#me learning a third just now: hold on a fuckin' minute

[thusjuniperus]

stories about small birds trying to destroy huge natural features

Chinese, recorded 4th century BCE to 1st century CE: The daughter of an emperor drowned while swimming in the sea. Upon her death, she became a bird. Known as Jingwei, she continuously carries twigs and stones down from the Western Mountains to the Eastern Sea, trying to fill the waters that drowned her.

Egyptian, recorded 1-2nd century CE: The Pharaoh says he wants to devastate Arabia. Well, here's a story for him: A swallow laid her eggs beside the sea. One day, the sea raged up to an unusual height and washed her nest away. The swallow, in her grief, worked from that day forth to cause the sea's destruction. She carries in her beak water from the sea to pour out upon the sand, and sand to pour into the sea. The day she finally achieves this will be the day the Pharaoh devastates Arabia.

Indian, recorded 1st century BCE to 4th century CE: A pair of shorebirds were deciding where to build their nest. Over the wife-bird's reluctance, the husband-bird insisted the shore would be a safe place. "Don't worry," the husband-bird said; "the ocean would not risk drawing my ire." The ocean, overhearing this, thought the husband-bird sounded like a bit of an arrogant ass, and so naturally took their nest once they had built it. The husband-bird retaliated in various ways, such as trying to dry up the ocean by carrying water away in his bill (this did not work), calling his friends to help him fill the ocean with dirt (this did not work), and finally asking Garuda, king of birds, to ask Vishnu to ask the ocean to give the eggs back (this worked).

Hebrew, recorded 5th-7th century CE-ish: What can we say about Haman, a man who tried to slaughter the Jews of Persia? He may be compared to a bird who nested on the shore of the sea, whose nest was swept out by the tide. The bird said: I vow never to stop until the sea becomes land, and the land becomes sea. It took seawater up in its mouth and dropped it on dry land, and took dirt from the land to drop into the sea. Its friend said to it: Unfortunate fool, how do you hope to succeed? Similarly, G-d said to Haman: Hey, moron, if I couldn't destroy the Jews (Moses intervened, long story), what makes you think you can?

German, 19th century CE: A king is asking a shepherd boy a series of "head-scratchers" such as you might encounter when interviewing for a flashy tech company. One is: "How many seconds of time are there in eternity?" The shepherd boy asks the king to envision a bird, which every hundred years comes and sharpens its beak on a mountain -- wait, where's the ocean? No ocean, apparently. Rookie mistake, Germans really fumbled this one

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 5

Day Four | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Six

Pairing: Jax Teller x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Table sex/desk sex; enemies to enemies who fuck; vaginal sex; unsafe sex

 “What are you doing in here?” 

The question made you jump, and you whirled away from the bookshelf, dropping your phone in the process. You thought you’d be able to get some peace and quiet when you’d found the office, away from the party that had taken over the rest of the clubhouse.

You figured that if no one found you out, you’d be able to hang out there for the rest of the night. You’d hardly been there five minutes, and now this? Jax leaned in the doorway, hands tucked into his pockets as he waited patiently for your answer.

“Jesus Christ,” You hissed, irritation welling up at the sight of Jax’s smiling face. You crouched down, picking your phone back up and setting it on the bookshelf.

“Not in a party mood?” 

You shook your head, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s fine, I guess. I was just getting some space, that’s all.” 

“You mind some company?” Jax asked. Your brows rose as he stepped deeper into the room, shutting the door behind himself. 

“I figured you had all the company you needed out there,” You nodded back toward the door. 

“Saw you leavin’.” 

“So you followed?” 

“Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Real knight in shining armor. All you need now is the white horse.” 

“I’ve got the bike. Probably got some paint in the garage.” 

“Please,” You rolled your eyes, turning away from him. “You wanna be really helpful, tell me if there’s any booze in here. Or do I have to go back out there for that.”

“Depends on what you’re lookin’ for,” Jax drifted deeper into the room, rounding the desk. “If you want a beer, you’re gonna have to go back out there, but if you don't mind something a little…Stronger…” He gazed at you from under the sweep of his lashes as he leaned down, opening a drawer out of sight. “I’ve got you covered.” 

You watched as he straightened, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, a tumbler in the other. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than braving the crowd outside. You sighed before you nodded, muttering, “It’ll do.” 

You scooched back to sit on the desk, swinging your feet as Jax uncapped the bottle and poured a healthy amount for you. He held it out, then yanked it back before you could take hold of it. 

“What do you say?”

Your mood darkened as you held your hand out, warning: “Now.” 

“That’s not the magic word.” 

“Right fuckin’ now.” 

“You managed to get further away from the correct answer.”

You rolled your eyes, reaching out and snatching up the discarded bottle before taking a swig. His lips curled with a smile as you lowered the bottle, holding it with both hands. 

“Don’t worry, honey," He chuckled. "You’ll learn.” 

“You don’t have anything to teach me that I don’t already know.” 

“We’ll see about that.” 

--  

You had been happy to spend the night alone, but spending the time with Jax was…Surprisingly pleasant. You’d been certain that he would grow bored with you, but you found him inching steadily closer to you. He’d started at the other end of the desk, and just shifted bit by bit—as he topped off the glass, as he offered you a smoke, as he turned to shift something around on the desk. It wasn’t long before the two of you were pressed thigh-to-thigh. 

The first brush of his lip against your shoulder made you go still—but he’d been in the middle of turning, shifting something around behind yo. You were certain that it was a mistake. 

The second brush made you certain that the first hadn’t been a mistake. The third moved closer to your neck. The fourth was up against the hinge of your jaw as he slid his hand over your thigh, drawing up the fabric of your dress as his fingers skated across your bare inner thigh. Your eyes closed at the feeling, your stomach fluttering at the sensation. 

“Jax,” You warned softly. “I’m not some crow eater that’s just gonna get on her knees and beg.”

His chuckle was low against your ear. “You’ve made that very clear.” 

“So what do you think you’re doing?” 

“Changing your mind.” 

--  

“You know the magic word.” 

You weren’t sure you knew much of anything at that moment. You did know that he had your panties around your ankle, and the skirt of your dress shoved up around your hips; the straps of your dress were sagging against your arms; the neckline has been drawn down to reveal your breasts to him. His shirt had been discarded long ago, showing off his muscled, tattooed chest to you. 

For as much ire as it raised in you, you had to admit—every single damn thing you’d ever heard a crow eater say about Jax’s prowess was completely true. The man was a god in bed…Or at least, on the desk. He’d drawn you to the edge of your orgasm with his fingers and tongue, and you’d been so, so close that you’d nearly begged—but seeing Jax straighten up and undo his pants had made you wet your lips, shifting closer to him. 

You were still just on the edge, you’d been certain you wouldn’t last long once Jax eased into you…But he hadn’t. 

He was trailing the head of his cock against your plumped, slick pussy lips, watching you with a smug grin. He leaned in, rolling his hips slowly against yours as he brushed a tantalizing kiss to your lips. 

“Jackson Nathaniel Teller, I swear to god,” You gritted out, tipping your hips into his touch. You whined as he drew away again, letting your head loll back. “Fuck, you’re such an asshole.” 

“I may be an asshole, darlin’, but I have something you want.” 

Jax pressed tight against you again, his cock slotting against your cunt as he braced his hands against the desk, nipping your earlobe. 

“One little word,” He murmured, emphasizing each with a slow saw of his hips. 

You clenched your jaw, tipping your head to the side to catch his eye. That warm, smug smile was still on his face; you wanted to slap it off. But what did you want more? The satisfaction of slapping him, or to quell the aching need between your thighs? You sighed heavily through your nose, grudgingly mumbling what he wanted to hear. 

“What was that?” He goaded, turning his ear toward your lips. “I didn’t catch it.”

“...Please.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Please, Jax, please fuck me!” You whined, squeezing his hips with your knees. You thought he’d ask you to repeat it again, but he slipped his hand between your legs, guiding his cock into you. You groaned, bracing your hands besides Jax’s as he filled you. 

“Fuck, yes,” You breathed, eyes sliding shut. Jax turned his head, nipping your neck and sucking over the spot. You cursed under your breath, raising a hand to twine in his hair. 

“Don’t give me a hickey, you little shit.” 

He laughed, swiping his tongue over the stinging skin. 

“Why not?” He curled his arm around your waist, dragging you closer to the edge of the desk, drawing you further down on his cock. “Afraid everyone out there will know what we’ve been up to in here?” He tipped his chin up, making you shiver as he brushed his beard over the blooming hickey. “They’re gonna know anyway when I make you scream my name.” 

Before you could argue, he drew his cock back, then snapped his hips forward. You gasped at the sudden change in pace, tightening your grip on his hair. He pounded into you forcefully, the strength of the movement making the glass and bottle rattle on the desk. You turned your head, using your hold in Jax's hair to guide him away from your neck. You caught his lips with yours, slipping your tongue into his panting mouth. He swirled his tongue against yours, fingers pressing harshly against your skin as you indulged in one another. He leaned back just a touch as he broke your kiss, forehead resting against yours. 

“I can feel you,” He groaned, “Are you close?” 

“Mhm,” You nodded hurriedly.

“You wanna cum?” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Jax, please, please,” You whimpered. Jax grinned, sucking his fingers between his lips before he reached down, swiping at your sensitive clit. The sudden slickness made you yelp, your hips bounding to chase the sensations. You bit your lip, quieting your moans as you came, tightening and throbbing around his cock. You laid back on the desk as the sensation calmed. Jax continued to gently roll his hips, his gaze sweeping desirously over your prone form. He leaned over you, smile widening as you trailed your hand down his chest. 

“Are you close?” You murmured. You felt so good—pliant, and calmed, even with the discomfort of the desk beneath you. 

“Nope.” 

Your brows rose, and you propped yourself up on your elbows, shivering as Jax’s hips continued to roll into you. 

“What?” 

“I told you,” He leaned over you, lips brushing yours. “Those people out there? They’re gonna hear you scream my name.” 

Jax straightened again, drawing one of your thighs up around his hip. 

“Better get comfortable, darlin’.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021

[steddieas-shegoes]

hiii not sure if you’re still taking requests but

no upside down au where teen single dad steve approaches eddie after hellfire bc every parenting stuff keeps mentioning how reading to babies is super important for their development but his dyslexia makes reading so hard let alone be expressive w it too and the kids keep mentioning how eddie is amazing on dnd. eddie is skeptical cause how come no ones has heard of king steve’s one year old ? but he accepts when steve offers paying but after seeing steve w his baby and understanding how he changed he refuses the money and cue them slowly falling in love and becoming a family <333

Sorry this took *checks watch* like 9 months to finish! I kinda took some creative turns, but it's done!

read on ao3

rated t | 5,182 words | no cw | tags: mostly fluff, single parent steve, not canon compliant, mutual pining, getting together, love confessions

📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚📚

Early August 1985

“Steve, it’s not like he’s gonna fuckin’ bite, dude,” Dustin said from the passenger seat.

“Language.”

“She’s not even awake,” Dustin whisper yelled. “I promise he’s cool. The worst he’ll say is no. It’s not like he’s gonna bully you.”

“No one else knows I’m asking him this, right?” Steve was suddenly worried that all the kids knew about Steve’s learning disability and they’d think he was actually stupid and-

“No, it’s just me. But if you don’t hurry up and go in before everyone else gets here, they’ll find out.”

Steve glanced in the backseat, smiling to himself at his sleeping daughter. She’d been out for nearly the entire drive from his house to Dustin’s to the high school, so she’d probably be waking up within the next 20 minutes and she’d be ready to stretch her legs.

She was a squirmy thing from the moment she figured out how to scoot around the floor, and it only got worse when she learned to walk at 11 months. The only time she was still and staying out of trouble was when she was asleep.

“If she starts crying, just sit back there with her. She just likes having company,” Steve reminded him as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Yep. I’ve literally babysat for you before. I can handle her for 5 minutes.”

“Attitude.” Steve shook his head and opened the door, getting out and only closing the door most of the way so it wouldn’t wake her up.

Eddie always showed up 30 minutes early for Hellfire Club to set up according to Dustin. He took this club very seriously, even as a third year senior. He kept it running all summer so that incoming freshmen would have time to get acquainted with his style of DMing or whatever.

Steve respected the dedication, though he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that dedication were put into his homework, he would’ve graduated in May with Steve.

But Steve couldn’t actually judge. Not with the fact that he was pretty close to not graduating himself. He had a pretty good reason, but still.

The auditorium door closed loudly behind him, making him jump and clench his jaw painfully.

“Door’s broken. You gotta hold it while it closes so it doesn’t slam,” a voice said from the door to the backstage area.

Steve squinted through the semi-darkness and felt his stomach turn. Eddie.

“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had to open it. Figured they would have fixed it by now,” Steve replied, walking closer to the guy he needed to talk to.

“No shit! Is that King Steve? In the flesh?” Eddie’s dramatics were endearing, even if it was slightly annoying that he pulled out the stupid high school nickname he’d lost well before he graduated.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. This wasn’t gonna go well.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but none of your precious kiddos have made it yet. It’s still early.”

Steve nodded. “One of them’s sitting in my car in the parking lot. Um, Henderson? He’s an incoming freshman.”

“Ah. Dustin’s got a place in Hellfire if you’re worried. I don’t turn anyone away who wants to be here.”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Steve needed to just spit it out. “He said you’re like, great at storytelling or whatever. Like you’re the best DM he’s ever seen and he knows I could use those skills for something.”

“Oh? What could Steve Harrington need DM skills for?”

“My daughter.”

The silence following his confession was louder than the door slamming only a minute ago.

He probably could’ve revealed his motives a little better, work up to the fact that he even had a daughter maybe. Very few people actually knew, and he had to keep it that way until he could leave his parent’s house.

“Your…daughter.”

“Yes. She’s just turned one and the doctors said reading to her is like, super important for learning words and helping her learn how to have an imagination and stuff. And I do read to her!” Steve suddenly felt worried that Eddie would think he was a bad parent. “I try to. But I’m, well, Nancy says it’s dyslexia? So words are kinda hard and it gives me a headache if I try to read for more than a few minutes and I’m so busy focusing on the words I don’t think I’m making it very fun for her-“

“Woah. Steve. Slow down.” Eddie braced his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. “I didn’t even know you had a daughter. Does anyone know you have a daughter?”

“The kids do, yeah. My parents do because they kinda helped cover it all up and made sure I still graduated so I didn’t embarrass them or whatever.” Steve looked down at the floor, shoving his hands in his pockets. He didn’t really want to go through the whole thing with this guy. “Robin Buckley knows? She’s my best friend. The Byers and Wheelers, Hopper. Some teachers know but were sworn to secrecy.”

“Huh.”

Steve looked up to see Eddie stepping closer to him, soft smile on his face.

“So what do you need me for exactly?”

“Dustin said you’re really good at telling stories and I figured maybe you would be willing to read to her? Not every day, like I can work with your schedule or whatever. Evening would be best for me, but it’s not really a big deal if it has to be other times. She comes to work with me so if it had to be during the day, you could sit in the office or something, I dunno.” Steve shrugged. He hated asking for help. But Dustin insisted Eddie was actually a good guy and would keep his secret. No one who saw her at work assumed Steve Harrington was a single parent at 18. That would just be absurd. “I just don’t want her to miss out.”

Eddie’s hand drifted down his arm, holding his hand for a moment before he stepped back.

“My schedule is kinda random. But I’m sure we can work something out.”

Steve’s shoulders fell as his body relaxed. “Yeah? I can pay you. Not much. My parents mostly cut me off.” Steve was scrambling. “I can give you gas money and stuff for having to come to us. And like, food? I can cook.”

Eddie’s eyes were intense, watching his every move, making him nervous.

“How ‘bout a free trial? I’ll do it for a couple weeks and then we can see about payment.”

Steve nodded eagerly. “Yeah, yeah. Cool.” Jesus, he was embarrassing. What happened to his charm? “Would you be able to start soon?”

“Normally, I’d say I can come by after Hellfire, but I have an…appointment right after tonight. I can come by tomorrow?”

Steve smiled. “Tomorrow’s good. I work until five.”

“I can be at your house by seven.”

“Great! I have plenty of books. Right now, she’s really into Old Macdonald, but I think it’s just because it sorta sounds like her name and we get to make silly noises,” Steve smiled to himself, not seeing the way Eddie was smiling too. “I think she’ll probably like whatever you read to her, though.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mackenzie. Robin read it in a book and said it meant fire-born or something? It sounded cool. We call her Mac or Kenzie for short so she hears Macdonald and thinks we’re giving her another nickname,” Steve laughed. “Anyway, I better get back to the car. If she’s awake and Dustin has to deal with her crying for too long, he gets an attitude.”

“Mackenzie. I like it.” Eddie nodded once. “See you tomorrow, Stevie.”

Steve agreed and waved, turning around to leave. By the time he realized Eddie’s nickname for him, Eddie was already backstage.

****

Steve was nervous.

He nearly burnt the chicken he was cooking for dinner just from getting distracted by thoughts of Eddie being in his home.

He didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the fact that he’d always thought Eddie was kinda rough around the edges and was surprised he’d agreed so easily. Maybe it was bringing someone new into the small group he’d had around for a couple years. Maybe it was the way Eddie’s hand on his shoulder seemed to leave a permanent mark despite being one of the softest touches he’d felt from another adult in a while.

Mackenzie was in her high chair already, eating some of the noodles he’d made as a side. She’d been practicing using a fork, so quite a few had fallen on the floor, but Steve still smiled and told her she did a great job any time she managed to get one to her mouth.

The doorbell rang and Steve felt his heart stop.

“Daddy!” Mackenzie squealed when the bell rang. She knew that usually meant Hopper was here. Everyone else just came inside on their own. “Hop!”

“No, baby, not Hop. Not tonight. It’s my friend, Eddie. He’s gonna tell you a fun story, okay?” Steve ran his hands through her hair as he walked by to get the door.

When he opened the door, Eddie was standing there with a handful of books, a box of crayons, and what looked like a hairbow.

“I’m here to entertain the princess!” Eddie exclaimed. “Lead me to her highness!”

Steve couldn’t hide the grin on his face if he wanted to. “She’s currently trying to stab noodles to death. I’m sure you’ll be entertained.”

“Ah, they must have wronged her. I’ll assist,” Eddie made his way past Steve, walking towards the kitchen.

Steve knew he’d been to a couple of the parties he threw to sell, but had no idea he remembered the layout of his house. Maybe he had one of those picture minds.

As Steve entered the kitchen, he noticed that Eddie had set down the pile of books on the counter before he sat down in front of Mackenzie.

There were a few books he recognized: an ABC book that he was pretty sure he’d had when he was a kid but had since lost, a book of fairy tales with Rapunzel on the cover, something by Beatrix Potter, and a couple of coloring books that featured princesses and dragons and horses.

“She isn’t really old enough to color, is she?” Steve asked, interrupting what must have been a very amusing conversation of mostly babbling. “I don’t have any coloring stuff.”

“Coloring with skill? No. She definitely doesn’t have the motor skills to color in the lines or even use the right colors for the right things. But it does help her learn how to hold a crayon. My uncle couldn’t really afford much when I was a baby, so for every Christmas until I was in school he would get me new crayons and coloring books. I don’t really remember how I did, but I do remember having fun.” Eddie turned back to Mackenzie. “And sometimes it’s fun to just make a mess, right?”

Mackenzie clapped her hands together, sending the toddler fork she’d been using to the floor with a noodle attached to it. Steve wordlessly grabbed one of her spoons from the drawer and gave it to her, kissing the top of her head before he knelt down to pick up the fork.

Eddie watched silently, something soft about the way he didn’t interrupt anything even though he could’ve kept talking.

“I made chicken and pasta. It’s probably not my best work, but I made enough for you if you haven’t eaten yet,” Steve offered as he walked to the stove to start plating the food for himself.

“I wouldn’t turn it down. Wayne’s not exactly known for serving five star meals,” Eddie joked. “He believes in the power of fried bologna and cheese sandwiches with a bag of chips.”

Steve grimaced. “Okay, well I made enough for you to bring home some leftovers too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“You’re taking home leftovers.”

Steve turned to see Eddie’s widened eyes and open mouth that slowly formed into a smile.

“I guess I’m taking home some leftovers.” He turned to Mackenzie and tickled her neck. “Your daddy is pushy isn’t he?”

Steve blushed, but continued making up a plate for Eddie.

As they sat and ate, Eddie talked about all of his favorite books for little kids, and how he remembered sneaking into the library after school for years because he knew he didn’t wanna go home. He talked about the first time a teacher wrote a positive letter home, an English teacher who said his fictional essay was the best in the class and he should consider writing as a career. He even talked about his plans for the school year campaigns, but made Steve swear not to mention anything to the kids.

“I’ll know if you tell them,” Eddie winked.

Steve believed him.

When they were done, Steve grabbed Mackenzie from her chair.

“I’m gonna give her a quick bath if you wanna bring all that stuff to her room. Second floor, third door on the right. It’s a little messy right now. Someone decided to pull all her toys from her box yesterday and I haven’t had time to clean it up,” Steve tickled Mackenzie’s side, making her giggle and turn her head into his shoulder.

“You need me to clean this up?” Eddie asked, gesturing to the table.

“Nah, I’ll do it while you read to her.”

Despite his efforts, bath time was never truly quick. Mackenzie loved to splash around and play with her toys, and if he tried to wash her hair too quickly, she would be grumpy for the rest of the night. He definitely didn’t want that for Eddie.

He set a timer for 10 minutes and tried to explain to a very excited Mackenzie that when the timer went off, it would be time to wash her hair and get out.

“You wanna have time to play with Eddie, so we can’t play for too long in the water.”

She didn’t seem to pay any attention to him, already too busy making her rubber duck fight with her mermaid Barbie.

He observed while she played, bringing in the rubber car she liked to pretend to drive on the side of the tub.

When the timer went off, she let him wash her hair without a fuss, and he quickly wrapped her up in a towel to get her into pajamas.

Eddie was waiting in her room when he got there, coloring books spread out on the floor. He smiled up at them from where he sat, legs crossed, hands in his lap.

“Squeaky clean?” He asked, waving at Mackenzie.

“Definitely lacking noodles in places noodles shouldn’t be at least,” Steve said, making his way to her changing table to get her dressed. “She must be pretty excited about you being here. Usually bath time takes at least 30 minutes and I have to bribe her with chocolate milk to get out.”

“She knows we’re gonna have a lot of fun. I think I’m gonna read Goodnight Moon first. That’s one of my favorites.”

“She’ll love that,” he said as he buttoned the snaps of her onesie.

As soon as he set her on the floor next to Eddie, she reached for a coloring book with a mermaid on it.

“Daddy! Muh!”

“Yeah, baby, it’s a mermaid! Just like your doll in the bath.” Steve pointed to the fish next to the mermaid. “And that’s a fish. Fish swim in the ocean.”

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him while he pointed to some other sea creatures and told Mackenzie what they were.

Eventually, he looked over at Eddie, blushing at the soft smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re a really good dad, Steve.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks,” Steve felt heat flood his body.

It’s not that no one had ever said that to him. Robin had told him plenty of times, Joyce had whispered it to him when no one else was paying attention, even Hopper had given him a handshake and said he was doing a good job once. But hearing it from Eddie, in this situation, when he’d been feeling like such a failure lately, was enough to make him want to cry.

He had to get out of this room.

“I should go clean up and leave you to it.”

“Sure, yeah. We’ll be right here.”

Steve booked it out of the room, rushing down the stairs to try to get busy with cleaning before his brain settled on crying over a compliment.

But the table was cleared. The high chair was wiped down. When he turned to the sink, the dishes were stacked up to dry in the rack. The counters were wiped, the dish towel had been put back on the handle of the oven to dry, and leftovers had been put in a container to finish cooling down.

