#7/10 purple content

[purple-content-rater]

Hello there! This is a blog where i rate the content of purple in an image. The more purple and better use of purple will net you a higher rating. I will mostly rate images, sometimes videos or text.

Feel free to tag me or use my askbox to submit any of the above categories

An example of rated purple content:

Lots of purple!

Not much content

7/10

Asks are usually open, if not ill like say something or edit this post again i guess idk.

Thanks for reading!

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

Summary: June brings the end of Harris's preschool career and the official beginning of your new life as a family of three--with a little help from your friends, of course.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (f! receiving), p in v, mentions of phone sex, grief and loss

WC: 7.8k

Chapter 20/20

A/N: With the official end of Trapped Under Ice, I am now opening up requests in the TUI universe. Thank you all for taking this journey with me as I processed my own grief. As long as you keep requesting, I will continue writing for our little family 💚

Thank you to @rip-quizilla for making that scene stronger. Ily, bb.

Divider credit to @saradika

The diner is bustling with customers, happily chatting over stacks of pancakes and overstuffed omelets. Coffee carafes clink against chipped mugs as the waitstaff pours refill after refill. 

You weave through the rows of tables, careful not to bump into servers balancing trays of food or busboys carrying the used dishes and silverware. A small yellow gift bag is clutched in your hand, and you hold it to your chest to protect its fragile contents. 

Harris spots you before you can see him; his little arm shoots up from where he’s tucked into the booth next to Wayne. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he frantically waves, his grin wide enough to stretch off of his cheeks. “Over here!”

You laugh, watching as Eddie scoots from the middle of the seat to the end, making room for you to sit down. There are two steaming cups on his side of the table, centered on little saucers that are likely older than you are. 

“Morning, baby,” he greets you with a smile, leaning in to give you a small kiss—no tongue, of course—as you slide in next to him. “You sleep okay last night?”

You nod sheepishly, remembering the phone conversation the two of you had had, well after Harris fell asleep. Eddie’s sultry voice had guided you through touching yourself; the next-best thing to having his own fingers inside you. 

“Wish I could be there right now,” he’d murmured into the receiver, so low that you could barely hear him. The faint sound of his own fly being lowered punctuated his words. “Wanna make you feel so good, Sweetheart, but I know you’re being a good girl f’me tonight, aren’t you?”

You bring the coffee mug to your lips, hoping to blame the heat creeping up your face on the drink, and take a hearty sip. It’s a little sweet, but mostly bitter. Just how you like it. 

The crinkling tissue paper as you lean back in the booth draws your attention to your company and away from your indulgent memories. “Happy Father’s Day, Eddie,” you kiss him on the cheek, your lipstick tinting his stubble pink. “This is from me and Harris. Be careful with it.” There’s a deliberate vagueness in your warning, not wanting to spoil the surprise. 

Eddie cocks his brow, clearly not expecting any sort of present from you. Shocking, considering you’d taken Harris to the Paint-n-Play on Wednesday during your usual tutoring session time, and you’d figured he would have spilled the beans as soon as he and his dad had a moment alone. He rustles around the bag with dramatic flourish, trying to build anticipation but only succeeding in testing Harris’s patience.

“Open it, Daddy! Open it!” Harris bounces up and down in his seat, mouth sticky and teeth tinted purple with grape juice as he urges Eddie to stop dragging out the process. Wayne discreetly places his palm behind his grandson’s scalp, protecting his head in case he rocks too far back. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart did it together!”

“You did, huh?” Eddie chuckles, pulling out a ceramic mug. It’s painted sky blue, and Harris had insisted on making purple polka dots, splotchy as he’d haphazardly dunked the brush in paint and pressed it to the plaster. Written in bright orange blocky letters is DAD; you’d helped him sound out duhh-ahhh-duhh, his little tongue poking out in complete concentration. Your only visible contribution is the tiny green 1997 painted along the handle, marking the first year you’d celebrated Father’s Day together.

The multitude of complementary colors and mismatched designs should clash. The dots look more like disfigured spiders than circles. The 7 you’d carefully written with a fine-tipped brush is slightly smudged from where Harris had picked up the mug before it had fully dried, and there’s an extra curving line extending from the first D in DAD after he’d started writing the letter backwards.

To Eddie, it’s perfect.

“I love it.” Brown eyes find his son’s hopeful gaze that eagerly awaits his father’s reaction. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.” He places the mug on the table next to the coffee-filled one in front of him, tipping its contents into his gift. A few drops dribble down the side, but most of it ends up where it should. A success, in his opinion. He takes a hearty gulp, not caring that the hot liquid singes his taste buds. “Is this magic?” He holds the mug up to his face, studying it like it’s a precious stone. “Because, I swear, it makes this coffee taste better.”

The little boy beams, exchanging an elated glance with you. “Ms. Sweetheart, did you put magic in it?”

Eddie chimes in before you can respond. “I bet she did. She’s sneaky with it; always sprinkling it where you least expect.” His empty hand finds your thigh underneath the table, silently claiming it as his own. “I don’t know how she does it,” he muses wistfully, adding another sugar packet to the mug and swirling it with a spoon until it’s dissolved. Like it was always part of the coffee from the jump. 

“Speaking of presents,” Wayne chimes in, unearthing a tiny, newspaper-wrapped package from his jacket pocket and handing it to his nephew. “‘S, not much, but it’s a Father’s-Day-slash-housewarming gift for ya.” 

“I thought we agreed on no gifts,” Eddie shakes his head, suddenly self-conscious about arriving empty-handed. 

“Well, I lied.”

Wayne watches as Eddie tears into the paper. Whatever home run or double-header had made the front page of the sports section is irrelevant compared to the mystery item that is snugly tucked between baseball stats and the upcoming game schedule. 

A small gasp leaves his mouth as he unwraps a wallet-sized picture frame; the word family is etched into the wood right above the plastic-protected photo. 

It’s from Harris’s bowling party; the one Wayne had taken of you and Eddie on either side of the birthday boy. Happiness radiates off of the three of you with such intensity that it seems impossible for it to be captured in a still frame. He’d forgotten that Wayne had even snapped it.

“Wayne, I…” Eddie struggles to find the words he needs to properly convey his feelings. The tip of his nose burns with the anticipated influx of emotions. “I’m gonna put it right next to my alarm clock, so it’s the first thing I see every morning.” 

You lay your head on his shoulder, the edge of his lips finding your forehead in a half-kiss. He soaks in the comfort you bring, absorbing it through every pore as he exhales and feels himself relax.

The waitress comes over with a notepad and a smile. “You folks ready to order?” She clicks her pen, poised to jot down what the four of you want to eat.

“Chicken fingers, please!” Harris announces, perching up on his knees and leaning his elbows on the table. “With French fries!”

The waitress, whose name tag reads Bee, offers a sympathetic smile and a soft click of her tongue. “I’m sorry, buddy. We don’t start serving lunch until 11:30.”

The boy’s lower lip quivers at the news, having his heart set on eating his favorite food. You can see his perfectly curated routine begin to crumble, taking his excitement with it. “But…but I even said ‘please!’” he insists, voice cracking. 

You step in quickly, wanting to salvage the Father’s Day celebration before Hurricane Harris can brew up a storm. “Hey, Har, I know you’re disappointed about the chicken fingers, but I have a super special idea.”

“Wh-What?” Misty eyes indicate that tears still threaten to spill over his lashes. 

“When Grandma used to take me to the diner, we used to split silver dollars. They’re pancakes, just smaller.” You take a deep breath and smile, hoping and praying that your plan works. “Would you like to share some silver dollars with me? And we can come back and get chicken fingers another time.”

Harris considers your proposition, rubbing his hands together along his knuckles to soothe himself. Finally, he says, “Can we eat them with syrup?”

“That sounds delicious.” You lean over and ruffle his hair, careful not to let any loose strands land on the table. “You wanna tell the waitress?”

“Mmkay,” he nods, turning to Bee and smiling. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are gonna have the, um, little pancakes.” He frowns, unable to remember the dish’s name. “The dollars?”

Bee laughs and nods, jotting it on her notepad. “An order of silver dollar pancakes, coming right up. And for you gentlemen?” She brings her attention to Eddie and Wayne. 

The older man clears his throat, ordering a Western omelet with home fries and rye toast. Eddie asks for the same but with white bread. “And a refill on the coffee,” he adds. 

Bee promises to be back shortly with the food, and the four of you resume your conversation. 

“We’ll get to take a new picture next week at someone’s graduation,” you say with a smile, looking in Harris’s direction. “Are you excited, Har Bear?”

Harris takes another messy sip of grape juice. “Uh-huh. I’m gonna go to kindergarten soon! But first is summer.” 

“Summer first, then kindergarten,” you agree, sipping your coffee before it gets cold. You’re no stranger to it, often setting down your to-go cup at work and forgetting about it until well after morning circle time, but you relish any chance you get to enjoy it while it’s still warm. “I was thinking: once you and Daddy are all moved in, we should make plans for this summer. Like the zoo, or the pool…”

“Yeah!” Harris claps his hands together and grins. “Or Disney World!”

Eddie’s ears perk up at his son’s suggestion. “Not this year, but maybe soon.” If he can continue moving up the ranks at the record store, coupled with the two of you splitting rent, it might even happen next year, but he doesn’t want to make a promise he can’t guarantee he’ll keep. “And we’ll drag Grampa Wayne with us.”

Wayne responds with a shake of his head. “You’re outta your mind if you think I’m goin’ on any of those roller coasters.”

“You’re gonna sit and ride It’s a Small World the whole day?” Eddie teases, leaning back in his seat. 

“Damn straight.”

The food comes out ten minutes later, steaming plates carefully placed on the table. You cut the silver dollar pancakes into bite-size pieces, pushing half to the side nearest Harris and the other half closest to you. A glass syrup carafe waits to be used, its handle sticky with residue. 

“Say when,” you tell Harris, drizzling it back and forth across the plate. He waits until the pancakes are drenched before stopping you.

You watch as he uses his fork to spear some pancake, pops it in his mouth, and chews thoughtfully. “It’s yummy!” he declares triumphantly, already scanning the plate for his next piece. “This is my favorite food ever!”

You, Eddie, and Wayne share smiles; none of you take his declaration too seriously, knowing he changes his favorite anythings on an hourly basis. Still, a win is a win, and avoiding a chicken finger-induced tantrum is no small feat. 

Eddie spreads a pat of butter over his toast, but his eyes never shift from you and Harris sharing breakfast. You’d asked him whether he prefers blueberries or chocolate chips in his pancakes, and the discussion quickly devolved into a competition to see who could come up with the grossest pancake addition. 

“How about…” Harris wiggles his nose, “broccoli pancakes?”

“Ew!” You stick out your tongue in disgust. “That was a good one, but I think I can top it. Would you eat…” you tap your chin in contemplation, “fish stick pancakes!”

Harris squeals, far from an inside voice, but no one wants to correct him. “That’s super yucky! Fish stick pancakes?!”

Eddie smiles, tucking into his own food. He wants to savor the joy, the warmth. The twinkle in Wayne’s eyes, the upturned corners of Harris’s lips, the trill of your laugh. He wishes he could capture the feeling, but a mental image will have to do. 

He inhales and allows himself to be wrapped in the unconditional love he had once convinced himself he didn’t want nor deserve. 

The Hawkins Preschool cafeteria has once again been transformed. The custodians folded the long tables, propping them against the wall, and set up rows of folding chairs, leaving a small aisle for the graduates’ families to find their seats. 

Other parents stare as Eddie walks in, perspiration prickling under his arms as he hears them whispering about the kid who ran away. It’s audible enough for Wayne to hear; he rests his hand on his nephew’s shoulder and gives it a small squeeze before they take their seats. 

Jeff and Dustin arrive a few moments later, noticing Eddie and Wayne in the small crowd and shuffling over. Eddie pulls them each in for a quick hug, and Wayne does the same.

“Glad we made it,” Dustin says with a sigh of relief. “My flight got delayed half an hour, but we made up the time in the air.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “It didn’t help that we had to stop at a payphone so you could call your precious Suzie-Poo,” he huffs, but there’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips, proud of the way his friend cares so deeply for his partner. “Anyway, we’re here now.” He takes a seat next to Wayne, shifting so he can speak to Eddie. “Is Harris excited to graduate?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie laughs, shaking his head at the recent memory of his son prancing around the apartment that morning in his cap and gown, small body drowning in the flowing green fabric. In that instant, Eddie could picture him as a young man, crossing a much larger stage to receive his diploma from Hawkins High. If Higgins is still the principal, Eddie might have to teach Harris the family tradition of flipping him off. 

Sue Sinclair makes her way up the small staircase to the podium, adjusting the microphone so she speaks into it easily. “Good morning, parents, siblings, and other special guests. Welcome to Hawkins Preschool’s Moving Up ceremony.” She beams, holding for applause. Eddie eases back into his seat; he’s known Principal Sinclair for years, since Lucas had joined Hellfire, and she’d recently stepped up to take over teaching Harris’s class for the remaining weeks of the school year. After the little boy had given his statement to the police, Marion and Paula’s teaching licenses had been immediately terminated, and negligence charges were currently pending.

“Before we get started, I’d just like to make an announcement.” Sue Sinclair looks over to where your class is standing, patiently waiting their turn to receive their sticker-laden diplomas. “I am pleased to announce that our very own Mr. Will Byers,” she extends her hand in Will’s direction, “will be our newest head teacher starting this fall.”

Though everyone in attendance is clapping, it’s obvious that Eddie, Wayne, Jeff, and Dustin cheer the loudest. Will blushes red, unused to being the center of attention, but the smile on his face shows how excited he is to take on this new role. You wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind and pull him in for a proud hug.

“Our students have worked incredibly hard this year, learning their letters, numbers, and how to be a good friend,” the principal continues. “And though we will miss them dearly, we are thrilled to send them off to kindergarten with these new skills. So, without further ado, let’s bring out our graduates!”

The ceremony begins, starting with your class. You stand at one end of the stage, sending each student off to where Will is waiting at the other end as Principal Sinclair reads out each of their names. They take their certificates and pose with baby teeth on full display while their parents snap photos from disposable Kodaks and bulky Nikons. All the seemingly endless days, the menial fights over sharing toys; every moment was worth it if it led to this.

You usher the kids to their seats in the front row after your final student’s name is called, spotting Eddie in the crowd as you sit down. He winks, the corner of his eye mischievously crinkling. You smile, taking full advantage of the other parents’ distractedness and give him a little wave; the exchange a private love letter.

Both of you bring your attention back to the stage when Sue Sinclair calls up the next class. Harris stands towards the center of the line, excitement buzzing through him at a rate that cannot be contained. He rocks from the balls of his feet to his heels, back and forth as he awaits his turn. His brown ringlets poke out from underneath his cap, grazing just above his eyebrows. 

Principal Sinclair pauses, looking directly at Eddie when she speaks. She understands the gravity of this accomplishment, her lipsticked smile reaching her eyes as she leans in towards the microphone.

“Harris Munson!”

Eddie jumps up, hollering as loud as his vocal cords will allow. Harris accepts his diploma and smiles wide, both at his accomplishment and at the sound of his dad cheering him on. His expression further brightens when he sees Wayne, Dustin, and Jeff beside him, and he waves while jumping up and down.

He’s supposed to walk from stage left to stage right, just as all the students before him have done; in typical Harris fashion, he takes the road less traveled. With a mighty leap, he catapults himself off of the stage and makes a beeline straight for you.

Two little arms wrap themselves around you, squeezing you as tight as they can. The brim of his cap is flush against your cheek. “I did it, Ms. Sweetheart!” His words carry a lightheartedness that only a child’s joy can bring. “Did you see?” He picks his head up from where it was nestled against you and giggles, dimpled chin brushing your bicep.

You tilt the mortarboard slightly upward and press a kiss to his forehead. “I saw, Har,” you tell him, using your thumb to wipe away your lipstick print, “and I am so, so proud of you.” Readjusting his cap, you usher him over to where the rest of his class is standing, a garden of happiness blooming within you. 

You look back at where Eddie is sitting, wishing you could sit next to him, fingers laced together while his thumb caresses the side of your hand and grasping your hand tighter when Harris’s name is called. For now, it’s enough to know that you’ll be by his side throughout all of Harris’s future endeavors and accomplishments. A team. 

Eddie’s palms press into his slack-covered thighs as he peers over at you and grins. Bright, adoring eyes meet yours, speaking every thought that his mouth can’t say right now. I love you. Thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you.

You accept the wordless praise with a smile, one that reaches beyond its usual confines. 

Dustin notices the small exchange, and he nudges Eddie’s ribs with his elbow. “She’s the one, huh?” He cocks his eyebrow knowingly. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie murmurs, no longer paying any attention to the remaining names being read aloud. “You ever think you’d see the day I settle down?” His tone is teasing, but there’s an ounce of insecurity behind them. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Dustin nods without hesitation. “Always knew you would.” Carol Perkins shushes him from the row ahead, but he just flips her off and rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t you remember that time in high school when we got sloshed—sorry, Wayne,” Jeff cuts in sheepishly, “and you went on a rant about how you secretly wanted the whole wife, kids, picket fence deal?”

“And I believe I threatened to kick your ass if you told anyone,” Eddie points out, embarrassment turning his face red, apparent even under the light stubble covering his cheeks. 

