#so a false alarm is gonna fuck me up

[faethfigueroth]

.

[piningpercussionist]

(ooc)

I want you all to know that if I had the energy for it. There are so many posts stored in my drafts I long to queue... but neglected to preemptively tag, despite knowing I am Like This....

Anyway, there is a slight chance the queue might run out tomorrow unless I can get more responses in there-- I am,, tired,,

[arolesbianism]

The "oh god one of my dupes caught hypothermia I need to help them immediately" to "I get it you're scalding stop crying it's only like 120 degrees" pipeline

[strang3lov3]

GameStop

Summary: Mall Rats 4! (Can be read alone or, catch up with the mallrats in my masterlist) Joel tells you not to fuck with the Nintendo he stole from GameStop. His one rule. You fuck with it. That’s okay, though. Joel makes you play Mario with his fingers knuckle deep inside you.

Warnings: JOEL IS WEARING GRAY SWEATPANTS THIS IS NOT A FUCKING DRILL🚨‼️ fingering, teasing, edging, orgasm denial blowjobs, unprotected piv, creampie, jjoel is so tender and such a dick, arguing, inglewood up to no good, domestic moments, minor injuries, when will these two fucking kiss!?? Idk

W/C: 4.6k

A/N: thank you very much @papipascalispunk i appreciate you taking the time to edit this. I love you so much. did you know that? And everyone else, do you know how much I love y’all for reading and engaging? I do. In case you didn’t know already 🥰

Joel stands in front of your house early afternoon on Saturday, a box of cords and plastic in one hand as he urgently knocks on your door, “Open up,” he barks, “This shit’s heavy.”

“Fuck,” you groan, walking up to your front door wearing nothing but an ill-fitting t-shirt and some old boxers. You can see Joel waiting impatiently through the window. You open the door and squint at Joel, the daylight too bright for your eyes, “What do you want, Joel?”

“Need to use your TV,” he demands, stepping inside your home and placing a hand on your hip to move you aside, “Move.” 

“Why?”, you resist.

Joel motions toward his box with an annoyed expression on his face and your eyes light up. “Oh yeah,” you say, leading Joel to your living room where he sits in front of your old and boxy television, flipping up panels and tinkering with buttons before plugging in cords, “Can I play too? Will you show me how?”

“If you listen to me, maybe,” Joel mumbles as he’s setting up the console before turning to you, “Are you gonna be good and listen to me?”

“Of course not,” you smirk.

“Figures.”

You didn’t listen yesterday, either. You never do. 

-

Something had caught your eye and you went ahead of Joel, something he absolutely hates. He tells you your place is next to him or behind him. He leads. You follow.

“Would you quit fuckin’ wanderin’, Inglewood?”, Joel hissed at you in the second level of the mall, “I give ya an inch, ya take a mile.”

You rolled your eyes, “Why do you call me that?”

“Cause you’re always up to no good.” 

“I don’t understand that reference.”

“I know you don’t,” Joel sighed.

An odd clicking noise startled you both. It wasn’t quite that signature sound of a clicker, but it was enough to set you both off. You turned to Joel with wide eyes, and he reflexively pulled you close, one hand over your mouth and his other arm wrapped around your waist. Behind me, he mouthed. 

You nodded and took your place behind Joel, heart pounding in your chest. He walked forward slowly before stopping, pulling out his gun and his flashlight. In front of him was a dark silhouetted figure, something he couldn’t quite make out. It stood in front of a store with a broken sign, white and red glass lettering shattered. As he tiptoed closer with you following close behind, his eyes began to piece more things together. The figure was unmoving, and upon closer inspection it looked to be wearing almost…tactical gear? Was it FEDRA? He wondered what the clicking noise was. Probably just the mall deteriorating. If there were infected in the mall, they would have shown themselves by this point.

The figure stayed still, unmoving. Finally, Joel saw it. On the figure’s chest read, ‘Call of Duty: Out October 29, 2003’. Joel let out a breath of relief and put his gun down, “False alarm,” he said. “Wait.”

“What is it, Joel?”, you asked as he took quick steps toward the unmarked store. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice, “Get your ass over here. Follow me. First good thing in this godforsaken mall. Do you know what this is?”

“You know I don’t know what this is.”

Joel explained that it was a GameStop. They used to sell video games and stuff, had all sorts of fun things. He looked like a kid in a candy shop, stealing consoles and cartridges and gushing about how much he loved these games long ago. 

When you and Joel had returned from the mall, he practically sprinted into Ellie’s room, setting up their shared TV with a PlayStation and introducing her to some games. Ellie was ecstatic, and Joel knew she and the TV would be inseparable. 

-

Which leads him here, to your house, in front of your TV. 

“So I take it Ellie’s excited about the games and stuff you got her?”, you ask amused.

Joel fumbles with a controller to a Nintendo Entertainment System. “Big time,” he says. “They’re attached at the hip. So I’m commandeering your TV for today.”

“You could’ve asked, you know,” you tease, “I would’ve given it to you, asshole.”

“Don’t need you to give me nothin’. Just here to use your TV for a bit,” as he draws the curtains in your room, turns on your TV and adjusts the input, then sits back on your couch, legs outstretched on your coffee table, “It’s more fun when I take it from ya, anyway.”

You wonder if Joel gets physically ill at the thought of being polite, being kind to you. Nothing’s ever easy with him. He’s always ready to argue, ready to instigate. You roll your eyes, then leave Joel to take a shower and get dressed. You’re not sure what you were planning on doing on this Saturday, but video games with Joel seems to be your fate. 

By the time you have showered, Joel has already been playing for nearly 2 hours. You dress yourself in some comfy sweatpants and a hoodie, expecting to hunker down in front of the TV with Joel all day. You can hear the soft music from the video game from your room and Joel’s strings of expletives, or his cheers, depending on what’s happening in the game. You make a couple of sandwiches, some sliced apples, and pour a couple of glasses of water before you greet Joel in the living room. Standing in front of the TV, you watch as Joel tries to continue playing. There’s a little guy wearing a red hat, jumping over blocks and stomping on mushrooms. He makes a cute little ‘boing’ noise when he jumps, and the music playing in the background is playful, melodic. 

“Sweetheart, y’make a better door than a window. Get out of the way,” he gruffs. Joel’s got some fucking nerve today. He could have just kindly asked you to move. Tauntingly, you wiggle your ass in front of him, so he reaches over the coffee table and smacks it, “What’d I say about listening? Do you wanna play the game or not?” With Joel’s eyes still transfixed on the TV in front of you, you sit down next to him and place your two plates on the coffee table. “Everyday it’s somethin’ with you. Always tryin’ to get under my skin, always-”, Joel’s voice trails off as he glances at his plate, “Did you make me a sandwich?” 

You shrug, “You’re extra cranky today. Figured you could use a snack.”

“I’m not cranky,” Joel argues, “And I don’t need you makin’ me any snacks. Can make my own food.”

“Okay,” you say, eating your own food, “You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to. I’m not gonna shove it down your throat.”

Joel stays focused on his game until he hears the crunch of you biting into a slice of apple. “Wait, are those apple slices?”, he asks in a low tone. 

“Mhm.”

“You didn’t happen to cut any up for me, did you?”

“I did. Sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on top,” you smile proudly.

You watch Joel grumble to himself and play the game silently until he beats the level he’s on, then he pauses the game and sets his controller down. He picks up his plate of food and eats a couple of apple slices before inspecting his sandwich, “Did you poison this?”

“No, not the sandwich. The apples, yes. Don’t you taste the rat poison?” 

Joel rolls his eyes and takes a bite of his sandwich, “Gonna have to try harder than that, sweetheart. Up the dose next time. Tasty sandwich, though.”

“Noted,” you smile. Joel smiles too, almost imperceptibly, but you see it, the sparkle in his eyes and the way his face lit up when you told him you sliced up some apples for him too. 

“Tell me about your game.”

Joel raises an eyebrow, “It’s Mario. You don’t know Mario?”, and you shake your head no. “Jesus…you age me,” Joel takes another bite of his sandwich before continuing, “Mario’s a video game. Super Mario Brothers. He has a brother, Luigi. They’re plumbers and they fight Bowser to save Princess Peach. So that’s what I’m doin’ here,” Joel motions to the TV, “Savin’ Peach. Eventually.”

“Is it hard?”, you ask. 

“Kinda. Haven’t played in forever. But Tommy and I’d play all the time. Were always fightin’ over the damn Nintendo,” Joel chuckles, “Drove Mom fuckin’ nuts.”

“Maybe we should invite him over then,” you muse. 

“Nah,” Joel says, “Just me and you today.”

You smile, “Just us?” 

Joel nods, finishing the last of his sandwich and his apple slices, “Unfortunately.” He stretches his legs and his arms out long, then rubs his soft belly with a groan. “You’re trouble,” he tells you, “Tryna’ make me fat. I’m gonna go home and change into something cozier - jeans are fuckin’ tight.” 

“Bet I could make them tighter,” you bite your lip and nudge his thigh. 

“That’s a nice offer. You’re a charmer, Inglewood. Maybe later.” You huff as Joel picks up both of your plates and walks them to your kitchen sink, scrubbing and drying each one before pulling on his jacket. He walks back over to where you sit on the couch and points to the TV and his Nintendo, “Do not touch this,” he says, “It doesn’t have a memory card. So if you fuck with it, my progress is gone. Don’t unplug nothin’, don’t touch the TV, don’t–”.

“What if I–”.

Joel doesn’t let you get another word out, “Nope. Don’t do that either. Just leave it be, sit pretty and behave yourself. I’ll be back soon.”

You scoff and cross your arms as Joel leaves while staring at the paused screen of Joel’s game, then flicker your eyes lower to the controller Joel left on the coffee table. He didn’t say anything about playing the game. What’s the worst that could happen?

You reach for the controller and begin messing with the buttons, playing with the D-pad until the screen changes and you press ‘Start Game’.

The game starts. It catches you off guard. You fumble with the buttons until you figure out how to make Mario move, how to make him jump. A couple times you hit an angry looking mushroom and he dies. You snicker to yourself. Figures. Before you know it, you’ve passed Level 1-1 and you’re onto Level 1-2.

Level 1-2 comes and goes, and then Joel’s back at your door. You pause the game as he lets himself in. You wear a mischievous smile when you see him in his gray sweats and a t-shirt – your weakness. You can see the outline of his dick in those pants, and it sends a pang of arousal to your core. “Well don’t you look handsome,” you purr. 

“Pipe down, horndog,” Joel sits down on the couch next to you. Before he can reach for the controller, you slide your hand over one of his thick thighs and palm his bulge, then slip your hand under the waistband of his pants and play with his cock. He sighs as you stroke him, his sweet sounds getting you all hot and bothered. His cock is thick and warm, half hard and growing harder, but he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away. “Later,” he reminds you, “C’mon. I know you can wait. I don’t have much of the game left to play.”

“Okay,” you mumble. You scoot closer to Joel as he picks up the controller, wrapping your arm around his and resting your head on his bicep. You squeeze your thighs together tightly, trying to relieve some of the pressure at your core. He tries to shake you off of him, but you don’t budge. “I’m cold, Joel,” you protest.

“So get a blanket. I ain’t your heater,” he complains, but you feel him relax with your touch, snuggling up to you a little closer like maybe he’s cold too, “God, you make me nuts.”

You say nothing as Joel reaches for the controller, presses a couple buttons before the game starts again. He starts playing, then squints and furrows his brows. “Woah, woah, woah,” he says, “This ain’t right. What - why - what happened? Did you touch this? Tell me you didn’t touch this.”

“I didn’t touch it,” you lie. 

Joel turns to you and glares, “What. Did. You. Do.”

“I tried out your game,” Joel continues glaring at you and you raise your arms in surrender, “What?”

Joel cups your cheeks in both of his big hands and shakes your head gently, “Why would you do that?” 

“You told me not to unplug anything. I didn’t unplug anything.”

“I also told you not to touch anything,” Joel groans, “Do you know how long it took me to beat those levels?”

“Just pick up where you left off, Joel.”

“I told ya, it doesn't work like that. No memory card, no progress. I have to start over now,” Joel whines, “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

“Beats me,” you say, “But–”, you take one of Joel’s hands from his controller and suck his fingers before slipping it under the waistband of your sweatpants, “Now we can get down to brass tacks. Hmm?”

“One rule,” Joel hisses as cups your mound, “I gave you one fuckin’ rule.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But now that you’re not playing Mario anymore, you can make me come. And then I’ll make you come. And you’ll forget you were ever mad at me.”

Joel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before turning to you, his eyes now mischievously lit up. “You’re right,” he says, “I’m not playing Mario anymore. You are.” He places the controller in your hands, “I told you I wanted to beat the game, and mayb then I’d fuck ya. So now you’re gonna get me back to where I was so I’ll finish up the game, and maybe, maybe after that, I’ll fuck you. Cause I’m not doin’ all of this again. I’ve got other games I wanna play too.”

“Piece of cake,” you reply confidently. Though really, playing Mario is harder than it looks.

“Oh, really? Is it that easy?”, Joel says, raising his eyebrows in amusement at your confidence as you nod, “If ya say so. I thought you said it’s harder than it looks. Whatever. Go on, then.” Situating yourself next to Joel, you adjust your grip on the controller. Joel’s hand is still beneath your pants, fingers resting against your lips. You look at him, wondering if he’ll pull his hand away. “You put it there,” he says. “It’s stayin’.”

Whatever. You start the game feeling confident in yourself, and then Mario hits a mushroom and he shrinks. And then he hits another mushroom, and he dies. Joel hums in amusement and you shove your elbow into his side. “I didn’t say anything,” he smirks.

It takes you about ten minutes to get the hang of it, but eventually you do. When you start a new level, Joel presses two of his fingers against your pussy and it startles you. Mario hits a turtle and he shrinks again. “Joel,” you gasp, “What are you doing?”

Dragging his fingers up and down your folds at a leisurely pace, Joel shrugs, “Nothin’.” He’s definitely not doing “nothing”. It’s getting harder to focus now, and you’re making mistakes, getting hit by enemies, missing those little mushroom power ups that come at you every so often. You huff in frustration, and Joel chuckles to himself, “You suck, sweetheart.”

“Shut up, Joel.”

He presses the tip of his middle finger against your entrance, pushes inside before pulling his finger back out and dragging it up to your clit, smirking when your breath hitches in your throat, “Do you need some help? Pointers, maybe?”

“No,” you grit, “Shut up, Joel.”

“Hmm, alright,” he hums, his thick fingers now circling your sensitive bud. You can feel his intense gaze on you as you play the game, squashing Mario’s enemies to the best of your ability, but you were right the first time, it’s harder than it looks. Joel turns his attention back to the TV, “Hit that box with the question mark.” You raise your eyebrow in suspicion. It’s probably a trap. With Joel, it’s always a trap. “Watch what happens,” he instructs, so you hit the box and a flower emerges. Joel tells you to jump on it, so you do. Warily, though. Mario changes outfits. “There you go. Now if you press B,” he taps the other button on the controller, “You can shoot those guys with a fireball. Try it out.” 

Mario does in fact shoot fireballs at the enemies. This advantage makes the game come along smoother, so Joel ups the ante, drawing tight circles into your clit. “Joel,” you moan, “Quit it. You’re distracting me.”

“Thought you wanted me to make you come,” Joel taunts.