Steve let the tears fall.

Fuck it, if Eddie was going to be this nice, he could have a little cry.

He walked quietly to the bathroom to put all the bath toys in the basket, but stopped outside Mackenzie’s bedroom when he heard giggling.

He’d closed the door halfway, just so she wouldn’t get too distracted if he walked by the room, but he couldn’t help looking in.

He felt like crying again when he saw Mackenzie sitting on Eddie’s lap, pointing at something in the book.

“Where’s the moon?” Eddie asked.

“Moo!” Mackenzie said, smacking at a place in the book.

“There’s the moon! Good job, little one.” Mackenzie leaned back against Eddie’s chest. “And where’s the…toys?”

She pointed again, but slightly less enthusiastically. Steve could see her energy dropping quickly.

He watched as Eddie told her she did a good job again and then continued reading.

Her eyes drooped more with every page. Eddie’s voice got closer to a whisper with every sentence.

Steve fell just a little bit more with every second that passed.

*****

October 1985

Eddie came every day. Despite the fact that Steve insisted he didn’t need to, that he didn’t want to ruin his schedule, Eddie showed up like clockwork at seven every single evening.

Steve learned to expect him, always made enough dinner for all of them to enjoy before Mackenzie had her bath and then got to read with Steve.

Every night, Eddie would clean up while she took a bath, and every night, he’d let her pick a page to color while he read something to her, switching to a bedtime story when she started crawling into his lap.

Steve would watch them often, laying down on the carpet and smiling as he listened to Eddie use different voices for characters, asking her questions so she was involved, and whispering when she started to drift off.

Other times, he’d try to get something done he’d been putting off, like cleaning the bathroom or folding laundry.

Eddie never accepted payment.

Steve tried bringing it up once school started, certain that this time spent here could’ve been better spent on homework or a part-time job that paid better than what Steve could offer. Eddie just shook his head and insisted that other than Hellfire every Thursday, he would be there for free.

They got to know each other over dinner, and Steve found that he was right to have butterflies every time Eddie smiled at him, every time he would touch his hand as he walked by to say hi to Mackenzie.

“Halloween costume ideas?” Eddie asked with his mouth full. Steve had given up long ago on trying to get him to wait until he was done chewing. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “What did this little miss go as last year?”

“Oh. She was a bumblebee.” Steve smiled at the memory. “Cutest costume I saw all night.”

“I bet.” Eddie took a sip of his water. “And you?”

“Oh, I didn’t dress up.”

“What? Why not?” Eddie sounded genuinely upset.

“Just got away from me, I guess? By the time I thought about it, nothing good was left at the store,” Steve shrugged, unbothered. He’d never been that into Halloween. His focus was making sure Mackenzie had fun.

“And no one offered to help you make something?” Eddie was no longer eating and Mackenzie had turned her attention to him when his tone became serious.

“I didn’t ask.”

“But no one offered.” Eddie stood up and walked over to his backpack. “Okay, we’ve gotta plan. Did you already pick something for her?”

He came back holding a notebook and a pencil, brows set in a straight line. Steve had never seen him look so serious.

“I had a few ideas, but I wanted to let her pick something at the store,” Steve said.

“Lay them on me.”

They discussed costumes for the next 30 minutes, but after only 10, Mackenzie whined to get out of her chair. Eddie wordlessly stood up and picked her up, setting her in his lap and letting her poke and prod at him and his notebook.

Steve watched them both, accepting for the first time that this wasn’t just a crush that was gonna go away.

He’d fallen completely head over heels for Eddie, and he had no clue what to do about it.

*****

November 1985

Steve was the only one who had space to host Thanksgiving.

He became manic a week before, realizing that his work schedule would not allow him to have much time to clean unless he did it at night. The problem was that he would get a migraine if he didn’t sleep.

“So let’s work on it together. I can come right after school. Cancel Hellfire this week,” Eddie offered.

“But you already won’t have it next week because of Thanksgiving. I can’t ask you to-”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. If I’m gonna be eating here, I should probably help clean up at least.”

So they worked on a little at a time.

Eddie wasn’t always helpful, getting distracted by some of the smallest things. But his company was appreciated all the same.

“You could invite Wayne, ya know,” Steve offered while he dusted the shelves in the living room. “Plenty of room and food.”

“Thanks, but he always works Thanksgiving day for the double pay. We usually do something the day after,” Eddie answered while he cleaned up all of Mackenzie’s toys.

“If he decides not to work, just let him know.”

“Will do, Stevie.”

He didn’t just help clean, he helped him do the shopping, too.

“I know it’s way harder with a baby, so if you give me a list, I can handle the shopping,” Eddie said while Steve plated their dinners.

“You don’t-”

“Have to, I know. But I can and will.” Eddie’s hand brushed against Steve’s lower back. “Let me help.”

Steve could barely resist the shiver that took over his entire body.

“Okay. Sure.”

Some of the brands were wrong, and he forgot the apples for the apple pie, but Steve still felt immense relief knowing that he had someone to help.

And without it, Thanksgiving would’ve been a disaster.

It was still a bit of a mess, but that was mostly because the kid’s table turned into a food fight that Max started and Mackenzie, of course, continued, until everyone was involved.

But the picture Jonathan took would get framed and hang up near the fireplace in the living room anyway.

******

December 1985

“I cannot believe you waited until Christmas Eve to wrap gifts. That’s not what parents actually do, is it?” Eddie asked as he fought with the tape dispenser for the fifth time in less than an hour.

“I don’t know if I’m the best judge of what parents do. Mine weren’t around much and probably didn’t even wrap my gifts themselves.” Steve took the tape from him, pulled some loose from the roll, and handed it back. “But I kinda always pictured it like this.”

Robin made him swear he’d talk to Eddie about his feelings before the end of the year. The end of the year was soon, real soon.

What better shot did he have than while Mackenzie was asleep and they were wrapping presents together?

“You pictured last minute wrapping with bribed help in your living room?” Eddie asked, amusement in his tone.

“Not exactly,” Steve huffed out a laugh. “More like spoiling my kid with someone I care about.”

Steve watched Eddie’s hands freeze against the clothes box full of new finger puppets they’d both gotten her. He looked over and felt his stomach swoop as Eddie’s eyes found his.

“Stevie-” Eddie set the box down and turned to face Steve.

“Wait, I just. Before you break my heart, hear me out.” Steve already felt his world shrinking, his heart rabbiting in his chest at the thought of losing Eddie entirely. “I’ve spent a lot of time with you for months. Like, more than almost anyone else. I’ve watched you with Kenzie, and how much she loves you and always asks for ‘Ed’ even when it’s way before when you’re gonna be here. You make me smile and laugh and that’s not always easy to do these days. You helped me when you didn’t have to, when you had absolutely no reason to trust that King Steve was a better person. You’re there for all the other kids even though you’re trying to get through school for real this time. I didn’t really plan a big speech, sorry. This is just rambling, I’m doing what Robin does.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie placed his hand on the side of Steve’s neck. “I get what you’re saying.”

“You do?”

“I think so.” Eddie stepped in closer. “But I think you might just be lonely.”

It stung. It wasn’t inaccurate, but it still hurt to think Eddie thought so little of him.

“I think I know how I feel.”

Eddie’s hand dropped from his neck and he took a step back. “I don’t wanna argue, Stevie. I just think you might need to separate yourself from the situation. I’m just always around, ya know?”

“You’re always around because I want you around!” Steve was just a bit too loud, but he knew Mackenzie was a heavy sleeper. “When you aren’t here, I check the clock to know when you will be. I get excited to leave work now because I’m not coming home to do the same thing I always did before. I get to see you and hear about your day and talk to you about mine and see you with my daughter, who probably loves you as much as I do.”

“You…love me?”

“Yes. I do. And I promise it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I still want you here, reading to Kenzie. But I know how I feel. I know why I feel the way I do. You can’t tell me how to feel.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to.” Eddie sighed. “I’m just kinda surprised. Didn’t expect you to be into guys, let alone me. I’m not exactly good boyfriend material. Or stepparent material, either.”

“Oh, fuck that. You’re more her other parent than her mom ever was. She gave her to me the moment she had her and wished me luck before her entire family moved across the country.” Steve felt tears in his eyes. “I trust you. I want you around. I love you.”

Eddie swallowed, eyes pointed towards the carpet.

A minute passed, two. It was rapidly approaching awkward when finally Eddie spoke.

“But I’m so bad at wrapping presents.”

Steve snorted, but felt relief wash over him. “I can do the wrapping. This Christmas, next Christmas, as many Christmases as you’ll stay.”

“All of them?”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve leaned in slowly, let his hands grasp at the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer. “How many Christmases do kids usually believe in Santa?”

“I dunno. I stopped believing when I caught my dad stealing the two presents under our tree when I was four.” Eddie let his hands fall to Steve’s hips. “But something tells me the little princess will be a believer for a while. Better get used to me ripping holes in the paper and using too much tape.”

“Think I can handle it.”

Every time Steve had pictured kissing Eddie before this, he’d thought it would be like any other first kiss, maybe a little awkward since it was his first with a guy.

Instead, it was soft, sweet, slow, perfect. He’d kissed a lot of girls in high school, had kissed them well. Not all of them were great, but even a less than good kiss was still decent.

This was more than any other kiss he’d ever had.

Eddie held him like he would never let go, like this kiss would last forever.

It couldn’t, but that’s how it felt.

When they finally pulled apart, Steve rested his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“You wanna stay tonight? We can both do the Santa gifts with Kenzie before all the kids bother us,” Steve asked.

“I should call Wayne. I told him I’d be home by midnight.”

“He can come over in the morning, too,” Steve said. “If you want.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for Wayne? He can be a little…gruff.”

“I’m not worried,” Steve kissed Eddie’s cheek. “Hopper’s basically my dad. Plus, Mac’s got a way of breaking the tough old men down.”

“Bets?”

Steve pulled away and started wrapping another present before he got too distracted. “I give it ten minutes.”

“Oh, how generous. I’m giving it five.”

They both laughed as Eddie decided he’d be more help putting already wrapped presents in her stocking and under the tree and making sure everything was put away when Steve was done.

And for the first time, Eddie stayed the night, holding Steve against his chest while they slept.

They both cried when Mackenzie opened her presents excitedly. She was too little to do it herself last year, so seeing her tear through the paper and find joy in throwing it around the room was like a dream come true for Steve.

Eddie admitted he felt like he was intruding for some of it, but Steve quickly reminded him that he was the first person she toddled over to with her new set of princess books and said “Ed, read.”

She sat in his lap right then, even though she still had quite a few presents to open, and he read every single book to her, making her giggle with his high-pitched voices for the princesses and silly accent for the prince.

By the time the kids were coming through the front door, Steve was rushing to shush them, pointing at the couch where Eddie was passed out with Mackenzie curled up against his side.

Steve was never happier than in this moment.

Until the next one, and the one after that.

[nintn19]

Pathfinder

fucking idiots leaving a pathfider out on their own without any brutes

ohh youll be fine compass your the best you can get back to camp. you dont need any muscle

im gonna fuckin die i hate this i swear im gonna leave as soon as i can

pathfinding is a tough job once this reality went to shit people had to adapt and finding a safe way out of non euclidean space or get lost eternally. thats my job, i have to keep a map of the path and fold cubes of cubes in my head or everyone dies. cant quite explain it but some people can do it better than others and they are the ones who get to go explore, in todays case an abandoned school building that once i pass will lead back to camp. yeah fuckin why did they think i could do this shit by myself its clearly non euclidean and who knows

ah shit great just great fuckin hate this part of the job. senters are in the fuckin court yard

uggggggggggggh for those who are blessed with ignorance of senters let me be the baerer of nightmares. senters are an unholy chimera of dog, grub, spider, and seven year old human. they have the head shape of the dog but only the shape there are no eyes, ears, or fur the only remaining feature is the nose which is where the name comes from as they can find a sent better than any other horror. the true horror starts early with the mouth, one could be forgiven for thinkimg senters dont have one but thats cause they usually keep it closed. if they ever decide to open their maws, one you have gotten to close and should pray to any god you hope favors you and second you will see the skin about where a dog would have a mouth start to streach and tear like thin plastic. holes will form and strings of skin will streach from the bottom jaw to the top revealing rotting teeth that will never stop bitting until you are good and dead, if youre lucky. moving down you will find arms attached about the neck of the senter that are the size of a seven year old child that are used to grab and hold the poor soul as the senter eats them living or recently dead. the body is that of a grubs which will pulse with what is at best a heart beat and at worst someone who will be forgotten all to soon. the legs are thin and sleek, copied from a spider, and can carry the senter to where the nose points at near enough to 20 miles per hour if motivated. these are the fuckin things that are in my way

yaaay i get to cover myself in lavender perfume, which wouldn't be much of an issue so long as i didnt basically need to dump the whole bottle on myself. believe it or not someone can learn to hate the smell of lavender especially if when even you have to put it on you then need to walk past scores of hell spwan that want to eat you.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck i hate thiiiis walking through a hoard of senters is scary as shit the fuckers are taller then i am and if just one gets too good of a sniff the rest will stampede in the same general direction

holy shit thank fuck once im past these doors i should be safe for a little bit. *deep inhale* *exhale*

f

u

c

k

they caught wind of my breath great just great okokok i got five minutes till they break the doors down

oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck

three lefts

third door open twice to a class room

count to 3

open a third time step into a new hallway

close door

flip a 180

walk through closed door

same hall way but now they have to find a different way here that should buy some time

locker g19 is bigger on the inside that sould be a good place to hide til the senters get bored

jesus fuckin christ god fuckin damn it

the tell tale sharp clicks of chitin of tile could be heard echoing in the hall along with the deep inhales of a senter trying to locate its prey

click

click

click

sniff

then the skin starts to tear as it opens its jaws

fuckin shit my heart beat is fuckin loud

click

click

click

goddamn that a strong organ its shaking my whole ass body jesus fuckin hell

click

click

click

ahhhh i can see it through the slits its right outside its right outside and it stoped

its head is swiveling from side to side still questing for my sent

badum

badum

badum

pleaseleave, pleaseleave, pleaseleave, pleaseleave

hooooooo fuuuuuck it moved on ooooooooh fuck why did they have to leave me alone aaaaaand now i have to stay here for another hour

then as soft as a lovers first questioning kiss i hear next to my ear

"Oh there you are"

[arrowflier]

I absolutely loved your last ficlet, the one inspired by Take Me to Church (well, I love EVERYTHING you write), so I'm here with a thought that maybe you can turn into something:

What if, for some reason, Mickey has to speak in Ukrainian (your pick why, maybe directions to tourists or a phone call with a distant relative) and Ian witnesses it and just goes: 😳🤯🤤🥵😍, followed by "can you do that again when we're in bed"?

Thank you anon! Disclaimer that I do not know Ukrainian, so if google led me astray I apologize.

That Foreign Tongue

They were out in the rig, on their way to a pickup, when Mickey got a call.

He fumbled in his pocket to pull out his phone, frowned at it in consternation as it blared.

“Who the fuck?” he mumbled to himself, then swiped to decline.

Ian looked over as he pulled to the curb outside their destination, curious.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Fuck if I know,” was all he got in answer. “Not a fuckin’ Chicago number, that’s for sure. Not New York, either,” he added before Ian can check. Mandy wasn’t great at staying in contact, but they knew to answer if it looked like it could be her.

Ian shrugged, and reached back to grab the cash bag from behind Mickey’s seat.

“Sure it wasn’t Mexico or something?” he prodded with a forced casualness, and Mickey rolled his eyes as he shoved open the door to get out.

He met Ian around the front of the ambulance, and promptly poked him in the chest, hard.

“What was that for?” Ian asked, wounded, and Mickey clicked his tongue.

“For still fuckin’ fishin’ about that,” he told his husband. “It’s been two fucking years, let it go already.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ian huffed. “Sorry for wanting to know more about what you did down there that has people calling in the middle of the—”

“That was one time!” Mickey exclaimed, arms going wide. “One fucking time, and I told you what it was about! Roberto needed me to check on his damn kid, it had nothing to do with—”

“Well how was I supposed to know that,” Ian interrupted loudly, “when you were speaking a whole different language?”

“Oh, for the love of…” Mickey trailed off as he stormed away from Ian down the sidewalk.

He wasn’t really mad. They did this song and dance around once a month, still, ever since one of his old contacts had found him and called him up. It stuck in Ian’s craw that Mickey had had people down there, without him, even though, as he explained to him once, he was glad about it at the same time. They both knew it didn’t really matter—sometimes it just needed to come out.

Sure enough, Ian caught up with him after only a few strides, falling in beside him naturally. His cheeks were slightly flushed, but otherwise there was no indication of their brief argument.

Mickey gave him two minutes before he tried to smooth it over.

Ian didn’t last one.

“You know,” his husband started, reaching up to scratch at his jaw. “I’m just making sure none of those foreigners come up here and take what’s mine.”

Mickey snorted. “Yeah?” he prompted. “Think they’re coming for our jobs and our husbands, now?”

Ian’s lips lifted in a grin, their banter back on track the way they liked it.

“I mean,” he said, “I can’t really blame them.” He grabbed Mickey by the arm and brought them both to a stop right outside their drop, tugging him close enough for their boots to kick together on the pavement.

“A hot, red-blooded American man like yourself,” Ian murmured, getting his arms around Mickey’s waist. “You’re quite the catch, Mr. Gallagher.”

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed, leaning up to bring their faces closer. “That right, Mr. Milkovich?”

He was just about to follow it up with a good old-fashioned make-up kiss, when his phone blared again from his pocket.

“Damn it,” he hissed as he thumped his heels back down and dug it out again. This time, he answered it immediately.

“Whoever the fuck you are,” he shouted into it, “you’re interruptin’ something here.”

An unfamiliar voice came down the line, barely audible to Ian where he still stood close but with a clearly chastising tone, and the fight went out of Mickey in an instant.

“Prīvіt,” Mickey muttered, looking almost bashful, and Ian did a double-take. That wasn’t English, or Spanish…he had to try and listen in on a third language, now? When did Mickey even find the time to learn this shit?

Ian watched silently as Mickey listened to whoever was on the line. His husband had folded into himself, holding the phone to his ear with one hand and his elbow with the other, casting a quick glance up at Ian before turning his attention away again.

“Shcho novogo?” he asked into the phone, and then a brilliant smile crossed his face a moment later. “Dobre, dobre,” he said, then “vitayu”.

It sounded like the caller asked him a question, next, but Ian couldn’t hear what Mickey answered, his husband lowering his voice and turning his back. Ian tried not to let himself feel hurt at the sudden shut-out.

A moment later, the call was over with a quiet “do pobachenn'a”, and Mickey faced him again.

Ian wanted to ask, but he waited instead, hoping Mickey would explain. Thankfully, he did.

“So, uh,” he started off nervously. “That was my…like, my great-aunt or something?”

Ian could feel his eyebrows rising. “You have family you still talk to?” he asked, and Mickey shook his head immediately.

“Nah, not really,” he admitted. “But this one, she’s back in Ukraine still, guess she calls around sometimes to check on me and Mandy.” He looked down at the dark screen of his phone, lips twisted. “Been a couple years,” he added. “Didn’t think she had the new number, but uh. Guess one of my cousins just had a kid or somethin', so she wanted to catch up.”

Family was a touchy subject, Ian knew. So he went for the next obvious question instead.

“Ukraine? That mean you speak Ukrainian?”

Mickey just looked at him. “No, Ian,” he offered dryly, “I just thought I’d make some weird sounds and see if she could read my mind from across the fuckin’ ocean.” Ian didn’t respond, so he tacked on, “Yes, I speak Ukrainian. Sort of.” He rubbed his nose, looked away and back. “That gonna be a problem for you?”

It was a fair enough question. But this wasn’t like the Spanish, which was never really the problem anyway. It wasn’t a reminder of time they spent apart, or things he didn’t now. It was just Mickey. And Mickey's voice, and the way it rolled over those unfamiliar phrases so cleanly, so...attractively.

“Not at all,” Ian clarified quickly. Too quickly, maybe, because Mickey’s cautious look gave way to a slow smile.

“Oh, really?” Mickey said, apparently delighted. He grinned even wider when Ian felt his face flush. So his husband sounded hot in other languages, fucking sue him.

“Better watch out, man," Mickey warned. "I hear foreigners like me are out huntin’ down men like you nowadays.”

Ian cleared his throat, and closed the distance between them again. “And that’s a problem how?” he asked.

“Didn’t say it was, miy cholovik,” Mickey murmured lowly, raising a hand to grip at Ian’s hair once he was close enough. Ian’s breath caught at the soft look on his eyes that accompanied the foreign words.

“What does that mean?”

Mickey pressed their lips together once, twice, before pulling back just enough to answer.

“Nothing bad, moye sontse,” he breathed, and Ian shuddered.

“We have a job to do,” he reminded Mickey weakly, like he hadn’t been the one to start this. “You keep saying that weird shit, we’re gonna have to cancel all our pickups today.”

“You better make some calls then, miy kokhanets,” Mickey chuckled against his lips. “But first…”

He pushed Ian back into a convenient alley right next to their original destination, shoving until they hit the rough brick wall. Ian didn’t protest as Mickey started to tug at his camo jacket, getting the zipper down far enough to mouth at Ian’s neck.

“Ya tebe kokhayu, Ian” Mickey muttered against his skin, pressing tighter as Ian clutched at his back. “Let me show you how much.”

--

Hours later, at home, Ian asked Mickey what else his aunt had said.

"Oh, not much," Mickey answered, snuggling closer. "Wanted to see if we could catch a flight sometime, go visit the old country, that kind of thing."

"Is that something you'd want to do?" he prodded, and Mickey shrugged, shoulders moving against Ian's chest.

"I guess," he said, unconvincingly disinterested. "I'd have to teach you the language, though, none of my mom's folks speak English."

Ian's brain ground to a halt. If the day had been any indication, he wasn't sure he could survive language lessons with his husband.

But never let it be said that Ian Gallagher backed down from a challenge.

"Sure," he agreed, and he was sure of one thing when he felt Mickey smile against his neck--it was going to be the best worst decision of his life.

--

According to my admittedly poor research, Mickey basically says hi, what's up, good, congrats, goodbye, then calls Ian my husband, my sun, my lover and says I love you. It's most likely all horribly butchered because I only speak English and a tiny bit of German, if you know Ukrainian I would happily take correction.

[mooniefics]

AFTER CONTEMPLATING FOR SEVERAL MINUTES:

reiner braun 🤪 + “please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

this is literally the cutest moonie, i'm proud of you for hitting 250!! ilysm 💖✨💕

oh my gosh i’m so sorry this took me so long,, thank u so much for the request n the congratulations mar !! very happy that my first work for this event can be for my love, our one n only reiner ♡(｡- ω -)

in all your years of knowing reiner, you couldn’t say that you’d ever once heard him sounding so frantic.

“please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

those were the exact words he’d used over the phone, imploring for you to come to the official marley high ten-year reunion and pose as his girlfriend. despite how you assured him that you were certain no one would judge him for being single, he seemed adamant that it would be the exact opposite. and after a few apologies for your laughter at his predicament and a brief negotiation over his payment of getting you your favorite drink from the cafe near your workplace for the next few weeks, it was a done deal.

though you admittedly felt a twinge of anxiety upon entering the venue of chattering adults, dressed in the best semi-formal outfit you had in your closet, you could see that he was the more obviously nervous one between the two of you.

“just relax, rei.” you murmured, slipping your hand in his and giggling at the way his arm tensed, “these are your high school friends! i’m sure they’ll be surprised enough that you managed to find a nice girl like me all by yourself—“ he huffed disapprovingly, earning another small laugh, “—and only ask about your work or something.”

you barely finished your brief attempt at a pep talk when a loud voice came from somewhere by the food table. “is that you, braun?!”

reiner’s jaw shifted, a sign you’d come to learn meant him holding back a wince, turning to see a man with slicked back hair and a broad grin on his face approaching. based on his heavy-lidded gaze, paired with the red solo cup tipping dangerously horizontal in his grasp, you assumed he was quite tipsy already.