Wayne chuckles softly. “I already knew. About the dream and the booze.” He laughs a bit harder at Jeff and Eddie’s shocked expressions. “If you keep replacing vodka with water, eventually, it’s all just water.”

“Ya don’t say.” Dustin’s sarcasm bleeds through his whisper. 

Principal Sinclair reads the last student’s name with the same enthusiasm she’s given all of the other kids. “I now present to you, the Hawkins Preschool class of 1997!” She mimes tossing a cap in the air, the students’ cue to do the same. 

The fervor of the cheers and applause could shake the cafeteria. Whistles pierce the air and reverberate off of the walls, none louder than Wayne Munson’s. You stand up, smoothing the pleats of your dress to soak in the achievement of completing another academic year; for you, this one in a brand new school with more challenges than you’d cared to endure. 

You and Will take in the sight of nine cherubic faces looking up at you in admiration, though they’re beginning to shed their baby fat. This was certainly a journey, and you couldn’t have asked for a better teaching assistant to walk beside you through it all. 

“I’m gonna miss you next year,” you say, squeezing him in a tight hug. 

“I’ll be right down the hall!”

Begrudgingly, you let go of him, not losing the pout on your lips. “That’s way too far for me.” The two of you both know that you’re serious; it won’t be the same without having him in the classroom with you. “Can we try to match up our breaks and eat lunch together?”

“It’s a date,” Will laughs, then juts out his chin to motion behind you, “but it looks like I might have some competition.”

Before you can turn around, Eddie’s arms wrap around your waist. He tugs you in close so your back is flush against his chest, the buttons from his shirt pressing into your spine. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs in your ear, lips so close that they brush the lobe. “Are you ready to start your summer?”

You kiss his cheek, adjusting your stance so you can walk hand in hand to get Harris. He torpedoes himself into Eddie’s stomach, shrieking with laughter as he’s lifted into the air. 

“Har Bear, you’re a preschool graduate!” Eddie smacks a kiss to his son’s temple. “How should we celebrate, hmm? Ice cream? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Ice cream!” Harris decides easily. “I’m gonna get cotton candy with rainbow sprinkles and—Uncle Dusty!” He squirms out of Eddie’s grasp and races over to Dustin. 

“What? I’m not an ice cream topping!” Dustin teases, crouching down to ruffle Harris’s curls, matted to his scalp from being hidden underneath the cap. 

Harris giggles. “You’re so silly!” He glances back and forth from him to you, and you realize he doesn’t know that you’d met in March at Will’s birthday party. “Uncle Dusty, this is Ms. Sweetheart. She’s my almost-mommy.”

“Ohh,” Dustin replies with a smirk, raising his eyebrows and nodding. “I think she needs to be your dad’s almost-wife first–”

“All right! Ice cream time!” Eddie hurries to cut him off, glaring at Dustin for bringing the idea to Harris’s attention again; he has constantly been hounding him about marriage ever since he found out about his newest living arrangements. The idea of marrying you, however, eases his tension and has a smile tugging on his lips; a slight switch in expression that his uncle spots easily.

Wayne’s gruff whisper is in Eddie’s ear. “Sounds like it’s time for an almost-proposal.”

“Shut up!”

“I think that’s the last of them!” Jeff calls out, lugging the final cardboard box from his car into your apartment. He wipes his hands on his jeans and closes the door behind him, careful not to wake up his sleeping daughter in Viv’s arms. He looks over at where you, Robin, and Jess have begun unpacking, laying Eddie’s clothes in one pile and Harris’s much smaller clothes in another.

Jeff places a kiss on the crown of Viv’s head, then plants an identical one on Ettie’s. “Where are the guys?” 

“Harris’s room,” you say; bittersweet taste tinging the new label. It feels better than Grandma’s old room, but part of it will always belong to her. You hear Harris giggle as Eddie and Dustin re-assemble his racecar bed, spreading warmth that gently softens the sadness until it resembles sentimentality. “I’ll come with you; I have to put this away, anyway.” You grab the pile of Harris’s clothes and tuck it under your arm.

Eddie and Dustin sit on the floor, rogue screws spread around them as they intently study their project.

“I think this piece,” Dustin muses, picking up one of the sides of the frame, “connects with this one like that…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, it’s the other way around.” He takes the screwdriver and twists the metal into the slot triumphantly. Your breath catches in your throat as his bicep flexes with the motion, perfectly displayed where his t-shirt sleeve had been cut into a makeshift tank top. “There we go.” He looks up and realizes you’re there, perfectly still as you watch him. “Hey, Sweetheart. Y’good?” There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eye; though it was inadvertent, he knows what he’s doing to you.

You only nod, the movement dragging you out of your momentary stupor. He chuckles as you place Harris’s shirts and pants in the dresser, fingers clumsily slipping over the knobs. It’s the same unicorn-covered dresser that had sent Harris into hysterics a few weeks ago, but you’d painted over it before he could see. It’s now a dark navy blue, no evidence of what once lay beneath.

Eddie’s amused by your reaction and subsequent embarrassment, running his tongue over his teeth and chuckling to himself, but his victory is short-lived.

“Hey, Casanova,” Dustin’s exasperated voice cuts in, pointing to the section Eddie just assembled, “you put the piece on upside down.”

Harris crinkles his nose. “What’s Casanova?”

Eddie buries his head in his hands as Dustin scrambles to explain. “It means your dad is trying to show off his handyman skills for your almost-mommy.” He winks in Eddie’s direction before leaning in and exaggeratedly whispering in Harris’s ear, “but he’s not doing a very good job.”

As soon as Harris distracts himself with setting up his toys, Eddie is saluting his friend with a quick flip of his middle finger.

You crouch down, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “Don’t worry; I’m very impressed.” He blushes when you kiss his cheek. “Your uncle’s going to be here with dinner in a few minutes, if you burly men want to wash up.”

Eddie nods, turning to his friends and his son and speaking in a deep baritone. “You heard the woman! Let us refuel so we may regain our strength for hunting and other masculine activities.”

Harris’s brows pinch together in further confusion while you and Dustin share an eyeroll, but the three of you follow your fearless leader out of the room. Eddie lets the two of them pass and waits for you, sliding a coy hand in your back pocket and murmuring against your hair. “Man and woman make fire in bedroom later?” He continues using the deepened voice.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“That’s…that’s not a no, though, right?”

The summer sun is still high in the sky when Wayne arrives at the apartment, three pizza boxes still warm in his palms. He’s barely able to put them on the table before Harris is racing towards him, ready to give a full report of the goings-on of his day. 

Jess sits at the table, baby Ettie laying in her arms while she gives Viv a break and feeds her from a bottle. You place a piece of pizza on the paper plate in front of her, and one in front of Robin, who adoringly watches her girlfriend dote on a baby. Wayne sits in the third seat, thanking you with his kind smile as you pass him a slice.

You join Eddie and Harris on the couch; Jeff plops down in the La-Z-Boy on the other side of the coffee table, motioning for Viv to sit atop his legs, while Dustin has seemingly been relegated to sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“Uncle Dusty, come sit next to me!” Harris chirps, nearly knocking your plate out of your hand as he bounces onto your lap. His curls tickle your chin as he leans over to take a bite of his dinner, dragging the cheese halfway off of the crust before Eddie holds it in place. 

Dustin obliges, squishing in next to you with an apologetic laugh, but you don’t mind. Dialogue melds together, with people seamlessly leaping from one conversation to another. Robin poses the question of what everyone thinks Ettie’s first word will be, which prompts Wayne to tell the story about how Eddie tried so hard to get Harris to say dada, only for the boy to scream out “SHIT!” in the middle of Bradley’s Big Buy. 

Jeff looks across the room at his tiny daughter. “Please don’t let that be your first word,” he jokingly begs her, picking a greasy pepperoni piece from his slice and dropping it in his mouth. While he’s preoccupied, Viv steals a bite of the crust. 

“Are you all going to the July 4th carnival next week?” Eddie asks through a cheesy mouthful. 

Everyone except Dustin answers in the affirmative. “Flying back home tomorrow,” he says, a round of booing from the group forcing him to pause mid-statement, “but Suzie and I are—hey, not cool!” He swats at a crumpled napkin that Eddie lobs at his head. “Suzie and I are going to try and visit for my mom’s birthday in August,” he finishes with a pointed look. 

Harris tilts his head back so you can see straight into his flared nostrils. “Ms. Sweetheart, you’re coming to the carnival with us, right?”

“Of course! What rides are we gonna go on?” you ask, his little feet kicking at your calves as joy flows through his body. 

“The Ferris Wheel! Me an’ Daddy always go on that, an’ now you can come with us!”

He and Eddie always go on the Ferris Wheel. It’s a tradition that they share, and now they’re allowing you in. Now you’re part of it. 

You smile, kissing his forehead in a celebration of belonging and delight. “That sounds like a lot of fun,” you agree. “Do you think Daddy will play the games and win a prize for us?”

Eddie groans at your suggestion. “Those booths are all rigged. Every last one of ‘em.”

“I dunno,” Jess says teasingly, wiping Ettie’s chin with a cloth bib, “I won a stuffed animal from the whack-a-mole last year—”

“Oh, yeah! And I beat the Test Your Strength one,” Jeff adds slyly, getting a rise out of proving Eddie wrong. 

Eddie throws his voice to a falsetto, mocking his friend’s words. “I beat the Test Your Strength one,” he echoes nasally, chuckling when Jeff scoops up the napkin previously thrown at Dustin and hurls it towards Eddie. 

The rest of the evening continues like this, silly banter and recalled stories that end up being cut short or watered down for the impressionable ears listening in. It’s love in its many forms: between partners, between parents and their children, between friends. Each peal of laughter, each shared smile, each memory made adds to its foundation; brick by brick, layer by layer. 

The pink hues of sunset darken to indigo and eventually settle into a night sky, the moon shining brightly and unobscured by clouds. Eddie, Jeff, and Dustin finally manage to put the race car bed back together—and just in time. Harris’s yawns become more frequent until he can no longer fight sleep, dozing off with his cheek pressed against your chest. Soft snores leave his slightly agape mouth. 

“I feel the same way,” Wayne jokes, standing up from his chair and stretching his back with a grimace. “It’s been a long day.”

The group nods in agreement, quietly gathering their belongings and saying good-bye. 

“Thank you all for helping today,” you say, handing out hugs while keeping Harris sound asleep. He stirs but doesn’t fully wake up, even with all of the commotion. “We really appreciate it.”

Eddie seconds your sentiment. “It means a lot to us. We know we owe you a lot more than just dinner—”

“You guys are family,” Viv interrupts with a smile, gently rocking a sleeping Ettie in her arms. “This is what family does.”

A calloused hand rests on your shoulder from behind the couch; you lean your head on Eddie’s forearm and give it a small kiss. The delicate hairs brush against your lips, and you relax into his touch.

Your guests file out, already making plans to meet up at the carnival. Eddie closes the door behind them, insisting that he can beat Jeff at the Test Your Strength and demanding that his friend buy him a funnel cake when he does.

There’s a soft murmuring coming from Harris’s room, and Eddie walks as quietly as he can. He watches silently, shoulder pressed against the doorframe, as you place his son’s head onto the pillow. The crisp sheet is draped over his sleeping body, followed by the Buzz Lightyear comforter you’d bought at Kmart especially for him. Harris stirs for a moment to grab onto the blankets, tugging them to his chin and scrunching up his legs to assume a cozier position. He lets out a content sigh and slips back into his dream.

“Good night, kiddo,” you whisper, kissing his mop of curls. You look around the room, so different from when it belonged to Grandma. It seems larger, his race car bed taking up much less space than her queen-size bed did. A Lego set lies where her shoe rack once stood. The top of his dresser is covered in Hot Wheels, rather than the makeup and jewelry that Grandma had on hers. 

But it’s a good kind of different, one that comes with the natural ebb and flow of life. It brings inevitable change, and it’s your choice whether to embrace it or run away.

“You’re a natural at this bedtime thing, y’know.” Eddie’s voice, low and soft, places you back in the moment. He holds his arms out for you to nestle into them, holding you as close as he can. His thumb caresses your shoulder blade. “It normally takes a couple of stories, half a dozen pee breaks, and a horse tranquilizer to get him down.”

“I think being completely exhausted from moving helped,” you laugh into his chest. “And I’m right there with him. Man and woman might have to postpone their fire-making.”

Eddie’s chuckle vibrates against you. “Yeah, it wouldn’t be my best performance. Wanna make this one really good, since it’s a special occasion and everything.” He closes Harris’s door and leads you to the bedroom you two now share. “We gotta christen this bad boy.”

“We’ve had sex on this bed a million times.” You recall the ways his lips traced over your body, eager to memorize every inch of skin. 

“But that’s when it was only your bed,” he points out. “Now it’s ours.”

Ours. Our bed, our home, our family. Ours. 

You can barely change into pajamas before you’re falling asleep; Eddie manages to slip off his jeans and shirt, clad in plaid boxers and nothing else, before crashing down into the bed you now share. His arm slips around your waist, fingers reflexively dancing up your shirt, while he buries his head in the nape of your neck. 

When daylight breaks and the sun streams through the gaps in the blinds, Eddie has assumed a starfish position, blankets flung to the edge of the bed in what must have been a middle-of-the-night move. You’re still dozing, but he knows he has to wake you if he wants to sneak in some alone time before his son wakes up.

“Morning, gorgeous.” His breath tickles under your earlobe, pulling you close to him. You hum, not quite awake but no longer dreaming. “C’mon, wake up, pretty thing.” He licks his lips before kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder blades. 

Wiping sleep from your eyes, you turn over and face him. Your mouth lazily finds his, the cotton fabric of your pajama top fisted in his grasp. The outline of his morning wood is visible through his boxer shorts; it presses into your thigh as though greedily searching for your warmth. “You always wake up this hard?” you tease, fingertips already fiddling with the worn elastic waistband and dipping towards the treasure beneath. The scruff of his pubic hair grazes your knuckles. 

“Only when I dream of you,” he mumbles with a cheeky grin, climbing on top of you while shedding his only clothing article. The boxers fall to the floor unceremoniously. 

“Smooth.”

“I thought so.” Both hands cup your cheeks; you expect him to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Love waking up next to you.”

It draws a memory of the first morning you’d spent together; an inadvertent sleepover that culminated in one poorly-crafted lie and two broken hearts. He looks at you now, tired and yet still beautiful. How could I have let her slip by? How did I almost miss all of this?

You take the lead this time, arching your back so your torso melds into his, connected by desire. Eddie has your tank top off in a heartbeat, tongue swiping over your nipples the instant they’re visible. 

“Perfect,” Eddie groans, making his way down your abdomen. He places your legs on top of his shoulders, lips delicately fluttering over your clit so he can lick a broad stripe up your labia. “I know we should be having a quickie, but I can’t turn down breakfast in bed.” His face is buried in your pussy, inhaling your scent and committing it to memory. 

You giggle at his phrasing. If you question it, you know he’ll make a comment about you being good enough to eat. You give in instead, letting him ravish you just the way you both crave. 

One finger, then two, slip into your waiting cunt while his mouth focuses on your clit. You’re dripping with your arousal and his saliva; you bite your lower lip to stifle the noises begging to be heard. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” you croak, trying to keep your voice down. “I’m so close, s-so close…”

Eddie says nothing, continuing to worship the taste of you. You can feel his victorious smile as you cry out his name in orgasmic bliss, toes flexing just as he brings you down from the high. 

“Need you, fuckin’ Christ,” he breathes, tempering the stimulation pulsing through his cock with a few short tugs. 

You nod, already electrified at the prospect of being split open on him. He sinks into you with a muted moan, savoring the way you envelop him within your warmth. “All mine, Sweetheart; you’re all mine.”

“Mhm,” you manage. Your fingernails dig into his upper back with a force that will surely leave crescent indents in his skin. “I’m all yours. Always will be.”

His thumb runs along your jaw and he smiles. She’s all mine.

The ridges of his dick form a delectable friction along your walls. Each thrust is a mutual give and take, an exchanging of selves with every breath. 

“I love you.” Eddie’s impossibly beautiful like this, hands holding your hips steady while sweat drips from his forehead onto yours. He brings your fourth finger between his lips; you can feel his tongue claiming it as his own. “And I’m gonna put a ring on this pretty little finger of yours, okay? Just want it to be perfect for you.”

You weave your fingers into his sleep-mussed curls and kiss him. “Don’t need perfect. I’ll marry you without a ring.” Whatever elaborate fairytale wedding you’d been crafting in your head is suddenly wholly unnecessary; all that matters is that you and Eddie commit to one another. But you know him well enough to not question his devotion to you. If Eddie Munson wants to give you the proposal of a lifetime, then that’s what he’s going to do. 

There will be no unkept promises this morning, no shattered hearts to mend.

He can’t hold back any longer, spilling into you with punctuating grunts. You receive every last drop gratefully, a part of him within you, and you finish for the second time today. 

“I meant it.” He gently withdraws from inside you, both of you mourning the loss of the other’s body. “When I said I’m gonna marry you, I meant it.”

“I know.”

“Good.” Eddie grins, laying on his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Sweat glistens along the sparse hairs curling over his bare chest. “Are you hungry? I know I worked up an appetite.”

You kiss his nose, biting the end teasingly. He yelps in mock pain, so you kiss it again. “I am, but I have to be honest—between all the unpacking and sex, I don’t have the energy to make breakfast.” 