“I do, but not like thi–fuck–Joel, stop.”

“Tough luck,” Joel responds, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

You do your best to ignore the sensation of Joel touching you, but it’s hard. He knows exactly where to touch you, how to touch you to make you squirm and moan for him. You have to fight yourself to keep your eyes from rolling back when Joel pushes two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out for a moment before abruptly curling them upward, hitting that sweet spot he knows and loves. “Jesus, Joel,” you moan, accidentally pressing the lower end of the D-pad. On the TV, Mario slides down a pipe and is brought to a new area. He’s able to run across the top of the screen, then finds an area with a bunch of pipes called the Warp Zone. This changes the game. You’re able to skip levels, making this whole thing go by even quicker. You’ll be on your way to fuck town in no time.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna figure that out,” Joel rubs his thumb over your clit as he fucks you with his two middle and ring fingers. You’re able to find a couple more pipes that allow you to go to Warp Zones, which doesn’t require quite as much focus on the screen. You allow yourself to savor the way Joel touches you, that warmth building up in the pit of your stomach. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you moan. That familiar edge begins to creep up just as you’re finishing another level. Your breathing quickens, your pussy dripping and gushing with every movement of Joel’s thick fingers. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t–”.

“Thanks sweetheart. That was a big help,” Joel yanks the controller from you with his free hand, then pulls the other away from your core. Now that you’ve gotten him to where he left off in the game, he focuses all of his attention on the TV, as if he was never touching you. 

“Are you serious?”, you’re in disbelief but Joel doesn’t answer, “Joel, I was about to–”.

“I know.”

You scoff, “Fuck you, man.”

“Yeah, I know you wanna. But I told you, you gotta wait til I’m done. You’re very forgetful, you know that?”

Frustrated, you shove your hand under your sweats and pick up where Joel left off. He clears his throat, “You can play with your pussy, or I can. Pick one but we’re not doin’ both. It’s up to you.” 

Jesus fucking Christ. This is bullshit. Joel can take control of your TV, but not your pleasure. You watch him in astonishment, how he pays you no mind as he plays the game. His eyes are glazed over and his lips slightly parted, deep in focus. It’s like you’re not even there. You lower your eyes from his face to his lap where his fingers move deftly, still slick and shiny with your juices. His thumbs dart back and forth over the D-pad and the buttons, and you wish he was still touching you like that. Expertly, with dedication and precision.  And then it catches your eye – the tent in his sweatpants, that little spot of dampness where his head rests against the fabric. He’s fucking rock hard from playing with you, leaking precome. You’re impressed with Joel’s ability to ignore his own arousal. Good for him. You, however, won’t ignore it. 

In a swift maneuver, too quick for Joel to even process, you pull down his sweats and let his cock spring free, setting the waistband under his heavy balls. You don’t even think, you just do it – lifting up his arm, you dive under and grip the base of his cock. You guide his tip to your mouth, swirling your tongue around his swollen head before letting it part your lips. Joel groans, “Think you can play dirty too, huh?”

“Mhm,” you mumble against him. 

“Knock yourself out,” he tells you, “You’re forgettin’ I have something you don’t – self control, my darlin’.”

You don’t care. This is more for you than it is for him, anyway. You haven’t gotten to taste him yet and it’s been on your mind. He tastes heady, salty, and slightly sweaty on your tongue. He’s warm and thick, you like the way his cock feels in your mouth. His smooth skin, how he squirms when you slide his cock to the back of your throat. 

Joel groans as you work his shaft, one hand gripping his base, the other fondling his balls. You hum against him, sending vibrations down his shaft. He rests the sides of his hands on your head as he plays with the controller, pushing you further down on his cock. “Last level,” he tells you. You suck him mindlessly as he plays, listening to Joel hissing expletives. You smirk with him in your mouth knowing which of his curses are directed at you and which are directed at the TV. 

Joel’s cock stiffens and twitches, he’s getting closer. You know it and so does he. “You know,” he says in a soft, warning tone, “If ya make me come, you’re shit outta luck. Can’t fuck you.”

Oh, shit. You weren’t even thinking about that. You pull your mouth off of him instantaneously, smacking your head against his controller and sending it flying out of his hands. “Fuck,” Joel barks. 

The controller lands upside down on the corner of your coffee table, the buttons hitting the edge just so, and Joel watches in horror as Mario disappears from the TV and is replaced by the main menu. 

You rub your head where you hit it on the controller, but Joel is no longer staring at the TV in disbelief. Instead, he’s looking at you. “Shit. I’m sorry, Joel,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m really sorry.”

You expect Joel to be angry like usual, but he instead pulls your hand away from your scalp, lowers you so he can check the area you hit and give it a kiss, then lifts your chin back up while rubbing your bump. “It was an accident,” he speaks soothingly, “Mario can wait. Are you hurting?”

“Not terribly,” you tell him. And it’s the truth. 

“No? You sure?” You shake your head no and Joel nods. He rubs your head for a little bit longer, his big brown eyes are soft and sweet and worrisome. The kindest he’s ever looked at you, kindest he’s ever been to you. And all you had to do was smack your head on his video game. He holds your chin with his thumb and forefinger, then pulls you close and whispers quietly, “Would you still like me to fuck you? We don’t have to if you’re not up for it anymore.” 

You grin and nod your head, “Yes, please. I want it.”

“Get your ass over here, then,” Joel says as he lifts your hips and pulls your pants off, then pulls his own further down his thighs. He guides you to straddle his lap, holding his cock loosely between his middle and index fingers and his thumb. He drags his tip through your folds, then notches himself at your entrance before pulling your hips down, burying himself in you all the way to the hilt. 

You grip his shoulders and press your forehead to his own, sighing softly as you get adjusted to his girth. “I missed your cock,” you breathe, “Missed it so much.”

“I know you did, sweetheart. I missed you too.”

When you’ve adjusted, you begin to roll your hips, rubbing your clit against that soft patch of hair at the base of his cock, moaning and grunting softly, “Oh, Joel. Feels good.”

“I know it does,” he sighs as he leans forward to lift up your shirt and pulls it off of your body, then takes off his own, “That’s better.” He runs his thumbs over the soft curve of your tummy, then slides his hands up your rib cage before cupping your breasts, twisting and rolling your nipples. 

The way he looks at you makes your cheeks feel hot. You lean forward to hide your face, grinding your hips into him. He holds you close to his body with his hands wrapping around your back before gripping your ass and bouncing you up and down on him, stretching and parting your insides. You allow yourself to rest against him, letting him do the work and take care of you. His cock feels incredible. So thick, so hard, hitting against all of your favorite spots. “So good, takin’ me so good, sweetheart,” he praises, “Ya always do.”

Joel squeezes your ass tighter. He can see your reflection in the TV, loving the way your body moves, how you tremble, how you rock your hips, how you whimper his name. It’s all for him. “Wanna, fuck,” he sighs, snaking his hand between your bodies as he finds your clit with his fingertips, rubbing circles around it, “Wanna make you come on my cock. Make those pretty noises for me.”

With Joel’s cock hitting you right where you need him, his fingers playing with your clit, it’s not long before your orgasm approaches. “Right there, Joel. Like that, just like that,” you moan breathlessly, “I’m gonna come for you.”

“Yeah, gimme a good one,” he says. He fucks you expertly, each of his thrusts deep and intentional. It’s all for you. He just wants to watch you come, hear you moan his name, feel you soak his cock. Your breaths quicken and your moans quiet as you near your climax, and you come with loud cries and moans. Joel pulls you close, fucking you through it as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. “Fuck,” he hisses rocking his hips into you once, twice, three more times before he comes with a groan, painting your insides with rope after rope of his hot seed. 

You fall forward, resting your face against the couch as you both catch your breath. He rests his head next to you, looking deep into your eyes before flicking his gaze to your lips, then back up to your eyes. You stare at his lips too.

“Your head still okay?” he asks, “Smacked it real good.”

“Think so.”

“Gonna keep an eye on it anyway,” Joel whispers, “What am I gonna do with you, Inglewood, hmm?”, bringing his hand to your face and rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. You’re still staring at his lips. His pink, pouting lips that have never kissed your own.

“I’m not sure,” you murmur, “What do you think?”

Joel runs his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling it down before letting go, “Haven’t got a clue.”

Joel leaves you to grab a warm wash rag and clean you up, then helps you back into your clothes. He reaches for the controller and starts up Super Mario Brothers one more time, and you snuggle his bicep like before. This time, he doesn’t try to move you. 

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[sameschmidtdiffname]

Princess

Mike Schmidt x Female! Reader

Summary: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.

Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.

Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.

He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.

My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.

"Michael," I say.

Silence.

"Mike."

Nothing.

I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.

"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.

"I don't sleep well," he says.

"Neither does the baby," I say.

Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.

"Michael-"

"Don't call me that," he interrupts.

It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.

Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."

"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.

"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.

"Which one?"

"Both."

We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine."

With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.

Year long lease. Joy.

-Tuesday-

"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.

"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.

"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.

"So am I, I'm sorry!"

There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.

"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.

"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.

His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.

"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"

He stammers. "I-I have."

"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."

As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."

I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.

"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.

Oh, motherfucker. It is on.

-Wednesday-

It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.

"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."

"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.

"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.

"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."

"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.

"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.

"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.

A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.

"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.

"Not my mess," he says.

"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.

"Don't slam my door!" I say.

"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.

"Problems?" I ask.

"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.

"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.

"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.

"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.

"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.

Fuck.

"I don't fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.

"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.

"Is not!"

"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.

"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.

"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."

My jaw drops in shock.

"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.

Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.

"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.

I blink. "What?"

"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."

Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?

His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.

"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.

"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.

Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.

-Thursday-

"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.

"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.

The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.

The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.

"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."

Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.

Should be.

Wasn't.

The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.

"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.

Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.

"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.

"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.

-

I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.

"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.

"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."

More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.

"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.

"Nick," I say.

"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.

"Canadian," I say.

Mike nods. Sip. Silence.

"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.

"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'

Mike looks at his drink in thought.

"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.

"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."

"Just bored?" Mike asks.

"Just bored," I confirm.

Sip. Silence. Thinking.

"You... do that regularly?" He asks.

"I mean... I like sex," I say.

His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.

"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Another sip. He finishes his glass.

"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.

"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.

Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.

"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.

There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.

"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.

"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."

This comment stings. Deeply.

"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.

"Oh?" Mike asks.

"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.

"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."

"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.

"Says who?" He asks.

"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."

"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.

I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.

Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.

"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.

"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.

Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.

...

...how easy is Mike to swallow?

-Friday-

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.

Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.

"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?

Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.

"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.

Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.

"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"

I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.

"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.

"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.

All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.

The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.

Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?

But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.

"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.

"Oh?" Both of them ask me.

"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.

The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.

"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.

"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.

"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.

My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.

"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.

Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.

"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.

"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.

Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.

I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"

I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.

His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.

"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"

He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.

"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.

"Make me," I taunt.

He blinks.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.

"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.

"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.

Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.

"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"

It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.

"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.

"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."

I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.

His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.

"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."

I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.

His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.

"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.

"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.

"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.

"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.

"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.

This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.

"What?" I ask, my voice raw.

"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.

"Say what?" I ask.

"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.

"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.

"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."

I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?

It's not fair.

"I'm yours," I say quietly.

"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.

"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.

"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.

"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.

"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.

"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."

"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.

He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.

"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.

I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.

"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."

He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.

"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"

"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.

"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.

A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.

His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.

"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.

"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.

"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.

"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.

"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.

"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?

"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."

"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.

"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."

"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.

"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."

"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"

His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.

"So you want me, do you, princess?"

I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.

His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.

He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.

"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."

"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.

"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.

His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.

"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."

I lick my lips and nod lightly.

"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.

"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."

Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.

"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.

"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.

"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.

A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.

"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?

...Fuck me, I have problems.

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Thanks for reading, pookies. See y'all in hell.

Masterlist

[anangelinthepit]

Without you…

Part 2

Warning ⚠️ - None-Enjoy 🩵

************************************************

6 months later

Noah’s POV

“Folio any updates?” I asked taking a drag off my cigarette and a sip of my whiskey.

“Not since last week Noah. She’s still in Los Angeles but trying to locate her exact position is becoming more difficult. She’s constantly on the move.”

I glided my hand through my hair trying to relax. The longer she tried to hide and stay away, the more it pissed me off. What the hell was she thinking? Running off like this knowing good and goddman well that any of my rivals would snatch her up in a fucking second.

“I hate to say it boss but I told you so. She was acting funny for weeks on end. God only knows what she spills if one of the rivals figures out she is in public without her pit bulls.” Jolly said sipping his beer

“Jolly now is not a good fucking time. We need to focus on bringing her back to this house, and you stating the obvious is not helping.”

“How do you figure we do that? She hasn't used any of her credit cards and we have every member combing through the city. Still coming up empty-handed, and having to start at square one again.” Folio said

“Trust me she’ll slip up. Do you know why Y/N is so beautiful? Because God had to make up for how stupid she can be sometimes.” I said smirking

“Little harsh, don't ya think?” Jolly said

I was about to disagree when Folio's computer started to make a repeating Ping noise.

“Hey it may be harsh but it's the fucking truth. My tracker on North 15th Street picked up her last location.”

Jolly got up first and checked out Folio's work to make sure it was accurate. I don't need any false alarms right now and he fucking knows that.

“Uh Boss, you're gonna wanna see this picture.”

I put out my cigarette and ran over to the computer. When I looked at the screen I nearly dropped to my knees. A cold sweat began to drip down the back of my neck while my stomach turned upside down.

“Y/N..”

There in the photo stood my beautiful wife, the sun shining down on her illuminating her features and that smile that would light up my darkest days. I could stare at her all day but my attention was brought to something more important.

Her stomach…

“Oh my god, she's fucking pregnant,” I said backing up. I could feel the anger start to boil the hood that ran through my veins. How could she leave knowing she was in such a fragile condition? What the fuck was she thinking? I couldn't contain the fire inside me any longer. Before I knew it my first in the fuckin wall and the only thing I could see is black.

“Folio. where is she?” I said taking some deep breaths trying to calm myself.

“The last place she was, was some corner store. She can't live far boss, we scope out the area and we’re bound to find where she is staying.”

“Noah, I don't mean to be the voice of reason here but maybe she left because she was pregnant.” Nick chimed in.

“What are you talking about? I would have protected her and the baby, all she had to do was fucking tell me, Nick.”

“I understand that but please try to hear her out before you go smashing more walls. She's probably scared Noah, this life wasn't always easy on her.”

I wanted to scoff at what Nick said but he was right, maybe I never took the actual chance to hear her feelings on certain situations. I was too caught up with the money and glory to understand how selfish I was being.

“You’re right Nick, I'll try to to hear her out. I'm gonna need you there though just in case. Please.”

Nick nodded and asked when we were leaving.

“Tonight, I doubt she's working so she should be home,” I said taking a shot of whiskey.

“Hold the fuck up, if Jolly or I had said that to you, we would have two weaning shots in the back of our heads.” Folio protested

“Agreed,” Jolly said sticking his finger up

“Do I need to bring up what happened down in Texas and why both you and Jolly are now on computer work?” I said raising my eyebrow

“No sir carry on.”

“Agreed”

“Dumbasses.”