“considering how late you are, i wasn’t sure you’d even show,” he chuckled, still having to peer up at reiner despite still being taller than you, “but the more i thought about it, the more i remembered you never were the punctual type anyways.”

“great to see you too, porco..” reiner replied half-heartedly, palm already getting clammy in your grasp.

you glanced momentarily between them, deciding to come to your friend’s rescue by clearing your throat, drawing the teasing attention away from him. “actually, he was late because of me.” you flashed a smile, leaning into reiner’s side. “just wanted to look my best since i knew i was gonna be meeting his old friends.”

“holy shit..” porco muttered after a moment of silence, hazel eyes blowing wide as he stared at you like you’d disappear if he blinked even once, only breaking his gaze to turn over his shoulder and call out, “piecky, c’mere! i think reiner’s actually got a fuckin’ girlfriend!!”

you barely stifled a laugh at reiner’s low sigh of discomfort, pointedly ignoring how the people around glanced at porco’s shout. “did you seriously used to hang around with that guy?”

“no..” he grumbled back, “he hung around the people i hung around with and always gave me shit for no reason.”

“wow, rei, feeling a little feisty tonight, are we?”

he scoffed as you reached up to poke at his cheek, able to see the pink flush that had settled over his sharp features despite the dim lighting, dodging your inquiry while he looked ahead. “he’s coming back.”

putting on the smile you’d practiced so many times right back on, you caught sight of a cheerful dark-haired woman sidling over to your small group. “reiner?! you seriously got even taller? who’s this?”

you both exchanged names, offering a hand for her to shake which she eagerly took, turning to reiner for affirmation of your identity, to which he said, “yeah, she's my.. girlfriend...”

“how long have the two of you been together?”

“a couple months—”

“—almost a year.”

you quickly laughed off the sudden nerves of giving conflicting answers, turning back to reiner’s friends and recovering with, “we’re not super big on keeping track of dates. you know how time flies when you love someone.” you turned up to reiner, lips perking into a doting smile, “right?”

his cheeks flushed an even darker red, a sheepish smile brightening his expression. “right.”

“looks like you’re the only single one, pock.” pieck teased, laughing when the man rolled his eyes and huffed.

“you’re still with zeke?” reiner asked, prompting her to extend her left hand, waggling her fingers to show off the large diamond ring on her finger.

“yep, engaged for two years now!”

“apparently still too good to come to anything she invites him to.” porco grumbled in response.

“i already told you he’s on a business trip,” she frowned, taking his cup from his hand and taking a generous sip from it, “i’m sure he would’ve come if he hadn’t had somewhere else to be.”

“whatever you say..” he sighed, letting her finish his drink despite his apparent annoyance.

thankfully, your small slip up had been ignored, allowing both you and reiner to relax when the two finally turned their attention back to you. the night progressed much less turbulently than you’d previously anticipated, reiner allowing you to handle any questions directed at your relationship, not saying anything when you frequently slipped in little white lies to make everything seem more convincing. it didn’t stray terribly far from the truth, you were entirely honest about the way you’d met and the things that had made you “fall in love with him”. 

you took a strange amount of joy in posing as his significant other, just as he gave equally genuine reactions when you wrapped his arm around your shoulder or ate something from his plate of food, flustered and smiling all throughout. for a few brief moments, you almost forgot that he was meant to be pretending too. he’d seemed more than happy to see that you were getting along well with all his old friends.

you learned more about reiner in the hour that you’d been milling around the room with him than you probably ever had in the confines of the job environment that you’d met him in—intrigued to hear that he’d been the captain of the football team, feuded with the neighboring high-school’s while being head over heels for the captain of their cheer team, held the title of champion arm-wrestler for all four years he attended marley—little details that you made you would’ve never known had you never agreed to come. the unintentionally intimidating, humble, easy-to-fluster human resources manager that you’d befriended apparently used to be a total jock, always getting himself into trouble. 

and, based on how many times you’d been congratulated on managing to stick by his side for longer than a few months, you could only assume that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of discovering the entirety of reiner’s character.

eventually, your small group of four that’d you started out the night with had reconvened, tipsy from constantly sipping on spiked punch, an excited exclamation from pieck made all of you turn. “look! the photo booth finally opened up!!”

she was already rushing away for the corner of the venue before anyone could say a word, everyone following suit with a laugh as she stuffed a five dollar bill into the pay slot.

“uhh, pieck, i think this thing was only meant for two people.. max.” porco said after drawing open the curtain, earning a frown from her.

“but i want us all to take a picture together!” she slid into the booth despite the observation, turning to you, “c’mon, i’m sure we could all squeeze in if you sat on reiner’s lap.”

you felt your face flush, knowing there was no way to work around her request without raising some kind of suspicion and ruining the act you’d both somehow maintained for the entire night. “sounds like a plan..!”

you could feel how tense reiner was behind you as you got settled on his thighs, hesitating to rest his hands on either side of you while pieck and porco struggled to work the screen before them. you were starting to regret not asking if this was okay with him before agreeing, but you were sure he would’ve found some way out of the situation if he was truly uncomfortable. he only seemed to be preoccupied with the thought of making you uncomfortable, something which made a flicker of affection warm your chest.

“alright! we’ve got four pictures,” pieck announced, “starting... now! and make the first a normal one!”

the first three pictures were the standard photo booth antics—one with all of you smiling normally, one with all of you making the most ridiculous face you could think of in five seconds, and one of all of you arguing over what the third photo should’ve been.

“do something cute for the last one to make up for the messed up one!” pieck demanded through her laughter, pointing urgently at the countdown on the screen, “hurry up an’ kiss or something!!”

you turned back to look at reiner, wide golden eyes gazing down at you, obviously unprepared for the steadily escalating circumstance that was only being intensified by the chanting of “kiss, kiss, kiss!” coming from the woman who’d paid for the photos in the first place. and although you knew you had no obligation to do what she asked just because she had been so kind to you despite only meeting you tonight, or because the timer was winding down towards zero all too quickly, you still found yourself reaching out a hand to settle just under his jaw, heart racing impossibly fast when you realized he was already leaning down to meet you halfway.

his lips were still sweet with whatever juice had been mixed with alcohol, skin warm and blushing from your proximity, the hand that had been resting in your lap wandering to lace your fingers with his. the exchange didn't last nearly long enough, the click of the camera drawing you back to the cramped reality, pieck's cheers through giggles and porco's disgusted scoff for you two to get a room.

"i better be invited to your wedding!" pieck joked, reaching across you to draw open the curtains in a silent sign for you to pry yourself away from reiner.

"likewise." you replied with a smile, almost giddy with excitement as you clambered out of the photo booth.

though reiner's expression just barely passed as casual, his cheeks were burning red, even the tips of his ears flushed as the four of you waiting for the machine to dispense your photos. the function was winding down fast, and as soon as your drawn-out goodbyes were finally finished, you and reiner left, hand-in-hand, much to talk over but neither of you willing to speak until you'd reached the privacy of his car.

you turned to him, smiling in the dim glow on the lights of his dash, laughing softly at his sheepish expression, "i know you said we'd only pretend for a day but.. you think i could request a little extension?"

[afriendlyblackhottie]

WAP

Summary: You’ve been twerking around the house ever since WAP came out and Chris can’t work while his girl is singing about wet ass pussy.

Pairings: Chris Evans x black female reader

Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty-talk, fingering, Daddy kink, dom/sub dynamics, squirting, twerking

(A/N okay so ever since the music video for WAP came out, I’ve been obsessed.)

»»——————————-　♡　—————-————-««

Ever since the WAP music video had come out, you’d been prancing around the house rapping the lyrics. Most of the time dancing which usually involved you twerking. It’d be fine if Chris wasn’t working which led to him getting distracted as he couldn’t help himself as he always found himself stopping to watch your ass shake. He couldn’t pinpoint why it was so hot watching you sing along to the vulgar song, but damn it was hot.

He’d been surprised at your willingness to quarantine in Boston to be close to his family. As a California girl through and through he knew you were home sick even if you hadn’t really left the house. You’d been a little mopey recently though he did try as hard as he could to keep you entertained and happy even if you were still stuck in the house. Ever since the video dropped you’d perked up a little. He was enjoying seeing you back to your bubbly self.

You’d been feeling extra good about yourself after finishing your goddess braids yesterday. Plus the tiny little sundress you’d put on. You knew what you were doing by wearing that. It clung to your ass and was also really flouncy which meant if you made even the slightest movements he could see everything. 

Anytime you twerked he could see your ass and also pussy because of course you weren’t wearing any panties. Dirty little slut. He was trying to resist. Really. He had an interview coming up soon, scripts to go over, emails to respond to, and work on his website, but you were kind of making it hard for him for focus when you looked like that.

Standing with your back to him as he tried to work on his laptop, hands on your knees. “Yeah you fuckin’ with some wet ass pussy,” you sang, giggling as you shook your ass. Your pretty little cunt on display for him. You knew what you were doing. It was like putting a gazelle in front of a hungry lion.

He looked down at his laptop then back at you then his laptop then you again. Like he was weighing his options. Work? Or feasting on his tease of a fiance’s wet pussy?

He set the device to the side before reaching underneath your dress to grab a handful of your butt.

“Hey!” You squealed with a giggle as he pulled you down onto his lap. “I thought you were working!” 

Chris kissed along your neck and shoulder, arms fastened around your waist like he was daring you to try and get up. “I would be if you weren’t being such a little tease.” After his interviews, script reading, and shit he’d have to make sure Dodger was good and normally would go work out while you distracted him while you did yoga. He realized if you two got married he’d have to learn how to keep you happy and satisfied within his hectic life anyway and this was just practice for him.

If that meant him having stop working in the middle of the day to dick you down so be it. He was doing his duties as your future husband. “I’m just singing a song,” you replied innocently.

“Mhm,” he hummed dismissively, parting your legs. “Maybe I want to fuck with some wet ass pussy.” His hand pushed up your dress to get to your already dripping core. He was so strong that you were pretty much just at his mercy, but part of the fun was pretending you didn’t want it as you tried to push his hands away. 

His other hand wrapped around your neck with just enough pressure. You gasped as his fingers found your clit. “Mmmm,” you moaned, withering against him. “Fuck, Daddy.”

“That’s my slutty girl,” he whispered in your ear. He bit your shoulder. It was bad, but he really liked marking you. Hickies, bite marks, bruises. Didn’t matter he liked seeing the evidence of what he did to you on your skin. He wanted people to know you belonged to him. Sometimes you’d try to cover it up with your makeup, but depending on the occasion he’d make you wipe it away. He loved when you’d protest in your cute little whiney voice even when you knew he wasn’t going to stop.

You moved your hips, grinding into him like you were giving him a lapdance. He groaned as you gyrated into his lap. It really was his fault for wearing grey sweatpants. You leaned back so you could kiss him. The new angle giving him more access so he could fuck your pussy with his fingers. 

Pussy juices leaking onto his hand as he made a come-hither motion inside of your cunt hitting your bundle of nerves. There was something about him talking down to you that he’d found that you loved even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it at first. He’d called you a slut jokingly six months into dating which led to you riding him as he called you his bitch and whore all night.

“You like prancing around in this little ass dress trying to tease me while I’m working,” he stopped fingering you for a minute so he could slap it. “Little fucking slut. Stand up.” He pushed you up onto your shaky legs, the fabric of your dress hitting your sensitive skin. He grabbed your hand so you’d turn to face him. he quickly rid himself of his sweats.

He made you straddle his lap now. He smacked your ass, once, twice, and then a third time. Now that you were both pants-less, his dick pressed against your ass as your pussy was against his stomach as you kissed with fervor. You reached behind yourself so you could take hold of him, running your hand up and down his heavy cock. 

Chris hissed into your mouth grabbing your hand to make you stop and then your hips on either side so he could force you to sink down on him. Your mouth dropped, lips forming an O as no sound came out. “Fuck,” he breathed, feeling that tight wet cunt finally wrapped around him. 

His dick always felt like it was too much in the angle. He was so thick that accommodating him almost felt like it was too much to handle. Like he was invading you. He always hit your spot right on, but it was even more intense when you were riding him. It felt like you couldn’t stop cumming. “I’m gonna cum,” you whined.

“Already?” He chuckled. 

You nodded, tears prickling at your eyes. It felt too good. Too much. Sometimes he’d have to hold you down so you didn’t run away from his dick, but like this you had no choice. 

He started working you up and down. It didn’t matter what position you were always at his mercy and control. “Fuck me,” you begged “Please, Daddy.”  It felt like you could feel him in your fucking stomach. 

“You’re such a good little bitch taking all of Daddy’s dick.” He was so cocky because he knew how he effected you. He treated you like you were delicate until it came time to fuck you. He smacked your ass again.

“Yes, Daddy, I just wanna be good for you.” Your juices dripped down his thick length. “I’m your little slut.” You moaned into his ear before kissing along his neck like he’d done to you a moment ago. 

“No hickies, Baby,” he made sure to say.

All you did was giggle in response, keeping your mouth on him. Fucking troublemaker. As much as he wanted to fight you on it, he noted to himself that he’d just punish you afterwards if you left one. Your pussy felt too good for him to even try to stop.

He slammed you up and down on top of him, pounding you just the way you liked. “I’m fucking cumming,” you cried into his neck as the dam broke inside of you. Your pussy clamped down around him as you squirted around him. Not that it stopped his movements. “Oh my god, Daddy!”

“That’s my girl,” he hissed, not stopping as he pounded into you, searching for his own orgasm.

“Oh my god!” You squealed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Your lips were swollen from how he’d kissed you and for some reason watching them as your cute face showed how blissed out you were. It was bringing him closer and closer. “Want me to cum in your pretty pussy, Baby?” 

You nodded like you were desperate for him, biting your lip as he still moved you up and down. You grabbed a handful of his shirt wanting him to brace yourself as you hit another peak. The way your pussy walls tightened only helped to bring him over the edge painting your walls with his hot white seed.

The two of you still moved against each other until you were perfectly spent. He wanted to giving you every single drop, but also make sure you were well fucked until he had the time to do take you to bed to do it again. 

You collapsed against him, resting your head on his strong chest. Your chests heaved as he held you close kissing your forehead. It didn’t matter how rough he’d be during, he always made sure to be soft with you after.

His phone went off and the both of you groaned. “Fuck my interview.”

[pascalpanic]

Alpha Beta Charlie- A Frankie Morales Story

Summary: Frankie is a lonely man with a big heart. His life changes when a new girl comes into his life.

W/C: 4.1k

Warnings: This one is a little heavy. Lots of language, talk of poor mental health (Frankie has depression and anxiety), Frankie’s recovering from a coke addiction, alcohol is prevalent here, harm to animals, lots of talk of blood and injuries.

A/N: This story is different than I normally write. There’s no reader in the story, this is just a story about Frankie Morales and a moment in his life. Please note that this is darker as it centers around an injured animal. Be warned of that. P.S. some of my friends might see ur names in here :) thank u to all of my friends who helped me pick Charlie’s name, and to @ilikechocolatemilkh who helped me create this whole story!

Frankie Morales is a kindhearted man. Anyone who meets him knows it instantly. He’s got a wonderful laugh that’s warm and inviting, and it’s often on display to anyone who chats with him for more than a few seconds. He’s caring, it’s clear, with big brown eyes that radiate compassion. 

His friends would describe him more as an idiot. Frankie, who they call Catfish from their days in the military, insists that they’re the idiots. He’s the voice of reason in their group, making the rational decisions and de-escalating fights within their group. 

That’s not to say Frankie is entirely sunshine and rainbows. He’s now several months sober from a long and grueling addiction to cocaine. It ruined him: it took away his pilot’s license, his everything in life. Flying helicopters was Frankie’s passion, but he’s recovering. He’s on the right track.

He had a girlfriend, who became his fiancée, and left him not long after he returned home from a dangerous mission in South America. It didn’t matter anyway; her child, who Frankie had dedicated all of his heart to before the birth, was revealed to be another man’s. As much as she resented him for taking the mission, he resented her for cheating and lying and holding the information back.

So now Frankie lives on his own. He resides out in a more rural town, not far from where Benny has his weekly fights and Will (also known as Ironhead) works with young military recruits. It’s been a couple of months, and it’s hard to be alone. Santiago pops into town once or twice a month, and it’s always the highlight of Frankie’s very being. His best friend brings light and laughter into his life. When he leaves again, Frankie’s small home feels massive and quiet.

He plays lots of CDs. He has bluetooth speakers all around the home and blasts his favorite songs. He’s learned how to cook and clean and has even learned how to bake a decent, basic version of a nice loaf of bread. He works as a mechanic at a shop in his small town’s center, working the odd hours that no one else wants, the hours where others want to be home with their families.

He’d considered different options to make the house more home-like, more welcoming. He tried his hand at gardening, only to find that he had the opposite of a green thumb. He painted the walls a warmer color, then painted them again. He was currently considering changing the colors for the third time. He’d burn candles that he thought smelled nice. He’d hung up a few photos of him and his friends, or his family. Nothing really worked.

A typical night for Frankie held one of two patterns:

-Night A: Frankie gets home from the shop at about 7:30, hands covered in grease and smelling of burnt motor oil. He gets in the shower and cleans up, then either ends up at Benny’s arena to cheer him on, or at the bar with both Miller brothers.

-Night B: Frankie gets home at the same time. He showers to clean himself, simply because he hates leaving smudges over his home. He cooks a nice dinner or orders takeout. He eats it on the couch and watches a new Netflix series. He gets sad and feels alone and drinks a beer, then a few more, to drown the sensation. He goes to bed early and calls into the shop to see if any of the morning shift workers want to go home early, because he can come in an hour or two before his shift. He claims it’s for the overtime pay. It’s really to avoid the loneliness.

Frankie likes patterns. He likes routine. It’s soothing. Maybe it’s a remnant of his military days, where not a second would pass without having a title affixed to the very second he was living in. Predictability made the hurt easier.

Tonight was an A Night. Frankie and the Miller brothers sat at the bar of McCreary’s and talked about everything and nothing at once. Will talked about the new girl he was seeing. Benny made lewd comments. Frankie smacked his arm and ordered another round for the other two, then nursed one beer for the entire night.

Winters were the worst for Catfish. He lived in the South, where snow was uncommon, but the dreary February weather stole whatever energy he could muster up and sent it up to join the gray masses that hung in the sky, yet never shed their raindrops. It gets dark early, another thing Frankie hates. It reminds him of the look on Tom’s face when he died. Of the way his bachelor home never made sounds unless he created them. Of the way the craving for one more hit of that devious white powder felt, the way it scrambled his brain until he thought it was the only thing that could take it away. 

This A Night, which also happened to be an especially chilly Tuesday, Frankie drove home from the bar at 12:21. The backroads that lead from the suburbs out to the rolling hills are dark, with a rare streetlight or two illuminating a fork in the road that led to a house. The radio droned on, some old Waylon Jennings song that was threatening to send Frankie into a fit of rage and smash a fist into his dashboard. He turned off the radio instead.

Another car drove the opposite way, far in the distance. He could see the lights approaching, then dim slightly. Frankie turned off his brights, instead allowing the road to be illuminated just by his front headlights. He turns up the heat in his truck as a shiver runs down his spine.

Something is running across the road. Frankie can see it now. It’s far from him, but visible in the other car’s light. He slams on his brakes, his body jerking forward.

The other car doesn’t slow.

He slams his horn several times, for whatever is in the road and the other driver.

The thing doesn’t move.

The car doesn’t slow.

The car and the creature- oh fuck, it’s an animal- collide.

Everything that happens next is too quick. The car stops for a moment. Frankie whips the truck into park and turns on his hazards.

The other car stops for a moment. Frankie can just make out a silhouette inside. He gets out of his truck, eyes wide and frantic. He runs to the animal’s side.

The car drives off.

Dust swirls across the road as the car’s tail lights fade into the distance. Leaving just Frankie and his truck and the mangled mess of fur and blood.

“Fucker!” Frankie screams after the car. “You fuckin’ bastard! You didn’t even check, you motherfucker!”

He gets closer and realizes it’s a dog. Its fur is white and brown and so painstakingly red with its own blood, and it whimpers and cries and Frankie realizes the poor fucking thing is still alive. Whether it’s his caretaking or his military instincts that kick in, Frankie isn’t sure, but before he knows it he’s ripping off his jacket and picking up the poor poor baby, oh you little angel, he coos to it, wrapping it in the denim and setting it in his passenger seat.

It’s still whimpering and crying, and Frankie gets in the driver’s seat and grabs his phone. “Nearest 24-hour pet hospital,” he shouts into it, hands shaking. He doesn’t realize either reaction is happening. It gets the words wrong. “No, fuck,” he groans, shifting the truck into drive and whipping a U-turn. He types in the words as he starts to speed back in the direction of the town. He knows he shouldn’t text and drive and normally he doesn’t, but he’s a fucking former military helicopter pilot, he rationalizes with himself, he can handle this. He finds the directions and types them in and tears start dripping from his eyes.

“Hang in there, buddy, hey,” he says and rubs the poor dog’s big ears as they drive. “It’s gonna be 30 minutes. Think you can hang on for me?” he asks it, not expecting a response. He wants to check the dog’s sex but now is certainly not the time, not while he’s doing 85 in a 60 zone and the dog’s blood is seeping into his denim jacket and his passenger seat.

The tears are flowing freely from his eyes now, his heart breaking. He can feel the animal’s shallow breaths as he drives, and he sobs to himself. “Hang on, buddy. It’s gonna be okay, I gotcha. I’m Frankie,” he introduces himself to the dog, “and I’m gonna take real good care of you. You’re gonna be alright and we’re gonna get you fixed up and back to your owners.”

The drive takes 24 minutes when Frankie is flying down the backroads. Fuck if a cop sees him. Fuck blowing a tire. That can be cared for later, when there’s not a dying creature next to him. A steady murmur of ‘it’s okay’ spills from Frankie’s lips. He’s not sure if he’s saying it to the dog or himself. One hand firmly grips the steering wheel and the other never leaves the animal’s body. He comforts the poor creature, murmuring more reassurances the closer they get. 

“Please hang in there for me, cariño,” Frankie whimpers, chewing his bleeding lip. “I gotcha. It’s all gonna be alright, bud.”

When he sees the hospital, he drives a little faster. He pulls into the emergency room area and parks in front of the door, turning on his hazards and running inside. There are a few veterinary nurses inside and they greet him, but their looks turn to fear when they see the denim-wrapped animal. “Please, please, Idon’tknowthisisn’tmydogitwasahitandrunandIpickeditup-”

“It’s alright, sir, come with us. Please breathe and tell us again,” a kind woman tells him with a hand on his arm, rushing him and the dog back. Frankie calms down after a moment and explains what happened. “It’s not my dog, I don’t know whose dog this is, you gotta check it for a chip-” he rambles.

“It’s alright, sir,” the nurse tells him kindly and takes the dog from his arms. Frankie clutches after it and a new woman pushes his arms down. “We’re going to take it back and operate on it. Would you please wait here for us? We’ll come give you updates as we get them,” she tells him, gesturing to the waiting room. He nods. “And is this your dog’s first time here?” She asks.

The tears come back, choking his throat as water falls steadily from his eyes. “It’s not even my fuckin’ dog, man,” he whimpers, worrying his lip between his teeth again.

The woman is still kind. “I see. Please, sit, Mr….”

“Morales,” he manages out.

She nods. “Mr. Morales. I understand you’re worried. Please just wait in here for us and we’ll bring you information when we have it.” He nods softly, grabbing a tissue from the front desk. He wipes his eyes and nose. “My truck is parked right outside, it’s in the way, I’ll go park it somewhere else,” he tells her.