“Me neither,” he admits with a laugh. “Why don’t we shower, wake up Sleeping Beauty,” he nudges his head towards Harris’s room, “and go to the diner.” He stretches and stands, eyes drawn to the nightstand, where the framed photo from Wayne leans against a porcelain lamp. Happiness captured with the click of a Kodak.

You’re smiling, thinking about sharing silver dollar pancakes with Harris again just like you used to do with Grandma. Somewhere along the way, you grew from the child to the adult in that scenario, passing on a tradition you never even knew had been started. 

“That sounds amazing.” As you say it aloud, something in addition to hunger gnaws at your stomach. You’ve been putting it off, hiding from the truth, but you want to stop pretending. You want to feel everything that comes with accepting reality. Without sorrow, you would never recognize joy. Without grief, you won’t understand the depths of our love beyond the physical plain. 

“Could we make a quick pit stop first?”

Though it’s still morning, the late June humidity has your shirt clinging to you, sweat beading along the collar and around your bra clasp. You close the car door behind you; Eddie shuffles to open the back door for Harris. The little boy unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out of the booster seat, glancing between you and his dad. You take his left hand and Eddie takes his right as you walk over to the stone. 

“Hi, Grandma,” you whisper, crouching down to better see the engraving. Gently, your fingers dance over the etched words: Beloved wife, mother, grandmother, and friend. “I know I haven’t been by to visit you yet, but I’m here now.” You muster up a small smile. “And I brought Eddie and Harris with me. They…they loved you, too.”

You falter for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Eddie’s hand rubs your upper back, not caring about how perspiration-soaked it is. 

“Do you want some privacy?” he murmurs. “Harris and I can wait by the car. You take as long as you need.”

You nod, watching them walk hand in hand to give you your space to grieve. Filling your lungs with a deep breath, you speak what’s been in your heart. 

“I need to thank you,” you start, talking directly to where her name is engraved, “for a lot of things. But I guess, um, the most important is how you taught me to forgive without taking shit—can I swear in a cemetery?—from people.” Your laugh is heavy with the weight of remembrance. 

“I miss you. A lot,” you continue, tears now spilling freely from your eyes. “I miss doing puzzles together. I miss cooking together. I’m going to try and make your applesauce for Thanksgiving this year. I think Harris will really like it.” You swallow thickly. “If you’d met him before you got sick, you would’ve adored him. He’s got the biggest heart of any kid I’ve ever met.”

You’re finding it easier to talk; everything you need to say is coming naturally and without hesitation. 

“He’s…he’s living in your room. I guess, technically, it’s his room now. But a little part of me will always consider it your room, too. And I think that’s okay.” You nod, confirming to yourself that it’s all part of the process. “He keeps asking me and Eddie when we’re going to get married. To be honest, I’m kind of wondering the same thing.” You smile at the thought of marrying Eddie, maybe even legally adopting Harris, if that’s something they also want. “I’m not in a rush, though, but I really do believe that Eddie’s the one. He’s my person, and I’m his. So, yeah, I’m definitely hoping that he proposes sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to visit. I always thought losing you wouldn’t be as hard as it was, because it felt like I had already lost you to dementia.” It feels silly to admit aloud, but it’s the truth. “I should’ve known that it wouldn’t be easy. But I promise, I’ll stop by more often, and I’ll have plenty of cute Harris stories to tell you.”

There’s just a bit more that you need to share before you can go. “I love you, Grandma. And…thank you for loving me, too.”

You stand up, pressing on your knees to ensure your balance. Taking one last look at the stone, you run your fingers over the jagged marble and turn back towards Eddie and Harris.

The little boy is perched on his father’s hip, squinting into the sunlight to make out your form. “You ready, Ms. Sweetheart?”

You blink through misty eyes, staring at the two people in front of you. Ten months ago, if someone had told you that your one-night stand at a dive bar would end up being the love of your life, you would have laughed in their face. But the universe does what it must to remain in balance, and it doesn’t humor any arguments.

Inhale, exhale, repeat. This is where you’re meant to be. This is who you’re meant to be: a partner, a friend, an almost-mommy.

“Yeah,” you say finally, the tears clearing from your vision and a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I’m ready.”

--

💚

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (19)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer finally takes her out on a date. Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (Public fingering) A/n: I did not forget this series, I've just been distracted I'm sorry!! I also apologize if there are any inaccuracies in some random facts, I am not as smart as him, I can only do a quick research from Google.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

"SO, HOW DO I LOOK?"

She spun in front of the mirror, showing off the dress she had picked out that afternoon on an impromptu shopping spree. The garment had looked stunning on the store mannequin, and now, in the soft glow of her bedroom, it was more appealing.

The spaghetti straps delicately framed her shoulders, and the lavender fabric accentuated her curves. The bottom of the dress, hovering just below her knees, gave a playful vibe with a teasing slit inching up her right thigh. And the neckline, with its very low plunge, offered a glimpse of her cleavage she couldn't help but wonder whether it was showing too much skin.

"Like you want to get laid," a playful voice called.

Her laughter echoed through the room as she turned to face her phone and realized the dress was hugging her ass quite snugly. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Sandy's voice echoed through the phone again. She glanced at the screen, seeing her friend's smiling face. "You look gorgeous."

She grinned, the reassurance from Sandy making her feel more at ease. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

She reached for a sparkling necklace and dangling earrings, holding them to the camera. "Necklace or earrings?"

"Hmm." Sandy squinted at the screen, studying the options through the video call. "Go with the earrings. They'll add a touch of glamour without stealing the spotlight from the dress."

She nodded in agreement. "Earrings it is, then."

As she carefully slipped herself into the accessories, Sandy couldn't help but muse her thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear purple."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "What do you mean? I've worn this color before."

"Your wardrobe either consists of black or gray. You had to go out shopping to buy this dress."

She laughed nervously, caught in the act of her predictable wardrobe choices. "Alright, fine." She pursed her lips together before letting out a sigh. "I may or may not have asked his friend what his favorite color is."

"You sly fox," Sandy laughed with a huge grin. "So you do want to get laid."

She blushed, adjusting the earrings. "I mean, if the occasion arises..."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"Well, not exactly, more like... strategically considered?" She tilted her head and observed herself in the mirror again. "Does it make me look desperate?"

"Of course not," Sandy reassured. "It just shows you're putting in effort. Besides, confidence is attractive. You look hot."

She blushed at the compliment, but before she could respond, the distant hum of an engine reached her ears. Her eyes widened, and instinctively, she moved towards the window and noticed a car pulling into her driveway. It wasn't the usual sleek, black government vehicle; instead, the car looked like it had seen better days, although it held a vintage charm that caught her by surprise.

Then reality finally kicked in—he was here for a date, not because of his job. They were actually going out for a nice dinner he had prepared.

She suddenly felt sick.

"Sandy, he's here," she whispered, her voice betraying a touch of panic.

Somehow Sandy still managed to hear her voice from across the room. "You'll be fine! It's not like you haven't spent time with him before."

"Not when my life wasn't on the line." She was met with silence and walked over to her phone, picking it up to find Sandy's disapproving glare. She sheepishly smiled towards the screen. "Too soon?"

Sandy shook her head with a sigh. "Only you would joke about your near-death experience."

"Spencer told me it's a coping mechanism."

"You've joked about it to him as well?"

She nodded. "He's not a fan either." The sound of the doorbell ringing brought her back to the present. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Sandy's urgent voice echoed through the phone again. She watched as her friend's expression softened. "How are you feeling today?"

A warm smile graced her lips, moved by Sandy's ongoing concern. Ever since they reunited at the hospital, Sandy couldn't stop apologizing for what had happened, even when it wasn't her fault to begin with. Her friend consistently checked in on her well-being.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good. Nervous, but good."

Sandy nodded, her smile carrying reassurance. "Good. Now, go enjoy your date."

She reciprocated the sentiment with a blow of a kiss towards the camera. "I'll call you later," she promised before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, slipping her phone into her purse as she descended the stairs.

Spencer was waiting at the door when she opened it, all cleaned up and undeniably handsome. His well-fitted suit accentuated his strong shoulders, and the crisp white shirt beneath complemented the subtle purple tie he wore. The fabric of the suit, in a rich charcoal shade, seemed to bring out the warmth in his hazel eyes.

A nervous smile played on his lips, only enhancing his charm and giving him an endearing quality that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes, however, spoke volumes as they assessed her, taking in the way her dress hugged her curves. Spencer couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight before him.

He was so mesmerized that without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, catching her by surprise. In an instant, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in an unexpected yet tender kiss. The warmth of the moment enveloped them, and for a brief instant, her worries seemed to fade away.

Her initial surprise transformed into a soft smile as she reciprocated the kiss, savoring the way lips moved against hers, and when he finally pulled away, he looked into her eyes with a mixture of admiration and affection.

"I couldn't resist," he admitted, his nervous smile now replaced by one of genuine warmth.

She couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. "I'm certainly not complaining."

As they exchanged smiles, she noticed a smudge of her lipstick on his lips. She burst into laughter, breaking the moment with a lighthearted touch.

"You've got a little something right here," she teased, reaching up to gently wipe off the lipstick with her thumb.

He simply gazed into her eyes with a sincere smile. "You look beautiful."

Blushing at the compliment, she smiled appreciatively. "Why thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Spencer urged, gently tugging her arm, and she willingly followed him after locking her door.

As they walked down her driveway, she felt Spencer's hand on her lower back, a gesture that added an extra layer of comfort to their connection. Unable to contain her surprise, she couldn't help but comment on the unexpected sight of his vehicle.

"I never pictured you as someone who owned a car," she commented, her tone teasing but filled with curiosity.

Spencer chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It may not be as sleek as the government vehicle, but it gets the job done."

She laughed, finding his revelation endearing. "Well, I'm impressed. It suits you." Her eyes scanned the vintage-looking car. "It reminds me of you actually."

"What? Old and worn out?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, not at all. I meant classic, with a certain charm."

His smile widened at her response. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Spencer graciously opened the car door for her, and she beamed appreciatively, slipping into the vintage car's comfortable interior. The soft glow of the dashboard highlighted the nostalgia-infused details of the vehicle, making it clear that Spencer had a penchant for classic styles beyond his usual government responsibilities.

As he closed her door, he circled to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. The engine hummed softly and as she watched him, she felt a certain warmth traveling through her body.

In the soft glow of the car's interior, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked. His features were highlighted by the dashboard lights, casting a subtle yet captivating glow. Before he could pull away from the driveway, a spontaneous impulse surged within her.

"Wait," she said, her voice breaking the quiet ambiance of the car. Without overthinking, she reached over and gently grabbed Spencer's arm, tugging him back for a moment.

He looked at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

She smiled, feeling a surge of boldness, and leaned over to him. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a more passionate kiss than before.

He responded with a mixture of surprise, yet his hand gently found its way to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His lips moved in sync with hers, and when she softly sighed in contentment, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her ever so slightly as his other hand found its place on her thigh.

But when his hand inched under her dress, she laughed and gently pulled away. "I don't think we'll be eating anything if we continue this."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Right," he murmured, readjusting himself in the driver's seat. "Sorry."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she settled back into her seat, fastening her seatbelt. "So, where are you taking me, Handsome?"

His lips curved into a smile as he finally pulled away from her driveway. "It's a surprise," he said. "You'll see."

It wasn't really a surprise. Spencer had already mentioned wanting to visit this place and the big sign saying 'PLANETARIUM' at the entrance was already a dead giveaway.

However, the unusual quietness that enveloped the space caught her off guard. With only a handful of staff present, the vastness of the empty lobby echoed the click of her heels.

The atmosphere shifted when he gently urged her to close her eyes. Suspicion mixed with curiosity, she couldn't resist teasing him as she followed his instructions. "What do you not want me to see? I already know where we are."

A secure arm wrapped around her waist as Spencer guided her through the darkness. She could sense a grin in his voice as he replied, "Sure, but the location isn't exactly the surprise."

"What is then?" She asked. The echo of their footsteps persisted, creating a rhythm in the quiet space of the planetarium.

"The experience," he simply answered. "Keep your eyes closed a bit longer, we're almost there."

"This is kind of making me nervous," she admitted. "You're not going to kidnap and murder me secretly, are you?"

His steps faltered briefly before she let out a sigh, urging him to continue moving. "Sorry, that sounded way better in my head."

There was a heavy silence before he replied, "We should do something about you joking on that matter."

"It's called dark humor."

He softly hummed. "There's actually a psychological explanation for dark humor as a coping mechanism. It's a way for people to navigate and make light of challenging situations."

"You've mentioned this before."

"I know," he confirmed. "I just want to remind you that every time you think you're being morbidly funny you're using a well-established psychological defense mechanism."

"And what do I have to do with that information?"

"Well, for starters, you can appreciate your brain's attempt to keep things light." He gently squeezed her hip. "But maybe try to cut yourself some slack for the occasional dark joke."

She couldn't help but smile, even with her eyes still closed. The subtle squeeze on her hip added a reassuring warmth to his words. "I still don't get why your boss wants me to see the therapist you guys provided when I already have you."

Spencer chuckled and pulled her closer. "Because one, I'm not a licensed therapist. And two, my therapeutic techniques might involve a bit too much intimacy for the average counseling session."

She laughed. "You mean sex?"

"Sexual intercourse," he corrected, still not wanting to say the word, which she nudged her elbow into his side in response.

As their footsteps finally ceased, Spencer gently urged her to open her eyes. When she complied, her eyes widened in astonishment at the breathtaking sight before her—a vast array of galaxies projected onto the ceiling of the planetarium. The cosmic display painted the dark expanse with hues of celestial beauty, leaving her momentarily awestruck.

Yet, what surprised her even more was the scene at the center of the room. A table setting, elegantly arranged, caught her eye. The table was adorned with flickering candles, casting a soft glow on the carefully arranged dishes and the gleam of polished silverware.

She stood in awe. "Spencer, this is... incredible." Her eyes swept over to him. "You did all this?"

"Well, technically the staff prepared this." He guided her further into the room. "But I pulled some strings."

"Some strings? I think you pulled all the strings." She threw him a grateful smile as he pulled her chair, urging her to sit down. "This must cost a fortune."

"Don't worry about that," he assured her, settling in the seat opposite her. "I just want you to enjoy the night."

As she took her seat, the soft glow of candlelight accentuated the contours of his face. She felt a flutter in her chest, realizing she was falling even harder for him. It wasn't just the fancy setup; it was the thought behind it that got to her.

Fate truly had a peculiar way of guiding her to this present, bringing Spencer into her life. It was a bit surreal knowing that the worst things she'd been through somehow brought her to a moment like this.

Maybe, she pondered, there's a silver lining, a reminder that good things can sneak up when you least expect them. And now it was worth focusing on those good things.

So she savored his company, the easy flow of their conversation, the delicious meal he had prepared, and the soft music playing through the stereo. She also enjoyed being close to him moments later when they finished their dinner. The warmth of his presence felt comforting as they lounged in the viewing seats, gazing up at the scene above.

"Do you see the seven bright stars forming a distinct pattern?" he asked, gesturing toward a shimmering formation.

She followed his guidance and nodded. "They look like a tiny ladle or a dipper."

He smiled, appreciating her observation. "That's the Ursa Minor, also known as the Little Dipper. And the North Star, Polaris, is at the end of its handle."

"The North Star?" She repeated.

"It's a crucial navigational star. Sailors and travelers have used it for centuries to find their way. It remains relatively fixed in the northern sky, making it a reliable reference point."

"Hmm," she hummed. She then pointed to another set of stars. "What about that one?"

He followed her gaze and smiled.

"That's the Orion constellation," he said. "It's one of the most recognizable and has a lot of myths around it. In some cultures, it's a hunter chasing various prey across the sky."

"And what's the story behind that?"

He leaned in closer to her. "Well, in Greek mythology, Orion was a mighty hunter who fell in love with the Pleiades. However, fate had different plans, and he ended up among the stars, forever pursuing them."

Her gaze remained fixed on the celestial display, captivated by the tales woven into the stars. "So, he's like a romantic?"

Spencer chuckled. "In a way, yes. Myths often carry themes of love, tragedy, and destiny."

"Like human nature."

He nodded in agreement. "Like human nature."

There was a moment of silence before she turned to him. "How do you even know all of this?"

"We often travel outside the city and the skies are pretty clear in remote areas. Sometimes you can see a few constellations."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you're a secret astronomy enthusiast while solving crimes?"

A bashful smile played on his lips. "When I have the time," he admitted. "There's something fascinating about the stars. They offer a sense of perspective."

She smiled. "It's nice to know even a man of logic and facts finds magic in the sky."

His gaze softened. "Magic has its place in the world, even for a man of logic." He suddenly reached out to the back of her ear and retrieved a dollar bill out of thin air. "See? Magic."

She couldn't help but laugh as she took the bill from him and examined it, tracing the edges. "I remember you doing this trick the first time we met."

He leaned back, a contemplative look in his eyes. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"Considering everything that happened since then, yes," she replied. "You know, I never asked why you were at that bar in the first place."

A subtle blush painted on his cheeks. "I was... enjoying a drink." When she gave him a deadpanned look, he raised his eyebrows. "What? Do I not seem like the type to be hanging out alone at a bar?"

"You stood out like a sore thumb." She gave him back the dollar bill. "I remember you barely touching your beer."

