#laughing out loud at these like a stupid child. what is my problem.

[pitchsidestories]

looks can be misleading II Beth Mead x Vivianne Miedema x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1928

a/n: the inspiration for this oneshot came from this adorable request here.

Playing for Arsenal had always been your dream, even as a little child. But now that you were actually here, at the Arsenal Training Centre, reality looked much different. You hated everything.

From the way the other players stared at you, taking in your tattooed arms when you were first introduced to team to the fact that they never seemed to shut up and kept yelling at each other.

As a person who liked it quiet and to keep to herself, it was all too much, too loud. Your social battery had been empty before the warm-up was even over.

So while your new teammates stayed on the training pitch, chatting away, you headed for the shower. Maybe if you were fast enough, you had a few quiet moments to yourself.

You could even be done before the others joined. You walked with quick, impatient steps towards the dressing room, missing the conversation right behind you.

“What do you guys think about the new girl?”, Leah asked the others, genuine curiosity in her voice.

Kim shrugged with a small smile: “I like that she doesn’t talk much.“

“Of course you do.“, Lia laughed, bumping her arm against the smaller midfielders.

“Hey!“, Kim protested.

Laura chimed in, the sweetest smile on her lips: “I like her. She’s so mysterious and her tattoos are cool.“

Katie eyed the young Austrian like she just said the most stupid thing she ever heard: “Nah, I think she’s a bit weird, ye know?”

“I think I agree. She didn’t even say hello when Jonas introduced her.“, Leah stated.

Beth who had been listening quietly, assured her teammates: “We’ll tell you how she’s with us at home.“

“Good luck with her.“, Manu grinned at her.“You know, I’ve gathered quite some experience with quiet, broody women.“ She inconspicuously nodded towards her girlfriend.

With a frown, Vivianne turned to her: “Wait, are you talking about me?”

“Who else would I be talking about, babe?”

Viv rolled her eyes with clear fondness for girlfriend: “Time to go home. Bye, guys.“

“Bye.“, their teammates echoed in unison. 

Beth and Vivianne were the ones that you would stay with until your own flat was ready to move in. If that meant days or weeks, who knew.

At least their apartment was close to the training centre and you had their guest room to yourself.

Sitting on your bed, you enjoyed being in your own company for a moment. A very short moment as you came to realize.

“Y/n? Do you want to come down and cook dinner with us?”, Beths called for you, her voice echoing from the walls and you wondered if the neighbours had heard her too.

You didn’t want to. But you also didn’t want to seem impolite so you joined them in their kitchen.

“I’m not great at cooking…“, you admitted.

“No problem, we can do this together.”, Beth assured you with an encouraging smile.

“Okay, sure.”, you shrugged.

“It’s easy.”, Viv added.

“Yes, you can start with cutting some veggies.”, her girlfriend advised you in an uplifting tone.

While you did as she said the Dutch woman cleared her throat nervously. “How did you like your first training session y/n?”

“Good.”, you answered monosyllabically as you focused on cutting the vegetables in front of you.

“And how do you like London? Do you have any family close by?”, Beth wanted to know curiously.

“I haven’t seen enough of the city yet to say if I like it and no, my family isn’t from here.”, you revealed. From the way you phrased your answer it was clear that you preferred to not talk about your familiar relations.  

“Oh.”, the blonde muttered surprised.

The rest of the cooking and dinner passed uneventfully. During the dinner Beth tried to get you to talk a little bit more, but that turned out to be unsuccessful.

“I’m going to bed, good night you two.”, you announced once you were done with eating.

“Good night, y/n. See you tomorrow.”, the English forward chirmed. She watched you leaving the kitchen with a loud sigh.

“She’s truly intimidating, Beth.”, Viv whispered when you were out of ear-sight. An amused twinkle was in her light eyes.

“Even you think so?”, Beth chuckled, resting the head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Reluctantly the Dutch player put an arm around the smaller woman. For a moment she paused before admitting thoughtfully. “No, I think what she really needs is time, it’s not easy to be the new girl in the team.”

“You would know, huh?”, the English forward gave her a teasing smile.

“Yes, I do actually.”, Viv acknowledged, pressing a soft kiss to her girlfriend’s blonde hairline.

In the past she had quite often confessed that the beginning of her Arsenal career was quite tough for her.

As a young foreign girl who already had made herself known in the national team the Dutch forward had to accustomed to a new country, different playing style and a fresh pressure which came with playing for such a big club.

“We’ll see.”, Beth answered hoping her girlfriend was right about you.

“Morning y/n.”, she greeted you warmly the next morning, next to her the young dog was already bouncing excitedly.

“Morning.”, you mumbled suppressing a yawn. It was clear for everyone that you were in desperate need of some caffeine.

“We’re taking Myle on a walk. Would you like to come with us? We can get coffee or something.”, the blonde offered smiling friendly.

“Uhm okay.”

“You don’t have to, obviously.”, Viv added quickly.

“No, I do.”, you smiled shily at them.

The couple seemed happy that you accepted their offer. You all shrugged on jackets and left for a stroll around the neighbourhood.

Beth and Viv walked slightly in front of you, politely giving you your own space while Beth kept talking and Vivianne just listened. You were perfectly fine just taking everything in and watching Myles’ floppy ears bounce with every step. You could feel a smile tug on the corner of your mouth.

When you reached the coffee shop, you offered to wait outside with Myle. Patiently, you sat at a table outside and rubbed your hands together. It was an unusually cold morning. Even the little dog at your feet seemed to shiver slightly in the cold air, despite the thick brown fur.

“Come here.“, you mumbled to yourself as you gently pulled Myle onto your lap, in hopes that your body warmth would help. She immediately curled up on your lap and let you pet her.

“Your puppy is really cute.“, you said softly as your two teammates reemerged from the coffee shop, steaming cups in their hands.

Beths’ face lit up as soon as she saw you two together: “Oh, looks like she likes you already.“

Myle lifted her head as if she was listening attentively.

You could feel your cheeks heating up: “She was getting cold so I warmed her…“

“That’s sweet of you. You like milk and sugar with your coffee, right?”, Beth smiled and pushed a cup of coffee towards you.

You gratefully reached for it, wrapping your hands around the warm drink. “I do. How did you get that?”

“I was hoping for the best. It was either that or black coffee.“, Beth laughed as she took the chair next to yours.

You sipped on your coffee and smiled: “Not bad.“

“Oh, so she can smile!”, Beth exclaimed happily.

You grimaced, slightly embarrassed.

"This is your and Myles' achievement, Beth.”, Vivianne told her girlfriend.

Beth laughed again and you had to admit, you could actually get used to that sound. “I think Myle deserved the majority of the credit.“

“She’s just so cute.“, you mumbled as you looked down at the puppy on your lap.

“Yes, she is.“, Beth agreed, her eyes wandering from Myle to your face.

There was something intense in her gaze and it made you immediately feel insecure, the blush creeping back into your cheeks, so you set the little dog down and got up from your seat, indicating that you would like to continue your walk. “Let’s go.“

Even though you were in London for almost a week now, you still preferred to run your laps away from others in training. You couldn’t focus on yourself when everyone kept talking. Besides, you didn’t care much for the gossip anyway that was so willingly shared during the warm-up.

As you ran by yourself, you didn���t hear any of the conversation Beth was having with her teammates on the other side of the pitch.

“Wait, are you serious, Beth? Are you still talking about her over here.“, Leah asked as she jogged alongside her teammate. She subtly nodded in your general direction.

“Leah! Of course I’m talking about her. She’s such a sweetheart once you get to know her.“

“One could think you’ve a crush on her, Beffy.”, Steph teased the friend grinning.

“I mean.”, the English forward run her free hand nervously through her blonde hair.

“Stephs not wrong here.”, Alessia commented with a cheeky smile.

“She’s kind of cute, don’t you think?”, Beth turned her head to look at her girlfriend, searching for the confirmation she needed.

“No, I do.”, Viv agreed.

“Well, this is going to be interesting.”, Kim remarked with a meaningful glance toward the couple.

The piece of their talk you did hear left you almost speechless.  “Wait, what?”, you interrupted them stunned.

“Oh, y/n.”, Beth sighed softly.

“I forgot my cleats I’ll be right back.”, you lied, you were desperate to get out of this uncomfortable situation as quick as possible.

“Shit.”, the Dutch forward cursed under her breath. There was a mutual understanding between Viv and her lover that didn’t need words, so they quietly followed you into the changing room.

“Y/n? If you feel more at ease not living at our home your place is ready.”, the younger of the two offered heavy heartedly.  

“Yeah, I’ll move out.”, you decided unable to look into their sad eyes.

“Sorry, for our teammates talk from earlier.”, Beth apologized biting her lip guiltily.

“Beth, Viv, stop.”, you demanded.

“We’ll leave.”, Viv nodded.

“No, I want to tell you something,. I like you two .. like a lot.”, you confessed it took all your bravery to say these words out loud.

You know your looks could be misleading, they made you appear tough: your muscles and tattoos were like your armour against a world which hasn’t always treated you with the kindness you and everyone really deserved.

But you were tired of being alone and the two women showed you a way to break out of the loneliness.

“We like you two.”, the Dutch woman assured you earnestly.

“Y/n, what are you trying to say?”, the blonde asked confused by the turn this discussion took.

“I don’t know what I’m trying to say, that’s the problem.”, you admitted.

“That’s okay.”, Beth replied.

“I guess thanks for everything. I’ll get my stuff later.”, you smiled sadly at them.

“Actually, Viv paused a second before continuing, you could stay with us.”

“Really? To be honest I’d like to stay at your home.”, you looked up surprised.

“Our home.”, Viv corrected you as Beth pulled you into a tight group hug.

“We got to keep her.”, the blonde hummed happily.

“Beth, I’m not Myle!”, you protested.

“No, but you’re just as cute.”, she answered giving you a kiss to your cheek which immediately turned red.

Despite the banter these two and the dog were the closet thing you had to call home.

[adventuringblind]

Joint Coping

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Angst

Dialouge: "Help me understand."

Summary: Max helps his partners learn to cope in healthy ways

Warnings: Selh-harm, unhealthy Coping, blood, Ferrari, Max being the sane one of the group

Notes: I would like to emphasize that this is a thing that does happen. I know because I've done it. This specifically is not something to be glorified at all. Self-harm done in groups can become competitive. This is a pretty toned down version of things I've experienced and it's less toxic. THIS IS NOT REACHING OUT. Just wanted to clarify :)

This is part of my 1000 follower celebration! Requests are still open if you'd like to participate (the link will take you to the request form).

Masterlist

Max knows something is wrong with his partners. It's like an itch in his brain he can't scratch. A sixth sense, if you will.

The two Ferrari drivers are struggling with their team. Every problem is their fault. They have become the Ferrari scapegoats. When they do poor, it's the driver. When they do good, it's the team and the car.

He's coming to the end of his patience. If he has to hear them self deprecate one more time he might actually consider making them stand in the mirror and say nice things about themselves. Can he fuck it out of them? Is that a possibility? He really doesn't know but is desperate and willing to try anything.

They both DNF at the next race. Max is a man on a mission through media and debrief. He needs to see that they are okay. At the very least not sitting through some kind of lecture a parent gives to a child.

He sprints to the Ferrari garage and runs into Carlos. Despite his injury that took him out of the season, he still comes to support his team and teammates.

"Carlos!" The Spainard spins around to face him. "Have you seen-?"

"They already left over an hour ago. Did they not text you?"

There are warning bells going off inside of his head. Something is clearly wrong and they aren't telling him about it. He's about to sprint away when Carlos stops him.

"Before you go, you should that there were some awful things said by their engineers and they looked really upset about it."

"Thanks Carlos."

Max is back at the hotel as fast as he can manage. He tried both their cells with no answer. It's killing him from the inside out with anxiety. He's probably just overthinking, but it'll feel better when he sees they are okay.

He keys the door open and doesn't bother taking off his shoes. The lights are off aside from the one in the bathroom. Maybe they decided a nice relaxing bath would do the trick. Max could also go for one. He pushes that thought aside for now.

He knocks gently on the door. "You two in there?" No response. Or at least - not one to him directly. There are a few hushed whispers, but nothing loud enough for him to hear.

He waits Aproximatley ten seconds before he can't handle it anymore and swings the door open. He expects to see fogged mirror and water on the floor. Instead he's met with the sight red wrists and thighs.

He's lost. Max Verstappen has no idea what to do.

They are stripped down to undergarments. Legs dangling over the side of tub. A switchblade in the hands of Charles. They both look teary eyed and doped out. Are they enjoying this?

God, he feels so stupid. Weeks of having Sex with no lights on, sweatshirts in hot weather, no swimming and doing private ice bathes away from trainers. He should've noticed. Max could've stopped this sooner. He wants to rewind and tell them to come to him instead of relying on this to get the through.

"Guess you caught us." Charles let's out a half assed laugh. "You gonna stare at us all night? Or can we get the yelling part over with? Last three partners left us when they caught it. I understand if it's to much. Not your burden."

Max had been a later addition. The two in the bathtub had been together since their teenage years. Had they been Coping like this for so long?

"Sorry about the mess. Relapses are hard. We made it all season until a month ago." She leans her head onto Charles' shoulder. How can they make this type of environment endearing? This is unreal and they need serious help. Which Max will eventually get them when he can get his act together.

He kneels on the floor in between them. Max is just now registering the tears on his cheeks. They'd been in pain for so long. It hurts him just thinking about it.

"I'm not going to yell-" he looks at one. "-I'm not going to leave-" he looks at the other. "But help me understand. I want to help."

"It's easier to do with someone else around. It's more therapeutic." The lopsided smile on the female's face is not helping Max. He has to many questions.

First, he gets them cleaned up. Neither of them flinch when he disenfects the wounds. They don't look at him as he wraps them in whatever gauz is in the first aid kit. They look ashamed as he puts the knife in his bag and rinses the tub.

The one that gets him, however, is the look of pure confusion when Max hugs them both so tightly. It's like they don't know how to respond.

They sit in a circle on the bed. It's comfortable and Max can see both their expressions clearly.

"I know the struggle." He starts. "Punishing yourself is better then someone else doing it, right? But I had Daniel there reminding me to reach out."

"It's just easier this way."

"Easier isn't better. Look at the state you're in. I'm not leaving, but I am getting the both of you help."

He followed through with this the next morning. Then looked supposed to see him when they woke up. He, and his childish mind, kissed all the cuts and scars. Every single one of them received proper treatment.

The female cried and thre her arms around Max. Charles had looked away in shame. The reasons they started this are still foreign to him, but that's not his priority.

He gets them help. All of them, mind you. They do group sessions as the three of them to find healthier ways to cope with each other.

Reasons seem to fade into the background because they don't matter as much. The important thing is that Max caught it in time. That he didn't lose them to their own minds. They are partners, and Max would be devistated to lost someone he loves to those dark places.

He rests easier now that the itch has been scratched. His partners are doing better. They smile and laugh at his stupid jokes again. A bit of confidence regained.

And Max reminds them daily that nothing is worth it if you have to destroy yourself for it. Drivers or not, he loves them regardless.

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

I'll Show You Just How Sad I Am

a raymond smith x reader quick little blurb, just 1k words

there's mentions of smut in this so read at your own risk <33 who knows, maybe raymond will make a more regular occurrence on my blog over the next few weeks

here's my masterlist in case you want to check out my other works

"Should be the door to your left, honey."

Your voice is sweet in his ear, a pleasant distraction from the run-down building Mickey had sent him off to. It's smelly and dirty and even though he knows he should most likely feel pity, he's still just as disgusted. He'd be with you in a heartbeat if he could, safe and clean in the comfort of your home.

"Mickey should've sent a cleaning lady", he grunts as he knocks at the door, your chuckle almost making up for the very truthful, thinly veiled anger behind his words.

"Mickey wanted you because you're the best", you recite - you've told him often enough by now that it really is reciting. "And because he trusts you to keep this clean."

Which is easier said than done.

Twenty minutes later, the whole thing's anything but clean.

Sure, he'd very much accomplished bringing Laura home - but he'd also left a dead teenager in a puddle of blood about two stories down from where he should've been sitting.

"Left, left!", you call into the mic. Even though you're far from panicking, you're still much too loud, your voice flowing from his earpiece and stinging his brain.

"I'm trying, darling", he grunts back, breathless and panting as he pushes on, one foot in front of the other on the pavement of some random South London streets.

"I know, I know", you sigh. He isn't sure whether he's actually hearing you chew on your lip or imagining it, but he doesn't really have the capacity to think too much about it at the moment. "He's right in front of you. You've got him, Ray."

Yeah... The only problem is that what you must be seeing as a moving, flashing dot on a digital map, he's seeing as a bunch of teenagers trying to look intimidating. Probably feeling intimidating too. God, this is exactly why he didn't want the job. He isn't made for the fucking low-classed youth.

"You've seen enough?", that bastard of a boy spits at him. "Now I've got backup."

Raymond steadies his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath in.