“That’s perfectly fine, sir. You can even leave and come back if you’d like.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be right back,” he tells her and walk-jogs outside, getting in his car and bringing it around to park.

-

Frankie enters the emergency room again and sits in a chair. He worries and worries for hours, texting his group chat with the Millers and Santiago. He gives them a play-by-play, but only Santiago responds. He sits awake for another hour, nervously wringing his ball cap.

The dog must be alive, or at least be able to save, he rationalizes with himself. After a while, the worry fades and he falls asleep. Two hours later, no other patients around to disrupt him, he’s woken by the nurse who took the dog back. “Mr. Morales?” She calls out gently.

He jumps awake. “Yeah, yeah, that’s me.” He sits up from his slumped state, readjusting the cap from where it had been resting over his eyes.

The nurse smiles softly at him and sits in a chair across the waiting room from him. “The dog is safe now. We had to amputate her front left leg, and she had a lot of stitches, but she’s stable and looks like she’ll do well.” He lets out a sigh and her smile becomes more genuine. “You told us she isn’t yours?”

She. The dog is a girl. Of course she is, Frankie smiles a little. The smile falls as he remembers the fact again. “No, no. It was a hit and run. I saw it happen, the other guy took off, it wasn’t me who hit her, I’m-”

“Mr. Morales.”

“Right. No, she’s not mine.”

The nurse nods and writes that down. “Well, we scanned her several times. She has no chip, no identifiers at all. Our options now are to send her to some rescue or kennel of some sort, or you can take her home with you.”

His heart breaks at the image of the sweet dog in the front seat of his car going somewhere without daily love and affection. “She’ll come with me,” he answers before he can rationally think about it.

“Wonderful,” she nods, marking that down as well. “She’s looped up now on some drugs. We’ll let her sleep them off for a bit and then she’s all yours. We do have some procedures we’ll need you to follow, for caring for the wound and such. But after that, it should be all good. You’re free to head out now. We can call you when she wakes up.”

Frankie nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.” He looks down at his watch and notices how early in the morning it is. “Thanks,” he tells her with a genuine smile, taking off his cap and running his hands through his hair before replacing it.

- From that moment on, Frankie was enamored with the dog. He called in from work when the shop opened bright and early at 6:00 A.M. 

“Hey Carol. It’s Morales.”

“You can stop asking if you can come in early, Frank. Just do it,” the woman chuckles on the other line. A loud slurp is audible- it’s the coffee she’s always drinking, the dark sludgy shit that she brews in the break room that Frankie can’t stand but she absolutely adores.

“No, uh. Actually, I was calling in to see if someone else could cover for me today.” He explains the whole story to her, wringing his cap between his hands. “So. I was kind of hoping I could take the day to look for the dog’s owners and care for her.”

There’s a beat of silence over the phone. “Of course, Frankie,” the older woman says kindly. “You got a real big heart, kid. Real big. That’s awful kind.”

He smiles a little. “Just doing what I can. Thanks, Carol.”

“Keep me posted, Catfish.” The woman hangs up.

Frankie’s in more comfortable clothes now. He didn’t sleep at all once he got home, waiting for the hospital’s call. He distracts himself, cooking a breakfast he only picks at, watching his new series halfheartedly on the couch.

The animal hospital calls him again at 7:30. He gets off the couch immediately and into the truck. There’s a bit of blood on the passenger seat, from where the dog wasn’t immediately covered by his jacket. It’s not a worry, though, he thinks to himself. He’ll get some stain remover and maybe a new and nicer jacket. 

When he arrives, they usher him back to a check-up room. The dog is lying down but she wags her tail at Frankie, looking up at him with big brown eyes that could rival his own. “Hey, sweet thing,” he calls softly, and the dog stands and walks over to him. It’s pained, that much is clear, but she’s already adjusting to walking with one less limb. She rests her head on Frankie’s lap and he scratches her ears gently. 

Some paperwork is filled out and Frankie leads the dog out to his truck with the leash and collar the hospital provided. He lifts her into the passenger seat and she snuggles in. The scent is familiar to her. 

Frankie drives her to a pet store nearby, smiling over at her. She looks at ease with him, relaxed and trusting. Of course she is. This is the man who saved her. 

He helps her down once they arrive and leads her inside. Her walking is pained, he can tell. “Aw, honey,” he frowns. There are carts right inside; Frankie sees the immediate solution. He scoops her up and sets her in a cart. Her tongue hangs out happily as they go through the store. “We’re gonna get you all kinds of fun stuff, huh?” He asks, scratching her head. 

Frankie spares no expense for the dog. As they cross through the store, the cart fills: bags of food and treats, a new leash, and a pink collar decorated with donuts “because you’re such a sweetie, right cutie?”, doggie bags, and food and water dishes. Finally they reach the toy aisle. “Do you wanna pick your own toy?”

He picks her up and sets her down on the ground, unclipping her leash to allow her to explore the toy aisle. She meanders, sniffing toys here and there, even considering one big bone. A few moments later, she comes tottering back to the cart with a toy in her mouth. It’s a big plush hedgehog.  Frankie grins. “Aw, that’s a good one! Good choice, cutie.” He kisses her head as he puts her back in the cart. 

They check out and drive home, and Frankie allows her to wander inside. “Welcome home. At least for now. I suppose I should put an ad out for you online.” 

The dog doesn’t respond, just wanders around the house, sniffing the furniture warily and looking back at Frankie. Asking if he’s coming. He smiles and leads her to the couch, sitting down on it. “I know they say you shouldn’t let dogs on the furniture, but I think you and I can share.” She jumps up and Frankie praises her, giving her a smooch and earning a big lick in return. “Oh, pretty girl, I think you’ll like it here,” he coos to her. She snuggles into his side with a sigh and Frankie sighs too. 

Over the next few days, he posts ads for her, but no one responds. He reaches out to people from the area he was driving in, but no one responds. After Day 4 of searching, there’s no response and he allows himself to sigh in relief. “You’re mine now, baby girl,” he coos to the dog, who’s happily panting and grinning. 

During the first week, Frankie tries out different names for her. None of them seem to stick. He wonders if she ever even had a name before. Ada, Lucille, Thea, Sunny, Miki, Zulu, Fox, Pancake. None of them work right for her personality. 

It’s not until late one night when Frankie’s coke cravings decide upon a name for her. 

It’s 2:24 in the morning and Frankie is quaking like a leaf. The dog is cuddled up into his side on the bed. Wherever he goes around the house, she follows. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s drawing blood. Normally when he’s this anxious, when he yearns to call his dealer, he rides it out by balling his fists so tight his knuckles turn white. But his dog seems to notice. 

She rests her chin on his hip, wagging her tail against the mattress with a steady thump. She whines quietly. She knows. 

Frankie’s at least momentarily distracted. “Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong?” He asks her, scratching his head and rolling over to pet her. He’s still desperate but the focus shifts from the sensation of one last hit to the feeling of her soft fur beneath his fingers. She sighs happily and snuggles into Frankie’s side, and he starts to cry. 

No one has ever needed him. Not his plants: they’re succulents. He deals with them once every other week. Not his former fiancée. She didn’t need him, just liked him for his money and his dick late at night. Not his friends. They had other friends to go to. No, this dog needs him, and it makes his heart feel like it’s going to burst. 

Sitting up, Frankie turns on the television. He hits a random button to choose a channel, and Princess and the Frog comes on. He chuckles a little. “How about Tiana?” He asks his dog and scratches her ears. She doesn’t react. 

It’s near the beginning of the movie. The relaxing music soothes him as the movie starts. The dog lies with her head on his thigh, happily receiving scratchies from her new father. Her head perks up when she hears a shrill noise from the television: Tiana’s best friend in her puffy pink dress. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay baby. It’s just Charlotte.”

Charlotte. Her ears perk up and she looks at him. “Charlotte?” He asks again, and she looks at him in confusion. “Do you like that one? How about Lottie?” No response. “Or Charlie?”

The dog pounces on him with her one front paw and licks his face. Frankie laughs happily scratching her sides. “Is that your name, pretty girl? Is your name Charlie?”

The answer, it seems, is yes.

It’s funny, Frankie thinks. Charlie is the third letter of the military alphabet, after Alpha and Beta.

Before Delta.

She would be, he realizes. She’s more important to him than his Delta Squadron guys. More important to him than the terrible things he did in the military. She comes before Delta.

And that’s how Charlie got her name. 

-

The guys finally came over to Frankie’s house on Night 9 of owning Charlie. 

All of the men are dog lovers, and Charlie takes to Benny quickly. He gives her her favorite kind of scratches: one hand behind the ear, one hand on the tummy. “Yeah, that’s a good tripod,” he teases her as he snuggles her. 

“Hey man, cut it out,” Frankie frowns and smacks his arm. “She’s insecure about it! Be nice.”

Santiago laughs. “Hey, you know what, Fish? This isn’t what I meant when I said that you should get a girl, but I’ll take it. Especially when she’s such a sweetie- oh hi, beautiful,” he coos as Charlie hops his way and licks his face. 

Frankie shakes his head. “Isn’t she a cutie?” He laughs happily as he watches his dog. “I tried posting ads for her, but no one answered. She’s such a sweetheart, potty trained and everything. I can’t believe I got so lucky.”

Benny grins. “And all because we asked you to get a beer and you caved and said yes.”

“What the hell do you mean caved, Ben? I get beers with you two fuckers three times a week,” he laughs and shakes his head. 

He’s been home alone with her all week, but he hasn’t felt as anxious as he normally does. Her companionship is all he needs, the way she snuggles up tight against him, the way her meal schedule motivates him to eat more. He has a purpose now. 

After the initial excitement, Charlie finds her place sitting at her dad’s feet, panting happily and looking around the room. “She fits in well,” Will nods and leans over as he scratches her head. “She’s the newest member of our group, I suppose.”

“She’s much less work than Fish. Maybe we replace him with her,” Santiago teases and Frankie flips him off, chuckling softly. 

This was a pattern that came to be known as the newly named C Night in Frankie’s head. These are the nights where they order a pizza or takeout and hang out in Frankie’s living room with Charlie. She’s the entertainer of the group, giving the men each some individual snuggles and wandering around the room. She’s funny, flopping onto her back at a human’s feet so that she can get tummy rubs, spending an absurd amount of time sniffing one specific spot on one man’s jeans. They all adore her. 

Life improves for Frankie when he has Charlie. He works shorter hours, spends time brushing her fur. He sleeps at better hours and cares for himself better as a result of caring for her. 

He takes her on a jog every morning. At first, he was nervous to do it. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to pass those Special Ops fitness tests. The thing that encourages him most is that Charlie is just the same speed as him. She runs along happily on three legs at the perfect pace for Frankie to match. 

Frankie lovingly refers to her as his copilot. She loves riding in the passenger seat of his truck, letting the wind from the open windows run through her fur. She gets excited when she hears the word truck and demands that Frankie snuggle her when they’re on a long drive. She even fell asleep on his lap once, with her face resting in the curve of the steering wheel.

Charlie is Frankie’s baby, and Frankie is her favorite human. The two of them are each other’s soulmates, Frankie thinks. His baby girl, his fluffy baby, his cuddlebug. His girl. His one true love is his dog, his Charlie. 

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @luxurybeskar @binarydanvvers @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal

[juliasjustanidiot]

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗿𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘀 | cc!wilbur soot

the words of ray simmons - cc!wilbur soot x reader

synopsis: you, tommy, and your boyfriend wilbur were to identify the ghost and get out of there. however, some things went a bit off the rails.

tw: slight gore, character death, swearing, uhh horrific themes and a slight anxiety/panic attack.

word count: 3.2K

bonus: this has a lot of platonic mr. tommyinnit content :)

the shrilling sound of screaming from yourself and the young boy behind you rang in your ears as your heartbeat raced with such an intensity you swore your heart was going to combust. the two of you were running as fast as you could down the hallway of the second floor of a suburban home, rushing to get to the stairs and out the front door.

“i can’t die now, i have wives to please!” tommy shouted from behind you, a figure chasing the two of you. you didn’t dare turn around and face it.

“it’s ok, tommy! i have jesus!” you said pulling out a crucifix from your pocket, sticking it in front of you as you ran. the flashlights you two were holding flickered, telling you the ghost was still chasing you relentlessly.

“why didn’t you place it earlier?!” tommy shouted at you as the two of you ran. “you could’ve prevented this thing from hunting us in the first place!”

“i’m sorry, tommy! i didn’t realize that this was all my fault!” you shouted back sarcastically.

“wilbur! wilbur!” tommy called as you both ran around the kitchen with the ghost still chasing you. it was no use, wilbur wouldn’t be able to hear him. at least not until the ghost gave up and the hunt ended. then the radios would begin to work again with the ghost not blocking the frequencies any longer.

this was only tommy’s third ghost hunt and his first time being hunted. to say he was panicking was an understatement.

as your boyfriend sat perfectly safe in the van, you and tommy were forced to run like mad lads around a living room with every exit locked.

you turned the corner finding yourselves in a hallway with doors. you two quickly got to the furthest room and opened it, hurrying in.

shutting the door behind you, you held it closed with your body weight while tommy breathed heavily, shaken up.

a few minutes passed with the two of you like this when finally your flashlights came back on normally and your heartbeat began to normalize, the adrenaline leaving your body.

tommy stopped, flicked the switch on the wall, and turned on the light in what seemed to be a child’s bedroom. a sigh released from his lips, “the wives will be pleased.”

as you let out a small laugh, you could hear over your walky-talky the voice of your boyfriend, wilbur soot from the van. “y/n? tommy? are you guys good?” he asked.

“we’re fine. this thing will hunt in groups, apparently. it doesn’t target specific people it seems.” you informed him, letting him know that the creature was in fact dangerous.

you and tommy exited the room, making your way outside, heading back to find wilbur.

wilbur clicked his tongue. “yeah, as soon as you guys entered the room of the ghost, ghost activity spiked.” he mentioned. “during the hunt, ghost activity went off the charts.”

“yeah, that’s what happens during hunts, wil.” tommy said, matter-of-factly as if he knew so much about ghost hunting and yet he was still a newbie.

“shut up, dickhead.” wilbur responded, a small giggle released from your mouth. you shook your head with a soft smile. there was the brotherly bickering between the two that everyone knew and loved.

“how’s our sanity looking, wil?” you said as you headed out the door of the haunted house, tommy behind you. you decided it was best to get back on track if you wanted to get this job done as soon as possible.

“sanity is looking fine for right now, tommy’s is a little lower than yours, love. which explains a lot, really,” he said, egging tommy on.

tommy was quick to respond as soon as you two entered the van. “oh shut up, you big fuckin-“

you turned around to stare at tommy with a small glare. he closed his mouth slowly, taking the hint.

wilbur passed the two of you, walking to the equipment, picking up an emf reader. “i’ll go in with the emf. it’s the upstairs bathroom, right?”

you nodded in confirmation. “right. be careful, wil. this thing is vicious.” he nodded, putting on a headcam similar to the one you were wearing so anyone could watch from the van.

“actually, tommy, why don’t you stay here? i’ll go with wil to place down the book so we can check for ghost writing.” you suggested, turning your head to look at the blonde-haired teen.

“what? why?” he protested. “i can go too!” he spread his arms, looking at you like a child that had just been rejected- which was exactly what he was. “i’m a big man, y/n! tell them wil!” he looked to wilbur expectantly.

wilbur turned to him, looking him up and down, wrinkling up his nose and shaking his head. “no.”

pointing to a monitor on the wall, you showed tommy his sanity percentage projecting on the large screen. “your sanity is gonna drop every second you step foot in there. mine’s a little higher than yours. it only makes sense that i go in before you so that you don’t lose too much. plus, this is still only your second time doing this. something could easily go wrong.”

“third.”

“plus,” wilbur chimed in, stopping for a moment. “we wouldn’t want the wives to be upset if we lost you.” you turned, grabbing the journal from one of the supply shelves and let out a small laugh. he put an around arm your shoulder, leaning some of his weight onto you.

“pft, yeah. exactly.” you agreed, lifting your head to flash wilbur a smile. he looked to you and gave you a similar one, his brown eyes staring into your own.

tommy watched from where he stood as the two of you did your weird “couple thing” while you both made fun of the boy. his eyes narrowed and his whole face scrunched as he let out a groan. “uuugggh. you two are disgusting!”

“oh, tommy.” wilbur sighed. “still so much to learn.” he released you and exited the van with you following him.

“we’d better get this job done quickly. this ghost is only going to get angrier.” you mentioned, finally getting back to business.

“yeah, well, tell that to the innit man himself. he’s the one who kept getting sidetracked.” wilbur mumbled as you entered the family home’s entrance, turning on your flashlights so you could see where you were going.

“wil, don’t bully the kid, he’s still getting a hang of things. and it isn’t just him that’s getting sidetracked.”

“wilbur? y/n? wilbuuuur.” as if on cue, the voice of a teenager rang through your ears on your walkie-talkies.

with a groan, wilbur grabbed the small device and clicked it on. “what, child?”

“the ghost’s name is ray simmons,” he said loudly, making your ears hurt.

“jesus, tommy, back up from the microphone,” you complained, turning the corner and heading up the stairs of the home.

“is this good?” his voice was only louder making your ears hurt even more. you’ve never wanted to hit a child more than now.

“alright, bye tommy.” you grumbled and shut off your device. “how did you meet this kid again?” you asked wilbur who was trailing behind you. he only let out a chuckle after shrugging.

with a roll of your eyes, you opened the door of the ghost infested bathroom and placed the book on the sink. you waited for wilbur to scan the room for emf, letting him check everything.

“oh, here,” he said as he just remembered something, “look for fingerprints or something with the uv light.” he tossed the uv flashlight to you. you caught it swiftly and clicked it on, shutting off the lights in the room. you started with the door, finding nothing there. you then surveyed the rest of the room, again, finding nothing.

“nothing with the uv. let’s get out of the room for a bit and check the cams. then we can come back and look for writing.” you suggested as wilbur pocketed the emf reader.

tommy and yourself had already set up a camera in the corner of the bathroom to look for a ghost orb and checked for freezing temperatures upon your first time entering the room. you already knew it was freezing the minute you walked into the room, it literally felt like a freezer. but it didn't hurt to check and you were correct. the room was in fact below freezing.

“actually, i think we have our answer for ghost writing.” wilbur pointed to the book with his flashlight from where he stood, illuminating it, and revealing some odd drawings.

“well, quite the artist this one,” you muttered, staring at the strange demonic drawings. wilbur came up from behind you, getting a closer observation of the obscure drawings.

“we’ve got ghost writing, fingerprints. all we need is one more piece of evidence and we’ve got our ghost,” he said, moving to the door to exit. “let’s head back to the van and watch the cams.” with a nod, you followed him out, closing the door behind you two.

entering the van, you noticed something wrong.

“wilbur?” you called, turning your head to see wilbur still walking back.

“yeah?” he looked up to you.

“where the hell is tommy?”

“shit.” wilbur cursed under his breath, observing the inside of the van to find no sight of the teenager. picking up his communication device, he quickly clicked it on. “tommy?” he called.

after a few seconds, you finally got a response. “hi, wilbur!” the boy said, a bit of static also playing through the device.

“tommy? where the fuck are you?”

“i’m ghost hunting, wil!” he shouted into the comms.

you went into the computer and clicked the mouse to watch the camera you had set up in the room.

“no ghost orb.” you told wil. you watched as tommy entered the bathroom on the monitor. “tommy, get your ass out here.” you grabbed the walky-talky from wil’s hand and put it up to your own mouth.

“no can do, y/n! i’m talking to ray simmons currently.” he said to you.

“don’t say it’s name-“

“ray says to leave me alone. we’re talking!” if him and the ghost are talking, that could only mean that tommy was using the spirit box or the ouija board.

“fuck.” you thrusted the walky-talky into wilbur’s chest and walked over to the supply shelves picking up some sanity pills. you popped them into your mouth and swallowed them. stuffing some more into your pocket, you gathered a smudge stick and lighter in case things got a bit out of hand.

“y/n, what are you doing?” wilbur asked as he watched you equip all of your things. he stared at you with a curious look.

“i’m getting our wifehaver.” quickly, you turned on your heel and sped to the house.

“be careful, love!” he shouted to you, worried for your safety. however, he trusted you. you both had been in this job for a while. you knew what you were doing.

storming into the house, you quickly ran up the stairs to the ghost room and opened the door with great force. you found tommy sitting in the tub with the spirit box in hand.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you shouted at tommy, quickly grabbing the box from his hand.

tommy looked up to you, looking confused as hell. “what? i’m talking to ray simmons!” speedily, you clasped a hand over his mouth.

“don’t say the ghost’s name, idiot.” grabbing him by his arm, you pulled him up by his feet and made a beeline to the door. you shoved the sanity pills into his hand, forcing him to take them. “what did it say to you?” you asked, aggravated. he was so stupid, going in alone like that. he could’ve died.

“turns out mr. simmons is quite old! he was also telling me the letter ‘e’ quite often for some reason.”

lifting your walky-talky, you called for wilbur. “yeah?” you heard wil’s soft voice from your end.

“tommy managed to get our last piece of evidence. spirit box. it’s a demon.” you told him, making your way down the steps, tommy tagging along.

“if it’s a demon, it can start hunting at any moment. get out of there, now.” wilbur suggested. you of course already knew that. you didn’t want to stick around any longer than you had to. demons were always very aggressive.

“anything else that it said to you, tommy?” you asked him out of curiosity. as you got close to your escape, you felt a sense of relief. you now had all your evidence. the three of you could pack up and take your pay, and head home. the exterminators could do the rest.

“i think he said the word “ill”.” he shrugged it off. “or maybe it was “kill”? ray is a bit mental, aye?” immediately, you turned your head to tommy with a very troubled expression.

“what?”

as soon as the word had left your mouth, the door in front of you slammed shut. you let go of tommy and ran over to it, trying to open it with all your might.

“oh fuckin’ shitting hell.” you cursed aggressively. you grabbed tommy and pulled him next to you, keeping a protective stance with him behind you.

“wilbur?” you talked into your comms, seeing if you could get a hold of him at all. “wilbur?”

“y/n?” you could hardly make out due to the large amount of static and blockage in your communication. “get- there- now. huntin-“ you couldn’t understand him, but you knew he was telling you to get the hell out of there and you were definitely trying.

tommy shook your arm from behind you, confused and freaking out. “uhhmmm, y/n? y/n? what’s happened?”

“it’s hunting, tommy. you kept saying it’s name and now it’s angry.” you grumbled.

“yeah? well ray’s a pussy.” he argued.

“tommy, if you don’t shut the fuck-“

“aaaahhh!” tommy shouted, pointing in front of you. directing your gaze to the direction that tommy pointed in, your eyes widened at the thing you now were looking at. the adrenaline you had pent up earlier from the chase before now came rushing back.

there in front of you stood a tall man with his face completely drained of color and eyes that were so empty they sent a chill down your spine. his left arm was missing with a hunk of bone sticking out of his flesh and his clothes were completely torn up.

you grabbed tommy, shoved him in front of you and started bolting as the thing chased you.

“dammit, run, tommy!” sprinting, you two made a run for it through the kitchen, and into the dining area, circling around that area a couple times.

“leave us alone, bitch!” tommy shouted to the demon as he started running for the garage.

“tommy! no!” you cried to him, trying to stop him by grabbing his arm, but he was already entering the garage.

unfortunately, before you could warn tommy, the demon detected him and chased him in there where he would be completely cornered.

darting to the garage door, you grabbed the smudge stick and prepared to light it with the lighter you had taken in with you.

peeking in, you saw tommy in the far corner of the garage, there was no way he could escape from the demon in time to make it out alive. you had to do something and fast.

you motioned to light the smudge stick and jump in to save tommy, but with all the pressure and anxiety you were feeling, your hands fumbled and the lighter fell from your hands.