Spencer sighed, taking the money and placing it back in his pocket. "I was supposed to hang out with the team, but they ditched me."

She arched an eyebrow. "They ditched you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Apparently something important came up."

"So they left you hanging at a bar?" When he nodded, she tilted her head in mock sympathy. "Well, it certainly worked in my favor."

He watched her, the flickering memory of that night flashing before him. The first time he kissed her, the taste of her lips, the sensation of holding her naked in his arms. Then his eyes raked down her collarbone, pausing slightly at the swell of her breasts before looking back up to meet her gaze.

"It worked in my favor too."

She noticed his gaze lingering, a subtle heat spreading across her cheeks. The air suddenly shifted as he leaned closer, creating an intimate space between them. There was a magnetic pull, and she felt her breath catch in anticipation. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly grazing her skin.

"Tell me what you remember that night," he said, a low timbre in his voice.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear and she met his gaze with a flush coloring her cheeks. "I remember seeing you sitting alone at the bar."

His reply, a mere whisper, reverberated dangerously low. "What else?"

"You came up to me and did that magic trick." A faint smile played on her lips as she reminisced. "I was amused, and we sat together."

His eyes lingered on her mouth. A subtle tension lingered in the air, each exchange building upon the last. "And then what happened?"

"We talked," she breathed, the word lingering in the air like a shared secret as he leaned closer. "We laughed." She felt his breath brushing against her lips.

"Then you kissed me," she confessed, and in the heartbeat that followed, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers gently. She let herself sink into his touch as he held her face, keeping her in place while he continued to taste her all over again.

His lips fit perfectly and she kissed him back as eager, letting his tongue glide into her mouth so effortlessly. She held onto him, slightly pulling him closer as if he wasn’t close enough even when he was practically pressing his body against hers.

When he slowly pulled away, she suppressed a moan. "Like this?" He asked.

"Like that," she murmured, the taste of him lingering on her lips as they shared the space between breaths.

The warmth of his lips traveled down her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that brushed over her skin. "What else do you remember?"

His lips trailed further down, and she shivered. "We..." Her voice wavered, breath hitching, as his hand slid down her arm before his fingertips began to faintly stroke her skin, grazing over the hem of her skirt. "W-We went back to your place."

"Go on," he urged the words hanging in the air. She felt his fingers glide over her inner thigh, stopping abruptly as he reached the middle.

"You..." She let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up, stopping just before the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her panties softly. "...you touched me."

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing her teasingly through her damp panties before, without warning, they were pushed aside, the hot pads of his fingers finally making direct contact with her clit.

"Was it like this?"

Her hand wrapped around his forearm, trying to stop herself from moaning aloud, her eyes fluttering closed as he began to play with her clit, his fingers skillful as he rubbed in small circular motions, his eyes fixed on her. She looked over at him, her mouth going slack as she felt the sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't seem like herself, and although she didn't mind public displays of affection, she wouldn't let it go beyond a kiss. She wasn't the kind of person to be intimate in public, but here she was, letting him touch her when any of the staff could walk in. Heck, she wasn't sure he was the type of person who would do something like this.

His fingers moved from her clit, dragging down her slit and collecting her arousal, briefly plunging them inside and curling upward, pressing firmly against her walls. She looked down to see his fingers gently pumping in and out of her cunt. Her legs were so wide from him that her knee was practically resting against his thigh.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Did I touch you like this?"

Her chest began to heave, her hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over her casually. "Yes," she breathed out.

Soft whimpers escaped her as she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to be as quiet as she could manage. The fire in her stomach burned hotter with each expert glide of his slick fingers. Her legs opened wider and wider for him which seemed to please him judging by how fast his fingers began to pump into her cunt.

A strained whimper filled his ears the moment he circled her clit with his thumb, the added stimulation did nothing to help her sanity, and moans began to spill from her lips, mouth parting in pure bliss.

"Spence," she whined, voice so unsteady and breathless, she couldn't control her volume anymore, desperate moans mixing with the sounds of her wetness dripping between her thighs.

"That's it," he encouraged, speeding up his fingers. "Let go for me."

The pressure of his fingers was making her impending orgasm loom dangerously close as her back arched from her seat, hand gripping around his wrist. Her eyes flew over to him as she reached her peak, body shivering and writhing as she pushed her hips down against his fingers, feeling them slide from her pussy before circling her clit in rapid motions.

With a final gasp, she lost all control, her mind growing numb, feeling him wildly as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her entire body. She cried out silently, calling his name over and over until she grew too weak while she desperately clung to him.

When he finally pulled away, she felt her arousal dripping down her legs. She stared at him wide-eyed as he fixed her panties back in place before brushing her dress over her legs. When she kept looking at him in a daze, he softly laughed and leaned down, brushing his lips over her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"I..." she was gasping for air, a hand-tossed over her chest. "Did that actually happen?"

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. His fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw as her face flushed—lips delicately swollen, eyes glazed with a mixture of desire and surprise. The aftermath of her climax painted her cheeks in a captivating shade.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand and gently pulling her up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice still carrying the traces of her orgasm. His gaze met hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, revealing an unspoken hunger that mirrored her own desires. His intention was clear.

"We're going home."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: it did not occur to me the possibility of CCTV cameras in a planetarium lmao please excuse me. Also, the plan is to write one last part and an epilogue to wrap it all up.

.

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PLEASE READ: If you already asked me to be added but you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched or I can't tag you. Or if you want to be removed you can also tell me. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[masked-men-fantasy]

Ask about their manhood size Headcanon (Overwatch)

Headcanon for my beloved masked men from Overwatch. What lies between them?

NSFW Content. MDNI.

Reaper

Gabriel just sighs when he hears the question. He pretends to have heard nothing from you. That is when you thought there would be no hope to learn more about his sexual information.

But once both of you are in a private area, Gabriel will look around to make sure there are no guards and no surveillance cameras around.

He then takes off his pants and undresses the remaining part that hides his shaft.

Reaper does have a decent one down there. 7.5 inches long, curvy up, and veiny.

There is not much pubic hair since his body has gone through many experiments.

His cock is twitching and leaking a clear, sticky liquid when you move your hand softly over his shaft. This is evidence that it must have been a very long time since he last did, and you were right.

"When I tried to do it myself, the pain always killed me, but not when I was with you." Gabriel said it with his shadowy voice, though his mask

"Can you help me with that?" This is probably the first time he asks for your help. And you are here to assist him through it.

Genji

Genji does not hesitate to answer that question instantly. He used to be a playboy in Hanamura. Having someone ask about what to expect down there means he will soon get a pleasant night for free.

"I used to have 5 inches." He answered, "But Doctor Ziegler gave me something new after I was resurrected by her."

That is when you realized Genji lost most of his body parts after that tragic incident.

But Doctor Ziegler does some miracle work here.

A prostatic cock is made from carbon fiber and metal, similar to most of his body. The shape is almost like a real one. That should be somewhere around 7 inches long.

"You know... It has been awhile since the last time I had intimate time with someone," he murmured.

His metal sheet moved closer to your face. Your hands were guided by his, touching his shaft. Both of your bodies are getting so close that you can feel each other's warmth.

You can feel your heart race, and the heartbeats of yours and his match perfectly.

Ramattra

Ramattra was annoyed when you asked him about that. He always declines to say that he has such a thing since it has nothing to do with his main intention.

It turns out your gut is right. Ramattra does actually have that thing down there.

"I cannot fathom what makes humans like you curious about Ominic's private part. This is your new low for you, pet." He said that while crossing his arm. His shaft points directly to your face, only half a foot away.

10 inches long, 7 inches girth, made with carbon fiber, flexible plastic, some wires, and special gelatin. It glows purple, too.

"I implemented this part myself after I left the monastery. I enjoy having some self-relief after a long-fought battle to reduce my stress," he explained.

It is not that big. You just said that to taunt him for fun, but Ramattra definitely did not take that as a joke.

"Did I just hear a challenge? from a weak human like you?" He snorted. His eyes contact your small body.

That is when you see him turn himself into a Nemesis form.

And yes, his manhood also turns into a Nemesis form as well.

"You better be ready for what I have in store for you, pet," he growled. His strong robotic hand grips your hip tightly, with no hope of escape.

Let us pray that you can survive the night despite what is going on inside you.

[crushedsweets]

I'm the sweetest girl in town; so why are you so mean? Nina 'the Killer' Hopkins in Creeped PT 1: K-12

PT. 2: PURPOSE — PT. 3 NEW MESSAGE

General disclaimer: This AU is an amalgamation of headcanons, fanon, canon, and the occasional rewrite. There is an overarching story that HEAVILY strays from their canon stories. TW for toxic relationships, grooming, eating disorders, and self-harm. ED content is restricted to the 'middle school' section. Nina is a very personal character to me, but with a LOT of changes. Please take care of yourself and only engage in content you can handle.

BACKGROUND

❥Nina Hopkins was born on February 13, 1998, in California. She was the older sister of 1 brother, Christopher Hopkins.

❥Nina grew up with workaholics. Her father was a carpenter and her mother was a hairdresser, running her very own salon. They'd work 12 hour shifts, coming home to little Nina fast asleep on the couch, waiting for her parents. Especially her dad.

❥Nina was a daddy's girl through and through, and his guilt for never being there was evident. So he chose to shower her in gifts when he could, tutus and little pink mary-janes. Something girly and flashy.

❥Nina's favorite gift was a cheap, princess-themed makeup palette. Little Rapunzel's and Tiana's littered about her glittery pink and purple eyeshadows, set alongside cherry-flavored lip balms. She'd use the tiny sponge brush to delicately put on bright eyeshadow before school every goddamn morning.

❥It became obsessive. She'd come home and reapply. Cry when her mom makes her wipe it off before bed. Kick and scream when they threatened to take it away from her. When her mother asked why, Nina cried that it made her pretty. She didn’t want to look in the mirror without it. 

❥Now, Nina wanted attention. From a young age, you could see it in her. The way she dressed, the messily applied makeup, the loud voice, fake cries. She didn't get it much from her parents, and it only worsened when she became a big sister.

❥She was about 7 when Christopher was born. Her mom may have taken maternity leave, but that still left no time for Nina. She learned how to make bottles, change diapers, and bathe newborns. No attention aside from Christopher’s tiny hands holding onto her pajamas.

❥This opened a new routine for Nina and her mom, though. Each night, her mom dozed off on the couch, rocking Christopher’s little crib. Nina curled up beside her, purple eyelids half shut, watching whatever show her mom had on. 

❥Nina’s mom’s favorite show was Forensics Files. A little odd to her husband, but it immediately hooked Nina’s attention. It wasn’t age-appropriate, sure, but her mom was far too exhausted to change it. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? If Nina could wear eyeshadow, she could watch her mama’s favorite show. 

❥Just like Nina’s cheap makeup set, her interest in true crime grew obsessive. She’d get in trouble at school, spending her time in the school’s library, typing away at the school’s computer. She didn’t get far with many of her searches considering the Wi-Fi restrictions, but teachers and students quickly caught on. Eventually, she got banned from the library.

❥But Nina couldn’t get those stories out of her head. Every little bit she had memorized, she scribbled away in her diary. Obsessively. She kept track of every single detail. Memorized the victims’ names, the dates, and even the times they were declared dead. Whatever information was available to the public, Nina wrote down.

❥When Nina was about 9, she got her very own laptop. A gift from her dad, and an apology for so many late nights at work. He had no idea what it would unlock for Nina. All of the forums and chat rooms and videos she’d have access to. He didn’t even know there was a fucking ‘true crime community’ online, how could he expect his little girl to get sucked into that?

GRADE SCHOOL

❥When Nina was 10, she became a bit of a recluse. Girls at school avoided her for a few years now. She spent day after day curled up by the playground all on her own, flipping through her diary and brushing everyone off in favor of it. At home, she’d retreat to her bedroom and scroll online forums. 

❥She began making friends online, choosing to lie about her age. She’d befriend adults interested in the same morbidity as her. They introduced her to new content. It began with anime, usually psychological horror. Eventually, it evolved into dark manga, then gorey horror movies. Nina didn’t think much when they introduced her to liveleak. 

❥Nina left her diary behind one day, a fatal mistake that she was always so careful about. A girl from her class, Claudia, picked it up. Nina didn’t see that diary for a week. She spent days sobbing over it, crying to the people she met online and refusing to leave her room in fear of it being found.

❥She was called into her elementary school’s office the following Monday. Little Nina, dressed in hot pink twinkle-toe converse and glittery lip-balm, sat uncomfortably in the stiff office chair. Her father sat besides her, a look of disappointment on his overworked face. Her diary was on the desk.

❥Nina screamed. She screamed and kicked the chair as she snatched the diary. Without a second thought, she snapped the tension in that room, resulting in her father having to hold her down. She panicked violently, and when she eventually settled down into a whimpering sobbing mess, they scolded her. 

❥They began putting Nina into therapy. Weekly sessions at first, trying to dissect what was wrong with her. It made her feel worse. She didn’t think there was anything wrong with her. She wore ‘weird’ like a badge, something that all her online communities praised her for. Why was everyone acting so awful? It didn’t matter that much, though. Her parents still couldn’t carve time out of their work days for her. Weekly appointments turned monthly, turned every three months, turned never.

❥The girl who found her diary didn’t help. She read through it long before she turned it in to the teachers, snapping photos on her older sister's phone. Claudia began to keep track of Nina, similar to Nina’s habits. When the two turned 11 and entered 6th grade, Nina began experiencing relentless bullying and harassment. 

❥It started with name-calling. Deeming Nina a freak show, calling her a future serial killer, or pretending to squeal and run off when Nina walked by. It snowballed into jabs at her appearance, laughing at her messily applied blush and colorful clothes. Saying she was the ugliest girl in their grade, making comments on her body and how all the boys found her gross. She very frequently fell for boys saying they had a crush on her, only to laugh at her the second she believed it. Her self-esteem was already in shambles, but the relentless harassment only worsened it.

MIDDLE SCHOOL

❥Nina found solace online. Her friends were older, more mature. They understood her. Sure, some of them made her a bit uncomfortable, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. When she turned 12, she confessed her age to them. It broke her heart when a few blocked her, but not everyone did. She clung to those who stayed. Curiously, the adults interested in staying friends with little Nina were the same ones introducing her to new disgusting content. They’d ask to video call her and stream their favorite movies. Nina didn’t realize they were snuff films at first.

❥The harassment at school didn’t stop, of course. Nina was too young to start dieting, too young to be buying expensive makeup, too young to be worrying about her appearance. Regardless, she was convinced it would solve her problems. Alongside the fixation on horror, Nina stressed about her looks. She’d sob in front of mirrors, calling her adult friends and begging them for advice. They’d ask for photos. You know, to help her. She shattered every mirror in her room, weeping over her bloody hands and sending shards along her body. Nina's new diary obsessively kept track of new numbers.

❥Nina spent every night grabbing at her face and body, desperately morphing it to look the way she wanted. She didn’t even stop to think about Christopher in the other room, listening to her wretch into the toilet after every meal. Nina was so unbelievably lost in her own world, that nobody good ever came to mind.

❥She thought about Claudia a lot. So thin, tall, and confident. Claudia had a lot of friends, too. Nina was well aware, considering how often Claudia geared their attacks at Nina. She watched Claudia daily. In 8th grade, she noticed Claudia began wearing crop tops. Nina did too. She’d tie up her shirts and untie them around her parents. Claudia wore her hair in a high ponytail every damn day, so Nina started doing it too. Nina began applying mascara and highlight the same way Claudia did. Both girls were arguably too young for makeup, but there they were, egging each other on to apply more and more. Claudia’s wardrobe was pretty simple, nothing too flashy. So Nina opted out of her rhinestones and bright pink sneakers, instead reaching for simple Converse and plain jeans. 

❥By this point, a good number of them had phones. Claudia had long blocked Nina on Instagram, but Nina just made another account. A few, actually. One was an empty account with a fake profile picture and name, only used to follow Claudia without being blocked. A few more were made, used to follow Claudia and bombard her comments and messages with hateful content. Jabs at her appearance, her body, her clothes. Anything Nina could use as ammunition, she shot down Claudia’s self-esteem as harshly as her own. Nina would tell her adult friends online about it, bringing them to Claudia’s pages to attack her. It was cruel, and Nina knew that.

❥But it just felt so good when Claudia began to change. Before the end of 8th grade, she swapped to hoodies and pajama pants. No longer wore her hair up, instead used it to hide her face the best she could. She spoke quieter and didn't laugh so loud anymore. Nina felt like she won, and the freaks online cheered her on. Finally, Nina was able to drop her fixation on Claudia. 

HIGH SCHOOL

❥There was an odd shift in high school. Nina had completely turned her appearance around. She obsessively posted selfies and was quite careful about her online interests. Nobody could know. She wouldn’t even share the fact that she watched anime, far too fearful of the backlash. 

❥She had caught the eye of a senior at her school. His friend group had practically circled Nina, quickly offering her rides home and inviting her out. She bathed in the attention.

❥Christopher watched his big sister sneak out every other night. He’d ask softly where she was going. Gently, she’d smooth down his hair, press a kiss to his forehead, and ask him not to tell. He listened. Nina didn’t realize how much Christopher knew, and how much he kept to himself. How much of her grief he carried with him, worrying for his big sister.

