#...i really need to get around to reading house of leaves

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 3

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering.i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.9k

(Extra special shout out to @nitaekook for beta reading and holding my hand through this fic 😂❤️)

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Master List

“Where do you want these plates to go, my dear?” Jade asks from across the kitchen. 

You glance up at her from your spot on the brand new couch that was just delivered to the new apartment that morning. You’re sitting cross legged unpacking a box of the few things that you had brought over from the old apartment. In the kitchen, your best friend Jade (who is also Arthur’s girlfriend of about a year thanks to your meddling) stands holding up one of the new plates that you bought with her yesterday. 

“Wherever there’s room.” You say with a shrug, not really caring where the plates go because everything feels weird.

The apartment is pristine with its gorgeous hardwood flooring that Charles had refinished before you moved in, floor to ceiling windows that face out towards the water, and that new house smell that is totally unfamiliar and a little unnerving. You should be happy, shouldn’t you? Finally being free of the stifling apartment that you had shared with Lando should fill you with so much optimism and a sense of relief, shouldn’t it? But that’s not the case. Not even close. You’re scared and nervous and just the thought of deciding where those plates should go seems like the heaviest question you've ever been asked.

 Simply picking out the plates yesterday with Jade had been an ordeal and you had needed to take several moments to yourself while shopping. You liked your old plates that you had bought with Lando the week you moved in with him but at the same time, the thought of taking those to your new apartment was more painful than leaving them behind.

Jade must notice your anxiety because as soon as she finishes putting the plates and bowls in whatever cabinet that suits her fancy, she comes over to sit next to you on the couch. When she wraps her arm around your shoulders you melt into her in a desperate attempt to stop a fresh flood of tears from falling. It seems as if all you’ve done since leaving the old apartment was cry and if you’re not crying, you’re barely fighting off an incoming panic attack and jumping with every ding of your phone. 

“What’s going on, my love?” Her voice is gentle, like she’s talking to an injured animal that she doesn’t want to spook. It makes you feel pathetic, helpless, and angry for how much Lando has damaged you when he should have been loving you. 

You’ve known Jade for years now and she’s always been one of your closest friends. It was Jade that had been the first of your friend group to pull you aside almost a year ago to ask you if you were truly happy with Lando. She had seen the light dim in your eyes as your relationship with him progressed and watching you lose your spark had scared her. When you had told her the morning after your art show last month that you had finally decided to leave Lando, it had been so hard for her to tamp down her excitement that you had finally worked up the courage to leave him. 

“I should be happy, right?” You ask, voice cracking a bit with the heavy weight of what closing the door on the apartment for the very last time had done to you that morning. “I mean, I know I’ve been miserable for…” You scoff, “a really long time so shouldn’t I feel something other than heartbreakingly sad?” 

Jade tips her head so it rests on your shoulder, a humming sound playing at the back of her throat. “You’ve been with him for a long time, of course you’re going to be heartbroken. Youu’re doing the right thing though, I promise you. He couldn’t even stop playing that stupid video game long enough to support you last month!” 

You nod, memory flickering back to the fight in the hallway in front of Max. You hadn’t heard much from him in the weeks since that night aside from a few texts here and there and you had expected that. He probably was mortified at how you had behaved, embarrassed for you that you had allowed yourself to be treated that way in front him.

You wouldn’t have blamed him if he thought you were a weak little girl who deserved the treatment Lando doled out to you. It was the only way you could rationalize his silence. Seeing how far you’d fallen, how much you’d changed, had obviously had an effect on Max and he had decided he’d seen enough. It didn’t surprise you and you didn’t blame him. Jade was one of your only remaining friends and losing yet another person you trusted and valued in your life was just another thing Lando had taken from you. 

“I’m just so glad you finally are taking your power back, love. I know it feels all wrong right now but when you go from the chaos that you’ve been living in for so long, I’m sure the calm of this apartment feels wrong. You’ll get used to it. It might take some time but you’ll get used to it.” 

Your head swivels around to look your best friend and you search her face for any sign of her lying to you. You desperately want to believe she’s right, that you’re making the right choice. You know you are, deep down in your soul, but you’ve been with Lando for so long and have spent so many nights listening to him rant and rave about how he’s the only one who could ever deal with your dramatics that you wonder if Jade is wrong and Lando is the one who’s been right all along. You don’t voice the doubts though, knowing that those kinds of things are something that you should probably keep to yourself. So instead of voicing all of the fears that are bouncing around in your chest, making it feel heavy and tight with the pressure of doing something that absolutely terrifies you, you just nod and lean further into Jade’s shoulder.

 “I know.” You whisper, staring out over the open living room that is littered with small boxes and suitcases. 

With the help of your brothers and Jade, you had started moving your things out slowly while Lando had been otherwise distracted. Just a small box of clothes and trinkets here and there, over the last month while Charles had the apartment renovated and cleaned. When it was finally ready last week, you had begun looking for furniture and making final plans. 

The timing had worked out perfectly, with the apartment finally being finished perfectly aligning with a weeklong trip Lando had planned to go to Woking to spend time in the sim at the MTC. He rarely bothered you during these working trips, hell he barely bothered you during any of this trips, but his work trips were different, so you knew you’d have a solid week to get everything that mattered to you out of the apartment before he would be any wiser. 

“He’s going to be so mad when he comes home and my things are gone.” You murmur, staring down at your phone which hadn’t received so much as a text message from him in almost 48 hours. 

You hadn’t bothered telling Lando you were leaving, that you were done with him. You shied away form confrontation on even the best of days so telling the man that you’d spent the last three years building a life together that you were leaving him was terrifying. When you had started moving small boxes out while Lando was still in town, you had half expected him to notice but that had never been a problem. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving on several occasions with boxes of your books or suitcases of clothes. 

A larger part of you had another reason for not telling him, though. You knew that if you told him before you were fully moved out he’d try to get you to stay. He’d try to convince you that things would get better, that this time would be different. All the things that he’s said before when you spent the night crying over his neglect. And you knew you’d fall for it. You knew you’d go running back to him if you didn’t get out before he found out. Lando was persistent and an expert manipulator, you knew that and you still fell for it over and over again so this time you were trying to give yourself the chance to put yourself first and not fall back into his trap. 

“He’s going to learn his lesson when he comes home and finds that you’re finally moving on.” Jade says, tone firm but still gentle. She knows what it’s like to be in a relationship like you have with Lando and when you had called her that morning last month to tell her you were finally leaving him, she had decided she was going to make sure she’d do everything in her power to keep you from going back to him. Getting you unpacked and settled in your new apartment was a huge step forward, one Jade hadn’t been sure you would end up following through with. 

You nod, hoping she’s right but you have a feeling deep in your gut that when Lando gets back into town tomorrow morning he’s not going to see it that way. He’s going to be angry and he’s going to try to get you to come back home to him. 

Looking around your new apartment though, you feel something settle in your bones that you haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s a feeling of attachment to this place. Like if you’re careful and thoughtful, this little apartment tucked away in one of the most exclusive buildings in Monaco could be the best opportunity you have for getting your life back on track. You could heal here, you can feel that in the way the sunlight spills through the windows in the living room, in the way your anxiety allows you to breathe when you stand in the kitchen surrounded by things that you bought yourself, and in in the way you feel when you settle yourself on your brand new bed that will have never shared an intimate moment between you and Lando. Those memories have all been left behind and this new apartment seems like the perfect place for a new beginning. 

As Jade comforts you on your couch, your brother is across town arriving at the Monaco Sports Club where he has a game of padel scheduled with Max that afternoon. He had offered to cancel on him this morning when you spoke to him on the phone, saying that your first full day in the apartment was more important than any padel game, but you had insisted that he keep his game. You had wanted a bit of space to breathe from your brothers, who you knew meant very well and you were very grateful for but sometimes, the three men got to be a little suffocating. So, against his better judgement, Charles had skipped coming over that afternoon in favor of hanging out with Max. 

Max hasn’t stopped thinking about that night last month when he witnessed Lando being needlessly cruel to you. He had every intention of calling Charles that night, had every intention of telling him how the British driver was actually treating you but something had stopped him. He had needed a little more time to process everything that he saw. Max knew that Lando could be an asshole but he never could have guessed that he would have treated you the way he did that night he brought you back to the apartment. It had shaken him and it had taken him a bit to figure out exactly how to approach it with Charles because he knew if Charles really knew how Lando had been treating you, Lando might not make it to the next race alive. Because while everyone knew the relationship was toxic and Lando wasn’t a good boyfriend, no one really realized just how bad it had gotten until Max saw behind the curtain that night of the art show. 

When Max had invited Charles to play padel today, he had finally decided to tell him what had gone down that night. It had taken so long because Max kept waffling between ‘this is none of my business’ and ‘she’s everything’ but when he spotted Charles walking through the padel courts towards him, Max was surprised at how happy Charles looked. 

“You look happy.” Max observes before giving his friend a hug. 

“Oh, it is a very good day, mon ami.” Charles is practically glowing as he smiles over at his long time friend. 

Max lifts a brow, it’s been a while since he’s seen Charles look this optimistic and he wonders if it has something to do with you. 

As if Charles reads his mind, he continues, “We finally got the apartment finished and as of this morning, she’s fully left that piece of garbage.” A smug smile plays at the corner of the Ferrari driver’s mouth. 

The relief that washes over Max is surprising. He hadn’t realized how truly worried he was for your well being until that moment. The guilt that sets in though has his chest aching. How could he have gone so long without saying something to someone about what he had seen that night? Max carefully weighs his decision that he had been so set on just moments before. If you’ve already left Lando and are settling into your apartment, does Charles really need to know what happened that night? It would only cause more drama and Max knew that more drama and anxiety was the last thing you needed. 

In a split second decision that he knows could come back to haunt him, Max decides to keep quiet for now. 

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day.” With a genuine grin, Max bounces the padel ball against the floor. 

Charles beams back at him and Max can almost see the stress that his friend has been carrying around recently melting away from his features. He had known that your brother was worried about you, had known your entire circle, or what was left of it, was worried but now that this was really happening, Max could practically feel the relief rolling off of Charles in waves. 

“You’re telling me.” Charles mutters before walking to the other side of the court to get the game started. 

Max hadn’t meant to end up in your old neighborhood, truly he hadn’t. He had been on a run the morning after playing padel for a few hours with Charles when he passed the bakery that was a few blocks from your old apartment. He hadn’t meant to come this far but the pressures of the season were starting to get to him as they usually did around this time of year and he had needed extra time to clear his head. The fact that he couldn’t seem to get you off his mind either plagued him the entire run too. The way you had felt pressed against his side as he walked you home that night last month, the way your cheeks flamed with humiliation as Lando had laid into you in front of him when he walked you to your door, everything about you seemed to be invading his thoughts and it worried him. 

It worried him because he couldn’t let you get under his skin like this. He knew it was a dangerous game he was playing, knowing what you’ve been through and allowing himself to wander down that road. He was just happy you were safe now and hopefully you would start to get that spark back that he knew you still had in you. Everything else would have to wait. 

So when he passed the bakery you had pointed out as your favorite the night he had walked you home, he couldn’t help but follow his feet inside. The smells of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries washed over his senses as the bell above the wooden door jingled, announcing his arrival. He knew exactly what he was looking for before the woman behind the counter even asked and before he was able to second guess his decision, Max was walking out of the bakery moments later with half a dozen of what he knew were your favorite almond croissants. 

A housewarming gift, he told himself. Because what other way should Max welcome his newest neighbor to the building where he had lived for the last two years? He knew these were your favorites and if he had to guess, wandering back into your old neighborhood just for some carbs was probably at the bottom of your ‘to do’ list right now, even if they were heavenly pieces of baked bread and sweet almond filling. 

While Max made his way back across town, laden down with a large pink bakery box, you were just getting out of bed and starting your day. Anxiety, a feeling that seemed to be your constant companion lately, sits heavy on your shoulders as you move around the new apartment. The quiet hush that blankets the small space is different than the stifling silence you're used to in your apartment with Lando. It was unnerving to say the least but if you allowed yourself to pause for even just a moment, you could almost feel your soul breathing a sigh of relief. 

That wash of contentment is short lived though when a knock at your front door sends your heart rate spiking through the roof. You know that Lando was going to be home today but didn't know what time. It didn’t even cross your mind that there was no way it was him outside your door because he simply didn’t know where you had moved to but just the thought of someone who you weren’t expecting waiting for you and the possibility that it could be your now ex-boyfriend had you spiraling.��

Reaching for your phone, you pull up the security system app that Charles had insisted you get installed, despite the fact that this was a very well secured building with its own doorman downstairs 24/7. The person standing outside your door has confusion knitting your brow together. 

Pancake ingredients forgotten, you pad towards the door shuffling through various emotions: relief that it isn’t Lando waiting for you on the other side, apprehension about seeing the person that was patiently waiting in the hallway for you, and a bit of relief that you hadn’t lost this person like you thought you might have. 

“Max, what a pleasant surprise.” You murmur when you swing the door open. 

In front of you, the Dutch driver is dressed for a workout in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, his blond hair covered in a backwards baseball cap. You’re surprised at the shimmer of pleasure that works its way up your spine when he smiles at you but quickly squash the feeling, remembering the pity on his face as Lando had yelled at you that night he walked you home. 

“I was on a run this morning and remembered you saying this bakery was your favorite. I thought I’d bring you some almond croissants as a sort of ‘welcome to the building’ present.” 

Warmth spreads through your belly at the gesture and you hold the door open to welcome Max into the apartment. “Welcome to the building?” You ask, confused. 

Max grins back at you, rubbing at the back of his neck as he follows you to the kitchen. “I live up in the penthouse. I moved in about two years ago.”

Surprise flickers across your face. When you started dating Lando, your friendship with Max had grown distant so it shouldn’t shock you that you didn’t even know where your friend lived. “Oh, I didn’t realize.” You whisper, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. 

Max watches you bustle around the kitchen, decidedly avoiding eye contact with him. For a few moments he just observes you, trying to decide if he should leave or push. Charles had mentioned yesterday that you were nervous about living alone and Max wanted to make sure that you were okay. He knew he should probably leave you alone to continue to settle it, with it being only your second day in the apartment alone, but there was something keeping him rooted to the spot where he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

 “Are the almond ones still your favorite?” He asks, shattering the silence that had settled over the room. He knows you’re easily spooked now and Max desperately wants you to be comfortable about him. Maybe if he distracts you from whatever storm is brewing in your head, you’ll open up a bit. 

His patience is rewarded with the first unguarded smile he’s seen from you in a long time. “I can’t believe you remembered.” You laugh, reaching for one of the croissants in the open box. 

“You used to put these things away like nobody’s business when we were younger.” 

The blush that creeps across your cheeks has Max gripping the edge of the counter. The two of you fall into a comfortable conversation of safe topics, mostly about your new apartment and how Max’s cats are doing. You like this, the way you feel around him but you can almost feel your body bracing for the other shoe to fall. You keep waiting to have something stupid slip out of your mouth, causing Max to berate or make fun of you. 

Much to your surprise it never happens though and you spend the next hour talking through memories of when Charles and Max were fighting it out on the karting tracks when you were younger. Max remembered you well from those days, how you would beg to tag along with him and Charles and the older boys. 

The sun sits high in the sky when your phone start buzzing loudly on the counter. At first you ignore it, too lost in the conversation you and Max are having, the way he is so attentive to everything you have to say and how he asks you questions like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. You don’t want the attention he’s giving you to end but when your phone starts buzzing for the fifth time in a row, you get up off the couch to retrieve it. It was probably just Charles checking on you, you hand’t heard from him all day after all. 

Your heart sinks and your stomach churns when you see the caller ID though. “Fuck.” The whisper that tumbles off of your lips is broken and harsh, causing Max’s head to snap towards where you’re leaning over the counter, forearms braced on either side of your phone. 

“Everything okay?” Max gets up off the couch to join you in the kitchen, concerned over the way you’ve suddenly gone white as a sheet as you stare down at your phone like it’s about to reach up and strangle you right there in the middle of the room. 

In the couple of hours that you had spent catching up with Max, you had completely forgot that Lando was due to get home soon. “I guess Lando has discovered I’m gone.” The way your voice shakes has Max’s heart squeezing. 

“He doesn’t know you moved out?” 

“Well he does now.” You quip, nervous chuckle falling from your lips. The text messages came in first, it looked like. Nearly a dozen of them and as you scroll through the messages, your face heats. Of course this is going to happen with Max here. Why is he always a witness to your humiliation?

Where are you? Why is the closet half empty, where are all your clothes? Baby, why is your treadmill gone? And your Peloton?  Where the FUCK are you??? ANSWER ME NOW WHERE ARE YOU??? DID YOU LEAVE ME THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY YOU’RE DOING THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE NOW COWARD

Shortly after the messages stop, the calls start. You stare down at the phone as Max watches as call after call comes through. 

“You don’t have to answer him.” Max murmurs, coming to stand right next to you. You have to resist the urge to lean into his warmth, to collapse against the quiet strength that rolls off of him in waves.

“It’s only going to get worse if I don’t.” 

“Does he know where you are?” 