Nick and I left, LA was only a few hours so it gave me a lot of time to think about how I was going to approach this situation. Was I gonna scream at her and cuss the fuck out? Or hold her and thank god for once in my life that my wife and now child are safe. I won't know until I'm right in front of her. Even though I'm confused with my feelings right now, I can tell you one thing I know for sure that is….

I will not go home empty-handed

Y/N ‘s POV

“Aye Newbie! Pick up the pace! We got people who want drinks.”

“Ricardo I'm 6 months pregnant cut me some fucking slack would ya ?”

Damn, I hate working at this fuckjng place. The men are disgusting and the drinks are even worse.

“What are ya having?”

“A shot of whiskey and a shot of you to go with it.”

I rolled my eyes and gave the man his whiskey. Even with a baby bump, men still find ways to talk like fucking pigs. I finished up my shift at the bar at around 11:30 P.m. I couldn't wait to get home and hang out with Sapphire, she has become my best friend. If it wasn't for her my ass would have been on the street. Tonight she had something she needed to talk to me about. As I re-read over our text messages I couldn't help but feel this was something serious.

Sapphire

Hey um, what time are you coming home 2night?

Me:

Ricardo is making me stay till 11:30 so a lil l8er than usual. Y is everything ok?

Sapphire

Um ya just please come str8 home after.

Me:

Ok?

I would be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous about what was going on. We didn't live in the best part of town but not the worst. We knew everyone around us so I was starting to become worried. I was getting ready to get in my car when I froze. Looking down at the door handle to my 1998 Pontiac, I saw someone and tied a red ribbon to my door handle. It was”t just any shade of red but a Ruby red ribbon.

“There's no fucking away.”

I yanked the ribbons off and scoped out the rest of my car. It was close to Valentine's Day so maybe this was one of my regular stupid jokes of trying to be festive.

“Yeah, that's gotta be right.”

I threw the ribbons on the ground and got in my car. I tried calling Sapphire and it went straight to voicemail. Sapphire is so bad with charging her phone that this didn't strike me as odd. I finally made my way back to the apartment, but the entire ride home was so nerve-racking. I could have sworn I was being followed but it was probably just my paranoia. I needed to calm down, all this stress wasn't good for the baby.

“SAPPHIRE IM HOME! Girl, you wouldn't believe the day I had! Everything was normal until I got out of work. Can you believe some weirdo tied a ribbon to my car? I'll tell ya what, I bet you it was Jerry. You know the one with 8 kids and his wife is almost pushing 50. God, it's like he can't take a hint.”

I began to pour myself a glass of water when I realized there was just absolute silent. So quiet, I could hear my heart beating in my ears

“Saph?”

“Just a Ribbion huh? That breaks my heart babydoll, You used to always love small gifts like that.

I dropped my water causing glass to shatter all over the floor. There in the doorway stood Noah, and by the look on his face, he wanted answers and wanted them now.

“Noah?”

“My Ruby”

I stumbled back almost stroking on the broken glass around my feet. I should have fucking known the ribbon on my car wasn't from a strange secret admirer. Just my psychopath, murderous, soon-to-be ex-husband.

“I’ve missed you,” he said walking towards me

“Wh- where is my friend.”

“Oh, Sapphire? Nice girl but I had to have Nick take care of her.”

I was two seconds away from screaming thinking he killed my best friend until I heard giggling and moaning coming from the other room.

“Seriously?”

Noah continued to walk towards me, I couldn't back up anymore because I was already against the sink. I closed my eyes expecting the worst when I felt a hand cradle my stomach. When I opened my eyes, Noah was kneeling and holding me. This was probably the most gentle touch I've ever seen this man do to me or anyone else. Noah has never hit me, let me make that clear. It's just his kisses and affection were as soft as a diamond. Cold kisses and sharp to the touch. As much as I wanted to be in awe of this moment, I couldn’t.

“Noah”

His grip around me became tighter

“Noah please”

Noah stood up after kissing my baby bump. Quicky wiping a tear from his eye he fixed himself and changed back to his intimidating demeanor. Just like the old saying goes “Mafia men don't shed tears”

“You have a got a lot of explaining to do, first things first. Pack your shit and let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Excuse me? You are still my wife and now the mother of my child. What I say fucking goes.”

I watched those beautiful brown autumn-colored eyes of his turn into dark orbs, I was scared but I’m standing my fucking ground

“Not anymore.”

Suddenly Noah threw a punch that landed on the cabinet door just inches away from my face.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I could feel my legs about to give out and cave into him. That is until the flashback happened within a second, and the reason I did this gave me the strength.

“It means my son is not your concern, and neither am I.”

************************************************

Hello angels i hope you all enjoyed 🩵

Taglist

@amelia-acero @reyadawn @bloodylullaby @fadingintothegrey @aubrey-melinoe @lolitasangel @lma1986 @chey-h @supersquirrel1996 @iluvmewwwww75 @dreamstyles @hurricanesfollowyou @thisbicc @ashdreamsalone

[brunettegirlwrites]

LA DI DIE!

pairing: reader x ghostface!rafe, serial killer!rafe

warnings: violence, stalking

summary: after a strict curfew is implemented to the island, you receive a shocking phone call.

author’s note: let me know if u guys want a part two :)

a strict curfew in the outer banks meant absolutely nothing to the privileged residents of figure 8. a few of your classmates were brutally murdered throughout the span of a month and there was an island wide panic about finding the masked civilian who was behind these tragedies. despite all of this, there was still a party going on right next door from your house.

it was the biggest party of the summer. anybody who was anybody was going to be there tonight. you were so excited to finally free the stress of schoolwork and let loose for the night. you had the perfect outfit planned and were looking forward to the get ready portion while you pregamed. your parents were at a charity banquet, as most of the parents on figure 8 were.

it was the perfect coverup.

your excitement got the best of you and you ended up passing out around 10 o’clock, not even finishing your full face of makeup. you woke up to the sound of the security alarm being disarmed. you sat up quickly, rubbing at your eyes and immediately regretting it as you felt your false eyelashes begin to peel off. you ripped them both off slowly, tossing them onto your comforter somewhere and making your way out of the room.

“thank god you guys are home,” you called out to your parents into the hallway. “i’m starving. let’s order pizza.” as you made your way down the steps, you noticed the lights weren’t on. that was weird. you could’ve sworn you left them on when you came home from school. you flicked the light switch closest to the staircase you were standing on. by no surprised are we surprised—the light wasn’t turning on.

“pops? are you home?” you asked, making your way down the steps slowing. the only answer you received was the sound of the creaky final step echoing across the room. “mom?” your voice wavered as the fear trembled through your body.

as more silence surrounded you, you wandered around the lower level of your home. you were just turning into the kitchen when your phone’s ringtone blared, scaring you half to death. SARAH CAMERON flashed across the screen. “what the fuck?” you gasp. sarah cameron was one of the murdered teens.

when you didn’t answer the first time, sarah called you again. you picked up on the second ring, slowly holding the phone up to your ear. “sarah?” you whispered.

“you wish this was sarah.”

it was not sarah cameron. that was not her voice. oh my gosh! that voice. it was deep, almost static-like, as if someone were speaking through a voice recording.

“who is this?” you asked.

“that’s not the question you should be asking me, sweetheart,” the stranger teased.

“how the hell do you have sarah cameron’s phone? who is this!?” you walked over to the window above the kitchen sink. you could see the led lights changing colors from the living room window next door. you pulled the curtains shut. “whoever this is, you’re seriously fucked.”

“not as fucked as you’re going to be when I cut open your insides and watch them sliver onto the ground.”

your face scrunches up in disgust. “you’re sick!”

“so they say,” they lightly laugh as you pull open the drawers and find that all of the knives have been removed. you heart drops. “not gonna have much luck there, kid.”

but this time, the voice wasn’t coming from the phone. it was coming from right behind you. you dropped your phone down on the counter, instantly turning around and coming face to face with the local masked killer. you scream and made a break for the opposing entryway as the one they stood in front of. they chased after you, hands dangerously close to grabbing the fabric of your dress and yanking you backwards.

you didn’t realize you were crying until you got to your front door. you pulled on the door knob and with no luck, it didn’t open. you remembered that you needed to punch in the security code first. before you could make your way to the system, your hair was grabbed. you let out another scream as your body was thrown to the ground. the masked figure stood above you, head tilted as they watched you.

you looked so beautiful with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“please,” you begged. “please don’t do this!”

they got down to your level, one knee pressed in between your legs to keep them apart. “please!” you sobbed. they held a shiny silver blade in one hand while the other began to slide up your top to reveal your belly button. another loud cry escaped you. they really are going to cut up my insides. you thought.

they held the blade over your head as the final scream left your throat. but before they could push it down to strike you, you reached up and tugged on the gold chain that hung from their chest. “rafe!” you whined. “you need to be more careful.”

rafe cameron ripped off his mask as quickly as you broke character. he was breathing heavily, no doubt filled with the adrenaline that he craves. “babe, why’d you stop?” he breathed out.

“because I can see your necklace, dummy,” you reach up and tuck it underneath the all black t-shirt he had on. “

“oh,” he says dumbly. he makes a move to get off of you but you tug pull down by his shoulders.

“don’t go!” you almost yell. your face grows warm with sexual desire. your voice now soft and shy. “I like it.”

he presses his knee further into your core. he can feel how wet you are. he smirks and uses his blade to rip your shirt open, not even caring how expensive it is.

and so he fucked you. right on the floor, with your panties looped around your ankle. he was balls deep while you were on all fours, practically clawing into the floorboards beneath you.

“i’m gonna come,” you whimpered, squeezing around his length.

“give it to me baby,” rafe breathed out, squeezing on your oversensitive tits. “cum all over my dick, there you go. perfect, baby. always so perfect.”

[spirirsstuff]

camp half-blood tumblr dashboard simulator

🌊 seaweed-brain Follow

another day of makig sure the gods pay their child support ^^

14,239 notes

🐎 chironthecentaur Follow

I ran out of Adderall for the campers.

🐎 chironthecentaur Follow

I can not get my hands on any for the next few days. If I do not follow up, assume I am deceased.

122 notes

☠️ ghost-king-official Follow

everyone is gonna die and most of us will just forget nothing in life matters

☀️ allwillynilly Follow

:]

☠️ ghost-king-official Follow

one thing in life matters

4 notes

🦉 wise-girl Follow

Look at these designs I sketched up for Olympus! I'll start building as soon as I can <3

🌊 seaweed-brain Follow

babe ily but what the fuck is that

🦉 wise-girl Follow

Let me label it a little better

🌊 seaweed-brain Follow

that clears it up thaks

#architecture #design #sketch #plans #okay that should be enough tags to not have th readmore #she never looks past that #i cannot understnd a single word of this if someon does @ me

2,265 notes

🔥 vvvaldez-rulez Follow

WHO MOVED MY TOOLBELT

notthatjason-deactivated20180501

I DIDNT TOUCH IT. WHY DID YOU SIDE EYE ME IN THE TAGS

🕊️ piperpiperpiper Follow

I DIDNT TOUCH IT EITHER. WHY DID YOU SIDE EYE ME IN THE TAGS TOO

🔥 vvvaldez-rulez Follow

false alarm guys i put it on the second shelf instead of the first one

26 notes

🍷 thewineman Follow

Diet coke only sustains for so long. Wine is forever. Zeus is a pussy anhldfii ju bccs njsshsnSBMFF F IN CHNCC BBC F J

7,487 notes

⚡️daughterofzeus Follow

luke and i took in a runaway she’s so sweet and scared

luke-me-up-deactivated20090505

I know 🥺 She’s so young and ran away from her family but she’s got a new family now

2 notes

🐐 groover-underwood Follow

CYCLOPES KNOW HOW TO USE TUMBLR??????

#I know I know he’s nice but he still unnerves me I’m sorry

53 notes

🌊 seaweed-brain Follow

smh cant believe people drown just breathe

👁️ tysoncyclops Follow

Hello brother!

🌊 seaweed-brain Follow

hi tyson!

#oh shit out of all the posts why did he find this

70,171 notes

📜 oracle-of-delphi Follow

feeling silly might deliver the next great prophecy idk

📜 oracle-of-delphi Follow

Terrible things are going to happen.

497 notes

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 38

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You roll over, eyes opening as you groan. The dull ache in your back is heavy, worse than the usual. The pressure in your pelvis is so bad, you feel like you might just vomit. A ripple of agony tears through you as you pant, whimpering into the dark as you clutch your stomach.

"Fuck," you grunt as you dig your elbow into the mattress, "fuck, not now."

You shakily sit up after several tries. Your muscles tauten and your spine pangs. Lloyd isn't there. The bed is empty. Where the fuck is he?

You grip the bed frame and stand with all your strength. The slimy gush between your legs assures you of your worse fear. No fucking way. This has to be a nightmare. Where is Lloyd? You can't do this alone and fuck him for trying to make you.

It's too early. Your c-section isn't scheduled for another month. It's a false alarm. God, you feel like you're going to shit yourself.

You waddle to the door, breathless as you get there. A radiating burst of pain blooms in your back and you barely keep from falling onto your stomach. You collapse to your knees and growl.

"Fuck!" You utter the guttural word, puffing as you hold the doorframe, "LLOYD!" You holler, "where the fuck are you?"

You don't hear anything. You lean forward, pressing your hands to the hardwood. You lift yourself, crawling towards the stairs. You stop at the top and suck in air.

"LLOYD!!!" You boom down and it echoes onto the first floor.

You hear a clink and lazy footsteps. He could go a little faster. You snarl and heave, blowing out between your teeth as you try to temper the pain. Lloyd gets to the bottom of the stairs as you whine.

"What's going on, peaches? Ice cream--"

"Don't be a fucking moron," you sneer and ram a fist into the floor, "this goddamn demon is trying to claw its way out of my ass."

"Huh?" He sputters.

"Huh?!" You spit mockingly, "Lloyd, I think it's time."

"Now?"

"Yeah, fucking now-- could you stop asking stupid fucking questions and help me!"

Your back arches as you bellow through another contraction. Holy fucking shit. This is not how you expected to wake up. You never truly believed you wake up to anything worse than that mustachioed dimwit.

"Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, oh wow," he scrambles around and grabs his keys, searching for shoes in the closet as you bring yourself to sit on the top stair, gripping tight the railing as you shake. "Right now! Fuck! And I thought I was gonna surprise you," he turns and runs up the steps. God you hate him and his spritely fucking body. Look at him moving without a single goddamn obstacle. "Come on, baby cakes."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" You bark as he bends over you, guiding your arms around his neck as he helps you to your feet.

"Good luck," he snickers.

"Not fucking funny, dickweed. I'm serious," you curl your nails into his back, just along his shoulder blade until he cries out, "you did this to me and I'm gonna rip your taint open so you know how it fee--ARGGHHHHHHH!"

"Peaches," Lloyd grits out, barely restraining a warble in his voice, "I got you. You're a strong bitch, you can do this."

"I put up with you, I know I'm fucking strong," you raise your hand to his neck and pinch him meanly. "Get me to the fucking hospital! Now. There's no way I'm pushing this thing out. They need to cut me the fuck open--- MOTHERFUCKER!"

"I will be soon enough," Lloyd grins.

"Do you have a fucking death wish?" You retort as he helps you down the stairs one at a time. "Life for a life. You go, this fucking parasite comes out."

"Okay, let's just... get where we need to go," Lloyd hisses in pain as your nails dig into his neck, "please, peaches, take it easy."