“fuck!” you hissed, picking it up swiftly.

an alarming scream hit your ears, forcing you to turn and look. you wish you hadn’t.

“shit, tommy!” you roared, rushing in no matter what danger there was.

entering the garage, you didn’t see the demon in sight. it seemed to have gone elsewhere, deciding it had done its job.

in the corner of the garage sat tommy, motionless and limp.

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, repeated in your head as you ran over to his body, dropping the stick and lighter on the ground to touch tommy, trying to shake him awake. “tommy, come on.” you cried out as if he could hear you.

you heard rapid footsteps making their way towards you. grabbing the smudge stick and lighter, you flicked the lighter on, prepared.

bursting in was your boyfriend wilbur, out of breath and panting, searching for you. “y/n! i saw it on your headcam! what’s-“

once he caught sight of you, he let out a deep exhale and stopped in the middle of his sentence. but he could sense something was wrong. “y/n.” he breathed your name, walking over to you as you relaxed with the smudge stick and lighter.

“tommy. he’s-“ you fell apart, breaking into a state of just absolute panic and anxiety. shaking all over, your breathing was all over the place. you grabbed at your hair, tugging slightly to feel pressure on your skull. “fuck. he was- the demon- he’s dead.” you cried out.

wilbur grabbed your wrists tightly, forcing you to let go of your hair. “oh, love.” he sighed, pulling your body to him, placing your hands around his neck and burying your face in his chest while he buried his own into your hair, breathing in your scent.

the two of you stayed like this, your eyes never leaving tommy’s cold body. wilbur took notice of this and finally pulled away, grabbing your face, opting you to stare into his eyes. “hey. you’re ok. you did everything you could.” he told you, trying to reassure you. “you’re ok. yeah?”

you nodded your head, letting out a few shaky breaths. the both of you stood up and headed for the door.

“let’s get out of here.” wilbur put an around you, rubbing your shoulder gently, calming you down slowly.

entering the van, you both sighed. after that job, you knew things would be a bit different now. you would have to be more careful next time you took tommy ghost hunting.

“well, at least it was tommy and not you.” wilbur said with optimism. you turned to him giving him a small smile.

“yeah, but now he’s going to hold a grudge against me and try and get me killed all of next round.” you grumbled.

clicking a few keys on your keyboard, you marked the ghost type as a demon and started up the van, making your way back to the lobby.

there in the lobby, stood tommy’s character. immediately as he saw you two, he unmuted on discord and started shouting and cursing both of you out.

“you two are so fucking disgusting! while i died you two were doing your couple shit and making out through the game and all that disgusting shit!” he blasted into his microphone. “while my chat went ‘aww so cute!’ i was laying there dead and couldn’t do anything about it, you dickheads!”

you and wilbur couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “oh, tommy. we love playing phasmophobia with you too.”

(bonus) tommy’s pov:

as tommy watched in his ghostly form, y/n and wilbur’s characters stared at each, their heads completely inside each other’s, causing the game to combine them. with a disgusted tone, he huffed. “you motherfuckers.”

·  · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·  ·  

edited by @faithajo24​.

taglist: @etheriaaly

[its-nebula]

V3 Boys x Pregnant S/O in the Killing Game

Warning: DRV3 Spoilers

“S/O is what?!”

He panics and freaks out.

Calms down as soon as you tell him that you’ll get through it with him. It’s just all the more reason to survive.

“But Gonta… no can put child in this hell!”

He has a fire in his eyes that you honestly wouldn’t expect from him. You have to try your hardest to convince him not to fight Monokuma, out of fear of him being punished.

“Gonta will try to survive…for Gonta and S/O’s kid.”

He carries you everywhere from now on, not wanting you to strain yourself. If you ask, he puts you down, but will hold you and keep you close by.

During Class Trials, he immediately shuts any suspicion down.

“S/O can’t be culprit! Was with Gonta!”

You tell him to be wary of Kokichi, as you think Kokichi doesn’t have good intentions with your boyfriend. He just gives you a smile.

“Kokichi wants to end killing game just as much as Gonta!”

When all of you go in the simulation, Gonta makes sure you’re okay and that the baby’s okay. You don’t exactly look pregnant in the simulation, but he still makes sure. After that, he goes off to watch Kokichi, and you’re left to explore on your own.

To make a long story short, when Miu was killed, you noticed Kokichi giving you the side-eye, but didn’t say anything to him. You could tell he knew something that you didn’t.

During the Class Trial, the “Killing Game Busters” were revealed. You didn’t want to believe it was Gonta. You really didn’t. He would never hurt someone like that without a purpose…

“S/O, take care of Gonta’s baby. Gonta will be watching over you and baby!”

You sobbed as you watched his execution. The father of your child was burned alive, and he was never coming back.

Instantly, you unleashed all your rage onto Kokichi and his crocodile tears. Several people had to pull you off of him, claiming that the stress wouldn’t be good for the baby.

Besides, you could hit Kokichi with all the punches in the world, but nothing would bring him back…

 Laughs when you tell him about it.

Laughs the second time you tell him about it.

“It is even funnier the second time!”

Doesn’t laugh the third time.

“Wait a minute. You can’t be serious-?!”

Hope you valued your alone time while it lasted, because that is now a thing of the past!

MINE! MINE! MINE! MINE!

Lets everyone know that they’re not even allowed near you. He keeps you in his room at all times, you barely even get to sleep in your own bed anymore.

He only really lets you out during Class Trials, and even then he convinces Monokuma to put his podium next to yours.

Constantly talks about how happy he is that he’s going to be a father, to the point everybody knows. Even the Monokubs are a little bit annoyed.  So much for keeping it a secret.

“Hmm, nope! It can’t be me, sorry! I was too busy spending time with my child and my girlfriend~”

His logic is that since you’re pregnant, maybe nobody would kill you because they would feel too bad, so he doesn’t really mind screaming it to the world.

The longer the game goes on, though, the more fucked up things he feels compelled to do, in his efforts to try and stop the killing game.

You practically scream at him when he pretends to be dead.

“Aw, don’t worry your pretty little head! I’m alright, aren’t I?”

Maki keeps sending her threats for him to you.

“If you want to raise the child with a stable 2-Parent family, I suggest you calm your boyfriend down.”

During the fifth trial, things are very tense. Either way, your boyfriend was either dead or going to die. You knew it was all a part of his scheme, but you still thought this was a step too far.

When Kaito was revealed in the Exisal, you bawled your eyes out.

Even as Shuichi explained Kokichi’s thought process, it made nothing better.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye…

And your child would never meet his father.

Wait, you’re what?

Oh no.

In a killing game?!

Oh no.

And he’s the father???

Oh NO.

You’re surprised that he doesn’t faint, by the way he’s acting.

“S/O, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, really!”

You tell him that it’s okay, because you know he’ll make a great parent. You’ve made him a little more confident, but not by a lot.

“We should probably keep this a secret for now. You can never really be too careful in these circumstances.”

Everyone can tell something’s off with him, because he gets really bad Couvade syndrome.

He still tries to help you as much as he can. If you’re craving something he brings you it almost immediately.

If your stomach moves even a tiny bit, he assumes the baby is coming even though he knows better. You have to tell him that it’s only a kick and he needs to take it down a couple of notches.

“Heh…sorry.”

His anxiety is through the ROOF.

Still tries to work on it. He’s got to be strong for you.

Trains with Kaito to help him become stronger, and brings you along with him.

“Hey Shuichi, don’t you think S/O might want to train with us?”

“It’s okay Kaito, S/O gets really sleepy during this time.”

Tries his hardest during class trials. He can’t afford to take shit from anybody and risk getting you killed. Hits the killers with the hard facts and evidence.

Investigates with you by his side.

“Now the baby can see his father in action!”

At the 6th Trial, he reveals your pregnancy, even though Tsumugi already knew.

Nobody else did. How? Guess they weren’t paying attention to your ever-increasing stomach.

When everyone ducks under rocks, Shuichi shields you with his body for extra protection. After the two of you make it out alive, along with Maki and Himiko, the 4 of you go off to start a new life together.

“WHAAAATTTT?!”

Thinks you cheated on him.

He’s very hurt.

You spend almost an hour convincing him that he’s the only one you’ve ever been with. He still doesn’t really believe it, but there’s only one thing to do.

The two of you consult Miu to figure out what in the hell is going on.

“Miu! I never wanted to actually have sperm and be able to create life! Now our child is going to be born in such horrible conditions!”

“Well, be more fuckin’ clear next time, and wrap it up when you get your dick wet, why don’t you?!”

Looks on the bright side.

He was able to get you pregnant, something no other robot was able to do before! That’s a complete win!

You’re still stuck in this school, though, and this was no place to raise a child.

“Robots aren’t allowed to hurt humans, and I can’t risk you killing someone and losing the trial…”

He helps you the best that he can. He gives you any medicine that he can find, and he lets you use him as a heating pad.

Scans daily to see your state of health. Sometimes more than necessary…

“I just did this scan 5 minutes ago? Oh, I hadn’t noticed…”

Takes pictures of your stomach every day to monitor your growth.

Kokichi always makes fun of the two of you.

“Well, I guess that answers my question! Robots do have dicks! Hey S/O, was it all cold and metallic?”

“…that’s not funny.”

When it was revealed during the 6th Trial about Danganronpa, he was conflicted.

The voices in his head– the audience– told him all different things. He was tired, he just wanted to be free. He didn’t want your child to grow up in a world like this.

“S/O, if this continues, and the kid we created joins a future season, I’d never forgive myself. It’s time to end this. Please, when you see them, let them know their father loves them so.”

He sacrificed himself by blowing up the school. As he saw his friends and his significant other huddled beneath a rock, he grinned, knowing they were going to be okay.

Scoffs.

“Well, that’s just my luck that I would cause you to have to bring a new life into this horrible world.”

He’s honestly pretty upset over the whole thing for at least a couple days.

But then he realizes it; he can raise them to be better than he ever was or had a chance at being. He can teach them to do better.

This makes him happy, and he apologizes for being so stand-offish.

“Looks like… we’ve still got a ways to go.”

When the two of you lay down together, he always lays down in a way that his ear is directly pressed against you stomach.

He talks to the child a lot.

“Don’t worry, little one. We’ll get you and everyone else out of here and to safety. I love you so much.”

Truth be told, he’s a little scared that he’s a  threat to the kid. After what happened in his past, what happened to his family, what happened to his lover…

You tell him to try to not think about it, and you know that he’s learned from the past.

The two of you only tell a couple people that you trust; namely, Shuichi and Kirumi. They’re both really happy for you!

Kirumi helps out a lot by getting you whatever you need for the day. She doesn’t get at all bothered by your morning sickness, and even offers to clean.

After the motive videos come out, Ryoma watches his and though he’s a little hurt, it doesn’t stop his determination to leave.

While she’s cleaning Ryoma’s room, Ryoma confides in her for advice.

“I feel like…I won’t be enough for our kid. Look at me now, I’m nothing more than an empty shell. I just… want to be enough for our family.”

SLAM!

Ryoma fell to the ground with a light thud, and that was the last anybody ever heard from him.

Crying out as you saw the piranhas tear away his flesh, you fainted on the spot.

You didn’t even have time to investigate, because the Class Trial had started.

You appreciated how seriously Kirumi was taking this trial. She kept making glances at you, but you assumed it was because she felt bad that your child would have to be without a father.

Until…

No, it couldn’t be. She’d gained your trust, only to betray you in the end? What kind of sick joke was this?!

As she was executed, you looked down at your stomach, rubbing it.

“Looks like we’ve still got a ways to go, kid…”

Wildly switching between happy, sad, and terrified.

On the one hand, he’s happy to be a father to your child. You were the love of his life, and he wanted to do his part and take care of the kid.

On the other hand, when you tell him the news, he paces back and forth, trying to find a way to get you to be as safe as possible. He already survived one killing game, how hard could it be to let the two of you be the last survivors again?

He asked Monokuma to see if you could have the easy way out.

“Monokuma, I know you probably want me to still participate, but my girlfriend, she’s pregnant now, so can you please just-”

“Puhuhuhu~! All applications made are final, buddy! It looks like we may just have another member in a short 9 months! Well, the more the merrier!”

Shit.

After that “lovely” conversation, Rantaro was more determined than ever to find a way out of the game.

He’d already lost his sisters, and he wouldn’t dream of losing you and the child too.

When the countdown motive for the first murder is introduced, he parts with you for just a few minutes, to record the videos that you and your other classmates would later find. He wanders in the library in order to do something, but he’s distracted when a shot put ball falls behind him. As he goes to pick it up, he’s struck in the back of the head.

Finding his body, you wanted to throw up, and not from morning sickness. 

Nobody knew of your pregnancy yet, so nobody really knew how deep into despair you’d fallen.

Though, they still felt sorry for you, because it was obvious the two of you were together.

You didn’t feel right being angry at Kaede when she was revealed as the culprit, especially as she showed deep remorse.

“I didn’t mean it, S/O. I’m so sorry…”

Tears pricked your eyes as she was snatched back by the chains.

You forgive her.

Over the moon at first.

Yes, that’s a pun. Shut up, I know it’s bad.

This man is DANCING while he’s celebrating.

“WOO! I”M GONNA BE A FATHER!”

He’s loud enough that everyone knows within 10 minutes of you telling him.

Well.

When he has some alone time, he frowns to himself. He’s sick, What if he doesn’t live long enough to see their smiling face for the first time? Hear their first laugh?

These invasive thoughts clouded his mind, as he started to cough up blood.

“D-Damn it…”

Kaito decided not to tell you, not just because he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t want you to stress and possibly cause damage to the child.

He talks to your stomach everyday.

“What’s up, my little star!”

He’s extremely proud and isn’t afraid to show you off.

The more ill he gets, the more hope he has that you’ll be just fine. You have to be!

After he’s locked in the bathroom, he tries to find a way out. Any way out, he needed to make sure you were safe. Kokichi couldn’t keep him locked up forever! 

When he and Kokichi make their deal, he does it in your interest.

“If Monokuma can’t solve the murder, I’ll finally get to walk out of here and start my family! Right?!”

But their plan failed. As you watched his execution, you screamed, pounding on the screen, begging Monokuma to let him go, please. You’d do anything! Soon, his coughing got worse, and he was soon on the ground, pink all around him. He’d died of his own accord.

You smiled happily at the bittersweet moment. He died of his own accord, no longer a part of Monokuma’s twisted game.

You knew he was above, watching you from the stars.

“Did you say you’re pregnant…? My, what an interesting turn of events!”

Did this man just say it was interesting?

You told him that this was serious, and that you needed to find a way out of here now.

“Keheehee... you don’t really think I’d let anything happen to you, do you? It’s clear Monokuma won’t let us go, even under these circumstances. Besides, I have my own kin developing inside your body, you need extra attention now!”

He will literally give you a tsunami of compliments everyday about how your body seems to be handling the pregnancy.

“S/O, your body is just so radiant today!”

Tells you stories about motherhood in other cultures.

Knows the best herbal remedies to calm symptoms such as headaches or nausea.

Nervous that you keep having to go to the bathroom, guides you there and back.

You really don’t know why he completely lost his shit by killing Angie and Tenko.

You convinced yourself that it was because of the oppressive student council, but why Tenko?

As he revealed his true self, you were horrified. He...was a serial killer?

The Korekiyo you came to love was a serial killer?

You were thrown into despair as you came to terms with his true colors. Nothing made sense anymore. Not only was your boyfriend and father of your first-born child dead, but he’d been batshit insane this entire time?

Maybe the next time you see red rope and hear a promise of “pleasure like you’ve never experienced”, you’ll politely decline.

[mymedicine]

Alocasia

or, 7.5k words of blushy harry and sassy y/n

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - y/n doesn’t like people, but she likes harry—even though he keeps fucking this up

warnings - language, alcohol, mentions of sex (not explicit), lots of banter, excessive use of parentheses, umm... veganism?

notes - hiii! for once i don’t really have anything to say other than welcome, to a very fluffy and kind of chaotic one shot. hope you give her a chance and a reblog if you enjoy! <3

Upon moving into his charming downtown apartment, Harry was feeling a lot of things.

He was excited at the prospect of living there, of waking up in his cozy new bedroom, of flipping pancakes in the kitchen with a stunning view of the city skyline, and of lounging on his soft gray couch while watching reruns of Criminal Minds. He was also anxious, and a little annoyed. There were groceries to be bought, chores to be done, bills to be paid (Fuckin’ landlord was an ass for refusing to include utilities in the rent). The cabinets in the bathroom were a little creaky (Do I need some WD-40? Can I afford WD-40?!) He even had to walk up four flights of stairs to get to his door, a task which Harry was keen to count as his daily exercise.

Above all, Harry was lonely. Living alone was a blessing and a curse, he reckoned. He could lounge about without any clothes, dance in the kitchen to the sounds of Folklore (a guilty pleasure), and watch creepypasta videos on YouTube until three am (and consequently stay up til dawn, for fear of nightmares) without worrying about anyone but himself.

But after just two days in the new place, he was concerned that the cost of privacy may not be worth it. Loneliness and boredom weighed heavily on his conscience as he laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Not only did he live alone, but he also didn’t have any friends in the city yet. No one to see, nothing to do. Lost, he decided. No direction, no purpose…Only four walls and a bunch of empty cabinets.

And yet it wasn’t even social interaction he craved necessarily—it was purpose, company, and…perhaps some cuddles. He briefly considered the idea of a pet. Maybe a friendly little French bulldog to chase around and be responsible for? Or a fluffy Maine Coon kitty to scratch behind the ear and snuggle at night?

But the bills…the responsibility…The prudent adult deep within Harry knew he was hardly ready to support himself, let alone a helpless animal. He’d have to feed it and walk it and make sure it didn’t shit all over the floor—not to mention the landlord would raise hell if he found out.

Meanwhile, the soft, gentle, maybe a little naive man who dominated Harry’s conscience was craving a friend. Pets were a no for now, so what’s the next best thing? He grappled with the question…Surely, a person was the obvious answer. He wouldn’t mind a pretty body to warm his heart—or, at least, his bed.

Harry stretched his legs out over the arm of the couch—the only furniture he had at the moment aside from his mattress on the floor of the bedroom—and snuggled into his cozy corduroy blanket, craving warmth in the cold apartment. A rainbow cardigan adorned his chest today, draped over a plain white turtleneck that warmed his neck. He liked to keep it cold so he could be snuggly wrapped in his sweaters without sweating bullets. He dug around in the pocket of his cardigan for his phone, eager to receive affection from something other than his clothes.

In retrospect, Tinder had given Harry far more unfortunate encounters with other people (lots of younger girls just looking for a plug and toxic guys who left him on read) than pleasurable ones. But hindsight was always 20/20 and isolation had already planted the seed in his head.

He quickly examined his own profile. It consisted of two photos of him smirking softly (not too serious, but not too eager either), one with his sister and his mum (to show he’s a family man), and a group one with his mates (because sure, he was lonely, but he didn’t want people to know that). There were also one or two shirtless photos (thirst traps, according to Niall) that he’d sprinkled in between the tame ones even though it made him feel kind of icky. Weighing the odds, he’d decided that desperation for matches outweighed the cringey-ness of it all.

His very last photo was the only one where he felt like himself. He was smiling wide in it, wearing a baby blue sweater with a little chick popping out of its egg on the front that Mitch had teased him for back home. His bio, too, showcased his wholesome values.

Harry’s eyes widened as he observed on the first person he saw upon opening the home page—Y/N. She only had two photos—a shot of her perched on a car hood and smiling wide and one far away one with her figure drowning in a sea of…plants. Fittingly, her bio read: “I love plants and I hate people.”

She was beautiful and every bit as anti-social as himself. It was perfect.

Harry laughed softly to himself and swiped right immediately. He was giddy when the familiar It’s a match! popped up on the screen immediately. His thumbs hovered over the keypad, brow furrowed as he frowned at the screen. Matching was one thing, but actually starting a conversation was another entirely.

Ultimately, he decided honesty was the best policy:

you had me at ‘i hate people’ :D

Now what? Matching was one thing, starting a conversation was another, but having a whole conversation was another thing entirely. He hated the waiting, especially when he had absolutely nothing to busy himself with in the mean time, aside from fiddling with his fingers and doing laps around his living room.

Seven minutes later (not that he’s counting), a ding came through on his phone.

y/n: you had me at ‘treat people with kindness,’ mon petit :)

Harry smiled wide. He was pleased she’d noticed not only his bio, but also the sweater he was wearing in his favorite photo of himself. It was the perfect response from a perfect girl.

harry: so what do you do?

y/n: i work at a plant shop on Main

Figures, he thought. He imagined her carrying a watering pitcher, tending to a plant with gentle fingers. She’d be surrounded by them like she was in the photo on her profile, green on all sides. God, he thought. What a beautiful scene with a beautiful star.

harry: wanna go for drinks tonight and talk about plants?

y/n: sure ;)

Nightfall brought a chill to the air that made Harry desperately want to curl up into his warm bed and snuggle into his pillow. But here he was, shuffling his feet outside the crowded bar and absently wearing another tiny hole in the sleeve of his striped sweater. It was a decent bar in town. They didn’t water down the drinks and they kept the lights dim so she wouldn’t have to see him flushed beet red after one drink. That is, if she would show up at all.

“Hey, you’re Harry?”

He turned quickly toward the sound of the voice, and there she was. And holy shit, he thought. That is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Her two profile photos did not even begin to do her justice. The idea of a mere photo on a screen couldn’t even compare to the real thing. He would never be keen to look at a photo again, he reckoned. It wouldn’t make his heart bloom and flutter like the vision of her in front of him did. Was this love at first sight?

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, and not because the chilly night, “Y/N, right?”

Harry didn’t think he really believed in love—certainly not love at first sight, but this girl was throwing him into another world. Before, he couldn’t seem to stand still, but her presence in front him planted his feet firmly on the ground.

“Yep, that’s me!” She smiled wide, speaking cooly and confidently. It was obvious she knew how beautiful she was and, even more evident, how enamored Harry already was with her.

“I—you’re absolutely beautiful,” The words slipped out of his lips before he could catch them—not that he was really making any effort to hide his attraction for her. Still, he enjoyed the way her eyes brightened and teeth gently nibbled at her bottom lip in response to the compliment

And suddenly, the idea of merely kissing her soft flesh, tickling her sweet bud, and ultimately burying himself inside her tonight didn’t seem like enough. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to smell her hair and hear her laugh. He wanted to make her pancakes in the morning and kiss her lips, sweetened lightly with maple syrup. He wanted to love her.

No, he couldn’t possibly ruin his chance with a girl like this by fucking her on the couch in his cold, lonely apartment, never to see or hear from her again.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Of course.”

One hour and four and a half drinks later, (whiskey cokes for Y/N, vodka crans for Harry) the cramped bar was hot and they were floating on air. He’d learned that she worked at Main Street Nursery, usually by herself, sometimes with her cousin who owned the place. She was an avid vegan, but only because she hated meat and dairy made her sick. She’d learned that Harry was new in town and lived only a block away from Main. Also, Y/N managed to learn that Harry had no friends here and was very lonely in his new apartment, but only after his third vodka cran when the already weak filter in his throat began to crumble and embarrassing things spewed out of his lips like a spout.

“Let’s dance, H.” Y/N requested, gently caressing his bicep from where she sat beside him.

Oh god. No amount of alcohol would let him embarrass himself like that. “I don’t really… uh—“

But Y/N was having none of that. She thrust his half empty glass in his face, eyebrows raised in a pointed look. “Come on, baby!”