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill over. Why was this all happening right now? You knew you were safe, that he had no idea where you had moved to but just the thought of being in the same city as him when he was this angry is enough to have the panic threatening to strangle the breath straight out of your lungs. 

“Then you’re safe. He wouldn’t ever do anything to put his career in danger, Dovie.” 

You have to laugh at the statement because it’s so true. Lando would never do anything to put his career on the line. He’d do whatever it took to keep you in line under his thumb, no matter how mean he had to be to control you but when it came to his career? His first love? He’d never do anything to put his seat in question and you knew that. You had always come second to racing and what Max said was the total truth. 

Max watches you shrink into yourself as the calls continue to come in, one after another, and he knows he has to do something. He glances at the time and instantly gets an idea. “I was supposed to go to dinner with Danny in an hour. What if you leave the phone here for the night and come to dinner with me?” He pauses, seeing the panic flicker across your face. “With us. Come to dinner with us.” He corrects quickly. “I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free too? It’s been a while since we’ve all had dinner together.” 

Your eyes drop down to the phone, now quiet for the moment, and weigh your options. You know you’re not ready to talk to Lando but the fact that you’re ignoring him makes you feel like a coward. You’re going to have to speak to him sometime but maybe it was okay if you put if off for a few more days. Dinner out with Max, Daniel, and your brother sounds so appealing but you still hesitate. 

“Come on, Dovie. You can’t spend the whole night starting at the phone. He’s going to keep calling and it’s not good for you to be alone right now.” 

The pain that slices through your heart at the gentle coaxing Max’s tone takes on is almost unbearable. Why is he always the one to see you laid so bare, so vulnerable? 

“How did I let this happen, Max?” Your voice breaks, soft and uncertain as you turn into Max’s waiting frame. Without hesitation, Max’s arms circle around you and he pulls you deeper into his chest. Something settles in him then, almost like he’s relieved you’ve allowed him in. The way you shake while he holds you has his chest aching and he’d really like to give the McLaren driver a piece of his fucking mind right about then, but he knows that’s going to have to wait for now. You’re much more important. 

“You were in love, schatje and that’s okay. You trusted him and he broke that trust. It’s not a reflection of you, sweet girl, its a reflection of him. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You sob quietly into his chest, soaking his t-shirt through with your tears as the dam finally breaks. Humiliation threatens to drag you under but you allow Max’s words to resonate through you. They soften the sharp edges of your heartache and regret, knowing that someone like Max, who you respect and have known for nearly your entire life, doesn’t think this entire thing is your fault. You sink into his warmth, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, allowing his steady breath to ground you. 

Max just stands there, a quiet pillar of strength that he can feel you desperately need right now. Hr murmurs quiet reassurances to you as you cry against him, slowly rocking you back and forth. “Come on,” Max coos, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Go take a shower and then lets go to dinner. I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free. You haven’t seen Danny in ages, right? It’ll be good to get out.” 

Dragging in a deep breath, you hold the air in your lungs until they pinch. “Okay.” 

With one last look at your phone, you turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving Max starting at your phone which has finally gone quiet. For several moments, Max just stands at the counter in the kitchen, unable to move. Relief floods his veins when he hears the shower start though and he knows that you’re finally making a small step towards getting out from under Lando’s control.

@shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hi! I absolutely love your writing and I've been stalking your page for a while now and I'm really surprised no one requested that one old tik tok trends of S/Os grabbing thier partners feet from under the bed.

PLEASE I NEED TO KNOW THE COD MEN REACTION 😭😭😭😭😭

The way I cackled over this. I love a good prank, especially when there is nothing malicious or nasty behind it. Thank you so much for sending this in!! I had a freaking blast with this. Also, genuinely startled/surprised 141 is just a hilarious concept to me. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, hijinks & shenanigans, pranks, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

It’s unfair to do this to John, but he makes it so easy. He falls for every one of your pranks. Speedwalks right into them.

And this one is no exception.

You’ve smushed yourself underneath the bed. It’s possible you won’t be able to get out. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, you’re about to scare John.

“I’m home,” he calls out.

You remain quiet. Distantly, you hear the front door shut, and John’s heavy footfalls.

“Dove. I’m home.”

Still, you remain silent.

John calls your name this time. You do not respond.

“Cabbage?”

This time, you almost snort. John doesn’t call you cabbage unless he’s being sincere.

John appears in the doorway, pausing just outside. He takes one step, and then another. He’s just out of reach, booted feet near but not close enough.

“Car’s out front.”

Another step.

You grin, and grab at his ankles.

“What in the bloody—”

John stumbles back, nearly trips, and then rights himself. You cackle, and John sighs. Wiggling closer to the edge of the bed, you bring your face into the light.

“Welcome home,” you grin.

John shakes his head. “I’m not helping you get out from under there.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You silently chuckle to yourself, rubbing your hands together like some comic book villain. Johnny is just off the game with Simon, walking around the house looking for you.

“Darling,” he calls out, that Scottish lilt making the pet name even sweeter.

You stay hidden, watching him pass the bedroom not once but twice.

Even from your hiding spot, you can hear him muttering to himself as he searches room to room.

His feet and ankles appear, pausing just inside the doorway before heading straight to the bathroom. He checks there, and then the closet.

As Johnny passes by the bed to leave, you take a swipe at his feet.

“Oi!” he shouts, spinning around.

You wait a beat. He takes a step. Pauses. When he attempts to leave again, you make another pass.

This time Johnny yells, rushing for the door, returning seconds later. Moving to his hands and knees, Johnny looks under the bed—but only at a safe distance.

“You,” he says, smirking. He starts crawling toward you.

“Johnny,” you warn, but it’s too late. He’s reaching under the bed, wrestling you out from under it, peppering you with sloppy kisses that leave smears of salvia behind.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon is fresh up from a nap. He has no idea you’re currently hiding under the bed. But you’ve taken his phone, placed it on the bed as bait, making calls on it to herd him toward your hiding spot.

Simon appears, stopping directly beside the side of the bed. Slowly, you reach out, and then manically flail about, grabbing at his sock-covered feet.

You expect that your actions might surprise him. He might even make a sound, or even swear. What you didn’t expect is to hear your unshakably dreary husband let out a shriek like that of a startled old woman. Pulling your hand back, you cover your mouth, stifling a snort.

“Bloody hell!” he shouts, taking a few steps back.

He pauses a moment, and then gets down onto his knees before flattening himself across the floor.

“Come here,” says Simon, voice eerily calm.

Oh. Oh no.

“I’d rather not,” you reply, knowing that Simon is already brewing up a punishment.

“Come out, love.”

You scoot further away. “Your tone is too neutral, Simon.”

“Everything’s fine.”

“Is it?”

“I’m calm.”

You’re nearly out the other end.

“I’ll chase you,” he smirks.

You make a run for it.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m in here, Kyle,” you call out as you slide yourself beneath the bed.

You wiggle around until you’re hidden, waiting for him to follow your voice. You hear his footfalls before he appears.

“I thought we—” He comes to a stop just inside the door. “Babe?” A pause, and then he says your name. Then, softly, “where are you hiding?”

As he steps into the room, and heads for the bathroom, his feet pass by your hiding spot. This is your only opportunity before he figures out that you’re beneath the bed.

You reach out, just brushing your fingertips against him, then retreat.

“Fucking hell!” he shouts, stumbling backward.

You do it again, and this time he growls your name. Taking a step back, Kyle drops onto his stomach, gaze narrowed as it focuses on you.

“Really?” he asks, deadpan.

“I found it hilarious,” you reply.

Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “Move over.”

“What?”

Shoving himself underneath, Kyle drags himself across the floor until you’re shoulder to shoulder under the bed.

“Bloody filthy down here,” observes Kyle. “Needs a good dusting.” He winks. “Got a spider in your hair, love.”

“I regret this so much,” you whisper.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[imtryingbuck]

Opposite attracts

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: bucky and y/n are completely opposite to each other. (I’m terrible at summaries sorry!)

Word count: 2,842

Warnings: fluff. angst. swearing. Bucky puts himself down. mentions of being sick and being sick on (not detailed). mentions of sex(?)

A/N: absolutely love this request, thank you so much for sending it, I’m so sorry that it took so long🤍

Masterlist

No one really understood why or how the relationship between Bucky and Y/n worked due to them being so different from each other, yet they were so in love with each other. The couple met at university, Sam being the social butterfly that he had introduced them - after they had already met a few weeks earlier.

“Hi, is this seat taken?”

Bucky flinched at the voice, he didn’t mean to, he was to engrossed in the comic book in his hand that he didn’t notice someone approaching him. Looking up, he gulped, shaking his head. “N-no.”

“Thank you.” He truly expected her to take the seat and move it away, not sit there next to him. “I’m Y/n, hi.”

“I know.” He whispered. “B-Bucky.”

He didn’t know why she was introducing herself to him, he knew who she was, everyone did. Y/n L/n was bubbly, talkative, a person who made friends with everyone and anyone, she was popular, and so beautiful - something everyone thought about her, and so did he.

“What are you reading?” She asks, bringing him back to the present.

“J-just a comic.”

“Which one?”

“I- erm, this one.” Showing her the cover.

“Is that the new one?”

“Y-yeah?”

“I’ll have to ring him later and see if he has it.” He gives her a questioning look, which she laughs at. “My brother, he’s a massive fan of comics. Honestly you should see his collection!”

“Oh, right.”

“He’s a bit of a nerd.” She chuckles. “And he absolutely loves gaming.”

“Right.”

“Sorry, you’re trying to read and I keep talking, I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Okay.” He felt guilty about how he reacted, especially when she lowered her head, but he was nervous - sitting there tense as she talked. He didn’t know why she was talking to him or even sitting next to him when there were other available seats.

A couple of weeks later Sam brought Y/n to the house he shared with Bucky and Steve, the group of friends that also included Natasha, Wanda, Clint, Vis and Thor were having a movie marathon and Sam had invited her. When Bucky saw her entering the house he truly didn’t know what to do with himself - especially when she sat in the seat next to where he always sat.

And from that day on, Y/n joined their friendship group. Much to Bucky’s annoyance. It wasn’t because she was rude or mean or even spoke down to him, no, she was sweet and kind, didn’t judge or laugh at him for stuttering and stumbling over his words, she was always interested in everything he had to say. So the reason why he was annoyed about her being around all the time? Well because he had a huge crush on her and that annoyed him.

He knew that she wouldn’t like him, he was completely the opposite of her; he was shy, nerdy, insecure, he was everything she wasn’t.

Bucky’s hands shook as he did up his tie, staring at himself in the mirror whilst Steve poured drinks for them. Sam, Thor, Clint and Vis were finishing off getting dressed, their conversation and laughter fading into the background as he remembered the moment he told her he had feelings for her.

It had been a year since Y/n became an official member of their group, in that year Bucky finally stopped becoming a stuttering mess every time she spoke to him, he grew more confident when he realised that she wasn’t going to judge him or laugh at him for being himself.

It was Wanda’s birthday, the group threw a party for her in the house she shared with Natasha and Y/n - the group watched with much amusement as Bucky came out of his shell the more he continued to drink. “Steve!”

“Yeah?”

“Ha-have you seen Y/n?”

“I saw her going outside ten minutes ago, why?”

“I need to talk to her.” The blond nodded his head as he watched his best friend stumble across the room and out of the house. Bucky found her sitting on the ground, leaning back as she stared up at the stars. “Y/n.”

She would have been startled by the intrusion if he hadn’t made so much noise trying to get out of the door. “Yeah?”

“I- I Bucky Barnes need to tell you something.”

Giggling at his words, she held out her hand to help him sit down next to her. “And what is it you need to tell me?”

“I don’t like you.” He says when he finally gets as comfortable as he can on the hard ground. “Well that’s not true, I do like you. A lot. Like a lot, a lot, you know?”

“I like you too Bucky.”

“No you don’t.” He snaps. “Sorry that was mean.”

“It’s okay, but of course I like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, you're my friend.”

The soft, shy smile on his lips disappeared at her words, of course she only saw him as a friend. “B-but that’s not what I meant.”

“What do you mean?”

“I like you, more than a friend.” Picking at the rim of the plastic cup in his hand, before whispering. “I think I love you.”

Her cheeks instantly went red. Her heart raced as she looked over at him and saw the seriousness on his face. Reaching over to hold his hand, her whole body tingled when he flipped his hand over and their fingers slotted against each other. “I think I love you too.”

“You're lying!” Watching as she shakes her head. “You are! You’re too pretty for someone like me.”

“Firstly, I’m not lying to you and secondly, don’t put yourself down!”

“But you are, you're so pretty and look at me! Fat and ugly and-“

“No!” She shouted, making him jump. “Don’t call yourself names especially when they aren’t true! Please Bucky.”

“Bossy.” He mumbled. “You really like me?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t say I do if I didn’t.”

“Because I’m slightly drunk, can I kiss you?”

“Slightly?” He nodded with a dopey smile. “Okay.”

“Okay, as in I can kiss you or.” She didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence, taking a hold of his face she pressed her lips to his. “Wow.” He whispered after they pulled away for air. “P-please don’t take this wrong but.”

He didn't finish his sentence as he puked up.

When he woke up the next morning, face down on the sofa, his head was pounding and he was convinced the room was spinning. With a groan he managed to sit up, coming face to face with Sam and Steve sitting there with massive grins. “Wh-what happened?”

“Aside from you confessing your love for Y/n, kissing her, then being sick on her, and then passing out. Nothing much.”

The room finally stopped spinning as his heart stopped beating. “I-I-I was sick on her? I told her?” Grabbing a cushion he held it to his face and screamed. “No, no, no I couldn’t! You're lying!”

“We watched-“

“I kissed her? When? How? Oh god!” As he was having a mini panic attack his so called best friends were crying with laughter. “It-it’s not funny!”

“It’s fine, she didn’t seem to mind- well until you were sick on her.”

“I bet she hates me!”

“Who hates you?” His eyes went wide as Y/n came into the living room. “Bucky?”

“I-I- can we talk?”

“Sure.” She glanced over at the guys - who were trying and failing to conceal their amusement. “Boys, fuck off.”

“Yes ma’am.” They said in unison, saluting her which she laughed at.

“Bucky?”

“I am so so sorry, I didn’t mean it or mean to be sick, I-I understand if you never want to speak to me again.”

“Oh.” Twisting the bottom of her shirt in her fingers. “You didn’t- it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! I shouldn’t have told you, I promised myself I wouldn’t do it.” Gripping the cushion for dear life. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Wait, did you mean it? Do you like me?”

“Of course I like you! I told you last night. Please don’t make me feel any more stupid than I already do.”

“And I like you! I meant what I said last night.”

As they waited for the car to come around, Bucky smiled at the memory of their first date.

Two weeks after he drunkenly confessed and made a fool of himself, he asked her out on a date to which she said yes, happily.

He borrowed Steve’s car and drove to her house, clumsily handing her the bouquet of flowers he had gotten her - not mentioning that he had brought way too many, not knowing which one she would have preferred. A meal and cinema, it was simple yet she didn’t show any sign of it being boring.

“So, where are you taking me?” Y/n asked from the passenger seat.

“I tried booking a table at that new restaurant but they didn’t have any seats available, so I thought we could have a picnic instead, if that’s alright?”

“It’s perfect, I’ve always wanted to go on a picnic.”

“Sam helped me.” He admitted with a laugh.

“He’s always helpful.”

As he pulled the car up to the beach, he watched Y/n’s face light up. “I remember you saying that you always love going to the beach, so I thought- is it stupid?”

“It is perfect! This is already the best date ever!” They worked as a team to lay the blanket out on the soft sand, once sat and food was out of the basket, they talked whilst eating. “If you could have any job in the world, what would you choose?”

“I would own a restaurant, what about you?”

“I would have a rescue centre for animals.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I love animals.” She chuckles. “If not that then I would be a veterinarian.”

“Why not be both?”

“Maybe.” She shrugs, finishing her sandwich off before speaking again. “What would you name your restaurant?”

“I don’t know. It wouldn’t happen anyway.”

“You don’t know that.” Shifting herself onto her knees, an idea of a possible name came to her head. “J.B.B Food, or Barnes Restaurant or-or James B Barnes - no not that one, or Food by James?”

He chuckled softly as the possible names of this restaurant that he would never have, kept coming out of her mouth. “You’re thinking of names of something I don’t even have.”

“I’m getting ahead of myself aren’t I? Maybe we could think about the food you’ll cook.”

“Everything.” He winked. “Okay maybe not everything but I would cater to everyone.”

“And obviously I would get food for free.”

“Obviously.”

“Oh I could be your taster! This is going to be amazing!”

He bursts out laughing. “Again, it’s not even going to happen.”

“You need to have faith, if you want it to happen then it will!”

“Alright, what about you? You want to run a rescue centre, what would it be called?”

“Easy. Y/n’s animal rescue centre, it will have places for all animals big and small, people would have to have a background check when they want to adopt because you can’t be too careful, and after two years of opening I would have to open another one because of all the animals I will rescue.”

“You’ve really thought about this?”

“In full detail.”