"Take it easy?" You get to the first floor, "take it easy! I feel like I'm in that scene from Alien. EASY? You think this if fucking easy?!"

"Nope," he grunts as he turns and angles your towards the front door, "alright, we're almost there."

You moan and babble as you lean your head back, legs moving stiffly as he urges you on. You can't. It's too much. You're used to pain but this is too much.

Lloyd gets you to the car and opens the door. He turns you and slowly eases you done, "try not to get anything on the seat--"

"Shut the fuck up," you snap, "I can't fucking help it!"

"Just, put your legs together--"

"Shoulda done that a while ago," you shove him so he hits his head on the top of the car. He sighs and shuts the door before running around the hood of the car.

He gets in the driver's side and taps on the wheel. He makes small noises as if trying to decide what to do next. It's not hard, drive!

As the pressure swells in your pelvis, you clasp onto the door and measure your breaths. Finally, he starts the engine and backs out. You let the motion of the car reassure you, though it does little for the pain.

Your head lolls and silver moonlight streams through slits of your eyes. You're almost delirious with the shock and pain. Wake up, wake up, it's too soon! It can't be real. You're not ready. Not ready to be a mother. Please, just a little longer.

You hug your stomach, tears in your eyes, and drone. You turn your head and look at the man next to you. You know what comes next, you know how this goes.

You're no more than used goods. Once there's a squalling, shitting baby, he'll find even more reason to be gone. More often and for longer. You're going to be alone like you were before. Attached to a man who doesn't care about you at all.

You wheeze and throw your head back, the street lights streaming by. The dread sinks in your stomach. This little girl is going to hate you. You don't even know if you can love her. You're just going to have one more person in this world to disappoint.

The dialing of a phone interrupts your doom. The Bluetooth clicks and a groggy voice comes from the other end.

"Marion?" Dottie wonders quizzically through the speaker.

"Ma," Lloyd says, a tremor of panic breaking through as he reaches to squeeze your arm, "it's time--"

You sob and snort, trying to fight through. Your body doesn't feel like your own. You have no control over it, no control as your bones split and your muscles tear.

"Time?" Dottie chimes, "oh my-- sweetie," she coaxes, "breathe, just breathe, Marion, you breathe with her--" There's rustling against the microphone, "Harley, get up. We gotta go!"

"I got it ma," Lloyd says, "I can do it."

"Ain't you doin' all the work," Dottie retorts, "you keep your wife cozy, don't be thinking of yourself. Harlan, not that one, the other-- I gotta go, honey bear. We'll be there fast as we can."

The call ends and you gnash your teeth as another contraction rolls over you. You lean forward, coughing out a breath as you brace the dashboard. Lloyd keeps his hand on your shoulder as he drives.

"Almost there, peaches."

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

My reactions to the finale of Criminal Minds: Evolution season 2

I can't believe we're already at the end 😭

20 minutes of lost connection. I'm sure Penelope isn't panicking at ALL

Oh yeah that doesn't look good. That looks VERY not good.

And we start off with Dave! Alive (unsurprised) but injured/trapped (unsurprised) and talking to a hallucination of Voit (UNSURPRISED)

Tara's alive my QUEEEN!! And uninjured!

Tara trying not to cry about the fact that her gf, i mean, Emily is still MIA

And Emily and Frank Church are kidnapped. Lovely!!

Yay! Church is dead!

Canon use of the nickname "Em" for Emily!!!

Hello, Peter B! Nice to finally meet you!

I'm very surprised that Jade ISN'T dead

Jade's backstory breaks my heart

And they're making me emotional about Damien and Jade. AGAIN.

Oh shit she's bringing up Cyrus and Doyle and Mr. Scratch

Collecting my garvez crumbs!! I'm sure they had a very emotional, tearful, hugs-and-kisses reunion off screen.

Luke looking so intently at her ahhhh

Oh, Pete B must hold Prentiss responsible for something? Could it be, I don't know, the death of his older brother Doug?

SHOCKER Doug is Pete's older brother.

Voit GIGGLING makes my skin crawl

EMILY HAS A SISTER???? HAS THIS ALWAYS BEEN A THING???? HOW DID I NOT KNOW THAT???

"I didn't mean it like that" mean it like what??? I am so confused.

Luke the way you're always staring at her face is gonna clue someone in

Rossi telling THE DIRECTOR "if emily dies so do you, bitch"

"Can we turn down the testosterone for a second" rebecca don't make me like you

And all of a sudden the director is chill???

Help Voit has me CACKLING

"our girl" ew no you do NOT

"Your boyfriend's dead because you shot him, babe," EMILY???

the emphasis on deepfake with the glance over at luke *shudders* i know jj is watching this and feeling sick to her stomach

"but jenny i told you about this" VILE SICK DISGUSTING NO

"calm down, big guy" 😂😂😂

Tyler has me rolling with laughter

TY TY AND LUCAS I'M CRYING WITH LAUGHTER

Not Penelope making Voit physically uncomfortable by just LOOKING at him. my QUEEN.

the way i get giggly when luke calls her "Penelope" and not "Garcia"

"hey did you watch BAUgate yet" shut the FUCK UP

EW EW ELIAS USED FOOTAGE OF HIS WIFE???

JJ slayed that scene

i know they make it out of this. but i can't figure out how

Luke saving everyone's life on a HUNCH we stan

oh no jade still has the gold star bullet

i don't think jade is going to shoot them i think she's going to shoot herself

"will you listen to me, this time?" jade got me SOBBING

MILA AND JADE REUNION I'M SOBBING

PETE AND HIS PARENTS I'M SOBBING EVEN HARDER

no no. do NOT tell me that after all this i'm getting a GREENCIA scene.

okay false alarm. he seems to still be down bad-ish for her but she seems neutral (maybe bc she's dating someone else currently in that room)

Luke the heart eyesssssss

and tebecca is offically back together. my temily heart is crying.

"the worst part of dating a guy, no offense," *pats luke on the shoulder* DYING

"none taken" luke knows men ain't shit

"I'm just glad someone acknowledged the height disparity" luke you and your gf have THE SAME HEIGHT DIFFERENCE

Luke comforting Tyler DAMN i am loving this blossoming bromance

luke making eyes at Pen as they toast sir I SEE YOU

and voit's maybe dead! yay!

Look. so, my secret dating garvez theory wasn't proved right. BUT it has yet to be proved WRONG, so I shall continue to believe into the next season

Honestly I'm kind of underwhelmed by the finale. It was good, but I feel like it is very complete and there's no real cliffhanger left to continue on with another season. But I am liking what's happening with the caracters so far.

[a-roguish-gambit]

How is morph gonna tell logan they have their pregnant somthing cut like hiding tiny shoes in his or are they not gonna get the chance too?

They will probably get the chance as unlike rogue and gambit who aren't necessarily trying for anything and keep getting little ones as a result, Logan morph are actively trying. So Logan is probably checking in and asking if they are experiencing symptoms and such.

I imagine there's a few false alarms.

Logan makes a comment "how the hell is it easier to get pregnant through a one night stand than several months of trying..."

"well you can ask rogue...she seems to be an expert at it...she's already on bun batch two..."

"1. No way 2. Crimeinently! Already?! It's barely been a year and a half. What are those two, rabbits? And 3. Why didn't she tell me before you???"

"in fairness you tried to kill Remy the first time."

"yeah well he was the one screwing around with her without putting a ring on her hand first. And then he ran off after finding out-"

"to steal that those wedding bands his dad refused to let him use-"

"we didn't know that at first! Point is, I deserved to be told."

"well if you want when I'm finally knocked up we can wait to tell her."

"hell no she's gonna be one of the first shes practically family."

"....so you clearly aren't that upset then...."

"*grumbling* oh fuck you"

"you better if you want to get a baby before they are on their third!"

Anyways....Logan probably finds out really quickly. Any time morph gets sick any time their period is slightly late Logan is running to Beast to get them checked over to see what's up. So they would likely get the news together.

To which the reaction would be

Morph:.YESSS! HAH! TAKE THAT MOTHER NATURE! YOU ARE NO MATCH FOR THE STUBBORNNESS OF QUEER MUTANTS! *Clicks their heels and whoops, much to beast's dismay*

Logan: Jesus finally. We finally managed it. Was starting to worry it would be impossible and yet here we are...I'm gonna actually get to see my baby be born this time....woah...

Morph: this is so exciting! Logan! Spin me!

Logan: huh?

Morph: *jumps in his arms* SPIN ME! SPIN ME LIKE A GIDDY BRIDE!!! I'M PREGNANT!!!!

Logan: *shrugs* why the hell not. *Spins them around*

Beast: guys... please...I know you are excited but there is so much glass in here please don't knock anything over...

[loonarkives]

THE TAEIL SITUATION & THE NEW NTH ROOM - clearing some things up because i've seen a lot of misinformation online.

hi. i don't personally stan nct but i thought that making this post was very important to help people understand what's going on rn in SK and avoid all the bullshit that people are saying online due to misunderstanding and/or lack of better knowledge. before starting i'd like to say that this is not "taeil getting canceled". this is taeil being a fucking criminal and finally facing the consequences of his own actions.

let's get into it.

WHY DID THEY KICK HIM OUT OF NCT?

First thing first he wasn't really "kicked out", he agreed to leave the group, although apparently SM did not terminate the contract with the artist. Taeil was not being accused nor was he under investigation, he was CHARGED with a sexual offense related crime (SM did not specify what crime it was in their official statement), meaning that investigations were already carried out and enough evidence was gathered for the prosecution to file a case against him — "As we gathered the facts, we realized the seriousness of the case and decided that he could no longer continue to be a part of the team" is what SM stated in their official statement.

WHO IS THE VICTIM?

The victim can be found on Instagram as "anges_121430". On this account she tried to expose Taeil for about 6 months before his crimes came to light. She also used to handle a twitter account, created for the same purpose, but it was taken down due to (allegedly) Taeil's fans reports. People say that the victim recently turned 18 and Taeil has been molesting and harrassing her for 6 years, so since she was 12. There is no evidence to support this statement. No age was officially specified by the police. Some people on twitter said that it might be a mistranslation/misinterpretation of "18년" which appeared in the police report and means "year" (not "age"!!! please correct me if i'm wrong) suggesting that it started in 2018. Also beware because since SM's official statement there have been A LOT of fake screenshots going around. Of course i'm not sure that all of them are fake but make sure to carefully verify what you choose to believe, because spreading false info is very harmful to the victim and might result into a lack of credibility.

WERE THE OTHER NCT MEMBERS INVOLVED?

We can't be sure. As far as we're aware they were not, but this is a very delicate subject and we basically have no knowledge about it. While it might be suspicious that in a company with hundreds if not thousands of employees nobody knew for 6 years, i can tell you that it is possible for family members and close friends to hide their crimes and true identity from you for YEARS. I'm not gonna tell you to keep stanning nct and act like nothing happened, that is up to you and it's none of my business. I can however advice you to wait until the police comes forward with more evidence that proves the involvement of other members while continuing to treat them with some sort of sceptical attitude.

WHAT IS THE NTH ROOM?

So, a few years back the south korean police discovered a telegram room with thousands of members who shared intimate photos, sensitive information and revenge p0rn videos of women they knew, and it was rumored to have about 200 (if i'm not mistaken) male celebrities and politicians. The room was closed as soon as it was discovered but a new one was created - and it is the one we're dealing with right now. This room has far more participants (about 220.000 men, which is absolutely fucking disgusting) and they are now also sharing p0rn photos or videos made with deepfakes and AI (of which +200 are of female celebrities). The most alarming thing is that they also found material of ELEMENTARY, MIDDLE SCHOOL AND HIGH SCHOOL CHILDREN. There is also a third room, with about 1.200 members that was specifically made to target female university students.

WAS TAEIL A PART OF THE NTH ROOM?

No, or at least not that we know of. Many people believe that he was because of how close on the timeline the discovery of the new Nth Room and the revelation of his crimes were, but the police said nothing about it. We don't know if any idols were actually involved in the new Nth Room and (if they are) which idols were supposedly involved. I saw a rumor of a list that will be released soon: IT'S FAKE!!!!! DO NOT BELIEVE IT!!!! Believe NOTHING about this until actual police statements come out, PLEASE. This is a very serious situation and we don't need misinformation to make things messier. THIS IS NOT A GAME.

(Koreaboo's article: https://www.koreaboo.com/news/female-kpop-idols-deep-fake-porn/ )

- OTHER THINGS:

Is the list of the female idols whose material was found in the new Nth Room real? Unfortunately yes.

Is it true that Taeil hospitalized the victim's mother? NO. It is not true. He didn't hospitalize her, but it is true that he sent death threats to the victim and her mother while the latter was hospitalized.

Is it true that the victim's brother (or grandpa) broke Taeil's leg after finding out about what he did? This is just a rumor, and i also see a lot of confusion about it because some people say it was her brother, while other people say it was her grandpa. Despite this i personally believe that this might be true because i read somewhere that the day Taeil got injured there were no car accidents registered, but again: IT'S JUST A RUMOR!!!

Is it true that he assaulted and rap3d an 11 year old girl and paralyzed her for life? I have found no evidence that backs up this accusation so NO. But Taeil is still a fucking monster that deserves the worst. All the men involved in these two situations do. They don't deserve to be a part of the community of our planet. They deserve NOTHING. They should be treated like the fucking animals they are. Death upon these monsters and whoever supports and defends them. Pieces of shit.

Please excuse any typos and/or grammatical mistakes, unfortunately english isn't my first language!!! If i said anything wrong, if you have to clarify anything and if you have more evidence + news, please let me know by commenting, reblogging or messaging me. Remember to block and report IMMEDIATELY any account that shares deepfake p0rn content. Thank you.

more information about what's going on lately in SK: https://x.com/muixsuzuya/status/1828792968570122616?s=46

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Astronaut AU - Part 9

Masterpost

AU Summary: the boys as modern day NASA astronauts. Taking place in 2025, Bucky is about to head to the moon as mission commander of Artemis III while Buck is CAPCOM at NASA. Established relationship (obnoxiously in love).

Author's Note: This one got away from me a bit so it's longer than usual. And I've finally started putting this on ao3, so you can also ready here.

Acronym and terminology definitions

---

November 15, mission day 9 Lunar Orbit

The crew wakes in a groggy panic to the sounds of an alarm going off in the cabin, a red warning light flashing over the console. Bucky, dressed in NASA-issue pajamas with his curls stuck up in ridiculous directions from the zero G and lack of product, struggles to unzip his floating sleeping bag, which is suspended in the middle of the Orion capsule and secured at both ends. Alex and Rosie’s seats had been stowed once they were en route to the moon in order to make more space in the capsule for sleeping, working, and generally existing without being right on top of each other, but it only helps so much. They’ve been stuck in this glorified minivan for going on 9 days now, and they are only very slightly sick and tired of each other.

As Bucky tries to drag himself over to the console, his foot catches on Curt’s arm, flipping the other astronaut upside down in his own sleeping bag. “What the fuck, Bucky,” Curt groans. With nothing within arms reach to push off of, there’s no hope of flipping himself back over, so he starts trying to free himself from where he is.

“Gotta see how we’re gonna die this time,” Bucky replies unapologetically, settling into his commander’s seat so he can see the console properly.

“What time is it?” Alex asks with a yawn.

