circles around your clit, and then funneled her lips around it to suck it into her mouth. You arched your back and gasped. Sweat started to form on your face and neck, making your hair stick to your skin. 

Just when you thought that it couldn’t feel any better she suddenly added another finger without slowing down. A particularly loud cry slipped from your lips, and you gripped her hair. She moaned unabashedly, licking at you faster. You could feel your orgasm approaching, and tried to shut your legs around her. She used her free hand to grab your thigh and push your leg up towards your chest and out, effectively keeping you open for her. Your hand that wasn’t in her hair fisted the pillow under you, and you turned your head to try to bury your face in it. The pace of her fingers didn’t falter as she lifted her head to say, “Cum for me. C’mon, you can do it. Cum on my fingers.” 

Her words sent you over the edge, and you let out a strangled whimper as your legs trembled. She kept fucking you through it, slowing her pace as you gradually came down. You gasped for air, panting like you just ran a marathon, and released your hold on her head. You could feel her kissing your thighs as she gently removed her fingers. You watched as she brought them up to her mouth, sucking your juices off of them. The pornographic sight made you flush, and you covered your face with your hands. You could hear her moving around, and then she wrapped her hands around your wrists and pulled your palms from your face. She flashed you a beautiful smile, and pecked you on the lips.

“Was that good?” She asked, settling onto her side next to you. You were still trying to catch your breath, and the question made you laugh. “Uh, yeah. I thought that was obvious.” You answered, turning over to face her. She smiled brighter and placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer. You nuzzled into her, your face finding a home in her neck. Your breathing finally settled, and she rubbed your spine up and down. Sleep began to overtake your body, and you fought to stay awake. “You can sleep, it’s okay.” Abby said, pressing her nose into the crown of your head. Her reassurance soothed you, and you allowed yourself to drift off in her arms.

[messedupfan]

Chapter 11

Summary: Reader finally feels comfortable enough to introduce their girlfriend to their faimly.

A/n: There's a LOT going on right now so it might not be my best work but I hope y'all enjoy!

Masterlist | All Chapters | All Stories Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When October came around you surprised yourself by maintaining a healthy and stable relationship with Daisy. There weren’t many arguments and you were able to focus your romantic energy solely on her and you found yourself happy with the decision to be with her. So, you figured that it was finally time to introduce her to Rachel. In order to do that, of course, you had to start by bringing her to Jean and Anna. 

Arranging a dinner wasn’t easy with the busy work schedules and inability to find Rachel a sitter. With school being in session, Kate isn’t available the way she is during the summer since she has a lot to focus on when it comes to her college classes. Leaving it up to you and Jean to scramble to find someone to be with Rachel long enough for the dinner. Until one day when you’re discussing the dilemma with Wanda, she offers to have your daughter over for the night. She made it easy by offering to pick up Rachel from the school when she was picking up the twins. She happened to be getting them on Friday that week because Vision was spending a weekend in New York with one of his classes to observe the architecture in person. After a quick phone call with the school to inform them of this and writing Rachel a note to give to her teacher, it was settled. 

Daisy is taking her classes online and caught up on all of her coursework, and Jean and Anna are both able to be home from work at an appropriate dinner time. As soon as you get home from work that day, you shower and get dressed before picking Daisy up. On the way to Jean’s house, you stop at the liquor store to bring a gift and say that it came from Daisy. As you walk the aisles hand in hand with her, you think about when you first met Wanda. And how even through her disheveled appearance, you were struck by her beauty. 

Your mind is brought back to reality when Daisy sneaks a kiss on your cheek. You smile and your eyes land on the beverage that you came here for. When the familiar cashier is checking you out, he asks if you want the usual pack of cigarettes. You look at Daisy and then look at the cashier and shake your head. “I don’t smoke,” luckily he catches on and apologizes for confusing you for someone else. Claiming that he’s been meaning to get new lenses. You tell him it’s no worry and you walk out with Daisy, confused by the interaction. 

“Babe, I know that you smoke,” Daisy says. “You don’t have to lie about it. I smell it every time we sleep together.” 

You frown and sigh, “I’m sorry, I was supposed to quit years ago. But I haven’t been able to kick the habit just yet.” 

“Well, maybe I can help you with that,” Daisy offers as she stops you in front of the car. She slips her arms between yours and carefully laces her fingers through your fingers without dropping the bag. “The idea of smoking used to be kind of hot but you know what's hotter?” You hum in question as you smile down at her. “Living a long healthy life,” she beams up at you. 

“Oh really? That's what's hot these days?” You ask with a light laugh. 

“Oh yeah, baby,” she leans in and kisses you on the lips. The two of you break away and you nod as you look at her. 

“Okay, I'll do it this time. I'll quit,” you promise. She kisses you one more time before completely separating. 

When the two of you arrive at Jean's house you make sure to coach Daisy all the way from the car to the front door. She listens intently to every tip you give and tries to memorize each of them. She wants this to go well almost as much if not more than you do. 

Wanda is making dinner for the four of them when Rachel walks in and asks to help. “Are you sure you don't want to play with the boys?” She asks as she carefully chops some vegetables. 

“They just want to play video games and my mom Anna says that too much screen time rots the brain. I thought she was wrong but my brain feels rotten right now,” Rachel says as she observes Wanda. 

“Well, I could use some help with the sauce. If you're up to stirring it,” Wanda offers as she thinks of an easy task to give the girl. Rachel happily walks over to the stove to stir the pot but she isn't quite tall enough. “Sorry sweetie,” Wanda apologizes as she steps away from the cutting board to grab one of the stools that the boys use when they help her in the kitchen. “Better?” She asks and once Rachel is standing on the stool she grabs the spoon and then nods to answer Wanda. “Good, now please be careful. The sauce, the pot, and the stove are very hot and I would hate for you to get hurt. Okay?” 

“Yes ma'am,” Rachel says as she keeps her eyes on the sauce. Wanda washes her hands before she resumes chopping the vegetables for the salad. As she does, she prays that nothing bad happens to your little girl. 

“I must admit, the two of you are cute together,” Jean says as she cuts into the salmon on her plate. “Can I ask, why did you go for Y/n? I mean you're so young and they, well, let's be real. They come with a lot of baggage.” 

“Jean,” you say sternly.

“No, it's okay,” Daisy says as she chews her food. She takes a few extra seconds before swallowing in order to find an answer that won't sound like she was just trying to live an old fantasy of hers and ended up wanting more out of it. “I know that I'm young, but as I understand it you weren't much older than me when you found your current wife and married her shortly after.” You clear your throat to hide your amusement as Jean kicks you under the table. “As for all that I'm signing up for with Y/n,” she reaches for your hand and smiles at you as you accept her touch. You smile back. “Well, just because I'm young doesn't mean that I don't come with my own baggage. I have plenty of my own things that others might be put off by. But Y/n doesn't see those things as a reason to not be with me. And I don't see your daughter or the fact that they smoke and can't seem to stop as a reason to not be with them.” Your smile drops at the last part. You know that she was only trying to impress them by showing that she knows you but of all of the examples, you can't believe that she used that one. 

“I fucking knew it!” Jean shouts. “I knew you started again!” 

You close your eyes and shake your head as you let go of Daisy's hand to rub your face. “Jean-”

“No, don't Jean me,” Jean interrupts. “You've been calling me crazy for years! I can't believe it. Even Anna, my own wife, would take your side!” 

“I'm sorry, I know. It's just been a hard habit to kick. I mean, you had a legitimate reason to quit when you got pregnant with Rach. I just, I just, I haven't had a push like that.” You try to defend yourself. 

“Oh no, did I say something I… I'm so sorry, Y/n. I knew I shouldn't have -” 

“No! See, this is good. We can finally get the truth,” Jean says. 

“Honey, please calm down. Why does it upset you so much that Y/n chooses to do this damage to their own body?” Anna asks as she starts to rub her partners back. 

Jean tries her best to take slow breaths. “It upsets me because Y/n is Rachel's Baba. My uncle was a big smoker and it nearly killed my cousin to lose him to lung cancer and I don't want that for my daughter. And no matter what they are to me, ex-partner, co-parent, friend, I do still care what happens to them.” She looks at you and you cast your eyes down to your plate, knowing that loss was hard for Jean as well. She loved her uncle. And you thought he was pretty great too. In fact, he's the one who bought your first pack of cigarettes when you and Jean were fifteen after he realized where his cigarettes were disappearing once he caught the two of you and her cousin in his backyard. 

He didn't really have a philosophy on children's health and his daughter was a product of that and partially, so were you. He didn't really bust you guys. Instead, he walked away grumbling about something under his breath and left the house. He came back a few minutes later with a few packs of cigarettes and handed one out to each of you. “Don't take mine ever again. You want smokes, ask,” he had said in a raspy voice before walking away. “And stay away from my beers. Y'all are too young, it'll rot ya brains.” The way that he could barely talk without gasping for air or barely walk without coughing up a storm should have been enough to scare you away from the nicotine. But instead, you happily opened that pack and from there started a habit you'd rather hide in shame than quit.

“I'm sorry, I know I should have stopped. And I shouldn't have lied to you as much as I have. I just,” you look at her and remember the broken girl at the funeral and sigh. “There's no excuse. I'm going to quit this time. I promise,” you say as you lay your hand on the table to offer to Jean. 

She looks at your hand with a frown and a scowl before putting her hand in yours. “Okay, you better mean it this time.” 

“They do,” Daisy chimes in. “I told them that I'd help them quit.” Jean gives Daisy a tight smile because she doesn't want to like this girl for you, but it's getting harder and harder not to. 

Wanda is smiling at her phone as she receives a flirty message that was actually cute and not completely sleazy. She starts to type a response when she hears Billy wail in the living room. “Mom! Tommy hit me!” 

“Stop being such a girl, you tattle tale!” Tommy shouts next. 

“Boys!” Wanda yells as she hurries down the stairs. “What happened?” Wanda says with her hands on her hips. Both boys start to tell very different stories. “Ah ah, one at a time. Billy, you go first.” 

“I was trying to pick something that we could all watch when Tommy took the remote from me and-”

“That's not true! I asked first! Mom, he's lying!” Tommy interrupts. 

Then the boys start shouting at the same time and Wanda has to raise her voice again to get them to stop. “Time out, both of you. Go stand in separate corners.” Wanda shoos them away. Rachel comes out of the restroom, confused to see the boys standing in corners of the living room. Wanda sighs as she looks at the little girl. In her frustration with the boys, she completely forgot that Rachel was here. She didn't want to embarrass the boys in front of their friend. She has the girl sit on the sofa to pick something on the TV and steps a few feet back.“Boys come here,” she calls them to her and gets them to look up at her. “Please behave and let Rachel pick something. She is our guest and guests get to pick the movie. Okay?” 

“Yes ma'am,” the boys say together with frowns. Billy still has fresh tears on his cheeks and Wanda wipes them away before giving her boy a kiss on the forehead. 

“We'll talk about this later, okay?” He nods and moves to the couch and she pulls Tommy back to her by the collar on his shirt, making him laugh as she gives him a surprise hug. “You be nicer to your brother, please,” she says as she tickles him. Tommy agrees through his laughter. 

The group of you have moved your way to the living room each with a beverage in hand, you opted for water since you still have to drive Daisy home and pick up Rachel after. Jean apologizes for the dramatic moment she had and Daisy waves it off. “Oh don't worry, being concerned for Y/n’s health is anything but dramatic. What I consider a dramatic moment was what happened when we had dinner with my father a few weeks ago.” Daisy laughs at the memory and you cringe at the reminder. “We shared the most innocent Disney channel kind of kiss and my father went on and on about showing respect in his house. I mean, this guy was fifty shades of red every time we held each other's hand or touched shoulders for crying out loud!” Everyone laughs with her. 

“I don't blame him,” Jean takes a drink from her wine. “Ugh, I dread the day I find out what kind of parent I am when Rach starts dating. My fingers are crossed tight every day that she's gay.” 

You laugh and shake your head and admit, “Mine are too. A lesbian to specify.” You and Jean clink your glasses together. “To the traumas of teen pregnancy!” You say it as the toast which makes her laugh. 

“I really admire the two of you for being so close after a divorce,” Daisy says as she observes the two of you. 

“Trust me, it gets old,” Anna jokes, making Jean roll her eyes. “I'm kidding. It is nice to see, especially with Y/n's parents being such nightmares you'd think they’d - oh I've made a faux pas, haven't I?” Anna mouths the word sorry to you and you shake your head in a manner that lets her know that it's fine.

“I guess we haven't gotten to the talk about your family past Kate,” Daisy says awkwardly. 

You shrug, as you make eye contact with Daisy. “I don't like to talk about it much. Anna only knows because Jean was, as you know, my childhood best friend and she was there for me through it all.” You look at your cup and swirl the water and watch the melting ice cubes knock into each other. But yeah, I had a couple of very clear examples of what not to do when it came to the family I would one day build. My parents aren't terrible people, just flawed as everyone is. I'm closer with my mom because after she had Kate she didn't treat me less than her. My dad however, preferred my step siblings over me. He never said it, but I could feel it. The only big thing he ever did for me was pitch in to get this house when Jean and I got married because he knew how hard it is to provide for a family when you're young.” 

Daisy takes a moment to digest the information before scooting closer to you on the couch to wrap her arm around you and lean her head on your shoulder. You kiss the top of her head and Jean smiles softly as she feels better about this pairing. She still doesn't think that Daisy is your forever person. But she's happy that someone is making you happy for now. 

Looking at the time you have to call it a night since it was pretty late and you still had to pick up Rachel from Wanda’s house. As you and Daisy are saying your goodbyes, Jean asks to talk to you alone for a moment and Daisy kisses your cheek as she tells you that she'll wait in the car. “I think she's great and if you're ready, I think you should introduce her to Rachel. I mean, the girl is considering transferring to a lesser college to be closer to you. I think she is really committed to you and even to Rachel.” 

“Thank you,” you scoop Jean into a tight hug. You put her down and she tells you goodnight and tells Anna that she's going to get ready for bed. You are about to bid Anna a goodnight as well when she stops you. 

“Let me start with, I know this isn't my place to tell you this and Daisy is a sweet girl and the two of you make a cute couple. But she isn't for you, Y/n. Your aura's don't compliment each other. There's this energy around you, like you're forcing two pieces of a puzzle that don't fit together. I'm not going to stop you from introducing her to our daughter, but please consider it a bit longer before you do because… Jean is too polite to say this, but what you and Daisy have it isn't meant to be.” She rushes out softly before you're able to get a word in. You aren't ever rude to Anna and her beliefs but you never thought she'd ever say something like this to you. Especially when you're the happiest that you've been in years. 

“You're right, it's not your place. Goodnight,” you reply tersely before walking to the car. You take a few breaths to calm down before you climb into the car. 

“I think that went well,” Daisy says happily and you don't have it in you to repeat what Anna said although you feel like you should. 

“Yeah, it did. Jean agreed to introducing you to Rachel and I don't think we should wait two weeks. I think we should do it tomorrow. What do you think?” You take Daisy's hand in yours and kiss her knuckles. 

Her eyes light up and tears rise to the brims, “Really? I, yes! I'd love to!” You kiss her lips before starting the car and drive to her apartment to drop her off. 

The drive to Wanda’s house has you fuming as you can't believe what Anna said. You were not trying to force two puzzle pieces together. Maybe at the beginning but things have been easier lately. She can't have known that from one meal no matter how spiritually enlightened she is. You cool off by the time you arrive at Wanda's because you know that Rachel will pick up on it and you don't want to snap at her. 