“I like it.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Then again, it might not happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Well you don’t have faith in your dream, so I might as well not have it in mine.”

“But yours is more realistic.”

“But so is owning a restaurant, if you put your mind to it, it will succeed. Five years after opening your first one you’ll be onto opening your fourth or even fifth!”

“One a year? You're killing me!”

“No, I’m making you rich! And me fat from all the taste testing I’ll be doing.” She giggles. “One day we’ll have our dream jobs.”

“One day.” He whispered, watching as she continued to eat.

They never made it to the cinema as they spent hours on the beach building sandcastles - which Y/n got a stranger to vote which one was the best - and having a splash around in the water, he found it amusing that she was creating sand-angels, they shared many kisses whilst they were there too.

When Bucky dropped Y/n off that night, they shared another kiss before she asked him something that caused him to choke on air. “Do- would you like to come in?”

“For?”

“What do you think?” Her eyes went wide as he started choking. “Shit, are you alright?”

“Fine, I’m fine. I-erm I- I’m still- you know?”

“Wh- oh. Oh that’s okay, I don’t want to pressure- or think that you want to- you know with me- no pressure or-“

“I want too!” He blurts out cutting off her rambling. “I’m just nervous.”

“That’s okay. Everyone gets nervous, we don’t have to do it tonight.”

“I do- I want to, tonight I mean- if you're okay with it?”

After fifteen minutes of convincing Bucky that she wasn't going to judge him or his body, he finally took his clothes off - cheeks going bright red as her eyes scanned up and down his body with nothing but admiration and lust in her eyes.

They both laid there panting for breath as the scent of sex and sweat was heavy in the air. “You- you said that you was a virgin.”

“I am- was, why? Was I bad? Oh god!”

“The opposite.” She giggled. “You was great, I promise.”

“T-thanks, I guess.” He laughs, wrapping his arm around her - smiling as she shuffles closer to him. “You were amazing by the way.”

The car passed by his restaurant, yes his restaurant, four years after graduating from university Y/n all but knocked down the door to their shared apartment.

“I’ve found it! Bucky!”

Coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, he frowned at her words. “What are you talking about?”

“A building, I- fuck I ran all the way up here, I found the building.”

“Okay?” He says slowly, walking into the kitchen to fill a glass up with water to hand it to her. “You found a building?”

“Yes, but not any building, no, no I found thee building!” Gulping down the water way too fast she ignored the slight ache in her chest. “For your restaurant.”

“What? Where?”

“It’s- get dressed and we can go now, hurry.”

Y/n went halves with him on the building - much to his dismay. It was run down and needed a lot of work which the group were more than happy to help with, a year later Barnes Restaurant was opening its doors. Two years after that he was opening up another one, with one being done up.

As he sat in the back with the guys, the car went by Y/n’s Animal Rescue Centre.

“It’s happening! Bucky it’s happening!” She screamed down the phone, deafening him, before bursting through the large doors of the restaurant. “It’s happening!” She sang loudly, startling the customers.

“What’s going on?” He asked coming to the counter, laughing as he says. “Calm down your scaring off my customers.”

“The woman got back to me, it’s-guess what- it’s happening!” The customers who were enjoying their meal laughed along with Bucky as Y/n starts to do a dance. “They accepted my bid! I am now the proud owner of the land!”

Bucky ran around the counter and picked her up and spun her around. “I’m so proud of you baby, so proud!”

Everyone cheered, even though they didn’t really know what was happening.

Just over a year later the rescue centre was up and running. Six months after the doors opened, Y/n came home with a white fluffy kitten. “Don’t be mad… but, look.”

“It’s- baby, we talked about this.”

“I know, I know but look at her.” Practically shoving the kitten into his face. “She’s so cute.”

“She is, yes.” He couldn’t disagree with her, but they talked about her not bringing animals home with her, she had brought two dogs home once which they gave to Steve. “I don’t think-“

“I’ve already thought about that, whenever the landlord comes we’ll just hide her, simple. Please Buck, please.”

He was never able to say no to her, especially not when she was pouting and giving him her best puppy eyes. “Fine but if we get caught out, I’m blaming you.”

It was a lie and they both knew it. “That’s fine. What should we name her?”

Nearly an hour it took them to settle on a name. Alpine.

Bucky stood at the end of the aisle watching with a bated breath, tears burning his vision as the love of his life walked towards him.

They were completely opposite to each other, yet their love was just the same.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[snuffysnuffles]

ELTINGVILLE FAMILY POST (PART 1)

Hi, sorry for not posting in a while, but I’ve been working on this! This was originally for an ask but since the ask was deleted or the persons account was deleted, I’m stuck with just posting it w out the original asker.

But the original ask was: “can we see how the families live their everyday lives? Like as a mini-comic or something”

So I did exactly that. Enjoy reading (and looking at the art)

Morning

- 5:00 AM:

Tony, Reggie, Carlo, Louie, and their dad wake up early for work.

- Tony and Reggie carpool in Tony’s car to the construction site where they work alongside their father.

- Carlo heads out to his butcher job, and Louie goes to the library where he works.

- Breakfast is skipped or grabbed on the go since their mom doesn’t cook for them.

- 6:30 AM:

Pete’s mom gets up to make breakfast, but it’s only for Pete and Olivia since the rest of the family is already gone.

- Pete’s mom is a terrible cook, often dropping random things into the food and dismissing it. (Cigarettes, too much seasoning, whatever.)

- Olivia has no choice but to eat whatever their mom makes, but Pete avoids it entirely. He either pretends he’s not hungry or sneaks something else to eat.

- 7:30-8:00 AM:

Pete wakes up later since he doesn’t have a job yet.

- After breakfast, Pete either heads to school or hangs out with the Eltingville Club.

- Olivia (if it’s a school day) leaves for school too, but if it’s the weekend or a day off, she’s left unsupervised to run around the house or entertain herself.

Midday

- 12:00 PM:

Pete’s mom spends most of her day on the phone with her friends. She doesn’t cook lunch, leaving Pete and Olivia to fend for themselves if they’re home.

- But Pete is usually out by now, so Olivia is left to her own devices, wandering the house or playing with her toys, or doing something extremely dangerous. No one really keeps an eye on her.

Evening

- 5:00-6:00 PM:

The brothers and their dad finish their shifts.

- Tony, Reggie, and their dad come home from the construction site. Tony and Reggie usually bring takeout or groceries since their mom doesn’t cook dinner.

- Carlo finishes up at the butcher shop and meets up with Louie after his library shift. They’ll grab food together and either bring it home or eat out.

- 6:30 PM:

Everyone returns home to unwind:

- Tony is exhausted and crashes on the couch or in his room. (But sometimes he eats with his brothers, or calls Leah for a bit. Aka his girlfriend.)

- Reggie and Louie inevitably start bickering over something stupid, escalating into shouting or physical fights. Or they mellow out together and just hangout for a bit.

- Carlo mostly spectates, occasionally throwing in useless fucking comments that pisses them off more. (FUCK YOU CARLO)

- Olivia is still running around, largely ignored by everyone except Tony, who might check on her briefly.

Night

- 8:30-9:00 PM:

After eating and arguing, the brothers all scatter to their rooms to wind down:

- Tony stays quiet, too tired to deal with anything he just goes to sleep.

- Louie starts night-reading.

- Reggie sneaks out later to hang out with friends, despite being old enough to not need to sneak.

- Carlo relaxes, indifferent to everyone else’s antics.

- 9:30 PM:

Pete comes home late, purposefully avoiding his brothers and father to stay out of trouble.

- Olivia, feeling lonely, tries to talk to Pete, but he always brushes her off, leaving her disappointed and alone.

- 10:00 PM:

Olivia plays quietly with her toys in her room, trying to entertain herself until she gets sleepy.

- The house finally calms down as everyone begins to fall asleep. (Reggie sneaks back in around 3 AM.)

REMEMBER TO READ PART 2!! POSTING IT SHORTLY

[lexirosewrites]

Hiii I don’t usually go here, but I have had a few Disjointed Thoughts(™) for like WEEKS and I finally decided to share on this, the most holy (hole-y, hah) of days, Slick Sunday.

SO. O!Steve, A!Eddie, shocking. Steve is excruciatingly aware that, physically? He’s not really the Ideal Omega, at least by societal standards. Or his parents’ standards. Or his own, if he lets himself think about it too much, but that’s why he simply Does Not Think About It. Emotionally, he’s pretty solid. He absolutely loves his forcibly-adopted, feral, teenage pups. He’s excited to have his own one day, and to have an Alpha who loves him and their pups. He is always taking care of somebody, particularly the people he cares about, and most of the time it’s not even a conscious choice.

Physically, though?

Physically, he’s taller than an omega usually is. He spent so much time doing sports before he presented, and then after to keep up the image. Plus, let's be honest, he's absolutely keeping himself in shape and strong enough to defend/protect his little chosen pack. No matter how he or other people might feel about it, nothing is as important as keeping everyone safe, even after the UD is taken care of.

He and Eddie have been getting close, though. Eddie made enough anti-secondary-gender-roles speeches in school that Steve's pretty sure he won't mind that Steve is more invested in keeping them all safe than playing the part of “good little omega.” He was certainly impressed when Steve had to bite a bat in the Upside Down, and that's not very Omegan. The problem is, Eddie is such a perfect Alpha. Robin always makes a face when he says it, but Steve can feel it in his soul. Eddie is loud, exuberant, fiercely loyal, and protective of anyone who might need it, particularly when he cares about them. He's good with his hands, between his guitars and tinkering with his van when it has a new issue every month. He bickers with Wayne constantly over bills, trying to get his uncle to let him help more, leaving stray bills in Wayne's pockets when he loses the argument.

If Eddie can be such a good Alpha, Steve can try and be a better Omega, just a little. He does tone his more Alpha-like tendencies down a little, just to be safe- doesn't bring up playing sports/working out as much when Eddie's around, asks Eddie to help move things instead of just doing it himself, lets other people grab stuff from high shelves rather than volunteering himself. It seems to be going well, all things considered. He and A!Robin (who knows about the Omega-image issues, but not that he's been playing a bit more of the helpless Omega for Eddie, because she absolutely wouldn't approve) are sure Eddie's going to ask him to start courting any day now, really!!

To hopefully kick-start the process, Steve eagerly volunteers to help Wayne with some manual labor. Something with the siding of the trailer; it won’t be difficult, but it'll be a lot easier with two people. He'd have helped anyway, of course, but he's very aware that Eddie is devoted to his uncle and wants him taken care of. Surely, if there's anything that would outweigh any distaste from the non-Omega-like behavior, it's helping Wayne. The day of, though, he's on a ladder (Wayne is holding the ladder steady; Steve threw a hissy fit when he tried to go up himself), hammering in the last couple nails when Eddie gets home.

Normally, Eddie seems ecstatic to see Steve in any scenario- at one of their houses, after Hellfire to take the kids home, the few times they've passed each other in the grocery store- but when Steve looks over to say hi, he doesn't look… pleased. He actually looks kind of. Angry? Maybe? His eyes are blank, not filled with the warmth he's used to. His mouth is pressed together in a thin line, jaw clenched.

Steve has gotten pretty good at reading Eddie, knows his facial expressions like the back of his hand, but this is new. New and not happy. It makes him self-conscious, make him want to jump off the ladder and go beg forgiveness from his Alpha for whatever he did, but Steve pushes it down. He's got a job to finish, and if that face is directed at him for too long there's a good chance he's going to start whining- or worse, crying. Eddie gets back in his van immediately, though, driving off who knows where. Steve tells himself he was probably just having a bad day, and didn't want company. That's just a thing that happens. Nothing immediately to do with Steve, surely, and Wayne doesn't seem bothered so it's fine. Definitely.

A few days pass, and the party are all at Steve's house. The pups (who are nearly grown, now, but that doesn't stop them from being Steve's Pups, okay?) are mostly in the pool. The technically-adults are enjoying the sun and calling out warnings when the play-fighting gets a little too rough. Steve and Lucas are practicing basketball a few feet away, trying to nail a particular, super impressive move that even Steve can only do with about 40% accuracy. (I don't know basketball, I'm sure something like this has to exist though, right??? Indulge me lol) The two of them have been at it all summer, to better Lucas’ chance of getting varsity next school year.

Then Lucas nails it. Absolutely picture-perfect form, better than even Steve has ever done it. And they go NUTS. Everyone is looking over, confused but generally amused at their antics. Steve is so proud that he doesn't even think about it, just lifts Lucas up so he's sitting on one of Steve's shoulders, so Steve can hold him up with one arm and gesture wildly with the other while parading Lucas around, explaining exactly why this is so impressive to the non-athletes.

Except. Then he happens to look over at Eddie. And it's the face from the other day. Closer now, he can see that Eddie's knuckles are white where they're clenched around his beer bottle. Steve still can't get a read on it, and Eddie hasn't been in the pool yet so the scent blocker is keeping Steve from being able to tell what's the matter. Again, Steve's first instinct is to figure out what he did, how he can be better. But this is Eddie. He's probably just bitter about a sports thing interrupting whatever nerd conversation he was probably having, and he'll get over it quickly. Besides, Lucas deserves his moment.

Eddie is fine the rest of the night, and it doesn't come up, so Steve manages to mostly forget about it. But a week or two later, Steve is dropping Max off at home after physical therapy, and she's clearly too tired and exhausted for the stairs but she'll never admit it. Steve moves slowly, telegraphing his intentions as obviously as he can to give her an out, but she doesn't take it. So he picks her up, gently as possible, and carries her up the steps, grabbing her crutches as well.

He doesn't push it, even if his Omega would be thrilled to bring her in and make sure she gets settled and drinks some water, because it'd make her uncomfortable and this is already a lot. They don't talk about it, they just say their goodbyes and Steve goes to drive home. He glances over at the Munson's trailer, purely out of habit, and in the window is Eddie. With the same facial expression as before. He turns away from the window before Steve can react, and the curtain is pulled.

Steve has the whole way home to question this, and the only similarity between the two events that could have caused that face is… Steve being too Alpha-like. The manual labor, carrying the pups around. He's too strong, too big. He's not a good Omega, and his Alph- Eddie, who isn't his Alpha yet and maybe now never will be- Eddie doesn't like it. He drops. Hard. He's not sure how he makes it back to his house, or inside. The next thing he knows, he's sitting next to the phone, Robin's voice coming distant but frantic from where it's dangling by the cord next to him.

Then she's there, in front of him. Worried, clearly, but Steve can't bring himself to do anything about it. He just stares. Time passes, clearly, because at some point he finds himself in his own bed, nest haphazarly built up around him where someone presumably tried to make it bigger without disturbing anything, staring blankly at the ceiling with Robin pressed against him.

His face is wet.

His eyes hurt.

Oh. He's been crying.

He remembers why.

His breath catches, and it's enough to get Robin's attention. She scrambles up, holding his face while she takes exaggerated breaths. He matches her breathing until he's sure they're past the risk of hyperventilating. He tells her everything- not just the times Eddie has seemed upset, but every time he's tried to be better, to be less, every time he's questioned if it would ever be enough. She clearly wants to comment, but she lets him get it all out first. When it's clear he's done, she bundles him in her arms. Calls him a dingus, so he'll crack a smile. They slowly transfer back down the stairs, curling up in a mass of limbs in front of the tv to watch whatever they can find without getting up.

Steve drives her home around midnight, knowing she has work tomorrow and he's got the day off. He swears he's fine, that he'll call if something changes. He waves her off, drives away, and heads in the opposite direction of home. He's okay for now, but if he goes home, he'll think about how empty it is, how he may never have an Alpha to help him fill the space and the quiet, and he won't be okay for long.

He ends up at the quarry. Still quiet, and he's still alone, but at least it's intentional here. He's not exactly watching the clock, but he's only idly thrown a handful of rocks down into the water when he hears a noise he could pick out anywhere. Eddie's van is pulling up, faster even than the ridiculous speeds he usually does. The gravel flies up as he slams on breaks, and the headlights are still fading out when Eddie throws himself out the door.

He hurries towards Steve, and when he's close enough, he drops to his knees. Steve tries to ask, tries to pull him up because that can't be good for Eddie's knees, especially when he's clearly in his pajamas and some untied shoes but Eddie grabs his hand and holds it in both of his own. Trips over his words as he tries to explain, rambles that Robin had called him after she got home, that Eddie had immediately run out the door, went to the house first and then drove around to find Steve.

Steve can feel the shame heating his cheeks, prickling in his gut. He's already mentally cursing Robin's overprotective nature. Of course she'd immediately tried to defend him. She'd probably told Eddie off, something embarrassing about leading him on or believing too much in gender roles despite his own nonconformity or whatever else. Steve tries to pull his hand away, but Eddie's got a firm grip and pleading eyes, and Steve's Omega is too desperate for some approval after his drop earlier to try too hard.

Eddie looks like he's tearing up, and Steve is too caught off guard by this whole thing to hold back the whine it pulls out of him. Even if he's hurt, seeing Eddie upset almost hurts his Omega more than anything else. Eddie's eyes go wide, and he surges to his feet, pressing Steve's hand to his chest and letting a reassuring rumble answer. Steve hates himself a little bit for how much it does calm him down.