“5:50.” Bucky silences the master alarm, bringing quiet to the cabin once again. They’re ten minutes short of their typical wake-up call.

From the other side of the capsule, Rosie rubs his eyes with one hand. “Jesus Christ, we’d be screwed in an emergency.” The unconcerned way with which they’ve reacted to this alarm is not unlike the way college students would react to their apartment building’s fire alarm going off in the middle of the night for the third time in a row. But that’s because that’s basically what this is. They’ve had a number of false alarms already in the days since leaving low earth orbit.

Bucky ignores him and switches on his coms. “Houston? How do you read?”

Benny’s voice comes back. “We read you Bucky, loud and clear.”

Curt slides into his seat as Bucky squints at the silenced alarm still flashing bright red in front of his face. CO2.

“Looks like we’re suffocating again, Benny,” Bucky informs him.

“Copy that.” There’s a pause as Benny checks with the Emergency, Environmental, and Consumables Officer. “Our readings look fine. Don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Can you confirm up there?”

Curt and Bucky glance at the carbon dioxide meters on the console, and Curt shrugs, sighing in exasperation. “Looks fine here,” Bucky agrees. “Another false alarm.” 

This is the third time the carbon dioxide alarm has gone off without cause, but at least this time it happened relatively close to their normal wake-up time. On mission day 4, the cabin pressure sensor had jolted them all awake around 2:00am GMT. They spent nearly two hours sorting that out with Helen on CAPCOM, checking every square inch of the capsule and every line of telemetry data for an explanation. Turns out it was just some bad wiring, and Houston had to walk Alex through the steps to repair it before it would stop going off.

Fortunately, Dr. Huston and Jack Kidd, as Flight Surgeon and Flight Activities Officer, found a way to work some extra sleep into their schedule that day. Unfortunately, instead of just having a faulty wire, the CO2 sensor itself is fucked.

“We’ll get those sensors checked out when you come back Earthside,” Benny promises. “Unfortunately, our electricians have not agreed to extend operations to the moon. At least, not without a hefty house call fee.”

Bucky laughs tiredly. “The audacity of some people. What has the trade industry come to?”

“I could just break the sensor,” Curt offers.

“That’s a negative, Curt,” Benny responds. “EECOM says no.”

“Maybe EECOM should try wakin’ up to this fuckin’ alarm at all hours of the night.”

Benny kindly reminds them, “EECOM is wide awake with you.” Mission Control operates on GMT, along with the crew, meaning that while it’s 5:50am mission time, it’s actually 12:50 AM in Houston. These flight controllers just started their shifts fifty minutes ago. During a mission, normal work schedules simply don’t exist for the team on the ground any more than they do for the crew in space.

Before either Bucky or Curt can say something snarky back, obnoxious pop music is blasting through the cabin from Bucky’s tablet, which is their designated alarm clock on board Orion. “There’s our wake-up call,” Bucky mutters.

“I got it,” Alex calls over to him, floating across the cabin to get the tablet, which is velcroed to the wall.

“Hey hold on!” Curt reaches his hand out. “Give it a minute!” He starts obnoxiously singing along, jamming out beside Bucky to the point that he loses his grip on his seat and starts floating away. 

“I’m a real tough kid, I can handle my shit, they said babe you gotta fake it ‘til you make it and I did.”

The other three join in despite their exhaustion, Bucky and Curt not even bothering to switch off their coms. “Lights, camera bitch, smile, even when you wanna die. He said he’d love me all his life.” Bucky is, admittedly, very pleased when he realizes he can hear many of the flight controllers singing along in the background. It’s a small thing, but their wake up music choices make everyone’s day just a little better. Alex shuts off the alarm.

“Hey Benny,” Bucky says. “Can you ask Gale if he’ll love me all his life?”

“Ask him yourself in… five to six hours.”

“But that’s too long,” Bucky whines. “I need to know now.”

“He’s asleep. Ask your wedding ring, you idiot.”

Bucky grabs at the wedding ring that’s dangling – or, rather, floating – on a chain around his neck. Astronauts often choose to wear rings on necklaces like this in space, since it’ll be easier to grab them if they float away. Bucky has only lost it once so far, which everyone is quite impressed with. He rubs his thumb over the silver band, and Curt makes a gagging noise beside him. 

“Astrofag,” he coughs.

Bucky gives him the middle finger.

With the false alarm and the morning shenanigans out of the way, Benny composes himself and gives the crew a proper morning greeting as Alex and Rosie put on their coms. “Alright, rise and shine boys, big day today!”

“We’re in space. Every day is a big day,” Rosie points out, unimpressed, before starting to fold up and stow the crew’s sleeping bags. He isn’t wrong. Every day in this space-traveling RV is something new. Every day is a little closer to something historic. Every day is something else that could kill them. But today is the day that Bucky and Curt say goodbye to their crewmates and descend to the lunar surface for a week-long all-inclusive stay. So yes, it is a big day. 

“How about a news update,” Benny offers.

“The news is too fucking depressing,” Alex complains.

Benny agrees. “How about a JSC news update, then? Let’s see…” The crew can hear him as he muffles his com and calls out to the other flight controllers in Mission Control, “Who has news?”

Then he speaks to the crew again. “Croz’s kid turned one year old yesterday. A very happy birthday to the little guy. I’m sure you’ll see pictures when you’re home, he smashed a huge piece of cake right into his face.” Bucky smiles and relays his birthday wishes. “Perhaps more importantly,” Benny continues. “Meatball turns five next week.”

“I know for a fact you don’t know Meatball’s birthday,” Bucky interjects.

“Well, the vets think he’s about five, and I just gave him a random birthday.”

“Naturally.” Bucky double checks their trajectory on the console, taking note of how long they have until Starship has to undock.

“Hey, don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same,” Benny says defensively.

“I know my dog’s birthday.”

“Not all of us are perfect pet parents, John. Some of us win our dogs gambling.”

Bucky snorts. “A great slogan for a pet food brand.”

Benny moves on. “We’re having good weather in Houston this week. Looks like we saw the last of hurricane season on launch day. Blue skies – well, not now. It’s midnight-”

Curt situates himself back in his seat and tries to rub the tiredness from his eyes. “Benny why do I give a shit what the weather is in Houston? Ain’t gonna be there for another 20 fuckin’ days.”

“Fine,” Benny says. “The weather at the lunar south pole looks… unremarkable. 24/7 sun except in the shadows. Hot as hell in the light and cold as hell in the dark. Landing conditions look as acceptable as can be expected.”

“Wait, is Hell hot or cold?” Curt asks. “You’re sendin’ me mixed messages here.”

“That’s it. No more news.”

Bucky chuckles and pushes up and away from his console, floating across the cabin to the food ration storage. “Thanks for the update, Benny.”

As usual, Benny tells them all to get some food in their systems before they reconvene to go over the day’s mission plan. Bucky pulls some silver rehydratable food packages out of storage and squints at the labels. Pickings are slim, but not all together awful. “Alright crew,” he says, holding one of the packages up. “We’ve got oatmeal, wheat chex, or scrambled eggs. Take your pick and eat up.”

—

Nassau Bay, TX

Gale wakes around 4:30am, not alone as would be expected, but instead with two cold, wet noses nudging at his face, attacking from all sides. He and Benny have once again gotten into a habit of co-parenting Pepper and Meatball so they’re not alone for too long during the chaos of Artemis 3. The dogs get to hang out together 24/7, moving from Gale’s house to Benny’s and back each day depending on who's on shift at Mission Control. With Benny on the early shift, Gale has them from about 8pm until he leaves in the morning. Benny will drop by to pick them up once he gets Gale updated on mission activities and leaves JSC. 

Nothing about human spaceflight is normal, not even for those on the ground. They work weird hours, sleep weird hours, and no one ever knows what’s about to happen at any given moment. Gale works the Red shift, from 8am CST until 4pm. This corresponds to 1pm to 9pm GMT, the time zone that the crew and Mission Control operate on. Helen then takes over and works the White shift from 4pm to 12am CST. Benny is on Blue shift from 12am to 8am. Even this is misleading, though. There’s up to an hour of overlap between each shift for one shift to get the next up to speed, resulting in a ten hour work day seven days a week.

Today, that’s all fucked up anyway. Gale has to go in two hours earlier than usual so that no shift change has to occur between Starship undocking and landing, giving the crew a constant Mission Control team through the entire process.

So he yawns as he looks out at the dark, pre-sunrise morning, and he shoves the huskies off the bed so he can get to his feet. After stretching out the sore muscles in his back, he rubs one hand, covered by his sweatshirt sleeve, over his face and pauses to inhale the scent still barely clinging to the fabric. He can imagine John going on and on, wondering how Gale doesn’t get hot at night all bundled up like that. But right now, Gale doesn’t have his space heater of a husband to keep him warm, so he needs to make up for it somehow. He’s been sleeping in the Yankees sweatshirt nearly every night since launch, and he’s dreading the day he can’t pick out John’s scent anymore. For the moment, he smiles softly to himself, assured that it’s still there, and he gets on with his morning.

Opting not to take a jog before it’s even 5am, Gale takes himself through a quick bodyweight workout in the bedroom. Squats, push-ups, sit-ups, planks, all while fending off two massive dogs insistent on shoving into his space. Then he takes what can only be described as a military shower, in and out, before scrambling to find a clean button-down shirt and tie. After starting the coffee maker, he turns the TV onto the news story he’d recorded last night. 

“Tomorrow, The Starship Human Landing System will undock from Orion to carry John Egan and Curtis Biddick to the lunar surface.” Marge, as Artemis PAO, is sitting across from an NBC reporter, explaining the details of the Artemis 3 mission plan.

“And how long will it take the lander to reach the lunar surface?” the reporter asks.

“About half a day,” Marge replies. Then she goes on to outline the landing process. 

“Our two astronauts will perform a controlled burn that will decelerate the lander enough to fall into the moon’s gravity well. This means that they will depart from the current Orion orbit and instead descend into low lunar orbit. From low lunar orbit, they will perform another burn that will slow them down enough to fall towards the lunar surface, where they will land near Shackleton crater.”

“And the remaining crew members in Orion will stay in their current orbit?”

“Yes, Orion will remain in NRHO, a near-rectilinear halo orbit. This means that their orbit is balanced between the moon’s gravity and the Earth’s gravity. It’s an elliptical orbit, taking about six and a half days to complete, where they fly very close to the moon at one end, and very far from it at the other. This period of time will correspond to the surface mission.” A window pops up on one side of the screen showing a simulation of Orion in NRHO, complete with Starship undocking and heading for LLO. 

“So when Orion next completes its orbit, Starship will dock with it again?”

Marge nods. “Yes. They’ll meet up again in about a week.”

“And Shackleton crater. That’s at the moon’s south pole?”

The display window on the screen switches to a map of the Shackleton landing site. “Artemis operations are focused on the lunar south pole, where there’s near constant daylight for mission activities and power generation, as well as craters and valleys that are in constant or near constant shadow. So there’s parts of the surface there that have never been exposed to sunlight. Our astronauts will be performing a lot of experiments on the surface, such as studying lunar geology and searching for water ice.”

Gale pulls out his phone and texts Marge. “Look at you on TV.”

A reply shoots back immediately. “Please bring caffeine.”

Gale rolls his eyes, and then heads back into the kitchen to make up two cups of coffee, one black and one with an unhealthy amount of sugar. When he arrives at JSC, Marge greets him at his car, as is their typical routine. She greedily grabs the coffee cup he proffers and takes a desperate sip.

“You’re welcome,” Gale deadpans.

Marge glares at him. “Thank you.”

“What’s up with you?”

Marge blinks rapidly and pinches the bridge of her nose. Makeup conceals the dark circles that are starting to appear under her eyes, and Gale knows he has them, too. “This mission will be the death of me,” she declares.

Gale doesn’t press, because yes. Yes, this mission will be the death of them all. He wonders if the stress level they feel, the inconsistent sleep and the constant demand to always be at their best, is reminiscent of the Apollo days, when nothing about a single mission was standard. In many ways, Artemis is just as novel, if not more so, to the current NASA team than the later Apollo missions were. Every single person involved has trained hard; every component of this mission has been tested. And yet there’s a vague sense nestled in the back of everyone’s mind that they’re kind of out here winging it.

For what it’s worth, Mission Control is calm this morning. Flight controllers diligently monitor their designated systems, updating or reworking things as needed, an idle chatter popping up in this or that corner of the room. The new shift is filing in, getting themselves up to speed. Gale pats Marge on the shoulder as they enter, and they part ways.

“Morning,” Gale mumbles as he stops beside Benny at the CAPCOM console. “Are they ready?”

—

Low Lunar Orbit

John Egan and Curtis Biddick have landed a lot of jets in their lifetimes. They’ve landed a lot of jets in very precarious circumstances, in all manner of environments. They’ve flown them high and low, fast and slow, day and night, with and without landing gears, and sometimes on fire. They’re good pilots. Some of the best NASA has to offer, many might say.

The Starship Human Landing System is about as opposite of a jet as you can get.

Starship is nothing like the Apollo lunar module that today’s astronauts grew up dreaming about, though in their own ways they may be equally unwieldy. Instead of being small and low to the surface, the Artemis HLS is a tall and narrow vehicle, more akin to what science fiction would describe as a spaceship, with the crew seated near the top. When it was first proposed, there was concern over landing such a tall vehicle, especially with no atmosphere and little gravity to help balance it. But the engineers, the testing, and even the sims claim that it gets the job done.

Commander and pilot spent months in the simulators, learning how to handle this awkward thing of a rocket-turned-space-habitat, and neither of them have enjoyed a single moment of it. “It’s like ridin’ one of those giant unicycles,” Curt said once. He’s never been on one himself, and there’s a damn good reason for that. “It’s too fuckin’ tall.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pilot, Curt,” Benny had admonished him. “Figure it out.”

So here he is, figuring it out. “I’m an Air Force test pilot and this is what I get for it, tryin’ to land in a fuckin’ pringles can.”

“Yeah, sure that’s one way to think about landing on the moon,” Rosie rebukes from Orion, which is still in NRHO now somewhere far away from Curt and Bucky.

Bucky sighs longingly. “I could go for some pringles,”

Curt scoffs. “We got wheat chex.”

Gale: “Curt, think of it this way, only the best pilot could land a pringles can in one-sixth G.”

Curt: “Tryin’ to butter me up, Gale?”

Gale: “Whatever gets you on the ground safely.”

Bucky: “No. No buttering.”

Curt: “5,000 feet.”

Bucky: “Trajectory good.”

Curt: “It better fuckin’ be.”

Curt takes a deep breath, eyes locked on the console in front of him. He hates this. Not being able to clearly see where he’s landing, even if it’s half computer automated, which he also hates. He didn’t become a pilot or an astronaut to be a passenger princess, and he sure as hell isn’t trusting his life to a computerized landing module.

From the windows at the top of their silver tower, Bucky watches the lunar surface grow bigger and bigger beneath them, its curvature disappearing entirely as they approach their landing site at the south pole. He sings quietly to himself. “For here, am I floating in a tin can, far above the moon.” 

Gale: “Starship, be advised, you seem to be on VOX.”

VOX meaning Bucky’s coms are currently voice activated, as opposed to Push to Talk, or PTT. Every time he says something loudly enough, his coms pick it up and transmit it to Houston. It’s been a minor (major) issue for the entirety of the mission so far, but if nothing else, amusing to the flight controllers.