"You couldn't back up a phone, you cunt", he rasps, his erratic heartbeat slowly starting to calm back down.

"Raymond", you scold. "That's a child."

"That's a bastard", he mutters, before he finally straightens and tries his best at a somewhat mannered bargain. He's really only here for the fucking phone. He needs those pictures, then he's gone. He doesn't want to leave more unnecessary corpses to take care of.

So he offers them money. Which is something that they should definitely take, just judging by how they look. Plus a visit to a very good psychiatrist. But they don't. It's the same fucking bastard who's taken the pictures in the first case and got him into this mess that refuses - and in such a really stupid way, too: "How 'bout you give us that bag and be gone anyway?" - god, even you let out a choked up laugh at that, your breath carrying through the mic and into Ray's earpiece.

He drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head. What a fucking bunch of idiots. Goddamn it. He can feel his blood boil, hot and hotter.

"It's bait", you mutter, your voice low. "Calm down, love. You've got a machine gun. Use it."

Yeah, fucking hell, it's bait, he knows that. It doesn't change the way he's feeling. But your voice in his ear at least brings him back down to reality.

"Right", he grunts, then he swipes his coat to the side, closes his hand around the grip of the gun and steadies his fingertips against the trigger. He pulls it out in one swift motion, points it at the sky and shoots. For a good three seconds longer than necessary.

"Just like that", you breathe, your grin dripping down onto your voice and melting into his ear like honey. You've really got to stop that, he actually loses his focus for half a moment there and in his line of work, next time that means sure death.

The entire bunch of teenage boys flees - as expected - and in less than a minute, Raymond has the phone pressed into his palm.

"God, sometimes I really hate that I'm not there", you sigh, something in the background ruffling, probably as you shift into a more comfortable position on your chair. "Kinda wish I could've seen you."

"Run after a little cunt like that? You didn't miss anything, darling", he says, turning his head left and right before he strides back towards the car, his steps long and purposeful.

"Turn the corner here", you mutter, your voice taking on that specific tone that tells him there's a lazy grin licking at your lips. He can just imagine how you're looking (especially now that he has the time and freedom of mind for it) - one foot propped up on those bar stools that you'd bought for the kitchen, your equipment organised on the table top in front of you, his shirt hanging from your shoulders and pooling in your lap, your head tilted back and your eyes half-closed as you talk to him.

"I don't mean the little idiot", you go on, undeterred even as he narrowly avoids a trash can. Fuck, you really distract him too much. "I'm talking about you. God, you sounded so hot I wanted to jump at you. Actually scratch that, I still do."

He lets out a chuckle as he spots the car, his steps slowing. He should hurry up, he knows that. But he's got you in his ear, talking in that sweet voice of yours about just how much he affects you. He can't pass up on that.

"You're a little fuckin' minx, darling", he mutters with a grin, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check if there's any possibility he could be overheard. He doesn't necessarily feel like making your conversation public, even as you hum into the microphone.

"Yeah, but yours", you mumble. It sounds like you're almost proud of that. "Here's an idea, love: Get back home before I finish my shower and I'll show you just how sad I am that I couldn't watch you."

[benispunk]

One special name

Irondad & Spiderson

There's never enough irondad and spiderson content, and i love and miss them so much. Here's my improvised work from last night. Sorry for my mistakes if there's any!! xx

"Pepper is going to be so mad"

"I'm sure she'll understand, Mr.Stark. Right?"

Peter fidgets with his fingers, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. They were stuck in an elevator. Peter had followed Tony around all day, per Tony's request who just wanted to spend time with him during his very boring-full of meetings-tons of work-day.

This afternoon meeting happened to be outside of the Tower, in a building Tony or FRIDAY had no control over and which’s elevator, as they had seen, wasn't reliable. What was funny about this day was that Pepper had taken their phones so that Tony wouldn't be distracted.

"Stop treating me like a child!"

"Then stop acting like one." Pepper deadpanned earlier that day when Tony had refused to leave his penthouse.

He found the situation ironic, really. First, he doesn't want to go to work, then they take away his phone only to agree to Peter's presence who is almost 100% of the time the reason why Tony is always distracted, then they schedule meetings outside his workplace and life blocks him in an elevator. What a perfect a day.

"Why are you laughing?" Peter asked, clearly trying to ignore the signs of a panic attack. Tony seemed to realize that and forces Peter to sit down on the floor next to him.

"'Cause I didn't want to go to this meeting and even when I can't control it, life fulfills my biggest wishes". He watched as Peter huffed a laugh but didn’t seem to relax at all.

"Hey Pete, we're gonna be okay. And if there is a problem, need i remind you that you're Spider-Man and I believe to be Iron Man myself so..."

Peter chuckled this time, which made Tony smile in return.

"Right. It's just an elevator."

"Just an elevator. And it's pretty clean too, look at that." Tony pointed at the floor around them to distract Peter some more.

Suddenly, they felt the elevator move for an instant before it stopped again. The sound it made got Peter's ears to ring loudly. He immediately covered them with his hands and winced.

Tony instantly put his arms around Peter's shoulder to protect him. But the elevator didn't move again. They were definitely stuck now.

"It's okay, it stopped."

Peter slowly uncovered his ears and leaned against Tony's side.

"I'm sorry you have to be stuck with me" the teenager whispered, not quite enjoying the moment either.

Not only did he have to be stuck in an elevator, which is already one of the worst things that could happen to him, but Tony had to be there when he was totally freaking out over this stupid situation. Not forgetting the fact Tony was busy.

"Excuse me? That's probably going to be my favorite part of the day."

"I'm not joking, Mr.Stark. You shouldn’t be taking care of someone like me like that. And you're gonna be late."

Tony frowned.

"Okay, I think we're not on the same page right now." Peter felt Tony's perplexed stare on him. He decided to just brush it off and move away from Tony's embrace, already feeling embarrassed enough.

"Forget it, I'm sorry."

"You come back here, you're scared and I'm here for you, that's what it is." The man declared, scooting closer to Peter.

Tony waited for Peter's reaction but he didn't move. He was huddled up in the corner of the elevator. Tony sighed in defeat.

"One day you'll understand that you're as important to me as you make me feel in return."

"I don't think it's actually possible, Mr.Stark." Peter mumbled back, making Tony laugh out loud.

"Pff. Try me. You don't even call me by my name."

Peter lifted his head up with a gasp.

"Mr.Stark is your name."

"That's my old man's name. I'm Tony. Tones. Anthony for those I hate the most. Stark for the annoying ones."

"Yes, but you'll always be Mr.Stark for me." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Alright, Mr. Parker."

"No." Peter retorted, already knowing Tony was never going to stop.

"What did you say, Peter Benjamin Parker ?"

He had no idea how it could get worse than that.

"How dare you?"

"I'm not hearing you, Spider-Boy ."

Okay, now he knew.

"Tony, stop it please." The man in question raised his hands up in the air in triumph.

"That's my boy !" Peter chuckled and leaned back against Tony's side.

"I'm kidding, you know? You can call me however you want. Even the stupidest nicknames." Tony declared and looked up at him.

"Do you have stupid nicknames?" he asked.

"One time a guy called me Tony Stank."

Tony grinned when he heard Peter's loud laugh again. He doesn't think he can live without hearing his kid's laugh ever again.

Suddenly, the elevator started moving again, this time smootlhy and without any problems.

"Looks like we're going back up again."

They raised to their feet and waited for the doors to open to the meeting's floor.

"You'll wait in the corridor? It's pretty boring, i don't want you to endure these guys anyway." Tony said before the door opened and they were leaving the terrible elevator behind.

"Yeah, no problem"

Peter sat down on of the chairs and watched Tony approaching the meeting room, but before he could enter Peter stopped him,

"Oh and Mr-I mean, Tony?"

The man turned back around and nodded at him to go on.

"Even...Even Dad?" Peter's voice was shaking. Tony stood frozen in astonishment. He was not expecting this. But saying he hadn’t dream about it felt like a lie.

"Y-Yeah. Yeah that's a perfect name"

Peter grinned and Tony sent him a wink before finally entering the room.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

🌶️ nsfw HCs for jjk men 🥵 general sexy times~ what are they like in bed?

ooo, IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!!! TURN IT UPPPPP!!!

Now Presenting...

Starring Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, Kento Nanami, and Ryomen Sukuna.

Sugru Geto

Cigarettes and feelings keep me Laughing when everything is all fucked up

C O R R U P T I O N  K I N K  DO YOU HEAR ME?!

He sees himself as dirty and ruined and he needs to see that in you too. 

His loves how you look when you’re choking on his cock

He loves it so much he’s gonna take a picture! He’s big on recording you in your most vulnerable moments

Mirror on the ceiling so you can watch him fuck you stupid

I hope you have a degradation kink cause he's going to call you his stupid fucking whore

But hey! At least you’re his stupid fucking whore!

He needs to push your limits. He needs to see how far you’re willing to go for him, and what you're willing to do to get his praise.

Unlike in your daily life, his praise is rare in the bedroom. That’s what makes it so intoxicating when he finally does give it out. You’re still going to have to work for it though.

CONTROVERSIAL TAKE: he hates to be called daddy. Call him literally anything else, but the moment you say “Daddy” he’s over it

Now Sir on the other hand? Sir will always make him act up, use it strategically, lest you get pounded in a dirty bathroom.

He gives me the vibes of someone that would convince you to drop ex or acid then fuck him for a “religious experience.”

IDK maybe that's just me seeing the cult leader in him.

All of that being said, I also think Suguru has mastered the art of aftercare

During the act he’s a monster, but after? Nothing but praise and love. He’s worshiping your body while cleaning you up, cuddling with you for as long as you’ll let him. 

You need water? He’s getting it. You want a bath? Say no more he’s running it for you.

He never wants you to think he’s just using you for your body.

Even if he is.

Satoru Gojo

Set my alarm, turn on my charm That's because I'm a good old-fashioned loverboy

My most controversial Gojo take is that he’s actually not all that experienced

This man has spent his entire life either as a child or raising a child he didn’t have a lot of time for romance.

Not only that, but having sex with someone is an inherently vulnerable position to put yourself in. Man’s got too many enemies for that.

BUT that does not mean that he isn't willing to learn for you!

Gojo is above all else adaptable, and his main goal in the bedroom is to get you off. He’s willing to do whatever you need. 

Honestly, that’s probably his kink. Overstimulation. He wants to make you feel so good you're delirious, he wants to make you cum so hard you forget anything other than his name. 

He is the king of oral. It’s his favorite thing, eating you out through multiple orgrasam until his face is soaked in you. And he’s good at it too. He knows exactly how to make you  melt under him.

His dick isn’t thick, but it is long, and weirdly pretty for a cock. He also uses a ring light to take dick pics. Tell me he doesn’t, you can’t.

He’s also very vocal. He likes when you're loud, it’s how he knows he’s doing something right. So, he’s pretty vocal as well, wanting to let you know just how amazing you make him feel

when he's not telling you about how good you feel, he's kissing you. He LOVES kissing you, its like a drug to him.

Gojo struggles a lot with the feeling that people don’t really like him, so he has a praise kink. On both the giving AND receiving end

I also feel like he’s really into lingerie, and has no problems dropping a paycheck on a new set for you. 

Definition of “There’s a difference between fucking someone and making love.”

God, I hate that phrase but I'm genuinely not sure how else to get my point across lmao

When ya’ll are just fucking, he tries to play the part of a big tough dom, dirty talk galore, overstimulation to the point of tears, the man is a beast.

But in your quiet moments, when you’re, for lack of a better word, making love, there’s a 63% chance he's going to cry.

He gets overwhelmed by his love for you, and the realization that you love him for him, 6 eyes or not. It gets to him. 

And the best part? He’s not even embarrassed by it, because you don’t shame him for it. He’s truly safe with you

Kento Nanami

Hey pretty baby can you feel that heat? You got me twitchin to the edge of my seat

Dare I say daddy kink?

I do, I do dare. Nanami knows the type of person he attracts (riddled with daddy issues) and has decided to play into it. 

I feel like Nanami never loses his composure, even in the bedroom. He could be giving you the ride of your LIFE while calmly explaining the stock market to you. It’s part of why teacher Nanami is so appealing to me I’M SORRY-

“Are you paying attention? This is going to be on the test.”

He says as he's skullfucking you into oblivion 

Despite his calm composure, he's big on dirty talk…mostly as a way to ask for consent and gauge how you’re doing at the moment. He’s still Nanami

“You like that Princess?” “Beg for me.” “Tell me what you want,” All phrases that pop up commonly in your bedroom

He’s a panty snatcher, there I said it. He’s taking your panties with him when he leaves your place. You can get them back the next time you two get together. 

He is prone to taking out his frustration on you in the bedroom when he’s had a bad day.

Not that you're complaining, nothing like his thick cock splitting you open after a rough day, amiright?

Public sex. Nanami loves covertly fucking you, in various ways, and watching you try to keep your composure. Be it him finger fucking you under the table, or reminding you that you have guests downstairs while he rails you in your bedroom, he likes to test your volume control.

In a similar vein, phone sex! He’s away on “Business” a lot, so late nights on the phone with you are basically a necessity for him. 

M A R K I N G. You think it’s  childish? He doesn’t fucking care he needs EVERYON to know you’re together

Hickies everywhere, dark ones that don’t budge for days, even weeks

Brat tamer. No, I won't explain, look at him. 

He’s probably the best dom, even if he is a softer dom. He's going to discuss your hard and soft limits, safe word, and discuss the red yellow green system. Your comfort and safety is his number one priority. 

Going hand in hand with that, Nanami has mastered the art of aftercare. Anything you need, he’s got, anything you need him to do, he’s doing. He’s showering you in words of affirmation while trying to rehydrate you.

Also He’s cuddly. He wants you to fall asleep resting on his chest while he traces lazy patterns in your back. It’s his ideal way to go to sleep.

Ryomen Sukuna

My whole existence is flawed You get me closer to God

BESTIE idk how many different ways I can tell you not to go near this man, but let's find out

For one, he’s incredibly selfish, prioritizing his pleasure over yours every time. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t at least try to get you off though. Nay nay, getting you off is a part of his pleasure. Because it strokes his ego. 

Daycraphillia. Be it from pleasure or pain, he loves to see your tear soaked face.

This man is PACKING btw. It hurts at first everytime no matter how ready you are for him. The king of curses has the dick to back up all the shit he talks, you can’t convince me otherwise

He’s got four hands and he’s gonna use them all. Fingers in your pussy, on your tits, in your mouth, in on your ass. You're going to feel like you’re drowning in him.

Degradation. You're a filthy little whore, the only thing you’re good for is being a hole for him to fuck.

Does he actually mean this? I mean…shit, maybe! Depends on where you’re at in the relationship honestly. 

He will summon mouths in random places when fucking you. On his palms, above his cock, anywhere. Be prepared to feel a random tongue in random places.

…..breeding kink.

Honestly, I don’t think he’s proud of it. But something in him wants to fuck an heir into more than he wants to breath.

Also, blood and marking kink. These go hand in hand as far as he’s concerned. He will bite you until you bleed with no issue. 

He may not truly love you yet but the moment he stuck his dick in you, you became his. Which means no other man can touch you. Hence why he clearly marks you as his.

Aftercare who? He doesn’t know her, you’re lucky if he doesn’t immediately kick you out of the bed when he’s done. 

The exception being if you somehow managed to rope him into a “real” relationship. I still don’t think he’d be an aftercare king or anything, but he would at least cuddle with you until you passed out. 

Sukuna likes to find your limits, and then push you past them. He needs to see how far you’re willing to go for him, even if that breaks you.

God, this mf is so toxic. Why do I love him?

[bettysupremacy]

I’m in love with your version of peter already!!!

I would love if you could write maybe r hurting her knees and him kneeling to patch her up. maybe r not having the best experience with people touching her but trusting him:))

I hope you are having a good day/week/month!! and absolutely no pressure to write this

I was literally otp with @formulafics when I found this in my inbox and so excited. So cute!! Thank you for the request!

“It hurts.” You whimper pathetically. Peter watches the way you flinch at his fingers sorrowful.

You sit on the bathroom counter of his small apartment, scraped and bruised from a fall outside the spinning doors. You hadn’t seen the skateboard swish past you, and the owner hadn’t turned his head to check if you were okay. His doorman helped you up, embarrassingly, but Peter seemed to have been down the stairs before you could step off the lobby rug. He leans over you know, hands on the counter, head down inspecting the bloody skin.

“Can I touch it?” He murmurs, looking up at you. You stare at him. “I just want to help.”

Your eyes are puffy, a sight from crying, and your nose aches from the way you rub it. You’re sure it’s not the prettiest sight he’s ever seen, and a small rumble of embarrassment vibrates in your belly. You nod anyways.

“Are you sure?” He pushes. You know he wants verbal consent.

“Uh uh.” You frown, tapping your fingers against your knee. “You can.”

“Ok.”

He bends down onto his knees, eye level with the aching scrapes you adorn. Peter sucks his teeth sharply. “This look like it hurts.”