Eddie rushes to explain. He's in love with Steve. He thinks Steve's easily the best Omega he's ever met, loves how much he cares for the people around him and protects their pups (Steve tries valiantly to ignore how his heart skips a beat at it being THEIR pups. He fails). The face Steve has been seeing has been Eddie straining to keep his Alpha from begging to bond with Steve on sight. Eddie wanted to court him, wanted to take it slow and romance him and do things properly because Steve deserves it, not ask Steve to have his babies in front of all their friends.

He's been waiting to ask, has been making Steve his own battle jacket since he'd liked Eddie's in the Upside Down as a first courting gift. Apparently, tracking down patches for artists Steve likes is a lot harder than finding patches for Eddie's favorites, and hand-sewing them all on has taken even longer. It's everything Steve could have ever hoped to want and so much more, and Eddie's not wearing any scent blockers, so underneath the heady smell of leather and comfort and Eddie, Steve can tell he's being honest.

The misunderstandings are forgiven. They start courting immediately, and Eddie gives him his own vest to wear as an IOU until Steve's is done. Robin is very mildly scolded for spilling Steve's business, which is cancelled out by the grin on Steve's face as he does it and the hug she tackles him in immediately after says she doesn't regret a thing. It's okay, though. Neither does Steve.

-irrelevantbutembarrassing

chomping on insecure omega Steve because he’s so biteable💕

[ldydeath]

But I Love You | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: Jiyong is struggling through his hiatus and misses his best friend. You try your best to be there for him, even when it feels like he doesn’t want you around.

Warnings: slight angst, a lot of GD yearning for TOP. Very minor language.

Things hadn’t exactly been easy since Jiyong had decided to take a hiatus. You weren’t really sure if he even knew what a hiatus was. Everyday you’d wake to find him in the studio, writing new material, a stressed look on his face. You’d hoped that a break would’ve actually been just that - but the man didn’t know how to quit. You’d pull him out every night when you could tell he was getting frustrated hoping the next day would be better.

You’d have secret conversations with Youngbae and Daesung whenever you got too worried, knowing deep down that the only person he’d reason with had shut him out. Morning came quickly and you were awoken to Jiyong emerging from his blanket cocoon. “Jiyong, why don’t we just take a rest today?” You tried your best to make your voice sound normal, not a hint of pleading in there but he picked up on it and sighed.

“I can’t today. I really have to finish this song.” He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and you took the opportunity to really look at him. The dark circles you thought you’d imagined were real. His skin seemed pale, he looked worn out. “Maybe we can do something tomorrow.” He got out of bed, offered you a smile and headed out of the room.

You couldn’t help the pang of disappointment you felt as he disappeared from the room. You knew Jiyong loved you, of course he did, but you couldn’t help but feel forgotten. You never wanted to come between him and his work, you knew how he got when he felt like he was up against a wall. But something needed to change.

With a heavy sigh, you got out of bed, made yourself presentable and headed out of the house. You unfortunately couldn’t sit around waiting for him today. Work called and even if you’d been willing to call in earlier, that had changed the second Jiyong walked out of the bedroom. You knew you should stay home, save him from himself but you needed a break too. Maybe a without you hovering would help.

When you pulled into the drive that evening everything felt off. The lights were off, the lights were never off - unless you were sleeping. “Jiyong?” You called as you entered the house, closing the front door with a soft thud. You were greeted with silence and the soft meow of your cars. You weren’t going to worry. You weren’t worried. You kept telling yourself that as you wandered the house in search of him. Where the fuck was he?

You paused outside the door to his studio, you’d never gone in there before. Not that you couldn’t, it just was so very him that you didn’t want to disturb his sanctuary. You pressed your ear up to the door but it was useless, the room was so soundproofed you couldn’t hear a thing..

The site that unfolded in front of you hadn’t been what you’d expected. There on the couch in the sound booth was your boyfriend passed out clutching what appeared to be lyrics. So that was why the house was dark, he hadn’t bothered to leave the studio once. You moved the papers out of his hands, careful not to read any of his work and shook him awake.

“Hey” he smiled as his eyes locked with yours. “What are you doing in here?” You moved to sit down next to him and shrugged. “The house was dark. I didn’t know where you were.” He scooted slowly, to sit next to you.

“I’m sorry I worried you, I must’ve passed out. I’ve not been sleeping well.” He admitted. Your head snapped looking over at him, worry etched in your brows. “See, that look right there is why I didn’t tell you. You don’t need to worry about me.” You frowned, reaching a hand out to touch him. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you?” You should’ve asked sooner, but you’d been hoping you were over reacting.

He let out a sigh, shaking his head as he broke eye contact with you. “I keep thinking if I write the right song, the best song, he’ll read it and come back.” You could hear the pain in his voice, and it made you want to protect him from ever feeling this way again. His best friend was doing what he thought was best for everyone - which couldn’t be further from the truth. “I don’t think it’s that simple, oppa.” Seunghyun had been your friend too and you weren’t blind to the void that he left behind. “Seunghyun needs time to heal, he didn’t leave because he wanted to. He left because he felt he had to.” You eyed the sheet holding the lyrics Jiyong has been working on. “Can I read it?”

He nodded and handed the lyrics over. Any other girl might be jealous of such heartfelt feelings being written about someone else but not you. You understand their relationship, he’d come first. They’re more than best friends, they were family and both of them were hurting. “It’s perfect.”

“You’re biased” he smirked, taking the paper back and tucking it into his pocket. “Maybe, but it’s still perfect. You should record it.” He shook his head. “It’s not Bigbang without him.” You offered up a reassuring smile, a playful glint in your eye, “so make it GD.” You hardly ever referred to him as his stage name and he smiled before hiding his face with his hands. There he was. That shy adorable guy you loved so much.

“Maybe.” He yawned, stretching his arms before standing up. “Thank you for this. I should’ve told you sooner.” You shook your head. “Don’t worry about it. Just know you’re not alone, ok?”

He nodded. reaching his arm out to you, helping you to your feet. “I’m sorry if I’ve been acting not myself lately, I just don’t know how to let people in fully. I get in my head and think I have to do it all alone.” He apologized as he led you both out of the studio. Turning on the lights as he went.

“You’re not alone. I’m always going to be here for you. Even if you don’t want to talk about whatever’s going on, I’m still here.” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, wishing you could take all his pain away. He pulled you toward him, a small smile on his face. Not his big grin you’d grown to love over the years but it was a start. “I love you. He mumbled before pulling you in for a kiss. “I love you too” you smiled against his lips.

Tag List: @wcnderlnds, @alosss-blog please let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[cupidkenji]

Gnaw

Now Playing: Gnaw - Alex G everything I knew was looking just as it should Pairing: Nam gyu (player 124) x AFAB!reader CW: smut, oral (r receiving), choking but not in a freaky way he literally chokes reader to get them unconscious (no somno), kidnapping kind of (he takes them back to their house), knifeplay 💀, restraints being used (reader's wrists are tied), noncon technically but again mentally reader is into it, toxic ex bf, he's really whipped tho, minor bloodplay, undertones of sadism, lokey father figure vibes from Nam gyu (i'm so sorry), probably kind of OOC, university AU Summary: After that night, you ran. You should know by now you can never get far from him. Disclaimer: Reader is always thought of to be chubby/bigger when writing but I do my best to not physically describe reader at all with stuff like skin tone or body type. Anyone can read this as reader is not depicted but if there's a slip up please let me know. <3 WC: 3.7k (again) this is a part 2! read part 1 here.

the worms are eating away at my brain i am going crazy. please for this story just imagine you have one of those bed frames that are individual bars w space in between them instead of like one solid thing. also i really need to start writing these earlier in the day so i have the energy to proof read them. i'm sorry for my sins have mercy on me.

The sunlight seared through a pair of shitty motel curtains, attempting to penetrate your shut eyelids. It was the sixth day you were waking up in a scratchy bed on the run down side of your already dirty town. It was the sixth day you would spend missing him. 

You knew it was wrong, immoral to even think of returning to the man who had done such a thing. Who was clearly at a place in his life where he could do such a thing. Even through all the intellectualizing of his actions, the pleading you did with yourself to be disgusted, you weren’t. You knew it the second he cleaned you up and went to sleep, and it was terrifying, so you ran. As soon as you were sober, you ran to the only sanctuary you could afford as a college student who was also renting an apartment and a vehicle. You had already overstayed your welcome, knowing that the six days would cost you more than you wanted to shell out. You didn’t know how long you planned to be gone, originally fleeing the scene to be able to think. It was only proving more difficult as the days ticked on. You’d come all the way out here to talk yourself into hating him, only to carve out an even bigger space within yourself that he was to occupy. You missed him. The more you thought about it, the more apparent it became, and that just pushed you to stay longer. To wait out the bruising feeling eating at you the more you forced yourself away. 

You skipped class, not daring to step foot on campus lest he be waiting for her. The thought made your head fizz, a horrified and excited feeling mingling as they wrapped around the nerves in your stomach. Just the possibility of seeing him overwhelmed you, but you were simultaneously sick from the distance. You were sick of your surroundings, too. The walls were gray and stained, and you feared the hygiene status of the bed you were sleeping in. You hadn’t had much time to pack when you’d left, grabbing miscellaneous clothing that had yet to be put away and shoving it in a backpack. You hadn’t brought a blanket or a pillow, something you regretted. The suffocating nature of the beige room prompted the nightly walks you’d been taking. It was a bearable temperature, and the full perimeter of the building provided a decent amount of ground to cover. You hadn’t grabbed a charger, leaving your phone dead and you bored. Without any artificial stimulation to occupy your head, you took notice of the normally unnoticeable aspects of such a place. There were bits of a wired fence on the right side of the parking lot, the few lamps that lit the outside up had security cameras on them that didn’t work. You couldn't sleep one night, so you’d gone to look at them, finding that when the cords reached the end of the pole, they’d been haphazardly cut. It looked rushed and frayed, like a child had done it with safety scissors. It was deceiving, truly. There was no safety in an already dim parking lot. 

On tonight’s walk, you mulled over the date you’d return by. You still needed to graduate, and realistically, you couldn’t avoid your life forever. You were getting progressively more tired, sleeping less each night you stayed, missing the comfort of your own bed. The ground was uneven and cracked under your shoes, reminding you of the gray, crumbling building you were supposed to retrieve your roommate from. Reminding you of him, how stupid all of this was. There was a familiar smell in the air as you rounded a corner, nearly back to your room. It was distinct, heady and musky, as if you were back on that street and looking up at the flowing smoke again. You did your usual observation of the desolate asphalt full of empty parking spots.

And what the fuck were the odds?

He was already looking at you, the end of his cigarette glowing orange as he took a drag, like a sniper taking aim. He was a mere silhouette being poorly lit up by a streetlight that barely worked, but you knew. It was this feeling of magnetism, the same way he knew exactly who he was looking at, you felt the world around you melt, the air around you became irrelevant as your eyes locked on him. There was another man there, leaning against the hood of his car with Nam gyu right next to him, taking no notice of you as he spoke. You couldn’t make out his words with how far away you were. The man you’d been avoiding making little sounds of acknowledgement while being completely trained on you, posture relaxed and comfortable. He found you.

His friend nudged him, mumbling something and standing up. The both of them walked back into what was presumably the man’s room after snuffing out what they were smoking. You didn’t even register your legs beelining for your room. You threw whatever you had into the backpack you’d brought. You needed to get the fuck out of here. It was an unfathomable cruel move from whatever higher power was in charge of this situation. The two of you were being forced together like sand and water. He was everywhere, no matter where you were he would inevitably catch up. Maybe it took him three months the first time, but clearly he was done waiting. You rushed the check out process, not knowing how long his friend would keep him occupied now that he knew you were here. Maybe he wouldn’t even care. The thought made your stomach twist, but still, you needed to go. Your car seemed like an endless walk from the front doors, parked in the corner closest to your room, dark and unsuspecting. In such an empty place, you didn’t want your car to sit illuminated, as if advertised. This motel had a reputation, and you wanted to keep your means of travel safe. 

Your hands shook slightly as you hit the unlock button on your keys, yanking the handle to the backseat and throwing your bag somewhere in the back. It was just clothes, you didn’t care if it rolled around or hit the floor during the commute to wherever you were going, you just cared about getting out. The slam of the back door shutting seemed louder than what was appropriate for such a bone-deep silence for this time of night. Opening the driver’s side, you barely had enough room to squeeze through before it was being shoved closed from behind you. On impulse, you tried to turn around, startled and drowning in adrenaline; but before you could, the crook of his right arm encompassed your neck, tightening like a snake who was readying the prey for consumption. Your hands shot up, grasping his forearm with a futile grip, as if you could will his arm away from you. The pressure on your windpipe was bleeding black into the edges of your sight, static mingling with your hearing as your head got lighter. You could hear quiet shushes and reassurances coming from the man behind you, as though talking a child back into sleep after a nightmare. You dug your nails into the fabric of his sweatshirt as a weak sob barreled out of your mouth. He only pushed a little harder, pulling you into him. The proximity comforted you despite his actions, and you used the last little bit of energy you had to condemn yourself, body going limp against him after the last internal inquiry of what the fuck was wrong with you. He had also noticed the camera situation, knowing that his actions would go undocumented in the empty little place. He walked you over the passenger seat, hauling you in and buckling you up like a kid in a car seat. He started the route to your house, it was a Friday, your roommate would surely be out. He knew she was barely ever at the house, after staying there on and off for two years, he thinks he could probably count how many times he saw her sleep there on one hand. It wasn’t a long drive, twenty minutes or so, and you’d be home.

–

The normally disarming lamplight of your bedroom reeled in your consciousness from the void it had been thrown to. It didn’t feel particularly calming - not now. Your head was on your pillow, a focused Nam gyu diligently knotting a rope around your wrists, bundling them together and lacing the restraint through your headboard. Your neck felt bruised, sore and pulsing with a light pain as the blood rushed to your head. Your legs tensed on instinct, noticing the motion was not detained. He hadn’t tied your legs. You tugged once at the rope, testing the endurance just as much as you were testing your own strength. Your muscles felt nearly atrophied, the action making an ache ricochet through the oxygen-depleted muscles. Your whole body felt tired, heavy. Your exhale was shaky, slowly deflating from your lungs as if your body was made of stone. 

“Oh, good.” He double checked the knot, tugging once to solidify it’s hold on you before standing up to look down on you. “I didn’t know how long you’d be out.” He sounded so casual, as if instead of choking you unconscious and dragging you home, he’d simply carried you in from the car after you’d fallen asleep in it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your voice was quiet and gravelly, like your throat was coated in sand. Your lip trembled at the feeling of being so close to him. God, you were like a fucking puppy; can’t even be away from him for a week without turning into a weird sentimental puddle upon seeing him again. “Please untie me.” Your eyes watered as you spoke. You’d barely been awake five minutes and you were on the brink of tears. Pathetic. 

His eyes flicked over your face at the sight of your eyes welling up, a little glint of something familiar sparking in them for just a moment. “I can’t.” He shrugged, imitating disappointment at the notion. “You keep running from me. How are we supposed to resolve this if you can’t even keep still?”

Resolve this. Your eyes closed at the words, attempting to stop the tears from spilling at the thought. You’d left him for a reason. It was repeated over and over in your head like a mantra. You had to stick to it even if you couldn’t remember what the desire to be away from him felt like. Even as your chest heaved slightly with panic, you hoped he wouldn’t move. You hoped he would keep talking just so you could hear his voice, be near him. It wasn’t a rational wish by any means, but you could feel the intensity of it in your fucking bones with how consuming it was. 

“I’m not a patient man, honey. I waited for so fucking long.” He leaned over your dormant frame, putting one knee on the bed and moving his other to mirror the motion, effectively pinning your hips down under his weight. “You know, it wasn’t even your roommate who wanted you there. She just left her phone unlocked, and I knew you’d show up if she asked.”

“What-” Your words halted in your throat as he drew a pocket knife from the pocket of his sweatshirt. Jesus.  “Please - you don’t understand-” 

“Relax.” The word was chuckled slightly as he cut you off, like the panic that shot through your eyes at the sight of the blade in his hands was unjustified, like you were being irrational. “I think I was too selfish that night, hm?” The look he was giving you felt like it could kill you if he really wanted it to. Intense and suffocating, full of excitement and devotion. “You clearly hadn’t been touched in months and I got ahead of myself.” He shook his head slightly as his eyes looked over you, your chest was moving quick and shallow as you breathed, stomach tensing as he lifted your shirt up just an inch, caressing the skin above the waistband with his thumb. It barely even seemed intentional, as if his hands subconsciously drew themselves to you, needed to be touching you. 

Any urge you had to respond kept dying before it could be expelled. What do you even say to a situation like this? He was so at ease, explaining himself like a truly remorseful lover would. To anyone who didn’t know his inflection, that’s where it would end;  but you were so in tune with him, you could hear the edge of entertainment that his words carried. Maybe he was sorry, maybe he just liked seeing you unsure.