Bucky: “Your point?”

Gale: “Our flight controllers here in Houston would like me to tell you you have a lovely singing voice.” 

Bucky can hear the sarcasm, and seriously? From his own husband? The man who is supposed to love and support him unconditionally? Bucky can almost always make Gale laugh, no matter how moody he’s being, by singing a little off-key and pulling him into a reluctant dance. 

Bucky: “They should be so honored.”

Gale: “Houston would also like me to remind you, once again, that everything you say is being transcribed.” He relays these words, but he sounds defeated and unconvinced. He’s right to be. If Houston hasn’t convinced the crew to stop being little shits by now, it won’t happen for the rest of the mission.

Curt: “Fuck Houston.”

Gale: “Still on VOX.”

Curt: “If I were on PPT I’d still say that over coms.”

Gale: “I know, and I’m starting to think we’ll need someone to go through and redact these transcripts cause of your language. Top brass isn’t pleased.”

Curt: “I live to displease.”

Curt squints at the console in front of him, running the numbers in his head before he points out the discrepancy he’s seeing to Bucky. Bucky glances out the window.

Bucky: “Houston, we seem to be entering a roll.”

Gale: “... Come again? Didn’t quite catch that.”

Bucky switches his coms to PPT to make the transmission clearer. “A roll. We aren’t supposed to be entering a roll, are we?” He waits as Gale discusses with Bubbles, GNC, and Croz, FIDO.

Gale: “That’s a negative. We’re working on sorting out why the control software authorized that. Can you course correct?”

Curt: “I’ll try.” He fires the thrusters and manages to stop the roll. “Fuckin’ computer.”

Bucky stifles a laugh as he reads out their coordinates. 1,500 feet to go, and he can see Shackleton Crater ahead. The part of Bucky that isn’t a highly qualified professional is buzzing with ‘are we there yet’ energy, trying to keep his heart rate from spiking in anticipation.

Curt: “What are the odds of this thing tipping over on us, Gale?”

There’s a mildly concerning pause.

Gale: “We don’t have exact numbers on that. Is ‘low’ a good enough answer?”

Curt: “I’ll take it.”

Bucky: “Coming up on Shackleton. I can see the site.”

Curt: “500 feet.”

Bucky: “Jesus, that’s something, isn’t it?” The vehicle flies right over the massive crater like it’s nothing more than a pothole in the road. A pothole that’s 13 miles across. Below the rim, it’s completely consumed by darkness. 

Gale finds himself holding his breath in Mission Control, something he’s been doing a lot this mission. He hasn’t yet sorted out if he’d be doing that no matter what, or if it’s because Bucky is on that lander. He twists the wedding ring around his finger as he listens to Croz calmly relay Starship’s altitude. The thrusters lining the top of the lander fire, controlling its descent at the top of a ridge near Shackleton.

Curt: “Easy, easy babe.” 

Starship sets down on the surface, barely any harder than a bird landing on a tree branch. Everyone, in Mission Control, on the lander, and on Orion, can breathe easy again. Bucky leans his head back in his helmet and pumps a fist.

Curt: “Houston, we have touchdown at Shackleton crater.”

—

Houston, TX

Later that night, Gale leans back against the bartop at the Hundred Proof, glass of soda in hand. On the TV behind the bar, there’s another news story playing about the upcoming moonwalk. By the end of Gale’s shift today, Bucky and Curt were settled on the lunar surface, preparing for the week ahead. They would take the night to eat, rest, and do some basic housekeeping. Tomorrow they will take their first steps on the moon.

Gale looks around the Hundred Proof, taking a sip of his drink. Much of Red Shift, as well as some of Benny’s Blue Shift, made the pilgrimage to the bar to decompress tonight. Croz, Bubbles, and Jack are playing pool in the back. Gale’s seen a few of his other team members milling about with drinks in hand, playing darts or watching sports on the other TVs. Even Clark has taken the time to join his team in letting a load off, laughing as Croz fails miserably to make an eight ball shot.

For just a few hours, no one would even know that these men and women have the weight of the world on their shoulders.

“It’s fuckin’ crazy, what we’re doing.” Benny joins Gale at the bar, leaning back against the counter as he sips a beer. 

“The two of us are just on the ground,” Gale replies. 

“Takes a village.” Benny crosses his arms over his chest, his beer resting against his bicep. He’s dressed in a dark lightweight sweater and jeans. Gale, on the other hand, is still wearing his button down and slacks, his tie loosened and his top button undone the way that always makes Bucky grin and grab onto the tie, dragging him in for a kiss. Bucky’s on the moon, though. And Gale’s just tired.

“It’ll be you next, anyways,” Benny adds, tilting his head to glance at Gale. “You know how jealous I am?”

Gale can’t help the way the corner of his mouth turns up in a little half smile, but he shrugs. “You were just on the station. Too soon to send you back. If you’re lucky, we’ll survive past Artemis 4 and you’ll get yourself on 5.”

Benny takes another swig of beer, and Gale mimics him, sipping his own drink. He rubs his thumb over the condensation gathered around the sides of his glass. “We’ll survive,” Benny asserts.

Gale really hopes so. Seeing Artemis end so soon would break his heart. But you never know what tomorrow will bring, and he wonders if Apollo-era astronauts felt the same way. He thinks they did. “What makes you so sure?”

“Sure is the only thing you can be around here, isn’t it?” Benny shrugs. “And if we’re not sure, we have to act like we are.”

Gale knows he’s right. If they don’t believe in a future here, then no one else will. He glances around the bar, at his coworkers and friends joking and drinking and having a good time. Every single one of them believes wholeheartedly in what they’re doing here, and every single one will fight to keep it going. Come what may.

The Hundred Proof has this transcendent, timeless quality. Classic rock plays through the speakers, and a vintage charm seeps from the walls, lined with NASA memorabilia like a time capsule over half a century old. It’s hardly changed a bit since its early days, with the exception of new televisions and perhaps new drinkware, although no one is really sure about that one. Just about every astronaut who has ever suited up for the United States space program since Apollo has walked on these floors and sat at this bar. Tonight, as it offers its comforts to weary flight controllers ahead of another history-making shift, it feels as if time has stood still. It could just as easily be 1969 or 1972 or 1995. It could just as easily be another era, another mission, and another unknown.

Gale wonders if flight controllers like him and his friends sought out this place in decades past, preparing themselves for the next shift, the next landing, the next moonwalk. If they had the same fears and the same hopes. He wonders if this place looked the exact same as it does right now, harkening back to a past that was too long ago, a hope for the future that NASA has dragged itself back to tooth and nail.

It’s possible that no space mission in this lifetime will ever compare to the way Apollo 11 captured the attention of an entire nation. Of the entire developed world. When Neil Armstrong stepped foot on the moon – “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” – nearly every household and every TV-owning establishment in the United States was tuned in. Everyone dropped what they were doing to stare at the fuzzy black and white video feed and watch a man walk on an extraterrestrial surface for the very first time. Everyone who remembers that day can tell you exactly where they were and what they were doing the moment those first footprints were pressed into the fine lunar soil. 

After that, though, moon landings were seen as routine. By the time Apollo 17 came around, the glimmer of futuristic hope and novelty was fading. Anyone who knew anything about it would tell you that there’s not a single thing that’s routine about landing on the moon. But it didn’t matter; for the public that would never be in that Mission Control room or on that space capsule, it lost its grandeur. 

The funding stopped. 

No one in power wanted to prioritize a lunar program anymore. America had made their point. They’d proved they could do it, proved their superiority in the space race. And dreams of landing on the moon were left to children with stars in their eyes and adventure in their hearts. 

Children like John Egan and Curtis Biddick. 

John Egan has wanted to be an astronaut for as long as he can remember. A little boy with unruly hair and an even more unruly spirit, climbing trees so he could be as close to the sky as the Earth would allow. He went to sleep with his ceiling covered in glow in the dark stars and built model rockets with his dad on the weekends. Almost every decision he’s ever made has been with this end goal in mind. 

He told Gale the first time they ever met that he intended to be an astronaut. He went to school for engineering even though he and mathematics didn’t get along, forcing him to forge through calculus and physics with a blind determination to get himself to where he needed to be. He joined the Air Force ROTC. He became a pilot. He took to the sky and never looked back, always more at home in the clouds than on the ground. Other than Gale Cleven, sitting in a cockpit was the only thing that could settle Bucky’s wayward energy. When the time was right, he applied to NASA, just like he always said he would. It took two tries, but they accepted him. He became an astronaut candidate. He flew on the international space station. He even did it all with Gale at his side. He did everything he’d always dreamed of doing, except one thing:

Step foot on the moon. 

But after tomorrow, he’ll have done that, too.  

Mission Control will be packed tomorrow morning; almost every flight controller on every shift will be there to watch the Artemis 3 crew leave the first footprints at the lunar south pole. Gale will be there, as a flight controller, as a NASA astronaut, and as a husband. He will watch his husband emerge from the Starship hatch and step down onto that lunar surface. He’ll be sitting in a front row seat to see the culmination of nearly two decades of watching John Egan work his ass off to accomplish his dreams. He’ll be right there, his voice guiding John through every step as his legacy is broadcast live to the entire world.

He couldn’t be more proud. Even if he has no fucking clue what will come out of John’s mouth when his boots hit the ground. He can only hope it’s nothing catastrophically embarrassing.

–

It was only weeks ago that Gale walked into their living room, Pepper trotting at his heels, to find Bucky laying on his back on the floor in front of the couch with his hands covering his eyes. A notebook and pen were haphazardly on the floor beside him. 

“What are you doing?” Gale had asked, as Pepper took over her role of protector and started licking Bucky’s face, trying to bring him back to the living.

Bucky had just groaned loudly, pulling his hands away from his face to stare up at Gale forlornly. So Gale bent down and picked up the notebook, which he wasn’t aware Bucky even owned. Flipping through pages of chicken scratch writing, he sat on the couch and tried not to laugh as he read through the brain-dump words. “Are these things to say when you land on the moon?”

Bucky sat up and crossed his legs, which Pepper took as an invitation to lay half in his lap. “Yep.”

There has been absolutely no shortage of people reminding Bucky that he will be the first person to set foot on the moon since 1972. It’s a big deal, and it will be broadcast live to the entire world. He’s been wracking his brain for things to say at such a significant moment in human history, knowing he has massive shoes to fill but not wanting to sound too cheesy, too outdated or philosophical, too… anything. How do you measure up to Neil Armstrong without sounding like you’re trying to be Neil Armstrong? Sometimes Bucky feels like nothing more than a little kid playing astronauts in the yard, pretending to be his childhood hero. 

No one ever expected him to get this far, and now the world is watching. Most of them adore him. Others hate him. If we’re lucky the fag will die up there. Planet Earth is a tumultuous place, but Bucky’s grit and determination have never faltered. He just never expected to be anyone else’s hero.

What words are there to bring a world together when every day it feels like it’s crumbling? Does it even matter what he says? Is it enough that he’s there? Do people actually care about what comes out of his mouth? Will his first words be stuck to him for the rest of his life – a legacy or a shackle? Will they print them in the history books, resound them for future generations? Or will they fade into obscurity like the words of every Apollo astronaut that came after Armstrong? Just a few more words said by another guy whose name most people won’t remember a few decades from now.

“‘With a single step, we return to the unknown for all mankind,’” Gale read from the notebook. “That’s… not bad?”

Bucky shrugged. “A little on the nose.”

“‘As we step onto the lunar surface once again, we bring with us all that we know, and all that we love, to move forward into a brighter future.’”

Bucky made a face as Pepper nudged at his hand with her wet nose. He stroked the top of her head gently, thinking that she had him trained and not the other way around. “Feels sappy.”

Gale glanced down at him. “You are sappy.”

“You’re the only one who knows that.”

Gale rolled his eyes and flipped a few more pages. Bucky closed his eyes as he waited for what was coming, knowing he’d been slowly devolving into madness. Gale choked on a laugh. “‘Hello world, I’m on the fucking moon.’ ‘To all the professors who tried to fail me, who’s laughing now.’ ‘I have the high ground.’ – God, you’re a nerd.” Bucky stuck his tongue out at him before he could continue. “‘Welcome to the shit show.’ ‘Hold on, let me take a selfie.’ ‘We’re here and we’re queer, fight me.’” Gale squinted at the page, running his thumb along some concoction of supposed letters. “I can’t read this one.”

Bucky leaned his head back against the couch so Gale could hold the notebook in front of his face, pointing to a barely legible scrawl across the top of the page. “We’re back, bitches.”

Gale nodded thoughtfully. “Alternatively, the bitch is back.”

“And then I’ll lower my visor like sunglasses,” Bucky nodded. “Stare off into the lunar sunrise. Make a moment of it.”

“Probably not the moment NASA wants,” Gale acquiesced, throwing the notebook to the couch cushion beside him. “You could sing Into the Unknown from Frozen.”

“Oh sure.” Bucky chuckled, scratching at Pepper’s ears. “I can see the headlines. ‘NASA Sends Crazy Queer to Space.’”

“We’re all mad here.”

“This ain’t Alice in Wonderland.”

“It’s true though.” Gale reached his hand down, making a grabbing motion until Bucky noticed and twined their fingers together, letting Gale tug him up onto the couch to Pepper’s dismay. Bucky settled against Gale’s side, mindlessly fiddling with Gale’s fingers like he often does. Gale smiled and leaned his head against Bucky’s, pressing his lips into soft, dark hair. “I’m a fan of welcome to the shit show.”

“Something tells me NASA won’t be.”

A few moments passed, and for those few moments, they weren’t anyone special. They were just a married couple curled up together on the couch. 

Then Gale said, “Maybe something about why it’s so important? Why we’re going back at all.”

Bucky thought for a moment, staring out the window at the night sky beyond. An entire universe that they’ve barely cracked the surface of, worlds and worlds that they may never get to explore. Both Bucky and Gale have always been endlessly fascinated by the infinite unknown. 

“We return to the moon not as a final frontier, but as a stepping stone on humanity’s expedition to explore the wider universe.”

“Mmm.” Gale tilted his head, considering. “That might be too optimistic. Don’t want to be making promises on NASA’s behalf.”

“In case we can’t get our shit together?” Bucky scoffed. Gale nodded, and Bucky had to agree. “Okay, how about, ‘this is the best fucking day of my life.’”

Gale frowned, pulling away to look at Bucky more directly. “I thought marrying me was the best day of your life.”

Bucky’s hair brushed against Gale’s cheek as he turned to look at him, too, letting himself drown in perfect blue eyes as he lifted his hand to cup the side of Gale’s face. “It was,” he breathed out. He kissed Gale then, with a gentle passion that carried with it a silent promise of you are my everything, you are my home. I will come back to you. When Bucky pulled away, he stroked his thumb over Gale’s jaw and let himself marvel at this life he’d made for himself. He’s doing everything he’s ever dreamed of, and he can’t ask for much more. But somewhere along the way, he’d gotten so damn lucky even on top of all of that. This man in front of Bucky, holding him in his arms with such love and warmth, has always been, and always will be, the best thing to ever happen to him. “Gale?” he whispered. 

“Yeah?” Gale’s voice came out in a puff of breath against Bucky’s cheek.

“I love you.”