“It does.” You whisper, and Peter feels stupid for the basic observation.

“Can I clean it?” He looks up at you. “It might sting a little.” He’s honest with you. “But it’ll make them feel better.”

You nod, suddenly embarrassed for the show of emotions, feeling little under his stare like a hurt child.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you.” He frowns, like he can read your mind. Suddenly, he laughs like he knows he’s startled you, groaning as he pushes to stand again.

Peter’s got problems with his knees, they ache and creek like an old man’s, but you don’t know what’s could’ve caused that so early in the boys life. They pop as he fully straightens them and he smiles at you, laughing a quiet “Felt good.”

You swallow a smile at his goofy expression.

“Yeah, you can clean them.” You reiterate out loud.

“Perfect.” He beams at you, dancing out the bathroom to earn your smile. He yells from the other room. “Doctor Parker’s over here!”

You wipe your nose quickly before he shows back up. “You didn’t go to med school!”

You hear his disgruntled scoff from the hallway.

Popping back in the bathroom he delights in your laugh. He pulls his hand from his back like a magician, letting tissue float down over his fingers. “A tissue for the lady.”

“Thank you.” Your small laugh is watery as you take the tissue, dabbing your wet cheeks.

“Don’t mention it.” He quips, dropping back down onto his knees to inspect your knees.

“You can’t keep putting so much pressure on your knees like that.” You murmur.

“I always bounce back.” He smiles. “Let’s see” He glances up at you. “Can I?”

You nod, letting him take the back of your knee into his warm hand. The antiseptic burns, something Peter is very apologetic for, and the bandaid tingles, but you’re happy with the light touches Peter graces your leg.

“All done.” He jumps up, using the hands you give him as leverage. “All better?”

“All better.”

“Are you sure?” He drawls with a smile shining towards you. His fingers wiggle towards your stomach teasingly. “Don't lie to me, baby.”

“I’m not.” You giggle, shoving your fingers in his.

“Okay.” He grins. “You better not be fibbing.”

You laugh out loudly. “I’m not.”

“I’m not.” He mimics, pushing away the hands that his him to kiss your lips. His hands work their way down to hold your waist, bracing you to jump off the counter. “Ready for blastoff?”

Your hands cup over his. “Shut up.”

[alexa-fika]

HELLOOO I SAW UR FANFIC OF RAYLEIGH AND SHAKKY AND I WAS WONDERING IF U COULD DO ANOTHER ONE THANK YOUUU HAVE A GOOOD ONE AND OFC DONT IT IF A YA BUSY

THANK YOU HAVE A GOOD ONE

Tree Escapades (Rayleigh x gn!child!reader x Shakky )

A/N Here we go! I was heavily inspired by @novelbear and used quite a bit of their parent prompts to be able to do this one, of course instead of parents it’s our favorite grandparents : ), also check out my thinking sketch for this, I strive to have everything organized and proffesional

Reader is replaced by Dokusha here, which stands for reader in Japanese

Dividers by @/saradika

“Hahaha! Catch me if you can, Grandpa!” the small child screams joyously, running away from Rayleigh

Rayleigh couldn’t help but chuckle as the child ran away from him, his legs quickly moving as he ran behind the little kid.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have any problem doing that little rascal. You’ll get nowhere!”

They only receive a loud laugh in response as they dart away from view

“Dokucha!” he calls, falling after them

“You can’t run off like that, my love, you could get hurt,” he calls out, looking around for the child

"Dokusha, where are you? I know you’re around here; where are you?” he continues to scan the area, his eyes narrowed as he spoke, the expression on his face shifting from amusement to worry as he spots the child slowly climbing up one of the nearby trees

“Woah! Okay! Maybe let’s not do that!” he says, quickening his pace to stand below the tree

They stick their tongue out at him

“Grandpa can’t catch me now!”

Rayleigh couldn’t help but crack up at Dokusha’s attitude; the little child had clearly gotten the spunky personality of his captain.

He rolls his eyes as he activates and envelops his arm with busoshoku Haki and gives the tree a swift hit, causing the child to stumble on their climb

In a last-ditch effort to keep themselves on the tree, they take hold of one of the fruitful branches, only gaining to get a hold of a fruit before the branch caves in under their weight, and they fall straight into the awaiting hands of their grandfather

“Haha…oops?”

Rayleigh chortled as he cradled the child close to his chest, running his hands along their head and checking the child for any injuries

“Haha, you're in enough trouble, Dokusha. What were you thinking?” Rayleigh was trying to seem stern, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he looked at them

They giggle in their grand-fathers arm, glancing at their own arm and the fruit they had pulled down with them and inching it towards their mouth

Rayleigh quickly snatched the hand and fruit from Dokusha's grasp

“Ah-Ah, don’t eat that; you don’t know if these fruits are safe to eat.”

“Boohoo

Rayleigh playfully pinches the child’s nose

“Don’t you boohoo me, little rascal!” they said, throwing the child over his shoulders

They squeal as he does, banging their tiny fists on his back, a string of laughs escaping them as they did

Rayleigh laughed as he felt them pounding on his back as he carried them around

“I’ll have you know, Dokusha.. you're a little troublemaker. But a cute one, though I don’t think Shakky will be very happy with you once she hears of this.”

“No! Don’t tell Grandma!” they whine

“Hmm… maybe, maybe not. If you’re good and promise not to do it, then I won’t tell her, but if you misbehave, I’ll be forced to tell her that my darling Dokusha is a little devil.” a he stops to ‘think’ putting the hand that was not holding the child over his shoulder on his chin pretending to think hard

“ On the other hand, I don’t see any reason not to. You did something stupid and potentially dangerous. Maybe some time-out will change that.”

“Nooo”

“Yep, I have made up my mind. Should have thought twice thinking you could outrun your dear grandpa,” he says, entering the bar, Shakky standing behind the counter, the usual cigarette in her hand

“Looks like you two were having fun.”

“We sure were! Aren’t they just the cutest thing, and they have something to tell you as well, don’t they?”

Rayleigh said, pulling them from his shoulders and placing them on his hip, ignoring how they shook their head

“Don’t tell grandma!”

Rayleigh gave the child a slight squeeze on the side before he sighed and rolled his eyes*

“We have had this conversation. You are not going to get off the hook so easily,” Rayleigh said, crossing his arms and looking at Shakky, who was smiling

“Looks like our little rascal has been having a little too much fun,” Shakky said, taking a drag of her cigarette

“And I would very much like to know what it is that my little grandbabe has been up to.”

“Dokusha was up to no good as usual; I caught them when they decided to climb a tree, and when I stopped her from eating a fruit, they started bawling like a baby, saying, ‘Nooo, don’t tell grandma!’ They’re quite the little rascal, aren’t they?”

“I didn't bawl like a baby!” they protest

“Hmm, really? Could of fooled me,” Rayleigh replied as he looked at the child.

“Dokusha…” begins Shakky

They wince as they hear the stern tone in their grandmother's voice

“Dokusha, we talked about you climbing trees. You can not keep climbing trees; you will hurt yourself,” Shakky says, her tone very stern as she frowns at the little child

“We have also talked about you running off on your own, especially playing your little games without telling us you are playing said games,” she scolds

“Sorry”

“And that is the last time I hear of you misbehaving; we have had this discussion far too many times for you to be still acting out,” she says firmly but with a slight twinge of a smile,

“Are we understood?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“Oh, and no treats for you.”

“No!”

“Now go wash your hands; dinner is almost ready,” she said as she watched the child glower

Rayleigh chuckled as he put them down, and they stood their ground, pouting with their arms crossed

“Hm? Do I hear a week without treats?”Rayleigh said, cupping his ear

Shakky, catching on, nods her head

“I think I hear it too.”

Rayleigh laughs as the child quickly rushes over to the sink and wash their hands; Shakky can’t help but chuckle along

“I'm washing!”

“Well, aren't they well-behaved?”

Rayleigh nods, still laughing slightly

If only I could write my school essays as easy as I write these…

Taglist:

@imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

[lovrily]

hii!! i absolutely love your writing!! 😍 can i request a fic please with steve x fem!reader. mutual pining but they dont know with soulmate au. but steve is the first one who finds out that they're soulmates. thank youu <33

this is so sweet i love it thank u for requesting <3 i'm sorry it took so long, i'm in uni so i haven't had much time to write!! i hope this is similar to what you wanted!! - steve x fem!reader, 4000 words

the fact is that steve harrington knew you were soulmates the first time you opened your mouth, but he thought following that intuition would be corny, so he did not. instead, he let it eat him alive for a decade like a parasite, which made more sense to him to do. in the beginning, at least.

"hi."

this was fourth grade. you and steve had been in the same elementary school classes since kindergarten, and he knew who you were- but not well. you bounced between being quiet and loud; from sitting silently on the school bus with your head rattling against the window, to bouncing around the playground, coattails flapping in the autumn wind. all kids were like this, it seemed. elementary school flew by in a haze of long division, scraped knees, and complementary shaved ice. at the end of the day, every kid would end up talking to one another, at some point, shy or not. but this was the first time you had ever spoken to him.

steve bristled. "hey."

it was an incredibly fascinating phenomenon, you would later realize. the capacity of a child to fall in love with somebody they'd only spoken to once, and for it to never go away, even when adulthood made you strangers.

steve sniffled, cold october wind scratching his cheeks. he had an arm wrapped around the frozen metal pole of the jungle gym, his friends dangling about behind him.

"um," you started. "my friend dropped her journal down there and she's afraid to go get it."

you pointed at the mulch inside the dome of the jungle gym, then to your friend, who was whisper screaming profanities at you for saying, "she's afraid to go get it."

"i'm sorry!" you whispered back.

your frightened eyes followed the trail of mist your breath left in the icy air, dazedly. then you squinted against the breeze, trying not to stare at steve. you didn't want him to think you were weird, and you wouldn't ever have been brave enough to talk to him had your friend not begged for her journal back.

steve swallowed. he heard his heart in his ears; thump, thump. he liked the way you wobbled in the cold, nose all scrunched up as if it would somehow keep you warm.

"you want me to go get it?" he asked. "the journal?"

"yes!" you responded. "if you can. please. thank you."

steve dove into the jungle gym and retrieved the diary like it was a matter of national security. when he returned, valiantly, he banged his head against a rung of the jungle gym and hissed. you gasped, the sound a sharp wheeze.

"are you okay?"

"yeah, didn't hurt. s'fine."

he handed you the journal. the tip of your thumb poked his knuckles when you grabbed it. thump, thump.

"okay," you nodded. "well, thanks. thank you."

"yeah, no problem. you- do you need anything else?"

your lips crept up, threatening to make the widest grin you had ever grinned in your life, but you scrunched them down. don't look stupid.

"oh, no, just this. that's okay."

"okay. just checking."

you blinked at him, then sniffled, wiping your sleeve across your nose. "okay, bye."

steve saw an entire life before him, then; prom, marriage, a mortgage. she's so pretty.

"bye."

that's all he said.

steve's friends laughed like hyenas at him once you had gone. and your friend had dove off the jungle gym to chase you across the field and hiss, "hey, y/n, he definitely likes you!"

you weren't so sure. but you wished he did; that you were sure of.

. . .

steve decided he was going to marry you if you said yes. well, in a few years, at least. he definitely wasn't going to ask you before middle school. that was too early.

middle school came and went and he realized that, regretfully, middle school was also too early to ask a girl to marry you. but he wasn't asking you anything. at all. you never talked to him; and he wondered if it was something he did. he saw you in class, and in the hallways. he saw you help your friends carry their books, and pick the fuzz out of their hair when they couldn't see that it was there. you were kind. he watched your presentations and how your hands shook when you spoke. he wondered why you wouldn't talk to him, if it was because you didn't want to.

"she's just quiet, man," his friends would say. "you gotta' approach her. and, i mean, why would you even wanna' be with a girl like that? sounds boring."

after that, he didn't mention you anymore. to anyone. he didn't like it when his friends poked fun at you, and he especially didn't like that he never knew what to say in return. you were shy, it seemed. or, maybe, you just didn't like him.

or, maybe, you've only talked to her once in your life and if you just talked to her again, she would be your friend.

he decided that this was ridiculous. it was better to never speak to you again, and not have to deal with the scorn of rejection from a girl he had been in love with since age ten.

better to say nothing.

. . .

steve's infatuation became impossible to ignore when you started babysitting max mayfield.

in the fall of 1984- your sophomore year- max's mother contracted you (at a very discounted rate) to watch max when billy, her step brother, could not. at first, this wasn't overly often; just the occasional ride to school and microwaved television dinner. you liked max, and despite her cold exterior, she seemed to like you. when billy realized he could get you to watch max more often at even further discounted rate (a.k.a. no rate at all), he forced her on you more often. what were you supposed to do? refuse to watch her, and let her sit at home by herself? knowing max, she wouldn't sit at home, anyway. she would go find trouble. of course you watched her, even when billy gave you no choice.

this is how you ended up babysitting on halloween.

unbeknownst to you, it was steve's neighborhood that you were wandering through that night. max had gone to meet up with her friends; mike wheeler, lucas sinclair, dustin henderson, will byers- whom you had never seen her hang out with before. she seemed to think they would all be happy to see her, but apparently, some of them were not.

"mike is such an asshole," max huffed.

she kicked at the dirt along the side of the road as you walked. you folded your arms over your chest, fists bundled in your sleeves, hair whipping over your eyes. her michael myers mask dangled in your hand. you hadn't expected to be out all night, you hadn't expected to be working on halloween at all. not that you had other plans to attend to, or anything you would rather be doing, but you hadn't dressed for the weather. a zip-up hoodie was all that shielded you from the brisk wind, erring on the side of winter rather than fall that halloween.

"i believe you," you snickered.

"good. i just don't understand why he has to be such a dick. i mean..."

she continued to flay mike as you meandered down the interstate, having wandered completely away from the sidewalk and any neighborhood you were familiar with. anxiety beat in your chest and pooled in your belly. it had to be close to midnight, and you were nowhere near home. you had to turn around.

"hey, max-"

she ignored you for the distraction of flashing red lights. you had come upon a house; swathes of people milling about outside and dancing dangerously close to the uncovered pool. bodies in bloody corsets and leather jackets swarmed the grass and filled up the windows like paintings. your stomach sunk.

this was steve's house. you just knew it. you didn't know how you knew, but you knew. he always had halloween parties, and everybody came to them. and though you hadn't spoken to steve since, well, elementary school, probably- you didn't want him knowing you had nowhere to go on halloween night. and you certainly didn't want to be seen at his halloween party that everybody was invited to except you.

rightfully so. you weren't friends. he wouldn't want to be my friend.

"oh, shit," max murmured. "whose house is this?"

"i don't know," you mustered. "it's late, though. i'd love to berate mike some more, but we should probably head back towards your house while we do it."

"hey!"

oh, god.

"no fuckin' way," a voice surmised, sauntering over with staggering feet. he was tall, lanky like a pole, blonde as cornsilk. he wore a cheap costume- a blue muscle tank and two fraying boxing gloves. a troupe of boys followed him, each drunker than the last. "i know you!"

"do you?" you laughed, trying to sound unphased. you knew him. he was on the basketball team, one of steve's friends, though you didn't know his name. you wondered if you were about to become the victim of some outrageous, hollywood instance of bullying; like when kids got their skulls smashed in lockers or drowned in toilets in movies.

"yeah. you look alright, huh? never seen you out anywhere before, though. what's that costume? some kinda' track girl?"

thump, thump. your heart was in your ears and your throat. they laughed as you gazed over their heads, scanning the yard. thankfully, steve wasn't around. nancy. he was probably with his girlfriend, nancy.

"you're steve's girl," slurred the blonde.

max glowered. "she's what?"

i'm what?

you blinked like your eyelids weighed a thousand pounds. "no, i'm not."

"yeah you are. he talks about you, like, all the fucking time. well, not so much anymore. cuz' of miss nancy."

the troupe of boys fawned and groaned, mocking and kissing. their laughter filled your ears, an awful sound. they were making fun of you, right? they had to be.

"don't be an asshole," griped max.

they laughed even harder.

"seriously, i'm not joking. he's been talking about you for, like, years. he's obsessed."

your cheeks flared hot and red. there was no hiding your humiliation anymore, no reason to pretend you weren't upset. they could see it. everybody could. how is it possible that you could have made such an awful impression in the fourth grade that steve had been making fun of you for six years? was it that obvious that you had a crush on him?

you positioned max on your left to shield her from the drunken boys and tried to walk away.

"y/n-" max lamented.

"it's fine. no big deal," you whispered.