❥14 year old Nina found herself at quite a few parties. Sometimes they’d be cities away, and she’d be seated on a couch at a random college party, shakily sipping away at a drink that made her nose scrunch. Eventually, the boy that brought her to these parties asked her to be his girlfriend. Nina couldn’t believe it.

❥He was the first boy of many to break her heart. It was a short month with him, till she went to the next guy. Then the next, and the next. Nina started drinking quite a bit, occasionally smoking weed and embarrassing herself on several occasions. She said it made it easier to socialize, but she really just thought it made her look cooler.

❥It grew difficult to balance both social lives. Her adult friends online continued to demand her attention at all times. Not much changed from when she was in middle school, including the way her anxiety would skyrocket when they got upset with her. She always folded to everyone in her life. She just wanted them to stay, to praise her, to tell her how kind and beautiful and sweet and funny she was. But it just felt so much better when someone in real life gave her that.

❥Yet another boy broke Nina’s heart. She thought he was the one, she really did. She spent months with him, from the end of her sophomore year to the start of her junior year. He bathed her in everything she asked for at first. She even got comfortable sharing some of her interests with him. He thought a girl liking anime was badass, but when she began to ramble about cold cases, he started to withdraw. Shortly after he broke up with her, old rumors began to resurface. Photos of an old diary slipped back into her school, shedding light on Nina’s elementary school habits. Nothing seemed to change, huh? Still talking about the same shit she was tormented for years back, but this time, they were attached to screenshots and voice memos that Nina sent to her boyfriend that year.

❥Nina knew who leaked them. Claudia, that stupid fucking bitch. Nina was never confrontational. Nobody ever taught her how to be. But this was a new low for her, dragging her right back to her middle school horrors. It’s like all of her misery, all of her insecurities, all of her rage and frustration and low self esteem accumulated into a string of stupid decisions. 

❥Nina followed Claudia home that following Monday. It was long after school, with Nina patiently waiting for Claudia to finish her group project. Neither of them exactly expected this, but when Nina snatched Claudia’s hair and began bashing her head into the ground, there was a deep sense of relief.

❥Regret followed. It didn’t feel so good watching Claudia sob as she curled up on the floor, clutching her face and begging Nina to stop. A pathetically small puddle of blood pooled beneath Claudia, and the sight made Nina’s stomach churn. She threw up. 

❥But Claudia was fine. Only her nose was broken and her face was bruised. Nina was expelled, now being shoved into an alternate school to complete high school. It was tearing Nina up inside to be so alone again.

❥What else was she supposed to do?

PT. 2: PURPOSE

[carlossainzwho]

dear angel lacy, eyes white as daisies

dad!carlos sainz x mom!reader

no one is giving me the girl dad content i want of carlos so i thought i should do some myself. enjoy!

lacy woke in the morning as a four-year-old girl. she ran to her parents bedroom, only to find it empty, bed neatly done and no mummy and daddy. confused, she ran down the stairs, her little legs carrying her little body and burst into the living room.

she couldn't believe her eyes - purple and pink balloons hung from the ceiling, birthday banners were spread across the walls and a small pile of presents lay on the side of the room.

she bounced to the kitchen and there stood her parents - daddy was making fresh chocolatey special pancakes and mummy was putting up a massive banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY LACY!

'mummy! daddy! i'm a big girl now!' lacy squealed delightedly

'aw, my baby is such a grown-up! happy birthday mi amor' y/n turned around and planted a giant kiss on her little girl's forehead.

she turned to her daddy and jumped up and down. 'yayy, daddy making pancakes! i love you daddy!'

'and what about me?' y/n retorted

'of course i love you mummy!'

y/n~instagram

to my dearest little angel lacy, my daisy-eyed princess, happy 4th birthday! mummy and daddy love you 💖

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 481,455 more

carlossainz55: i remember when she was a tiny little baby 🥰

liked by yn~instagram

landonorris: happy birthday to lacy! love, your favourite uncle - you look better in papaya! 😌

oscarpiastri: happy birthday lacy, from your REAL favourite uncle! although i also agree, she definitely looks better in mclaren gear!

carlossainz55: no she doesn't pastry oscarpiastri: you bet she does, sainz yn~instagram: stop fighting you two! 🙄 oscarpiastri: yes m'am 🫡

user 1: not oscar and carlos fighting lmao

user 2: she's so fkn cute!

user 3: such a beautiful little girl!! happy bday lacy!!!!!!!

charlesleclerc: i still think i should let her wear some of my merch... the number 16 looks better on her

yn~instagram: no she doesn't, shut up frenchie

liked by pierre gasly

charlesleclerc: how dare pierre like the comment! pierregasly: the woman's go a point, charles yn~instagram: let's not forget that you are french too, pierre 🫣

liked by charlesleclerc and carlossainz55

pierregasly: ugh 🙄

carlossainz55

can you guess who the birthday girl is?

tagged: yn~instagram

liked by p1_coach, danielricciardo and 451,830 more

yn~instagram: the birthday girl is lacy!

landonorris: save some cake for me please? 👉👈

oscarpiastri: me too danielricciardo: me three p1_coach: me four! some for harlow would do too! yn~instagram: why are all of you so damn hungry 😭 carlossainz55: sorry guys i ate all of it landonorris: goddamit carlos!!

user 4: im on my knees its MY dream bday party

user 5: such a pretty girl awwwww

user 6: oh to be carlos sainz's daughter

liked by carlossainz55

user 6: HOLY SHIT HE LIKED THE COMMENT

user 7: gasp user 6: GASP INDEED

yn~instagram

got the birthday girl lacy some ice-cream!

tagged: landonorris, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, lilyzneimer

liked by oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer and 355,102 more

landonorris: lacy didn't let me have some of her ice cream 😪

oscarpiastri: well she did for me, so I'M the favourite papaya uncle landonorris: no, i am! yn~instagram: for the last time, STOP. FIGHTING. oscarpiastri: yes m'am 🫡

user 8: not oscar and LANDO fighting now lmao

user 9: god i love them all

lilyzneimer: the birthday girl definitely looks happy with that ice cream! although, i do recommend strawberry flavour for next time!

liked by yn~instagram and carlossainz55

user 10: who knew f1 drivers could be such dweebs?

yn~instagram: the only dweeb on this planet is charles damn leclerc charlesleclerc: hey!

user 11: oh to be a fly on the wall in an ice-cream parlour... *sighs*

liked by carlossainz55

thanks for reading! liking and reblogging will help so much! you are always loved <3

of course, more olivia rodrigo has been used because she is STUNNING!

dividers by @firefly-graphics - thanks so much! your dividers are amazing!

[pinkydevil16]

Dark! Xavier Thorpe x reader: part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Y/n sat with Xavier in every lesson, she did find it odd how he always had a seat available next to him but she was glad to have a friend than have to sit at the back and be lonely, lunch rolling round as she laughed at Xavier's jokes his hand moving to push her hair out her face as he looked at her smiling. He wanted to sketch her as she smiled at him, he hadn't sketched her without her purple eyes but they looked so beautiful with the bright sun reflecting in them. 

"Y/n! Xavier!" Enid shouted across the Quad as Y/n turned her attention taken away from him as she moved to the table where their friends sat, Enid and Ajax both too shy to talk to each other more than a few words Y/n sitting next to the bubbly werewolf as they asked her how her first day was going. Y/n telling them everything including Xavier as Ajax gave him a smirk when Y/n said they sat together and chatted for most of the lessons, the art he'd shown her and how she was actually enjoying the school. Enid telling Y/n all the gossip as Xavier tried not to get upset at no longer having all of Y/n's attention, he liked that she only spoke to him, sat with him and had all her attention on him. She liked his art and enjoyed when he made it come to life, she didn't care if Bianca glared at her because she was too busy playing with her floating pen. Enid started complaining about the plans for the year, her roommate hadn't been assigned yet so it seemed she would be on her own for the year Y/n smiling as she used her powers to make a rainbow appear, Enid's eyes sparkling as she glowed with happiness.

"You'll get a roomie eventually, if not you can always sleep with me if you get lonely." Y/n said shrugging as Xavier thought of about her, his mind going back to his dream but it was fuzzy now as he looked at Y/n, Enid squealing as she squeezed Y/n close thanking her and asking to have a sleepover that night. Y/n nodded whilst rolling her eyes and grinning at the boys as Enid ran off to tell Yoko, Y/n turning towards them as she leaned forward stealing some food from Xavier with a cheeky smile. 

"Is she always so happy?" Y/n said as she looked over at Enid, Yoko showing her teeth to the colourful girl as Enid went to hug her stopping when Yoko raised an eyebrow at her instead Enid laughing nodding and running back to the group landing next to Y/n and leaning into her.

"Yoko is going out for a late night bite with the other vampires so she was going to stay with them tonight anyway. This is going to be so much fun! We can paint our nails and do face masks, do you have snapchat?" Xavier stopped listening as Enid listed off all the fun things they could do, Ajax's face going into one of pure content as he leant on his hand watching Enid a small smile on his lips, Xavier looking the same at Y/n as she encouraged Enid. 

"You're gonna be up all night." Xavier said with a grin as Y/n winked at him before the bell went Enid rushing to get up her and Ajax walking off to class as Xavier stood waiting for Y/n as she collected her stuff and walked next to him.

"What class is next?" Y/n said trying to find her schedule as her eyes turned purple things flying about as she huffed realising she must have lost it as she put everything back, Xavier reaching into his pocket and handing her the schedule. Y/n's eyebrow raised as he scratched his neck.

"It fell out earlier and i forgot to give it to you, also it's english." Y/n looked at him for a minute before laughing as they walked, Xavier looking at her oddly as she pushed him gently.

"So we've had a class about carnivorous plants, studying the moon and stars, potion making and now we get english? You'd think it was a normal school." Y/n rolled her eyes as they arrived, Xavier glaring at someone until they moved letting him and Y/n sit together as Y/n gave him and odd look.

"Did you just get that poor guy to move?" Xavier went red as he began to stutter trying to hide that he had been doing it all day, Y/n getting out her notebook as she poked him with her pen.

"Don't stress so much, it's cute you want to sit with me." Xavier went to say something but the teacher interrupted, Y/n's eyes moving back to the front of the room as she nodded along taking notes. Xavier started his notes but soon started sketching Y/n at the bottom of his page, Y/n looking over as she nudged him his hand dropping to cover it as he smiled at her.

"Whatcha drawing?" Y/n said in a hushed voice as she kept flitting her eyes back to the teacher as they wrote down quotes, Xavier covering his drawing with his arm as he quickly sketched a sunflower moving his arm so she could see the flower making it bloom as Y/n grinned at him.

"How did you know sunflowers were my favourite?" Y/n whispered, Xavier looked at his drawing he had drawn it so fast he hadn't thought about it but to him it made sense, he knew her better than she thought he did and he felt proud of himself. 

"Lucky guess?" Xavier said, it wasn't even a lie although he hadn't guessed just instantly drawn it without thinking, he felt connected to her as she watched the flower bloom over and over with a wide smile on her face.

"Mr Thorpe, Miss L/N, are we interrupting you?" Y/n's eyes shot up as she realised how close they were, her head almost on his shoulder as Xavier looked down at her both turning to the teacher as they turned red Y/n shifting back to sit normally as she mumbled an apology. The teacher staring at them a moment longer before moving on as Xavier ripped his page passing Y/n the drawing of the sunflower as she smiled at it putting it in her notebook. Her hand smoothing over it as she wrote her notes Xavier watching her as he leaned on his elbow trying to not make it obvious as he enjoyed how she kept looking at the drawing, he wanted to paint her a thousand sunflowers just to see her smile at his work. 

Xavier fenced with Ajax as they waited for the class to start, Bianca trying to talk to him but his attention turned to Y/n as she walked in tying her hair up as she walked towards the three of them a friendly smile on her face as she looked at Bianca.

"Hiya, i'm Y/n." Y/n extended her hand towards her Bianca looking her up and down before turning to Xavier.

"Really?" Bianca looking back at Y/n before walking past her bumping her shoulder as Y/n looked at her confused then facing the boys as Xavier fidgeted looking down as Ajax snorted hitting Xavier in the arm.

"Come on loser." Ajax said pulling his helmet down as he got into place, Xavier giving Y/n a lopsided smile.

"Sorry about Bianca, she's...Bianca." Xavier moved away putting his helmet on with a smile as he got into position, Y/n watching him as he and Ajax started fighting, his confidence growing as he got the first point hoping to impress Y/n before she turned feeling someone poke her. Bianca on the end of the sword as she challenged her with a smirk, Y/n raising an eyebrow shrugging as she put on her helmet, Ajax stopping as he waved at Xavier both pulling up their helmets as they watched. Bianca stood on one side as Y/n leisurely moved cracking her neck.

"What rules?" Y/n said her tone playful as she flipped her sword catching it as she rolled it between her fingers like a baton as she grinned at her behind the mask, the teacher explaining normal rules as the two started to spar, Y/n letting Bianca get a hit on her. Bianca taunting her as Y/n pretended to be annoyed letting Bianca get another hit before throwing her helmet off in annoyance.

"Alright, one last round, no rules, no helmets, first blood?" Bianca smiled as she chucked off her helmet, Y/n turning around with a wink to Xavier as she got back into position letting Bianca think she was winning until the last moment, her sword clashing harshly against hers as she spun knocking her to the ground with a small trip up placing the blade against Bianca's neck as she nicked her cheek. Xavier's jaw dropping as Bianca glared at Y/n's wicked smile, a fake pout coming on her face.

"Really Bianca?" Mocking her as she moved the tip away reaching out her hand to help her, Bianca slapping her hand as Y/n held them up in mock surrender watching Bianca as she walked off her group glaring at Y/n before following her. Xavier coming up behind Y/n as he placed a hand on her shoulder with a smile, Y/n's face turning back into a smile as she poked Xavier's side making him poke her back as she moved to grab her helmet Xavier quickly looking up as she bent over trying not to be a perv but his eyes dropped back to her. Ajax poking him with the sword making Xavier jump and look away from Y/n as Ajax rolled his eyes, Y/n now moving to stand next to them as she placed the rubber tip back on her blade.

"So who wants to go next?" Y/n said with a grin as she looked between the boys, Ajax bowing out quickly leaving her with Xavier before the teacher came over.

"Y/n Principle Weems would like to see you." Y/n nodded waving bye to Xavier and Ajax as she went into the changing rooms. 

"Hello Miss L/N, i hope you are enjoying Nevermore so far." Y/n sat down placing her bag on the ground as she adjusted the long skirt looking at Principle Weems with a small smile.

"It's a good school, i'm enjoying it compared to my last one." Principle Weems grinned at Y/n as she leaned forward dropping her eyes to look over Y/n's file which was larger than most with multiple tabs.

"I was reading through your file and wanted to introduce myself personally, you are a gifted student but this is your 5th school in 3 years due to behavioural issues." Y/n sighed as she crossed her legs leaning back in the chair her eyes turning purple as she flipped the folder open to the last report sent in by her previous school.

"I don't have behavioural issues normie schools just so happen to enjoy bullying Outcasts which i don't enjoy. I promise i won't be a problem to you or the normies in the nearby town. I know this is a last resort for my mum since i gained my powers and you and i both know she was more than happy to ship me off so the chances of her taking me back are slim. I'm already making friends and fitting in, i plan to join the poecup club with Enid as one of her ladies graduated last year." Principle Weems lip curled as she looked at the report.

"Miss L/N dangled a boy in the air after he teased a younger boy from a different class, when asked to put him down she dropped him down spinning him at the last moment to land him safely but she showed no remorse." Principle Weems sat back in her chair waiting for Y/n to elaborate as she shrugged her shoulders twirling her finger with purple mist surrounding it.

"He pushed an outcast kid to the ground and called him an abomination, i asked him to apologise and he threatened me. I did everything they asked me to, apologised to him and no police report was done. Principle Weeks, i am not a bad student this is my last year and i'll be 18 in a few months. I hope we can look past my file." Principle Weeks stood up towering over Y/n as she stood up aswell, her red lips stretched into an annoyed smile as her eye twitched slightly, Y/n grinning at her as she picked up her bag.

"Have a good day Miss L/N, i hope i won't see you in my office often." Y/n nodded leaving with a small wave of the hand the door opening and closing behind her as Principle Weems sat back in her seat looking over the file before storing it with the other troublesome cases. Y/n walked through the halls the classes finished a few moments ago as she made her way to the dorms opening her door as she placed her bag down Enid already sat on her bed legs crossed texting away. Y/n raising her eyebrows as she looked at Enid who stood quickly with a wide smile pointing to her sleeping bag.

"Hey Y/n, hope you don't mind Yoko let me in." Y/n smiled sitting down on her bed and throwing her shoes off as she pulled her hair free and dropped backwards. Enid perching next to her as she bounced waiting for Y/n to talk to her, Y/n looking at her before huffing.

"I don't mind do whatever you want in here, what's the plan?" Enid squealed moving to her bag as she pulled out blankets and pillows aswell as her laptop placing them on the bed as Y/n moved to let her place them down.

"Ajax and Xavier invited us to Crackstone's crypt to hangout for a few hours then i thought we could come back and do all the fun stuff!" Y/n rolled over nodding as she groaned sitting up, Enid rushing around as she pulled out multiple outfits asking Y/n's opinions. 