“I’m gonna make it up to you.” Your breath stumbled as he said it, your wrists grating unconsciously against the confines. “But it hurt my feelings when you ran like that.” He put a hand to his heart as he spoke, emphasizing his words. “So I’m gonna hurt you a little, too.” You felt the point of the blade make contact with the skin that his thumb had been smoothing over minutes before. It was enough to make the first tear fall from the corner of your eye. There was no pressure, just the threat of his words ringing true. Even in this scenario out of most peoples’ nightmares, you still didn’t think he’d truly hurt you, not irreparably. He’d always had sadistic tendencies, you even sometimes - shamefully - thought about the potential that was undoubtedly lurking beneath the surface of his presentability. He could get mean sometimes, especially when he was high, but never like this. He was sober, you could see it in his eyes and the way he moved. He just wanted to do this, wanted to be in control. 

He could practically feel the mesh of emotion seeping from your veins, taking longer than necessary to talk just to watch you soak in it. “Just enough to teach you some manners, honey.” His thumb trailed a line of pure heat along your jaw. “Don’t worry. You’ll probably even like it, knowing you.” 

A weird feeling jolted through the active nerves in your stomach. It was such a direct callout, based in certainty that he carried in his voice. You felt caught, recalling all the times he most likely knew exactly what you were thinking. Another tear streamed down the side of your face. 

The steel in his hand glistened in the low light of your bedroom, the sharpness of it being dragged down the fabric of your shirt, severing the only semblance of modesty you had left; the material draping open and bearing your skin to him. You’d been practically ready for bed by the time you took your walk, foregoing any additional coverage underneath the shirt, leaving all of you vulnerable to the exploration of his eyes. He pushed the sagging cloth to hang more off your shoulders, grazing his hands over the naked parts of you. It was gentle, restrained, like he couldn’t bear the time it would take to touch all of you because he needed it that badly. 

You felt the sting of an opening wound a second later, a whimper barely fleeing your throat. It wasn’t deep, he didn’t push hard. His lips parted as the blood rose to the surface of the small cut, pooling within it and releasing a single drop to pour down the side of your stomach. Before it could gain traction, he smeared the runny crimson, letting the liquid coat the print of his thumb. His pupils dilated at the sight, his breath coming out shakier than he’d like as his blood seemed to thrum in his veins. 

Your face twisted at the feeling, molten lava pooling in your stomach and burning you from the inside out. You felt hot, immune responses and arousal both running rampant in your body. You’d never felt more awake. He lowered his head to your exposed collarbone, brutally reminiscent of the night that predated this one. “See? Not so bad.” He led his hand up to your mouth, palm skimming your side as he hovered his thumb above your sealed lips, muttering out a request to open your mouth for me and you did because he was inexplicably intoxicating. Your tongue was coated in bitter metal combining with the discreet and slight flavor of his skin. You felt dizzy. 

He mouthed down the expanse of your upper body, leaving patches of your skin shiny with his saliva and stinging from the occasional love bite he would leave. He marked his places of affection with small cuts, each one sending a wave of warmth lower and lower, fanning the flames down to where he would ultimately end up. He would kiss over each future scar he left on you, a bloody comparison to your relationship as a whole, his actions making your heart ache and your back arch. You had been trying your hardest to stay quiet, trembling exhales being the only thing you couldn’t suppress; but he had a way of wearing you down in the most pleasurable ways imaginable, gradually building you up to the whimpers that were slipping past your crumbling resolve. 

With caring hands, he pulled at the waistband of your pants, folding them out from under your hips and bending each of your legs forward to get them fully off of your legs, laying them back down once he had. The room felt colder than it ever had. He stared with pride at the state of your perpetually clenched thighs, groping at the tense muscles. “What’d I tell you, huh?” He tucked the blade of the knife under the seam of your underwear, pulling up and slicing clean through them. “I don’t know why you want out when you like it so much.” Cutting the other seam, he let the fabric slide off of you, discarding the shreds of useless hindrance and taking in the full sight of you. 

You didn’t know why you ran either. You did like it. You liked it so fucking much that it scared you. Maybe it was a fear of feeling good, or a fear of what this kind of connection would inevitably do to you, what kind of a man he was. You’d tried to leave him and ended up panting, wet skin glistening and covered in gashes; and the worst part was you liked it. How the fuck could you like something like this?

He left various other claims of territory on your thighs. Teeth marks, nicks from the knife, worshipping kisses of a man in love. Everything action committed against your wanting flesh had so much emotion laced in it that you could barely take it. You were overwhelmed, your brain half shut down, only stopping itself from going dark because then you wouldn’t be able to feel him, to accept what he was giving you. 

He pushed your thighs out of their locked state, soothing over the irritation littered on them with his thumbs and his lips, dulling the sting with an even greater ache that was bleeding directly into the center of you. You felt like he’d lit you on fire. 

The tip of his index finger scorched a line up the place you’d been anticipating, shamelessly gliding in copious arousal that had been pooling since you saw him leaning on the hood of that car. It was a touch that seemed to pump life back into you, invigorating and familiar. Something you missed so much that you were sure you’d never be able to fathom the depth of it. He cursed, quiet and breathy; and you groaned at the feeling of friction, even if it was just a little. 

His mouth on you was sudden, but not rushed; the spontaneity of it forcing a gasp from you. His actions were calculated, arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you open, malleable and pinned. His hands were tense on your legs, fingers digging in tight as if he was struggling with his own internal grievances. You weren’t sure if it was restraint, or desperation, or something uncharted between the two of you. It was scary to think that something could be undefined right now, that maybe he was lost too. 

The warmth of his mouth on you after already having your body thoroughly overworked nearly knocked you unconscious for the second time that night. Your head was as thrown back as it could be given the state of your arms, chest reaching for the ceiling. Your poor wrists burned in the grit of the rope, but it only seemed to add to the peak you were being pushed to. He brought his index finger to sweep through the bountiful wetness in between your legs, this time pushing in and curling up, his second finger joining soon after. 

“Gyu - please -” The nickname was so domestic, something that hadn’t left your lips in months but seemed to feel as natural as breathing in this moment. The loving tone hit him like a wave, drawing a reflexive groan from his mouth. His eyes were practically black from how much his pupils encompassed the iris, his own eyes looking a little watery as a less extreme mimic of yours.

“Missed the way you taste.” The auditory affirmation paired with his fingers and his mouth sent you toppling. His fingers never let up, his mouth detaching to plant light kisses on the bone of your hip, looking up at your breathtaking form with an awestruck gaze that you couldn’t see through your closed eyes and tilted back head. 

You panted, thinking it was over. Maybe he’d fuck you, or maybe he would make you tea and the two of you would finally talk about things. He just moved his soaking fingers up to your clit, your body jumping slightly at the sensitivity. 

“Wait-” 

“Shh, just take it.” He spoke low and moved back to where he was, starting again when you had barely started coming down. His declaration of making it up to you rung in your ears. How long was long enough to be considered even? You writhed with overstimulation as you thought about it. Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Your second orgasm hit you hard in the middle of your useless inquiries, and you realize it didn’t really matter.

You were in for a long fucking night regardless.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃❮𓁿❯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

tags: @mitsxuri @citarnosis @namgyunation (tagging you lovely folks because you all mentioned wanting more content. please let me know if you want your @ removed and i will do it ASAP <3)

[hitlikehammers]

Early November, 1984 and all Eddie wanted was to light up behind the Byers' place in peace🚬

he went all that way and all he got for it was a maybe-dead💀-but-definitely-unconscious-king👑-slash-maybe-babysitter(?), plus some shithead children directing his van🚐 to those fucking abandoned labs that may as well be lit up in neon lights screaming 🚨THIS IS A FUCKING TRAP🚨

Eddie shouldn’t be here. Like, not in a it’s forbidden kinda way, but more in a, there’s no real reason for him to fucking be here.

Save for the obvious.

It’s just…after the whole dead-not-dead thing with the youngest kiddo, the property around the Byers house has kinda turned into no-man’s-land; easy place to get high when Eddie wants a change of scenery, basically, with no one trying to break his nose, or call the pigs.

Or snatch his supply.

But when he hears that fuckface Hargrove call out, the tone on him—and Eddie’s real sensitive to tones, he can guess between the lines for everything he can’t read—he perks up; listens in. Stays put out of sight.

(And no, he does not cream his pants when Harrington calls back, Jesus; taunts like the cocky prick that he is—

And no it is not a close thing or…whatever.)

Point being: he hears more than sees what happens. Up to and including a gaggle of literal fucking children dragging Harrington toward wha Eddie thinks is Hargrove’s eyesore of a car, one of the sheepies crossing around like they’re planning on driving it, and Eddie’s not one for the rule of law or anything—definitely not if it’s Hargrove’s property that’s on the line—and fuck yes Eddie’s driven without a license, and far below the age to get one, but, but—

He’s tripping over himself to turn the keys in his own ignition and swinging the van around quick enough to kick up dirt before he leans over and throws open the passenger door.

“Hey,” he hisses, low but not quiet, he needs them to hear but he doesn’t know if Hargrove’s gonna storm out any second, it’s a delicate balance; “hey, get in,” and he’s crawling over the seat to open the back, too, to push things to the side to mostly leave it flat, tossing blankets to the middle with no care for their cleanliness because there’s no time for that shit, there’s no time and then he’s grabbing the hinges of the doors and flinging his whole top half around to eye this hoard of strange ankle-biters and what’s revealed quickly to be their still-weirdly-attractive-when-beat-to-shit charge in Steve Motherfucking Harrington, trying to project some degree of meaningful trustworthiness, because he is trustworthy, here and now, but they’re kinda in the fucking clock of crazy-eyes-Mc-West-Coast stumbling out of the house, so Eddie’s kinda gotta urge these rugrats with real feeling, waving his hands to the point where his fucking wrists hurt:

“Get in.”

And of course these little urchins still and just, raise a fucking eyebrow at him. Like they’re not working on an inexact sort of fucking timeline—

“Who the fuck are you?”

Yeesh. He wasn’t off when he said they were ankle biters; the little lambies have teeth.

“I just wanna help,” Eddie tries to say it with as much of the genuine concern that he really and truly feels, and not get weighed down with the probably-suspicious-off-the-bat vibe of pulling up in a random van just to start the exchange out with waving some strange kids into the back of it.

Jesus, that sounds terrible, wow, okay.

He gets it.

“No,” oddly, not the ringleader girl who eyed him first but it’s the curly headed boy now who stands up, squares his shoulders, and stares Eddie down with an only-slightly-less-menacing glare. “No, you’re not gonna hurt Steve.”

“I don’t want to hurt him, I swear,” Eddie’s honestly surprised by how unmuddled his tone bleeds put as desperate, versus irritated by this motley crew of munchkins trying to fight him when he is risking his own neck to help them.

And…King Steve, but then: can he be that motionless, hanging awkward from the noodles limbs of a handful of preteens (at most)?

“I just want to get you out of here, somewhere safe,” Eddie bites his lip, wonders where the fuck he intends to go and realizes he was probably just going to drive toward his home and hope for the best; “Er, somewhere safer than here,” and they don’t fucking budge, little assholes, and Harrington doesn’t fucking twitch, and just, just…

Ugh.

“Come on,” he urges them again, just shy of begging; lets how fucking nervous he’s getting seep clear into his tone a little, but he honestly doesn’t think he’d have convinced them to move if not for the crashing of something in the house behind them, and—well.

Nothing like impending doom to speed shit along.

“I wanted to drive,” the redhead’s muttering with a scowl as they heft the body they’re barely keeping off the ground and awkwardly feed Harrington head-first up to Eddie where where he’s crawled properly into the back of the van to help, and Eddie thinks these little fuckers just might be more wild and feral and insane even than he originally would have guessed for how they make to scramble behind their Steve; only just manages to steady and lower the royal body as careful as he can before the hoard clamors in and denies Eddie so much as a moment to press his finger under Steve Harrington’s flop of bloody hair and touch below his jawline where those stupidly infuriating moles of his speckle his skin, marks that Eddie’s hasn’t ever really paid attention to ever, nope, Eddie only needs now to assess whether he’s just accepted a dead fucking body into his van but: no.

Maybe a little sluggish, but pulse’s strong. Which: Eddie doesn’t care about past the legality of it all. Beyond getting saddled with a murder charge or some other bullshit.

No other reason. Of course. Yeah.

The only thing that floors him more than the Hardy Boys-plus-Girl on steroids tearing onto the cushions around where their unconscious charge is laid out, as Eddie shifts into gear and makes to get the fuck out of dodge, like, yesterday, is the even-louder voice in his head that asks probably the most pressing question:

The fuck did the King do, and how, and why, to make these children this loyal?

What follows all that is quite arguably—actually more than that; definitely a strong contender for—the most surprising thing that’s ever happened to Eddie. That could maybe ever possibly happen to Eddie, in any circumstance for any reason within any universal construct or reality. And he’d been really marinating in his Munson Doctrine this year, too, having been forced to reevaluate some shit after the letter arrived to hammer the most disappointing nail in the coffin of Eddie’s first senior year, but then…fuck everything, then there were the stupid little sheepies and their stupid gorgeous goddamn babysitter—which still, still: what the fuck was that, who the fuck even was Steve Harrington?—and Eddie’d barely even put the ink down to dry before all of them banded secretly together and shredded that motherfucking document before it could even properly take root in Eddie’s brain.

All while something else entirely started to take root in his chest, in his hea—

Well. Something. Something that wasn’t even remotely recognizable inside his most recent—and most polished to date, if he does say so himself—draft of the Doctrine like, at all.

Which is the point.

Because Harrington was indeed alive, and did indeed wake up, and clocked Eddie quicker than expected, even by name—Munson? What the fuck?and hell if that hadn’t fluttered between Eddie’s ribs an indefensible amount that no one would ever know about ever, thank you very much, but still: Jesus H. Christ—

But all his own humiliating discombobulation at the not-even-hands-just-voice-and-presence-of-the-golden-boy aside: it’s a damn good fucking thing Harrington wakes up, and is definitely not dead, because Eddie knows where the King lives, and he knows he’s not driving in that direction but had instead been foolish enough to give these shitweasel munchkins the benefit of the doubt here, like that there maybe was a safe house or some shit, fucking sue him, he was a little prepccupied, yeah—by the threat of a chase with that Hargrove fucker and then by the absolutely spectacle of Harrington screeching at the wayward waifs like a harried mother at the stovetop, because fuck, but Eddie nearly crashes them into three ditches and at least five trees for for trying to watch and he can’t even pretend otherwise—but the end result is definitely not a fucking safe house, and these little asshats have directed him in the wholeass wrong direction, if the undeniable fact of the old abandoned labs at the edge of town looming big through his windshield, looking at least slightly less abandoned (as if that’s not goddamn terrifying in and of itself), what the fuck has he literally driven into, is he an accomplice, and to what, and just, just Jesus—

“Hey.”

Eddie is honestly wholly jolted out of his spiral for a lot of reasons, here. The low tenor exhale of a sound in a voice too kind and open and invested, to much like music given what it does to Eddie, what music means to Eddie and what this voice shouldn’t fucking mean too straight out the goddamn gate. The proximity of a body close enough to feel the warmth of each breath. The indefensible feeling of it being nearly erotic out of nowhere and with no justification at all—just the reality of Eddie’s world right now, to feel the barest brush of the side of a body alongside his, leaning forward where he’s still in the driver’s seat. All of that would tip his world at the very least into a different sort of spiral pattern, breathless in a completely other way.

But.

What knocks Eddie hardest and most effectively in one go is the hand on his shoulder, braced to comfort and steady, and the realization in the flesh of how fucking big it is, how the span of that palm, those fingers, because Eddie knew those hands looked big, not that he’d studied them with any real…attention or anything but feeling them was something entirely other, and the touch, the touch is…is—

“Hey,” and Harrington’s breath is close enough then to tickle Eddie’s hair, goddamn: “breathe.”

And where Eddie hadn’t been wholly aware that he wasn’t, y’know, doing the breathing thing so well, either for the absolute insanity of the evening or the ominous spread, all proper D&D-style foreshadowing of nope don’t go there not now not ever waiting where these menaces had directed him to drive; but whatever the reason, where Eddie now takes a gulp of air in now that fucking burns, there’s Harrington, leaning over a little more, a second hand on Eddie chest to steady him as he falls all while he’s fucking squeezing Eddie’s shoulder, only a second before he’s getting ready to jump out of the van like he wasn’t just beaten unconscious like, five fucking minutes ago.

What the actual flying fuck.

If Eddie weren’t a goddamn idiot, he’d put the van in reserve before anyone could get out the back, fuck the way they’ll be thrown against the sides, at least they won’t be walking—willingly—into whatever the fuck’s waiting, all angry red and kinda…pulsating in the distance in a way that may or may not be a trick of his own paranoid mind, and then spewing little glowing motes into the air like lightning bugs.

Which could be charming, if it weren’t way fucking past the season for that shit.

And in fairness, the whole experience of Steve Harrington touching him and leaning close and breathing near him and telling him to breathe? That shit does carry him through—mostly—the hours that will follow, cliche and genuinely fucking embarrassing as it is, as it will be, to acknowledge at all.