"goddamn," drawled the blonde boy. "makes sense why he gave up on you. can't even hold a conversation. not nearly fuckin' hot enough to be acting like th-"

the punch that followed landed like a hammer on stone.

you whirled around, clutching max by her shoulders like it would do anything to protect her. the sight before you was something out of dreams and nightmares.

the blonde boy was being hoisted off the ground by two scantily clad firemen, blood dripping from the sweaty skin between his upper lip and nostrils. and it had been steve harrington who'd thrown the punch.

he backed up slowly at first, ringing out his fist like a rag. a black suit was snuff against the breadth of his shoulders, dark hair flopping into his eyes. his eyes scrunched up for a moment, lashes fluttering, and he cursed under his breath. damn. that had to hurt.

you pictured a brunette boy with rosy cheeks, squinting through the cold like it burned him, leaning against a jungle gym.

steve looked at you and you backed away like you would be next. obviously, you wouldn't be. but when he looked at you, his eyes were painted red.

"you alright?" his gaze flashed to the little girl beside you, confused. "both of you?"

he was out of breath. suddenly, you were too. what hell is this?

"yeah," you blurted. "yes. we're fine. i'm so sorry, i don't even know what-"

you took to long to finish your thought. i don't even know what's going on, i don't even know what he meant. why have you been making fun of me?

"i don't know what he said," steve panted. "whatever it was, it's bullshit. he's a dick. don't-"

he faltered.

"i'm sorry," steve scathed. "i don't know what all he said."

"it's okay," you shook your head.

"no." he wiped a hand over his eyes. "it's not-"

"harrington!" the blonde boy shouted. "get your ass over here! now!"

steve kept his eyes on you. "you sure you're okay?"

"we're fine," you nodded, pulling max away, eager to be anywhere else. your head was reeling. "we'll go. it's really alright. we'll just go. don't...don't break your hand."

he made an odd face at you; something amused and furious. you spotted a black glint on the ground. his sunglasses.

you picked them up and held them out. he took them, and your thumb brushed against his knuckles.

thump, thump.

"don't break your hand," you repeated. "just, don't- be...i have to get her home. i'm sorry. thank you."

you took off, max dragging behind you, and halfway home she started cackling. "what the hell was that about?"

. . .

the next summer, babysitting max mayfield turned into babysitting all of her friends, and by then, you were irrevocably intertwined with the upside down, steve harrington, and apparently, russia. you'd seen it all. the demogorgon, the demodogs, steve's bat of one-thousand nails. you'd met eleven, whose pixie cut had grown into a bob, and then bangs. you'd watched her move away, the byers along with her. all of it, you had been there for.

but you refused to befriend steve.

it was the most ridiculous situation (as it always was with the two of you) and you had no idea why. you had no idea why his friends had made fun of you at the halloween party, why your one conversation in elementary school had led him to be so disgusted by you, why, no matter what you did; every class attended, every step taken, every word spoken, every alien-abomination killed- led you back to steve harrington.

steve knew why, of course. you were soulmates. but you hated him. so what was he supposed to do about it? you never talked to him; not when you brushed shoulders hiding from demodogs on an abandoned bus, not when you helped haul him out of the starcourt mall movie theater, his intoxicated head bouncing against the crook of your neck.

he thought about that every time he saw you.

and robin buckley knew all about it. when steve finally caved and told her everything, it was clear to her. she knew, without a doubt, that the two of you were just idiots. and no matter how corny it was, you were definitely soulmates. for better, or for worse.

actually, she knew it before he ever told her. all anyone had to do was watch the two of you.

each time you came to scoops ahoy that summer, steve scooped you a serving of black raspberry chip in a plastic bowl, without you having to order. (he'd seen you ask for it once when robin was working the counter, and had prepared it for you every time since). you were polite each time, saying thank you, you didn't have to do that. and steve would say, oh, no problem. you would turn to whichever kid you were babysitting that day and say, it's my favorite. and each time, steve would smile. but he would turn away and pretend to be scrubbing the sink- which made you think you had pavloved him into giving you your favorite ice cream each time he saw you, that you were holding him hostage somehow, because he pitied you.

this was not the case.

on the occasions in which upside-down business relegated you to riding in steve's car, you always sat in the back, passenger's side, where he could see you in the mirror. steve prefered to drive with the windows down. but his eyes would flick to the mirror, to where you sat in the back. when your hair swallowed your head, the summer breeze blowing it into your eyes and mouth, you never complained. but steve always watched. he rolled the windows up whenever the wind was too strong, without a word.

there was more. when you climbed the rope out of the upside-down into eddie's trailer, he lingered below, hands outstretched incase you fell. when you accidentally snagged your finger on a splinter at the creel house, he set down band-aids and neosporin on the coffee table, and waited around the corner incase you asked for help.

he recognized your favorite shirts. he never touched you without asking, even on accident, even to help. he never made a joke without looking to see if you were laughing. he listened to every word you spoke; to him, to the others, to yourself, but he never pried. he never sat close to nancy when you were in the same room, or robin, even- on the off chance you thought there was something there. he knew your favorite songs, and would search for them on the radio without saying anything. and when you were in danger, he always got you behind him; even if you didn't notice.

"grow the fuck up, steve, just TALK to her."

steve blinked, robin's open-mouthed expression the picture of exhaustion. he swallowed.

"yeah, whatever. okay? i'm not scared."

"don't be dense."

"i'm not dense."

"just tell her you like her," robin huffed.

they were folding clothes at the school, putting them in boxes to donate. vecna had torn a hole in the sky, crimson kindling behind the pewter clouds outside. a storm was coming. things might never get back to normal.

there might never be another moment quiet enough to tell you the truth.

steve nodded. "yeah," he muttered, not unkind. "i guess you're right."

robin threw a bra at him.

. . .

what kind of creep would follow you home in the middle of the apocalypse?

you balled your fists at your sides, charging ahead. the wheeler's house was only a block away, and with no car, you had to go on foot to pick up the remainder of their donations. you were out of breath, sweat beading on the back of your neck, happy and angry to be alone all at the same time. the sky looked like it was bleeding, and everything was changing. so much had already changed, but nothing that you wanted to.

you were aware of the guy's presence behind you, his body a wall of heat, his shadow casting a long grey ghost on the pavement in front of you. his hair flopped over his eyes like some sort of catalogue model, the imprints of his sleeves shown rolled up to his elbows. what a dick.

he'd been following you for about thirty seconds. you were the only person sent to the wheeler's to gather donations, and if this stranger had tagged along for that purpose, he would have told you by now.

you sped up. he sped up. you started running. he reached out his hand, as if to grab the back of your jeans.

you hauled around a wound up a smack that would tattoo your palm-print on his cheek forever.

steve seized your arm.

"what the hell?"

you sucked in a breath. "steve?"

"jesus christ," he panted, glancing between your eyes and your wrist inside his fingers. "you could have killed me."

"oh my god," you breathed out. he released you instantly, and you put your hands on your knees, bending. "oh my god."

"are you okay?"

"shut up! just shut up!"

"okay," he nodded. "okay. just-" he rubbed a hand down his face. "jesus, fuck," he murmured.

"i'm sorry," you stood. lunged closer, lungs deflated like old balloons. "steve. oh my god. i'm sorry."

"no!" he scoffed. "don't be sorry. it's my fault. fuck. i don't know why i didn't say anything, i should have said something."

"i thought you were following me!"

"i was," he nodded. swallowed, like there was a rock in his mouth.

you panted. "oh."

"well, yeah, i-" he squinted. for the briefest, briefest moment, his pupils flicked from your eyes to your lips, swollen in the sun. "fuck."

it was enough. that, right there, that was enough. you suddenly understood.

you saw that stupid brunette boy squinting on the playground, his lips chapped from the cold, his cheeks red as irons. you saw him with blood on his knuckles, staggering away from the friend he had just mauled. you saw his hand outstretched; handing you ice cream, opening the car door, lingering around your wrist.

he hadn't been making fun of you all those years. he liked you.

idiot.

everything bubbled to the surface; you had so much to say but so little at the same time. you were so embarassed, still embarassed, after all this time, after everything.

stop it, you thought. get over it. do something.

so you made a choice.

"kiss me."

his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "sorry?"

you couldn't even repeat it. nerves shot through you like lightning, seizing your heart, making your hands shake.

"if you want to, i mean. obviously. i thought- only if you want to-"

"i want to," he breathed.

"you do?"

"are you kidding me? are you joking?"

you grimaced. "no."

"y/n," steve softened. like a lament, like it was the first time he'd ever said your name. his brows knit together.

he didn't finish his thought. he just did what you asked.

when he kissed you, the two of you locked into place; slotted together like twin shards of broken glass, reunited. his mouth was surprisingly cool despite the blazing heat around you, like his nervousness was palpable, cold to the touch. his hands shook, grazing over your shoulders, your waist, the back of your neck, unsure of where to touch first, like he wouldn't have the chance to touch you anywhere ever again. he landed with one hand on the back of your neck, your hair spilling between his fingers, and the other around your waist, holding you close.

you ducked away for a breath and thought he might cry.

"i have to ask you," you panted.

"yeah, anything," steve breathed.

"at the halloween party, when you hit that guy. you liked me."

"what? of course. always. i always have. i should have said so. i'm so stupid."

"no, you're not. don't say that."

his hands shifted, palms on either side of your face.

"but you weren't making fun of me," you said, even though it was stupid. his pupils were darting across every point of your face- your nose, your cheeks, your chin. "and he wasn't making fun of me. not until the end, at least."

steve's face crumpled. "you're killing me, y/n."

"he meant it?" you grinned. "you did like me? the whole time?"

"for a decade, killer." he grimaced. "stop looking at me like that."

"like what?"

"like that's a good thing. i should've killed him for talking to you like that."

"no," you laughed, because he obviously didn't mean it.

"yeah, i should have. yes."

maybe he did mean it.

you kissed him this time, and you felt him shudder; his fingers twitching across your face. when you pulled back, he ran his fingers over your closed eyes, grazing your eyelashes.

"i'm sorry," he whispered.

"me too," you said softly. "i should have said something."

"no," he shook his head. "no. that's on me."

the two of you sat there for a moment longer. the sky had darkened overhead, the crimson behind the clouds now a shade the color of wine, dark and murky. heat lightning flashed like sirens. hawkins was imploding.

"this town is ridiculous," you muttered.

"i know," steve huffed. like he'd been waiting years to say it. "it's hot as hell. where are you going?"

"the wheeler's, for donations."

"i'll walk you. if you want. next to you, though, not behind you like a creep."

you tried not to grin. "oh, will you?"

steve shook his head, casting you an incredulous look as he fell in line beside you on the sidewalk. "nothing you say could embarrass me, at this point. absolutely nothing."

"why not?"

because i was right, he wanted to say. because i've known we were soulmates since the fourth grade.

actually, it was still extremely embarrassing, so he kept the thought to himself- despite the enormous amount of relief and euphoria it brought him. you'd missed prom, but marriage and a mortgage didn't seem so far off, as long as the world didn't end.

steve just shook his head instead. "nothing. hey, are you following me?"

"shut up!"

. . .

i haven't written in so long i hope this is similar to what you asked for!!! i wanted to write more than just a drabble so i expanded on it i hope that's okay. much love. mwah

[eww-y-tho]

Debby Downer here, but I only have one true complaint for S3.

I WANTED TO SEE HOW THEY FIRST MET.

(idk how the books went with their first meeting, but I personally would enjoy it like this. this is essentially my fanfic of how I wanted it to be used lol.)

This is really where the 'show, don't tell' rule rears its head. I understand it would be hard to do, you would need permission for child actors to play the part of Penelope's head covering smacking Colin and him falling to the ground. But you could easily do a quick cut from the head covering flying off from the wind kicking up to some impact sound effect and then a closeup of a hand or foot falling on the ground without actually making the kid fall off the horse. make the covering land somewhere close by so that what happened can be easily interpreted.

It could be really seen as a transparent film tactic to work around the problems with child actors, but it would still at least give us a reference point to their closeness. They mention it twice and go in excessive detail. We needed something to get us to really feel the sweetness of their first meeting and just how special they were to each other since the beginning.

I would shave off the market scene to be like "Do you remember when we first met?" "Obviously, especially the part where I apologized. Why are you bringing this up now? I thought you would have forgiven me at this point." (<- in a sweet/humourous tone) "W-Well- you were teasing me so mercilessly, that it's still fresh in my mind. And do you know why? You were so very charming about it" so on, and so forth.

Then, instead of the frankly stupid balloon scene, I would have Pen wear a similar head-covering during the same event, and Pen wouldn't notice while it flies off in the scene where Pen is trying to win Debling with Cressida and Eloise. Colin would be closer to them and it would smack him in the chest, he would smile, and walk up to return it. Colin wouldn't say anything and Pen would flash her heart eyes at Colin before they would return to their conversations, and Debling would look at her with his "I'm catching the sus vibes" eyes.

Now, personally, do you know where I would put the flashback?

Right at the scene where Colin remembers Pen at his writing desk before going to go to the ball to get Pen from Debling. We would have swelling music (with no other audio) going from the scene where Pen grabs Colin's hand in ep2, to Colin grabbing her hand in s2 in the "come with me" scene, to the back-and-forth shot from when Colin comes back in s2, to Colin grabbing Pen's hand in s1 when she's trying to convince Colin about Marina, to their stare at the "what a barb!" scene, to Colin grabbing her hand to dance in ep1, and then we would have their first meeting.

Have the scene have abruptly no music and a hazy filter like the flackbacks from previous seasons. Start with Colin riding his horse, and then do the two shots, like I said, but have Pen laughing really loud once he falls before covering her mouth and being like "Sorry!" and then he laughs really loud and they both cackle for a bit before Pen quiets down and starts ribbing him about his perceived bad horse riding skills. Colin just keeps laughing until there's a closeup of Pen's face as she looks at Colin. While he gets up she blurts out that her name is Penelope and then he says his name is Colin and then that's where it would end. Colin gets up from his desk, yada yada.

The bad horseriding comment would make Colin's engagement party speech so much cuter, and paired with Pen laughing and then everyone staring at her and being confused about the inside joke would really hammer that part of the scene down as foundational to their relationship.

OH OH OH AND THEN have a continuation when Colin opens the first letter to a cut where, after the whole thing happens, Colin looks at Pen with some awkward silence and he smiles as Pen hesitantly walks away and Eloise approaches her (this is really starting to sound like a fanfic now lol). Smash cut to "Yours Truly, Penelope" and then adult Colin smiling at the letter and the scene is now like 10x more emotional.

Also, you know the scene in ep8 when Colin is staring at the wall while brooding before Pen tells him about the Cressida blackmail? In another flashback, where Edmund died and the news hit everybody, Colin is locked up in his room and Pen goes from comforting a crying Eloise to knocking on Colin's door.

He would get up and open it, looking miserable. Pen would jump to hug him and There would be back-and-forth shots of them both crying silently. Bam, another cut to Colin almost crying as he stares at the wall before Eloise comes into the scene. That would just add a little bit more oomph to Polin's relationship and would make the impact of LW hit harder, IMO.

I'm still happy with the season, but I think that's the one fault that I am still not enjoying about it. I think it was just a bad choice to not carve out some money from promotional stuff for these flashbacks, and I think the romance suffers from not being able to see that. Idk, maybe I'm tripping.

[writingshushf1]

Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

Summary: the one where going back to your hometown is never a good idea.

Rating: +18

Warnings: pure angst (w/ a happy ending), derogatory language, psychological trauma, negligent parents, mentions of abuse, anxiety, depression, mentions of teen pregnancy, ab*rtion, self-harm, addiction and ending your own life

Word count: 8.5k

Note: it’s a very loooong and heavy fic, all the possible triggers are mentioned above, so please see them before you read this one, because it has a lot of uncomfy moments. I wrote it originally around christmas (so themed fanfic?), also available in my ao3.

masterlist

The cold wind whipped against her body and she shivered slightly, the city was colder than expected. She looked around, people walking, chatting; she knew most of them, many had not changed at all since leaving the city for a better life. Since the day she finished high school, she swore she would never set foot in that city again, yet there she was. The only cousin she still considered family, recently had her second child, so the relative begged her to spend some time together; as she was busy, the only time off she could extend was precisely during the holidays.

Going back to that city gave her the creeps, she didn't like to remember everything she'd been through here. Still, she would never deny a request coming from her cousin, since whenever her relative had time, she would go visit her in London.

Her story was a complicated one. A high school plagued with problems at home - her parents never stopped fighting and consequently all the marital problems reflected on her, physically and psychologically. Several times she wished the world would take her away from that suffering. Not only that, but inside the school she was excluded, considered as stupid and someone who would not have a promising future, as a girl who only served the body, since the mind was empty. Boys cheated on their girlfriends with her, turned her into an inside joke, while girls hated her for everything. It was all jokes and games until she got pregnant when she was 16. Her parents freaked out, Christmas that year was terrible, her father's screams were so loud that the neighbours could hear his swearing.

She managed to get to London, going to a public clinic and begging the secretary to have the procedure done without her parents' permission, then she would just use the excuse of having had a miscarriage. That night on December 24th, sitting on the curb, looking at the Christmas lights in the big city, she had promised she would live there.