Xavier sat in his room his pencils all spread out on the bed as he twirled one in his hand tapping it against the paper as he looked at the sunflower, the colours blended but he wanted it to he absolutely perfect as he looked at all the different scrunched drawings of sunflowers he'd started and decided they weren't good enough. His mind reeling as he looked through his book landing on the image of her pointing her sword at Bianca, her stance beautiful and captivated as he started drawing the person under her, his hand drawing without thinking as he drew himself under her sword. Running his hand over it as the drawing moved showing her pushing him to the ground and grinning at him, his mind running wild as it kept moving until she straddled him her lips grazing his as she mocked him, his hands running along her legs as he pulled her closer her lips about to drop onto his when his dorm room door opened Rowan walking in with a small wave to Xavier. The sketchbook slamming shut as he panicked waving back hiding the book under his pillow as he adjusted his position trying to hide how the drawing had made him feel as he pushed his hair back sighing deeply. He wanted to keep drawing her, watch how the scenes played out in his head, he wondered how far he could go in his drawings.

Y/n sat next to Enid on the balcony waiting for Ajax and Xavier, Y/n dressed in a dark blue wrap top and jeans with a denim jacket, Enid in a rainbow coloured jumper and skirt her hair nicely curled and nails repainted. Y/n had done some small make up on her with her magic, Y/n doing black eyeliner and blue eyeshadow making her eyes pop as the moon beamed down on them. A stone coming over the side as the two girls moved to look over seeing Ajax and Xavier smiling up at them as Y/n used her powers to float them down, their boots landing softly as Y/n smiled at everyone. 

"You guys ready?" Ajax asked as he looked at Enid, she looked so pretty he couldn't keep his eyes off her as Xavier walked beside Y/n the two others in front as they kept trying to talk only able to have small conversations before looking away awkwardly and interrupting the other. 

"Hey i drew this for you." Xavier handed Y/n a folded piece of paper, Y/n unfolding it to find a beautiful sunflower which looked vivid even under the shady moonlight as they walked, grinning at Xavier as she used her powers to move into the picture and pull it out holding it against her chest as Xavier grinned at her.

"Thank you, it's beautiful." Y/n smelt it, touching the petals before placing it back inside the picture his drawing returning to normal as she ran her hand over the colours feeling the pencil marks and how much effort he'd put into it.

"You're so talented, have you ever sold any?" Xavier felt his blood run cold as she kept touching the drawing loving how she could tell he had done it over and over, the subtle lines where he'd drawn different versions and the changing of colours as he wanted to capture the best lighting. 

"Sometimes, my dad wanted me to do him one for his shows so it would move when people came near but he kept saying it never looked right so now i only draw for my personal collection." Y/n folded the drawing placing it in her back pocket as she looped her arm with his leaning her head on his arm as they kept walking.

"Well your dad is wrong, your art is awesome and i would love to see your personal collection sometime." Xavier blushed happy for the dark lighting as they kept walking all four of them chatting as they arrived at the crypt. 

Wednesday Taglist:@celibacy-or-death @sarcastic-sourwolf @snips-501 @lilithskywalker @parkersmyth @hey-im-bored504 @1horrormoviewhore1 @peachycupotea @moonmaiden1996 @bebopsworld @betray-jaes@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @ilovedeadguys @kaz-2y567 @darling-twh @90sgothik@thematicallythalia @cheezybread @arivh @kaz-2y567 @akinatrix @just-sana @manuosorioh@alohastitch0626 @snips-501 @lovesanimals0000 @trashmouthsahra @whatinthefreshhellisthis@elle4404 @pasta88love @sourbiscuit @sl-t4ym1r @whatinthefreshhellisthis @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @bringontheweirdworld @laneyspaulding19 @torirosalie @nushy @

[gaymergirlie]

BG3 Patch 7 Wishlist:

10+ hours of Wyll content to put him on par with the others

Higher level cap. 12 is far too low imo

Gale’s purple blanket that was supposed to be added in patch 5 (also maybe give Astarion one? Why are we fucking on the forest floor?)

More greetings for Wyll.

Minthara and Halsin to occupy different areas at camp. I appreciate the opportunity to have them both now, but why are they sharing a tent? The camps are massive especially in act three. There’s plenty of room.

Maybe another romance scene for Wyll? The other origins all have at least three. (Party kiss doesn’t count imo.)

A body slider, or perhaps some further character customization options. At the very least make some of the face options open to other races.

Wyll Ravengard. He’s such a neat character I think they should expand on him like they did for Halsin.

More lines for Wyll.

More Wyll.

[fairykazu]

CELESTE ft. scaramouche —✩ two idols intertwined pairing: scaramouche x gn! reader contents: angst, scaramouche leaves for a while, commitment issues, idol abuse, trust issues, mommy issues (more will be added) ! masterlist :: kazuha's route ⋆｡°✩purple midnights with the moon: album in the works part i: celeste and scaramouche. track 1. to the moon and back ⋆ track 2. constant love from him ⋆ track 3. why won't he talk to me? ⋆ track 4. distance between us ⋆ track 5. i miss you / leave me alone part ii. celeste track 6 ft scaramouche. sleeping with a ghost track ⋆ 7. im a fool to want you ⋆ track 8 ft. scaramouche. don't msg me, i left for a reason ⋆ track 9. i know you ⋆ track 10. he left a scaramouche-sized hole in my heart ⋆｡°✩ eons adrifting between the celestial skies part iii. track 11. they never leave me alone ⋆ track 12. i need to save you from me track 13. i will be a brand new star track ⋆ track 14. leaving no trace ⋆ 15. famous idol scaramouche left the industry part iv celeste & wanderer track 16. soaring comet of a new star: wanderer ⋆ track 17. heart breaking track ⋆ 18. im sorry / no apologies can be forgiven track ⋆ 19. friends? friends. ⋆ track 20. feelings can't always disappear, they come back

the end !

[choco-pudding]

Space Channel 5 Part 2: Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book p. 170-179 (Translations by @lavoszero and myself. Edits and typesetting by myself)

Second Part of the bonus content.

Imgur link to all of the Sugoku Sugoi Guide Book translations we’ve done thus far.

Plain text below.

p. 170

15: Synchro Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear 34 consecutive trials in Ulala's Dance Mode while wearing the Morolian Suit

Borrowed from the team when Ulala went to do an exercise report with the best in the Galaxy's synchronized swimming team (must be returned).

16: Space Michael Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 4 with the Ratings at 100%

Staff member suit. A costume of Space Michael, the new Chief of Space Channel 5.

17: Jaguar Costume [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 5 with the Ratings at 100%

A costume of Jaguar, the Space Pirate Broadcasting Station leader.

18: Peace Costume [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 2 (Extra Mode)

A President Peace costume. It was used to make a body double for him. Second hand goods.

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p. 171

19: Noize Costume [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 3

A costume of Noize. It has a secret function that makes the wearer appear smaller.

20: Evila (upgrade) Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 4

In reality, this suit is in fact just body paint and color contacts.

21: Dancing Purge Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 6

A mysterious suit designed to confuse enemies with little purple disco-mirrors.

22: Neo-Japanese Astronaut [Unlock Requirements] Save the Neo-Japanese Astronauts

A suit worn while undercover during a tour organized by an evil travel agency.

-

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p. 172

23: Mr. Nervous Suit [Unlock Requirements] Rescue Mr. Nervous.

A personal outfit of Ulala's that she secretly wears when she wants to act wimpy

24: Chef Suit [Unlock Requirements] Rescue the Chef (green)

A suit for undercover work in kitchens. Worn for an investigation of a secret broth.

25: Space Primary School Suit [Unlock Requirements] ​Rescue the Space Primary School Band Quartet

Used for the investigation of underground cramming school. It has a secret function that makes the wearer appear smaller.

26: Rescue Squad Suit [Unlock Requirements] Rescue the Space Rescue Squad

Worn by Ulala when she wants to show off her manly spirit without worries.

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p. 173

27: Granny Suit [Unlock Requirements] Rescue Space Granny

Used for the undercover infiltration into the Geriatric Bandits Hideout. Designed to keep the wearer's back curved for long periods of time.

28: Blank Suit [Unlock Requirements] Unlocked by playing for 10 hours (PS2). Unlocked by having Space Channel 5 save data (DC).

A costume of Blank, the former Channel 5 Chief. The cheat command is printed inside the clothes.

29: Hard Core Sexy Suit [Unlock Requirements] Unlocked by playing for 10 hours (PS2). Unlocked by having Space Channel 5 save data (DC).

A risque suit if ever we've seen one. But it's comfortable to wear, almost dreamlike.

30: Robot Suit (silver) [Unlock Requirements] Clear 7 consecutive trials in Ulala's Dance Mode while wearing the Morolian suit.

Metallic. You practically need to contort your body in on itself to wear it.

-

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p. 174

31: Robot Suit (macho) [Unlock Requirements] Clear 14 consecutive trials in Ulala's Dance Mode while wearing the Morolian suit

Made of metal. This suit is pleasantly spacious but quite heavy.

32: Morolian Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 6

A stuffed Morolian suit. Has the unique feature of making it appear as if the body has changed. Something will happen if you play Ulala's Dance Mode while wearing this suit.

33: Boss Morolian Suit [Unlock Requirements] ​Clear Reports 1 though 6 with the Ratings at 100%

A stuffed Boss Morolian suit.

34: 88Man Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 3 (Extra Mode)

Used to infiltrate Channel 88 HQ to report on the scandal that occurred there. The high clogs made it difficult to move in.

-

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p. 175

35: Cloaked Purge Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear 100 consecutive trials in Ulala's Dance Mode while wearing the Morolian suit

Purge's cloaked suit. It can be worn as a set with No. 21 Dancing Purge Suit.

36: Striped Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 1 in 2-Player Mode

A sample outfit given to Ulala by the manager of her favorite fashion store. She modified to it give it some extra flare.

37: Camouflage Costume [Unlock Requirements] Clear Report 2 in 2-Player Mode

Used to infiltrate the evil Crimson Cosmos ginger processing plant. It has a faint scent of red ginger.

38: Black Gear [Unlock Requirements] Play the game for 30 or more hours

Used to infiltrate the leather sweat shop. Was made in a rush, and so the colors fade easily.

-

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p. 176

39: Peach Suit [Unlock Requirements] Clear 53 consecutive trials in 2-Player Ulala's Dance Mode

Ulala's personal wear for shopping.

40: Coconut Ulala [Unlock Requirements] Clear 53 consecutive trials in Ulala's Dance Mode

Not really a suit—just a tan!

Make and Color Your Own Suits!

-

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p. 177 Ulala Poem

This is a "poem" written by Ulala (22), a Space Channel 5 reporter. Her hopes for the future after the incident (which she made no direct comment on) have been poured into every word. After reading it, the station's director, Fuse, refrained from publishing it, so Ulala turned it in to the Space Police herself. It was then seized, or rather received, as a part of the case file. The full text is shown below.

I Want to be the Best Dish in the Galaxy

Ulala's stupendous Spring in the zero-oxygen stratosphere Let's go everyone, to the end of the Galaxy! Join the grains of stars spilling out of the Milky Way

Tanka on the side

The silver bell rings Let's meet up, hang out again The brass section roars Whoa, oh no, go go go! Ho! Take this, take that, hiya, ha

Thank you for this dish

Aah, will I ever be As delicious as space peking duck? I wonder how hungry Purge was To settle for his own trash TV

Spaaaaaace Love & Peace!

-

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p. 178 Miss Ulala's Changing Room

Items Miss Ulala isn’t the tidiest gal, but she does a bang-up job maintaining her mics. All of them, except for "Ulala’s Mic" are gifts collected after some exchanges with key individuals registered in the Character Profile index. Wireless mics were installed inside all the ones that started out as props. I wonder how long the green onion will last. We'll have to watch out for the smell.

01: Ulala Mic [Unlock Requirements] Unlocked from the start

A newly produced company mic used for reporting. Ulala painted it blue herself.

02:​ King of Frypans [Unlock Requirements] Check profile 031, the Chef (green)'s, after rescuing him

Proof of the Chef's victory in the 225th Annual Space Cook-off. This beauty has excellent thermal conductivity.

03: ​Ice Cream Cone [Unlock Requirements] After clearing Report 3, check profile 012, Noize's, then profiles 050 and 046, and then check profile 012 again

It's actually a microphone designed for the undercover investigations at shopping malls. It's even equipped with a small camera!

04: Legendary Egg Beater [Unlock Requirements] Check profile 032, the Chef (aqua)'s, after rescuing him

Made from metal extracted from some ancient ruins. Great for whippin' things into shape.

-

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p. 179

05: Lollipop [Unlock Requirements] Check profiles 036, 037, 038, and 039, the Space Music Primary Schoolers quartet's, after rescuing them

It's a bit sticky. Is this thing pre-licked?

06: Lantern [Unlock Requirements] After rescuing the Neo-Japan Astronauts, check profiles 028, 027, 026, 025, 024, then 028 again, theirs

A souvenir from Edo village in Sunlight City. It's made from washi paper and is quite expensive.

​07: Super Ladle [Unlock Requirements] Check profile 033, the Chef (yellow)'s, after rescuing him

Cookware with a hardness of over 8 billion die. Only two others exist in the entire galaxy.

08: Big Mug [Unlock Requirements] Check profile 053, the Rescue Police (troop)'s, after rescuing the Rescue Squad

Perfect for Milky Way Ginger Ales. Includes a semi-natural cooling device.

09: Folding Fan [Unlock Requirements] Check profile 045, Class President Nervous's, after rescuing him

The mother of Class President Nervous adored this fan. It creates a pleasant scent when you wave it.

​10: Crimson Rose [Unlock Requirements] After Clearing Report 5, check profile 009, Jaguar's

Laced with Jaguar's passion, this rose will forever bloom, never will it wither.

11: Ear of Corn [Unlock Requirements] After clearing Report 3, check profile 012, Noize's, then profiles 022 and 018, then check profile 012 again

A mic used in the undercover investigations of large scale farms. It's designed to lower the guards of opponents.

12: ​Green Onion [Unlock Requirements] After Clearing Report 6, check profile 003, Pine's

All-natural and picked from an actual garden, a rarity now and days. Absolute ambrosia when cooked properly.

-

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[elliesmainhoe]

BLOODY

Boxer!Ellie X Physio!Reader

Summary: Now her physio, you treat Ellie's wounds after a match.

Contents: Blood, injury, patching up, Ellie knocking someone unconscious, treatment of wounds, violence, comfort, fluff.

Part 2 of Motivation

My Masterlist

It was the sixth round of twelve. Ellie had promised that this fight would be easy and it would last three rounds at the most. But her she was bloody nose and panting as she glared at her opponent, angry at their resilience.

Ellie's opponent looked worse than she did. A black eye forming on the left side of their face and a busted lip, dripping blood from the open cut. It had been a month since Ellie's proposal for you to be her personal physical therapist and medic, and inevitability you agreed.

Now you were watching her throw punch after punch at someone's face, the crowd cheering and spurring on the violence. Ironically, you have never liked contact sports, you'd seen too many cases of sports men who played violent sport suffer horrible irreversible injuries that lead to an early retirement.

You couldn't say that you liked boxing. But Ellie did, Ellie loved it, she lived for it, it was her whole world and she knew the risks, because believe me you made sure she did, and she chose to still take part in it.

The sound of a bell ringing out drew you from your thoughts, it's chimes signalled the end of the sixth round and the beginning of the one minute interval between rounds.

Ellie's coach rushed between the rings ropes and began speaking to her, obviously trying to psyche her up for the next round. You could tell she wasn't paying him any attention, her eyes scanned the crowd of staff, her gaze softened when she spotted you.

You raised an eyebrow at her, tapping your wrist as if to say 'hurry up and knock him out'. Her smile turned into a smirk as she gestured a mock salute mouthing a joking 'Yes ma'am' and scoffed when you rolled your eyes at her.

Ellie's coach gave hera rag and she wiped her face of any sweat and blood she could before the bell rang out signalling the end of the interval. Everyone who wasn't the two fighters left the ring and soon Ellie began dishing out punches once again.

The opponent backed away while trying to dodge Ellie's swings until they found themself backed up against the ropes, now cornered by Ellie and forced to take attack after attack to the head. You could see the dizziness build up in their eyes, their arms were up, trying helplessly to shield their head from the harsh punches Ellie was dishing out.

But finally Ellie's opponents legs have out, and now laid unconscious on the padded ground and the crowd roared with excitement. The audience began the countdown.

10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1

Ellie had won. Thank God. And the referee entered the ring along with some medics. The medics attended the unconscious state of Ellie's opponent and the ref locked hands with Ellie raising it in the air as a sign of victory, the cheers that echoed throughout the room made a cocky smirk spread out on her face.

Relief fled throughout your body, watching Ellie closely, studying every bruise, cut and affliction she had accumulated throughout the match. As soon as she stepped out of the ring you rushed towards her, wrapping you arms around her shoulders carefully, trying not to disturb any angry purple bruises.

"Hey baby" she leaned down and whispered in your ears, wrapping her arms around your waist and rocking side to side. "Let's talk somewhere quieter, too loud out here to hear your pretty voice properly." She hummed before holding your hand and guiding you towards a bathroom backstage.

When you were both inside, she turned around locking the door and sighing. "Thought you were gonna lose then." You teased and laughed when Ellie's face dropped in mock offense.