He hesitated for only a moment. Her fingers were soft and warm and distracting against his arm and it was very dark in the crowded bar, but he could easily see her bright eyes and the mischief dancing around in them. Somehow, she looked just as beautiful after putting away five whiskey cokes. Ah fuck. How could he possibly say no to her?

Harry tipped the glass against his lips, downed the bitter beverage, and finally let her tug him to the middle of the room.

A few people were dancing raunchily to the loud music, and the combination of the alcohol and the darkness and Y/N’s effortless beauty gave Harry the confidence to join them. He placed his hands gingerly around her waist, nearly flinching at the warm feeling of her skin against his. Y/N flashed him a blissful, slightly drunken grin and squeezed his bicep more firmly, relaxing in his hold.

Y/N led them in a giggly dance, letting her hands wander Harry’s body and ultimately settle around his neck. Brain foggy with an alcohol induced haze, she swayed her hips against his.

Minutes turned into an hour or so and Y/N had grown quite comfortable in the circle of Harry’s arms, fronts flushed together impossibly close.

“Wanna get out of here?” Her whisper in the shell of his ear was alluring, seductive, sweet, and almost irresistible. But Harry was on a mission—one that only included seeing her again after tonight and, ultimately, making her his. Five vodka crans weren’t quite enough to outweigh his desire for something more. No, this plan didn’t include fucking her. (At least, not tonight).

“Um, I think we should…er—slow down…”

“You don’t...you don’t wanna hookup?” She looked up at him with something like disappointment (or maybe anxiety? insecurity? He wasn’t sure) in her eyes.

“No, it’s just… I—I wanted to get to know you?”

Y/N subtly stepped away from him, just an inch or so, but more than enough for him to notice and consequently panic. “Oh um, It’s okay...I just thought—well, I didn’t think we’d really be getting to know each other…”

Ouch. She obviously was not on the same page as he was with the whole I WANT TO LOVE YOU thing he had going on at the moment. The alcohol thickened his skin a little, easing the sting of her words.

“But if I’m like...not pretty enough or nice enough I—uh...” she was rambling a little—and oh god, she must be wasted if she’s questioning her beauty. Harry’s heart hurt. How could she not see that she was perfect inside and out?

“No, Y/N! You’re perfect…it’s just—“

“I get it, um...”

“I’m sorry, you don’t understand!

“I understand, Harry…I guess I’ll just—go home now.”

Well, fuck. In an effort to prolong his time with her, he’d managed to cut it short and blow his shot to see her again at all. He kicked himself for hoping. Hope for the best, expect the worst, he reminded himself. He was just fine at the hoping part, but the disappointment in the aftermath bit even deeper than his desperate loneliness.

Back to square one.

I’m going for a plant…if Y/N happens to be there then…Harry thought as he approached Main Street, then Y/N will be there. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. He tugged nervously at the sleeves of his sweater—this one white with a “my life is crap” graphic that he found quite funny—wearing another tiny hole in the fabric. He absently regretted not taking a shot or two before impulsively jogging across the block to the plant shop, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. I’m just here to get a plant.

Truthfully, he didn’t know shit about plants, but how hard could it be? Surely, all it took was a little water and a sunny spot. Optimistic, he wandered into the cute little shop. Upon entering, he found it wasn’t really indoors at all—just four walls of greenery with only a few wooden beams as a ceiling, allowing rays of mid-morning sunshine to illuminate the space quite beautifully. Harry couldn’t help but notice how one such ray shone directly on the most beautiful creature in the shop.

The scene was even more delightful than he’d imagined. She looked ethereal doing even the most mundane tasks, he thought. The way her skin glowed in the sunlight in front of a backdrop of lush greenery? Heavenly. He took a few more moments to absently admire her as she lifted a watering can above her head with skilled hands, squinting at the sun while reaching up to water a large, leafy looking plant that hung from one of the beams.

The plant was hanging just low enough to block her view of Harry, so when he gently cleared his throat to call her name, she leaped backward. A loud thud rang out and suddenly, the watering can was no longer grasped between her fingers and her pale pink apron was stained crimson—completely drenched.

“Oh my god!” they both screeched at the same time.

Harry felt the weight of the world on his shoulders as he ran over to her. “I’m so sorry angel,” he said, picking up the now leaking can from the floor. “I really didn’t mean to scare you, oh my god, are you okay?!”

She looked a mess, quite honestly. But even covered in water and sprawled out on the concrete floor, she was cute to him, like a little bud sprouting out of the pot. She looked up at him with a contemptuous stare.

“Harry!” She cried from the floor, “What are you doing?”

While he did appreciate how adorable she looked, Harry was horrified. He hadn’t known her long, but he’d never heard her stutter or seen her blush like that. Even in their brief text exchanges and one night together, she’d always seemed so confident, so effortlessly graceful and calm. “I’m so sorry love, I really didn’t mean to—“

“Why are you here?”

“I-I just...I just wanted a plant and—and… I know you love them, and I thought there wouldn’t be anywhere better to go...”

Y/N’s expression softened as he rambled. “Okay, well, feel free to look around,” She stumbled to her feet, murmuring as she went. She wiped her hands on her soaked apron, trying to clean them but actually just spreading the wetness. “And um…Let me know if you need anything.”

She pressed a tight lipped grin on and her voice went a tinge too high pitched. She was clearly putting herself in customer service mode, but Harry caught a playful glint behind her bright eyes.

Harry flushed red and turned away from her, kicking himself for being so clumsy. He craned his head around the shop, feeling hopelessly overwhelmed. He wanted to ask her for help or at least a gentle push in right direction, but he figured he’d already bothered her enough.

Even with his back to her, Y/N’s presence was distracting. He could hear her feet shuffling around softly, the light clang of the metal watering can against the counter, even the pinging sound from her phone as he wandered the store.

Harry made a few aimless circles around before particular plant caught his eye. It was a modest looking plant, no where near as big as some of the hanging vines and rubber trees that littered the store. It had large, dark green leaves with jagged looking edges and sat pretty in a terra cotta pot near the front of the store.

He decided this plant would suit his needs perfectly (what are those needs again? He asked himself, company? responsibility?). He ultimately ignored his thoughts and the fact that he wasn’t even himself clear on what he wanted and picked up the plant in both arms. He shivered upon realizing that Y/N was probably watching him the whole time as he brought the plant to the counter where she was waiting. Watching him struggle and make a fool out of himself, that is.

“Did you find everything okay?” she asked cordially.

Harry nodded stiffly, unsure what to say. “Mmhm.”

“Have you got others?” Y/N continued making conversation while punching some numbers into the cash register, smiling and avoiding his gaze.

Harry looked up at the same time she looked away from the register. He was a little startled by her question, not expecting her to actually speak to him after what he’d done earlier. “Uh, no. I just moved here, remember?”

“Oh, right—well, you know this is an alocasia?” she said it very gently, with a patient smile. He didn’t like that she was avoiding his gaze before, but now that she was staring at him unwaveringly, he felt like he was under a microscope. Heat rose is Harry’s cheeks. Did the name of the plant matter?

“Uh, yeah? I mean, uh—I had a few back in my old place…” Why Harry? Why is your first instinct to lie?

“So you know what to do with this kind of plant?’

“Um…yeah?” He stammered, speech as rushed and clumsy as the beating of his heart. His sweaty palms further confirmed the obvious—Y/N made him nervous. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was perfect. He felt desperately out of place in front of her here. How could he possibly impress her? After he’d already fucked up more than once?

“I, well—nevermind,” Y/N replied finally, shaking her head. She was still smiling, but now he felt like she was giggling to herself because she knew something he didn’t.

“Did you want to add some Miracle Potion to your purchase today?” she asked, back in customer service mode once again.

Harry did not know what the fuck Miracle Potion was, but it sounded like a rehearsed line she was required to say during every transaction. She was looking at him so pointedly though, and the brightness of her eyes was distracting. How could he say no when she was looking at him like that?

“Yeah, why not.”

And seeing her beam at him with that lovely smile was so worth the extra eight dollars.

Harry cradled his new plant—Franklin, he’d decided—in both arms, awkwardly body-slamming his apartment door to get it open without his hands. First order of business after setting Franklin down on the coffee table was to quench his thirst. He still hadn’t gone on a real grocery trip for the new place, so he’s been living off of trail mix and kombucha. Harry craved kombucha like plants craved water.

Which brought him to the second order of business: research. He sat on the couch with his trail mix, kombucha, and laptop, quickly opening up a search for “alocasia plant care”

And suddenly Y/N’s behavior made sense.

Of course, of every plant he could have chosen at random, Harry’d gone for one of the most difficult, demanding, and definitely-not-for-beginners house plants in the shop.

He had a funny feeling it wasn’t the last time his optimism would get him in trouble.

Harry was frustrated.

It’d been less than twenty four hours since he became a father, and his once green-leafed baby was already browning at the edges. He frowned, peering at Franklin’s crisp leaves as he meticulously sprayed the Miracle Potion into the soil. The once dry dirt was starting to look a little better, but—holy shit!

Harry leaped away from the table, dropping the spray and nearly knocking himself onto his ass. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. He felt betrayed and horrified. Y/N never mentioned that there’d be bugs crawling in the soil! But Harry could not unsee the tiny worm-ish looking guy slithering up from the depths of the pot and onto the base of Franklin’s stem.

This was a mistake. A huge mistake. Who has he kidding?

He couldn’t help himself. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, dialing the plant shop’s number without a second thought.

“Hello, you’ve reached Main Street Nursery! We’re not available right now, please leave a message and we’ll call back as soon as possible.”

“Y/N! S’Harry and, oh my god there’s a bug in Franklin! I was sprayin’ the potion stuff on the soil like ya said to but then there was a big worm thing and I dunno what to do now? I’m scared Y/N, why didn’t ya tell me there’d be bugs?! Holy shit, Franklin’s gonna die, what the fu—“

A beep interrupted his ramblings, which Harry would later be grateful for. He was always a sort of ramble-y type, but adding a pretty girl and a bug-induced panic was more than enough to make him insufferably talkative.

He begrudgingly opened the Tinder app, his only other means of communicating with her. He typed out a lengthy message with rapid fingers, explaining the bug situation in between a series of colorful emojis.

thought you knew what you were doing? Y/N’s reply came in three and a half minutes later.

harry: I lied :(

(No use in lying now).

y/n: that’s alright bub. just relax, I’ll bring you some bug stickers

Bug stickers? What the fuck? He’d already made a fool of himself, so he might as well ask, he reasoned.

harry: why would I want a bug sticker?!!

y/n: just send me your address

He did as she asked, blushing profusely at the thought of her being in his apartment. Oh shit, he realized. She’s gonna be in my apartment. Realistically, he knew she probably wouldn’t even come past the front door. She’d just give him the damn stickers and then go off to whatever better things she had to do. But if Harry has any dominant personality trait, it’s optimism.

So he quickly started to tidy the living space—careful to avoid the coffee table where Franklin and his new worm-ish adversary sat. The plant aside, it’s a cute little place that screamed an unemployed single man lives here. Once the kombucha bottles and gum wrappers are thrown out, he puts way too much effort into swiping the trail mix crumbs off the couch and carefully arranging a throw blanket across the arm of it—she won’t even be coming near the couch, Harry, chill out.

When would she be coming? She hadn’t given him a time. She’d asked for his address…did that mean she was coming immediately? Maybe she’d asked for it to come by later? Or tomorrow?—

A loud knocking at the door interrupted his thoughts.

He should have expected this. Even after only meeting twice, he should’ve known she’d barge right into his living room, skirting right past him to find Franklin. The first thing he learned about her was that she owed plants and hated people.

“Um, hello love,” he said awkwardly, trailing behind her. “Thanks for coming over.”

Y/N looked up from where she was examining the plant’s leaves as if she’d just noticed him lurking behind her (very on brand for her, Harry noted to himself). He was taken with her sudden eye contact. Her eyes had that same sparkly glow as they did in the shop—they got that way when she talked about her veganism and her cousin and her plants.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you, mister Harry Styles. You’re a liar.” she said plainly. She was frowning at him (Is that a playful frown? He hoped so) “You’re a liar and it almost cost Franklin’s life.”

Harry was, once again, horrified. If he hadn’t proper fucked it up the first two times they met, he’d surely done it now. Y/N loved plants more than she loved breathing, and he’d almost killed one. And he lied to her! Fuck you’re such an idiot Harry...get it together.

Y/N must’ve seen his turmoil, (how could she not? He always did wear his heart on his sleeve) for she cracked a happy grin and smacked him playfully on the arm. “I’m just kidding Harry, for gods sake!”

“But...but the plant—“

“—will be fine.”

“And the...the bug?”

Y/N turned back to the plant and squinted into the soil. She put her hands on her hips over the fabric of her wide pants (Palazzo? Harry wondered absently. They were like those gypsy looking pants that looked super comfy—like, one step above pajamas...and damn where could I get some of those?)

“Is the bug on my ass, H?”

“W-what?” He replied, snapping out of his reverie with wide eyes. No! He blubbered, tearing his eyes away from the yellow fabric to her face, where her lips were pursed and her eyebrows were raised accusingly. He didn’t even mean to be staring at her ass (though it did look cute and peachy in the palazzo pants, he couldn’t help but notice now), but, feeling caught, he blushed sheepishly anyway.

She dropped the accusatory glare, replacing it with a wide smile. “Only joking,” she interrupted his ramblings. “Still reckon you were lyin’ about the bug jus’ to get me over here, though.”

Harry sighed exasperatedly, heart racing as he meandered around the couch toward the table where she was leaning. She kept him on his toes and it was as exhausting as it was enticing.

He got right up behind her and peered over her shoulder at the soil. “There!” He cried, almost having another heart attack at the sight of the little black bug. In a rushed attempt to show her the worm so she could get rid of it, he’d probably put himself way closer to her than necessary. He could feel the fabric of her long pants brushing his toes and her sharp breath hitch against his chest.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls of his apartment like beams of light. Looking away from the danger, he focused his attention on her instead. He couldn’t help but notice how her hair smelled like flowers and freshly mowed grass and ...honey? Something sweet and enticing and natural, like the earth. Like a sprawling meadow or rose garden or—

He’d been effectively distracted by her that he’d almost forgot the reason for his fear, the reason she was even here. That is, until the little bugger was out of the soil and crawling on her finger.

Harry screeched and leaped backward, and this time, he did fall on his ass. Right in front of the couch he’d cleaned for her while she giggled profusely. The gentle melody of her laughter and sweet little coos at the bug softened the sting of embarrassment—a little.

“Aw he’s so cute!” She prodded her other finger at the creature, which really was no bigger than her fingernail, but horrified Harry anyways. “Can’t believe Harry wanted me to come and kill you, sweet little thing.”

He was once again struck by how gentle and nurturing and sickened-sweet she got with plants and animals. Meanwhile she laughed at him and teased him ruthlessly for his dramatics.

“Here,” she said “Hold him.”

She thrust her finger into his hands from where she stood above him. Harry flinched away, but couldn’t move far enough from where he sat with his legs folded and feet planted on the ground. The worm fell into his palm. The tiny impact of it on his skin ignited an explosion of fear through him.

A millisecond passed and it crawled through the hole in the wrist of his sweater, causing his panic to quadruple.

He screamed out loud while Y/N continued laughing at him. “AH!” Harry screamed and flapped his wrists violently, throwing himself against the couch with wide eyes as he felt the horrible tickling of the creature crawling on his skin.

“Stop! Stop Harry, let me!” Y/N stepped closer, ducking between his outstretched legs. She shielded her face with one hand and desperately groped around for Harry’s wrist with the other. Finally, he paused to breathe and Y/N caught his arm in both of hers.

She wrestled his arm to still and calmly plucked the creature from his skin. “Thank God,” she sighed dramatically in relief, holding it on her finger between them. “The little fighter survived your temper tantrum!”

“No!” Harry cried, now shielding his own face from the wrath of the worm.

He watched her get up and drop the bug back into Franklin’s soil, all the while laughing at him.

“You’re such a baby, Harry,” she cooed as she turned back to where he was still sat on the floor, “And no wonder you’re so cold in here. You’ve got holes all in your sweater!”

“I’ve got holes in all my sweaters. My mum used to fix them f’me.” He frowned, missing her and his friends suddenly. Living alone was hard.

“You’re hopeless,” Y/N shook her head as she bent down to sit on the coffee table next to Franklin and sent him endeared smile. “I could fix them for you?”

Harry reeled back and blushed, “You—you could do that for me?”

Yes, living alone was hard and lonely and boring. Harry had been shamefully making excuses to see her for several days now, and yet he was completely oblivious to her doing the exact same thing.

“Sure! Come over tomorrow and bring all your sweaters.”

Harry saw absolutely no reason to object. He could never say no to her, anyways. “Okay, then.”

“In the meantime, take these…” She reached into her pocket and fished out four yellow squares of what looked like...tape?

“These are bug stickers,” she explained. “You tape them around Franklin’s stem and it’ll catch the gnats and aphids and stuff. Won’t kill your new little friend though.”

Despite her teasing tone and his lingering fear, Harry couldn’t help but smile at her while she demonstrated how to tape the bug sticker on. He’d deal with all the goddamn bugs in the world if it meant she’d be pleased with him.

She finished taping it on and turned back to him with an adorable little flourish, as if to say ta-da!

“Can I offer you some kombucha for your trouble?” Harry suddenly blurted.

What the fuck Harry? Who the fuck says ‘can I offer you—‘

“Ew, no!” She interrupted his self-loathing, face twisting in disgust, “Kombucha tastes like dish soap.”

Hurt, Harry reeled back again and a shocked expression graced his face, “You don’t like kombucha?! Don’t vegans like, live for that shit?!”

“This vegan has taste,” she replied with a snarky smirk. “And besides, I’ve got to get back to the shop for work like, now.”

“Oh, okay no problem.” Harry stuttered, “Thanks again.”

“Sure thing!”

And as quickly as she’d busted in, she was gone, leaving the apartment as cold and lonely as ever. Harry frowned, feeling as if he’d blown it once again. No ‘see you tomorrow’ or ‘thanks for having me.’ Chance after chance and still he made a fool out of himself. She hadn’t even told him where she lived! Maybe the offer to come over and get his sweaters fixed had been a pity invite and she actually wanted nothing to do with him ever again. The thought made his stomach churn. Where was his customary optimism when he needed it?

Grumbling, he grabbed a fresh kombucha from the fridge, wishing it was something stronger.

Franklin and his little worm friend’s (Harry didn’t think the bugger deserved a sweet name like the alocasia did—it was still a disgusting creature that made his skin crawl) company did little to satiate the aching loneliness he was feeling throughout the following day.

Finally, a message came through his phone from an unknown number.

unknown: hey harry, it’s y/n! did you still want to come over today?

harry: howd you get my number

Even through a screen, Harry managed to blurt out the first thing that popped into his head. Fuck. Shit. She’s gonna think he’s avoiding the question! He rapidly began composing a second message, but the three little dots appeared and interrupted his flying thumbs.

y/n: your message on the answering machine at work.

by the way, that was hilarious

harry: right, well. sorry for that

and yes, id love to come over.

y/n: no worries, i saved it to listen to when i need a laugh.

haha cool here’s my address

harry: should i bring food or wine or something?

A new wave of anxiety washed over him as he looked at the address she’d sent. Now what? What would they do? Would he just drop off his sweaters and leave? Or would she invite him in? What would he say then?

y/n: just bring yourself and your sweaters, mon petit!

Harry was speechless. Much like the shop she worked at, Y/N’s apartment could rival an actual jungle. Greenery of all different shapes and shades and sizes lined the walls, and while they had the exact same floor plan, it was an entirely different world than the one Harry was living in.

Y/N, meanwhile, effortlessly sauntered deeper into her space. She looked like she belonged there, obviously, but Harry felt like a fish out of water.

“They won’t bite, you know,” Y/N giggled, noticing his apprehension. She was watching him patiently with something like fondness in her eyes. Harry felt her careful gaze on him, but the magnificent green scene around him claimed his attention—but not for long.

Gently, Y/N took his fingers between hers and pulled him deeper into her space. Harry stumbled over his feet, craning his head to look at the plants hanging from the ceiling. How the hell did she even water those?

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He looked adorable, like a child at Disneyland. She swore his eyes were actually twinkling as the greenery in the room made the color pop against his skin even more than usual.

“This is…incredible,” He said, finally turning back to meet her eyes with his own. “You’re incredible.” He set down his bag of sweaters on the floor by his feet. They could certainly wait.

Something about the praise and the way he was looking at her like she hung the moon was making Y/N absolutely swoon for the man. It was impossible not to notice how much he adored her. He looked at her the same way she looked at Delilah, at all the things she loved. Things. She wasn’t sure she’d ever actually loved a person before. But this man with the holes in his sweaters and the permanent flush in his cheeks was planting himself deep in her heart.

But she’d never let him see that.

“…I make lots of my clothes myself…” She was talking about how she learned to sew from where she was sitting on her couch. Harry noticed that she’d arranged her living room differently than he had. While he had a single gray couch in the middle of the room, her sofa was against the window, inviting the evening sunset to gently warm the pale pink cushions.

“Did ya make those pants you were wearing the other day?” He asked with genuine curiosity, continuing to poke around the plants and knitted blankets and woven fruit baskets that littered the entire space.

Harry turned to face her just in time to catch her flashing a knowing smile. “Yes. Should I make a pair for you as well?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’m sure your ass will look great in them, too.”

“Ah—shut up!” Harry laughed, fiddling with the leaves of one of her hanging plants. He recognized this one.

An easy smile still graced his lips as he murmured “It’s a philodendron,” half to her and half to himself. Now that some of the extensive plant research he’d been doing over the past few days had indeed stuck, it was easy for him to identify by its telltale heart shaped leaves.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, “That’s right,” she said, sounding impressed. “She’s called Delilah.”

Harry hummed, unable to focus on words when she was giving him her full attention like that.

“She’d be cute next to Franklin, don’t ya think?” She continued, tiptoeing closer to him. She stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the plant much like she’d done to Franklin a few days earlier. The fabric of his brown sweater was soft against her fingers as she wrapped her arms around him. Harry tensed. He had longed to do the same thing to her when their positions had been reversed a few days ago, but chickened out. But as always, Y/N’s actions were confident and smooth. The thought of her face against his knit-clad back and the feeling of her soft hands around his middle made his head spin.

Yes, he thought, she’s cute next to everything. She’s fucking adorable…

And again, Harry was struck with the thought that he should have seen this coming. It was such a Y/N move—the way she confidently pressed on his shoulders to sit him on the couch and proceeded to smoothly kneel over his thighs. His heart raced as she sank to his eye level, straddling his lap.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” Harry said almost absently, as if lost in them. Y/N looked kind of surprised that the words came out of his mouth. She’s sort of confused by him, by the way he makes her feel. He had this nervous, chaotic energy surrounding him, as if his mind was going a mile a minute at all times. It didn’t make any difference to him though—a racing heart didn’t stop him from enjoying the feeling of the insides of her thighs against his.

Y/N suddenly grabbed one of his flushed cheeks in her palm and turned his face to hers, letting him get a good look at her eyes. “Think so?” She grinned with a hint of her customary cockiness.

Harry nodded in response to the playful question, caught up in her smirk. He reckoned it was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. Once again, she proved him wrong when she licked her lip. She studied him seductively while his own eyes, of course, flicked down to where her tongue was swiping over her lips. Her tongue was pillowy, gentle, and…distracting…In the next instant, she’d pulled his face to hers and met his lips with her own.

Despite having been mentally begging for her to kiss him since the moment they’d met, he was still a little caught off guard. Quickly, he began to relish in the feeling of her warm hand holding his cheek and soft lips pressing tenderly on his. He kissed her back gently, but with urgency—as if he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He let his hands wander slowly from her knees up her thighs, her hips, settling comfortably on her waist. His heart skipped a beat when she pulled back a millimeter.