Until she turned eighteen, she tried to be erased from other people's memories of the city, just doing the school-home commute, doing all the endless chores demanded by her father - since her mother was too busy with her face stuffed into a glass of wine, and making enough money to get out of there through nights working as a cleaner at the roadside diner. It wasn't glorious, her past still ached in her heart, having this profound journey when you're only a teenager had scarred her life. Her cousin, Rosie, was still the light at the end of the tunnel in all this chaos she could call her past; the one who paid for her train tickets to the capital had been her, the one who fetched her from unpleasant encounters with boys who purposefully sought her out for an easy fuck, the one who fought with men for harassing her, the one who was there when she tried to take her own life and stood by her hospital bed while she became an even bigger laughing stock, not only among her peers but also in her entire family, who proudly pushed her away from everything they could.

So going back to that epicentre of her traumas was what she was doing for her cousin, a way of thanking her for everything she had done to keep her alive.

In 12 years, a person can change a lot; her hair was no longer in its natural colour, her body was strong, her head held high and the confidence that was built in many intense therapy sessions; plus an overcoming of an addiction. Some people recognised her on the street, with shocked expressions at seeing her dressed so well, others ignored as soon as she said hello and there were also those who pulled nasty conversations - obviously those who peaked in high school and were now in mediocre jobs. She responded with the utmost happiness, being in a job that valued her and still paid well was a difficult thing these days.

The woman parked her bike in front of her cousin's house, looking around, the houses were still the same, just some renovations or painting. That feeling of panic started to hover, her old house was across the street, right in front of her cousin's house. She took a few seconds to remove her helmet and grab her backpack, walking in dragging steps down the driveway, knocking on the door lightly. Nobody answered, how strange. She sighed loudly, looking at the time on her mobile phone, she was probably shopping. She walked slowly and sat on the steps, watching the movement on the street; she sent some messages to Rosie, who answered, apologising for the wait, but the line at the supermarket was huge.

Suddenly, a black Mercedes stopped there, almost crushing her bike. She stood up quickly, to check if there was any damage, ready to curse the reckless driver. A dark-skinned man with braided hair and fancy clothes stepped out of the driver's side, looking straight at her and walking calmly towards her - which made the woman's blood boil even more.

"Oy! Sorry for almost messing up your bike, I didn't mean to."

"Mate, you're lucky nothing happened." She retorted, looking the motorbike up and down.

"Oh... Okay, you don't need to get mad at me." He raised his arms and she rolled her eyes.

Before they could continue their conversation, Rosie parked her car, flashing a smile at the sight of her. She ran over and hugged her tight, which removed her tough-guy composure in front of the stranger. The older woman looked at the man who was standing there, who was waiting for the other man's answer, for a few seconds they stood still, until the owner of the other car went to him, hugging the man, who smiled and kissed her cheek back.

“Lewis freaking Hamilton, you’re back home!” The blond said to him. “The only time of the year we can actually see each other. I bloody missed you.”

“Me too. Fancy a cuppa?” He said, letting her go.

“Oh! I- I don’t know! My cousin just arrived and I need to set her down, right?” Rosie looked at her, circling her short arms around her younger cousin’s shoulders. “Maybe tomorrow! You and bring your niece and nephew, Bandit will love to have a playdate with them.”

“Deal.”

They dispersed, with the women going to the eldest house, while Hamilton headed to his parents' house.

Rosie's house was cosy, family photos on the walls, very colourful and well decorated. The blonde showed around, finally showing the room she would be staying in; there were a couple of clean towels, soap, shampoo and conditioner on top of a neatly made bed. The room was smelly and well lit, even if it was small, it gave a feeling of comfort.

"You can go pack your things, I'll start dinner. Jam is with the baby, he's gone for a routine doctor's appointment and will pick Bandit up from school later." She placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "Thank you for being here, you don't know how grateful I am to welcome you into my home."

"Only you could bring me to this place again."

They both cracked a warm smile, with the older one walking off and leaving the girl alone with her thoughts. She grabbed one of the towels, the toiletries and went to shower in the en suite bathroom. After undressing, she spent a few seconds staring at her body in the mirror, the scars across her torso that revealed her past, the stretch marks along her breasts and belly that hid a story she preferred to keep to herself. She took a boiling bath, letting the water do its effect and easing the pain in her back from driving on the motorbike all day. When she got out, she had only the fluffy towel wrapped around her body, she walked over to the bed, opening her backpack and pulling out a sweatshirt and trousers, she was too distracted by what she was going to wear to notice that her window faced the neighbour's window - which was consequently the room where Lewis Hamilton was staying and in the same situation as she was, with a towel around his waist after a hot shower, choosing a comfortable outfit. They both raised their heads at the same moment, exchanging a few seconds of eye contact, which was soon broken by the girl pulling back the curtain of her window. The man was visibly intrigued, his cheeks reddened by the intimate moment with the stranger.

In parallel, she went to dinner with her cousin and her family, while he had fun with his family, his niece and nephew running around the house.

…...................................................

During the afternoon tea they arranged, Rosie hosted not only for Hamilton, but also his entire family. The Londoner knew him very well, they were the same age, went to the same school from kindergarten to high school; she didn't know where to stick her face, her parents would recognise her too, she was a big topic among the adults in town. She tried to keep calm the whole moment, focusing her attention on Bandit, who called her to play together with the other children, she would surely thank him later, probably giving her some exaggerated and expensive gift. When it was time to eat, she walked further behind the children, helping her cousin set the table for afternoon tea, avoiding looking her neighbours in the face. She sat down next to the little boy who saved her skin, helping him serve himself and soon after putting food on his plate. She hated eating with strangers, however she would try her best for Rosie.

"I feel like I know you." one of Hamilton's sisters said to the woman.

"You probably do, this town is small and we are always bumping into each other." She shrugged.

His sisters seemed to have recognised the girl, however they kept quiet on that subject for the rest of the day.

By the time night was coming on, it was just her and Hamilton, sitting on the front steps of the house. The silence was not awkward, much less uncomfortable, it seemed they understood each other without any words being exchanged.

"Sorry about yesterday, I was a brat with you, mate." She said low.

"Nah, it's alright, I guess you're just a bit of a crikey... As my teammate would say it." He cracked a smile, as a result she lightly slapped his arm, which earned a laugh from both of them. The silence lasted a few more seconds after they stopped laughing, then he broke it. "My half-sisters know you."

"Yeah? One of them commented today, but we didn't follow up on it."

"They told me some things that got me gutted." Oh no, here it comes. The judgement, the past mistakes being brought on by this guy you barely knew.

"What did they say?"

"Well... We already knew a little about your parents, but they told me how you were treated in high school." She felt a wave of emotions invade her body, she didn't know whether to start swearing at him, or cry, or run far away. "It wasn't fair." Lewis said low, wiggling his fingers in each other's. "And I'm sorry my sisters never did anything to prevent it."

"It's not their fault those people were a bunch of arses." She stood, ready to go inside.

"Hey, wait!" He stood as well, holding her wrist so she couldn't leave, pulling her against his body in a warm hug. She closed her eyes, feeling the embrace, it was so good to just let it go.

They kept hugging for a while, him running his fingers through her back and she was squeezing the fabric of his hoodie.

“Tomorrow, there will be the Christmas event downtown, want to come with me? A lot of people from my former friend group will be there.” He said. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay, there will be people you know from your high school too, but I would love to have a good company so I can be there sober.” He chuckled at the end, to make the request lighter.

The ask came with a shock, they knew each other for 48 hours and he seemed so comfortable to be with her. She also felt amazing, the way he listened and cared about his relatives, during the afternoon he would often check on the kids, bring them snacks, then talk with the women about the most varied subjects, which made her question what he worked on. Lewis looked hopeful, waiting for a response.

“Okay, only because you’re a good one, but if people start giving me the shits, we’ll leave and for revenge, you’ll watch the Grinch with me; because I’m his reeincarnation and it’s the best coping mechanism.”

“Oh. So you hate Christmas?” He was way focused on the details then the overall request.

“Of course, bad things always happen on this daft holiday.”

“So my job is to make you see like I do. The past is already gone, we should celebrate the present and hope for the future, darling.”

“So I’ll wait for tomorrow night to be the best of my life?” She teased, feeling her heart beating faster than usual.

“It will be, trust me.”

…............................................

She was getting ready, happier and more nervous than usual, she wanted to look good, obviously the motive didn't pass through her mind. Rosie was walking down the corridor, but stopped when she smelled the citrusy perfume in her guest’s bedroom; the woman smiled, looking at her cousin, who was putting some makeup on.

“Ooh, getting fancy? For whom may I ask?” The older one leaned on the door frame.

“Lewis invited me to go to the Christmas event, he doesn’t want to go alone, maybe people won’t bother him as much.” She answered, grabbing her purse and fixing her beanie.

“Right.” Her irony could be spotted from miles away. “A smoking hot single guy asking you to go out with him in a sorta romantic setting is just because he doesn’t want to be surrounded by people from his past.”

“Rosie… Shut up! We’re going as friends and if it’s too daft, he’ll be forced to watch Grinch with me.”

“Not romantic, at all.” She chuckled and the doorbell rang. “It’s your prince charming!”

“I swear to God, you’re such an arse!” The girl ran downstairs right after the blonde one, seeing that she was talking with him, so the younger one stopped on her tracks, smiling nervously.

“There you are.” Lewis said, with his beautiful bright smile. “Looking amazing, love.” She walked towards him, smacking his arm slightly.

“You’re so cheeky.”

“And you’re lovely.” He responded, hooking their arms together. “Let’s go before we get late.”

They waved at Rosie, going to his car.

….................................................................

“I’m nervous.” She said, playing with her ring. “People still look at me weird.”

“It’s horrible.” He sighed. “I know my situation is way different from yours, but I understand this feeling, those racist pricks who talked shit and said I would never be a successful driver and here I am.”

“Oh… Really?” She put a hand on his shoulder slightly, squeezing it before lowering to her thigh again. “This must be a very silly question to you…”

“What?”

“A driver? Hum… I know I’ve seen your face somewhere but, what do you do? I mean... Driver?” Her cheeks were bright red.

“Formula One driver.” He smirked, it was a nice change to go out with someone that wasn’t interested in his fame or fortune, a woman that wanted him for him, his company, his odd sense of humour and a lot of style.

“Oy. That’s why.” She chuckled. “You must be really good then.”

“Seven titles and counting.” His cheekiness made her stomach flutter. “How about you?”

“I work on the creating process of a clothing brand for kids. It’s nice and colourful, my office? Full of stuffed toys, different wallpapers, one day I’ll show you.” She was proud about her work, it was something that made her happy, connected with a part of her life that she had lost and it was a good salary.

“I would love to.” He parked his car. “The way you talk about it, it’s lovely.”

They got out of the car and quickly he hooked her arm with his, walking through the closed street of the city centre. Immediately she felt the eyes on them, people whispering and trying to be discreet while taking pictures of them. He looked at her with a reassuring smile, muttering ‘everything is going to be okay’. Some kids ran to him, asking for pictures, which he happily complied, hugging them and taking his time with them while she was standing a bit further, cracking a smile on how gentle he was. However, things weren't perfect, so when she looked at the parents of the kid, her smile fell; the woman slowly came closer to her, saying her name.

“The one and only.” She answered, uncomfortable.

“I haven't seen you since…”

“We’ve finished high school. A long time ago.”

“Oh… Yeah.” The ginger was checking her from head to toe, with a disgusted expression. “You changed a lot.”

“London does wonders to you.” She joked, passing her hand around her neck, looking away. “Anyway! You stayed here?”

“Yeah, me and Rob went to university in the neighbouring city and then came back, we got married and had our beautiful boys.” Oh wow, how cliche. “And you?”

“Got out of here and tried. Failed a couple of times…” She chuckled, looking at Hamilton. “And now working in the creative process of…” She saw the kids come back, excitedly from meeting their idol and she immediately noticed the brand of their jackets. “The brand your kids are using right now.”

Lewis walked back at her, putting his hand on her shoulder, analysing the situation and seeing her slightly uncomfortable.

“Impressive.” The passive-aggressiveness in her voice was enough for the British man.

“Well, I’m very sorry to interrupt the chat, but we have to keep going if we want to get the best hot chocolate before it’s over.” He put the other hand on her shoulder, slightly massaging it. “Maybe we’ll have another free time to catch up.” With that, he held her hand pulled away from the couple, waving goodbye to the kids.

“Thank you.” She murmured and he held her hand stronger than before.

He stopped at the hot chocolate booth, buying for both of them and they kept walking. They didn’t know when they intertwined their fingers or started to walk closer, sharing small smiles and more intimate conversations, although none of them wanted this moment to stop. The beautiful stage prepared for the local band to play was ready and people started to gather around. Hamilton insisted on buying some street food for both of them to share while they listened to the mayor talk and all the boring speeches.

More judgmental looks from people were shot at them and she recognized all of them, which hurt more than expected. When the music started to play, the man let his body loose, moving with the rhythm and she got closer to him, letting Lewis pass his hands around her waist and rest his head on her shoulder, looking at the stage. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in and out, feeling the things around her, the sounds and the smells; she knew herself too much to know she was close to a panic attack, not because of him, but all the situations since they got out of the car.

“Alright, love?” He whispered.

“Bit rubbish, but I’ll be fine.”

He hugged her closer, leaning his forehead against the side of her head, murmuring the lyrics and swaying in a slow pace. It was good, she still let her eyes closed, calming herself down; he was just the best to be around. She lowered her hands, putting on top of his and caressing slowly, the feeling of it was nice, his cold rings against the warm skin. At her head, the words of Rosie before the date repeated over and over, that it was an actual date and he didn’t invite her only as a friend. They only backed off from each other to clap when the band was finishing, now some regional singers would be up and people were more interested. The passionate looks between them were so intense that they took a time to see someone calling for her name; she got out of the trance, whispering ‘fuck’ a few times, before putting a fake smile.

“I thought you were dead or something, you vanished from earth.” the brunette smiled.

“I moved out. London.” She looked at Lewis, who held her hand. He was already in flight or fight mode.

“Wow, I never thought someone like you would do so…” The woman dragged the ‘o’ while looking at the driver. “Well in life. At least get someone as incredible as Sir Hamilton.”

The brunette’s partner approached them too, with whatever he went to grab to his noisy girlfriend. Oh shit. She felt like she was sixteen again, the guy who was already in university and went after a sixteen year old girl because women of age wouldn’t want to be with him, nevertheless got her knocked up by lying to her. She held Lewis’ hand tighter, looking at him and back at them.

“Hey! You.” The guy pointed at her. “It’s been a while.” He smiled, looking at his partner. “Hamilton! I haven't seen you since the big school reunion… It was what? In 2018.”

“Yeah, long time, mate.” He said, trying to maintain as neutral as possible.

“I didn’t think you would be with someone… You didn’t seem the relationship type of person.” The guy said, sipping on his drink. “Because, you know… Your… History.”

The driver was close to beating that man up, however he knew the girl holding his hand, almost crying, would not like the attention, so he got closer to her, running his thumb around her hand, trying to calm both of them down.

“I’m sorry! Uhm… Sometimes Patrick doesn’t shut up.” She tugged at him with his arm. “He likes to keep honest, right?” Of course she would stand by him. “I mean, you had quite a bad reputation…”

“You can say it.” The girl in a verge of tears said, taking a deep breath. “You kept your whole adolescence saying it. It won’t hurt you, I know that.”

“Fine.” The brunette crossed her arms. “I hope you really knew about this Sir.” She looked at Hamilton. “But this lovely girl with you was the biggest whore in our high school and it wasn’t just rumours, she even got knocked up and claimed that lost the baby. So if I was you I would stay away, she’s just into your money and body.”

Lewis didn’t answer, just pulled his girl away and walked to his car again, trying to not call as much attention as that horrible couple already tried. Meanwhile, her head was low, no response, just some sniffles; her head was full of different voices saying all the horrible words she heard during high school, the rumours and how they treated her in that time. It was the first time in years that she felt the need to drink herself into forgetting her own name. The dark-skinned man opened the car door for her, but before he did, he lifted her face with his fingers, seeing her eyes glistening from tears; his first reaction was to take her in his arms, hugging her gently, running his fingers through her hair as the woman held back her crying. He kept holding her for a few minutes, until she broke away from the hug, sitting on the car seat, looking at him and murmuring 'thank you', in reaction, he kissed her forehead, closing the door and going to the driver's side.

The drive home was quiet, only the radio filling the silence of the car. The worried glances from the driver left her even more cringed in her seat. When he parked in the garage of his family's house, he made a point of getting out of the car first to open the door for her and escort her to her cousin's house. She hadn't said a word yet, much less acted beyond walking, so he pressed the doorbell and saw Rosie's worried look settle on both of them, yet she hurried off to her room, not even saying goodbye to their date.

"What happened?" The older woman's expression was serious.

"People from her past. They were horrible, no matter how hard she tried to be nice.... I pulled her out of a conversation before it got any worse and brought her back." He bowed his head, he was disappointed in himself, he had planned a nice date and hoped to see her smiling, enjoying life and leaving the bad feelings the city left in her. "I should have protected her, but I didn't want to make a scene. I know she would have hated being the centre of attention again. More than she already would have been for hanging out with me."