–

So that’s what Gale thinks as he watches the screen at the front of Mission Control, which is showing video feed from the camera Curt is holding as he follows John to the hatch. It’s what he thinks as he watches the hatch open and John – not physically recognizable because of his bulky EVA suit and yet unequivocally John – stops at the top of the steps that are lowering to the surface. I love you. I love you I love you I love you. 

He can feel everyone in Mission Control holding their breath again. The whole world is holding their breath, crowded around TV screens and computers and phones, waiting. Waiting to see John Egan and Curtis Biddick step foot on the lunar surface. Waiting to hear what John will say to commemorate this moment.

Gale is pleasantly surprised, and admittedly relieved, to hear the words that Bucky has chosen to speak into the world. As the Artemis commander grips the side of the hatch, he looks out at the lunar surface beyond, at the untread terrain that they have the honor to explore. “It sure took us a long time, but we finally made it back,” he remarks. Then he takes a deep breath and hesitates, and Gale knows that, despite Bucky’s cocksure attitude and impulsive personality, he wants to get this right. 

“As we step foot into this beautiful unknown once again,” he says. “We do it not just for ourselves, but for the people of planet earth. We do it for everyone who dares to dream of a brighter future. Everyone who dares to step with us.”

Then he steps delicately onto the surface, and his boot sinks into the fine lunar soil below. One foot, and then the other. One step, and then another. 

He’s on the moon.

“How’s it look, John?” Gale asks.

Bucky turns slowly, open-mouthed, thinking that he feels like he’s on another world before his brain catches up and remembers that it is another world. They’re at the top of a massive ridge connecting two even more massive craters. The sun is just above the horizon, casting long, eerie shadows across the surface where it hits the crater rims. It’s silent. Peaceful. Like he just wants to sit right down on the ground and take it all in for a while.

“John?”

“Hi angel,” Bucky says, too in awe to realize he just called his CAPCOM “angel” on a globally televised broadcast. Neither of them will ever live it down.

But Gale only chuckles. “You okay up there?”

Curt, stepping down off the lander behind Bucky, adjusts the camera so he can record their surroundings. “I think we’re just a little in awe, Buck,” he says, since Bucky seems incapable.

But Bucky manages to find his words again as he steps further away from the lander, Curt recording him from behind as they both test out the gravity on the surface, taking a few bounding strides forward. “It’s incredible,” Bucky breathes, raising his arms out to the sides as if he can somehow absorb this experience into his mind and body. 

He motions to Curt, grabbing for the camera so he can get some airtime, too. He records as Curt bounds a few long and ungainly slow-motion steps away, trying to work out the best way to move in this new environment. Bucky follows behind clumsily.

“See that, world?” he says as he pans the camera around, giving visual of their lander stretching up to the dark sky, the beautifully foreboding crater some distance behind it, the rocky terrain on all sides streaked with long shadows, Curt dropping to his knees into the rough and sandy regolith. “You’re looking at the lunar south pole. No one has ever stepped foot on this part of the moon, but you’re seeing it right now. It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, Bucky,” Gale tells him, as their only link to the rest of the planet.

“Buck,” Curt interrupts as he lets a handful of the soil, fine and sharp like grains of glass, sift between his gloved fingers. “Can confirm the moon is not made of cheese.”

“Alright, Curt,” Gale replies, all too serious. “Thank you for that observation, we’ll note it down. Just please don’t taste it.”

“No promises.”

After a few more minutes of bounding around in wonder and narrating what they’re seeing, Curt and Bucky sign off from their live broadcast.

“O2 levels look good,” Gale informs them. “How’s the pressure feel?”

“It’s fine,” Bucky replies. “It’s dropped just a bit. A little easier to move. I expect it’ll keep improving as we get going here.”

A suit that decreases pressure in increments was NASA’s solution to their decompression sickness problem. When the body is too quickly exposed to low pressure environments, gases dissolved in bodily fluids, namely nitrogen, bubble out, causing a whole host of health issues called ‘the bends’ or decompression sickness. Designing a space suit that maintains the same pressure as the crew cabin – which is the same as mean sea level pressure on Earth – would result in a stiff suit that is impossible to move in. Typically, astronauts on the ISS spend many hours before an EVA pre-breathing – breathing pure oxygen to allow the body enough time to naturally purge the nitrogen – making it possible for them to safely wear EVA suits with a much lower pressure. To shorten this amount of time, astronauts may do physical activity while breathing pure O2, making the body rid itself of nitrogen even faster.

NASA wanted to reduce pre-breathing time as much as possible on Artemis. So on top of some time spent pre-breathing during exercise, the suits are equipped with oxygen regulators, which gradually decrease the suit pressure over time as the crew is out on the surface. Their suits are at a higher pressure when they first start the EVA, and as their nitrogen levels drop during the EVA, the suit pressure decreases, making it much easier to move around.

NASA didn’t come to the moon to play. They’re here for the future. To learn and to work and to push humanity to new heights. It’s a testing ground of sorts, to see how extended extraterrestrial missions may be feasible. The mission is designed for maximum productivity, and they have a lot to do here in the next week. Every single element has been designed with that in mind.

“Good to hear,” Gale says. “Now let’s get to work.”

…

…

Part 10

A3’s planned flight path for those interested:

(Image from NASA)

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 31

Previous chapter | Next chapter (coming out on Thursday)

Masterlist

“I'm so sorry, Declan. I swear I thought this time was the one.”

“You don't need to apologize, Liv.”

“Don't I? It's the third time I've thought I'm in labour and then…”

And then nothing. It is just another false alarm.

My due date is in a couple of days, but for the last week I've been feeling all types of cramps and discomfort, and we've ended up at the hospital twice. 

The first time was while Declan was at some kind of pre-season training camp in Portugal and I was alone in the house with his mum. When I described to her what I was feeling she also thought the baby was coming, so we called for a taxi and went  to the hospital. But after a quick exam, they told me everything was ok and that it wasn't time yet. While all that was happening, Declan had already packed all his things and was about to jump into a car and go to the airport. 

The next false alarm was at night, the pain being so unbearable that I woke up Declan with my screams and scared the hell out of him. But when we made it to the hospital, it was gone. They checked me again just in case something was wrong since the pain had been horrible, but they only told me that the baby was in the right position and that everything was ready.

And then, we have today. We were having lunch with his mum when I started to be in pain again, and this time it was different. So we packed everything, called my doctor… and halfway there the pain was gone, which makes me think that it may have been just air if you know what I mean.  

“What you are feeling is normal, Liv” Declan's mum says. “It is your first pregnancy, you don't know what to expect.”

“Yeah, but… You all must be so tired of me…”

“I could never get tired of you, Liv” Declan says, giving me a look that makes my stomach do a flip, something that definitely doesn't help with all these false alarms.

“Thank you. I guess” I manage to reply.

“Why don't we finish having lunch? We can still warm up everything” his mum says.

“I think I'm gonna go take a nap. Resting may do me good.”

“Then I'll save you some food for later. You need to eat and keep your strength just in case.”

“Thank you” I smile.

“Do you want me to help you go up the stairs and get in bed?” Declan offers.

“I'll do it myself, don't worry.”

“Ok” he nods, his eyes fixed on me as I leave the kitchen.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Breathe, Olivia. Breathe” I say to myself while looking at my reflection in the bathroom’s mirror, my hands grabbing the sink with such strength that my knuckles have turned white. “That definitely felt like what they say your water breaking feels like. But maybe it wasn't that. Maybe… fuck!”

No, that was real. That pain was very real.

“Ok, ok” I say again as it goes away. “You have to go downstairs, Olivia. You can't start yelling like a madwoman and scare everyone” I say as I slowly leave the bathroom, focusing on my breathing like I was taught. “Step by step. And we breathe. We… breathe.”

As I walk down the stairs, I can hear Declan and his mum talking in the kitchen.

“I was going to tell her, mum. I was finally going to do it. But then the accident happened, her dad kicked her out and I just… She was too vulnerable.”

“But you have to tell her, Declan. You are about to have a baby together!”

“I know, mum. But it isn't that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because in case you've forgotten, I behaved like a dick with her and broke her heart. I hurt her really bad, mum. Really, really bad. I can't just go to her now and be like, hey, Liv. I'm in love with you and have basically been since the day we met.”

He… what?

“Fuck!” I cry, making both Declan and his mum turn around to look at me while I hold onto the kitchen door's frame as if my life depended on it. 

“Liv! What are you doing here? Are you ok?” he says, quickly running towards me.

“I think this time it isn't a false alarm.”

“What?”

“I suddenly woke up from my nap feeling something weird, went to the bathroom and I think… I think my water broke.”

“Are you sure?” Declan mum's asks me.

“I… Fuck! That hurts!”

“Mum, we have to take her to the hospital. I also think this is it.”

“Take her to the car, I will go grab everything else.”

“Ok” he nods. “Liv, it's time to go” Declan says.

“I can't.”

“You can't?”

“I'm not ready, Declan. I can't do this.”

“Liv… Liv, look at me” he says, cupping my face and forcing me to look into those blue eyes of his. “You can and you will. You are the strongest woman I know.”

“But it hurts so much already. I can't do this for hours.”

“You can and you will do this” he repeats. “I believe in you. Now let's go” he says before lifting me in his arms and carrying me to the car.

I can do this. I can.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“I can't believe he is real.”

“Neither do I” Declan chuckles. 

I had done it. I had actually managed to do it, and he was here. Our healthy and gorgeous baby boy.

“Who do you think he looks like? My mum says he is just like me, but I don't see it.”

“I think he looks like himself” Declan says, caressing his cheek. He is sitting on the bed with me, one arm around my shoulders while the other rests on mine, both of us holding the baby. “Our nameless little man. Though I've found a name that I think ticks all the things you want and like.”

“Really?”

“Yep” he nods. “I was waiting until he was born to tell you because of what Georgina said, that sometimes babies are born and the name you've chosen for them doesn't fit them. But I don't think that would be the case. I think this name is perfect for him.”

“And are you going to tell me what's that perfect name or…”

“Oliver. Oliver Rice.”

“Oliver…” I repeat, looking at him. At this tiny human being who has completely changed my life and put it upside down. 

“Usually when people find out that they are having a boy they name him after the father, a grandfather, an uncle… But why not after his mum?”

“What?” I say, looking back at Declan.

“I thought of Oliver because I was thinking about you… Olivia” he says, those blue eyes of his that I truly hope the baby also has, meeting mine. “You are one of the most amazing women I've ever met, definitely the bravest and strongest. What you've done today is just another example of it. And I think that one day, when he is old enough to understand it, he will agree with me and say that being named after you is the biggest honour evertouche.”

“Declan…” I whisper, not being able to contain my tears. Again. I've lost count of all the times I've cried since I gave birth.

“Oliver also has a good nickname: Ollie” he says, wiping away some of my tears, the feeling of his hand on my face making me gasp. “I think it is cute and a bit cheeky, which is something I have the feeling he will be” he smiles. “And even though your names may be similar, Liv and Ollie aren't, which means no one will get confused, and that was something very important on your list.”

“The most important one” I chuckle. “Well, that and that it sounded good with your last name. It isn't an usual one.”

“Oh, I know” he laughs. “But Oliver Rice has quite a nice ring to it, don't you think?”

“It does” I smile. 

“And if he was already going to have my last name, it was only fair he was named after you, Liv. It takes two to make a baby, and you've actually been the one who has done all the work.”

“Are we calling him Oliver, then? Ollie?” 

“You have the last word, Liv.”

“Then welcome to the world, little Oliver” I say, kissing his forehead. “And thank you for everything, Declan. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Like I just told you, it takes two to make a baby. I would have never left you alone or on your own, Liv. Never” he says. 

“Thank you” I whisper as I lean forward towards him. Towards his face, his lips. I so want to kiss him.

“Liv…” he whispers back, also moving closer. And then… 

“Liv!” Madders says, walking into the room. 

“Bloody hell” Declan mutters.

“Oh my God, Liv. He is here!”

“Hello, James” I say, trying to smile and forget that he just ruined a perfect moment.

“You are a mum, Liv! And you a dad, Deccers! Can you believe it?”

“Not really” he says, his hand giving my shoulder a little squeeze before he moves from the bed. He hadn't left my side since Oliver was born, and now it feels so weird to not have him next to me… Almost as if something was missing.

“I saw your mum outside and she said that everything went great and that you are feeling good. Or as good as one can be after bringing a child to the world” Madders chuckles. “Can I hold him?” he asks. 

“Yes, of course” I say. 

“Hello there, little man.”

“Careful with…”

“Declan, I'm a father of three. I know what I'm doing. But guys, he is gorgeous. Are you sure he is his?” Madders says, nodding towards Declan with a teasing smile.

“You are so not funny, James” I reply, rolling my eyes.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But he is one of the prettiest babies I've ever seen, and as newborns they all are quite ugly, to be honest. You should see my photos” he chuckles.

“Nothing has changed, then” Declan says, teasing him back.

“Touché” he laughs. “Did you finally pick a name? You can still use James if you can't decide, you know I will be honoured.”

“We actually have. Oliver. Oliver Rice” I say, reaching for Declan's hand. 

“Ollie to friends and family” he says, taking it and interlacing his fingers with mine.

“Ollie… I love it” Madders smiles. “My gorgeous nephew Ollie.”

“And Godson too if you'd like.”

“What?”

“You are my older brother, James.”

“Yes, but… What about Declan's brothers?”

“Oliver is the sixth grandchild in my family. We all already are Godfathers of someone” he shrugs.

“But… are you sure? I mean, what about Micky? Or Mason. Or Sonny! He would make an amazing Godfather too.”

“He would, I agree. But like I said, none of them are my older brother, James. Only you” I smile.

“And Van de Ven actually is an old fling and Mason an old crush, aren't they?” Declan teases me. “That could make things awkward.”

“Oh, shut up!” I say, trying to hit him but only managing to make him laugh.

“Guys, I…” Madders says. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you, James. Neither of us would be here if it wasn't for you. Especially not him.”

“Definitely not him, no” he chuckles. “My beautiful Godson and nephew Oliver. Ollie” he says before kissing his head and starting to tell him about all the things they are going to do together as he grows up while Declan and I just smile at them, our hands still linked together, my head resting on his arm. 

[yoke9494]

Ran, baby fever, and Pixie.

Bonten crack

Pregnancy scare

Ran's a spoiled brat.

Sanzu likes the word coochie.

Rindou is done....

______________________________

Kakucho fiddled with the blue and pink boxes as he waited on the other side of the bathroom door. He wasn't sure why he bought so many? He's never been in this position before but when someone who he considered as his friend asked him to get her a pregnancy test... He panicked and returned with 6 different boxes, all different brands.

"What are you doing?"

Sanzu walked up and peaked at the boxes. "Oh shit! You gonna be a daddy?"

Kakucho shook his head. "No. Its has nothing to do with with me. Its for.. uh." It wasn't really his business to tell? Then again you're always with Sanzu so maybe it's his kid?

Sanzu snickered. "Oh... It's for Ran huh? One of his many one night stands then.. What is this, like his fifth kid?"

".... I really hope it's not Ran's." 

Sanzu opened one of the boxes just to see what these things were all about. Before he could get the wrapper off the stick a yell came from the bathroom.

He knew that scream!

Without thinking Sanzu kicked open the bathroom door and drew his gun.

You both locked eyes and let out synchronized screams. His eyes traveled down to between your legs.

*Gasp!* "Why are you bleeding so much?! Did you push too hard and break your coochie?!"