But in the now—

“Thanks, man.”

And…oh, well, fuck.

As in point number one: that hand—bothhands—really are distracting as all hell but then also, simultaneously, very much point number two:

What the actual fuck.

“What?”

Apparently sending Eddie-usually-eloquent-enough-to-spin-some-pretty-bullshit-on-demand-Munson reeling outta nowhere is this fucker’s MO. Probably for the best that Eddie’s been writing him off as a pretty airhead for years now—if for nothing more than his own sanity.

Or else, like…relatively speaking.

“You got us here,” Harrington gestures out the window and…yeah.

“Here?”

That’s the relative part. And the insane part to be thanked for. Because where they’ve ended up is definitely the DoE labs that were supposed to have shut down or whatever, after people disappeared and came back and disappeared again and also didn’t and were never gone and fake bodies and whatever.

No one thanks anyone for bringing them to a place like this.

“And it’s more than I could have asked someone to do,” Harrington’s going on like it’s a casual thing, a favor like walking his goddamn dog and not more like what’s actually staring them down inside the fencing, namely the building that doesn’t look as abandoned as advertised by half, and definitely doesn’t at all look like the only thing it’s missing is a big neon sign blinking TRAP! FREE TRAP! IN THE MARKET FOR A QUICK PAINFUL DEMISE AT THE HANDS OF THE WORLD’S SHITTIEST TAINT FACTORY EAST OF ARMPIT-IAPOLIS? STEP RIGHT UP! ALSO REMINDER: CLEARLY A TRAP!

“Harrington,” Eddie doesn’t love the way his voice trips over a bonafide gulp. “Steve.”

He also doesn’t love how much feeling sneaks into that part because one, where the fuck’d that even come from and two, he…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever said this guy’s first name out loud. As in…ever.

He doesn’t love how nice it feels, how scary but bubbly-warm it tingles at the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach.

So there’s all of that.

Still set inescapably under the threat of the non-existent-but-no-less-real-neon-sign-of-death and…stuff.

“We know what we’re doing,” Steve’s pats Eddie’s shoulder again, moves the hand from his chest like he’s pulling away, like he’s leaving to go toward the trap and Eddie whips his head around just in time to catch Steve shrug sheepishly and add:

“Like, mostly.”

It is not at all lost on Eddie, how Steve doesn’t even try to sidestep that he’s walking into the gaping maw of probably death, here.

That might be the most terrifying part of this yet.

“I could,” Eddie’s voice is a crackle, so he tries clearing his throat, licking his lips; “I could at least try to help.”

That comes out a little stronger, but not steadier, and he doesn’t really think he’s making his point very well at all.

But then there’s Steve, and his hand back full on Eddie’s shoulder, saying:

“You could,” like he believes that; “and we’d be grateful,” added in like he means that too.

And most unbelievable of all of it, what he tacks on last with a squeeze of his hand and a lower pitch for no reason Eddie can figure save to catch inside the clench of his pulse so it takes to jittering like fucking mad as the King himself exhales:

“I’d be grateful.”

And what the fuck does that mean, said with eyes so bright when the night’s so dark?

And what the fuck does it mean when Eddie’s heartbeat starts jittering, a butterfly between cupped hands, until:

“I need you to be safe though,” and the words have physical form, brush Eddie’s frizzled curls straight behind his ear like…tenderness, delicate.

What. The. Fuck.

Eddie blames the way his heart goes form butterfly to battering ram, ready to crack through his ribs for no reason save a feeling he can’t justify, but’s too real to pretend away as less when he half-fucking-moans:

“What about you?”

Because Steve’s shepherding the kiddos. He’s keeping Eddie on the sidelines, safe. He’s charging into battle with a handkerchief and a bat and a goddamn pair of rubber gloves found from somewhere, sticking out his back pocket like he’s flagging in day-glo, holy hell—

But who takes care of Steve?

“I’ll see you at school,” Steve winks, leans this time to bump one shoulder straight to Eddie’s and then he’s jumping out the back of the van, and he’s moving too fast and—

“Harrington,” Eddie calls, suddenly forgetting he’d ever been trying to keep quiet, to avoid attention of whatever they’re going out to face, Hargrove or harbingers of worker fates, or both at once; “fuck, fuck,” he hissed as he trips over shit that got shifted back in his way as he stumbles to the doors and yells:

“Steve!”

And it’s like maybe saying his name does something to Steve himself, too, because he pauses, and even for the distance, the little curve of his lips isn’t a smirk, it’s a smile.

It’s fucking beautiful.

And then he’s saluting cockily before he turns on his heel with just one last parting shot;

“See you on the other side, Munson.”

And the tunnels beyond only let him watch so long, see so far. The weird shit in the air, and the bandanas he can see a scuffle over, to make sure they’re tied over noses and mouths, lit by weird pulsing colors, obscene squelching noises he can hear the echoes of even this far back and just, just…

Typical eldritch fuckery from a monster manual.

That doesn’t belong in real life.

It’s a fucking trap, Admiral. Good fucking god.

And Jesus H. Christ, but Eddie hadn’t even had the chance to light up tonight as he’d planned, as he’d explicitly driven out to do.

For fuck’s sake.

>>>part two???

For @miraculousmultifan, who requested Post-S2; 'Now, I’m not going to deny that I was aware of your beauty. But the point is, this has nothing to do with your beauty. As I got to know you, I began to realise that beauty was the least of your qualities. I became fascinated by your goodness. I was drawn in by it' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—very late, obviously, and MID-S2, rather than post but it ENDS UP being post-S2, promise 🖤

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yesdangerpls @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

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[emsdevs]

Bear and Bug: The Pain

a/n: so so sorry for the wait! hopefully I can get stuff out a little quicker now that I'm used to my schedule! also gonna be completely honest this is not really proofread so ignore any errors! happy (or not so happy) reading! 🧸🐞

masterlist | bear and bug masterlist

The mood at the lake house was drastically different than usual. There’s no fun, no laughter, and most importantly, there’s no you. The boys were obviously feeling your absence, but Jim and Ellen refused to do anything to make them feel better. One way or another, each of the boys played a part in causing you to leave, so the couple decided to let their sons deal with the consequences of their actions. You were basically a daughter to them, and they hated knowing how badly you’re hurting right now because of their sons. If the boys wanted to fix this, they would have to figure out how to do it on their own.

Each of the boys was dealing with their emotions in different ways. Luke was quiet, which is heartbreaking when you truly know him. The kid never shuts up, but somehow, right now, he can’t find a single word to say. No one has heard him utter more than one or two-word sentences since the night you left. He knows it’s probably unhealthy, but he can’t get rid of the ache in his ribs from finding out that you kept a secret from him. He spends all of his energy thinking about what might have caused you not to trust him, so he doesn’t have any energy to talk with, stuck in his head all hours of the day.

Jack was secluding himself, spending hours at a time locked in his room. He only comes out to shower, use the bathroom, and grab food. When he does leave his room, he barely even looks at anyone. The anger is still obvious on his face. He’s not over the hurt you caused, and he’s not past taking it out on his brothers. He just hasn’t found the will to waste his breath yet. It wouldn’t be long, though, until he decides to take his anger out on you once more. He just has to find the time.