“They all fell asleep,” Wanda whispers as she opens the door before your first could knock on it. “I saw your lights through the window,” she explains to your confused expression and you make a new one to show that you understand. “How'd it go?” She asks as she closes her cardigan around herself. 

“Um, good for the most part. Ended kind of weird, but I'll tell you about it later. I just need to get Rach home,” you whisper as you tiptoe into the house. 

“Of course,” Wanda says as she carefully closes the door. “Um, can you do me a favor first,” she asks as she looks at the boys sleeping in odd positions on the couch. You look at them and let out a small laugh through your nose as you remember being able to sleep like that without having intense pain for several days after. “Can you help me carry them to their room?” She asks with a pleading smile. You nod and she thanks you quietly as she moves to pick up Billy. You gently lift Tommy into your arms and follow Wanda up the stairs. You carefully tuck Tommy into his bed and watch Wanda tuck Billy into his. She is such a great mom. You feel blessed every time you're able to witness moments like these. She doesn't leave the room without giving them each a kiss on the head. 

“Thank you for watching Rachel, I really appreciate it,” you say as the two of you walk downstairs. “I really owe you one.” 

“Please,” Wanda waves her hand in dismissal, “consider us even. Vision never helped me put the boys to bed like that. So thank you.” She gives you a warm hug when the both of you are standing at the bottom of the stairs. You take in the warmth that the embrace spreads through your body before separating. 

“It was my pleasure,” you smile at her. Wanda smiles back at you and looks at you the way that almost gets you in trouble every time. What you don't see is Rachel being awake enough to witness the scene. She smiles as she lays back down and closes her eyes to pretend that she was asleep the whole time. 

The next day, you are running around like a maniac trying to get ready and cook breakfast for Rachel. Daisy is going to come by and introduce herself as your girlfriend. You almost couldn't believe that you're doing this. There was a time when you couldn't see this kind of thing ever happening. You are proud of where you are now. When Rachel wakes up because of all of the ruckus you have been causing you tell her to get some nice clothes on. “Why? Mom’s aren’t going to get mad at you if I’m in my pajamas all day. Besides, we'll probably lounge around in our pajamas after you drop me off.” 

“Please, Rach,” you say as you adjust your attire in the mirror. “I have a uh, special friend coming over and I want you to look nice. I kind of have some big news but I want to tell you when she gets here.” 

Rachel perks up at the mention of a female special friend. She has watched enough romantic comedies over the years that she knows a romantic moment when she sees one. Last night, she definitely saw one. “She?” Rachel questions in hopes for more information from you. 

You laugh and drop your head to smile at the floor for a second then look back at her. “Yes, she is a she. You've even met her before.” This extra bit of information gets her excited. She knew it! You had to have invited Ms. Wanda and the twins over. She was finally getting the big brothers that she always wanted. “Please, go get dressed. She's going to be here any second.” Rachel skips off to her room and you go back to the kitchen to take things off of the stove before they burn. You set the table and once everything is as perfect as you can get it. Daisy is knocking on the door. “Hey you, come on in,” you greet her with an innocent kiss on the lips.

Rachel hears you from her room and quickly finishes strapping on her white dress shoes. She threw on a pretty pink dress with a white headband. When she hears you call for her, she finishes brushing her hair and hops out of the room excitedly. However, her smile drops when she sees the hardly familiar woman. 

Daisy gives you a nervous smile and you do your best to be encouraging but you haven't seen your daughter so disappointed. This was nowhere near the reaction you expected. “Hi Rachel, I have heard a lot about you. I'm Daisy, I'm not sure if you remember this but I used to babysit you.” 

Rachel looks at you with a confused face, “Baba, why did you make me get dressed if you're going to leave me with a babysitter?” 

Daisy's smile drops as she looks at you, feeling a little helpless. “Maybe this was too early, I think we should have stuck to our previous plans.” 

You shake your head and whisper, “No, no, this will be okay.” You look at Rachel with a smile, “I'm not leaving you with Daisy, honey. She is the special friend I wanted to introduce you to.” You hold Daisy's hand to show Rachel that you mean it. Unfortunately, she still doesn’t appear to be too happy about it. “Um, I made breakfast,” you say to fill the silence. Daisy nods as she looks between you and Rachel as her worst fears come true. “Let's eat before it gets cold.” You wave to the set table and guide Daisy over. Rachel is still standing in the same spot until you call her over again. 

She sits down with a pout and when you serve her, she pushes her plate away. “I'm not hungry,” she crosses her arms over her chest. You frown, you were there for her introduction to Anna and she had reacted in a similar fashion but back then she just wanted her parents back together. When it was made clear that wasn't happening, she quickly began to warm up to Anna. Now, however, you haven't the slightest idea why she had such a sudden switch flip. She seemed excited seconds before you answered the door. 

“You know, sometimes my tummy feels funny in the mornings too. But I always find that I feel much better after a good meal like your Baba prepared,” Daisy tries to relate in hopes that it will get the girl to like her at least a little bit. Unfortunately she is only met with a glare.

“My tummy is fine,” Rachel retorts, “I'm just not hungry.” Her stomach growls, contradicting her statement. You make a knowing face and try to lighten her mood. 

“Sounds like your tummy could use the food, sweetie,” you try to push the plate closer to her but she just turns her head away. You sigh and quietly apologize to Daisy. You really thought this would be easier. 

“Your Baba has told me a lot about you, Rach like-” Daisy is cut off by your daughter. 

“Only I can call them Baba! Stop calling them that. And only people I like can use my nickname, I don't like you,” Rachel snaps, taking your patience. 

“Rachel Hope Y/l/n, you apologize right now young lady,” normally when you scold her with the full government name she turns into a puddle of tears and apologies but right now, she isn't. “Apologize or go to your room,” you threaten with a stern tone. 

“No,” she says while making eye contact with you, unafraid. It only upsets you further that you lack authority over her. It's one thing to be happening now, but what happens when she's older and getting into trouble? A montage of her getting in trouble with the law and having no future, flashes before your eyes and you know that you have to correct this behavior soon before she gets out of hand. 

“Room, now!” You point to her room and she stands up without a fight. 

Then as she stomps her way to her room she says the three words you never ever thought you'd ever hear from her. “I hate you!” She dramatically slams her door as your heart drops to your stomach. Both you and Daisy collapse in on yourselves. 

“I'm so sorry, Daze. I had no idea that she'd be this upset,” you apologize as you hold her hand in yours. 

Daisy sighs, “Maybe if she was eased into the idea a little, like we planned? I don't know. I tried not to build expectations but ugh, I really wanted her to like me.” Daisy starts to cry at the end of her sentence and she keeps you away when you try to hug her. “No, you don't need to be comforting me right now. I should go,” you try to tell her to stay as she gets up but she doesn't. “Just take care of her, okay? She needs you more than I do. I'll call you later, okay?” 

You nod and kiss her goodbye before shutting the door. You look at Rachel's door and you're not ready to be patient with her yet. So you dump the breakfast that you spent all morning working on and wash the dishes. The alarm on your phone, reminding you that you have to get Rachel off to her mom's soon goes off. You had set it because you thought the three of you were going to be having so much fun and losing track of time. It hurts you because that's not what happened. 

You knock on Rachel's door, “Rach, we have to get going.” 

“I'm not coming out unless she is gone!” Rachel shouts through the door.

You sigh, “She left an hour ago. Come on, we have to go.” Rachel opens the door and is still glaring at you. “Are you ready to go?” You ask tiredly. She walks past you, bumping you with her school bag, as an answer. The car ride is long. You try to get her to talk but instead of talking she just makes loud noises that irritate you into silence. As you're slowing down to park, Rachel runs out of the car the second she gets to. You try to chase her but her moms open the door before you can and she's running to her room yelling that she hates you as she does and slamming her door there too. 

“What did you do?” Jean asks with wide eyes. 

“I introduced her to Daisy and she turned into this. I don't know what happened,” you reiterate the events to them helplessly and the two women share a look before Jean tries to bring Rachel to you to apologize and chat. But all you hear is mean words from Rachel and eventually, Jean giving up. 

“That is not our angel in there,” Jean says as she returns. “I think maybe you should go. We'll take it from here and maybe we can get somewhere with her.” 

You nod, “Yeah okay. I'm sorry, I didn't think this would happen.” 

Jean places her hand on your shoulder, “None of us could have seen this coming, sweetheart. But it has happened and we, as her parents, need to come up with a suitable punishment. This behavior is not okay and we need to figure out how to let her know that. I know we joke that she's just like me, but we don't need a repeat of that.”

“Are we sure punishment is the way to go here? I think that she is going through emotions that she doesn't know how to experience and maybe that's why she's acting out,” Anna says as she looks between you and Jean. “Let me try to talk to her. Don't go anywhere just yet.” She says to you as she heads to Rachel's room. You hear the door open, some muffled voices, then a loud crash, shouting, and the door shut before Anna returns with a red face. “Whatever she is going through is beyond our capabilities, I think we should start her on therapy again.” 

“What happened?” Jean asks as she puts her hand on her wife's back. 

“She threw her cup of markers at my head. She missed me, but I've never wanted to harm a kid more,” Anna admits. “I'm sorry, that was horrible to say,” she says with guilty eyes. 

You and Jean scoff at the same time, “No, I get it. When she started giving me attitude, I suddenly realized why I got so many spankings as a kid. My goodness, I was an actual nightmare.” This makes the three of you share a laugh. Then you take a calming breath and look at Jean. “We've really been spoiled with a good kid like Rachel, haven't we?” 

Jeans nods and her body deflates as well, “Yeah, we have. I guess it was only a matter of time before we got a blow up like this. She is our kid after all.” 

You agree and hug both her and Anna as you start to say your goodbyes. “I'll see you lovely ladies next weekend.” 

The week spent with Daisy is awkward. She remains upset about Rachel's reaction, especially since you had talked up how much your daughter was going to love her and the idea that you were finally having the love story that she has always wanted for you. Especially when she started to want siblings. Jean and Anna had already explained to her why it was different and a little more difficult for them to give her siblings. But all you could tell her was that you can't give her a sibling unless you fall in love with someone. So she started to try and help you find someone to fall in love with. For a long time, she wanted you to find someone and now that you have, you're confused why she isn't happy. 

One night when Daisy is spending the night, you are cooking in the kitchen and don't realize that Daisy didn't return from the bathroom until you've finished cooking the meal. You turn off the stove and cover the pans before you go looking for her. The apartment isn't big so it's not hard to find her and you get a little upset when you find her standing in Rachel's room holding the digital picture frame that your mom got for her. 

“Hey, I know you're hurt and confused but you cannot be in here,” you state calmly. It was a rule. Rachel's room has to be her safe space. If someone is not on Rachel's list, they are not allowed inside. 

“I know, I know,” Daisy says as she snaps out of her thoughts. “I'm sorry, it's just. I was passing by and her door was open and then I…” she starts to trail as her focus returns to the picture frame. You frown out of curiosity of what she is seeing. “Who is this woman? Why haven't you mentioned her?” She shows you the picture on the screen and it's a picture of you and Wanda smiling at each other. You look at the picture and sigh. It switches to the picture that Vision’s private investigator took and you wonder if Tommy and Billy sent it to Rachel from their dad's phone. You're curious how they even know about it. Was he looking at it often and they caught him? Did they overhear the conversation where he threatened you with it? You don't know. But you're very curious as to why her slide show was pictures of you with Wanda. 

“I have mentioned her, in fact you met her the night you slipped your number in my back pocket,” you say as you shake your head because another picture appears of you and Wanda cooking in her kitchen. “We're just friends. I think this is Rachel's way of messing with us.” You place the frame back where it belongs and sigh. “She watches a lot of those Beverly Dawson's Diaries Tree Hill Pretty Little Glee Gossip shows with my sister Kate. I'm starting to think it's not good for a smart girl like her.” 

Daisy follows you out of the room and you close the door behind you but she still seems upset by the pictures. “I'm not upset about the fact that your daughter chose those pictures for her frame. I'm upset that the two of you look like you're in love.” Daisy says and you stop in your tracks. 

“What?” You laugh, “That's crazy. We're just friends. I'm not in love with her.” 

“It was all over your face in those pictures,” she tries to point out but you can't see it anymore. Wanda knew that you felt a certain way about her and she never confessed feeling the same. So you finally let it go when you decided to introduce Daisy to Rachel. Now everything is a disaster. 

“Babe, I love you,” you state as you hold her hands. “Come on, are you really going to doubt me over a couple of pictures?” You try to get her to look at you but you can tell that she is probably spinning in her head. “She watched Rachel so that we could have dinner with my ex to talk about including you in the family. Why would either of us agree to that if we wanted to be together? I don't mean to be so blunt but honey, we’re not in a time where it's some forbidden love. If we wanted to be together, we could be.” 

“So it would have been easy for you to jump into a relationship with her? And I had to convince you to even try with me?” She looks at you with pain in her eyes and pulls her hands away from you. 

You shake your head, “That isn't fair. I've known you since you were younger. These days that could make me look like some sort of predator. Not to mention I was really good friends with your father. Part of my hesitation was out of respect to that man and I wasn't quite sure what would happen to that relationship once I started dating you. To be honest, it hasn't been good. He hates me now.” 

“He doesn't hate you,” she rolls her eyes, tired of hearing this thought from you. 

“He can't even look at me, Daisy. Did you know that I used to be able to call him up and ask him for advice or even just to talk? Any time of the day and even at night and he would always answer? Now he sends straight to voicemail. Doesn't even read a text.” 

“I am so sorry that I got between you and my precious father! Maybe you two should be together! Oh wait, can't forget about Wanda!” Daisy raises her voice as she moves around the apartment, collecting her things. 

“Daze, come on. I don't mean it like that. I'm happy to be with you, I'm just saying that it's different circumstances. Come on, can we please have dinner and not argue about this?” You try to get her to stay. “We've both had long days, and I won't speak for you but I'm a bit delirious, I hardly ate today. Can we please get some food in us before we both say things we don't mean?” 

Daisy looks you up and down with a tight expression before sighing and allowing her body to deflate. “Yeah, okay, yeah. I could eat,” you relax a little bit as she sets her things down and follows you to the kitchen. You serve the both of you and the two of you eat together in silence. “That was very good, thank you,” she says after clearing her plate. You smile at her as you continue to eat. Then she starts laughing, “I'm sorry, I don't know why I got so insecure. You make me feel nothing but secure in our relationship.”

You reach your hand out to hold hers, “It's okay.”

“No, it's not. I've been driving myself crazy since meeting Rachel as your girlfriend. I mean, we used to have so much fun when I was just her babysitter. But I guess I can see how this can't be an easy adjustment for her.” Daisy frowns as she plays with your fingers. “And seeing that Wanda slide show clearly didn't help. Clearly she is shipping the two of you.” 

You make a face, “Shipping? What's that mean?” 

Daisy laughs as she shakes her head looking at you and poking her tongue to her cheek. “You're so cute when you act like you live under a rock.” You make another face and she stops you from saying anything. “Shipping is when a person, for example Rachel, wants two people together and they support the idea of those two people or characters being together. Think, Everlark for those Hunger Games fans.” 

“Don't hate me, I still haven't gotten around to watching that stuff,” you confess and Daisy's eyes widen. “What? I figured that Rachel will have that phase and I'll just watch it then. Besides, I've always been more into comics and superheroes. Oh and comedies! I love a good comedy. I watched the Harry Potter movies,” you mention to try and get the shock off of Daisy's face. 