You gave him a dead panned look. "I started my period, dumbass!"

(Sanzu) "Oh." *Snort* " Good for you?"

"Hell yeah it is! That means I'm not pregnant!"

It finally clicked into Sanzu's dazed brain. "Oh... OH!!! Fuck yes! No baby!"

He held up his hand for a high five. You couldn't leave your man hanging.

After that he giggled and ran out of the bathroom. Probably going off to announce to the whole mansion you weren't knocked up. The person who could have been the father would probably faint with joy... Well if he hasn't drank himself unconscious by now.

Kakucho finally walked in, his eyes shifted away from you sitting on the toilet to the unused pregnancy test on the bathroom sink.

"Sorry for making you go to the pharmacy Kaku. It was just a false alarm."

Kakucho shrugged his shoulders. "S'fine. Better to start keeping these things around for other "guests". Since I'm sure you learned to be more careful now.."

"Oh, totally. I'm going on the damn pill after today..."

"Good..."

"Mhmm.. So, you mind getting out so I can clean up and change?"

"Shit!" Covering his eyes like he wasn't just standing next to you while still on the porcelain thrown. "Sorry!"

He fumbled for the door knob before he closed it shut.

You shook your head and laughed. There was no such thing as privacy around here.

If it was Mikey, Sanzu, Ran, or Takeomi they'd just watch. Mochi wouldn't even bother to be involved. Kokonoi and Kakucho were the only ones who respected your privacy.... Sometimes. 

---------------

On the other side of Bonten's HQ, Sanzu ran into the sitting area to find the Haitani's already there.

"Y/n's not pregnant!"

Sanzu not being able to contain his excitement, started shaking Rindou who grabbed onto Sanzu's shoulders in return and squeezed like he wanted to hurt him..

"Are you sure?! You better not be lying you pink fuck!"

Sanzu shoved the younger Haitani off of himself and drew his gun once again. He was beyond trigger happy today...

"You've been touching my coochie Haitani?"

Rindou slapped the gun away from his temple. "She's not even yours you obsessive fuck. Are you positive she isn't knocked up?!"

Sanzu eyed him for a second. "What's stuck up your ass? And yes, she's having a blood bath on the toilet right now. I thought her pussy fell off."

Sanzu looked around the room. Rindou grabbed a glass from the coffee table and slammed down the rest of the amber liquid. A nearly empty bottle of whiskey sat at the edge.

"Didn't we just buy that shit yesterday?"

"Fuck!"

Sanzu's gaze shot up to Ran. He stood in front of the two with a sad looking face. That's when Sanzu noticed the small outfits he had in each hand.

In the left was a tiny purple dress, complete with a small headband that had a huge flower attached to it. In the right was a brown bear onesie that had a red bowtie connected to the chest.

"You mean... I'm not going to be an uncle?"

Rindou ran his hand down his face. "For the last time.. No. Go dress up your own kids and stop poking holes into my condoms, you sick fuck."

Ran clicked his tongue and slumped down onto the couch. " Your swimmers suck limp dick Rin. And for your information, your nieces and nephews are all already too big to be wearing this cute shit."

He grabbed the clothes and threw them at Sanzu. "Knock her up so I can have a baby." 

Sanzu made a face of disgust. "Like fuck I'm getting my partner in crime knocked up. Do you know how stupid we'd look torturing someone with a brat strapped to our chest? Go make another one somewhere!"

Ran sighed. "I don't want another one of my own. I only like them when they're tiny and babbling nonsense. When I get tired of it I can give it back."

Takeomi walked in and threw his box of condoms at Ran. "What the fucks your problem Ran?! I think I got one of the strippers from last week pregnant!"

"Ooop- I'm out!"

Ran used his daddy long legs and tried to run out the door. Takeomi wasn't having it.

"Get your slim Jim, Pocky stick, stick bug from bugs life lookin ass back here you lanky Slenderman bitch!"

The two passed you and Kakucho in the hallways. Ran gave you a quick glance over his shoulder and flipped you off as he ran from Takeomi.

"I'm disappointed in your ovaries woman!"

You and Kakucho looked at one another. "See, it was his doing! I say we just get him a puppy or something.. That or you let me kill him."

Kaku shook his head. "No to the killing part, Rindou would get depressed and either kill himself or you. I passed by some pet shop a few days ago. They had puppies... Let's go before Ran pulls a Jesus and gets some virgin pregnant."

"Ran's too evil to pull a Jesus. He's going to Criss Angel a bitch pregnant instead."

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The pet shop was small but you could feel the relaxed atmosphere before you and Kakucho even opened the door.

Of course your shopping companion went straight to look at the colorful fishes leaving you waiting by the counter for someone to help you out.

"Sorry to keep you waiting! It's just me today so I apologize ma'am."

The cutest guy you've ever seen walked in from some back office with a few cat food bags stacked in his arms. Black and yellow hair with sandy colored eyes.

' Adorable.. '

He set the bags down and gave you a smile. It was like your brain quit working. 

"Can I help you find something or just looking?"

You wanted to throw some cheesy joke about already finding what you wanted if you could take him home... Damn, you hung out with Ran too much...

' Oh right! Ran's dumbass.. '

"Uh.. actually I'm here to adopt a puppy or cat. Whatever really?"

The guys face lit up. It was their goal after all to find all the animals a forever home.

You learned the guy's name was Kazutora as he introduced you to the many animals up for adoption. Big, small, fuzzy, and scaly. All cute but none of them screamed ✨Ran Haitani ✨.

When Kazutora was in the middle of introducing you to a spotted bunny named Daisy. You had to stop him..

"I'm going to be real with you. The guy I'm buying for... Well I need an animal who will basically be acting as a baby for him. A plus if the animal wouldn't mind being dressed up in cutesy clothing..."

You noticed Kazutora's shoulders kind of dropped. "Oh.. shopping for your boyfriend?"

You had to swallow down the vile that shot up to the back of your throat. "Gross! Fuck that. He's more like an annoying coworker. The guys lonely and gets on all of our nerves so I figured a fur baby would satisfy him."

His light returned! Kazutora thought for a second, he looked unsure... "There is one. She likes to dress up but."

He motioned for you to follow him to the last animal case. It was huge! It took up almost more than half of the shelf's space! Maybe you should just get Ran the bunny?

When he stopped and looked down you had to hold back the dolphin laugh you wanted to spit out when your eyes landed on the animal.

A small tea cup Chihuahua sat on a large doggie bed that was decorated with small pillows that looked like they came from a doll house. It's huge but lazy eyes were glued to a small TV... Yes a TV in the showing case!

"So.. uh. This is Pixie.. She's the only animal we have who likes to dress up."

You couldn't take your eyes off of her and her purple sweater. If this wasn't Ran in mini dog form.

"Kakucho! Get your ass over here and take a look at this!"

Kazutora jumped back at your sudden yell. You looked up at him and apologized but his eyes traveled up to the figure standing in back of you.

"What do you think Kaku? Kazutora here says she likes to dress up."

Kakucho made a weird face that made his nose wrinkle. "We're getting that bastard a rat?"

You snorted while Kazutora gasped.

"She's a tea cup Chihuahua Sir. Her name is Pixie."

Kakucho looked at Kazutora with furrowed brows. "Why Pixie?"

"Uh.. well I wanted to name her Tinker Bell after the fairy from Peter Pan because she likes attention and gives attitude when she doesn't get her way.. but my boss suggested Pixie because she seems to not like the color green."

Kakucho let out a chuckle before looking down at you. You were making faces at the thing while it just looked at you with bored eyes.

'It even looks like him...'

"We'll take her."

Again Kazutora seemed unsure. "Uhm.. Are you sure?" He brought you both over to a dog food aisle. He didn't want Pixie to hear him. "I'm going to warn you two now.. As you can tell she's pretty spoiled and mean." Kazutora lifted up his long sleeve and showed you the many tiny bite marks he had. "This is from when I tried to wake her up from her nap."

You and Kakucho shared a look. You both smiled and spoke at the same time. "She's perfect."

----------------

Rindou clicked his tongue from beside you. He hated this.. Ran had asked you and Rindou to baby sit on your day off. He was on assignment and couldn't take his baby girl with him.(It broke his heart) Rindou tried to get out of it but Mikey roped him back in.. Nobody wanted the responsibility of looking after Ran's pride and joy.

"You know...I really regret not knocking you up now. Pushing around a baby wouldn't be as humiliating as this."

You looked down at Pixie who was having the time of her life being pushed around by Rindou in her doggie stroller. Wearing a bright pink dress with a white flower attached to her collar, along with a small matching sun hat.

In Ran's words. "A classy lady look."

You pulled out one of her treats from her designer brand doggie bag so she could nibble on something. They were stupidly expensive, each treat bag could put food on a struggling families table for a month.

"She's not that bad. At least Ran stopped fucking with everyone's condoms. I was scared I'd have to start hiding my birth control up Sanzu's ass or something."

"Speak for yourself. Look what this rat did!"

Rindou held up his hands. All fingers and thumbs were wrapped in bandage's.

"That's because you're rude to her or Ran."

"It shits in my fucking shoes."

"Pixies craps are no bigger than a mini tootsie roll. And her pee puddles only need one sanitizing wipe. Stop being a bitch."

All the younger Haitani did was roll his eyes and continue to push. Why did you both have to come to the dog park when this rat's feet has never touched grass let alone dirt. He hated this damn dog and he hated you for getting it...

[delicate-luv]

Two Become One ~ Chapter Two

Summary: The morning after a night spent with Eddie, your suspicions begin to rise on who he really is.

CW: 18+, MDNI, one night stands, cheating, mention of miscarriage, mention of pregnancy, home wrecking, minimal use of Y/N, fem!reader,

Masterlist

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You rubbed your eyes that morning, not recognizing where you were. You had a pounding headache and never felt more like a zombie in your life. You let out a loud groan as you flipped onto your other side, making the whole bed shake.

'Shit. I should not have done that.'

You regretted doing that as soon as you heard the man next to you yawn and slowly sit up.

"Woah. Who the fuck are you?" He jumped up, seeing a mysterious woman in his bed.

"I'm y/n. I was at your show last night. You invited me here.”

He put his palms over his face. "Oh, shit."

You could tell he suddenly remembered what happened by the way his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and he sighed. "You should leave. I should have never brought you here."

"Huh?"

"You can't be in here? I have- never mind. Anyway, you have to leave, now." His tone becoming more of an alarmed one.

He jumped up and ran into the kitchen. You chased after him. "What are you talking about? You gave me a cigarette with your number on it." What was so urgent? What is he hiding? Your hangover could wait.

"Wait, what? I only give those out to fans who think they'll have a chance with me. They call me, and I never answer. It's only to instill false hope that I'll sleep with them. I never actually sleep with them!" He became frantic, shoving a pair of black skinny jeans on, whispering yelling "shit!" and "fuck!" amongst mumbling other obscenities that you couldn't quite make out.

"What time is it?" He asked in a panic, slipping on a black tank top.

You looked at a nearby clock on the wall. "Just about 10 a.m."

"Son of a bitch! I have to go. You can find your own way out." He ran out the door, grabbing his keys and wallet.

The fuck was that for?

Before you wanted to even process that fact that you cheated on Ezra last night, you decided to do something even more morally wrong. You snooped around his apartment, trying to find pieces of his life. You needed to know more. He seemed too perfect. Not a single rockstar lives a perfect life and isn't hiding something deep.

The first place you looked was his nightstand. He had guitar pics lined up, a pair of die, some old photographs, a pack of condoms, nothing out of the ordinary. You then walked over to his closet. There was a shoe box filled with things that had 'Otis' written on the front in black sharpie. There was a hand drawn heart that was also on the front.

Your heart was telling you to rip open that box, and dig through the belongings. Your brain was telling you no, to give him privacy. You were always the person who did what your brain wanted, but in this case, you followed your heart.

The first thing you saw was a sonogram picture. You let out a loud gasp and immediately regretted your decision. You closed the box up quickly and ran out of his house. You called Scarlett to pick you up down the road.

You couldn't believe what you had done.

Half of the car ride home was spent with you staring out the window, rethinking the recent events.

"What's so bad? You were gonna cut things off with Ezra soon anyways."

"Scarlett, it's different." You groaned.

"How, exactly?"

"I snooped through his things." You said quietly, full of shame. It was just loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh my god!" She gasped. "You know that's top 10 things not to do during a hookup."

"I couldn't help it. There's just something that I saw in him."

"Yeah yeah, if I got a penny for every time you said that, I'd be rich right now."

"So, do you want to know what I saw?"

"Lay it on me. I don't think this story could get any worse."

"I opened a shoebox that has 'Otis' written on it. I just thought it would be like a box for a dog, because Otis is, like, a dog name. But no, there was a sonogram picture. I didn't take a good look at anything else but I could tell it was bad. There was a lot of light blue, which I'm assuming could be baby clothes, maybe a baby blanket?"

Scarlett slammed on the breaks, "Jesus Christ! y/n l/n is a home wrecker!" She broke out into laughter.

"Scarlett! It's not funny! I think I just had a one night stand with a man with a baby! He could even be married!"

"Was he wearing a ring?"

"He was wearing a lot of rings. I didn't get a good glance at his ring finger." You started to bite your nails anxiously. You knew you had to call the number on the cigarette.

You thought about Eddie and his situation for the remainder of the day. 'Was he married? Was Otis even his baby? Why didn't you see or hear a baby the entire night? Maybe he and his partner had a miscarriage? Is his partner pregnant right now? Why didn't he say something?' The many possibilities roamed your head and kept you up that night. You knew you had to do something to fix this mess you've created.

You were the girl all of the people in your town knew and loved. Your life was always the talk of the town. You had the perfect life, perfect boyfriend, perfect house, perfect friends, perfect clothes, perfect job. Who knew you would be the one to break up a family?

After a week of the thoughts eating you alive, you couldn't take it anymore. You dialed the number on the cigarette, but there was no answer. You knew what was coming, there was no other choice.

You drove over to Eddie's home. You needed answers. Luckily, you could easily find where he lived since it was the only trailer park in town.

When you arrived at his trailer, you slammed the car door shut. Anger fueled your walk to his front door. You were finally going to get the answer you deserved.

You banged on the front door multiple times until a voice could be heard from the inside.

"I'm coming, I'm coming, relax!"

He slightly opened the door, sighing in disappointment when he saw it was you, and slamming it back shut. Before he could get the door all the way closed, you stopped it with your foot.

"Eddie, we need to talk." You opened the door wider to reveal Eddie shirtless, and he was bouncing a 2 year old on his hip. You gasped. "Is this your-"

"Yep. Now what do you want?"

"Are you married? What was that one night stand to you?"

He shrugged. "Well, that one night stand to me, was a one night stand. I don't know what you mean."

"Are you married?"

"Not anymore."

Your mouth fell open. You immediately jumped to conclusions, thinking you were the reason they are no longer married. "Did I possibly...have anything to do with the fact that you are no longer married?"

He quickly denied. "No....I don't get it. Is there something important or...?"

"Why didn't you tell me you had a son?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I had to tell complete strangers about my son." He said in his classic, sarcastic tone.

You were admiring his tattoos and his muscles for so long that you jumped out of the trance when his son started to cry.

"Are we done here? My son is hungry."

"Answer your phone next time and we won't have this problem." You said before letting the door close on him and walking away.