Quinn was handling it the worst. He only had two moods now: needing you so badly that he stays in your room all day and blaming himself so much that he can’t bear to look at your room. The house feels empty to him, dull even. Everything is better when you’re around, and he’s managed to ruin everyone’s entire summer by being selfish enough to start something with you. On the other hand, he really can’t bring himself to care. He was the happiest he’d ever been when he was yours. If nothing else, he’s still able to look back and see how great you were for each other, but he can also look back and think of what the two of you could’ve become. It was a never-ending cycle of pain and self-blame for Quinn, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to escape it unless he had you in his life again, one way or another. If he had to settle for pretending he never loved you and letting Jack occupy all your time, he would do it. He’d do anything to have you here again. 

~~~

Cole Caufield wasn’t sure what to expect when he heard a series of knocks on his door at 2:30 AM, but it definitely wasn’t you, face soaked with tears, and two suitcases. Without a word, he stepped aside, silently allowing you to enter his apartment. Your state, combined with the time and unplanned visit, has Cole in such a state of shock and worry that he almost misses when you collapse into his arms, sobbing once more.

“Hey, hey, hey,” when he regains the ability to think, he’s immediately comforting you, rubbing your back and speaking softly. “It’s okay. You’re all good. What do you need?”

“Can I please just stay here for a while?” your voice broke as you talked.

“Standing here or just at my place?”

“At your place.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Can I ask what has you so torn up?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it right now, Coley,” you sniffle.

“Okay. Okay, we don’t have to talk. Let’s get you settled in.” 

He brings you to the spare room in his apartment, helping you put away anything that needs it. When you two finish, he leaves the room, letting you change and clean up while he decides to order a pizza for you both. The pizza arrives just as you emerge from the spare room, and you both find a place on the couch to watch a movie while you eat. Cole tried to put on something he knew usually cheers you up, avoiding all the Disney movies that make you cry and going straight for Cars. The two of you have eaten six pieces of pizza and are about halfway through Cars 2 when you finally decide to open up to Cole.

“I was dating Quinn,” it more or less just spills from your mouth. You didn’t have much control over it.

“What?” Cole is nearly shouting, clearly shocked by the news. “Wait. What do you mean you were dating Quinn? You’re not anymore?”

You let out a big sigh before giving him a quick summary of the events of your last day at the lake house, “We kept it a secret for a while because we didn’t wanna freak people out or cause a scene if it wasn’t serious. We told Quinn’s family in the first few days we were there, and needless to say, Jack caused a scene. He was all mad at Quinn, telling him he couldn’t let him have anything for himself. He started yelling at us both, and of course, Luke heard. Then he was all heartbroken because I kept a secret from him. Oh! And Jack called me a whore.”

“Jack did what?” Cole’s voice once again raised. “I’m sorry. I just- I can’t believe Jack would say that about you. You’re not a whore by the way. I hope you know that. Don’t let him get to your head.”

“I just feel so guilty, Cole. That’s why I’m here. I broke up with Quinn, at least for the time being, and I knew I had to leave the lake house. They’d look for me at my parent’s house, and I figured they probably wouldn’t think of me coming to you. Thanks for letting me stay, by the way.”

“Of course. Have you thought about when you might go back?”

“Not at all. I tore apart their family. I can’t face them any time soon.” “Okay, that’s a little dramatic, but I’m going to the lakehouse in about three weeks. If you’re feeling up to it, you’re welcome to come with me.” “I’ll think about it, Coley.” ~~~

Quinn was growing tired of the tension at the lake house, and after one dirty look from Jack, he lost it.

“Will you please get off of your high horse? I mean, honestly, you can not be this mad that your best friend got a boyfriend,” he snapped at Jack, ready for whatever his brother might bite back with. 

“Oh, says you. You took her from me!”

“Really? I took her from you? Because she spent the entire summer last year with you because she knew you’d be leaving her, then she spent almost every night on the phone with you, listening to how horrible the NHL has treated you and how hard it is living the life you’ve always wanted! The only reason we even got close is because she was terrified you’d stop talking to her once you made it big!”

“Oh, whatever! She’s been in love with you since we were kids. Everyone could see it. That’s why I tried to keep her to myself. This was all just some big plot she made up to get what she really wanted!”

“Will you quit talking about her like she’s some puck bunny you slept with on a roadie? God! This was not some big scheme. She felt horrible lying to you, to everyone. I mean, you’re the only reason we kept our relationship a secret. She knew how rough you had it, and didn’t wanna put any more stress on you! If you learned to deal with your emotions like a big boy we probably would’ve told you and everyone else a lot sooner!”

“Jack, how much of your emotional stress did you load off on her? Because it’s starting to sound like you caused all of this,” the two boys hadn’t noticed their baby brother had entered the room until he spoke, more shocked to hear him speaking full sentences than to see him standing there.

“I didn’t cause anything. They’re the ones who have been lying to everyone.”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, bud,” Quinn was done with the conversation at that point, heading upstairs and straight to his ex-girlfriend’s room, trying to figure out where she might have gone.

“You need to get a grip, Jack. They were happy. There’s nothing to be mad about,” Luke begins to walk off before Jack chimes in once more. 

“I thought you were mad too? What happened to that?”

“I actually took the time to think through things. I realized that the only reason I felt a little betrayed was because I felt left out. She usually tells me everything, so it shocked me. But she had her reasons for not telling me, and I have to accept that. Maybe try using that brain of yours or whatever’s left of it.” He left Jack to sit in his thoughts, quietly joining Quinn in your room. The boys silently shared the space, knowing they were on the same side now.

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry

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[secretlysamcro]

Female reader x Jax teller MAJOR SPOILERS! Violence (pregnancy) & Explicit language If you're under the age of 18. haven't finished the show or dislike any of said topics, please read no further.

Request: "The reader is Jax’s old lady and an rival club finds this out and kidnaps the reader using her for lovage against the sons, the reader is pregnant and hasn’t told Jax yet and when he comes to save her she gets injured and taken to the hospital during that he’s finds out and they get to see the baby for the first time together"

Backstory: The tension between the club and the Irish has been brewing for weeks now. Jax pushing to sever all ties with the IRA. Jax is determined to do so in order to protect his club and his family, no matter the cost. Galen on the other hand, isn't ready to let go of the SAMCRO connection so easily. He needs Clay out of prison, and the only people he knows that will get it done is the Sons. He knows Jax won't help him willingly, but he knows the one thing that Jax would do anything for, is you.

“Just one more” he says his voice low and steady, hanging in the doorway like he doesn’t want to leave. His hand wraps around yours, brushing his rough thumb over your knuckles as he closes the space between you once again. The kiss slow and smooth, making it last.

“Jax, go” you laugh, shoving him away playfully, even though part of you wants him to stay. You know he needs to be at the clubhouse. There’s a lot of shit going on at the moment, but as his old lady, you’re only told the stuff he chooses to tell you, the rest is a mystery.

He grins, giving you one last look before jogging down the steps, his trainers thudding against the concrete. The roar of his Dyna filling the air as he takes off down the road.

Your hand drifts to your stomach, cradling the secret you’ve been carrying. The new life you’ve both created. Tonight was the night you were finally going to tell him.

You’d had your suspicions for a while, the doubt creeping in until that one morning when they were confirmed by the positive test. Even then, the shock hit you like a punch. For the most part, you wanted to run to Jax, to tell him right then and there, but you knew it wasn’t the right time. He’d been carrying so much on his shoulders lately, stress from the club, the Irish deal that seemed to be falling apart. The last thing he needed was more pressure.

“Yeah, I’ve got eyes on her now” one of Galen's men says, his Irish accent thick as ever. “I’m sure... he’s just left, she’s home al-...”

You step out of the house in your comfy sweats, car keys and phone in hand. You get into your car, sorting yourself out before starting the engine, completely oblivious to the eyes tracking your every move.

“...Change of plan boss, she’s on the move” He watches your car pull off, tracking your every turn as you head down the street.

Jax sits at the head of the table, the presidential gavel in hand. “All in favour of the Sons breaking ties with the IRA?” he announces, Chibs already shaking his head, aware of the storm brewing.

“This is a bad idea Jackie boy” the VP warns, his voice tight with concern. “Galen’s a bloody butcher, and the IRA? they aint letting us go that easy” he says, Jax shooting him a look as if to say ‘do what I fucking say’ Chibs, screws his face in stubbornness. “Aye” he reluctantly spits out.

Jax bangs the gavel as the vote comes in as a yes. The other members leaving the room, Chibs staying behind. His eyes fixed on Jax.

“This is the only way we get out of this cartel mess” Jax says, his voice firm, truly believing this is the right move.

Chibs crosses his arms, his gaze still steady. “I really hope you’ve got a plan, Jackie” he says, the weight of the situation hanging heavy in his words.

“They’ll have to do it” Galen speaks down the phone.

“He’ll do anything I need him to” he looks down to the floor, clearly frustrated “I’m getting him out...tomorrow” he says, before hanging up the phone.

“You really think the sons can pull this off?” Connor questions, his voice sounding doubtful, clearly concerned about where their ties land.

Galen looks him up and down, his gaze cold and calculating. “They don’t have much of a choice” he says, “but I don’t trust Jackson, not after what went down with Father Ashby, God bless his soul” he makes the sign of the cross as he continues speaking “I need Clay out, and I need him out, now”. “And when he gets out, what's his plan? You know the Sons aren't taking him back” Connor states, the doubtful tone still evident.

Galen glances towards him, the corners of his mouth tightening at the frequent questioning “Clay’s heading to Ireland, He’s planning to set up his own charter, make his own way” He then goes into his pocket, to grab the burner phone that’s ringing. “Aye” he says, answering the call.

“We’ve got her” the line hangs up.

Jax and the club are still at the clubhouse. Jax sits at the bar, Chibs beside him. A text flashes on his phone from a burner number.

Unknown Number: Meet @ warehouse 13.00 -G

Jax looks up, his eyes sharp. “Galen wants us at the warehouse. Be ready to move” he tells everyone, making sure they're all prepared.

“Aye, but what for Jackie?” Chibs questions, not realising they would be facing Galen again so soon.

“I guess we’re gonna find out” Jax mumbles as he begins to text, not Galen though, you.

Jax: Hey babe. b home later than I thought. wait up 4 me. love u.

The guys ride in one by one, Jax leading the way as always, followed by his VP and then the rest of the crew. The warehouse looks empty, spookily quite in fact. Until the doors groan open. Inside, Galen, Connor and a few more of the Irish stand waiting.

Jax steps forward, entering first. His voice laced with sarcasm. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” The footsteps of the others following close behind.

Galen offers a distant nod, his smile stiff as usual. “Things have changed Jackson” he says, no trace of regret coming from him.

“Hey, if we’ve got some kind of beef lets throw it on the table” he says, his voice sharp.

Galen looks away, almost amused before responding “Don’t be so sensitive Laddy”

Jax snaps, “Grow some balls, you Irish prick” his tone, still unwavering. The others step closer, sensing something could potentially pop off at any given moment.

Galen pauses for a moment, then steps forward to Jax, the sound of his boots crunching against the gravel. “Alright” he says, “I think you’re arrogant, selfish and explosive...” he begins “...The wreckage you caused in Belfast got a man of God, and my dearest friend killed”

Jax frowns slightly, a confused look spreading across his face “You talkin’ about the priest?” he asks, genuinely puzzled.

“Aye” Galen nods, his voice sounding bitter. “Father Kellan Ashby pulled me off the streets, saved my life” each word dripping with resentment.

Jax smirks, the tension getting thicker. “Gave you the Catholic blessing of the blood...made you Gangsta’ of Christ?” he mocks.

Galen lunges forward, landing a punch directly above Jax’s eyebrow. The whole warehouse erupts into chaos as both sides rush to break them apart.

Jax still smirking as his adrenaline rises shouts “Now we’re making progress!” eager to keep the fight going. The men spill out into the open space in front of the warehouse. The fight continues, both men hitting and being hit, sweat and blood flying with every swing, neither backing down until finally the men watching, pull them apart.

Galen wipes blood from his lip, a twisted smile forming on his face as he looks over to Jax. “Oh, and by the way Jackson…” he says, his voice cold. “…Clay’s getting transported tomorrow. I need you and your club to stop that from happening, and bring him here, to me.” he demands his orders.

Jax laughs, spitting the leftover blood out from his mouth, the confusion spreading across all the faces present. “And why would I do that?” he responds, stunned by Galens audacity.

“Because Jackson...if you don't…” he pulls his phone out, unlocking it calmy before holding it up to show Jax. A woman sitting in a chair, her arms bound and her mouth gagged. The room goes still as Jax works out who the woman in the picture is. “…She dies”. Jax’s expression shifts, the gravity of the situation hitting him.

The air is cold, the darkness surrounds you. Your hands are bound, your mouth gagged as tears trickle down your face, silently sobbing.

Deep down, part of you knew this was always a possibility. Being the lover of the notorious Sons of anarchy president, could you expect any less?

Footsteps approach through the silence, growing closer with each step. Your heart beating in your chest as he comes into view. Sliding into your peripheral vision. His face, now inches from yours. His breath warm against your skin. A sharp calloused finger brushes away your tear. “Cut the shite” he growls, standing tall once again.

“Those tears mean nothing to me” he turns and leans casually against a desk directly across from you. His legs crossed and his arms folded to match.

In a desperate effort, you manage to wriggle the makeshift gag away from your mouth. “what... do you want...from me” you manage to wheeze out, your breathing laboured due to fear.

He stares at you, not a slither of sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t need shite from you” he says, pointing in your face. “It’s your pretty wee lad we’re after”.

"Please, don't hurt me...I'm...I'm pregnant" you practically cry out.

"Well then you better hope, Jackson, does what he's told"...

“You think this is gonna work Jax?” Juice’s voice echoes through the silence. Jax keeps his eyes on the the road, looking through the passenger side window, his jaw clenched. “We don’t have a choice” he wipes a hand across his face. The image of you alone, with the Irish, twists in his gut like a knife. “We stop the van, grab Clay, then hand him over to Galen. It’s that simple” he says, relaying the plan instructed by Connor.

The transportation van was forced off of the road, leaving slight chaos in it’s wake. Juice and Jax were in one van, with Bobby, Tig and Connor trailing close behind in the other. Together, they worked effortlessly, forcing the officers to surrender without much of a fight.

Jax, swinging open the vans back doors to reveal Clay, a slight confused look on his face. Jax takes off his ski mask, a smirk appearing as Clay squints up looking towards Jax, clearly not expecting him. “Where’s the Irish?” he says, realising this isn’t the original plan.

“No Irish” Jax replies, his jaw tense. “Just me”.

The job was done, more or less. The boys had managed to pull it off with only one minor hitch, Bobby had taken a bullet in the process. Jax though, is focused on what matters the most, The trade. Clay needed to be handed over to Galen without delay. Clay, for you.

Jax strides into the warehouse, the club reunited once again. He heads straight for the small office in the back with Chibs and Tig only, the others hanging around behind the door. Inside, Galen stands waiting wearing his usual cocky grin. Jax doesn’t even give him the chance to speak. “You’ll get Clay, when I get y/n” he growls, his voice cold but firm.

Galen smirks, clearly expecting some sort of demand from Jax. He gestures to another Irishman lurking in the corner. The man follows his silent order, slipping out of the room only to return moments later.

He shoves you roughly into the room, you stumble and slam your side into the edge of the cabinet. Jax moves instinctively, about to rush to your side.

“NO!” Galen barks, stopping him from getting any closer. “You’ve seen her, now I want Clay” he spits.

Jax, who’s teeth are snarled, turns around to Tig, giving him a nod. The command clear, go and get Clay. He then looks back to you, sensing the fear rushing through your body. His gaze softens, seeing you in pain, seeing you like this. Your face is bruised, blood smeared across your cheeks. His attention now drawn to how your hands are clutching your stomach protectively.

Tig returns quickly, bringing Clay into the room. The tension is thick as the exchange happens all at one. Clay stepping forward beside Jax, Galen's attention now shifting to him.

You waste no time, you bolt towards Jax, throwing yourself into him. He catches you holding you close, then pulling you away slighting holding onto your shoulders, scanning your entire body for any injuries. “Its okay, y/n” he murmurs, his voice close to a whisper. “I'm so sorry” he says, knowing this is all his fault.

Just behind you, Jax catches Galen's movement. He steps forward, probably about to make some smug comment about the deal, but Jax doesn't wait to find out. “Close your eyes” he whispers into your ear. You barely have time to react as Jax looks over to Chibs and Tig, the three of them exchanging a knowing glance.

Within a second, their guns are drawn. Jax keeps you tightly against him, his free arm acting as a barrier around you as he fires. His bullet lands dead Centre into Galen's forehead, Chibs taking down one Irishman, and Tig dropping the other. The crack of the gunfire makes you scream into Jax’s chest, muffling the sound. Your knees buckle as you drop to the floor. Jax lowering with you, pulling you even closer.

“Jesus christ” Clay mutters, looking around seeing Galen’s lifeless body stretched across the floor. Jax looks over to him. “We had a vote” he says coldly. “This needed to happen” Jax, finally one step closer to cutting ties with the true IRA.

Jax’s eyes catch the way your hand trembles as it moves between your legs. when you pull it away, blood covers your palm. His heart dropping to his stomach as panic flashes across his face. “Shit” he shouts out, looking around the room trying to make sense of the situation.

“Did she get shot?” Tig questions, also trying to work out the cause of the blood. You don't respond right away, staring at your bloodied hands. This was not how you wanted Jax to find out. Your gaze slowly shifting to Jax, the look in your eyes breaking his heart.

“The baby...” you whisper, your voice exhausted

Jaz freezes, along with everybody else in the room. The words replaying in his head. “The... baby?” he echoes, his voice hard to hear.

It’s not anger or frustration but complete shock. However, there's no time for questions. His protective instincts kicking in like a flip of a switch. Jax shouts for Rat, it takes seconds for him to enter. “I need you to take y/n to the hospital NOW!” his tone sharp and commanding.

Rat, looking around the room taking in what has just happened. “What about-” he’s cut short.

“I SAID NOW!” he takes a deep breath, steadying his anger "please, just go now call me when you get there, I’ll catch up”.

You cling to Jax’s kutte as he leans down, cupping your face with both hands. “you’re gonna be fine” he says, his voice steady, even though his heart feels like its ripping apart. He places a kiss to your forehead. “I have to deal with this, but ill be right behind you ok. I promise... I love you” He kisses you again, helping you off the floor and passing you over to Rat.

As Rat leaves with y/n the other members pile into the room. Clay’s eyes follow, a look of resignation spreading across his face. “I guess you had another vote I wasn’t privy to” a short smile plays on his lips, as he realises what's about to happen.

“Yeah, we did” Jax nods his head slowly. “This time it was unanimous” they stare at each other for a while, before Clay finally speaks.

“fair enough” the eye contact lingering on a little longer.

Clay steps back, not fighting it and completely expecting what's to come. He says nothing, just looks at Jax with a hint of understanding. He moves slowly to the other side of the room, bracing himself in the corner. “This good?” he questions, his voice low as he takes one last look at club he used to call family.

“Yeah” Jax says, no feelings in his words what so ever.

Chibs silently steps forward, loading the gun. He hands it to Jax, who takes it with steady hands. Without hesitation he raises the gun, firing one final shot, hitting Clay straight in the neck. Clay falling to his knees, the blood gushing out like a fountain, he's flat on the floor, the life draining from him.

Jax hands the gun back to Chibs. “I’ve got to go” he says, sounding urgent. “You got this?” he asks his VP, making sure that the rest of the plan plays out just as well. Chibs nods, already moving into motion.

As Jax makes his way to his bike, Connor approaches. “Galen still in there?” he asks, completely oblivious to the mayhem behind the doors. Jax’s lips curl into a smile, a darkness forming over him.

“Yeah. He’s not going anywhere” Without waiting for a response, he jumps on his bike, speeding off doing his best to catch up with Juice, y/n and his unborn child.

Jax’s heart pounds through his kutte covered chest, as he pulls into the hospital parking lot. The roar of his bike engine fading as he skids into park. He waste’s no time, pushing through the hospital doors with urgency, the sterile smell hitting him in the face.

His eyes scan through the reception. Rat, sitting nervously in one of the chairs, looks up as Jax approaches, his chest tight with worry.

“Where is she?” he demands to know, the anxiety creeping in.

Rat stands quickly, raising his hand in a calming gesture. “They took her in to check her over” the words rushing out but in a calming manor.

“She's fine, the baby...your baby is fine” he reassures Jax. The weight of those words hit Jax like a wave, for the first time in hours, he allows himself to breath. The tension in his body easing, as he lets out a long shaky breath.

Rat eyes Jax curiously, his expression cautious, not wanting to over step. “How did it go?”

Jax meets his gaze, his voice finally steady. “It’s done”. Rat nods, understanding exactly what Jax is saying, no need for a further explanation.

“The guys probably need you, take my bike, leave the van... and thank you Rat, for getting them here safe” Jax, pats Rat on the back.

Rat looks at Jax, blinking in disbelief. “wait... take your bike?” he repeats the words, unsure if he misheard. “Nobody rides your bike” he adds, still in shock.

A smile curls on Jax’s face, but the warning still stands true. “If you leave a single scratch on it, you’ll be meeting Mr. Mayhem next” he gives Rat a wink, masking the seriousness in his threat.

The gel that the nurse places on your belly is cold, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your whole body aches, bruised from the events of earlier today. The relief however, over shadows the pain, you and the baby are fine and that’s all that matters. You try to focus on that, but your mind keeps drifting to Jax, wishing he was here with you.

Just as the thought crosses you mind, the door creaks open. You look up, and there he is, appearing in the doorway.

“Just in time” the sonographer smiles warmly.

“Hey Darlin” Jax murmurs to you, his voice steady with an apologetic look in his eyes. He slides into the chair next to you, leaning over kissing you softly on the lips. He lingers there for a moment longer, grounding himself in the reality that you’re both okay.

“okay, y/n are you ready?” The sonographers voice breaking the silence, her tone gentle as she prepares to scan you. She talks you both through what’s going to happen as she adjusts the machinery. You nod in response as Jax squeezes your hand, his eyes flicking between you, the sonographer and the monitor. His nerves still on edge, unsure of what to expect.

The room falls quiet as the sonographer moves the wand over your belly. The humming from the machine being the only present sound. Your focus shifting to the screen. A tiny unmistakable figure moving ever so slightly. “There’s your baby” she smiles, her presence warm.

“Oh my god” you sigh out, your hand moving to cover your mouth in disbelief. Jax is frozen, his eyes glued to the screen his grip on your hand tightens as it feels like the world has stopped spinning.

“Jax look” you say, looking over at him, admiration in your eyes. Jax is frozen, he blinks hard as his jaw tightens, his mood unreadable.“Jax?” you question, unsure of how he’s feeling.