“Now we both have some homework to do,” Daisy says as she rises from the table and collects the dishes from the table. “I'll wash these, you go find the first Hunger Games movie and put it on,” she directs and you laugh until you realize that she isn't kidding. You accept it and move to the living room to do as she asked and get comfortable for an impromptu movie night.

Chapter 12

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiwritesfanfics @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld

[rippersz]

𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚆𝚎𝚎𝚖𝚜: 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 (#1)

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Keep in mind: This is my personal view of Larissa Weems. If you disagree with any of my headcanons, then you’re WRONG. (That’s a joke; everyone is entitled to their own vision.) Enjoy.

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- Larissa’s go-to vice is a drink. Wine and coffee, mainly. She enjoys white wine like Moscato because it’s sweet, but if she’s in an angsty mood and wants something drier, she’ll shoot for red. Coffee is never taken black - there’s always at least two sugars and a bit of half & half. Not too dark, not too light. Had in the morning and with lunch. Hot chocolate is an indulgence when she needs to soothe herself.

- On the topic of drinks, Larissa doesn’t drink enough water. She knows it. Every year, at least one of her New Year’s resolutions is to drink more water. Does it happen? ….No. Although, she does keep a semi-full glass beside her bed to satiate that middle-of-the-night thirst. (Yes, she has tiredly knocked over the glass once or twice. No, she will not admit that.) Larissa also enjoys filtered water - she will avoid tap as much as she can.

- Is she a smoker? Nah. Maybe once or twice in her younger years, but she cares far too much about her appearance to form a habit. She reasons the scent will get in her hair and clothes and the effects will stain her teeth and ruin her lung capacity/health. She can’t go around smelling like a cigarette now, can she? However, if she’s ultra stressed and everything has gone to shit - she’ll either take one from a trusted colleague or close friend or buy a pack from a convenience store on a whim. It will be short lived, with one or two puffs coming out of it, before she’s stomping it into the ground and throwing the rest away (waste of money, yes, but it’s her way of punishing herself for even doing it in the first place.)

- That all being said, Larissa does have a secret attraction for those who smoke. It, admittedly, looks quite cool. Especially on the handsome/pretty punks of the world… so she’ll catch herself staring a bit too long before looking away. Some of them catch her eye and smoothly offer up a cig, but she never takes it. Attractive, handsome package, yes, but not very nice breath.

- And that’s another thing - Larissa absolutely loathes the prospect of smelling bad. She has breath mints in her desk drawer, Listerine strips in her purse, and a pack of gum in the Nevermore van. She’s a busy woman with many people to meet, so talking closely and with confidence is absolutely key - knowing her breath isn’t stellar immediately sets her off rhythm. It’s a similar thing for scent overall. People like those who smell good; especially when forced to spend hours working with them. So out of necessity and pure self-pleasure, Larissa has a small perfume collection. Though the brands and bottles are not terribly mainstream. She likes the light floral scents for work and professional outings, but for everything else, Larissa likes to spritz on a deeper, more masculine scent. Nothing too strong, but definitely a smell leaning more toward cologne. Hearing the ‘You smell good’ compliment - or any variation of it - has her smiling internally for the rest of the day. And of course, she keeps a small back-up roll on perfume (a good safe in-between scent) in her purse. She knows very well that she has to use all of the perfumes at some point, yet she cannot stop herself from buying at least one more. Call it a guilty pleasure. Safe to say, she smells bloody amazing.

- Larissa also has very steady hands. If you think that’s a weird headcanon, it isn’t. She was in the cake decorating club in her Nevermore days and found some therapeutic uses there. Getting lost in the designs- the swirls, the dots, the sweet icing- was a favorite pastime. The fact that her hands almost never shake (unless jostled) also helps when doing her makeup, typing, writing, etc.

- Of course she can just shift and put some energy into holding up a face full of makeup for an entire day, but she finds the process soothing. Doing it herself reminds her of her humanity and the little nuances that come with being a refined woman. She likes to darken her brows and line her lips and spend a minute or two perfecting certain things. For a woman who is self-critical, it is important (to her) that she tries to heal that side of herself by becoming better acquainted with her natural flaws. Call it a form of exposure therapy, as well as a calming exercise. Though on the days when she’s running extra late or is simply too tired/lazy to go through the process, she shifts into a simple but professional ‘non-makeup’ makeup look and calls it a day.

- Shifting too, has given her a few unexpected little advantages. One of the most prominent ones being the fact that she’s ambidextrous. She was originally born with a more dominant right hand, but as the years went by and she explored her ability, the occasional familiarity with left-handed people accelerated her use of that hand. Eventually, it left her with equal use and she’s able to perform tasks very well with both hands. Writing, balancing, exercising, etc. are done with about the same level of skill.

- Although Larissa’s sexuality is not clarified (or touched upon at all really) within the show, aside from her old attraction to Gomez (which I don’t fucking believe to be true but that’s neither here nor there), I do think it’s safe to say she could be pansexual. As a woman who has been surrounded by outcasts for quite a bit of her life, considering her Nevermore school days and her life as the principal, she’s been exposed to all types of beings. Larissa is not the kind of woman to be prejudiced or judgy or have a severe preference, so her attraction for others would not be found in one specific type of person. She may find herself going through spells of being more attracted to feminine-presenting people, just as she could experience a stretch of time in which she’s more into masculine-presenting people. If she’s interested in them, she doesn’t see why their gender-identity should matter so much to the point of it being a ‘make or break’ topic. She likes who she likes - simple as that. (Though that being said, I will still continue to ship her with non-binary/female characters/ocs/reader-inserts. Cuz why not.)

- Moving on, Larissa Weems is a sun sneezer. If she looks up at the sun or walks outside and it’s very sunny, or even if she peers at it through a window or sees its shine behind her eyelids, she will sneeze. And it’s not a big loud crazy sneeze. It’s one of those big inhale, eyes closed, stunted kind of sneezes where she sounds like a kitten. Small sneeze for a tall woman.

- Before being enrolled at Nevermore, Larissa was originally placed into the normie schooling system. It was rough and mean, but one good experience she got out of it was the swim team. Her stature, with the long limbs and broader shoulders, aided in her victories. The schedule and regiment was difficult, considering she had to practice and train nearly constantly, but the satisfaction she felt after winning was a glory she rarely felt when young. Her mother was… well. She was not nice. So she pushed young Larissa far more than she had any right to, but part of her older self thanks her mother for her efforts. Although it was just a swim team, she’s sure that without the discipline, she probably wouldn’t be so successful. And for as great as that time could be, it also came with its fair amount of trauma, so she doesn’t talk about it. She doesn’t often like to think about it either. Though the swimming did change her body, giving her some toned muscle and better lung capacity.

- Larissa Weems loves slippers. So soft… so comfy… makes little shuffles on the floor… yes. Slippers.

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Going through a period of immense self-hatred, so I hope this can tide a few people over until I learn that applause does not equal self worth. Love you more than I can say and I hope you’re all doing well. - Rip x

(P.s. Please do let me know if you’d like more of these.)

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[n33dlew0rk]

Memento Mori

rated M | 538 words | cw: vaguely explicit anal sex being performed, light dom-sub tones but that's not the point, character study -ish, exes to lovers but not really, make-up sex but not really, angst, boundaries what boundaries, hurt/no comfort

for @steddieangstyaugust prompt 'second chance' (day 1)

Second chances are a weird thing, right?

Like, the entire concept of being able to blank slate a whole event, relationship, trauma-sprinkled experience, whatever. Fucking bonkers.

Because who the fuck can really, like really, do that? I mean, how fucking many glass shards coated feelings do you have to swallow raw even to begin to try and trust someone as if nothing ever happened. As if it’s not your very own rug, the one you’re sweeping all the hurt under.

But, you see, the craziest part about second chances, the one no one tells you about when recounting grand tales of redemption and forgiveness, is that the yearning is also very much real. Just as much as the pain, if not more. 

The unsettling want, the unending what-ifs, the daydreaming scenarios bleeding into real life, infecting any piss poor try at healing.

And Eddie yearned, oh Eddie wanted. 

That’s exactly why his brain isn’t particularly focused on this second-guessing the second chance gig he’s got going on in the back of his head. 

Because right now there’s nothing more real than the sweaty skin under his hands. Reality, the entirety of it, chose one single form to express itself and it was in the soft whining coming from the body underneath him, muffled by a pillow. 

So Eddie grabs a fistful of Steve’s hair in his hand, tugging on it, pulling his head until he can see his face reflected in the mirror in front of the bed. So Eddie slows down his thrusts, watching closely as Steve’s face contorts and lets that same shameful desire burning inside himself escape his mouth. 

Because Eddie needs to see it, needs to know it’s not a fucking hallucination, not his demise alone to be slipping into habit, aching heart and traitorous horniness muscle memory acting rebellious and climbing over the precarious walls of self-preservation. 

And, like, you know how these things go, the split-second identity crisis preceding the dreaded post-nut clarity. So Eddie knows, he fucking knows, as he’s filling Steve up - Steve the all-encompassing leyline, Steve the revelation in the mundanity of sun-filled afternoon smokes, Steve the life lived out in the open, Steve the forever only makes sense if it’s with you, Steve the space-needing-I-still-feel-like-I-need-to-know-myself-better, Steve the heartbreaker, Steve the brave, the strong, the I don’t know if I can do this, Steve the I thought I was stronger - that he can either collapse on him and make a nest underneath his ribs, a chosen gilded cage of acceptance for him to stroke and soothe Steve’s repentance, or he can put the needle back on the turntable and resume the bitter agonising final track of this shitty concept album of second chances.

Eddie moves quickly then because there are only so many closing notes Lost Trust can afford him before Lost Love starts her compelling speech about things working out this time, about finally being home, about time healing every wound that bled on the damned carpet, passing through it like it’s not feeding the very ghosts of pains not-so-past hiding under it.  

As he leaves, he ties the condom and leaves it on the floor, near Steve’s discarded clothes.

A memento mori for the fucking second chances.

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hiyaa, can you do Dom Melissa x fem reader, where Mel comes home after a frustrating day and lets all her energy out on fem reader?

Hey! Thank you so much for your request anon! I hope this is a little of what you were hoping for (though apologies it's a little on the short side!)

Warnings? - NSFW (unless you're wearing that immaculate poker face of yours)

~*~

It’s nothing new for Melissa to snap at Janine and Jacob, or throw the odd callous comment Gregory’s way.  Granted, she’s softened towards them and today’s outburst is on the harsher end of the spectrum, but it doesn’t exactly surprise anyone.

What does surprise everyone, however, is when Barb tries to help calm her friend down that the red head snaps back at the other woman and storms off, leaving the kindergarten teacher with a rather shocked expression on her face.

She turns to you, raising her hands in defeat.  “Good luck with that one!”

You take a deep breath, trying to decide whether it’s a better idea to go after Melissa now or whether it’s best to give her a few minutes to calm down first.  Either way there’s a good chance she’s going to snap at you too. 

It’s no one’s fault.  Just one of those days where everything that can go wrong, has gone wrong from a flat tyre to a broken mug to one of her kids throwing up on her shoes.  It’s not Melissa’s fault either, but her patience with the day is growing thinner by the minute and to make matters worse, her day isn’t exactly improving.

*

You’re on your way back to your classroom after having picked up your kids from PE when Ava finds you.

“I’m not usually one for throwing people under the bus,” she starts, grabbing hold of your arm.

You frown up at her.  “Uh, yes you are.”

She rolls her eyes at you.  “Okay, so maybe I am, but I kinda like you.  Still, you gotta take one for the team on this one.  I’m throwing you under one hot red fire engine.”

You sigh, slightly dreading to think what Melissa has said or done now if even Ava is coming to you to help diffuse the situation.  “You know I can’t promise anything.”

Melissa is her own woman and while you’re certainly got better at handling her mercurial moods, you’ve never been one to tell her she can’t feel how she feels.  You know she has a habit of bottling things up, so you’ve tried to reassure her that she is safe to feel exactly how she feels with you.  Sometimes that means she’s the softest creature imaginable, sometimes she goes off like a firework.  You wouldn’t have her any other way.

*

At home that evening, Melissa dumps her bag down and heads straight for the kitchen.  Leaving her to it, you get changed and stay out of her way, hopeful that she’ll be able to channel her frustration into something delicious. 

When you smell smoke and hear a pot get thrown in the sink as the red head turns the air blue you know your hopes have been dashed.  Bracing yourself, you get up from the sofa, making your way through to the kitchen. 

“Okay, this isn’t working,” you say firmly before you can change your mind.  You quickly and efficiently begin to tidy away the things she has spread out on the work surface, ignoring the raised eyebrow and the hands that have been planted on Melissa’s hips.  “You need to snap out of this before you end up saying something you can’t take back and really hurting someone or Ava starts some stupid disciplinary because you somehow pissed her off.”

Tossing down the cloth you’ve been using to clean down the work surface, you turn to face her.  “You want something to take your frustration out on, try me.”

At your words, the red head’s other eyebrow rises up her forehead.  She opens her mouth as if she’s about to snap back at you, before pausing, her eyes dropping to your lips.

She surges forward, kissing you hard, pushing you against the worktop.  “You’re sure?” she asks a little breathlessly. 

You lean back, pulling your lips out of kissing range.  “Win, win, right?” you smirk.  Your lovemaking doesn’t usually come from a place of frustration, but you know by the way she’s quick to check in that it will always, first and foremost come from a place of love and care.

It’s apparently the all the answer she needs as she leans in to capture your lips once more in a bruising kiss, her hands grasping your hips as she begins to manoeuvre you towards the bedroom.

*

Your sex life with Melissa has never lacked passion, but this is new, rougher.  You’re littered in marks she’s left behind already as her lips travel down your body.  Not that you’re opposed to them in any way.  Truth be told you’ve always rather enjoyed the marks she leaves.  A colourful reminder of your intimate moments together. 

Her instructions tonight have been practically monosyllabic; strip, bed, no hands, wait, up.

Waiting on your hands and knees before her, you feel her smoothing her hands up and down your back.  One hand slides higher, twisting in your hair and using the leverage to pull you up until your back is flush against her front.  You feel her breasts push into your back and the strap at her hips brush against you, bringing a breathless moan from your lips. 

Squirming as her lips find your neck once more, she nuzzles behind your ear, knowing just which spots drive you to distraction.  There’s a pause, however, as a few words ghost past your ear.

“You’re sure?”

You take a deep breath, trying to organise your thoughts.  One of her arms arms winds around your body, holding you against her in a moment of gentleness.  “You’re not going to break me, Melissa.”

Turning your head you capture her lips in a messy kiss, only to cry out as she thrusts into you deeply, filling you.  You fall forward, bracing yourself on your arms.  The hand that had been around your body shifts to grip your hip as the red head pauses for a moment.  You feel her other hand stroke down your back before settling on the base of your spine.  Again, you can feel her hesitation. 

“I know the word, Melissa,” you gasp out, still adjusting to the sensation of being filled by her.  “But I’m not using it.”  It’s a conversation you’d never had with any of your previous partners and at the time, you’d jokingly asked ‘why, what are you gonna do to me?’  You’d come to realise, however, that it had been an important conversation to have.  It’s let you test boundaries and has strengthened the trust between you. 

“But you will?” she asks seriously. 

You look over your shoulder, meeting her eyes.  You can see it written all over her face how much she wants this, but only if you do too.  “Only if I need to.”