"Lew..." Rosie put her hand on his shoulder. "I know you just wanted to have a nice night out with her.... I know what you see in her. Don't give up, just... The people in this town can be the worst."

"That's exactly why I left here." He muttered.

"Well, she commented on the Grinch movie before she went out with you."

"Oh! Yeah, in case the night was bad, but I imagine she doesn't want to watch it now."

"Come in. Go into the bedroom and ask about the movie. She doesn't want to be alone."

He walked slowly up the stairs, he was nervous, afraid of what her reaction would be to him being there, somehow invading her personal space. Lewis took a deep breath before knocking on the bedroom door at the end of the hall.

"Not now, Rosie..." The woman said in a tearful voice.

"It's me, love." He said low and the door was suddenly opened.

She had her make-up all smeared on, now wearing a sweatshirt twice her size, pyjama trousers and slippers. The pilot stood leaning against the door frame, watching her.

"I remember you talking about Grinch..." He watched her expression soften, making room for him to enter.

He removed his coat, cap and shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed. She handed him a pair of slippers, before sitting down next to him.

"I don't know where the TV control is." She said.

"So... Go clean your face, take that makeup off, even take a shower if you have to, and I'll get Rosie to help me find it. And also for her to make some tea, bring some snacks and we'll watch the movie together. The two of us or she can come watch it with us and we'll be here..." He wiped the tears that were falling from her face. "To be with you. You can cry, feel angry, feel sad.... We will listen and take you in."

"You don't exist." He laughed, a little confused. "Seriously, Lewis, you just took me in.... Even though people are telling me about my past."

"But I'm seeing you from now, a woman who bloody loves her job, her cousin to the point of coming to the place that gave her trauma to be with her, someone brave who never gave up on what she wanted. Someone amazing that people insist on hurting." She hugged him one more time before he got up and went after Rosie, who was anxiously waiting at the edge of the stairs.

"Alright?"

"Where's the TV remote?" He asked.

"In the second drawer in the desk."

"The three of us are going to watch Grinch." The man smiled. "We just need a cuppa and get some snacks."

Rosie chatted with her husband and kissed him goodnight before packing everything up by the pilot and heading to the room where her cousin was. They put the movie on the television, with the younger girl lying in the middle of the two of them. Rosie hugged her, running her fingers between strands of her hair, while Hamilton felt his hand being pulled by the girl, leaving her back against his right leg. He knew she wasn't paying that much attention, from feeling her fingers wander through his rings, so he squeezed account of her fingers, seeing the smile that appeared on the woman’s face.

They ended up sleeping all scrunched up together before the half of the movie.

….................................................

When morning came, Lewis left a note on the table next to her mobile phone, written.

"hey, had to go home, text me when you wake up. your cousin has my number. - Love, LH"

It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. She woke up around noon, alone in bed. The girl didn't want to get up as soon as she remembered all the humiliation of the day before, being called a slut in front of the man she was having a chance to have something with. She sighed loudly, getting up and going after her mobile phone, finding his note. A smile appeared on her lips, he was the best person she could have ever met.

After putting on some comfortable clothes, she went downstairs and made herself a cup of tea, soon hearing the front stall open and Bandit rushing over to her. The woman cracked a smile and took the boy in her arms, watching Rosie with the baby and Jamie with the groceries.

“Oh, look who’s up! Good morning.” The husband smiled, leaving the groceries on the table.

“Oy, Jams.” She smiled, getting her nephew a cup of water.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Rosie said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Better.” She sighed. “By the way, do you have his number?”

“Oh, someone is fancying Lewis?” Jamie asked, putting the groceries away.

“Maybe. But don’t be cheeky, we’re just trying our luck, okay?”

“Sure! But he’s buff! And tidy.”

“You’re so cheesy, baby.” Rosie kissed him on the cheek.

She got his number and by 2pm, she laid on the bed, texting him.

oi! It’s me ;)

lh: me who?

lh: jk

lh: good to know you went after my number

after yesterday?

i would be an arse if i didn’t

lh: ok

lh: you have a point

anyway

thanks for yesterday, even if it didn’t go as you planned

i’m happy

you’re the kindest

lh: anything for you

maybe we could go out again?

before new years?

lh: i would love to

but maybe a home date

nothing in public

not wanting to repeat yesterday's horror

lh: agreed

The day was very quiet, they stayed at home and prepared everything that would be needed in the evening and on the 25th, being with the couple was such a relaxing thing, they were amazing people who were always available for a chat and were grateful that she was so committed to helping them. During the afternoon she played with her nephew in the backyard, making a snowman, snow angels and a little snowball war. Even though the day marked more than one bad memory in her life, she would not let it hold her back, for she is living in her present and not in the past.

From afar, she could also see Lewis playing with his niece and nephew inside the house. The woman cracked a smile at that, waving to him as soon as the man noticed.

Meanwhile, Hamilton had just stopped playing with the children, making his way to the kitchen and watching his half-sisters chatting. He grabbed a cup of tea and sat down at the table, picking up his mobile phone and trying not to pay attention to their conversation until they decided to include him.

"So you went out with her?" One asked.

"We heard some rubbish things. Of you walking out of the middle of a conversation and pulling her along."

"And that you didn't want to hear what they were saying about her."

"They called her a slut." He replied, not taking his eyes off his phone.

"Well..."

"People change." He shrugged. "She didn't want to go out downtown. She hates Christmas and those stuff, but she still went with me and people were fucking arseholes to her." The pilot sighed, remembering the image from the night before, her running into the bedroom, her face wet from tears. "She doesn't deserve this nonsense hate that her old classmates have for her."

"You didn't spend the night at home." They changed the subject before he got too angry.

"Yeah? And?"

"You were with her?"

"Yes. Rosie and I lay with her and watched a movie, she slept cuddled in the middle of us." He took a deep breath, leaving his cup in the sink. "She's changed. She's a grown woman who still bloody suffers from everything she's done, but at least she's managed to get back on her feet and live her life."

He left the kitchen, going to the back of the house.

From then on, days 24 and 25 passed quickly, as did days 26 and 27 and soon Hamilton knew he should be heading back to London, there would be a New Year's Eve party with other drivers at Russell's house and he had been invited. An idea popped into his head and soon he was in front of Rosie's house, ringing the bell. The woman's husband answered.

"Lewis! You can come in! The girls are in the kitchen." He cracked a playful smile. "I know who you're after."

"Jam... Mate, I swear..." He cracked a smile too, slapping his shoulder twice before walking quickly to the kitchen.

When he saw the scene, his heart started beating faster. She was dirty with flour as she made cookies with her nephew, her smile was huge and the boy's laughter could be heard from afar. Rosie was holding her daughter as she turned up the music. The Londoner was having her movie moment, the soft laughter, the wonderful family and a man who loved her watching from afar.

"Oi! Am I interrupting something?" The dark-skinned man said, walking slowly.

"You can come in!" Rosie said with a smile, as the other woman tried to clean herself up.

"Can we talk?" He said as he got close to the younger woman; she removed her apron and they walked out into the yard through the kitchen door, the tension in her could be seen from afar, so he held both of her hands, standing very close to her. "Calm down, it's nothing bad."

"I always hope for the worst."

"With me, it's always for the best." They both smiled before he took a deep breath and looked at her. "I'm going back to London tomorrow, I need to sort some things out.... But that's beside the point. I've been invited to a New Year's Eve party by my teammate and I was wondering if you wanted to go as my date."

"Oh. Lewis, that's... I don't know if I have the right clothes for the occasion!" She laughed softly, placing her hand on his cheek. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! I want to introduce you to people who will love you, who will treat you nicely and see that you deserve nothing but the best." He put his hands around her waist. "And don't worry about clothes that I can manage."

"I'd love to go with you." The woman kissed his cheek. "I'd have to talk to Rosie, though. But I don't think she'd be mad, she's the best and as soon as she can, she's going to spend a weekend in London with me."

"I can't wait to see you in a gala dress. You’ll look so lush." He murmured, bringing his face closer with hers. It was an automatic movement, like muscle memory, their noses already brushing against each other from their faces being so close. A little more and they'd be with their lips together, however a loud Rosie saying that the cookies would burn broke the mood, making them both laugh before heading back inside.

Hamilton was invited to spend the day at their house, which he didn't refuse as he felt very comfortable with his family. The two's passionate glances could be seen from afar by Rosie and James, who were smiling, as if they were playing cupid. They might have spent the whole day on the outskirts of the house, without revisiting other places in the town or buying different things at the local market, but for them, they didn't have to, because each other's company was already enough.

When Hamilton left, the designer was cornered by her cousin and her husband - who were certainly far more invested in everything than she was.

"You guys spent all day together and no kiss? Nothing?" Rosie said in exasperation.

"It's just that we spent the whole day with you guys."

"You could have disappeared and we wouldn't have given a shit, you're a couple in love!" Exclaimed James.

"We're not a couple."

"Yet."

She laughed low, running her hand over her face. "Anyway... I'm leaving tomorrow." She could see the sadness in their gaze. "I'm going back with Lewis, he invited me to a dinner party with his friends. We're spending the new year together." Their reaction was squealing and hugging the girl.

"Then we'll pack your bag and tomorrow morning you'll be waiting for him and you can be at peace together in London. Without horrible people and privacy." The older woman put her hands

on her cousin's shoulders, pushing her up to her room.

…

December 31, 2022. Last day of the year. She was sitting on the floor, the day started badly, she managed to break a plate when she went to make breakfast, cutting her palm. Then the shower wasn't getting hot, then the heel she had separated to wear that night, broke just as she decided to test it. And to make matters worse, it had been 5 years since she had drunk herself to the point where she couldn't stand up and tried to take her own life. Her head was leaning against the bed, mobile phone in hand, part of her wanted to cancel tonight's plans and hide under the covers until the first of next year. Slowly she dialled the pilot's number, listening to the sound of the call until he answered.

“Hey, love. Alright?”

“No. Everything went wrong.” She murmured.

He was going out with his fellow driver friends, they really needed someone to pick their outfits for tonight, however, when he heard her voice, so low and weepy, he walked from them to a quieter place.

“What happened?”

“I cut my hand, my shower stopped working, the heel I was going to wear tonight also broke and to top it all off, today is not a day with very good memories…”

“Hey… This must be very frustrating.” He said in a soft tone.

“It is.” She sobbed, passing a hand in her face to wipe the tears away.

“Okay, how about… I can get a new shoe for you and I can also pick you up… So you’ll get ready with me for the party.”

“That sounds good… I live close to Green Park station.”

“I’m at Picadilly… Pretty close, so as soon as we finish here, I’ll pick you up. Okay, love?”

“Okay.” She smiled.

“Because they don't have any fashion sense.” They chuckled together before hanging up.

She took a deep breath before getting up again, looking at herself in the mirror, even if she was going to go and get ready at Lewis' house, she couldn't look like that. Slowly, she packed her make-up and an extra outfit into a backpack, then put on a nicer outfit; she also washed her face and put on some perfume - it didn't matter if she was going to shower later and would have to reapply, what mattered was to be smelling good for him. He asked if she could go to the shop he was in. He wanted to know if the heel would fit her, so he walked there. As that boutique catered to more famous people, everything was more discreet and safe, no one could see from the outside what was going on inside, so neither of them would have to worry about people snooping in their lives.

She walked in and was impressed at how beautiful the place was, even feeling underdressed there. Hamilton walked over to her and greeted her with a hug, leaving a kiss on her cheek. He led her over to where some of his friends were, introducing her to the others, before getting straight to the point about which shoe she thought was the best. They took a while to choose which one would be ideal, but they managed to agree on a model.

When they arrived at his mansion, the man took her directly to the large bathroom of his master bedroom, leaving her free to shower and get ready while he went to his wardrobe, which also had a bathroom.

Later, when he was ready, he went to where she was, getting jaw dropped to see her, the purple dress had been perfect on her body, her hair was loose and she wore the jewels that he had separated especially for her. Noticing that he was watching her, she cracked a silly smile, walking over to him and putting her arms around his neck, thanking him for everything and that she had no words to say how amazing he was, from welcoming her to being willing to introduce his friends to her. They drove off with his driver, so the journey was quiet to George Russell's mansion.

As she entered, she felt the distinctive atmosphere of the place, people had no idea who she was - and that made her so relieved. During the first few hours, she was introduced to his friends, made short conversations and took a few sips of water. She was more focused on how he introduced her, as his partner and also said how amazing her work was. When he reached his friends, now mostly with their respective girlfriends, she felt calmer, seeing other women also taking the same seat she was in. The girls joined in and the bomb of questions - completely respectful, began.

"Where did you two meet?"

"What's he like?"

"He is the one who fell in love first?

The personal questions were answered, but every time it got into the relationship thing, she just said they were taking it slow, taking their time.

Meanwhile, Hamilton was being questioned by his friends - and even Toto had entered the conversation. They were already more playful, wanting to know more spicy aspects. The driver laughed at the haste they were in to find out - besides having Sebastian Vettel with a 'where did I go wrong?' expression, which earned even more laughs.

"We haven't even kissed yet." The older man confessed.

Even more questions surfaced.

"We haven't had a moment together... That's all. I want to take things the right way, she deserves only the best from me."

"And that's how you win a woman, boys." Vettel added and the group burst into laughter.

It was almost midnight, everyone with glasses of champagne except her, at first Lewis hadn't noticed, but the moment he saw it, he handed his own over and was ready to look for another.

"I don't drink, Lew." She said close to his ear.

"Sorry." He took the cup back.

"Five years. Today." The pilot turned his face close to hers, surprised.

"Wow…"

"Actually, it's January first, but I prefer to count it as today."

Then he quickly left his cup with a waiter, putting his hands around her waist, leaving a kiss on her shoulder. The action left her confused, it was okay in case he wanted to drink, it wasn't his problem.

"I'm not going to drink. I want to be able to enjoy your kiss."

Before she could answer, the countdown was on.

5

4

3

2

1

Happy New Year!

She didn't wait for him to speak or do anything, she just pulled her body against his, bringing their lips together in a passionate kiss, passing her tongue into his lips until he opened his mouth to reciprocate it properly, letting their tongues move together in a rhythm. His hands went to her waist, caressing the spot and pulling her even closer. The kiss ended with little pecks and goofy smiles.

“I waited so long for this.” He murmured against her ear.

“Me too…”

They ended up calling for an early night, saying they were too tired and she had to work the next day - it was a lie, she would only be back on January 2nd. Soon they were laying in bed, cuddling.

“I’m proud of you.” She looked at him, a bit confused. “Five years is a long time.”

“Thanks…”

“There’s something else?”

“What?”

“About it. You can tell me, or not, only if you feel comfortable.”

“So…” She sighed, sitting on the bed. “I was an alcoholic, and it was getting worse, my family… Didn’t care, except for Rosie. I’ve lost my job, my partner and was losing my flat. Let’s say that at the end of 2017 was horrible for me. And with my drunk mind… I thought it would be better if I wasn’t around anymore.” He sat up, putting both of his hands on her face, looking the most worried she had ever seen. “After that… I decided to get clean, mostly because of Rosie, she said that I should give life a chance and that everyone who did bad for me would get their consequences. Then I went to rehab, started studying what I loved, made goals. It was hard, still it is… There were some days that I just wanted a sip, but I knew I shouldn’t, so I resorted to other coping mechanisms and they weren’t healthy, at all.” She lifted the shirt he gave her to wear, showing her inner thighs. “But I’m also clean… Almost two years. I really put my life back together. Not that I don’t have bad days or sometimes things may trigger me… Mostly, I’m fine, on my meds, clean and sober.” She didn't notice when tears started to fall, nor when he was hugging her, stroking her hair and leaving light kisses on her face. Her eyes closed, enjoying his show of affection.

"I'm proud of you, for the amazing woman you've become and that you've managed to get back on your feet." He kissed her forehead, before placing a quick kiss on her lips. "You're amazing and I'm going to give you the world, if it's possible, I'll go to the moon and back to show you how amazing I think you are."

"I... I'm completely in love with you." She admitted, surrendering to the embrace and causing them to fall onto the bed. The woman ran her hands through his tresses, soon beginning to trace the tattoos she could reach, as she watched his smile grow wider and wider. The pilot's hands hugged his waist, caressing the spot. "And I hope you know that I'm going to do everything I can to be by your side. Every race I can go to, I'll be there, if not I'll be here, watching on TV. Regardless of whether you win or lose, I will always be with open arms and welcome you with kisses." She left several kisses along his bare collarbone. "Because life isn't just about winning, it's about the journey."

"I really want you to meet the rest of my family." He murmurs. "They will love you."

"And you need to meet my friends." She laughed, starting a kiss.

This time, their lips were more desperate for each other's touch, like it was urgent, like the only purpose of life was to have this passionate kiss. Their tongues were moving in a unique rhythm as his hands roamed her back and she held his shoulders tightly. Hamilton's touches became lower and lower, reaching down to her thighs, where he touched them tenderly, as if they were fleeting and he wanted to remember that sensation forever.