"Rude. I never lose, especially not when my girls watching me... What are you doing..?"

"Looking for a first aid kit."

"of course you are" she scoffs and rolls her eyes playfully. When you finally find the white plastic box with a red cross in the middle you push yourself onto the countertop, gesturing to Ellie to come closer, she does slipping in between your legs and resting her hands on your legs, gripping your thighs.

You took out an antibacterial wipe, wiping down the various, bruises, scratches and blood on her face. Grabbing and applying various creams, balms and plasters onto scratches and cuts that littered her muscular body. Due to her wearing only a sports bra and gym shorts, you had easy access to all over her body.

"You're lucky y'know. This could've been a lot worse..." "Yeah but it wasn't, so don't worry angel, I'll be fine, can't say the same for the other guy" she chuckled, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

She leaned into you, tilting her head to the side and pressing her slightly chapped lips to your softly. You hummed against her lips, happily tugging at her hair.

"cmon sweetheart, we should go celebrate my win"

-------

Bro I wrote this and didn't save it properly and Tumblr deleted it 😭 so here it is rewritten.

Also I don't know boxing so excuse any errors when I'm writing about the boxing match lol. ❤️

NOT PROOFREAD

[badbatchposts]

Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Chapter 12

While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.

Relevant tags/content warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use

Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!

Read the full fic so far on AO3

Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9 l Ch. 10 l Ch. 11

Chapter 12 summary: The Batch make a plan for infiltrating the villa.

Hunter glanced up at Dara’s dozing form curled on top of the Marauder and shook his head. The sun was just peeking over the horizon as he and Echo returned from their surveillance shift, and he could hear the chattering of the planet’s small woodland creatures all waking up at once. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know why Dara was sleeping outside. If it had been one of his squad, whose quirks were innumerable and often incomprehensible, he wouldn’t even bother to find out. As it was, he couldn’t be sure of the right approach to take with this temporary member about whom they knew so little.

Entering the ship to find the others wide awake, he thought maybe they’d have a better idea. “Any clue why Dara slept on top of the ship last night?” the Sergeant asked.

Tech and Wrecker looked pointedly at Crosshair. “She did not seem very pleased when they returned from town,” Tech observed.

Hunter crossed his arms. “What did you do now?” The sniper only shrugged, a smirk lurking dangerously at the corners of his mouth.

Wrecker elbowed him and grinned mischievously. “Hey! Be nice to her. Dinner was so good last night I think I might ask her to marry me.”

Crosshair’s expression quickly turned to a scowl. “The mission went fine. We got the intel. It’s not my fault if she wants to sleep on the roof.”

“Maybe she’s just sick of us,” Echo speculated. “Sounds like she spends a lot of time alone. It’s probably an adjustment to be cramped up in the Marauder with five men day in and day out.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” Hunter muttered.

Tech looked at Crosshair curiously. “How did Dara do, by the way?”

The sniper met his gaze with shared understanding. His brother may not have been as hostile as he was, but he was smart enough to know that something was off with her. “A little too well.”

For once there was no bickering on the subject, only a thoughtful silence from the group of clones before Hunter sighed heavily. “We’ll keep a close eye on her tonight. Wrecker, go wake her up so we can make a plan.”

Wrecker popped out of the hatch and returned a short time later, followed by Dara, who was blinking blearily. She seemed out of it as she undertook the painstaking ritual of preparing her tea. Not for the first time, Crosshair’s eyes were drawn to her hands: the patient tap of her fingers against the pouch as she tipped the herb into her mug; the way she fiddled with the metal straw, arranging it just so; the curve of her grasp as she poured the water. He watched her mouth as she took her first sip, noticing the bags under her eyes and the way she rubbed, absentmindedly, at the purple and reddish blotch he’d left on her neck.

“Sleep well?” he taunted.

She pursed her lips and passed the beverage along to Hunter. Finding the Sergeant also watching attentively for her answer, she shrugged.

“Was looking at the stars for a bit before bed and fell asleep by accident. Wasn’t too comfortable but I’ve slept on worse.”

Wrecker laughed heartily. “Us too. Remember that time with the leeches on Nal Hutta?”

“Don’t remind me,” Echo shuddered. “I still have nightmares about it.”

“Fortunately, I do not believe there are any leeches on this planet. Although it does appear that Dara may have been bitten by a large insect overnight,” Tech observed. Crosshair looked at him closely, finding a hint of amusement in his eyes; Tech could miss a lot of subtlety, but he certainly wasn’t naïve. He knew that what he was looking at on Dara’s neck wasn’t an insect bite.

And everybody thought Crosshair was the shit-stirrer.

By the way Dara’s jaw tightened nearly imperceptibly, she hadn’t missed his brother’s tease. “Got hit by a branch walking home in the dark, actually,” she countered, daring him to call her out on the lie.

Hunter turned a thoughtful gaze to her. “Are you alright? You seem…”

“I’m just a little concerned about the mission,” Dara interrupted, eagerly redirecting the conversation. “Something the director of the lab said last night made me think that Prium is developing a project for the Empire. And if that’s the case, the security protocols might be tougher to break through than we expected.”

“Not for us,” Wrecker asserted confidently.

“Hmm. We’ll keep it in mind,” Hunter mused. “Right. Let’s share intel and start making a plan.”

Dara gave them a rundown of what she had gleaned from her conversations in the market and the bar. In turn, the others reported their discoveries from the past day and night of surveillance, which had revealed plenty about the villa’s security protocols, the guards’ schedules and paths of their rounds, and possible entry points.

However, as Dara had voiced, breaking in wouldn’t be without its complications. “Unfortunately, it appears that I will be unable to replicate our trick for disabling the proximity sensors and outside cameras from our last job,” Tech admitted. “The security systems here cannot be accessed remotely. I will need to do so from the control room inside of the villa.”

“What are our chances of sneaking in undetected while those systems are still active?” Hunter mused.

“Very low,” Tech replied matter-of-factly.

Wrecker cracked his knuckles with enthusiasm. “So we rush the guards, stun them all, and break in by force!” he proclaimed.

Echo placed a stern hand on his largest brother’s shoulder. “Hate to burst your bubble, but if we do that and they send for reinforcements from town, we could wind up having a lot of trouble getting out of there. Not to mention how much harder it will be for Tech and I to break into the lab if they initiate a security lockdown. And if the Empire’s really invested in this guy’s work, we can’t rule out that we might draw Imperial attention before we can get off planet.”

A smile twitched at the corners of Dara’s still-weary mouth. “Tech, could you load everything you need to override their security systems on a datapad so that somebody else can just plug in and run it? Then only one person would have to make it in, get to the control room, and the others can sneak through an accessible entry point.”

Tech blinked owlishly behind his goggles. “Of course.”

Hunter furrowed his brow suspiciously. “Are you suggesting one of us poses as a guard to get in there? I thought you said all the guards are locals—we won’t be able to slip past, the others will know we’re not one of them.”

Dara shrugged. “All the guards and other villa workers are locals. But Raab said that a lot of the scientists at the lab come from off-world.”

Wrecker grinned. “Tech sure could pose as a scientist.”

In response, Dara dug into her pack, pulling out a white lab coat and a key card. “He could, but I don’t think this will fit him. Sorry.”

Crosshair’s eyes glittered almost admiringly before he remembered to scowl. “Now how did you manage to steal those, burk’yc?”

She glared back at him. “Some of us were actually doing our jobs last night. Obviously you weren’t paying very close attention.”

He leaned forward. “Is that what you were doing? Could’ve fooled me. Maybe I was too busy keeping an eye out for your sorry shebs during your pathetic flirting.”

“Whose keycard is that?” Tech interrupted. His nose was buried in his datapad, no doubt already preparing the programs necessary to dismantle the villa’s security.

Dara gave Crosshair one more angry squint before looking away. “Raab’s. I’ll say I work for him and that he sent me to get something important. I get in, get the rest of you in undetected, and then we rendezvous at the lab and take it from there.”

Everyone looked towards Hunter, waiting for his approval. Finally, the Sergeant nodded. “Okay. Let’s get to work.”

Tag List: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon

[lynnieos]

Ranking WxS ships, from least to most favorite

Okay listen we all know what's on top let me ramble about the other wandasho ships

#7: Emunene

I know this seems bad. Listen. I don't actually ship Emunene.... They're fucking adorable and the subtext is there and I LOVE LOVE LOVE their relationships in the stories I've read so far just. Not romantically? Like I definitely like them romantically but I vastly prefer (in terms of girlxgirl ships) honaemu or enanene. I still love them. 7.5/10

#6: Emukasa

This used to be my fave ship lol. I still adore them and their dynamic with each other, I just don't think about them as much as I used to... But don't get me wrong they still mean so much to me... 8/10

#5: Ruinene

Omg I fucking love Ruinene. I'm writing a ruinene-centered fic and i always have so much fun with their characters!! Their dynamic is just really fun to me and it's fun to play around with them knowing each other for a decade for both emotional beats and humor. 8.5/10

#4: Emurui

I. Love. Emurui. Like. A lot. I've never actually written them yet but Ive drawn them and they're so fucking FUN. the autism to autism communication. The Fucking Purple And Pink. They make me so fucking ajsjjsksjsjsjs. 8.9/10

#3: Nenekasa

I hate them. I hate them sm. I've written 1k words about them ballroom dancing that's how much I hate them. I fuck so fucking HARD with the way they bounce off of each other and also since I'm also a fucking loser I make them sappy as hell. I hate them. I hate them. 10/10

#2 Ruikasa. Wait. What....?

Yeah idk what you were expecting but I'm sure it wasn't this huh. I am unhealthily obsessed with ruikasa. I have at least ten WIP ruikasa fics. I read almost exclusively ruikasa fics. I think about them all the time. I am not exaggerating. they're not the best ship imo. But they're my favorite. 12/10

And of course the winner is you guessed it

#1: Polyshow

YEAHAHWGEWHGAHAGAHVA!!!! POLYSHO!!!! MY FUCKING BABIES!!!! THEY AKL LOVE EACH OTHER SO FUCKING MUCH THEY MAKE ME SICK I HATE THEM!!!!!! okay. like they're my second favorite but god DAMN do I eat so WELL whenever I read a WxS story because they're all so obnoxiously in love with each other. Platonic romantic queerplatonic I don't CARE. I LOVE THEM. THEY'RE PERFECT. also I write polysho the most in character so they get bonus points for that. Bonus bonus points for polysho fans always showing the fuck UP for any polysho content. I got so many comments on my (discontinued so don't read it) polysho fic and it made me so happy. 88/10

[zestialmorde]

The zestmilla angst saga (a small table of contents)

bc i know how irritating it can get to shift through ^^

colored by the last person in the thread or whoever answered the ask for the one offs (green for zestial purple for carmilla)

the kiss

the date proposal

Carmilla's best anon interactions: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Zestials best anon interactions: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Zestials thread with spooky (same mun as carmilla... kinda a spinoff?)

the flowers

the meetup (conclusion)

@weapons-maker-carmilla thank you for the fun week-ish, you're always the best to get into shenanigans with.

bonus bad photoshop

[girlzwfun]

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹🍒 LOVERGIRL is the debut full album of BTS member cheri released OCTOBER 03, 2022. the album consists of 12 tracks including the pre-release single STAY TONIGHT and title track 보라빛 밤 (PURPLE NIGHT). the album was promoted for two weeks and both tracks secured a total of eight music show wins.

🪩 — tracklist

1. DIZZY

2. RED LIPSTICK

3. 보라빛 밤 (PURPLE NIGHT)

4. BLACK PEARL

5. MAGNETIC

6. CRAZY LIKE YOU

7. STAY TONIGHT

8. OUT LOUD

9. DREAM OF YOU

10. ALL NIGHT LONG

11. GODDESS

12. LETTER OF LIGHT

🪩 — styling

보라빛 밤 (PURPLE NIGHT)

STAY TONIGHT

🪩 — album contents

lover ver.

outbox ( 105 x 102 mm. ) + photobook ( 80 ) + mini poster + sticker sheet ( 1ea ) + accordion lyric poster ( 1ea ) + cd + photo cards ( 2 out of 16 ) + hand written letter ( 1ea ) + charm bracelet & charms ( 1ea )

girl ver.

outbox ( 105 x 102 mm ) + photobook ( 80p ) + poster + sticker sheet ( 1ea ) + accordion lyric poster ( 1ea ) + cd + photo cards ( 2 out of 16 ) + hair clips ( 4ea ) + acrylic rings ( 2ea ) + charm bracelet & charms ( 1ea )

sunrise ver.

outbox ( 105 x 102 mm ) + photobook ( 80p ) + poster + sticker sheet ( 1ea ) + accordion lyric poster ( 1ea ) + cd + photo cards ( 2 out of 16 ) + sleep mask ( 1ea ) + charm bracelet & charms ( 1ea )

sunset ver.

outbox ( 105 x 102 mm ) + photobook ( 80p ) + poster + sticker sheet ( 1ea ) + accordion lyric poster ( 1ea ) + cd + photo cards ( 2 out of 16 ) + fragrance card ( 1ea ) + charm bracelet & charms ( 1ea )

🪩 — era notes

What a debut. tbh no one was expecting her to hit the ground running like this

fans and non fans heard stay tonight and were sat

they heard the other tracks and were floored

she earned herself two mama nominations with this — best female artist & best (solo) dance performance.

unfortunately she did not win nor did she attend the awards.

she hosted a fan meet the week after yet to come busan for the album and had the time of her life

cheri loves her job fr she was so happy with this album

[pisupsala]

One for The History Books [Chapter 20] [Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw]

[Summary] You are an archivist at the Pentagon, sent on assignment to TOPGUN to catalog and report on a top-secret mission. In the days under the Californian sun, a certain naval aviator puts your once orderly life in a tailspin that you might never recover from.

[Pairing] Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader / Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!oc

[Warnings] Mature content: swearing, (explicit) smut. 18+ only.

[Words] 4.3k

[Index] All Chapters | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | | Epilogue

[Library]

Chapter 20 - Reaching the shallows

It’s getting dark, and you haven’t moved from the spot in your living room yet. After you said goodbye to your sister, you just sat there, tears streaming down your face until you are pretty sure you have run out of tears for a lifetime.

Exhausted, you lay down, resting your heated skin on the cool floor, watching the light from coming from the window slowly die. 

Maybe you’ll just stay here. It’s as a good place as any you surmise. 

You don’t know what to do.

So you just wait.

It’s pitch dark in your apartment by the time you need to get up. Your hip and shoulder hurt, your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton, and your stomach feels acrid. Getting up is like moving through molasses, every nerve and tendon aching.

The corners of your mind are getting snowed in again, making it hard to think. Not that you particularly want to think. You just want this not to be.

You drag yourself to bed, not even bothering to get changed. The moment your head hits your pillow, you can’t help but notice how your sheets smell of him. With the last semblance of your energy, you fling his shirt against the opposite wall. It flops down on the floor pathetically.

God-fucking-damnit, you can’t catch a break. Should you just sleep on the couch? That spot on the floor was pretty sweet too, actually. 

You groan. Jesus, you are not seriously getting chased out of your own bed by someone who isn’t even here. You blindly push Bradley’s pillow down the bed. There’s really no need for this now.

When your alarm wakes you on Monday morning, you don’t know what to make of having Bradley’s pillow wrapped in your arms, face pressed into the fabric.

Well, you are a sucker. But what else is new.

You try not to notice there’s no message from Bradley on your phone.

In the shower, you pettily push his body wash from the shelf. You watch it clatter on to the tiles at your feet, the water raining down onto the plastic loudly. Halfheartedly, you nudge the bottle away from the stream of water with your foot.

That did nothing for your mood.

You’re not even mad. Or maybe you are. You are definitely sad, right? You mostly feel kind of sick to your stomach.

Wrapping yourself up in a large towel, you wipe the condensation from the bathroom mirror. You haven’t really gotten a good look at yourself since yesterday. The bruise under your eye is undoubtedly darker than it was—a splotchy purple smear over the bottom part of your eye socket. 

Tears suddenly prickle in your eyes again. Bradley looked so scared. You’ve never felt so deeply attached to someone, while simultaneously having such a painful distance between each other.

“You don’t have time for this.” You tell your reflection sternly. Setting your mouth in a hard line, you start rummaging through your criminally underused make up bag. There is going to be some sort of concealer in there for sure.

It doesn’t look great. The darkest parts of the bruise still come through the makeup, looking vaguely like a smooshed blueberry. You shrug at yourself. It’ll have to do.

You have work to do. Last time - fucking last time, like Bradley just fucking off on a whim is a regular occurrence in your life now—your broken heart actually landed you in plenty hot water at work. None of that anymore. You’ll fuck up on your own time, thank you very much. Right now, you have a PhD to complete.

At work, you are pretty sure people have noticed the bruise, but mercifully no one comments on it. However, at lunch—the one you don’t eat because you feel like your stomach is getting strangled—your resolve breaks. Bradley has still not written you. Not a sign of life, let alone an apology.

You text Beth.

“Still nothing. Should I at least text hi?” 

The answer is immediate. 

“NO!!!!”

Sighing, you put your phone away. That many exclamation marks is pretty uncalled for. Yet, it doesn’t sit well with you—you want to talk to Bradley so badly. You want to fix this. Tell him you’re sorry. 

Maybe you’re just not cut out for power games like this.