“Good girl.”

*

“Someone’s in a better mood this morning,” smiles Barb as Melissa practically dances back to their table, coffee in hand. 

The red head smirks back at the kindergarten teacher.  “Hard not to be after the night I had.”

“I don’t need to know!” says Barb, holding up a hand as though that will stop any further words from Melissa’s mouth.  “I do not need to know.”

“You’re probably right,” she replies.  “You’d only blush.”

[ddollipop]

TILL I'M FINALLY FIXED. . . ! — ( MOIRA O'DEORAIN. )

#. synopsis! — you know this is a nasty habit, but it's not one you're willing to break until it breaks you first .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , lesbian smut, female on female, dirty talk , explicit age difference , references to power imbalances , oral sex , cunnilingus , dom!moira , sub!reader , one-sided stimulation , giving preference (moira) , praise , sort of birthday sex , collaring , mentions of alcohol (past) , mentions of smoking + cigarettes , toxic relationship dynamics , explicit references to mommy issues , implied rough childhood (reader) , usage of a sex toy (vibrator) , thigh riding , multiple positions , multiple orgasms .

#. word count! — 4.1k .

You know you shouldn’t be here, —but here you are yet again, coming to Moira’s every beck and call. All it took was one text and you’re standing in front of her door in a nice little dress that won’t stay on for much longer anyhow, but you wanted to wear it because you bought it less for yourself and more for her. You want her to see you in it, take a moment to admire the way it flatters your figure, hugs all the right places, let her eyes rake over you like you’re some kind of fine arts exhibit before she takes her sweet time stripping it off and tossing it to the wayside. And then you’re sure she’ll trail those nails of hers along the bare skin of your arms, toying with the straps of your lacy bra before she finally unhooks it from the back and discards of it as well, leaving lipstick stains on your chest when her mouth meets your skin. She’ll whisper that you’re pretty, and you might just believe it for the night, and then she’ll make you believe it when she kisses you hard enough to steal your breath away, and—

Your thoughts still when she opens the door for you, giving you a knowing smirk. There was never a question of if you were coming, just one of how quickly you’d be arriving, and here you are, even though you shouldn’t be. She invites you inside and lingers behind you under the guise of closing the door, but you can feel her piercing stare on your body as she flips the lock. You leave your heels at the door, as always. 

No, it’s not a good idea to be back here again, but you’ve convinced yourself by now that sometimes it’s okay to live a little. Moira is a lot of things, but she’s someone you trust enough to let see you in very vulnerable positions, and you like to think that’s enough. It might be a naive perspective to have on the matter, —but that’s to be expected of you, so young and pliable. You met Moira on the night of your twenty-first birthday, celebrating alone at a bar where she was sipping on straight whiskey while you nursed a poorly prepped martini (and found that alcohol in general just isn’t much to your taste.)

Nearly thirty years your senior, she felt like she was taking a chance on you that night. It’d been a rough day, and she’d gone so long only caring about her work and all the ways she was looking to change the world that her desire to want and be wanted had since fallen to the wayside. But there you were with those lost, innocent eyes, glancing around like you hadn’t a clue what you were doing (because you didn’t.) She was so confident and smooth in the way she moved down the bar to sit next to you, then let her hand rest on your thigh after a few minutes of chit-chat. One thing led to another, she bought you a few drinks to try, and then took you to a nearby hotel for the night where she sank her teeth in deep enough to keep you around for a while.

Nearing twenty-two and just as eager to please her, you accept her kiss with parted lips, letting her tongue rake itself over yours.

“You’re beautiful as ever,” she says, running the back of her slender index finger down the length of your cheek, “—is that a new dress you’ve got on?”

You know it doesn’t mean anything that she noticed. Not really, anyway. It’s in her job description to be observant, and her memory is impeccable, and yet you let it get to you that she noticed. You let yourself think that she really does care beyond what you’ve got between your legs that she really likes to press her mouth against until you’re left a quivering mess.

“Yeah, it is,” you nod, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I thought I’d treat myself. Do you like it?”

“I do,” she confirms, letting her eyes trail down the length of you once more. “An early birthday present to yourself, I presume?”

“You remembered?”

She remembered. Heaven help you, she makes this so much more complicated than it needs to be. Or, she helps you make it much more complicated than it needs to be, anyway. You know it’s a fool’s game to chase after her like she’s some kind of prize to be won, but. . . She’s so mature, and she makes you feel so special.

Long story short, you’ve got a down-bad case of mommy issues, but when you’re all tied up in Moira’s arms and she’s kissing every inch of you, wanting you down to the marrow, —it’s hard to let yourself be sad.

“Of course I remembered,” she replies so tenderly.

But tender like a bruise.

“Come, I got you something,” she beckons, moving her hand from your cheek and down to your wrist.

Moira pulls you along to her bedroom, the one you’ve been in many times before with a large sliding-glass door that leads to a balcony overlooking the city below. You’re not sure how much her rent is each month for this luxury apartment of hers, but you know it can’t be cheap. Sometimes you stand with her outside in the late night air, one of her button-up shirts hanging down to your kness with nothing but panties underneath after a nice time together. She’ll smoke a cigarette under the moonlight and press it to your lips every now and again, letting you take small hits that you never really breathe in.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything,” you tell her in earnest. “Besides, my birthday isn’t for a few more days. . .”

“Oh, hush,” she tells you, sounding more playful than scolding as she hands you a gift bag.

It’s a solid crimson color, which you can’t help but think is oddly befitting of her. There’s no glitter, frills, or ribbons, no bells and whistles to name, so you move to open it, but glance up at her in hesitation, as if asking for permission. She nods, to which you swallow and push some of the tissue paper aside, digging your hand into the bag until you touch something smooth toward the bottom.

Confused, you pull the item out and feel your face heat up. It’s a leather collar.

“Do you like it?” She inquires, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I think you should try it on.”

You nod and hand it over to her, pushing your hair out of the way so she can fasten it around your throat. It seems like such an easy process for her, and you can’t help but wonder if she’s ever done such a thing with anyone else. Once it’s secured, she moves in front of you and takes a step back, admiring the accessory.

“What do you think?” You ask, sounding somewhat sheepish.

“What a sight you are to behold, a ghrá,” she hums. “It even matches your dress.”

Black leather with a little black dress, it’s kind of hard to go wrong there.

“Come,” she all but coos, taking a seat on the edge of her king-sized bed right next to the oakwood nightstand.

It has three drawers, the top of which is always filled with various items you’ve had on or inside you over the past year; a few vibrators, various lubricants in different flavors, body oils, —and now, a silver chain. . . Like the kind you might use to keep a dog in place for a bit or curl around your bike to stop it from getting stolen. You stand between her thighs as she lets the length of it fall to the floor. Your guess would be that it’s only five feet or so long, but you’re sure she’ll make do with it just fine.

“Lean down for me,” she requests, and you do, no questions to be asked on the matter.

Moira smirks as she hooks the chain to the collar on your neck.

“Such an obedient thing, aren’t you?” She quips, then gives the chain a little yank for good measure. “Kneel.”

She feels her hunger grow the moment you comply so easily, as if she’s your master and you’ve been trained ever so perfectly to follow her every command without question.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, wrapping the metal links around her knuckles, then folding her fingers back over them.

She places a fingernail beneath your chin and tilts your gaze up until you’re transfixed on her irises.

“You’re so pretty like this, did you know that?” She inquires rhetorically.

The nail against your skin becomes the whole of her palm against your cheek. Her hand is cold, but you can’t seem to care beyond the brief initial shock.

“Don’t think your efforts go unnoticed, darling, I know exactly who you purchased that dress for,” Moira smirks. “And I’m enjoying every moment of seeing you in it, just as you intended.”

And that’s really all it takes. This love might bleed like an open wound, might fester until you stitch it up again, —but it’s here that you don’t mind all the nights you craved validation for every good deed that went unnoticed. Maybe Moira isn’t praising your straight A’s or being proud of just how much like her you look, but what’s the fucking difference if it fills the same void? What does it really matter if it helps?

“Open,” she utters, and as you do, she places two fingers from her opposite hand against the flat of your tongue, drawing little circles in your saliva.

Then she rests an elbow against her knee and leans down a little lopsidedly, replacing her fingers with her lips, kissing you sloppily, capturing your mouth and keeping you there until she’s had her fill of it. When she breaks away, you feel her fingers searching for your dress’s zipper along the back.

“I really hate to see this go so soon, but certain sacrifices are in order,” she sighs a little playfully, tugging the zipper down about halfway before standing upright and using the chain on your neck to pull you with her.

On your feet again, she helps you out of your dress and makes a show of folding it ever so neatly, then placing it on the nightstand in front of her lamp and her alarm clock that’s woken you up too soon far too many times for your liking. Moira lays you down on her bed, and it’s so large that it reminds you of the one you’d search for at night when bad dreams took hold of your fragile little heart and squeezed just hard enough to crush it into pieces at will. Only this time, there’s warmth awaiting your endeavors, and you’re not a lowly little child that has to beg for affection.

She rubs a few teasing lines down your slit through the black lace of your panties, teasing you briefly with her touch. For as long as you’ve known her, Moira has never been very keen on reciprocation, preferring to give rather than take. She likes the control and the motions of it all, likes to know that she has the upper hand, —and she always does when she’s with you.

It’s only been a few moments, but it feels like a lifetime and then some by the time she hooks her fingers under the waistband of your underwear and begins to tug them down your thighs. You feel the scratch of the materials against your flesh as you lift your hips off the sheets to make it easier, and she’s much less careful with your panties than she was with your dress just a bit ago. They wind up somewhere on the floor at the foot of her bed.

You gasp a bit when the pad of her thumb slips past your lips and nudges along your clit almost instantaneously. The quick reaction makes her snicker a bit.

“Sensitive as ever,” She comments offhandedly.

The unspoken part of that is something along the lines of I’ve always loved that about you.

After a year’s worth of hookups, late nights, and hellishly early mornings spent together, Moira is virtually an expert in all things pertaining to you. Such is only exemplified by the way she teases you for a bit with her tongue before letting it slip past your lips to lap at your inner folds.

You choke on a few curse words just above her, already clawing at the sheets as she flicks her tongue against you, pulling the chain that still remains clutched in her hand a bit tighter. It’s not enough to cause any pain, but it squeezes your neck from the back and makes it ever so slightly harder to take in gasping breaths of air.

She was more than right when she called you sensitive, —both to her touch and everything else about her. You’ve always been so eager to make her happy, and she loves that about you. You’d jump through rings of fire for her, and she knows it.

The mixture of your arousal and her spit makes for a delicious squelshing sound at every move she makes, tongue thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt, abusing your clit for her pleasure while you whine and whimper above her. This kind of pleasure has always felt overwhelming in a good way; the kind that gets your blood pumping, heart racing, and inhabitions lowered enough to fall for someone like her, even when you know it’s bad for you.

Moira feels the stress of her work and the critics of her methods melt away when her tongue is busy torturing you so sweetly, lapping at every glistening inch she can. She’s mind-numbingly thorough, and it leaves your thighs quivering long before your orgasm begins to prickle just under your skin. For as good as she is with words, it comes as no surprise that she’s just as skilled with her tongue in all areas of her life.

It doesn’t take much more of this to have you cumming on her tongue, cunt spasming so helplessly under her touch.

Fuck, you’d do anything to have her like this every night when she gets in from work and needs something —someone— to take her frustrations out on. You’ve always been good for that.

“Tired?” She muses, regarding you a bit sweetly as she sits upright and wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her button-up shirt.

“Just a bit,” you answer, breathing slightly easier now that she isn’t pulling as harshly on the chain clipped to your throat.

“Not tired enough to stop now, I’d hope?”

What you really wanna say is that you’d never stop until she told you that you could, gave you explicit confirmation that enough was enough, —but you can’t. You know deep down that it’d scare her off, and you just couldn’t handle that kind of rejection, so you shake your head instead.

“Good,” Moira replies. “It’d be a shame to pause here when I have so much planned for you tonight. That was merely the tip of the iceberg.”

An appetizer, one she was wetting her chops with.

She digs around in that drawer next to her bedside, pulling a vibrator from the inside. You’re not so sure she’s ever used this one on you before, but if there’s one thing Moira always knows how to do right, it’s give you pleasure, so you resign yourself to laying there on her bed as she presses one of the pebble-like buttons on the shaft and feels the item begin to shake in her hand.

“Turn over,” she quips, thinking you’ve had enough cool-down time between sets of stimulation, —and you do, hiking your ass into the air and speading your thighs apart to give her ample access.

You feel her nails scratch thoughtfully over your goosebump-ridden skin, pausing for a moment to knead at your flesh a few times. Then she runs a hand down to the small of your back, wordlessly encouraging you to rest your head against the mattress and let her get to work. A needy moan is drawn from your parted lips the very second she presses the vibrator to your pussy lips, causing shivers to wrack through your body.

The soft hum of the toy speeds up into more of a whirring sound as she increases the tenacity and pushes it inward, slipping past your folds to pulsate against your desperate clit. Moira seems rather satisfied with the sounds you’re making, even as she reaches just under your body to snatch the chain still dangling from around your neck. You feel it jostle as she wraps it around her knuckles once, then twice, pulling taunt while she begins drawing blissful shapes into your snatch that have your eyes rolling back into your head.

Then from the soft melody of the toy’s buzz came a sudden crescendo into a firm, droning noise that made you cry out a bit from the intensity.

“Ah,” Moira says, almost in amusement, “I take it that’s the one?”

“Yes,” you reply quickly, the word coming out so ruined by no fault of your own.

“Very well,” she notes, swirling the tip against your clit again before pulling away and repeating.

It’s like she’s teasing you, though you’re not sure if that’s the intention of it all. Either way, you make no attempt to complain. It’s impossible to even think about doing so when you’ve got stars swashing across your vision. You’re sure you’d have been drooling between your legs by now, dripping all over her sheets, if not for the knob of the vibrator catching and returning it, slicking you up even more.

Your neck is beginning to ache from the position you’re laying in, but you ignore the signs from your body to move and find a more comfortable posture. All you can focus on is the heat between your legs and the toy she’s now pressing so roughly against you that you can practically feel the vibrations in your womb. The pressure builds once again, your stomach twisting into knots, —and then you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as an orgasm wracks through your body. It was so much easier to elicit the second time around, almost enough for you to be embarrassed.

Moira pulls the toy away slowly, letting your lips kiss it softly goodbye as she switches it back to a stationary position.

“To your liking, I take it?” She asks, and you can hear the smirk in her voice.

“Yeah,” you huff, “—definitely.”

It just always is when you’re with her, no matter what she does, or even if she only uses what she has readily available. Anything she offers is enough. You’d do anything just touch her, feel her skin against yours, feel her lips ghost against you like they always do. You’re left to toe another dangerous line between ecstasy and infatuation.

She tugs the chain and you find yourself on your knees, kneeling a bit unsteadily on your thighs that haven’t quite stopped quivering just yet. You lower your ass to your heels on the mattress as she wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you a bit closer to trail some peppered kisses down your jaw. It’s hard not to feel special when you have her like this, —when she showers you in all the adoration you missed out on in your younger years. Sure, maybe it’s not the same, and maybe it is just placing a bandaid over a gash deep enough to need stitches, but it’s the best you can do. There’s no amount of therapy that can really change the past, and if Moira is what it takes for you to feel like you’re worth something for a while, then so fucking be it.