Her kisses descended to his neck, which he responded with a low moan, grabbing the other's waist, pressing against his body. Her legs were on the side of his body, pinning him against the mattress.

"Baby... If we keep this up, I swear... I don't know if I'll hold on." He pulled her face so they could look at each other. "I don't want to push you into anything, I want it to be the best way possible."

"Okay. I agree." She cracked a smile, getting off his lap and cuddling up next to him. She left small kisses on his chest, before rubbing her face against his body.

"What?"

"Thank you. For thinking of me above sex."

"Always. You're my Christmas miracle."

"Damn it, Lewis!" She started laughing uncontrollably. "I still hate Christmas you know, don't you? You just showed me that I don't have to hate that town as much as I do, even if the people are awful."

"But..." He couldn't stop laughing either. "Okay, that was pretty dumb."

"But at least... It was you being my arse."

They continued to laugh for a few more minutes, until tiredness hit and they fell asleep like that, hugging each other so tightly as they were afraid of losing the other in the middle of the night.

Before Valentine's Day even came, he was already posting pictures of her, with declarations of love, it didn't matter to anyone why they were together and who she was. They were them and no one had the power to intervene in their little bubble of happiness. At the beginning of the season, he took her to her first race, where she met more people from his world and was even more in awe of how amazing he was. It seemed like every day she was impressed with new parts of him, he was more like a little box of good surprises.

"I never thought I'd be here, in this position, watching a race and cheering for my boyfriend, but... Lewis changed me. And I'm very grateful for that." She commented to Angela - who approved of the relationship before they even had their first kiss, not least because she loved that her best friend was happy.

"You've changed him too. For the better." Her words caused the designer to fill her eyes with tears. The pilot was ready to put on his helmet and go to his car, but he stopped to give her a kiss, yet he found her all weepy.

"What happened, honey?"

"Blame her." She said with a smile, pointing at Angela. "She said some nice words to me."

He giggled, leaving a kiss on the girl's lips, before putting on his helmet.

"I believe in you." She murmured before he got into the car.

[friesian]

my father is dead and i couldn't be happier.

the following is a sort of. reconciliation/vent post since i just got the news a few hours ago that my father died, and i finally feel like i can sort of talk about everything that happened to me as a child. for the first time. without the threat of potential violence. so. tw for neglect, abuse, parental death and honestly just. a lot. if you don't like the most stereotypical 'bad dad' shit, don't read this post.

my father was a cruel man. it was only until recently i was informed that my father used to actually shake me as a baby, no more than a few days old. when i was a few months old, he used to do the same to watch my 'funny reactions' and had to be actively reprimanded by aunt and mother in order to get him to stop lest i die a very sudden death.

when i was a little kid, my father i guess got this idea in his head that i was a little innocent flower and that if anything touched me, that'd be it. i'd be sullied. i'd be dirtied. somehow 'impure'. mind you, my father wasn't a religious man. really, honestly, the opposite. i wasn't allowed to talk about religion or god, explore spirituality, really have 'faith'. this would earn me hostile looks, a loud scolding, or called stupid. this also might displace onto my mom, who received it much worse than me.

when i was 7, my father made the move to go somewhere out into the deep west virginia mountains where i would never be in danger. except by him. we moved to a place where the closest store was 45 minutes by car, getting home from school was 35 minutes-- not counting school bus routes, that was up to 2-3 hours-- and there was not a single neighbor that could see the house nor talk to us. we were alone. for good. for over 11 years of my life i was alone in a house with a man who grew actively more and more hostile to being in that house. as i aged, tried to be a teenager, explore my gender, sexuality, ect. it was all shut down. my computer-- my only lifeline-- was bugged with spyware that allowed him to look at my screen and take control of anything i was doing. a vivid memory of mine is when i used to write fanfiction of innocent teenager things. kissing, holding hands, professions of love, the usual-- nothing explicit. at some point i was caught and had my computer thrown and i was screamed it. i could only run to my room and cry, and hope i wasn't chased. this left me with no sense of privacy, as any computer or technology i ever got passed through him, and as he was a engineer for networking, most things were bugged by him first as much as i tried to remove them. my mom suffered similarly to i, both of us being called slurs and having things thrown at us for existing in his radius. we walked on eggshells. we had no room to breathe. if we weren't in his general space, we were yelled at for avoiding him. if we were actually there, we were yelled at for laughing or even breathing too loud. there was no right answer. my friends never wanted to visit because of him, or he would often get mad at their parents for being 'flakes' or 'untimely', leading for me to be berated about my choice of friend. i wasn't allowed to go out unless it was with 'other girls', and i didn't have many friends to begin with due to the many social problems i faced due to his neglect. i grew up in that house, with many other issues i can't even begin to list, but i grew up and left as soon as i could, and didn't really do much. mostly just coasted by after dropping out of college that he pressured me to be in, lest i end up homeless. my mom divorced him shortly after i left due to being threatened with a gun, and at that point i was pretty sure he was officially off the deep end. this is sort of my 'getting it off my chest' moment as i was never able to speak out about what i faced in any regard due to him consistently monitoring my online presence. for all i know, he could've known about this blog-- choosing to hold onto it for some sort of legal proceeding as he had done to my mother. he tracked her car, recorded her calls, did everything he could to fuck her over. his father did something similar to him back in the 90s, and i needed to avoid it at all costs.

he never got the chance now. i never felt like i had a father, more like an angry dragon that guarded a tower with someone who didn't wanna be there. some sort of 'king' that transformed into a dragon, i suppose. but, i remember relating a lot to the imagery of people trapped in towers by beasts. i wanted to make a comic about it at one point. 11 years of solidarity does a lot to a motherfucker.

to this hour, i haven't shed a tear. i cheered and celebrated, put on my mask as i'm talking to the funeral home people, family, his friends, whatever it is. i've just been blaise and calm. i have to go back to my 'tower' this weekend and see it for the first time in years, now with the memory of my father dead seeped in those walls.

it's been a relief i didn't know i needed, but that house haunts me with the horrors that went on in it. i guess this is sort of my testimony to his life. i refuse to have a funeral. i refuse to have a memorial. he's being cremated and disposed of as soon as i can. i can already tell what little remains of his side of the family has an issue with it, but i don't care. they didn't live the life me and my mom had, and they never will now. for what it's worth, somehow, even though i was forged in fires that i don't think any man should go through-- it made me a more hardened and aware person. you get time to think when you're alone for 11 years. a lot of time to see emotions, patterns, understand, and just pick things apart. he never knew me, elf, he knew my dead name. and i'm thankful for that. i came out a good man all things considered, i have my flaws and issues, but who doesn't. but at least i never was like him. here's to getting out of the tower.

[skyrim-forever]

Day 5: Gentle

A/N: Hey everyone! This entry will include pregnancy, totally understand if that's not your thing and you want to skip. But if you're interested Theodora goes to see Danica Pure-Spring due to what she thinks to be her years of fighting catching up to her. This one kind of got away from me and it's 1600 words XD Tagging @tes-summer-fest

The journey to Morrowind had proven to be more difficult than she anticipated. On paper it seemed straightforward, get to Windhelm and take the Northern Maiden. Whiterun had only been meant to be a quick stop on the way there, however as she got closer to the city her health began to fail. First was general exhaustion, even riding on horseback was tiring and then she lost her appetite. The mere smell of food was enough to make her vomit. Perhaps the battle with Alduin had left her more damaged than she initially thought, or if it was the years of fighting that had finally caught up to her. Theodora knew that she’d never make it to Solstheim in this state, let alone face whatever was waiting for her there. 

Praise be to Kynareth for having a temple in the city. She regretted not seeing Danica sooner. 

“Hello Dragonborn, what brings you to the Temple today?”

“Hi Danica, I’m not feeling well. I was wondering if I have some old injuries that are causing problems.” 

“I see.” The Priestess gestures for her to follow her, leading her to a bench tucked away from the main hall. “Can you please describe what you have been experiencing ?” Theodora takes a breath, the exhaustion is beginning to hit. 

“Well, I find I’m getting tired much easier, I can’t do the same amount of travel as I could even a few weeks ago. And Divines, even the smell of food makes me nauseous.  I’m wondering if I have an internal injury, I haven’t gotten proper medical treatment for quite some time now so I wouldn’t be surprised if something is much more damaged than I originally thought..” She lightly laughs “I’m not great at recovery.”  Danica nods along as she speaks. 

“Have you noticed any changes in your body? Perhaps needing to relieve yourself more often?”

“Yes! I’m up every two hours at night. I had forgotten about that, just thought I was just starting to get older.” 

“Hmmmm. When was your last bleed?” 

“My, um” Theodora stops mid-sentence, surely Danica wasn’t implying that she was…? Anxiety starts building inside of her. Relax, she is just trying to cover everything. “I don’t remember. I figured it was all the stress keeping it away.”

“I see.” The two women sit in silence for a moment, tears begin to well up in her eyes as the gravity of the situation sets in. Pregnant the word repeats over and over in her mind.  

“It is okay Theodora.” The Priestess holds her hands in hers. “There are treatments available if you need them.”

“Thank you, could I have a little time to myself. I need to think before I decide anything.”

“Of course, I’ll be over there when you need me.”

The tears came out in full force, snot coming from her nose, and loud sobs. Why wasn’t I more careful? You stupid bitch how could you let this happen? She wasn’t fit to be a mother, what did she even know about mothers? There was the threat of Solstheim to deal with, how could she do that with a child? While pregnant? Then came the thoughts of what if the baby looks more like Ondolemar than me?What kind of place is this for a half Imperial half Altmer child? She lays her head back against the paneling of the Temple, eyes shut in an attempt to stop crying. 

The thoughts then begin to morph, perhaps it is not all bad. She may never see Ondolemar again, but she could still have a small piece of him. He wasn’t really gone now, there’d be proof of their time together. And maybe that was enough. She had been praying to Akatosh for something, anything to help her keep going. Maybe the Divines were not so cruel after all. She could do with her child what she wished her mother had gotten to do with her. She’d tell them they were born of love, that they could do anything, they’d be the Dragonborn’s child. And no matter what, that fact would give them protection. She had more than enough money and Theodora had been looking for what to do with the rest of her life. Being Thane in nearly every hold had proven not to be as glamorous as it originally sounded. She is torn. 

Returning to the main temple hall, she speaks to Danica.

“I’m going to need a few days to think about it.”

“Absolutely, think it through. Whatever you decide, the choice is fully yours.”

“Thank you, Danica, truly thank you.”

She spends the night at the Bannered Mare staring at the ceiling and thinking through every possible scenario. She could go into hiding, maybe even move back to Cyrodiil or as far as the coast of High Rock. raise the child somewhere no one knew her, maybe in a large city so seeing a mixed child wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. But could she leave the friends she did have here? She was sure Camilla would understand, she was the only one who knew about her relationship with Ondolemar. Wanting kids herself, Theodora couldn’t imagine her thinking less of her. All her thoughts seemed to involve how to have the baby, not if she should. Maybe that was a sign enough. Eventually her eyes grow heavy and sleep overtakes her. 

Dreams were normal for Theodora, mainly nightmares, but dreaming has become a place of old memories. In her dreams her father and Uncle Elo still breathe. Aunt Rhiannon still smiles. They were all still at the house in Anvil, and sometimes even the city itself was thriving, flourishing as it was when her father was young. This was one such dream. She is in the kitchen when she hears a baby’s crying coming from upstairs. Instinctively, she follows it. Through the house’s winding hallways she grows closer to the source of the sound, now hearing a woman’s voice.

“Shhhhhh, it’s okay, shhhhhh.” It’s coming from the storage room, the one that had been beside her room. The door is partially cracked open, a sliver of sunlight shines on the dark hardwood. When she opens the door fully, a woman is there. She looks like her paintings, long curly dark hair, warm skin, wearing a long white dress and brown belts. Everything is the same save for the grey streaks in her hair that she never got to grow in life. Before Theodora can stop it, a word she’s never uttered leaves her mouth. 

“Mom?” Kassandra turns to her, clutching a small golden bundle in her arms.

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to calm him down, he woke up from his nap early.” She rocks the baby softly. “I think he wants his mama.” Theodora’s arms open naturally and her mother places the baby, him, in her arms. 

“Here, support his head like this. Be gentle.” She takes her hand and adjusts it behind his head. “Good, good, you got it.” She can see him better now, his small pointy ears and brown eyes. She takes a brief glance up, brown like her mother’s eyes. “Oh isn’t he sweet? You’re so lucky.”

“I am.” She rocks him slowly. “But mom I’m scared.” Tears start coming out of her and her mother wraps her arms around her. 

“I know dear, I know. But you’ll be okay. You can do this, you have done so many hard things.”

“But what if…” Kassandra stops her mid-sentence. 

“Don’t worry about what ifs, you can’t predict what will happen. What do you want?” Amidst the tears Theodora looks down, back at her son. His crying has ceased and he smiles at her. 

“I want him.”

A crash of thunder jolts her awake, as her hands touch her face she feels tears, she had actually been crying. It was not just a dream. Never before had she dreamt of her mother, let alone talked to her. As more tears come, this time of joy, she feels healed. The little girl in her who never got to cry to her mom finally got her mother’s advice. Though she did not know through which mechanisms had made it possible, she knew that was in fact her mother she spoke to. And if her mother believed in, she could. 

Seemingly having forgotten what time it was, Theodora rushed to the Temple. With a swift knock on the door, Danica answers. 

“I’m keeping it.”

“Congratulations.” Danica rubbed her face and smiled at her. “You’ll have to be gentle with yourself these next few months. Based on your symptoms I suspect you’re around 6 weeks.” She takes a piece of parchment and writes something down before handing it to Theodora. 

“You’ll want to start taking these herbs, they will help you with tolerating food. Once you’re six months along take these ones.” She points to a small list of plants, some of which Theodora had never heard of. “They’ll help prepare you for birth.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Oh, and no more drinking. Not until you’ve finished breastfeeding.” Oh that’s right she thought, pregnant women famously can’t drink. She hadn’t been sober for longer than a few days since she was a teen, this was going to be a challenge. 

“Alright, I understand.”

There is life back in her, both figuratively and literally. Deciding to still go to Morrowind, she figures it would be best to be pregnant away from prying eyes. She has a few  months still to make progress on the Miraak issue. Perhaps it was naive to think she could still adventure pregnant but Theodora already felt stronger. She has someone to be strong for.  

[theweirdgoodbyes]

Last Line Challenge

Thanks for the tag @ventresses!

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you like)

——this is a snippet from my fake dating au for luztoye week that is nowhere near done but has taken me hostage——

“I gotta,” Joe takes a small sip of his coffee, shivering as the cold liquid hits his tongue. He prefers hot, but it’s not like this guy knows that and he’s not gonna complain about a free drink, “hmm, I gotta know what this is about before I commit to anything. ‘Cause as of right now, I think you’re over the hill and far away.”

George throws back his head and laughs like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever heard, a loud, genuine thing that has Joe biting his lip to keep from smiling. He looks back at Joe, smile still glued to his face as his chuckles subside.

“You’re not wrong, pal. So, uh,” George sniffs, quickly wiping at his nose with the back of his hand before pointing at Joe with both index fingers, “let’s start with a little background. I’m one of ten kids, ranking in at number six but by far the best looking.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joe mutters, shaking his head. Although he never liked being an only child and always longed for a sibling or two, he couldn’t imagine having nine. George just grins, those fingers wagging in unison.

“Catholics love two things: Mother Mary and fucking without a condom. Anyway, all my siblings are married or engaged and my mother’s been on my ass for years about settling down. ‘Georgie’,” George says in a falsetto so realistic Joe has to blink once, twice, before it registers that the words came out of the man’s mouth, “‘I’m worried you’re gonna die alone. Why won’t you give me grand babies?’ Woman’s already got sixteen, mind you.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I know. Anyway, at Christmas I got so damn fed up with her pestering I finally came out, not like she didn’t already know. ‘Ma, I’m gay’. I think that’s the end of it and she’ll leave me alone.” George slams his palms down on the table, forcing Joe to reach out and grab his coffee before it tips over from the impact. “Nope! Now she’s pestering me about when I’m gonna get a boyfriend. And she’s got my sisters texting me about it, those turncoats. So, Easter rolls around, and she’s so far up my ass I could just about shit her out. ‘Georgie’,” he says in that falsetto again, “‘God loves the gays. But you gotta get married to make it right’. So I started a little lie. Said I was seeing somebody. Picked the most common name out there and said his name is Joe, y’know, Joe Shmo who likes to blow. He’s a good Catholic boy like myself, he doesn’t live around here, and that’s the end of it.”

“But it’s not the end of it,” Joe says slowly, unsure if he wants to know more. If he was feeling more sane, or wasn’t about to get one hell of a fucking fine for not paying off the ticket in time, he would have grabbed his crutches and been out the door by now. But there was something about George that was almost hypnotic, making the world around him fade into a blur, only able to focus on this stupid yet charming man before him. Joe takes another gulp of his coffee for strength, hardly registering the cold temperature anymore.