Every time you check your phone during the day and there’s no message, a little part of you dies. Each time you feel like you’re taking a step closer to the edge of “this is really it, huh?”

You are not angry. 

You just feel like you have no more fight left in you. 

Last time, you at least tried to look for a way out of the raging snowstorm threatening to consume you. This time you elect to just sit it out. Plopped down in the middle of a snow bank, as the snow mounts higher and higher around you.

It’s as a good place as any.

On Tuesday night, you are in bed early. You are cuddled up to Bradley’s pillow, watching an endless stream of YouTube videos on your laptop to keep your mind from wandering any further towards the edge. You want to hold out hope.

Your phone buzzes.

You don’t need to look to see who it is. Your stomach twists painfully while your heart jumps. It can always only be him. Eyes closed, you sigh.

Almost, almost you don’t want to look. What if it’s bad news? What if he can’t forgive you?

Enough. You pull your phone out.

“lets talk” 

You wait. That’s it?

Well. At least he texted? You reply quickly: 

“Ok.”

Yeah. That could have been put a… nicer way. Good going. You watch the speech bubble and disappear. Should you…

You hesitate for a minute.

Your sister would be so disappointed, and maybe you’re just too much of fucking softie, but you cannot handle imagining Bradley struggle like this.

“Do you want to talk now?”

The moment you hit send, his message comes in.

“i miss you”  

Great. Now you feel like a complete asshole. You should have kept your mouth shut as per usual. Heart beating in your throat, truly hoping that this a positive sign, you reply.

“I miss you too.” 

“lets talk in person” The messages come in quick succession. “soon”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The conversation between you and Bradley feels stale, like chewing through days old bread. At least you are talking again? You don’t really get beyond daily how are yous, good mornings and sleep wells, but you surmise it’s better than nothing. So far, he hasn’t clarified when he actually wants to talk. Your fingers are absolutely itching to ask and push him to make a choice. 

But you don’t. 

The message that receive late in the day on Thursday leaves you all the more surprised.

“can i leave some stuff at yours for safekeeping while i’m away?”

You can’t lie—your heart is jumping with joy. It’s not the apology you’re waiting for, it’s not even the start of the conversation you need to have, but damnit, Bradley has a knack for making you feel special.

“Sure. When are you coming by?”

“will tomorrow evening work for you?”

“Yeah, no problem.” 

You wait for Bradley to write you more, but no other messages come in. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, wanting to ask him so many things: will he be staying? Does he want to talk? What does he want you to keep safe for him?

In the end, you gracelessly drop your phone into your bag next to your desk. You’ll find out soon enough what the deal is. And it’s not like you had plans for Friday. Moping in private, maybe. Lots of YouTube. Not thinking about the state of your relationship, mostly.

Fuck.

These are going to be a long 24 hours.

When you finally return home from work on Friday, you are suddenly horrified by the absolute state of your apartment. The wineglasses have been on the coffee table a whole week now. Bed unmade, your laundry is piling out of the hamper, his shirt in the corner. Bradley’s body wash is still languishing in the corner of your shower. It’s like your entire apartment is grieving with you.

Ultimately, you don’t tidy up, nor get changed out of your work clothes. Whatever is going on in your apartment is your business and your business alone, you think tersely. Normally you would slip into some yoga pants or shorts to hang out, but somehow that feels too vulnerable. Your slacks and silk button up shirt are like an armor.  

It’s nearly seven when your doorbell rings. You had been pretty calm, you think, but now your blood is audibly rushing through your veins. With shaking hands, you buzz Bradley in. You go to open the door to your apartment, and you catch sight of Bradley walking up the stairs.

He’s looking down, carrying what looks like a cardboard storage box. You fling yourself against the wall of the hallway, feeling like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks so cool and collected, and so, so good. The dark blue shirt straining over his upper arms, his curls lightly tousled after a long day. It pains you.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you wait, heart almost beating out of your chest.

“Hi.” Bradley’s voice is careful. He’s standing in the door opening, somewhat awkwardly. You realize you are blocking the entrance.

“Hey.” You reply cautiously. You don’t know what you were expecting, but you can help but feel crestfallen. “Sorry, come in.” 

You move out of the way and walk towards the living room. You quickly look back, taking in Bradley as he walks behind you. He appears tired, his tan skin looking almost dull. He holds himself in that same effortless and confident style you would recognize anywhere, but you can feel the weight that is dragging him down behind the facade.

Not quite knowing what to do, you stand in the middle of the room, facing each other. Bradley gently put the box down. As he straightens back up, he finally gets a good look at you.

Your face is drawn, the bruise under your eye poorly concealed by fading make up. You have your arms crossed over your chest like you are trying to insulate yourself from the situation. It’s been long since he’s seen you in work clothes, so formal, like you’re putting up a wall. 

He wants to grab you, pull you against him in the way that always makes you squeal in delight and apologize a thousand time over until you stop looking at him with such pain in your eyes. But he also knows just an apology won’t cut it anymore. He dragged this out for too long.

As you stand there, you feel like a pot that is about to boil over. You desperately want to break the painful silence and close the cutting distance between you. Beth’s words keep ringing in your ears. If you do that, you’ll never be happy.

“I want to apologize-” Bradley starts.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt out that same moment, not being able to take it anymore. You both abruptly stop talking.

Pain.

“I interrupted you.” You shift awkwardly on your feet. “Please…” 

“Ah yeah…” Bradley replies softly. He takes a deep breath, hand flexing nervously at his side. “I want to apologize for everything I said last week.” He swallows dryly. “For walking out.”

You wait for him to continue, barely able to look at him.

“You deserve more than just an apology. You deserve me doing better…” Bradley trails off, voice vulnerable. “...I just hope you’re still willing me to give that chance.” 

Head down, you nod. Your eyes are trained firmly on the floor—you don’t want him to see the tears that have already started to form.

“I… I said some pretty awful things to you.” You reply, voice thick. “Not matter how angry I was, that was uncalled for. I’m sorry.” 

“I’m pretty sure I needed to hear those things.” 

“You walked out on me for it.” You can’t conceal the pain in your voice. “You disappeared again.” 

“I couldn’t handle it.” Bradley takes a shaky breath. “Because you were right. And I spent so long avoiding my past, the nightmares… that it seemed like the only thing I could do.”

You let out a long breath. 

“And next time?” It feels like you are purposefully driving a dagger into your own heart with those words. You don’t want to say it, but you need to know. “One day you’ll walk out for good. And that… terrifies me.”

“I -” Bradley falters. God, he wants to comfort you, but he can’t find the words and hesitates to cross the few feet, which feel like light years, between you. Your tears are flowing freely now; through your lashes, you see them drip down the front of your blouse. “I’ll stay with you as long as you’ll have me.”

“I want…” His voice breaks for a second. Balling his fist, he steels himself. He needs to spit it out already. “I want to there not to be a next time. But I can't—I need you. I can’t do this by myself.”   

Admitting it out loud to you finally gives Bradley the feeling that just a fraction of the weight on him might be lifting. There is seldom a prefect moment for anything. The only right time is right now.  

“The nightmares —,” Your head shoots up at the mention of it. Bradley’s heart clenches at your bloodshot eyes, but he averts his gaze. It’s now or never before he loses his nerve.

“They started after the mission. I dream I’m flying when all alarms start blaring. There’s a SAM incoming on my six. I’m out of flares- it’s so close, there’s no way to outmaneuver it. The moment I look back, I’m in a two-seater. For a split second, that replays over and over in my head-” He stops for a few seconds to calm his suddenly rapid breathing. 

“First I only ever saw Mav in that seat, yelling commands at me. Then there were more faces and voices, and they started to blur. I saw my father—he was silent…” His voice raspy now. He’s pretty sure he’s not crying, he hasn’t cried in years. “I guess because I can’t really remember his voice. Sometimes I heard my mother’s voice yelling my name, from when she was sickest and most scared.” 

Bradley is so focussed on trying to explain what he sees in his darkest moments, looking everywhere but you, feeling completely exposed, he doesn’t notice you appearing next to him.

Gently, you unfurl his balled fist and thread your fingers through his. He falls quiet for a moment, while you stand next to him silently. You are so shocked that you can’t even cry. So you just stand there together for a moment. Bradley closes his eyes, brows furrowed.

“And then…” He breathes in through his nose, squeezing your hand almost painfully. “Then I started seeing you. In a split second of terror, calling out to me before you get engulfed in the fireball along everyone else… and I put you there. Every single person.” His breathing is rapid.  

“And there’s not a fucking thing I can do to save you. And It’s my fault.” 

It feels like his entire body is covered in abrasions—like he tore off his skin to expose his more vulnerable self. He unclenches his hand, but you squeeze back. Wordlessly, you lean your cheek against Bradley’s shoulder, waiting for his breathing to calm down and fall in sync with yours.

“I’m sorry, Bradley.” You tell him softly. “I hate that you have to suffer like that.” 

“I’ve never told anyone before.” He replies, almost dazed. It feels so strange now it’s not a secret anymore. Strangely, he feels lighter. 

“Thank you for telling me.” You murmur. Truth is, you expected this would be something more than monsters under the bed, but hearing Bradley essentially tearing himself apart at the seams to tell you, makes you feel like the biggest asshole in the world. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to, though.” 

“No, you absolutely should have.” Bradley counters. “I’m pretty sure I would have let this eat me alive keeping it from you.”   

“Why?” The question falls from your lips almost automatically. But you suppose if this is the time to throw all the cards on the table, you might as well.

“Because I didn’t want you to leave me.” Bradley says it so matter-of-factly, it takes you aback. 

“Do—Jesus—do you truly think so poorly of me?” Your voice suddenly high. Looking up at Bradley, he finally meets your gaze.

“What? No.” He seems genuinely confused.

“You’d think I’d leave you at the first sign of trouble?” You’d actually feel offended, if you weren’t more panicked about Bradley apparently thinking you���d be that shallow. 

“Everyone else did.” Bradley reply is so soft, so heartbroken, it stops your thoughts dead in their tracks. 

“Oh Bradley…” You sigh. You’ve really put your foot in it. “I wouldn’t have fought like that if that was the case.” You search his eyes, and all you see is pain. “And I’m still here, still fighting.” You assure him.

“I can’t be the man you deserve.” Bradley suddenly admits. You blanch. “Not today, probably not tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll get there. Hell, I don’t even know where to go from here. But I think I can get there with you by my side.”

You’ve truly never wanted to slap sense into him more than at that moment. Instead, you grab him by the collar with your free hand, forcing him to look at you.

“What the actual fuck are you talking about?” You bite out. Bradley’s eyes widen at your sudden mood change. “What I deserve? Forget that bullshit! Consider rather what I want, shit, consider what I need.”  

Your tear stained cheeks are flaming red from indignation. You launch in what can only be described as the patented Williams spitfire barrage, not letting Bradley get a word in edge ways before you are done and well satisfied he finally gets it through his pretty but thick fucking skull he wasn’t the only one who is deeply invested in this relationship.

“You think I’d still be around after practically losing you the first time after San Diego, two fucking deployments and then some, plus you walking out last week if I didn’t fucking love you?! If I didn’t get what I need from this relationship, from you?!” Your voice is resolute, steadily rising in volume. 

“Did you think I couldn’t handle you being a whole person, flaws and all? There’s a reason I was asking you to finally let me in. I want you to treat me as your equal, and fucking understand that watching you hurt, hurts me too.” 

You take a breath, as Bradley opens his mouth to say something. No. You are not done yet.

“If I couldn’t offer you even a fucking semblance of the support and comfort you give me, it would be me who doesn’t deserve you.” Bradley’s eyes are large, a red tinge graces to the top of his ears. The fire in you dims and your voice softens. “What I’m saying is… I’ll be with you every step of the way, but you have to let me.” 

Bradley heard your barrage, but his brain short circuits on every response. All he keeps circling back to you admitting you love him. He knows the words, but he can barely comprehend them.

You… love him? 

Last week he was so angry he didn’t pay much heed to your almost-slip-of-the-tongue, but this time it seemed so much more… real. Eyes blazing, swearing at him, in the heat of the moment—he really shouldn’t think it so hot, not matter how much he normally enjoys getting a rise out of you.

Your hand is still clasped around the collar of his t-shirt. You’re looking at him with those big shining eyes—challenging him to dare argue with you after that. 

He won’t.

Agonizingly slowly, almost cautiously as if he’s afraid he’ll scare you off, he bends his head over to yours. You don’t move, waiting for Bradley to complete the motion. Gently, he ghosts his lips over yours, waiting for you to respond. You let go of Bradley’s collar, splaying your hand over the wrinkled fabric on his chest instead before responding in kind, softly pressing your mouth against his. 

If a kiss can feel like coming home, then this it, Bradley surmises. 

Neither of you moves to deepen the kiss, simply content at sharing a deeply intimate moment while your breath mingles. 

There is nothing left to prove, it’s enough to just be.

You have no idea how long you stand like that, lips touching, fingers still intertwined. Bradley pulls away a fraction, just so he can see your face. 

“Just so we’re clear, I fucking love you too.” He murmurs softly, with a ghost of that trademark smirk tugging at his lips.

Oh Christ, you really blurted that out whole this time, didn’t you?

“You fucking better.” You counter, pursing your lips playfully, trying to ignore the furious blush spreading over your face.

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

You end up sitting on the floor together, leaning against the couch. Bradley’s arm wrapped around you, as you rest your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The silence that was tortuous before is soothing now. Just sitting there together, the orange light of dusk reflecting on the surrounding walls, you finally have some time to heal together.

Your stomach growls.

You shift uncomfortably. Fuck. Being an unfortunate subscriber to the heartbreak diet, you only had a bunch of coffee and a candy bar to tide you over today. Everything else tends to come out pretty quickly, as your stomach has been in absolute knots the whole week. Not that you’ll ever admit to that.

“Are you hungry?” Bradley asks softly, like he’s scared to break the comfortable atmosphere—like your stomach didn’t already do that.

“I should probably eat something.” You admit. “Did you eat?”

Bradley shakes his head. You know you have scarily little food in the house.

“Want to order pizza?” You smile up at him. “Like that first weekend?” 

A grin breaks out on Bradley’s face. A real one that reaches his eyes. It makes your heart beat faster when you see him like this. When he smiles like that at you. Because of you. 

Yeah, you completely blurted out you loved him without a second thought, but… how could you not? If felt so natural to say, you didn’t even beat an eyelash.

Hell, you refused to examine what on earth possessed you to almost tell him in the heat of your argument last week, because you really didn’t want to get into that kind of self-introspection hellhole while figuring out how to navigate the mess you made together. 

Loving Bradley was just another puzzle piece falling into place.

“Which one do you want?” You hold your phone up to his face.

“Hmm, you know what I like.” Bradley’s voice is too low, too smooth in your ear. You shudder involuntarily. “Get some beers too, darlin’.” 

You close your eyes for a moment. This man knows how to play you like a goddamn fiddle, and it’s so painfully obvious.

But you are also so hungry it’s almost making you dizzy.

Placing the order, you lean back against Bradley, settling back into the comfort of his arms. He presses a kiss against your hair.

“Bradley—babe, what’s in the box?” You ask, looking up at him. The cardboard box has been sitting in the middle of the room, right where Bradley placed it when he came in. You half-forgot that was his whole reason for coming, that he wanted you to hold on to something for him.

“Oh yeah- that’s…”  Bradley chuckles awkwardly.

“You don’t have to tell me.” You interrupt quickly, remembering your sister’s words: you dig in and don’t know how to stop the bleeding. “I shouldn’t pry.” 

“No, I brought it for that exact reason, actually.” Bradley admits lightly. “If there’s one person who would know what to do with it and that I trust completely, it would be you.” 

You blush, not knowing how to respond.

“I spoke to Mav in the past week.” Bradley starts. “Penny says hi, by the way.” 

You look at Bradley, eyebrows raised in surprise. Penny remembers who you are? And Bradley spoke to Mitchell…about you?

“And I guess…what we got to…,” Bradley contemplates his words from a moment. “I have a hard time talking about my past. It feels like it’s all overshadowed by my mom’s death, problems with Mav - like it infected everything that came before.” 

You regard him carefully. Bradley seems at ease, like he’s accepted that situation as fact.

“But…” You prompt him gently.

“But I’m the one who let it come to that. I just don’t know how to untangle all those strands, I’ve spent the better part of a decade trying desperately not to think about it. And now I forgot how to talk about it.” His voice sounds so neutral, it’s raising your hackles. The fact he talks about his past in a such a calm way when it’s causing him such pain only underpins that he probably, actually forgot how to not only talk about, but also how to feel about it. Anger is easy to play off, but grief lasts.

“And what is it you’re looking to do with it now?” You ask him, not unkindly. 

“I’m not sure.” Bradley admits. “I haven’t looked in that box since college.” 

He looks at you deeply, pressing you against him tightly.

“If I’m going to open it, I want to do it with you.” 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[note] ok, so, I gave myself emotional damage writing this? It's weird, because I had been thinking about this chapter, the dialogue and everything for so long. And then when I sat down to write it, and it was fucking hard and hurt me in ways I honestly didn't anticipate? Hooray.

Anyway, good to know: the next chapter will be the last of the main story. I have an epilogue planned after that, and at least two side stories I really want to tell. So we're not totally done yet, but we're almost there. For now, happy holidays my sweethearts, and thank you for reading. <3

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