By now, your pussy’s sopping wet and swollen, but still in desperate need of her attention. Moira kisses you again, but your lips this time, slipping her tongue into your mouth and swapping your spit for her own.

You swallow down the I love you that rises in the back of your throat like bile. You can’t say that. . . You won’t. You can think it all you want, because she can’t read your mind (as much as it feels like she can sometimes) —but you can’t say it out loud. Not when you know it means throwing away this already pitifully fragile balance.

“Come,” she says simply, moving to sit at the head of her bed, long legs stretched out and clothed in black dress pants with the texture of rough denim.

She situates you as she pleases, one leg on either side of her right thigh, one hand on your hip to keep you steady while the other fiddles with the chain. She coaxes you down until your pussy is flat against her, taking in a sharp breath from the warmth and the friction.

“Let’s get this out of the way, shall we?” She comments, both hands meeting behind your back to unclasp your bra, —the last item of clothing left on your frame.

Once it’s shed, she gives you another look-over, admiring you like she’s never seen you this way before. 

“Your wrists,” she requests, to which you comply so obediently, like a pet she’s trained ever so well. 

Moira wraps the length of the chain around your wrists a few times, tucking the end through the space in the middle. Under any other circumstances, you’d have easily been able to wriggle your way free, but you allow yourself to be bound for the sake of her pleasure; leaning forward to rest against her shoulder.

“Sweet thing,” she murmurs. “One more? They say third time’s the charm, after all.”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, even at the risk of coming on a little too strong.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to mind the intensity of the statement and appears to chalk it up to pillow talk.

With both of her hands free now, she plants one on each side of your hips, nails digging slightly into the plush of your skin. A whine clings to the back of your throat as she guides you, coaxing you into a subtle grind against her clothed thigh. Sharp prickles run along your spine as you move a little faster, chasing a final high that really can’t seem to come fast enough.

Moira seemed more than content to lie back and watch you drive yourself wild in her lap, her hands less guiding your motions now and more just coming along for the ride that she’s letting you set the pace of. You spur between quick, jagged motions and slow, deliberate ones that really send shocks throughout your body, all of which meld deliciously together and leave you love drunk atop her.

You know the wetness from your pussy is staining her pants, likely more than enough to seep through the fabric, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all. With your heart pounding like a drum in your chest, you almost have the wherewithal to wonder if she can hear it. You find it’s harder to breathe now, lungs aching a little from the inconsistent amounts of air you’re taking in a series of random gulps, then sputtering out between desperate moans of pleasure.

“Moira,” you hiss, —and she squeezes your hips in silent response.

The heat in the pit of your stomach has begun to spark like a live wire, just begging to catch ablaze. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, muffling the ragged sobs that you can’t hold back any longer, eventually sinking your teeth into the junction of her slender shoulder when your climax hits you. 

Moira listens to the uneven rhythm of your breathing as it steadily calms into something less strangled, trailing her fingers down your naked spine. When you’ve come down from the high, she unravels the chain, then removes it entirely, and stuffs it (as well as the vibrator) back into the drawer they came from. The collar comes off just as readily, and she takes a moment to check on the condition of your throat in the process. Best of all, you just know it’s going to be one of the better nights when she reaches off to the side of the bed, plucking her half-empty pack of cigarettes from the nightstand to place one of them between her lips.

[baeklination]

Rural

Date: 231110

Warnings: SMUT 🔞, general fucking, fingering

Pairing: Baekhyun x F. Reader

WC: 4k

NOTE: Story 3 of Theme BAMBI. This is a soft one.

Masterlist

¤¤

Some days blue, some days grey, the mountains roll in the distance. Even when you get as far as farm country they lie farther still. Silent and never changing - a mystery that lends solace. 

Between them and here lies all you’ve seen in the world, but from the home where you grew up surrounded by golden fields and wind rushing through corn stalks to where you now live, on a very quiet edge of a very small town, it doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, with a little more than a modest salary you could save some each month and visit one of those big cities the ladies at the cafe are always talking about with so much shock and fascination…but it’ll keep.

If anything, what you would consider these days is a tour based on temperature; anywhere where it’s not scorching before the clock has struck eleven.

Scorching.

Scorching… 

“Rats..!”

Sticking the pin in the paper haphazardly you run down from upstairs to the kitchen, knowing you’ll be met by smoke billowing out from the oven - but you’re not. Saying a prayer of please, please, please, you grab a mitten, open the oven and pull out the cobbler. 

“Thank god..!”, you sigh, relieved to see you haven’t ruined the afternoon goodies you’ve promised Ms. Ethel to bring round before work.

Peering into the oven you see the culprit, a classic: edibles from a previous use turning into charcoal. 

“All in a day’s work”, you mumble to yourself, scraping the burnt piece away.

°

“Oh, you hadn’t forgotten about me”, Ms. Ethel chirps as soon as she opens the door.

“It’s not that late, is it?”

“Not for an old hen like me, but you ought to be on your way already. Or are you taking the day off?”

“The week’s just started, Ms. Ethel, I don’t need to rest just yet”, you smile at her on your way to the kitchen. “I’ll be on time. Either way, Ida has a key as well and I don’t suspect they’ll be breaking down the door on a Tuesday. Now, what do you think? Presentable?"

“I think the ladies will be fighting over it. I’m fighting myself right now”, she laughs, smacking her lips.

“Go on, have a bite. It’s best fresh outta the oven.”

“And serve a cobbler with a gaping hole in it? Oh, the jokes would never end, sweet girl.”

“Come now, Ms. Ethel. You don’t serve it whole. Cut it into pieces before they come and they’ll never know the difference.” 

“M-hm… Well, the cook knows best… I still have some coffee in the pot, it’ll go fine with a bit of sweet.”

“Go sit down, I’ll bring it.”

Having survived her husband of fifty-three years, Ms. Ethel is going on her seventh year alone. She says she isn’t lonely, and you reckon she mostly isn’t because she keeps herself busy with a visit here, a trip there all throughout her weeks, but nonetheless spending every morning with someone for fifty years is a habit you don’t wean off easily and that’s why you try to stop at hers a few days a week, to make sure. Suppose it is also for your own benefit. With your folks out on the countryside she’s become like a relative of sorts and being around her, doing little chores to alleviate her burden, is comforting.

Sometimes - like right now - seeing her sitting by the window, half smiling with curlers in her hair, she’s so cute it breaks your heart. You don’t know why exactly. It just does. But coffee and cake won’t wait for no one, so you snap out of it and join her in the living room.

“Here you go. Give me your most- second most honest opinion.”

“You never disappoint. If these hands of mine were still working proper I’d tell the ladies I was the baker.”

Lifting her spoon in cheers, she winks before eating it, and since it’s rude to wait for an evaluation you look out the window. Her view is almost the exact same as from your own, barring the houses farther down the street being visible here. You could tell the day was heating up fast on your way over, and the cat resting under the neighbour's tree tells the same story. A car breaks first the silence then your view; your heart skips. Shielded by the angle and speed, the frame is gone in the blink of an eye, but that's all you need - the tan arm, checkered shirt rolled up, holding the steering wheel of that red truck, is his.

“Mm!”, Ms. Ethel exclaims, bringing you back. “Sweet and deep just like I like it!”

¤ 

You’re a capable woman. A business owner - albeit small - making and mending clothes, paying rent on time, handling salary and meetings with your accountant by yourself. Even got your own house and home. But one hint of him and you turn silly. Knowing Baekhyun’s in town rattles your brain and instead of solely focusing on the job at hand you’re preoccupied with thoughts of how to see him. Should you head over to Joe’s pretending to need some electrical advice and hope Baekhyun’s stopped in to buy some new tools? Or the grocery store? The diner? You don’t want to be too obvious and get the folks talking - so maybe it’s best to stay put? Look as if you’re only minding your own and hope he’ll stop by and say hello. But what if he doesn’t? If you occupy yourself with something in the front part of the store, say fixing the mannequins or do a bit of sweeping you might see him across the road. Of course, one waves in such a situation - and of course, he’d be encouraged to come over…

This ridiculous merry-go-round occurs every time he's in town. Only a few times have you missed each other, be it because you were tending to a customer while he was loading up his truck or you stepping out just before he came in looking to buy a set of assorted buttons you know he didn't need.

Oh, but why is he such a fool? There have been times you know he’s on the verge of taking a step towards confessing, but being interrupted or simply not quite finding the courage he’d held his tongue. He’d smile and chuckle, squeeze the fedora in his hands before saying goodbye with a hint of sadness.

And while neither of you said anything it could be weeks before you saw each other again and sometimes you'd imagine that next time he wouldn't be alone. How uncomfortably the pit in your stomach sits when you think he might’ve been set up with a “nice girl” from there and you’ll find out about it on a regular day like this. Like the day the little bell over the door chimed, announcing his entry - accompanied by a woman you didn't recognise. He must have seen it then. How your stomach churned, making you too sick to even greet her with a smile. You knew it was all over, too late, on account of your own cowardice. And he must have seen how vigour was breathed back in your body when he explained how the woman had merely asked for directions; a visitor driving through town finding herself in need of a seamstress due to an unfortunate rip of her trouser leg.

Sometimes you acknowledge that driving the matter forward can't fall solely on him. After all, everything you've gained since you were seventeen has been by your own efforts and decisions. You've lived precisely as you've wanted to - with courage. So why is this so difficult..? If it were to end up a fiasco you'd barely see him anyway, right? 

Right!

But if it did end up a fiasco you'd still be wretchedly in love with him. Not giving him a chance to say yes also means he can't say no.

°

You saw him way across the street but of course put on a smaller act of coming out to give your little café set in front a wipe with a cloth - just in case.

"Hiya, Byun..! How's that crop 'o yours surviving..!", Humphrey, owner of a small shop for tinkers to the far left of you, jovially shouts.

"They're hanging in there, Mr. Thomas..!", Baekhyun calls back to him. When his head is turned a thin veil of sweat on the back of his neck glistens in the sun, carrying down the way under his shirt collar. Sympathizing with his situation of doing manual labour in this heat, you think how uncomfortably warm it must be under both flannel and undershirt. Before you're aware, the thought that he must have that film of sweat over his shoulders and chest comes into your mind. If his skin was touching yours…

"I'm sure your fabrics are doing fine as ever in spite of the sun?"

"Oh… yes. I guess I picked a good product", you smile, certain a flush is branding your cheeks, that he knows what you were thinking just now. 

"You have a long drive home, let me get you something to drink. Sit."

Going to the back of the store to fetch a bottle you take a quick look in the mirror and can determine your facial colour hasn't undergone any dramatic change. Thank you.

On your way back you stop for a second, mesmerized by the way Baekhyun wafts his hat in hope of some alleviation. The awning has gotten him away from direct sunlight but the heat is so pressing it's only a marginal change. He looks up from his seat when he hears the click and fizzle, and humbly accepts the bottle of Nehi soda. Gulping half of it down in one go he exhales loudly, the way all of us do after drinking carbonated drinks and tips the bottle in your direction.

“You're a lifesaver.”

“It's just a soda on a hot summer's day… So, are they? Your crop hanging in there alright?”

When it comes to Baekhyun, you're terrible at smalltalk, but luckily he doesn't seem to notice or leastways not mind. 

“I’m not in any peril just yet. I upgraded my irrigation system last season. Cost me a penny, but it's been worth it. You know how-” Stopping, he chuckles and knits his brows. “I'm sure this isn't the least interesting for you.”

“No… But it's all French to me…”

“Well, then, how's your folks doing? I think it's been a while since I saw their car passing out there. They move?”

“They're still out there. But my father took a tumble, so they've been staying in. On account of his leg.”

“Oh, that doesn't sound too good. Has he been to the doctor's?”

“Mm. It's broken. I'm going over on Friday to stay the weekend, do some work around there. If the buses start going again, that is…”

“I can give you a lift.”

And just like that, an opportunity like no other opened up.

“I’m sure you’re busy, I wouldn’t like to put you–”

“I always have time for you.”

°

To say your mind has been preoccupied elsewhere this Friday is an understatement. At times it seemed like time wasn't moving quickly enough. Other times it was moving too fast, no doubt a result of nerves. It was a tiny, white lie you told Ida about having tons to do before you depart and therefore would be locking up early, but she didn't mind either way - an extra few hours of weekend is nothing to complain about. 

The tons you had to do was to give in to vanity; change into a fresh dress, dab some powder on your face. The lipstick stayed in the drawer - you don't want to be too obvious. And not fully admitting it even to yourself, if Baekhyun sees you put some effort into it he might not wish to smud- anyway, your folks would wonder about the pageantry. 

You can’t help wondering if he really was planning on coming up here or if he made it up. Of course he didn’t make it up; driving all that way just for you? Maybe he would. He said he always has time for you. 

“I always have time for you…" 

Such butterflies go through your body when you think back on how he said it, so matter-of-factly, and you promise yourself that, if he doesn’t take the first step today, as the sun is your witness, you will.

You were ready forty minutes ahead of time and after sitting on the hallway chair for ten minutes you got so restless that you decided to step over to Ms. Ethel's. It was actually a good thing since she'd just done the laundry and hanging it to dry gave you something to do as well as it unburdened her.

You've learned to recognise the sound of his engine after all this time so he doesn't have to come into view for you to know.

"That will be your lift then?", Ms. Ethel asks when she sees your reaction.

"Seems it is. You're alright, nothing else you need? Trash to take out?"

"Go on, I'll make due. Say why isn't Mr. Byun married yet? A fine gentleman like him ought to have a wife, don't you think?" She's not blind. Her eyes twinkle when she opens the door and continues "Mm. And a fine woman like you should have a husband…"

You want to confirm what she already knows, share your secret, but now is not the time so you simply swat your hand smile.

"I'll see you Monday, Ms. Ethel.”

°

If smalltalk is one of your weaker points, then smalltalk around a subject is weaker still. All throughout the hour-long drive you spoke about this and that. Mostly memories from when you were growing up, the difficulties of Baekhyun having a different background than most, why you left, why he stayed and so on, but in the back of your head you tried to find an “in”, as they say. Some way to get talking about the two of you, but whichever line you had seemed contrived,  and plainly put: you were too scared. But when he offered to lend your parents a book about irrigation and new gadgets, you jumped at the chance, deciding that following him in under the guise of wanting to have a look at the old place, would create the perfect moment to tell him. Away from the road and him having to concentrate on driving was best anyway.

You take a few steps before realizing it's raining. Calling it rain is almost an overstatement. It's what you refer to as god's flower mister; rain so fine it feels like someone is using a giant sprayer from up above.

Baekhyun leaves the door open so you walk in, curious to see if it's stayed the same. It mostly has. Maybe a new kitchen table or sofa, you don't remember that well. It's only a minute until he's back with the book and it's too soon. You can't even find anything unnecessary to say, some remark about the place. 

“Do you want to have a look around?” He's awkward and fidgety. He's thinking the same thing as you are. “It's all the same, but…”

You're on the verge of doing it. Right there, with a lump in your throat. He must know what you're thinking. 

“Oh, okay. Well, then I think I know it already.”

You turn around and grab the doorknob, your lungs tight and pulling. Say it. Say it, say it, tell him! You know you can't do it. A coward.

It's over…

"Wait."

Baekhyun's hand goes to the door. Tentativeness like never before is painted on his face. You dare not move and ruin the delicate momentum. Sliding from the door to the knob, he takes your hand, holding it with the utmost tenderness…then bends forward and presses his mouth onto yours. A whirr goes round your head. His lips are so soft. Moving back he considers your expression then leans forward again, sighing out his relief just before your lips touch. Parting yours, you let your tongue slide onto, under his, feeling his hands gently close around your waist. This elation might not be emotional - if you were to look down you might see your feet hovering an inch off the floor, so wholly does the weight off your shoulders and happiness in your heart feel. 