“It sure as shit ain’t. This woman, my God, she’ll never be satisfied. She wants pictures. She wants details. She wants to meet him. You know what the problem is? Guy doesn’t fucking exist.” George takes a sip of his own coffee, iced like Joe’s and double the size, impish brown eyes glinting with something Joe isn’t sure he wants to understand, “Until now.”

Tagging @lamialamia @bast0gne @antigonenikk and anyone else who wants to do it heehee

[chi-ow-hua]

"How'd you find out about being a demigod?"

Will frowns "Didn't I already tell you? You know...in. When. Uhm-"

Nico laughs, releasing Will from his misery - a rather merciful move for a child of the underworld. Will is so obviously working on being more open; efforts that are as adorable as they are painful and never fail to make Nico feel all disgustingly gooey. Will is struggling but he is trying. Because Nico asked. All his life he has taught himself to only take care of others, his every instinct begging to downplay and soothe and ignore instead of confront and acknowledge or - gods forbid - admit it out loud. But Will is never one to do things by halves; never would've been able to wrestle so many demigods from the unforgiving grips of death, otherwise; and definitely wouldn't have followed Nico into literal Tartarus. So he does it anyways. Even if he refuses to give himself the same forgiveness and grace he extends to his patients.

Will may never believe it when he tells him that he is one of the strongest demigods in Camp, but Nico means it. So what if Will isn't the strongest fighter? He doubts Clarisse could ever be so openly vulnurable without having an aneurysm or giving into the urge to stab herself with her spear. Besides, it's not like he has to be. That's what Nico is here for, after all.

"You told me that Stymphalian Birds were involved. And that there was a turd in the subway. Not exactly a very thorough account" And then, because Will is still used to thinking in black and white and extremes and has the stupid tendency to take everything as a personal failure: "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I won't be mad."

(Will is working on that, too. "I feel like this is different. From my other friendships." he'd said. "Bad different or good different?" "Good." Nico nodded, because he felt it, too. "I don't think I'm in love with you" he'd answered then, because that was probably the truth as well.

So they kissed, because they both liked it; and they cuddled, because they both needed it; and they went on dates, because dates were fun; and they were obnoxiously affectionate when it was just them and Will's siblings, because their reactions were always hilarious; and they both made an effort, because it was worth it.

And Will, who had always needed words and files and terms and diagnostics couldn't explain it in a way that made sense. Whatever they had, it wasn't black or white. Sometimes it felt like it was on a completely different color spectrum, as even shades of gray didn't seem to quite cover it. But he was learning that that was okay, too. It was good, even. Not good enough, just good.)

So this is their dynamic now: Nico trying to get Will out of his shell without being too overbearing while Will (that son of a bitch) is a stubborn asshole about it. Sometimes, when Nico needs to go and take a walk before he either strangles the son of Apollo or says something he doesn't mean, he wonders how Will could've ever fallen for him. Nico is all too aware that he was probably even worse in the beginning - sometimes the guilt of it eats him alive, now that he is on the receiving end of it. But then there are moments like these, and Nico thinks he almost gets it.

No, the irony is not lost on him. And Kayla sure finds it absolutely hilarious, all "and so the giver finally becomes the receiver" and "a taste of your own medicine, mister doctor". Still, it's all too easy to slip back into their old roles. Will's position as head medic certainly doesn't help: Nico has lost count of how many times he's seriously considered threatening the entire camp to just not get hurt for one day that really can't be that fucking hard before realizing that promising serious bodily harm would be rather counter-productive in this scenario. He would be a huge hypocrite if he said that he wasn't part of the problem, too. It's all too tempting to blame his own less-than-stellar moments on everyone around him and hide behind his person to escape the consequences. But they know that they need to learn to open up and rely on themselves and each other if they want this (whatever that is) to work, so they keep trying.

Will nods. "No". Then he frowns, shaking his head. "No, I mean. Yeah. Sure. I guess I'm just curious why you're asking"

Nico shrugs, raising a brow. Because it's you, he doesn't say, because Will isn't the only one who has trouble saying the important things out loud. Besides, judging by his flaming cheeks, the message was received anyway.

And there really isn't much more to it. Of course he knows that most stories are rather traumatic, which is why he doesn't feel comfortable asking the other campers about it. He is somewhat aware of some of the arrivals - mainly from bragging Ares children, but he doesn't trust those as far as he can throw them. He has heard Sherman changing his story at least three times; the number of monsters chasing him magically multiplicating every time he recounts it. Either that, or they are Percy Jackson, which is its own category entirely.

Still, he can't help but feel that losing over half a century in a time-stopping casino is on a bit of a different level. Even for Percy Jackson standards. He is just so incredibly curious about what an average demigod experience is like. A curiosity that only grows as he becomes more and more aware of how his own life is definitely not that.

Will is always his go-to on that front. He never judges or laughs at Nico for asking questions, no matter how odd or stupid. It also makes it incredibly easy to mess with him, especially now that they are working extra hard on open communication and all that shit. Nico practices constraint, though. Mostly.

"Okay, so. This actually happened a few years before New York." Will's voice gets that nostalgic tone that always appears whenever he talks about his life before Camp. He's relaxed, now, all loose-limbed compared to the beginning of their conversation. Nico leans against him, own body relaxing in response. "I get these headaches sometimes, you know. Never figured out why. Ibu never worked. But one time I took Paracetamol and it just. Stopped."

Nico nods encouragingly. Will looks at him expectantly. It takes Nico a moment to realize that... that was the story. He straightens (ha, as if) up again. "Wait, that's it?" Maybe he should reassess his whole 'Will's life as the blueprint average demigod experience'-thing.

"Well, yeah." Will looks irritated, glaring at Nico and the shoulder he'd been leaning on. "Prick", Nico mutters, nontheless going back to their previous position. Will flicks at his nose in response. He doesn't have to look at Will to know he's wearing one of his stupidly triumphant smirks. "I was curious as to why paracetamol worked where ibuprofen had failed me so many times before. And do you know what I found?"

"A forgotten ancient myth about how Paracetamol was created by your dad?" Will flicks Nico's nose. Again. He can admit that it was probably deserved, though.

"No, stupid. I found out that we don't know how Paracetamol works. Isn't that insane? We take the pill. The pill works. BUT WE DON'T KNOW HOW IT DOES ITS THING!" He has a manic glint in his eyes that speaks of many sleepless nights devoted to exactly this question.

"So....you immediately went from that to greek gods are real? Just like that?"

"Obviously." Nico glares. Will has the nerve to smile at him. Fucking prick. As much as he complains about how impossible it is to know whether Nico is being sarcastic or serious, Will is infinitely worse. Especially because most people don't know to expect it.

Nico punches him, because sometimes fists speak louder than words, and Will just laughs. Nico moves away before he can get his nose flicked for a third time. It almost makes him miss the times people were still scared of him (that's a lie.)

"Okay, no." Will is still laughing, as if he hadn't just survived a blow by the Ghost King himself. Idiot. "But when Maron explained about gods and monsters and all that mess I remembered paracetamol and thought: yeah, that makes sense. Like, of course it's magic. You know?"

Nico just shakes his head fondly, once again stuck somewhere between amusement, endearment and just plain confusion. "Sure. Of course."

[onestormeynight]

It Was A Normal Day

"You did not, Nellie!"

"I did, that's why I wasn't in class the last hour!"

"Stop lying, I don't like it."

"I'm NOT, Ida!"

"Girls, stop, what happened?" Rosie asked, grabbing their attention.

"Nellie wasn't in the last hour of class yesterday and she won't tell me why!"

"I DID tell her why, Mom, she doesn't believe me!"

"Okay, how about you tell me, then?"

Nellie sighed and ate her last bite of toast and eggs. "It was recess and I heard Antella calling Ida a four-eyes behind her back to her stupid friends. I didn't like that, so I told her so. She said it again, so I said better four eyes than blind to how wretched you are. She said she didn't care and then they started chanting four-eyes, four-eyes, four-eyes." She stopped and tapped her fork a few times.

"And?" Rosie said, prompting her daughter to continue, afraid of where this was going.

"I punched her in the face. And then I pulled her hair. I may have kicked her when teacher pulled me off, but that was an accident, Mom, I promise. I didn't mean to kick her."

"Oh, you just meant to fight your classmate?"

"Well, yeah."

Rosie tried, she really did, not to laugh, but she couldn't help it. Her daughter, terrified of leaving the house because she might get hurt, had no problems socking another child in the face over her sister. Rosie couldn't believe it.

"And no one called me?" She finally choked out. "Nellie, you can't hit other kids, even if they're being mean. It's not right. Violence doesn't solve your problems. Sometimes people are just mean, it's best to ignore them or tell an adult if it's really bad."

"You hit that mean old lady at the pool."

Rosie paled. "Oh. So you did see that."

Both twins nodded. "It was very loud," Ida said.

And I'd do it again, she thought.

"Mommies mess up sometimes, girls. I'm not perfect. That was not right on my part. I wish you hadn't seen that."

"Seen what?" Robin asked, kissing his wife on the cheek and sitting at the table. "What happened?"

"The girls witnessed me hitting Lily, and Nellie here took that to mean she can hit her classmates. Did you know about this?"

"Oh, yeah, they called yesterday. I told them to just put her in detention for the rest of the day and we'd handle it at home."

"But you never told me."

Robin shrugged. "You were in work mode and I'd handled it. We talked about it, didn't we, Nellie?"

Nellie nodded. "We don't start fights. We just finish them."

Rosie rubbed her face. "No fighting. Period. What are you looking at, Nellie?"

"My grandmas. Grandma Blair is so pretty. Grandma Penny, too." She looked at Rosie over her shoulder. "Can you tell us about Grandma Blair tonight?"

Rosie had to cough past a lump in her throat. "Of course, Lovey. Tonight. But right now, both of you need to get dressed and work on your homework. C'mon. Move."

While the girls worked on their homework, Rosie had made a special trip to Bhoarders to purchase a gift for Nellie. Not to reward her for poor behavior, of course, but she hoped that this would allow her to channel all of those big feelings she had into a more productive outlet.

"Nellie? Come here, Lovey. I have something for you."

"This is for you," Rosie said. "Listen, I know you have strong feelings and it can be hard to know where to put those or what to do with them. You know how Mommy writes?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to try it, too. Here."

Nellie carefully opened the package and her face lit up. Inside was a new pink notebook and a special pen with Nellie's name on it. She pulled out the notebook and flipped the blank pages, enjoying the scent of a clean notebook wafting into her nose.

"Anytime your feelings are really big, I want you to try writing it down in here. No one will read it. It's just for you. Be honest in it and I think it will help you."

"Thank you, Mom."

Sam came over shortly after. Rosie was surprised as he hadn't called to say he would be visiting. It wasn't out of the ordinary, but it did let her know something was off.

"Sam? What's going on?" She said. "If I'd known you were coming I would have made something, I've only got left overs right now."

"I'm not much in the mood for eating, Roz," he said.

"What happened?"

"It's Dad. He's...gone."

((prev)) ((next))

[eleonoraalbright]

The Decision of Daisies

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You play the child's game of He Loves Me, He loves Me Not. You do not expect the very subject of your affection, Peter, to participate as well.

Cumulus clouds drifted across the bright blue sky, song birds were chirping their cheery melodies in the trees, and a warm breeze caressed your face. Everything was perfect. It was a beautiful Sunday morning at Xavier's school. You were walking in the pleasure garden and breathed in the delightful aroma of the flowers.

There were blooming roses, a multitude of red tulips, yellow gladiolas, orange dahlias, pink peonies, and purple poppies. All lent their heavenly fragrance to the air. There were also daisies. They were scattered among the rest, interrupting the multicolored flora with their stark whiteness. 

You cut one from its stem for a closer look; twenty-two delicate petals surrounded the yellow center. It was a plain plant but had a certain type of beauty within its simplicity. The daisy reminded you of a particular game played in afternoons in your backyard, one that always gave way to blushes and suppressed giggles. It was He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not.

Pensively staring at the modest flower, you debated whether or not to indulge once more in such childish antics of your elementary school days. There was no one else around to ridicule your fatuous action and it was just an inconsequential game too... Peter would never find out. 

You held one petal between your thumb and index fingers and plucked it, softly saying, "He loves me." You repeated the act again. "He loves me not." The thought of Peter not returning your affection was upsetting, however, if the flower granted a favorable outcome maybe it would help you gain the bravery to confess your romantic feelings to him.

You pulled off every petal, murmuring the words under your breath until three remained attached to the flower. "He loves me not." You picked the second to last petal, wishing that it had been the final one. "He loves me." That left only one petal which seemed to mock you with its miserable existence. "He loves me not."

Dejected, you sat on a wooden bench and flicked the pitiful petal less flower to the dirt. You kicked a few pebbles away with your feet, upset at the unfortunate result. After all, what was a stupid daisy to decide if Peter Maximoff liked you back. It wasn't as if it even mattered, although there were plenty of other daisies.

You jumped off your seat, grabbed another of the white flowers, and began plucking off its petals with superfluous feverishness. "He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me." You recited as if in prayer. On the last one you whispered, "He loves me not." The words tasted bitter upon leaving your lips. 

You stamped on the wretched stem, unleashing your frustration on it. Perhaps, a third try would bring about success.

Jean sipped her coffee while gazing out the large window overlooking the gardens. Her boyfriend, Scott, spoke about their most recent calculus problems, but she was not paying complete attention to his lecture. He soon realized this and asked, "Jean. Jean! Are you listening to me?"

"No," she answered honestly. 

"What're you watching that's so important then?"

"Her." Jean nodded her head in the direction of the garden where you were some distance away, picking daisy petals in a frenzy. 

Scott peered as well, confused at what he was witnessing. "What is she doing?"

"She's playing 'he loves me, he loves me not'." 

"Really? I wonder who she has a crush on."

"It's Peter." Before he could reprimand her, she continued. "No, I didn't read her mind. It's just obvious she likes him."

Scott raised one eyebrow in skepticism, unconvinced. "How is it that obvious?" 

Jean laughed at his obliviousness. "Because I notice the way she acts around him and, yes, sometimes her thoughts are loud enough that I hear them when my guard is down."

While the couple discussed this occurrence, they were unaware of another presence listening to their conversation with bated breath. Peter was behind the corner with a big grin on his face. His original intention had been to steal Scott's backpack to check if his friend had any unusual knick-knacks to steal since his previous inspection a week ago.

Of course, that mission would have to be postponed in light of the startling information he had overheard. Peter had liked you for quite some time now but never took the initiative to make his feelings known.

He came up with a new excuse every few weeks; either he convinced himself you were interested in someone else, or that he shouldn't date his fellow X-Man, or the world's robot overlords were drawing near, so there would be no point anyway. But armed with the knowledge that you liked him back gave him the needed boost in confidence to declare the truth. Peter had a big, fat crush on you and nothing could stop him from admitting it. 

Ignorant to these events happening inside the mansion, you pursued your petal plucking with ever growing resentment. All eight daisies had pronounced he loves you not! Was this the fates' way of letting you know Peter and you would never be together? As if summoned by your thoughts, Peter appeared standing by the bench on which you sat.

He lifted his goggles to rest on top of his beautiful silver-colored hair and regarded the situation in front of him. You were surrounded by torn off pieces of little white flowers; a slight manic gleam glinted in your eyes. 

"Oooh, are you playing a game? Lemme join." In a blur, he picked a daisy and sat quite close, so that your sides were pressing against each other. One of his arms hung around your shoulders and he plucked the first petal, letting it fall onto the pavement.

"She loves me." He picked a second one. "She loves me not." He picked a third. "She loves me." He went on and your heartbeat quickened with each second. Was it possible the flower would confess on your behalf? It didn't. The same as your own pathetic attempts, he concluded with, "She loves me not."

He scoffed in disappointment and tossed the stem behind him. "Pfft, what does a dumb flower know anyway? Nothing!"

"Yeah, I kept getting that too. Guess we don't have any luck in the love department."  

"I wouldn't say that. What counts is if the other person says they like you. Why ask a flower when–"

"–when the person is right beside you?" You finished. A moment of silence passed when both of you waited for the other to divulge the secret which wasn't much of a secret anymore. At the same time you said, "I like you." Peter had something different on his mind.

"If you could see one color for the rest of your life, what would it be?" Dumbfounded at his unexpected question, you were unable to respond. He cupped your chin with his free hand. "Because I'd be fine with seeing only the color of your eyes forever."

Your mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh my gosh, how long have you been waiting to use that?"

"It's been knockin' in my noggin for a long time. Did it work?" His eyes twinkled in amusement, already knowing the answer. 

"Surprisingly, yes. This means you like me too. Right?"

"What do you think?" He bent his head and joined his lips with your own. Butterflies of pleasure blossomed in your stomach and spread throughout your entire body. After some consideration, you believed that the daisies' decision of who loved whom was not reliable. At least, they were wrong with Peter's case.