“Is this okay?” Harry let out a concerned whisper.

Y/N smiled effortlessly and nodded. Of course it was okay, it was better than okay.

“Thought I’d proper fucked up my chance with you ages ago,” he murmured against her lips. Now that he’d gotten a taste of her sweet lips, he was truly a fucking goner.

“I thought so too, frankly,” she laughed fondly at him, “But you reeled me in with your charm and wit...” She shook her head and furrowed her brows sarcastically, “...Your true gift for horticulture, your brilliant sewing skills, your excellent taste in beverages...” she continued lecturing him in between sweet pecks on the lips.

Harry giggled at her mock-compliments, tugging her impossibly closer by the waist. She relaxed her chest into his and easily wrapped her own arms around his neck.

“You’re an absolute pest you know?” Harry teased her, confidence growing as she caressed his skin, “I oughta get a buncha those damn bug stickers to catch you!”

“You sure about that?” She smiled bigger, eyes wide and innocent as sat back on his legs. She continued to feed him sweet words as she trailed her fingers down his sweater, the mock compliments melting into sincere ones. Harry’s own smile grew as she mumbled how she adored his soft hands and blushy cheeks and gentle disposition…

Her words were innocent, but her fingers began tracking a sinful course downward, and he twitched in his sweatpants as she cheekily palmed him through the fabric. He was putty in her hands, reduced to a pile of mush by her eyes that twinkled with playful innocence and mischief and unmistakeable lust. The soft hands and gentle, innocent praises falling from her lips were making his cock bloat and head spin. Just as he was getting into it—moaning and whimpering for her to please don’t stop…she shoved her arms between his body and the couch cushion and delivered a firm squeeze to his ass.

“That’s for calling me a pest, you pest!”

She roared with laughter and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight to her chest.

Harry’s desperate, high pitched whine quickly melted into joyous laughter. He couldn’t help it—she was so lovely and beautiful and playful and cheeky and of course, he should’ve seen a stunt like this coming. She was a pest indeed, but Harry had already decided to love her. Perhaps decided wasn’t the word—no, his love for her sprouted and grew like a strong and beautiful vine holding them together.

“Now how about I make you come for real and then fix the holes in those sweaters like you fixed the holes in my heart?”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

thank you for reading <3

talk to me about harry and y/n and franklin and delilah!

[vizowrites]

omg wait have you heard of that shut up challenge that mom and kids do to prank the dad? I can imagine Blitzo putting Loona and the twins up to it and Blitzo going “kids I need one of you to take out the trash,I’m not telling you again” and one of them goes “SHUT THE F*** UP, DO IT YOURSELF” and Striker immediately going after the kid like “Who do ya think yer talkin’ to?!”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA oh Satan thank you so much for sending me this!!  I am so fucking happy right now.  :D

I hope it’s okay if I make oooooone little change here, where instead of this being purely Blitz’s idea from the start......I think it would be really fucking funny if Loona was the one who came up with the idea first.  You’ll see why in a minute. :3  

So imagine her going up to Blitz one day and being like, “Hey, so, can we do this?” and holds up her phone to show Blitz a video on Voxtigram of someone else doing the challenge.  Blitz, with a wicked gleam in his eye, wholeheartedly agrees that this is brilliant, thinking that it would be hilarious to see that moment of stupified what the FUCK did you just say?? look on Striker’s face before they let him in on the joke.

However, what he doesn’t fully realize is that Loona has a plan of her own, to switch out herself for Twist and Ty, without telling Striker OR Blitz ahead of time.  :3

So she and Blitz have this plan to do the challenge on their next day off, because that’s usually when they do most of the chores around their house and it would be really really easy to just have Blitz be like, “Loona!  Can you be a dear and wash the dishes for me?” and have it not tip off Striker as being something out of the ordinary. 

HOWEVER it actually ends up happening the night before, just after they’ve all finished having a lovely family dinner together.  Loona’s at the sink washing dishes, Striker’s standing beside her with a dishtowel casually thrown over his shoulder that he uses to dry them once she’s ready to start handing them over, and Blitz is helping Twist and Ty gather up any remaining dishes on the table and scrape their uneaten food scraps into the trash.  Neither he nor Striker catch the shared glance that sparks between Loona and her siblings as they walk past her with their plates.  

“And before you two even think about running off first, go and take the trash out,” Blitz said as he took their newly emptied plates, heading back over to the sink to give them to Loona.  

“Shut the fuck up and do it yourself, Dad.” 

The plates crashed to the ground as Blitz whipped around to face the twins with shocked, wide eyes--followed very quickly by the sound of a third plate shattering as the one that Striker had been drying fell onto the floor.  

It was, in turn, followed by the very distinct sound of a very unhappy tail rattling.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Blitz demanded as he met Twist’s eyes directly, his own every bit as stunned and outraged as his voice was--and Twist’s every bit as reckless and unrepentant as they typically were.  

“He said: “Shut the fuck up and do it yourself, Dad”,” Ty replied before his brother got the chance to open his mouth, flicking his tail out to curl around Twist’s as casually as if they were linking arms before he started to lead the way back out to the living room.  “You might want to hurry it up, too--it smells like shit.” 

They made it exactly one step each before all hell broke loose.  

“Where the FUCK do you two think you’re goin’?!” Striker’s voice came as sharp and sudden as the cracking of a whip, causing both Twist and Ty to freeze in the doorway and turn back around to look at him.  The rattling of Strker’s tail only intensified as he stepped closer, his dishtowel still in hand and flopping around as he gestured at them furiously.  “First of all, you’re both gonna fuckin’ apologize to your dad for sayin’ that kinda shit when he asks ya t’do somethin’ like that!  Just who do ya think yer talkin’ to?!  He ain’t Moxxie!!  And then second of all, you’re gonna take out that fuckin’ trash and you’re gonna be the ones takin’ out the trash for the next two weeks until ya learn to keep those trashy attitudes of yours outta this house!!”

The best part of all is that Blitz doesn’t realize what’s happening here, up until he catches a soft snort from Loona behind him and turns to see her recording all of this on her phone.

“This is fucking beautiful,” she whispers in absolute bliss as she watches as Twist and Ty frantically try to assure Striker that it was all just a joke in between laughing their asses off.  

[carolmaximoffs]

teacher’s pet

summary: ransom gets a tutor per his parents meddling, lest his family pull all financial support. 

pairings: college! ransom drysdale x virgin! reader

warnings: cussing, dirty talk, sort-of public sex (fingering... in a library...i’m sorry), reference to drinking, brief brief mention of hookup! (not w reader), loss of virginity, oral (f! receiving) uhh it’s filth alright it’s innocent reader and ransom drysdale what did you expect

UNPROTECTED SEX BUT THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION SO PLEASE WRAP IT UP

a/n: per request by someone who’s no longer on tumblr, but i wanted to finish SOMETHING in my drafts. (i started this in...gosh, august? it’s way overdue)

You’ve got to be kidding me, is the first thought to bounce across Ransom’s brain when he walks into the library that evening in January. It’s practically deserted, except for one occupant of a back table. You’re huddled over laptop, doesn’t even notice him walk in. He studies you from the doorway for a moment.

His second thought is, she’s kind of cute. He pushes that far, far away and all but stomps over to the table. You look up with a start when he clears his throat, sliding out the chair across from you and dropping his bag unceremoniously onto the table.

“Lets get this straight,” Ransom declares, folding his hands together into one fist and tucking them under his chin. It’s a move his mother had pulled in many ‘I’m-not-trying-to-control-your-life-but’ conversations. She usually paired it with an exasperated and slightly pouty look meant to guilt him into seeing things her way. He pairs it with a glower. “I don’t need a tutor, I don’t want a tutor, and quite frankly, I don’t even want to be taking this fuckin’ course. However slash comma, I need this course, so I can get the degree, build some shit from the ground up like everybody else, blah, blah, blah. So. Let’s get started.”

The girl across from him just blinks for a second. Maybe he did come off a little harsh, but he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You blink for a little longer, like you’re confused. Ransom is just about to ask if you’re deaf when you speak up. “O-okay. Right. So, I spoke to your mother-“

“Fucking fantastic.” You glare.

“I talked to your mother and she-“

“Wait a sec,” Ransom interjects for a second time. Your eyes get wide, like you’re about to lunge across the table and strangle him. “What’s your name, sugar-tits?”

You pull a face at him, somewhere between murderous and disgusted. “Y/N. Can you please stop interrupting me?”

Ransom only smiles, and you continue. His mother had emailed you in depth, evidently. Told you all about how he failed last semester, desperately needs the credit, et cetera, et cetera. Great. It sounds almost rehearsed, though, not as nervous nor hesitant as everything you say after. He gets the feeling you don’t quite know what to make of him, yet, and he intends to keep it that way.

—————————

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep.

Ransom sweeps his arm out wildly; he hears the thunk of his water bottle and the rattle of the aspirin bottle he’d preemptively put out as they hit the floor.

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep.

Finally, he manages to grasp his phone, the source of the wretched noise. Christ, his head is pounding, but he swipes to answer the call without even looking. He blinks through his migraine in the gold evening light as he croaks out a hello.

“Where the fuck are you, Hugh?”

He looks at the clock - right, right. Ransom forces a laugh through his dry throat. You’re pissed, and rightfully so. “Ransom, please, princess-“

“Don’t ‘princess’ me, prick. This is the third time this week. I’ve been at the library for thirty fucking minutes!” You hate him, hate him, hate him, but it’s been a handful of weeks now, and you know he’s positively beaming on the other end of the line. “I talked to Marcus-“

“Sweetheart,” He tries again, reaching for his water,  “Marcus? C’mon, what’d I say about talking to my friends-“

“And what did I say about getting drunk off your ass the night before we’re ‘sposed to meet up? Ransom,” And you’re so angry your voice shakes and blurs with it, with the disappointment, and oh, that shouldn’t make him stir. “Seriously. Get your ass down here. I’m not letting Linda fucking Drysdale down.”

Ah yes, Little Miss Perfect, Future Miss CEO who idolizes his mother. There’s a little click as you hang up, and Ransom chuckles to himself as he takes a swig of water. He’s really considering meeting you, too; he’s just about to slither out of bed, throw on some clothes, grab his textbook. Then his latest conquest sits up beside him and stretches tanned arms, shaking long curls from her shoulders.

“Hope that wasn’t your girlfriend. I was really hoping for a round 3.”

And hell, who is he to deny a lady? (An asshole, and a liar, and an unreliable piece of expletive along with a few other colorful insults, according to the myriad of texts from Y/N. He puts his phone on silent.)

—————————

“I’m not shocked you failed this chapter twice in a row,” Your murmur as you trace your finger under the header “Strategic Differentiation is Key: Listening to and Working with Others”. It’s late spring, the library a little more crowded as more students brave the trek across campus. He sits beside you, instead of across from you, now, thigh to thigh. “You only talk to people if it benefits you. Actually, strategic differentiation is beneficial, so I guess I am a little shocked.”

“I never wanted to be a businessman,” Ransom shrugs, leaning his chair back on two legs. Your brows furrow, and you set your pen down hesitantly, like you know they’re broaching a tedious moment. The sort of thing that doesn’t occur often - Hugh Ransom Drysdale, being vulnerable. You’re quiet, though, and he finds himself continuing.

“I wanted to be a writer like my grandpa,” He admits softly, and he doesn’t know what’s made him say it - did he hit his head in his sleep last night? - but it’s out there. It hangs between them heavily. Your fingers curl around the edges of the textbook they’re sharing.

“I...That’s really sweet, Ransom,” You murmur finally in that stupid, adorable, fucking annoyingly soft way of yours. “Really sweet.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Ransom scoffs. He shrugs it off, like everything else, shifting and slinging an arm over the back of your chair. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

“I-What?”

“You heard me. I told you something, you tell me something. Call it leveling the playing field. An eye for an eye.”

“‘An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind’,” You mutter uncertainly. You remain silent for a beat too long afterwards. Ransom leans his weight on his forearms on the table, ducking his head to speak in your ear.

“C’mon, what are you? A virgin?” He laughs at his own clever jab, but when he sits up, you still aren’t answering, face mortified. Ransom gasps exaggeratedly, grinning wickedly at his own fortune. “You are. Holy fuck. You’re a goddamn virgin.”

“Not so loud!” You hiss, slapping at his arm. You want to puke right into his stupid lap. Not that there was anything wrong with being a virgin, but hearing him say it like that... Damn him, you think, and then you huff, “Damn you.”

“Aw it’s okay, princess,” Ransom coos, and he’s mocking you, you know he’s mocking you, but something sparks in your stomach. He pinches your cheek in the way old ladies do to small children. “Nothing to be ashamed about. Not like you’re a junior in college and perfectly pretty enough to find yourself a hookup. What’s the hold-up, sugar?”

She presses her thighs together. Ransom pretends not to notice, still intent on an answer. Consumed with a combination of embarrassment and need (though mostly the former), she shrugs. “Just...waiting for the right guy, I guess.”

Ransom snorts, as if to tell her “that’s a waste of time”, or maybe because they both know it’s bullshit. But he utters nothing more on the subject, and instead picks up his pen. 

“So, I think this is what tripped me up here...” 

She can’t focus on his question. His free hand is tracing funny little patterns on her knee. 

—————————

“Ransom....” 

“Shhh,” He huddles closer to her, hushing her wary pleas. They’re at a different table, today, further in the back. He’s got a hand slipping up beneath her skirt. “Just trust me, princess. Keep on teaching me, while I teach you.”

And she does; her voice trembles, be it with nerves or need, as he dips his fingers beneath her panties. Ransom traces over her clit, teasingly, just to hear her stumble over the sentence she’s trying to explain to him. Fuck Management Skills - he was managing just fine, if he did say so himself. He prods at her entrance, gathering her slick on his finger tips, before sliding one slick digit in to the hilt. She makes a sound somewhere between gasping and choking. Ransom grins uncontrollably, ducking his head into her neck.

“So wet for me already, princess,” He whispers, a second finger joining the first. She bites her lip as he teases a third, so soon. “Come on. Focus.”

“Ransom, I can’t,” She half-whines, pages crinkling as she grips the textbook desperately. She squirms, but he’s unrelenting. “Please, we’re gonna get caught...”

“Not if you stay quiet,” Ransom replies gruffly. He experiments, just a little; they’d been making out before, after, during their sessions for a couple of weeks now. Each time, he grew bolder. Ransom hooks his fingers one instance - pumps them rapidly the next. When she’s come apart all over his hand, receiving a pinch to her oversensitive clit just to see her flinch, your lip is bleeding from biting so hard.

Ransom hasn’t learned shit about delegation, but he knows now how to make her cum.

_______________________

You’ve never been to Ransom’s before; of course, he’d swung a small apartment just on the edge of campus. Your skin trembles even as you try to steel yourself. You know Ransom hadn’t asked to relocate your tutoring session because he was tired. The two of you had practically finished the course, anyway, and he really was grasping it without your guidance at this point. You weren’t naïve; he wanted privacy.

Your suspicions are proved right as soon as you step inside. The moment you’ve toed off your shoes, he’s sweeping you into a heavy kiss, fingers twisting into the hair at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses into your throat; just pressure, nothing serious, but you still squeak. Ransom all but growls, free arm hooking about your hips.

“Jump, honey,” He says into your mouth, and you do, legs tight about his waist. He carries you through the apartment without a hitch; you knew there was some beef hiding beneath all those damn sweaters. You’re dropped a little carelessly onto what is unmistakably his bed; of course the bastard’s got silk sheets. Ransom tosses his shirt somewhere behind him, sliding cold fingers beneath your shirt. “This alright?”

And you half think it’s sweet of him to ask, but you also know his mother, and would frankly be surprised if he didn’t ask. Embarrassment and, honestly  dignity out the window, you arch into his touch. “Please.” 

Ransom makes quick work of your pants and undergarments; he’s still clad in sweatpants that probably cost more than you want to imagine as you lay naked before him. He looks more like a predator than ever, expression absolutely ravenous as he levels his face with your dripping center.

“Oh, I’ve never-” You stutter, face burning as he looks up at you as if bored with your voice. When Ransom speaks next, his breath has goosebumps crackling down your thighs.

“I know, baby. Just let me take care of you, hmm?” And all you’re capable of is a rigid nod before you’re throwing your head back as his tongue traces figure eights on your clit. 

“Fuck!” You cry, and he hums something akin to a laugh into your core. His thumbs spread you open further as his tongue laps at your impossibly wet entrance; when he sucks at your clit, you almost scream. Ransom, still teaching himself your ins and outs, reaches up to tweak a nipple, and you thrash. That’s when he sits up.

“Was so...close...” You pant, bringing your chin to your chest with more effort than should be necessary. His weight has left the bed; he’d stood to rid himself of his pants, unsurprisingly having gone commando. You’re gifted with the glorious sight of his impossibly thick thighs as Ransom smirks, pumping his thick, leaking member lazily.

“When you cum today, baby, it’ll be on my cock,” The blond promises darkly as he clambers back onto the bed. His bulbous tip slides up and down between your glistening folds, and he groans, basking and unashamed in his own arousal. “And only...gah, fuck....only on my cock.”

You whimper in response as he pushes right in to the hilt. He wiggles his hips, swivels a bit; you’re unsure of whether it’s to fuck with you or make sure he’s snug within your throbbing heat, but you moan none the less. Ransom takes this as the okay to begin thrusting, and any discomfort quickly dissipates as he thumbs at your clit in tight circles. For the first time since you’d met him, there’s not an ounce of snark or irritation; he swings a knee over one arm, managing to angle up against your sweet spot each time, and your hands scrabble for purchase on his shoulders. 

“Ransom...fuck, Ransom, please, I-” You whine as he pushes your knee toward your chest, pounding you ever harder in juxtaposition with his soft shushing.

“I know, princess, I got you,” Ransom grunts, forehead sweat-slick as he presses his face into your neck. He nips, just barely, breath coming hard and heavy. “Just let go, baby, right there with you, c’mon...” 

With a cry that has Ransom clapping a hand over your lips, you cum, legs practically vibrating as you thrash with the force of it. Ransom’s hand doesn’t leave your clit until you’re nearly sobbing from the overstimulation; just like he’d promised, moments after your own orgasm, he slips out of your channel. You can’t truly identify the feeling swirling in your gut as he spills his seed across your torso, nor as he trails two fingers through it and brings it to your lips.

“Hey,” Ransom heaves after a heavy silence, the both of you still naked with his fingers still being laved by your tongue. “Did I ever tell you about my A in Management? Grade went up like, two weeks ago. I told you that, right?”

You bite down on his fingers in reply.

[i8jisoo]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 ⇉  skz with pregnant!reader 

bangchan x reader | first part of dad!skz

↬ genre; fluff & a tinge of angst

↬ warnings; pregnancy, birth, talk of vomiting, and lots of cursin

↬ notes; fuck i love bangchan sm and im excited dis the first part of daddy!skz o whateva

from the moment he knew, he honestly was scared at first and just wanted to pretend like he wasn’t going to be a father

he needed time to evaluate it all, he was honestly confused and scared, he was nervous and doubtful of his parenting skills and providing eighteen years + many years after for his child

u were nervousssss as helllllllllllllll to tell him what was up

“well, i’m- y’know- baby?” you tried to get out, ur words were hella scrambled and he was confused before he came to the realization of what you meant 

silence which is vv concerning 

u knew this was a shot in the dark sorta, u two weren’t even public on the relationship let alone public about a pregnancy?

u guys ended up taking a break for about a month, really not knowing what to say to each-other

u two were afraid, which was normal, u just rly didn’t expect it from chan of all people to walk away from u

anybody else u could expect,, but this?? this was unlike him & u were more scared by that

he wound up at your place, box in hands

(u were kinda at ur breaking point bc u thought he was returning ur things)

(newsflash it was his stuff)

“i’m sorry, i just— being a father? being a parent, i don’t.. i don’t know anything about it, but nobody does when they become one. so, i’m gonna figure it out with you.”

going through the first sonograms w him & crying a lot while u two talked about the future

ur hormones r going to be the death of chan

u are 0-100 holy mooolyy

hes very careful with his choice of words and how he delivers them, not wanting to upset you

chans first present for the baby is a kangaroo, with a matching little joey 🥺

he also is surprisingly a very big fan of kanga from winnie the pooh, which he buys winnie the pooh stuff for the baby JSJSJSJSJJS just bc kanga & roo remind him of u n the baby 🥺🥺🥺🥺 (i rly need to stop)

u were a lil big, having a cute big bump to pair with ur pregnancy, the inevitable announcement was needed to happen if u were ever going to step outside again

chan rly didnt want to announce it bc he didnt know what peoples reactions would be :(

he knew he was only twenty-seven so some people might think it was a bit too early to have kids, but he thought it was perfect the way it was

u guys hid it until u couldn’t, sparking little rumors of ur pregnancy but u both decided not to confirm them

chan obsessing and literally worshipping you in your third trimester

u in his shirts? he was fuckin over

kisses and cuddling all the time, no matter how tired u were or he was, u two would either fall asleep while doing so or lay there for awhile before u were like

“ok i gotta pee, help me up!!”

no but frfr this baby was torturing u the last stretch of ur pregnancy

it seemed that anything u ate either made u throw up or gave u heartburn

ur stretchmarks were getting worse & it seemed like u were getting bigger everyday

u were very insecure the last months, just cause a lot of comments were talking about a bit of weight gain in ur face, which fuck,, u would never be hurt by some comments but with ur hormones and KNOWING u have put on weight, u rly didn’t feel the same

ofc chan knows whats up and hes there to tell u some r e a l s h i t

“okay, yes. you have put on weight, but you’re pregnant. that’s the good thing about it, you’re healthy okay? whether you had a small bump and no extra weight put on or a big bump and extra weight put on, you are carrying a baby. you can lose the weight when it’s over, right? you don’t need to feel this way, okay? i’m the only one who you should listen to about your appearance, i’m here to tell you the truth. you are beautiful. you are the morher of my child, that’s what you are. you’re not ugly, or fat, you’re not anything bullshit that people say to you.”

when u started crying, chan panicked

“nononononoono, don’t cry baby!”

his arms were wrapped around you so tightly, feeling your face pressed against his shoulder and your arms around his neck

“i love you.” u would be rly quiet and his heart would break at the sound but ur i love you, he just— it was so real and he’d never felt like this before

“love u too.” he’d say that shit so proudly and kiss the TOP OF UR HEAD SO SOFTLY 🥺🥺🥺

when u finally went into labor, u were like wow this hurts a F U CK TOO NNN

u woke up to the bedsheets soaked underneath u, pins n needles were all u could feel

u kinda sat there for ten minutes, scaring urself n making urself nervous when u started doubting yourself and feeling the pain become stronger

ur hands were s hh aa kkyy

u would tap chan so softly and feel a little frustrated he didnt wake up but like how tf was he supposed to feel that 😳

u kinda started crying now because u were STRESSED and him not waking up (no shit ur little tap wasnt gonna work but) it felt like he was gonna sleep forever

so ur hands pressed on chan’s shoulders, shaking them a little bit and letting out a,

“chris?” which ur voice was quiet as hell, shaky as hell, and wavering as you whispered to him

him opening his eyes to see your teary ones n hes just so sad that his heart drops 🥺

he never wakes up quicker though and hes sitting up fast as fuck

“what? what’s wrong?”

ur literally sobbing and hes freaked out by this because u have never cried like this

he kinda just wants to go back to bed since ur just crying but he knows smth is probably wrong because ur SOBBING so

“my water broke.”

now its his turn to be nervous cause fuck he is feeling so unprepared

he said fuck shoes on u, slipping u into his own clothes and helping u into the car so u two could go

did i forget to mention the hospital was an hour away 😳

he wants to pull over hearing u whine n grip his hand, noticing ur quietness and ur little mumbles everytime u rest ur head back after a contraction

he doesn’t give a fuck, he will carry u into the hospital and then put u in a wheelchair from the entrance so u don’t have to walk

u have a feeling maybe hes more nervous than u but atm ur fuckin close to losing it over the pain

u two are settled into a room, epidural done and just trying to make u comfortable now

u were seven centimeters which u still had to wait but u both knew u were close to meeting ur baby

when u are at ten centimeters though, chan is just a ball of tears and he’s just so proud of you

your hand was in his the whole time, chan’s lips near ur ear and he’s just whispering for u to concentrate on him and how much u wanna meet the baby

“i—i can’t do it!” 🥺🥺

you were honestly so drained and ur forehead was laced with sweat, ur hands sweaty and shaking in his own from being nervous and slowly becoming weaker as u put ur strength into pushing

“baby, you are probably what? three pushes, maybe you can cut it to one and a half. alright? you can do this baby, we’re so close to meeting our baby.”

that’s all u needed n chan knew it

surprise surprise,, chan was right about one and a half

“it’s a boy!!” which chan would press his lips to yours so quickly, u two crying and letting out watery laughs as your baby boy cried 🥺

he hasn’t felt this much pride and love since debut or releasing an album or tour, he couldn’t express how gifted he was to have deserved the gift of being a father

ofc they introduce you both to kangaroo care, chan so ready to take off his shirt and feel his baby boy’s skin against his own warm skin and he did so

then it was ur turn to hold him the same way, chan asking u if he could pull down ur gown so u could hold him like he did

that was the picture he needed, snapping it and getting you holding the baby against your naked (ofc ur gown was covering ur breasts) chest, your son sleeping soundly with his hands pressed against you

u two were parents now, u both had learned about pregnancy together and now u two were going to explore parenthood together

©️ maysdiors 2020 :: all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[arrowflier]

serotonin boost prompt whenever you find the time: gallavich date with secret smiles, sweet kisses and the handholding we all deserve ❤️❤️

"We're gonna miss it, Mickey," Ian says for at least the third time, eyes on the ever-ticking clock over their fireplace.  Mickey, kneeling on the floor in front of the worn sofa they had grabbed off a curb when they found out they had to get their own, just shrugs.  He picks out a bright red crayon to pass to Franny, who's laying on her stomach next to him scribbling on the back of an ad for the local co-op.