During a moment's breath, Baekhyun glances at the stairs - a Freudian slip of the eye or a question? Either way you do the same then allow him to take your hand and lead you upstairs. 

It's just a short walk but nervousness, giddiness, impatience all fit in there.

The room doesn't look like you remember it from growing up, when it belonged to his folks, but neither does it seem like he's taken an earnest interest in the decor, not minding a frill on the curtains or flower pattern on the bedlinen. 

It's really happening. 

Amidst the softness of his lips you can't help noticing the fumbling of his hands against your neckline.

"I'm a klutz", he laughs shyly, leaving the dress buttons to you.

All of a sudden you become vulnerable. While getting undressed in the course of kissing follows a natural flow, taking your own clothes off with eyes wide open leaves you exposed and becomes somewhat of a revealing of your body. But you gather Baekhyun feels the same way, slightly turning as he does, to put his own garments on a chair. When the undershirt pulls up along his back you can't help pausing; his lean muscles are a testament to years of physical labour and carry on over his shoulders, arms and his torso. In front of you he's turned from the sweet man to infinitely alluring.

Oh…

You're glad that he's the one to remove your bra. After he's pushed the straps from your shoulders you let it fall to the rug beneath and his fingers whisper over your back; biding his time, perhaps waiting for courage. 

Then, you feel the touch of his palm as he puts it to your breast, as lightly as if you were made of glass, but daring to put some pressure on it once your lips meet again. Taking a few steps forward he carefully steers you to the bed where he pulls the covers aside for you to get in.

The hairs on his legs against yours with none, the press of his stomach on yours. Him. Stroking hair from your brow, he studies your face with warmth then smiles.

"I guess you've known for some time that I love you."

You take a deep breath, trembling because finally, it's been said. You nod, pull his head closer.

Under your fingers you feel the muscles on his back contract and relax with his small movements. By his fingers the hem of your underwear slips down to be taken off completely when you raise your hips. When he latches his thumbs under his own you're shy to look, as if being attracted to that part of him is shameful, but you are. He's hard, swaying, when he lies back down. Further opening your legs, he guides himself to your entrance amidst showering you with his lush lips; a hint of salt and imagined earth. 

On your slick coating he slides the head in with ease, distributing buzzes and whirls as moves.

"Uh……." His soft sigh over your face is a treasure. Pushing further in each time until completely lodged he whispers "Tell me if I'm going too fast."

His elbows frame you in and props him up, leaving only his stomach against yours as he softly claps with his groin.

Allowing you to sneak through with your arms you put your hands on the small of his back, feeling the billowing from below.

Pushing your leg up, he thrusts faster, resting his head on your shoulder so that his hair tickles your cheek. The gentle hums and moans are replaced by heavy exhales and short groans while he's coming closer to climaxing. Your insides swirl and twinkle. The evening hour doesn't matter - in this heat, sweat accumulates between your rocking bodies and mixes with the damp smell of a weathered house.

Panting hard, the quiver in his voice giving it all away, the clapping eventually turns irregular and unbridled, ending with his orgasm. 

His heartbeat is on fire - yours is too - and the heat feels strong enough to burn your chest, but even with the desperation for oxygen, his weight on top of you is a rapture unmatched.

Looking at his hands intertwined with yours you're struck by how well he's managed to keep them decently gentlemanlike in spite of his work. He's been perfectly still for some time now. Since he managed the mammoth task of moving his body to lay behind you. Just as you start listening for sounds of snoozing his nose feathers across your back, then he kisses the same place and unclasps his hands. Propping himself on the elbow, he puts his head against your arm and moves his hand over your stomach. 

"Do you think you'd like it if I…"

You feel silly not understanding what he means, especially if he's embarrassed to say the words, but you can't do anything other than wait for him. He huffs, bites his bottom lip and rolls you onto your back.

"If I…touched you…" Seeing the perplexion in your face he quickly wants to reassure you "We don't have to, it's okay. If you don't like-"

"No, it's not…" Truth is, in your limited experience with men, none of them ever did or asked to do something like it, so you don't know what it would be like if someone else did it. But you feel like you want him to. "I, um…"

The words wedge in your throat, but he understands you perfectly by the touch on his arm. Placing a dollop of saliva on two fingers, he lets them disappear under the sheet.

"Ah-h…"

You can't help catching your breath when you feel his fingertips run softly over your clit. Slowly lowering his face, he envelops your lips with his, pushing them in sync with his delicate movements. Up and down he caresses, then gathers some more liquid from below and rubs his fingers quickly from side to side.

Turning into the pillow, Baekhyun's face hovers over your side with anticipation so strong it's felt in his breath against your cheek. The whirr intensifies, coming up to the surface, your backside and thighs go tense, you press your hand on mattress, open your mouth…and just then the dam bursts, spilling over electric magic between your legs, inside you, while you shake and try to smother your whines. 

Baekhyun groans mutedly and repeatedly places kisses on the side of your face as he draws big circles with the new fluids.

You find him sitting on the patio, watching the sun between clouds in pinks and lilacs. There's not a sound except the grasshoppers so you almost don't want to go out for fear of disturbing this picture. The patio flooring is damp under your feet and only a tiny squeak here and there is heard, save from the swish of the blanket you've wrapped yourself in. Looking your way, he takes a deep breath and opens his arms for you.

“Hi there.”

“Can I ask you…”, you say, playing with his hair. “Why did you look so sad right before you kissed me? Surely you already knew?”

“But I didn't know. I thought. Suspected. So I thought, if I'm wrong and you turn me away, this might be the last time I see you.”

“But you're happy now. Right?”

“Mm. All I want is you and me.”

Looking at the sun you can tell what time it is, so you sigh.

“I think we have to get going…”

Finding his way under the blanket, his hands gently caress your waist, breast. Cupping your face, he presses his lips onto yours. 

“Once more before I take you..?”

●

[lesbianrobin]

hey guys want to help me write?

i started writing this awhile back and now i'm revisiting and i cannot recall Where i was going with this. SO!! it could be fun if you guys let me know what you would like to happen/where you see this going!!

Steve Harrington’s been different ever since he came back.

No shit, idiot, Eddie berates himself, pretending not to stare at Harrington from across the library. Not that Harrington would notice. It’s other people he’s worried about. Staring at Steve Harrington is a popular pastime at Hawkins High now, popular enough that Eddie can’t allow himself to be caught partaking.

The story goes like this:

Julia Davis was sitting in the emergency room at Hawkins Memorial waiting for her brother to get a cast on his arm after he fell off his bike. It was taking a long time, and she hates hospitals, so she decided to take a walk outside around the parking lot just for something to do. Here’s where Eddie knows the story’s at least a little bit bullshit; Julia Davis buys from him every week, and he’d bet anything that she was smoking in the parking lot for a bit of stress relief.

The rest is as follows: She heard sirens right as she was about to go back inside. It wasn’t an ambulance, it was a cop car, so she decided to watch what was going on. Eddie personally suspects that she was keeping an eye out because she smelled like pot. Either way, she watched as a cop pulled Will Byers’ limp form out of the backseat. Will’s mom climbed out from the passenger seat, and instead of immediately following after her son, she opened the other back door to the car, and the whole world shifted.

What she saw has changed a little bit over time. It’s different depending on who you ask, whether anybody on the basketball team is within earshot, or if Tommy Hagan is anywhere near you. If Tommy Hagan’s around, she didn’t see shit.

If Hagan’s fucked off, though, if you aren’t around the basketball team? Harrington’s hands were caked in dried blood. Maybe it was mud, Julia always hedged, but it just… looked like something else. Whatever it was, it ran down his chin, too, stains dripping from his lips all the way to his bare chest. She could see some awful scrapes and bruises down each arm, angry red slashes criss-crossing his back and his pecs, and his sweatpants seemed to be drenched in mud or blood or something awful that stained his bare feet as well.

Joyce Byers guided him out of the car at arm’s length, like he was a wild animal that could lash out at any moment. His eyes were wide and unfocused. Julia swears he never shivered, despite his state of undress and the freezing wind that had swept through Hawkins that night. He shuffled to the ER like a zombie taking its first brainless steps.

The next day, it was on the morning news. Missing boys found wandering through the woods, escaped from their captor and fleeing for their lives. The news didn’t say much about the kidnapper. A few days later, it was reported that the creep had died from injuries sustained during the boys’ escape.

Translation: Steve Harrington killed a man. With his bare hands and teeth, if Julia Davis isn’t bullshitting them.

Eddie’s been watching the scars fade. All of the scrapes on Steve’s arms are either gone now or covered by the sleeve of his striped polo. He buttons them all the way up now, but the guys in his gym class say that his chest is back to normal. His nails aren’t ragged and torn anymore. Technically, he looks fine. Perfect. All-American.

But then there are the eyes.

There’s something about his gaze that draws Eddie in. His eyes are beautiful, of course, the kind of brown that brings to mind mossy logs and golden sunsets in equal measure, just depending on how they catch the light. Eddie didn’t make a habit of gazing into Steve Harrington’s eyes before the change, but he still remembers seeing life behind them. How could he not? Steve used to draw attention everywhere he went. No wonder he got snatched. It’s always those types, isn’t it?

Eddie might be a bad person. Just a little bit.

The point is that those eyes don’t have life behind them now. They’re just empty. Dull and sad, like Steve’s soul has floated off, or else been so weighed down that it can no longer move. Drained, like Frodo after delivering the ring to Mount Doom.

It’s obvious that Steve doesn’t belong in the Shire anymore.

Whenever Eddie isn’t occupying himself with D&D or homework or the band or his business, his mind drifts back to Steve Harrington. What did he see? What did he do? How did that blood look dripping down his chin, was it like a movie vampire or like a Carrie situation, and did Steve lick it from his lips in the back of the cop car? Maybe Eddie really is as sick in the head as people say. He needs to know. Did Steve kill that man with his teeth?

It isn’t any of his business, except that people don’t seem to be as afraid of Eddie as they used to be. More girls are coming straight to him instead of sending their boyfriends to buy their shit for them. Maybe they aren’t any less afraid of Eddie. Maybe they’re just more afraid of their boyfriends. When you skulk around high school parties for a living, you hear stories. According to several sources, Steve Harrington keeps a knife in his pocket and an extra in his backpack. According to Eddie’s own eyes in addition to his sources, Steve Harrington’s girlfriend showed up to school with a bandage on her hand the day after he came back.

Eddie doesn’t personally think that those two things are related. Harrington was definitely in the hospital for at least a few days, and they only give you the shitty plastic knives in there. She was probably just cooking or curling her hair or something when she found out that her disappeared boyfriend had come back.

Steve doesn’t seem to be reading his book. Eddie can’t tell what it is from this distance, but it looks more like a textbook than a novel. The cover is red. Which of Eddie’s textbooks are red? That one for Lit was red, right?

The book snaps shut. Eddie looks up.

Empty eyes stare back.

[constantineshots]

as someone wit cancer (posting this anonymously because some ppl on the internet hear this and go fucking crazy) I’ve always found John Constantine is actually a really interesting rep In theory. I do think Delano like most things fumbles the bag when it comes to that topic but… it’s Delano what do you expect. I really like timelines where John gets treatment before it’s terminal (though usually that very idea seems out of character) or something it’s such a comfort hc. sorry for rambling. I was wondering how YOU interpreted johns cancer storylines as the John Constantine guy.

hey, you’re safe here, do what’s best for you! and I wish you the best. and never apologize for rambling! i love rambling. please keep rambling.

i’ll put this under a read more because i realized how long this is, but i hope it helps answer your question!

but as the john constantine girlie, it’s always been such an incredibly interesting plotline to me. he does take drastic measures to cure himself in the main vertigo timeline, and his interactions with other cancer patients and then realizing that this thing is terminal… it was intriguing. because it’s john. how he handles things is so much different than how others will. you’re never going to get the logical answer- “maybe he’ll get treatment.” “maybe he’ll go find healing magics that could help him.” “maybe he’ll go spend more time with his loved ones.” this is how most people would think to act. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have cancer, but if it were me, i feel like i’d be angry to be living on a timer, so i’d probably check a few things off my bucket list out of spite. not john constantine, though. instead he threatens a war in hell over his soul so everyone has to cure him.

john smokes cigarettes. we all know this to be a fact. however, he ends up getting terminal lung cancer as a result. it shows a very possible risk that most people aren’t willing to acknowledge until it’s too late.

i haven’t spoken to my mother in forever because our relationship was never good ( can’t you see why i like john constantine now? ), but in a way, it reminded me of her. she was a heavy smoker, and i, as a child who sometimes went over to her house begrudgingly, would be caught up in second hand smoke. as a result, these sorts of things were big worries of mine, and yet every time i told her she can’t do things like smoke inside the house and such, she’d just do it anyway. which put everyone at risk.

while, of course, cancer isn’t always caused by smoking, it can be, and she never took it seriously, not even when she was coughing badly and it was clearly dangerous for her health anyway. I don’t think she ever will.

within john’s character, though, we know he clearly didn’t care much. of course, he didn’t want to die because he knew he was going straight to hell at the time. so he concocted his little plan and ended up curing himself of cancer and not dying as a result… and then continuing with the bad habit. he’s a comic book character, so i guess it’s different, but i think it kind of sent the wrong message.

after a tale of john being distressed about having cancer and having to say goodbye to the people he cared about, or john meeting others who had cancer and being affected by the loss of someone who had died as a result of it, i think some expected him to put down the cigarettes. but alas, john has never been the kind of person to make good decisions.

so when i see him doing the smart thing in some storylines or aus that people write and so forth, i’m always stunned. like good on him, of course, handling his shit before it gets worse, but john has always liked to be a pain in the ass and wait until the worst possible moment. like the exact day he’s supposed to die for example. though i do enjoy these more, because it sends the right message…. john isn’t the kind of character you look to to give you the right message in most aspects. his political beliefs are good, but everything else is a dumpster fire.

but in my opinion, john constantine is a character- one of a rare few- who has cancer. there’s a described time of his struggles with it, some depression from it, the loss of someone he’d met who had it, and that was a journey. but then, in true john constantine fashion, the cornered rat idea he has, he cures himself of it- or, well, more forces some other beings to cure him of it, but hey.

that’s all i got, but feel free to explain further on anything you want to!

[loopspoop]

Chapter 4 here we are! Fujiko is back and everyone’s trying (and failing) to cope! Lots of hurt and comfort in this one but they’re working hard to handle things!

TW: panic attack

Fujiko opened the door, frowning as she looked around. There was a blanket on the ground and the coffee table was moved across the room. Where the hell were the boys? Had they gone upstairs to use an actual bed? Hopefully so..Lupin wouldn’t recover well on just a couch. She walked inside, shutting and locking the door behind her as she looked around.

“Hello? Jigen? Goemon?” She called, walking to the stairs as she began to go up.

Zenigata peered over the railing, smiling as he relaxed a bit. “Fujiko, we’re up here.” He had worried it was an intruder.

“Zenigata-?” Fujiko hesitated. “When did you get here-?” She thought he wouldn’t be able to find them…

“Oh, uh…I’ve been here the whole time actually…you have the medication for Lupin, right?” Zenigata rubbed his nape sheepishly, glancing away.