His rough exterior begins to crack as he leans closer to the screen, his blue eyes shimmering with tears. “Jesus...” he mutters, as he wipes a tear falling down his cheek. He cracks a laugh in disbelief, returning the eye contact now. “That’s our baby” his vulnerable side now showing.

“From the measurements, I’d estimate you’re roughly 12 weeks, at the least” the sonographer speaks gently, her voice breaking into the emotion bubble you're both currently sat in.

“12 weeks” Jax repeats in a whisper, more tears slip down his face as he keeps wiping them away with the back of his hand.

It’s a lot to take in, everything that's happened in the last 48 hours crashing down on him at once. This wasn’t part of the plan, not at all. But as he stares between you and the little baby wriggling on the screen, his heart swells, a new level of protectiveness he has never felt before.

Jax holds the printed scan photo delicatley in one hand, holding you as delicatley around your waist with the other, as you make your way towards the van.

You glance around, noticing something is missing. “No bike?” you ask, confusion creasing your eyebrow.

Jax sighs, a small smirk growing on his lips. “I let Rat ride it back” he says, already regretting his decision

Despite everything thats happened, it’s as if this has shocked you the most. “you what?” you almost shout.

He shrugs, amused by your reaction. “Yeah, well desperate times babe. He knows what will happen if he messes it up” Jax reassures you, whilst trying to also reeassure himself.

You shake your head in disbelief , still trying to process what he’s just told you, as he helps you gently into the van.

The joy of the past hour almost made you forget what had happened earlier. But now, as you sit beside Jax in the van, it all comes rushing back.

The last time you saw him, he wasnt the man gently holding your hand like he is now. He was Jax, the president, Jax the outlaw, pulling the trigger without hesistation. You knew what he was capable of, but seeing it with your own eyes was a different feeling.

Jax notices the small shift in your demeanour and turns to you. “You okay?” he questions.

You nod, your voice on the verge of crying “Just... a lot to... take in” you manage to get out.

He sighs, squeezing your hand. “y/n I am so sorry you had to see that” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you too, but I had no choice” he reassures you, it wasn’t just for fun.

You look at him, his face so calm even though you know the burden he carries is much heavier than he ever lets on.

“I promise you, y/n. I’m getting us out of this” he looks upwards as if trying not to cry “I can’t ever have you, or our baby in a situation like that again… I don’t know what I’d do if…” he tries to catch a breath, you squeeze his hand as an act of comfort.

“I love you Jax, I love all of you, even the club” you breath out a small laugh, wanting him to feel secure. Even though deep down, the thought of your child growing up in this world makes you feel sick to your stomach.

“I love you too y/n, both of you” Jax smiles as he begins driving home, praying that the plan he set in motion, is enough to keep everyone safe.

Photos & gifs do not belong to me. Just edited them together.

Who rewatches scenes to fit them perfectly into their story plot? Yes, it’s me.

Pls pls pls send me some Jax requests, I love writing but when it comes to thinking of something to write, that’s where I go blank!

Jax Teller Masterlist

Also, thank you all so much for your comments & feedback, love u all 🫶🏽

[thatidiotsuds]

John Price x Fem! Wife! Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or images used in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

Warning ⚠️ : kissing 💋

Kit's Notes: Not proof-read and I may have stated "Johnny" here a couple of times since I wrote this for soap and changed the character to Price last minute.😅 Because this really gives Dad Vibes.

Word count: 2080. Masterlist

Finally Home

It was late at night, the kind of night where the world outside felt heavy with silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. John Price had just returned home after being deported for over a month, and the weight of his experiences clung to him like a second skin. Friends lost, bloodshed, and fear—things no one should ever have to witness. But now, he was back, and that was all that mattered.

He quietly placed his keys on the table, the sound echoing in the stillness of the house. Dropping his bag, he made his way upstairs, where the warmth of home awaited him. As he entered the bedroom, he found you sleeping peacefully, the soft rise and fall of your chest a soothing sight after the chaos he had endured.

“Love…” he whispered, his thick English accent wrapping around the word like a warm blanket. He slipped into bed beside you, the familiar scent of your hair grounding him. You stirred, blinking sleep from your eyes, and smiled at him.

“I’m tired, love…” he murmured, burying his face into your shoulder, inhaling the comfort of home. “I missed you…” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with emotion.

“I missed you too,” you replied softly, your heart aching for the man who had seen too much.

John pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, even in the dim light of the room, his own filled with a mix of exhaustion and longing. He brushed a stray hair from your face, his calloused fingers gentle against your skin. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, sweetheart…”

You smiled, concern flickering in your eyes. “You look like you need a drink.”

He let out a small laugh, a tired smile tugging at his lips. “That’s an understatement. I need more than just a drink. I need a long, hot shower and a whole week of rest.”

“Let’s get you in the shower then,” you said, taking his hand and guiding him toward the bathroom. He leaned on you for support, his body heavy with fatigue.

Once inside, he began to undress, letting his dirty clothes fall to the floor. The moment he stepped into the shower, the hot water cascaded over him, washing away the grime and sweat of the past month. He closed his eyes, letting out a contented sigh as the tension in his muscles began to ease.

“Here, let me help you,” you said, letting him sit on the tub while you perched on the edge, your hands gentle as you helped him wash. The warmth of the water and your touch was a balm to his weary soul. But just as he began to relax, you poured the soap and shampoo on his hair and skin, lathering it into thick bubbles while you massaged his torso.

As Price was about to doze off, a soft cry echoed from the nursery.

“Ah, bloody hell,” John muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. “I’ll finish up here, love. You go see to the little one.”

You nodded, giving him a quick kiss before stepping out to tend to the baby. John finished rinsing off, the water soothing his aching muscles, and once he was done, he wrapped a towel around his waist, took his comfy clothes from the rack, and made his way to the nursery.

There you were, gently covering your daughter with a soft blanket, finally getting her to sleep, her tiny features peaceful in slumber. “Look at her,” you said, glancing up at him with a smile. “She’s got your eyes.”

“Yeah, she’s a precious one,” John replied, his heart swelling with pride. He stepped closer, nuzzling against you, and slowly guided you both back to your bedroom, walking through the narrow halls of your small home, the warmth of your body mingling in the dim light of the room. Silence was comforting at the moment.

When you reached your bedroom's door frame, he placed a finger under your chin and leaned in to kiss you, a passionate deep kiss that he had longed to give you after all the missed time. As you both shared a tender moment, the heat of your reunion ignited a spark, and soon you found yourselves back in the bedroom, lips crashing together in a passionate kiss. The world outside faded away, and for a moment, it was just the two of you.

But just as things began to heat up, the door creaked open, and in walked your eldest son, rubbing his eyes. “Mum? Dad? I can’t sleep. It’s too dark.”

Price sighed, a mix of frustration and amusement washing over him. “Aye, come here, lad,” he said, scooping up his son and cradling him in his arms. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

As he carried the boy down the hall, he couldn’t help but be playful, making silly faces and telling ridiculous dad jokes that had the little one giggling. You stood at the doorframe, watching them with a smile, your heart full.

“Dad, what were you and Mum doing in the bedroom?” the boy asked innocently, his curiosity piqued.

John paused, caught off guard. “Uh, well, we were just… uh…”

“Were you kissing?” the boy asked, eyes wide with wonder.

“Yeah, we were,” John admitted, trying to keep a straight face. “But it’s just a way of showing we love each other.”

“Are you making another sibling for me?” he asked, referencing what he’d heard from his classmates about storks and babies.

Price chuckled, shaking his head. “Not quite, son. It doesn’t work like that. You see, babies come from a bit more than just kisses.” He took a deep breath, preparing to explain. “When two people love each other very much, they can decide to have a baby. It’s a special thing that happens when they’re ready.”

The boy’s eyes widened, processing the information. “So, you and Mum are just… practicing?”

John couldn’t help but laugh at the innocent interpretation. “Aye, something like that. But it’s not just about the kisses; it’s about love and care, too.”

“Okay,” the boy said, nodding seriously. “But I don’t want a baby yet. I have my little sister.”

“Fair enough, lad,” John replied, tucking him into bed. "We wouldn’t change that for the world.” He covered him with a blanket, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “Now, get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

As he turned to leave, he glanced back at his son, who was already drifting off. With a smile, he walked back to the bedroom, where you were waiting, arms crossed and a playful smirk on your face.

“Did you manage to explain it without too much trouble?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

John shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “Aye, I think he’ll be alright. Just a bit of a misunderstanding, that’s all.”

You laughed softly, stepping closer to him. “Well, now that we’ve settled that, how about we get back to what we were doing?”

Price’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he pulled you into his arms. “Aye, let’s not let a little one interrupt our time together again.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, the world outside forgotten as you both melted into each other, ready to reclaim the moments you had lost. The kiss deepened, igniting a fire that had been smoldering during the long days apart. Price’s hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he could merge your souls into one. The warmth of the room enveloped you both, and for a moment, the weight of the world faded away.

“Ye know,” he murmured between kisses, “I could get used to this again. Just us, no interruptions.”

You smiled against his lips, feeling the tension of the past month slip away. “I think we deserve a little time to ourselves, don’t you?”

“Aye, we do,” he replied, his voice low and husky. He lifted you slightly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you back to the bed, the soft sheets welcoming you both.

As he laid you down, his gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb across your cheek. “I’ve missed this—missed you.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection. “And I’ve been waiting for you to come back, Johnny. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips again, pouring all the love and longing he had into that kiss. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of you, lost in each other’s embrace.

But just as you began to lose yourselves in the moment, a soft knock echoed from the door. John groaned, pulling away slightly, frustration flickering in his eyes. “What now?”

“Dad?” came the small voice from the other side. “I can’t sleep. I’m scared.”

Price sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll be right back, love,” he said, adjusting his pajama pants.

You watched him go, a smile creeping onto your face as he opened the door to find your son standing there, wide-eyed and clutching his blanket.

“Come here, lad,” Price said, kneeling down to his son’s level. “What’s got ye all worked up?”

“I don’t like the dark,” the boy admitted, his voice small.

John scooped him up, cradling him in his arms. “Well, ye don’t need to worry. I’ll stay with ye until ye fall asleep with that ...night lamp..How about that?”

The boy nodded, snuggling into his father’s shoulder. “Can you tell me a story?”

“Aye, I can do that,” John replied, carrying him back to his room. As he settled the boy into bed, he began to weave a tale of brave knights and daring adventures, his thick English accent bringing the story to life.

You leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene unfold with a smile. John was a natural storyteller, his voice animated as he painted vivid pictures with his words. The boy’s eyes sparkled with wonder, and soon enough, he was drifting off, lulled by his father’s soothing voice.

Once the boy was asleep, John tiptoed back to your room, a playful grin on his face. “Well, that was quick,” he said, closing the door behind him.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “You’re a great dad, you know that?”

John chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Aye, I try. But it’s not always easy, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” you agreed, stepping closer to him. “But moments like these remind me of what truly matters.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Family is everything, love. No matter how chaotic life gets, it’s these moments that make it all worthwhile.”

You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little. “And we have to cherish them, don’t we? Time is fleeting, and we never know what tomorrow will bring.”

“Aye,” he replied, holding you close. “We need to make the most of every moment we have together. That’s what family is all about.”

As you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realized that despite the challenges and uncertainties, the love you shared was a constant source of strength. In the quiet of the night, you understood that time spent together, no matter how small, was a treasure to be cherished.

With a renewed sense of purpose, you leaned in to kiss him, knowing that no matter what lay ahead, you would face it together as a family. And in that moment, you both understood that love, laughter, and the simple act of being together were the greatest gifts of all.

[icewindandboringhorror]

currently at That Point which occurs once every few months where one briefly begins pacing around the house teary eyed contemplating selling their own organs or becoming an online scammer or getting on anxiety meds so you can bear the risk taking required to be a hitman or so on and so forth.... why must everything so Expensive... Surely all would be healed in life if only I had one big plate of lasagna and a simple loan of $40,000 ... auoughhh....

[your-lovely-ghost]

Day three of holding everyone’s laundry hostage until my father takes a shower.

The last of my father’s beloved white socks have fallen to the filth. There is little hope, and even less in terms of rest. The battle is ongoing, and it feels often that I am fighting alone. Morale is low; my ally in this conflict, mother, is injured. I long for the days when I can rest. When this war will cease, and all will be clean again. The dishes done, the people bathed, the laundry washed and folded. Alas. We know the struggle will never end.

I am Sisyphus, and my father’s horrid stench and apathy are forever my boulder.

My father is a war profiteer, and I am a hapless young recruit greeting a doomed mission.

Last shower date: December 25th, 2023

[keypostos]

caleb is 10 when he realizes that he's a physical touch fiend. the rush he gets when his hand lingers on top of your skin after playing with you is like no other. when he presses into your side while you're reading, his thoughts always circle around one topic: you, you, you. when you would run into his room after a nightmare, caleb was ready to swoop you in his arms and hold you until you fell asleep. every response towards you was involuntary.

caleb is 15 when he realizes that teasing 13-year-old you becomes irresistible. when he holds up your book, pencil, or some other item in the air, he watches as you jump up and down to try and grab it back. he's grown a lot in three years; if he had to estimate, he's a whole head taller than you now—20cm at least.

when you throw yourself onto him in an attempt to get your stuff back, he falters. you're laying against him on the couch, shuffling and moving up and down over his body, and caleb's breath hitches. you're so close and right there.

he's going insane. you can't even stand up for five seconds before caleb pulls you down against him once more, saying something about retaliation or revenge while tickling you to death.

caleb is 20 when he's about to leave for the DAA. there's an air of silence around the house. you've trapped yourself in your room more often, stressing over your senior finals. at least, that's what you've been telling him.

"i'm sorry caleb, i really need to study for this test."

"oh! i totally forgot about that project i had due tonight. shit, i'm sorry caleb. we'll have another movie night soon, okay?"

he doesn't know if you're actually this busy or if you're actually ignoring him. all he does know is that he misses you. he wonders about how he could miss someone who was in the room across from him. you were so close, but so far.

when you found out he was leaving—though you had a grin on your face while congratulating him—caleb knew you were devastated. he wondered if you were secretly mad at him for leaving.

two weeks before his departure, he practically forces you to be around him. he laid down next to you like before. he stroked your hair while you napped on the couch. he teased you and picked you up so you could hit him and grab him like you used to. he always chose to put his arm around you during a movie. he dragged you by the hand all around the neighborhood. he needed to all of that again, a thousand times more.

but at 24, it seems like there may have been a wedge between the two of you. calls are more and more infrequent.

"sorry, space signal sucks," he'd type.

"sorry, i was busy with training!" you'd reply, 2 days later.

he thinks that he would do anything to go back to before. he hasn't felt you in months. he sees you only twice a year.

it's hard. it was excruciating during the first few weeks. not only was he dealing with bootcamp, but he always found himself looking to his side, thinking you'd be there with him. at night, you were there, right next to him in bed.

he imagined that you would whisper words of reassurance in his ear. you'd hold onto him like you used to, when you had nightmares, and wrap your legs between his. there were days where we stroked his necklace, wishing that it was your hand instead. what he would give to have you next to him.

all he wants is to be able to feel you again. he chastises his 10-year-old self for taking you for granted back then. he wants to feel the apples of your cheeks when he caresses your face. once,—when he was 13 (you, 11)—he did that, and he thought you had a fever the way you warmed up. if he could, caleb would build a time machine to go back to that.

caleb is 25 when he is out of your life.

he thinks about you every day. it reminds him of when he was in bootcamp five years ago. it takes him back to when he was fifteen; you were on top of him, and his brain was fried to a crisp. caleb wonders if he's always been this way, because he can recall that at ten, you were still the only thing consuming his mind.

even during his arm repairs, you're there throughout all the pain.

when you discover his metal arm, all of caleb's instincts point to the door. he's spent so long trying to hide it from you: it's the constant long-sleeves (even though they made him incredibly uncomfortable), or making sure to only touch you with his left-hand (even though he wanted to pull you in with both hands).

but he stays. because it's you.

you freeze momentarily, listening to his writhes and moans of pain. caleb only notices you're there when he feels your hands brush his shoulder. he jolts back in surprise, and he sees you looming over him.

he stammers something, not even sure of what he said because you're here. you see him. you see it.

caleb's wanted this for so long. he wanted to see you again, in a state where you were both vulnerable, like old times. however, that moment probably wouldn't have come if he doesn't confess about this, so he relays the details.

you listen attentively, eyes wide with shock as caleb goes on. your hands wrap around his metal one, and he feels nothing. it's agonizing. he sees you examine him so gently. your fingers trace over bolts and plates of metal, lightly stroking up and down his arm. and caleb feels nothing.

how often has he dreamed of this? for you to be touching him again, so intimately and softly? he's stayed up countless nights wishing for you to be here, just so he can put his arms around you in a crushing embrace, only to be incapable of feeling you on one side of his body.

you pull away from his arm, asking if the fleet was accountable. when he doesn't say anything, he feels your weight lift off the bed and go towards the door.

whatever happens next is involuntary. he uses his flesh arm to pull you back, caging you between his forearm and his chest. there's no thought to it, no rationalization. it's just you and him. and he's been deprived of this for so long.

he breathes into the crevice of your neck, and he has half a mind to place his entire face there. he wants to breathe you in after being away from you for so long. no conversations, no contact, no touching. the last time he was this close to you was years ago. he needs this, caleb thinks.

the feel of you against his bare chest is something he cannot seem to describe. it's like he's his teenage (or even kid) self again, where he seems to short-circuit whenever he comes in contact with you. you're still small compared to him, but you fit perfectly like you did a decade ago.

he lets you go after he feels you trembling. you don't hesitate to place your hands on his waist and tackle him onto the bed. you catch him off-guard as you pin him beneath you, looking straight into his eyes.

"hold me," you plead, "with your right hand."

caleb lets out a shaky breath. there are voltages of electricity flowing through him—literally and figuratively. his skin sparks alive when he feels you. will it be the same with the metal arm?

slowly, caleb raises his mechanical arm. he wraps it around you, and feels the movement of your back shift downwards. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding. caleb held his.

you wait patiently before caleb starts running his metal hand up and down your back. you watch him exhale as he continues. you press your forehead on his, and you breathe in tandem with him.

caleb is 25 when he discovers that he loves physical touch.

wow like i didn't expect this to get so long... but like here we are???

i think we need to start embracing touch-starved caleb in all of our fics. this man hasn't seen the love of his life in YEARS (infrequently, anyway) so i think once she touches him (like INTIMATELY) for the first time in years he goes a little cray.

also sorry the ending was rushed i wanted to get this over with bc i intented this to be like 500 words but obviously it got way longer than that. what can i say... this freak has dug into my brain.

[valandherweekofwonders]

came up with the script i wish i could yell at my parents while walking home. they've gotten so much worse in the last half year and i need to fucking escape !!!!!!!! it is not fucking healthy or sustainable to live like this, to be in this environment.

[adoringmha]

reading this again made me think of katuski who really just needs your kisses throughout the day. like, it's a part of his routine, and once he adds something to his strict regime, it becomes essential, and his whole day feels off without it.

so even when you're both mad at each other over some petty argument, he can't leave the house without a kiss goodbye. he'll grumble and come up to you while you're on your laptop, blatantly ignoring him.

he stands there, grinding his teeth, as he glares down at you. you look ahead, still not sparing him a glance, and blink a few times in annoyance when he stays silent for a whole 30 seconds.

"can i help you?" your voice is tight, as you roll your eyes.

"i'm leavin."

"okay?" you answer, clipped, silently and secretly cursing at yourself for pushing him away when you know what he wants (it's what you want too). you're just too stubborn, sometimes more than him.

he shifts on his feet. "i'm leaving." his voice is quiet, slightly timid, but still stiff. you know he's pouting internally.

his eyes are burning onto your face with how hard he's staring, a silent demand (plea) in his gaze and presence.

you glance up at him and feel your resolve cracking, no matter how much you want to grab the pieces and jam them back together to stand your ground.

you manage to glare at him for a solid five seconds before you look away and give in. but you're still stubborn about the way you do.

"i'm not getting up." you still keep your gaze away from him, because you know if you do, you'll want to give in even further and wrap yourself around him like a koala, like a moth to a flame.

he responds like a petulant child needing to get the last word in as he bends down, "didn't say you had to."

his eyes glance over your face and he bites his tongue to not say anything snarky to make you change your mind. his hand lightly tilts your head and he presses his lips against yours sweetly, despite the tension (that's slowly dissipating) between you two.

he gives you a sweet, long kiss, it's an apology, a reminder that he loves you, and a goodbye to keep him going for the rest of the day.

your hand comes up to rest on his that's still holding you in place, his thumb absentmindedly running light circles on your cheek. you can practically feel yourself getting lighter, looser.

when he pulls away, you can almost feel the cord of tension wanting to pull the two of you together again for another kiss, but you both fight it. he takes his time letting his hand slide away from you and the both of you stare into each others eyes for a few seconds before he clears his throat.

"i'll see you." his voice is quieter than before, barely a whisper.

you lick your lips and his eyes catch onto the motion. "be safe."

he stands up straight and nods slightly. "always."

and okay, you won't admit it but maybe, you needed the kiss just as much as him. it is a part of your routine after all.