"Calm down, man," he tells Ian.  "She'll be here soon, can't do anything about a late train."

Ian sighs, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes.  "Since when do you stand up for Debbie?"

Mickey eyes him warily from the floor.  "Since it's not her fault," he answers, then asks, "Why you so worked up about it, anyway?  It's not a big deal."

He sounds honestly confused, and it only makes Ian more upset.  This was supposed to be their night.  Their one night, all week, to just do something nice together.  And Debbie had to come to them for last-minute babysitting while she went to an interview, then had to be late enough getting back to send all Ian's plans circling the drain.

He doesn't say any of that to Mickey.  "It's nothing," he mumbles instead, knowing it sounds unconvincing but not really caring at the moment.

Sure enough, Mickey's eyes narrow and he opens his mouth to reply, but gets interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Mommy!" Franny cries, jumping off the floor to race to the apartment door.  Mickey is slower to rise, grumbling about getting too old for sitting on the floor; if Ian we're in a better mood, he'd tease him for being perfectly fine with lying on it the other night.  Ian stays put, leaving Mickey to follow their niece with a concerned glance back at him.

Ian listens to Mickey opening the door, reminding Franny to let him do it, and greeting Debbie.  He knows if he followed, he'd say something about her tardiness, so he lets Mickey make his excuses and wave the two of them off.

He braces himself when he hears the door click closed again, and Mickey's footsteps come back around into the living room.

Mickey doesn't say anything about his sour mood.

"Kay, you ready?" he asks instead, grabbing his wallet from the crate temporarily serving as a coffee table.

Ian laughs humorlessly.

"I was ready an hour ago," he points out dryly.  "But we missed our reservation already, Mick, we're not going anywhere now."

Mickey frowns at him.  "Nah, fuck that, man," he says.  "This is our night, right?" he asks, and Ian would be lying if he said that didn't warm him up a little, hearing Mickey call it that.

"Yeah," he agrees, and Mickey nods decisively.

"Let's go then," he orders, gesturing to the door.  "I ain't givin' up on tonight that easy."

Ian can't help but grin, even as he asks, "go where?"

Mickey smirks, and slaps Ian on the ass when he gets up and walks past him.  Ian starts, twisting to look at him with wide eyes, and Mickey waggled his eyebrows just to make Ian laugh.

"You let me worry about that, tough guy."

--

They end up outside the restaurant they had picked out together, some weird new mexican fusion place that advertised world-class margaritas.  Mickey had gotten fond of the drink back in Mexico, and Ian figured it was something they could enjoy together.

"Mickey," he says as they get closer, " it took us two weeks to get in here, there's no way they held our table."

Mickey shakes his head.  "Gallagher, I'm disappointed in you," he says as he leads Ian to the door.  "Ain't conning you way into places your family's shtick?"

Ian just looks at him, brow furrowed, and Mickey rolls his eyes.

"Just hang back a sec, til I wave you over, alright?" he demands.  "Watch and fuckin' learn."

And he's off, through the crowd at the entrance and straight up to the podium at the front.  Ian can't hear what he says, but there are some wild gestures and hushed but tense words exchanged.  At one point, Mickey gets out his phone and taps at it impatiently, pretending to wait for a response before waving it in the host's face.

That bit seems to do the trick, and Ian is waved over, picking his way through the other waiting groups without looking any if them in the face.

When he gets to the front, Mickey is saying, " and you're lucky he didn't have to hear any of that 'overbooked' bullshit, he'd have your fuckin' job for that," before taking off into the restaurant with Ian trailing behind.

He stops at a booth toward the back, and gestures Ian in first, sliding into the bench on the other side.

"What did you do?" Ian hisses lowly, leaning across the table toward him.

Mickey grins, and taps their feet together, catching one of Ian's and drawing it back to his side. 

"Told 'em you were Ed Sheeran," he jokes.  He reaches under the table to grab Ian's leg, pulling his foot up to rest on Mickey's lap.  Ian has to lean back to make it comfortable, but the stroke of Mickey's thumb against the bone of his ankle is worth it.

"You did not," Ian pokes, but Mickey shrugs.

"Does it matter?" he asks quietly as a waiter approaches.  Ian pulls his leg back, aware of how they must look, but takes Mickey's hand over the table instead.

"Guess not," he accepts, squeezing Mickey's fingers and feeling the metal of his ring.  "Thanks," he adds, and Mickey's smile turns soft.

"Anytime," he murmurs, then grabs the menu to give his order.

--

"That was amazing," Ian groans an hour later, a stack of empty plates between them.  Mickey hums his agreement, taking a final bite of fried ice cream dessert before tossing his spoon down with a clatter.

"Fuck yeah it was," he says with a burp that has the couple at the nearest table eying them with distaste.  "Except the margaritas," he adds with a scowl, taking a long drag from the bottled beer they had quickly switched to.  "Too fuckin' sweet."

"Thought you liked 'em sweet," Ian teases, leaning closer, and Mickey licks his lips.

"Nah," he says slowly, "that's just how I like my men."  He winks, and Ian flushes immediately.

"Oh my God," he manages to squeak out, hands flat on the table.  "You did not just say that." 

Mickey laughs, open and free, and grabs Ian's hand again without prompting.

"The drinks were shit, though," he muses.  "Now that I think of it, maybe I was just drinkin' straight tequila down south."

It's Ian's turn to laugh--"only you, Mick"--and they're both grinning like fools when he stops.

"Ready to get outta here, Red?" Mickey murmurs, tilting his head toward the end of the booth.

"Sure, Mick," Ian agrees easily, then let's go if his husband's hand to fumble for his wallet.  "Let me just..."

"Hey, no," Mickey interrupts.  "They gave away our reservation, man, we ain't payin' for shit."

"What--Mickey!" Ian whispers, but Mickey is already up and moving quickly toward the back, where he catches the door to the kitchen before it closes behind a surprised waiter and slips inside.

With a muffled groan, Ian takes off after him.

He almost makes it, but before the door shuts behind him, he hears the host yelling, "Hey, you can't go in there!"

"Shit, shit, shit," Ian mutters, faced with at least one sous-chef staring at him across the bustling kitchen.  Before he has time to panic, though, Mickey is back at his side, grabbing his arm and pulling.

"This way, dipshit!" he hisses as they wind through counters and racks and boxes toward the door to the back alley.  "Should've known you'd get caught," he pants, out of breath, "it's the fuckin' hair, man, too bright."

"You like my hair," Ian offers stupidly.  Mickey stops long enough to make sure Ian sees him roll his eyes, and grabs a folded tablecloth and a bottle of something fancy from next to the door before he shoves it open with a hip and pulls Ian out into the cool night air.

Ian looks back for pursuit, but the kitchen workers couldn't care less.  One of them even salutes him with a bread knife, lips twitching, until the door closes and breaks their line of sight.

They run for a few blocks anyway, until Mickey tugs him into a different alley to catch their breaths.

"That was some date night," Ian pants, hands on knees and a wide grin on his face.

"Night ain't over yet," Mickey disagrees.  He pushes off the brick wall he had leaned against, motions back to the street with the arm not holding what he pilfered from the restaurant kitchen.  "C'mon, man, we got somewhere to be."

Then he's off again, albeit at a more sedate pace, and Ian laughs again as he follows.  He catches up with a few long strides and grabs Mickey's hand, letting his husband lead him once again.

--

This time, they wander farther, only stopping when they come to a park with overly green grass and a neatly manicured baseball diamond.

It isn't their field, the one with the dugout they used to frequent; that field is back Southside, and they haven't walked that far.  But it's close, and Ian's heart pounds as Mickey leads him around the open fencing and toward the outfield.

They stop at the greenest point, and Mickey releases Ian's hand to throw down his stolen tablecloth, kicking the edges until it's more or less flat and open.  He plops down immediately, just off center, and motions for Ian to do the same as he uses his pocket knife to uncork the stolen bottle of booze.

Ian sits as Mickey takes a swig of the mystery liqour, then accepts the bottle when he passes it over.

"This is nice," he says after a long sip of what turned out to be a moderately pleasant red.  "How did you know it was here?"

Mickey reaches for the bottle again, taking another swallow before he answered.  "Was helping Debs look at schools," he admits.  "For Franny, when she's older."

Ian doesn't press.  He loves how much Mickey dotes on their niece, but he knows talking about it makes him uncomfortable still, their own future hanging over them.

He lays down instead, and looks up. The stars are out, glittering above them in patterns he doesn't understand, but thinks must mean something good.

"Thanks for tonight," he says softly to the sky.

The tablecloth rustles as Mickey leans on his elbows next to him.

"Anytime," he replies. He looks down at Ian, and turns on his side so he can brush red hair back from his face.

"Gonna tell me why you were so upset, earlier?" he questions, voice light but serious. "Not like you to freak out like that."

Ian nuzzles into the hand on his face, and closes his eyes. "Just wanted to do something for you," he admits. "You were so excited about finding that place. And you're always doing stuff like that for me."

His eyes flutter open again, fixing on Mickey's face. "Figures the first time I try, everything goes wrong and you have to take over again."

Mickey doesn't respond right away. He watches him, thumb stroking his cheekbone, hand curling around behind his ear.

When he does speak, it's quiet. "I like doin' that shit for you, Ian," he says. "Makes me...happy. To see you smilin'."

Ian's lips stretch into a gentle curve, and Mickey returns it. "Yeah," he whispers, leaning down until their noses brush. "Like that," he finishes, the words lost against Ian's lips as they kiss.

Ian doesn't know how long they stay there, laying on that thin piece of fabric over the grass, making out under the stars. He doesn't care. Because it's Mickey. And despite everything that went wrong tonight, being there with Mickey was perfect.

They're eventually interuppted by what feels like rain, but turns out a second later to be the timed sprinkler system switching on. Mickey yelps into his mouth at the cold water as they break apart, scrambling to dash across the field and to the relative safety of the sidewalk. They leave the tablecloth where it is, a sad heap if fabric wet with water and remainder of their overturned bottle of red wine, and fall against each other as they turn to head toward home.

"Still wanna thank me?" Mickey jokes on the way, teeth chattering as his skin dries.

"Yeah, I do," Ian says, nudging him with a hip before pulling him back, wrapping a long warm arm around his shoulders.

"Tonight was perfect."

And if they stop again to kiss against under the L on their way, Mickey's back pressed to the support and legs hugging Ian's waist, well. It is still their night, after all.

[bular]

Welcome to Live Commentary

I had no one to talk to while watching the movie and I hate being alone with my thoughts so I wrote everything down in my notes app. It's not coherent! Enjoy!

Aw yeah 1.5 seconds of Bular that is all I needed! Might as well stop now I've seen my boy I'm satisfied.

Why is there a nearly 4 minute recap as if I haven't watched the show at least 50 times. I should be the one giving the recap.

The beginning felt a bit forced to me but maybe that's just me? Like they just tried to squeeze too many things into a small timeframe without any buildup, it just didn't really work. Congrats on the engagement! This is my OTP so I'm very happy! But it came out of nowhere.

Nari in Douxies body is so wrong and I love it and hate it at the same time (positive)

Eli is BIG. I knew he was gonna be tall but I was not prepared for that chiseled face. Or the fact that he stepped off the ship without glasses? I wear glasses and I would not choose to step off a spaceship blind.

OkAY who had mpreg on their bingo card?

AAARRRGGHH actually said a full sentence 🥺 there is no heterosexual explanation for this scene and I'm here for it

Arcadia being the center of the universe really does make a lot of sense. I hate how much sense it makes. Despise it.

Strickler in a Christmas sweater is something i didn't know I needed. Jim's jacket too but that's just adorable, Jim's adorable. Oh sweet baby you're about to get fucked over so bad.

Love seeing Barbara actively participating in battle too. Good for her! Power family!!

Where are the kids tho? Is NotEnrique babysitting? Either that or they hired the girl from the Incredibles movie.

Nomura is so talented I love seeing her fighting on the good side. I can't explain it but I love digitigrade legs they're just so pretty?? Aesthetically pleasing??? Fuck yeah, legg! I could watch Nomura run around and be badass all day.

WAIT NO OH SHIT HOW DARE YOU FUCK

STRICKLER DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE NOT YOU TOO THAT'S TOO FUCKING RUDE DON'T DO THIS TO ME

THERE'S NO WAY HE'S DEAD RIGHT WE SAW NO BODY

Barbara does not deserve this I refuse to accept it. He's fine he'll be back they wouldn't kill two Changelings at once. Also Nomura is with Draal now I take no criticism.

So my favorite characters were Bular, Draal, Gunmar and Angor. And before this movie I always half-joked that everyone I love dies, how I still like Strickler and Nomura but apart from them all of my faves were killed in the very order of favoritism. AND NOW LOOK AT THIS. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I LOVE A CHARACTER. MY LOVE IS TOXIC.

OKAY I LOVE GUN RO- WAIT NO I DON'T LOVE HIM FUCK ABORT ABORT

It's great tho omg

I didn't realize it was Gun Robot when I saw it in the trailer this is amazing

Okay but imagine you're chilling in your trollmarket minding your own business when some misfit group of strangers waltzes in, steals your favorite shiny and celebrates your death before running off

"I AM GUN ROBOT" IS THE HORN LMAOOO

Nana better show up at some point to reunite with her boytoy, I'll cancel this entire franchise otherwise

Something bad is going to happen to Toby isn't it. He's getting too much screentime

Jim's hand got DEEP FRIED

ARCHIE NO

We can play Scrabble okay if they don't free them (which they must) I want an after credits scene of them playing scrabble

Douxie and Nari's bond 🥺🥺🥺

Nari pls just say what you fuckin mean the world is ending

Oh god is she going to remember killing Nomura oh nooo

Claire don't make the portal you will die again. Your hair gon be white all over

EVERYONE AVOIDING THE SCHOOL JUST RIGHT THERE LMAO RIP

I love how Darci is just with the school bus. Civilian girlfriend. But also love how the world is ending and Coach is like "fuck that I'm gonna teach these kids"

Does he know his son is pregnant

"Going back to the city where it's safe" buddy have you been to that city

Whatever happens, Nari has the coolest looking titan. Giant four legged gremlin. I'd adopt him.

WAIT SHE CAN FEEL THE PAIN?

Me: oh i love that titan

The titan 5 seconds later:

Did Nari just fucking die what the FUCK

Oh of COURSE the pages are stuck together RIGHT THERE

Seriously tho how do you not notice an entire nougat nummy in a book

Wait so Arcadia has another heartstone? Or OH SO IT'S ALIVE. OKAY GREAT. GUNMAR COULDN'T EVEN DO THAT RIGHT HUH

Love how the Heartstone has been dormant/dead for months and apparently heard Blinky say it's alive and decided to wake up RIGHT THEN

Finally they're evacuating the city. This is like, the third apocalypse there. About time.

Okay so you can't pull Excalibur from the rock, but you CAN carve out the stone. Couldn't you just carve it off the sword as close as possible and like. Use that? Just swing the whole damn rock around?

God i can NOT get over Steve's pants. I mean I read a spoiler he was gonna be pregnant but I thought it was a prank or shitpost. I did not see this coming and I am never going to be over it. I love how he and Aja just roll with it and nobody else even cares. They've seen weirder stuff. So he's pregnant now. Whatever.

Jim's hand is bandaged and his ribs still hurt. I love that they're actually consistent with his injuries. I mean sucks for him but hell yeah for hero that doesn't always win!

Okayyy here comes the heartstone. Why not!

IS HE IN LABOR

So if you kiss an Akiridion 7 times you will have 3-5 babies in a few hours. How are they not overpopulated?? Also Aja couldn't have WARNED STEVE BEFOREHAND?

Eli is so supportive omfg

So uh where are the babies gonna come out of? I'm not into mpreg how does this usually work

OH STEVE THANKS FOR ASKING MY QUESTION

Oh good thing he happens to have 8 friends still alive. Otherwise this would've never worked. Nomura had to die otherwise there would've been 10 of them.

Why is everyone bowing to Jim? Did they rehearse this?

Stuart if you hadn't taken a bathroom break you would've thrown off the math and doomed the world. That was a poop of fate my man

Ahhh the signature quote. Where did Douxie and the Akiridions learn it? Did they rehearse this too? It's really cliché but I do like it tbh

If Strickler were dead we'd see more Barbara right?

WOOO BLINKY DRIVING

Ah Jim just used she/her for Bellroc! Finally we're learning some pronouns. I've been wondering this whole time.

MY VIRGIN EYES. WHAT IS GOING O N

How are they not dying with all this lava?

She really just yeeted Varvatos

Did Claire just tell AAARRRGGHH to jump off the titan and he did it without question

I want to say I like Stuart and want him to have more screentime, but I won't say it because I don't want him to die

Jim's poor ribs

Toby can drive yoooo

Tobyyy you're scaring meeeee

So did they really need the different stone or was the amulet just waiting for Jim to choose death over giving up

I saw the armor before but it looks VERY COOL

Also I didn't mention this before but I love that they cut Merlin's name from the incantation. Good for them.

Toby you lost your helmet noooo

For real tho I'm terrified for Toby rn. I saw a comment somewhere earlier that just said "Toby no" with no context and I am AFRAID

So do Bellroc's eyes work after all? I thought she was blinded back in Wizards in the past.

DID SHE JUST FUCKING STAB MY BOY

TOBY YOU SHOULD NOT BE THERE GET OUT THE TRUCK

Bellroc maybe screaming "i'm powerless" in front of your enemy isn't the best idea

She sploosh

DID JIM SURVIVE THAT FALL AND ALSO IS THE TACO TRUCK OKAY

How is he lifting Claire like that buddy you have bruised ribs and just got stabbed

ELI HI CAN WE SEE THE KIDS

SEVEN KIDS! AND ELI JR I LOVE IT

This show really loves to give people more than the recommended amount of babies with no warning huh

She immediately knows which one is Eli Jr 🥺 okay listen I'm not the biggest fan of comic relief sideplot surprise babies, but I have to admit they're cute. Cute couple. Throuple. Eli is in on this. He even has a Junior.

I TOLD YOU WHERE'S THE DAMN TACO TRUCK NANA WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU AND NEITHER WILL I

Oh yea he better fuckin be alive I will commit murder

HE BETTER FUCKIN BE ALIVE BITCH

FUCK YOU

THAT'S A WHOLE ASS CHILD HE ISN'T ALLOWED TO DIE IT'S ILLEGAL

JIM IS GONNA LOOK DOWN AT THE GREEN GLOWING BITCH AAARRRGGHH CONVENIENTLY THREW THERE AND SEE HIM ALIVE OR SOMETHING

YEAH USE THE SWORD TO UNDEAD HIM! THAT'S HOW YOU USE SWORDS!

Unbecoming Part 2

So is Jim just gonna Groundhog Day it until everyone is fine? There's only 13 minutes left we're gonna need a bigger movie

Also I screamed so much about everyone's death and now everyone reading this after they already saw the whole thing is gonna shame me for clowning huh

The scene where Blinky is giving his goodbye speech, there are no babies and Steve has a round belly? Did he reabsorb them?? I mean I know Jim is about to un-birth them but he hasn't started yet

JUST HOW FAR BACK IS HE PLANNING TO GO

WAIT HOLD UP EXCUSE ME WHAT

Oh they did NOT just do that. I though he was just gonna go back to like, the start of the movie maybe. Not all the way

Imagine being in your early twenties with as much trauma as this kid has and having to pretend you're 16 again

Somewhere Unkar is complaining because "oh sure NOW it's a good idea"

I know Jim is wondering where Toby is because he was there before. But before, he made an entire meatloaf AND did his homework before leaving the house, so honey maybe wait a minute

For a second I thought Toby wasn't gonna be there and Jim would return to the right time. But there he is!

Alright so they're in school now, did they take the canal and just didn't mention the amulet on screen or did they pass it as if the Unbecoming episode hadn't been that traumatizing? Jim you know what happens when you ignore it

Jim maybe you're being too obvious here lmao

Soooo. Anyway. These whole past years I've rewatched this show over and over and over again are cancelled now?

OKAY AT LEAST WE SAW NANA FOR A SPLIT SECOND THAT'S IRONIC TIMING

So we get the quote again. And Trollhunter Tobias is nice. Cool. Cool AU I mean, but I don't know. I don't knowwww. I've been way too invested in everything to just accept that it never happened?? So uh. Hm. How about this.

Strickler survived because fuck you, and Toby also survived and just has scars now. Maybe a wheelchair but he's fine, also he can use the Warhammer for super speed and make it awesome once he's used to it. Archie and Charlie get freed once they rebuild the bridge (and they were playing scrabble to pass the time). Nomura is still dead because she died on screen and I can't really deny that but she's with Draal so it's okay. Everyone is traumatized but they'll be fine. NotEnrique is still babysitting 500 babies and Steve is about to bring 7 more.

In summary, I reject Groundhog Day ending but everything else was great, as long as it actually happened. It was a good movie. But you can't just cancel years of passion. Having the prospect of a million "canon AUs" sounds great for writing but at the same time nooo you can't do that he didn't have to go back THAT far HHHHH

I liked the movie. It was a great watch and a satisfying end to a franchise, but I gotta say I do not fancy the ending of it so I will from now on be in denial. I honestly feel kind of betrayed that this show was my whole life for so long, I learned every smallest fact, and they basically deleted it from existence. I know what they were going for, I think, but no thank you I will be going with my own opinion. Still gonna rewatch it a few dozen times though ✌🏻

And that concludes my live commentary that was supposed to be a small handful of notes. Feel free to shame me for my opinions. See ya!