Fujiko nodded a bit, climbing the stairs the rest of the way. The whole time? So, he was already here and they just didn’t know? That was a little creepy. Where had he been hiding at? And where were Jigen and Goemon? Had he arrested them? She wouldn’t be happy if he had arrested them.

“Where is everyone?” Fujiko looked past Zenigata, frowning.

“Ah..we had some trouble while you were gone. Jigen and Goemon are keeping an eye on him in the bedroom but we really do need to give him some medication.” Zenigata frowned, leading her to the bedroom.

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Fujiko frowned, looking into the bedroom quietly.

Lupin laid in the bed, still unconscious. Jigen sat on the ground beside the bed, smoking silently as he tapped his foot. That was an obvious sign he was anxious. She had picked that up early on, whenever he was on edge he fell into the tapping habit. Goemon sat at the foot of the bed, watching Lupin closely as he held onto Zantetsuken. She could see him rubbing the handle with his thumb, another anxious habit she had learned about from her years with them. Whatever had happened must’ve been bad…but Lupin was still breathing, that much she could see.

“Took you long enough.” Jigen mumbled, glancing at her from under his hat.

Fujiko frowned a bit, walking in as she unpacked the bottles. “You try seducing a pharmacist.” She grumbled angrily.

Jigen scoffed. “Took you less time to seduce Lupin every time you show up wanting a cut of our loot. You decided to take your sweet time while he’s here dying on us!”

“Nobody is dying.” Goemon looked at Jigen sternly, holding Zantetsuken tighter. He wouldn’t let Lupin die.

“Guys-“ Zenigata frowned, looking between them all anxiously. This wasn’t the time to fight.

“Oh, easy for you to say, Goemon. You took two weeks to get your ass to the lab to get him out!” Jigen glared at him, standing. “You took two weeks and Fujiko took two hours! And Lupin’s laying here suffering because of it!”

Fujiko narrowed her eyes. “You have no right, Jigen! I didn’t see you get out of that cell before Goemon showed up and I sure as hell didn’t see you busting your ass to get medication for Lupin!”

“Yeah because flaunting your tits is busting your ass!” Jigen rolled his eyes, glaring at them. “It’s like you two don’t even care what happens to him!”

“That is not true!” Goemon’s stood, glaring at Jigen as his hands shook. “Don’t talk to Fujiko that way!”

“This isn’t fair, Jigen! You aren’t blameless here!” Fujiko huffed, poking her finger into his chest angrily.

“Guys, hey-“ Zenigata frowned, trying to get in between them to stop the fighting.

“I am!” He wasn’t…god he wasn’t blameless but blaming them felt better than blaming himself. “It should’ve been one of you!” He growled angrily. “One of you should be in this bed! Not Lupin!”

“Jigen! Enough!” Zenigata got between all of them, glaring. “That’s enough.”

Goemon narrowed his eyes, turning as he stormed out. He couldn’t handle Jigen right now. He couldn’t handle thinking that everything he had said was true. He could’ve done more. He could’ve gotten there sooner or given Lupin better medical care. Instead, he waited two weeks and put Lupin through hell. It should be him in that bed. Lupin did not deserve this.

Fujiko glared, pushing the medications into Jigen’s arms roughly. “You fucking take care of it then, Jigen.” She growled. “And don’t come crawling to any of us when you manage to fuck it up.”

She turned, walking out and downstairs. She didn’t need Jigen to remind her of what had happened. She didn’t need him to remind her of any of the horrors Lupin must’ve faced in that lab and that it was her fault too for getting caught so easily. But Jigen wasn’t blameless either. It pissed her off that he thought he could get out of this blame free. If he thought he was so great then he could handle Lupin by himself!

Zenigata turned to Jigen, frowning. “What the hell was that?” He crossed his arms.

Jigen turned away from him, looking through the bottles quietly. “Forget about it, Pops.”

“No, I will not forget about it!” Zenigata grabbed his arm, turning him around so they faced each other. “I’ve never heard you talk to them like that. What the hell is the matter with you?”

“Leave it alone.” Jigen growled, looking away. He didn’t need this..

“No. I get this is stressful but you don’t get to blame everyone but yourself-“

“I do blame myself, damnit!” Jigen snapped, looking up at Zenigata angrily. “I blame myself for this shit! I sat in that cell for two fucking weeks and didn’t help him!”

Zenigata hesitated, letting Jigen go. He knew that, since Jigen had finally snapped, he had better just listen. He knew the man was usually pretty closed off. No doubt this had been building for a while..

“I got myself caught and Lupin was right down the hall for two damn weeks getting dissected and tortured! And I didn’t help him!” Jigen shouted, slamming the bottles down on the bedside table angrily.

“I couldn’t get out of that damn cell! And when we finally did I couldn’t kill the bastard! Goemon did! And Fujiko got the car and the medication! And Goemon- Goemon treated him!” Jigen clenched his fists, his voice cracking as he looked down at Lupin.

“And when he had his seizure..that was you, Pops. I’ve done nothing for him…what type of partner am I if I can’t do anything for him…?” Jigen pulled his hat down further, trying to hide the emotions that were getting the better of him. “..It should be me in that bed…not Lupin..”

Zenigata frowned, hesitating before he put a hand on Jigen’s shoulder. “You got him out of there. It might not have been all by yourself but you got him out of there. And you’ve been taking care of him the best you could. And I would say…I would say that Lupin would be pretty damn grateful if he was awake right now.”

Jigen bit his lip hard, tears beginning to trail down his face as he sunk onto his knees beside the bed. He had been so worked up…and he said pretty shitty stuff to Goemon and Fujiko when they were hurting too. He had really fucked up. What would Lupin think of him if he had been awake for that? Zenigata sat on the ground beside him, wrapping an arm around him quietly. He had dealt with a fair amount of this with his time on the force. Jigen just needed some time..

“…I love him.” Jigen mumbled softly, shaking his head. “I love all of them..and I fucked up…I fucked everything up.”

Zenigata hesitated, frowning as he thought quietly. “I don’t think you did.”

Jigen glanced at him before glancing down. “I’m sure accusing them of failing Lupin doesn’t win me any points..”

“Maybe not. But they’re in the same boat you are right now. They’re worried about him. And I’m sure if you went and apologized and let them have a moment to feel how stressed they are…it might work out.” Zenigata squeezed him, smiling a little.

Jigen thought quietly for a moment, laughing a little. “When did you get good at being sappy, old man?”

“Hey, I was married once!” Zenigata rolled his eyes, shoving him gently. “Communicating is important..even when things get hard. Now go sort things out. I’ll give Lupin his medication.”

Jigen wiped at his eyes, nodding as he stood. “Thanks.” He looked out at Zenigata from under his hat, smiling a little.

Zenigata nodded, standing as he smiled back and began to look the medication bottles over. He knew the gang weren’t all bad..they just made some bad choices sometimes. They were still human..it was part of what charmed him so much about them. Jigen walked downstairs, biting the inside of his cheek as he looked around. Fujiko was laying on the couch, watching the TV silently. Jigen took a breath, walking down stairs the rest of the way. He would have to settle things, even if they were so mad they wouldn’t talk to him.

“..Fujiko.” Jigen walked into her line of sight. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“Are you actually sorry or did Zenigata just tear you a new one and make you come apologize?” Fujiko glared at him, sitting up. “You were such an asshole, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you to leave.”

“He probably should’ve.” He sighed, sitting beside her. “I’m actually sorry. I know we don’t always see eye to eye and I can be a bastard-“

“Can be? You are.” Fujiko huffed, glancing at him angrily.

“Fair.” Jigen laughed a little. “All of this just…put me over the edge and I took it out of you and Goe and I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry. You didn’t take too long. Without you we would’ve been screwed. I’m sorry I said all of that to you.”

Fujiko bit her lip, glancing at him quietly for a moment. “…what happened while I was gone, Jigen?”

Jigen sighed, rubbing his face quietly as he looked over at the blanket on the ground. He could still see Lupin there, shaking, not breathing. The sound he had made when he stopped breathing..it was something he would never forget. He hadn’t been the only one to see it or the only one to deal with the fallout..Fujiko didn’t even know the worst of it.

“Jigen.” Fujiko took his hand, frowning. “Tell me what happened.”

“He had a seizure. Right here, he just..stopped breathing and..” Jigen sighed, playing with Fujiko’s fingers gently. “His fever from the infections got too high…and I thought…I thought he was dying..Pop’s was the only one who knew what to do about it..”

Fujiko eyes widened as she held onto Jigen a bit tighter. All that had happened while she was gone…? No wonder he had snapped at her for taking too long..she probably would’ve done the same thing after seeing something like that. She wouldn’t tolerate his behavior…but she could forgive it. He was sorry, that much was very clear. Obviously the events with Lupin had taken their toll on Jigen…and most likely Goemon too. It was all she could do to keep from imagining Lupin in pain like that. It made her feel sick…poor Lupin.

“I forgive you. But next time just..talk to someone? Don’t accuse us of not caring. We all care about Lupin.” Fujiko looked at him sternly.

Jigen nodded. “That’s fair. I’ll work on it.” He wouldn’t take it out on them again.

Fujiko smiled softly. “Good. Now I’m going to shower the two weeks of cell dirt out of my hair. Go make up with Goemon.” She pulled his beard lightly before she stood.

Jigen rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah..” hopefully it would go well with Goemon..

“And, Jigen?” Fujiko walked to the stairs, smiling softly.

“Hm?” Jigen turned toward her, raising an eyebrow.

“Lupin is oblivious at the best of times.” Fujiko winked, waving as she walked upstairs. “Just remember that.”

Jigen hesitated, blushing. What the hell-? Was he that obvious? Damnit…he would deal with that after he talked to Goemon. At least she wasn’t being a bitch about it... He shook his head, looking around as he rubbed his nape. Jigen checked the rest of the downstairs over, frowning when he found no trace of the samurai. He walked to the back door when he heard the sound of Zantetsuken cutting through something, opening it as he peered outside curiously.

Goemon held Zantetsuken tightly, striking at nearby trees angrily. How dare Jigen accuse him of not caring for Lupin?! He cared for him! Of course he cared for him! He paced angrily, hands shaking enough to make his slices crooked. His chest felt heavy. He had failed Lupin more than once but..this was continuous failure. Lupin could have died because he had taken too long…he had not treated him well enough. Goemon bit his lip, stabbing Zantetsuken into a tree as he leaned against it. He felt like he was drowning, his hands shaking as he panted. Maybe this was deserved…

“Goemon.” Jigen walked over, frowning as he watched. He was definitely worked up..

Goemon glanced at Jigen, body trembling as he gripped Zantetsuken’s handle tightly. Lupin could’ve died..and Jigen was right to tell him it was his fault because it was. Of course it was. Jigen and Fujiko couldn’t get out of that cell. It was all his fault for taking so long. He sank to the ground, vision blurring as he clenched his fists. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t do anything right!

“Shit-” Jigen frowned, carefully stepping closer. “Goemon.” He crouched beside him.

Goemon curled in on himself, gasping as he teared up. He cared for Lupin…he would’ve given his life to take Lupin’s place! Jigen was right..he had failed and continued to fail. Whatever this was, it was karma for letting this happen to Lupin..

“Goemon. Goe, breathe.” Jigen grabbed his hand carefully.

Goemon flinched away, his hands shaking harder as he looked at Jigen. His chest ached and it was hard to breathe. Tears streamed down his face, his hands gripping his hair roughly. Maybe he would die and fail again by making more work for everyone. It certainly felt like he was dying. Jigen frowned, carefully wrapping his arms around Goemon as he held him tightly. He could feel how tense he was..how much he was trying to breathe properly. He never meant to make the poor guy have a panic attack over Lupin’s condition..Goemon closed his eyes tightly, hyperventilating as he tried to breathe properly. Tears continued to stream down his face as he tried to relax into Jigen. It was his fault this had happened…he should’ve been better.. what Lupin must’ve thought of him had he been awake…he felt nothing but shame over his actions..

“Just breathe, Goe. Breathe with me. In and out. It’ll pass.” Jigen pressed a hand to Goemon’s chest gently, breathing with him.

Goemon bit his lip, shakily breathing with Jigen. He gripped Jigen’s arm anxiousky, the shaking his his hands dying down a bit after a minute. His chest still ached..but breathing came a bit easier as he focused on the pressure Jigen applied to his body and the sound of him breathing. Even thought he detested his and Lupin’s smoking habit, the cigarette smell was calming and familiar and helped ground him. This was so embarrassing..he was a samurai..he was supposed to be strong. This was not strong. He was being childish in front of Jigen of all people..

“That’s it.” Jigen nodded, squeezing him carefully. “Just take it easy. Everything’s okay.” He felt awful for causing this to happen…

“Jigen..” Goemon mumbled, resting his head back against his shoulder as he looked down. This was embarrassing..Nobody should’ve seen him like this…

“I’m right here, don’t worry. It’s just a panic attack, it’ll pass.” Jigen frowned, gently taking Goemon’s hand. “I shouldn’t have blamed you for anything, Goe. I took my stress out on you and Fujiko and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. You did everything you could’ve and I know Lupin would’ve appreciated the hell out of you if he was awake.”

Goemon closed his eyes tightly, more tears streaming down his face as he held onto his hand tightly. “I-I would’ve given my life for Lupin..I failed him…”

Jigen shook his head, holding his hand gently. “Lupin wouldn’t want that, Goe. You know he wouldn’t want that. You didn’t fail anybody. You did so much..do you think I would’ve thought of that thing with the sugar? Hell no. You took great care of him and you killed that bastard that did this to him. When he wakes up he’s going to be so grateful..I’m grateful for you too, Goe. We all are.”

Goemon hesitated before squeezing Jigen’s hand. “..I care for all of you…very much..” he mumbled softly.

Jigen blushed a bit, nodding softly. “We care for you too, Goe…” he glanced away, biting his lip. “Me especially..”

Goemon blushed a bit, glancing at him as he nodded little. “..thank you..for assisting me..”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks.” Jigen shrugged a bit. “You’ll probably feel like shit for a while, just a heads up. We can go inside and rest for a bit, that’ll help.”

Goemon bit the inside of his cheek. “What about Lupin?” He glanced back at him anxiously.

“Pop’s watching him. He’s gotten his medication too, so he’ll be alright.” Jigen nodded, helping him stand as he held onto his hand. “Since we’re all here we can rest and take shifts watching Lupin, okay?”

Goemon nodded a bit, pulling Zantetsuken out of the tree as he held onto Jigen’s hand. “..okay.”

Jigen nodded, walking back to the house with Goemon. He knew he was tired, he could see it in how he walked. He knew that was from all the stress and the panic attack. They’d just have to get a little TLC while Lupin recovered..once he woke up it would be a lot easier.. he squeezed Goemon’s hand, the samurai squeezing back as they made their way inside.

“We’ll get some water and then once Fujiko finishes taking her shower you can have one. That’ll help. For now we can just sit on the couch, okay?” Jigen helped him inside, sitting Goemon on the couch while he got him some water.

Goemon nodded, looking down at the floor quietly. They was definitely embarrassing..and he didn’t need to be babied by Jigen for having an outburst…though, it felt nice to be taken care of.. It was reassuring to know that Jigen had been in this situation as well..it made it feel less embarrassing. He just didn’t want to make anyone worry for two people when they had Lupin to worry about.. Jigen walked back in, handing him the water as he sat beside him. Goemon drank some, putting the water down nearby as he laid back against the couch. His eyes ached..his head ached..his body was tired..he hadn’t had a panic attack before..they were definitely something he would have to train against.

“Come here.” Jigen frowned, pulling Goemon up against his chest as he laid back.

“Hm?” Goemon opened an eye, looking up at him as he blushed a bit.

“I’m figuring you’re sore. Just take it easy.” Jigen gently ran his hands through Goemon’s hair, massaging his scalp carefully to help him relax.

Goemon blushed more, hesitating slightly before relaxing against Jigen slowly. It…felt nice. It was hard to let himself relax knowing Lupin wasn’t well off..but if Lupin had more people to watch over him…maybe it was okay? Jigen told him it was…he would trust him..he wanted nothing more than for things to be alright again..

Fujiko watched from the stairs, smiling softly as she dried her hair with a towel. She was glad they had sorted that out. They were cute together when they weren’t at each other’s throats..now they just needed Lupin to wake up and things would start to be okay again. She would go over the notebooks Goemon had brought back and they could figure out what to do for Lupin. They would put him back together and find ways to cope with this…she would make Jigen confess to him too. She wanted things to go back to some type of normal again.

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Get wasted on me

Eddie Munson x Female Reader 

This is the first time I’m doing anything smutty so please be considerate of that lol 

Summary: Y/N is trying to stop smoking and Eddie, being the amazing boyfriend he that he can be, is willing to help at any cost. 😉

“Stop that” Eddie snatched Y/N’s hand from her mouth, now with her hand being held, she can’t pick at her lip anymore so she starts to chew on her lip instead. “Babe seriously I love you but you’re driving me crazy, you’re going to make your lip bleed again and it just stopped bleeding like an hour ago.” Eddie pulls her bottom lip from between her teeth. “Besides if anyone is biting your lips it has to be me no expectations.” Oh god, now he’s looking smug. Y/N rolls her eyes before reminding him “If you were trying to stop smoking you would be fidgeting too and don’t even deny it” Eddie goes to counterclaim her point but backs down. She isn’t wrong. 

Their attention is drawn back to the movie that they were trying to watch when Eddie has an idea of how to help his girl. Not wanting to scare her off, even though that may be impossible at this point, he slowly starts to trace her bottom lip with his index finger, after a moment or two she opens her mouth lightly to allow him to push it into her mouth. A soft moan passes both of their lips.  Y/N slowly starts to suck on his finger while the movie continued to play and they both think that they solved the problem. And they did for a little bit. 

For the next week or so whenever Y/N began to get fidgety Eddie allowed her to grab his hand and nibble and suck on his fingers. No matter where they were Eddie just let it happen and Y/N was fine with some weird glance here and there if it meant they didn’t reach for a cigarette but even though it’s been helpful Y/N can tell she needs more. And honestly so does Eddie. It’s not his fault! Listen, he's just a young man, and his one weakness is his hot girlfriend softly sucking his fingers okay!? He’s just human and Y/N looked good with her mouth around something. 

Laying in bed Y/N was reading a new novel of hers while Eddie was painting new figures for the next campaign. Eddie happens to look over at Y/N just as she starts to pick at her lips. Scoffing he sets his paintbrush down and goes over to the mattress and just stands over her until she notices him. “Babe? Is everything okay?” Y/N was so wrapped up in her book that she didn’t even notice that her lip was bleeding from the picking. “No. Now listen to me. I am here for you. And I know you are struggling with this but it needs to stop you can’t keep making yourself bleed do you understand? Like that's so not okay.” Eddie is looking down at where she is now sitting up and his glare turned to his puppy dog eyes. “I just worry about you baby.” Y/N knew that Eddie cared about her but it was still nice to hear that he worries about her sometimes as she does for him. “The fingers were helping but it just isn’t anymore and I don’t know what else to do”. Y/N was getting desperate for a resolution she doesn’t think her lips will last much longer if she doesn’t figure something out. “Maybe I should just start smoking again..” “No way! NO you have been working way too hard to stop and I won’t let you pick that habit back up again.” Looking around to try and find a solution for his girlfriend Eddie has a realization. “And besides babe I have something else that we can always let you put your mouth on.” 

A blush forms against Y/N’s cheeks and spread down her neck, Eddie steps closer to the bed and Y/N sits up on her knees. Looking up at Eddie through her lashes while Eddie removes his belt and pulls down his pants leaving his boxers. Pulling Eddie closer to her by his boxers Y/N slowly pulls them down his legs before going back up to his thighs. Softly she begins to leave kisses on each thigh and works her way down. Eddie lets out a soft groan “Don’t tease baby” With a sly smile Y/N moves to get closer to where he wants her to be. She starts softly sucking on his tip while caressing his thighs, as more moans leave Eddie she moves further and further down his shaft and starts to suck on him like she would his fingers. Eddie gets louder with every inch that goes down her throat he doesn’t know how much more he’ll be able to take. Y/N starts to move back up and pulls off with a slight pop before kitty licking his tip. A soft moan leaves Y/N before she admits “I think this might be much more effective”

[sirensleepingsoundly]

Hellfire and Spitfire (pt.4)

CW: spoilers(duh), regular fluff, story addition, sexual content, angst, unrequited, enemies to lovers, only one bed (sort of), angry kissing, aggressive seggs, slapping, choking, hair pulling, blood, filth, hand/ring fetish, size kink.

Word Count: 2.1k

“Care for a little company Munson?”

You pushed your way past Eddie in the door. The tarp had been pushed aside off the boat, and it still swung a little, likely from Eddie getting out of it to investigate your current intrusion.

“To what do I owe the pleasure? Did you forget something or are you dropping off more shit that Dustin forgot?” Eddie leaned against the doorframe, now using the long oar in his hand to stabilize himself. You let out a small laugh at the sight, imagining him in gray robes with a long white beard and a pointed hat.

“What’s so funny?”

You just looked at him innocently. “Nothing. You sleep out here? This place kinda reeks.”

“Yeah well it’s the boathouse or the main house and, to be honest, I think you’ll find it smells worse in there.” He spoke from experience, apparently. He smiled a little at your reaction. “But seriously, what do you want, y/n.”

You looked away from him and shrugged. “I just thought you might be lonely in here. And there’s like six of us who aren’t on the run right now. They can spare me. I’m not helpful anyways. You still keep smokes in your jacket pocket?”

Eddie quirked a brow at you, not totally convinced. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his leather jacket, handed you one, and lit it for you before lighting one for himself. You took a long drag. It had actually been him that gave you your first cigarette. You had coughed and coughed and Eddie laughed so hard that he almost puked. Now he looked almost nervous that you were just sitting there, with him, in silence.

“Lovely weather we’re having isn’t it?” You tried to relieve some of the tension. You begin to wonder whether this was a good decision. Really all you wanted was to be away from Steve for a while.

“You haven’t spoken to me in years, and now you’re commenting on the weather.” He propped up the oar and crossed his arms, still leaning on the door, the cig burning between his ringed fingers.

“We’ve… talked.” You shrugged.

“Sure, if you count dropping Mike off at hellfire and then speeding off ‘talking’.”

“What do you want me to say Eddie? We grew up and apart.” You flicked some of the ash off of the end of your cigarette, hugging yourself for warmth.

“Uh-huh. Sure. If that’s what you want to call it.” He rolled his eyes and squatted down, using the wall to stay upright.

“What else would you call it? You started dealing and the Wheelers took me in. Those are pretty different life paths if you ask me.”

“No, I started selling to help Uncle Wayne pay bills, and you got adopted by some rich folks. Then suddenly, you forgot I existed. I tried to talk to you, but you snubbed me.” He finally took a drag of his own cigarette.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. The Wheelers weren’t a poor family. And Nancy helped you to better curate your taste in fashion, music, and other things. Being related to her now meant you had to fit their standard. So you changed a little. You dressed differently, and you talked differently. But you kept a few mannerisms and habits that being brought up broke just kind of imprinted into your brain.

“I did not snub you, Munson. If anything it was the other way around.” You watched as the smoke from your cigarettes mingled in the air above you. The way you remember it, once you got adopted, Eddie stopped talking to you first. You had been hurt, but you figured it was because you had started to fit in. And as much as you missed him, if he wasn’t going to accept you for what you are now, you didn’t need him.

“Whatever, princess.” He flicked the butt of his cig into the water under the boat. The nickname stung a little. You knew he was making fun of you.

“I’m gonna go see if the main house is livable. If I have to sleep out here in the cold again I’ll die of hypothermia.” He plucked up his walkie and stepped out of the door, letting it click shut softly. You only sat and listened as the crunch of gravel faded.

After half an hour of just sitting in the quiet, looking at the water, you decided to head inside to look for Eddie. Your cigarette had long burnt down to the butt, and you were growing increasingly bored. Maybe Rick had left some of his personal stash in the house somewhere.

You stepped out of the boathouse, noticing the sky turning to a pale pink and orange. After stepping inside the main house, you scrunched up your face in disgust. Eddie hadn’t been lying about the smell in here. The musty smell of stale weed and b.o. filled your nose.

“Eddie? You in here?” You heard loud footsteps coming down the stairs.

“So, apparently in the two stories of this lovely home, Rick has one singular bed. You can sleep up there tonight. It’s getting late and I don’t think pretty boy wants you walking anywhere around here at night.” You ignored his jab at Steve.

“No I’ll take the couch. You’ve been stuck out in that shed for days.”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman for once. I’m doing my best to be nice here.”

You let out a loud laugh, followed by a bunch of snorting. Eddie only frowned at you.

“Please. You, Edward Munson, a gentleman? The day that becomes the truth is the day I sprout wings. Just take the bed, Eds.” He refused to let you see how affected he was by you using your childhood nickname for him, looking at the wall instead.

“Whatever,” he threw his hands in the air. “Don’t come crawling to me when you’re freezing your ass off down here.” He stomped his way back up the stairs and you heard a door slam.

With the room suddenly very quiet, you decided to snoop around some. In the coffee table drawer you found two remotes, a bunch of old batteries, and a busted lighter. You sighed at the lack of entertaining objects to be found.

Eddie, the fucking prick, was right. You tried to sleep on the couch, you really did. But the absolute silence, huge dark rooms, and the biting cold you felt all kept you awake. You should’ve just listened to Eddie and taken the bed.

You stood up from the springy couch, hearing the old thing squeak as you pulled yourself up off. The floorboards creaked and moaned no matter where you stepped. You padded toward the kitchen hoping to find something interesting. The clock on the wall read 1:38. Just looking at the old clock gave you the heebie jeebies for some reason.

The kitchen cabinets were cluttered with things. Most of it expired. A few cans that were still good. You made the decision to not open the fridge, just for the sake of your nose.

You heard footsteps coming from upstairs, the ceiling groaning with the stress on the old wood. You heard Eddie’s voice from around the corner of the doorway.

“The fuck are you doin’? Can hear the floorboards through the whole goddamned house.” Eddie groaned. He was only wearing his jeans, no shirt. His socks were dirty, a tiny hole by his left pinky toe.

You struggled looking at him. In the dim light you could see his lightly toned chest and abs, a few tattoos smattered across his chest and arms. His skin was smooth and pale, except for a dark trail of hair that disappeared into his blue checkered boxers. He wasn’t exactly buff or anything, but Eddie Munson was hot. You looked away before he could notice you staring.

“Just a little bored. Don’t suppose you know where Reefer Rick keeps his personal supply, do you?” You peeked up at him again. He was rubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm. His hair was a mess, unruly curls sticking up in random spots.

“Nah, Rick didn’t let me in on the secret. That shit’s like his treasure horde. Heard he got his stuff from California. Strain called ‘Purple Palm Tree Delight’.” He leaned on the counter with his elbows, reminding you much of how you and Steve were talking just yesterday. Only Eddie was obviously not Steve.

“How’s the bed?” You picked at the skin around your nails, just asking questions to fill the silence.

“It’s fine. How’s the couch?” He looked at you from under long eyelashes, and something fluttered in your tummy.

“It’s fine.” You answered a little too quickly. Eddie noticed.

“Look, just- just take the bed please.”

“No. No, you’ve been through a lot lately and I can’t let you sleep on this couch. I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine.” You crossed your arms and sat against the counter. Eddie stared at you for a minute. You found yourself unable to look him in the eyes.

“Okay then just share with me.” He shrugged, like he didn’t just nonchalantly suggest that the two of you sleep in the same bed.

It wasn’t like you’d never shared a bed with Eddie before. When you were kids, Eddie and Wayne let you stay in their trailer often. Usually you slept over on nights when your birth mother stayed out all night. It had become normal for you to wake up cuddling with Eddie, or to him attempting to cook breakfast. Everything always came out burnt, but you always ate it anyways.

“Share?”

“Yeah. That way you can sleep in the bed and I won’t feel so bad about you being down here by yourself.” He smiled at you, because clearly he’s just found the perfect solution to the issue.

You pretended to consider it for a moment, even putting your hand up to your face like you were thinking real hard.

“The offer is going once… twice…” He pulled his fingers up one at a time, making sure to count slowly.

“Okay, okay! Fine.“ You laughed. Eddie laughed. And you tried and failed to remember the last time the two of you had shared such a nice moment.

Each of you stood on one side of the old bed. The sheets looked like they had been changed. Probably by Eddie, despite his own lack of hygiene at home. There was a mess of pillows strewn about, so you grabbed two and put them in the center of the bed, creating a wall.

“Really, Wheeler? I’m not gonna like, try anything.” Eddie looked actually offended at the action.

“This is so you don’t hog the bed, Eds. Act like I don’t know how you like to sleep. I’ve personally been a victim of your space stealing.” You didn’t notice the way his breath hitched at the old nickname. The one you called him as a kid. Hearing it from your lips again for some reason made his heart beat fast and he couldn’t tell if he hated it or not.

“Whatever, just don’t steal all the covers then.” He smirked at you, bringing up sleepover crimes of your own. Eddie plopped himself down on the bed, laying on his stomach, one leg hanging off the side of the bed.

You took a moment to study his back, the way his muscles flexed and moved as he breathed. One of his arms was pulled up under the pillow, and a small smattering of bats were on display on his arm. You’d always thought it was a strange placement for the tattoo, but damn if it didn’t suit him.

What was wrong with you? Ogling Eddie like he was a biology class specimen. For a brief moment you wondered if Steve’s skin was as pretty and porcelain as Eddie’s.

It took a minute before he realized you hadn’t laid down yet.

“C’mon in, princess. The water’s fine.” His voice was muffled by the pillow.

Slowly you sat onto the bed and covered yourself. You laid on your side, facing away from him. You tried to drift to sleep but couldn’t. Eventually you turned to lay on your back, facing the ceiling, which had a very lewd poster of a nice looking young lady on it. You cringed and decided to look at the body in bed next to you instead. Eddie had fallen asleep. His breathing was even, but shallow. His hair was a wild mess over his face and shoulders. And you took notice of the lack of creases in his face now that he was asleep.

Listening to his light snores and your own heartbeat, you finally knocked out.

Slowly you sat onto the bed and covered yourself. You laid on your side, facing away from him. You tried to drift to sleep but couldn’t. Eventually you turned to lay on your back, facing the ceiling, which had a very lewd poster of a nice looking young lady on it. You cringed and decided to look at the body in bed next to you instead. Eddie had fallen asleep. His breathing was even, but shallow. His hair was a wild mess over his face and shoulders. And you took notice of the lack of creases in his face now that he was asleep.

Listening to his light snores and your own heartbeat, you finally knocked out.

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