#Daisy (Big Order)

[mirainikkicentricblog]

This official artwork may be obscure, but it's still interesting.

Sakae Esuno posted this crossover artwork via Mirai Nikki's official Twitter, when the anime adaptation of 'Big Order' aired.

It seems like he clearly knew that there were some obvious parallels in the two works.

I think that the two plotters from Big Order and Mirai Nikki are putting some pressure onto their two hapless companions, while two long-haired otherworldly girls who have playful personalities are watching from afar. 

[reyturnofbensolo]

"Now I’m what’s called chief creative officer of Lucasfilm," Filoni tells Vanity Fair, which places him into the development process much earlier and in a much more expansive capacity than his previous advisory duties. He described his responsibilities as understanding the intent of the filmmakers and being a resource to them, based on his mentorship under Lucas himself, and his years spent steering The Clone Wars, Rebels, and Ahsoka.

I think Filoni will be AMAZING in this capacity(I realize this could tots blow up in my face btw but I think he will be good bts)! D/LF should’ve had him in this position years ago(I’m looking at you TROS)!! Make George proud my man(give us some dang midi-chlorians)!!!

Filoni will continue developing his film, as well as exploring a possible second season of Ahsoka, while serving in his new position.

Excited about his movie, the possibility of more Ahsoka(writer’s room please), and Dave really getting in there and making good decisions for Star Wars…YES! YES!! YES!!!

"You know me, I plan for a long game. I really do. And that encompasses a lot more than it used to, as I help other people as well," he says.

Now bring back Ben Solo and Rian Johnson!!!🙏

@TheDinkumReylo

"I know the storyline for one film. That's not to say that that's all it is, but that's what I was told about. And I imagine it will be the next film, I think. I mean, again, I don't know, post strikes and everything, how quickly everything will start up again. But yes, so far, I know the story of one film and I think people will be very excited."

I love Rey! Give her the story she deserves!! She needs a happy ending please!!!

[chqnified]

Love getting older. Like yes. I now have money to actually have that pinterest core room.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Ghost Eater

Summary: You don't like exorcists. They don't much like you either.

-----

You’d always thought big restaurants like the Brownie Industry only did well in small, midwestern towns like the one you came from. A year working in LA has taught you that, no matter where you go, people will always love garlic bread and sugar.

It’s your day off which means you’re pulling a double shift. You haven’t had time to wash your hair for the past two weeks so it’s frizzing out of your claw clip and flying wild around your face. The lighting is so dim that you’ve tripped over two black purses already, luckily not while you’re running food. The big dining room sounds like an apiary with the tittering laughter of the later adult crowd that’s filtered in from the theater across the four lane road. The main difference between the Brownie Industry here and the one back home is size. The ceiling soars overhead, supported by a series of concrete pillars separating the dining area into three sections.

Normally it would be three servers per section. Today, it’s just you in yours.

One more hour. That’s what the manager promised you. It might even be true if the host stand quits seating you after the table you’re approaching.

There are three people at the table. A woman whose hair might be light blonde or gray in the light of day, her eyes light and piercing. Her face is soft from age, emphasized by the tight, lace collar of her off-season sweater. She reminds you strongly of your mom’s nemesis on the HOA board. The man couldn’t be more out of place next to her despite their equivalent age. He’s wearing a leather jacket – again, it’s not cold here – and a Norwegian metal shirt underneath. His hair is definitely white, so white it almost glows. He’s frowning at the teenager across the table as if she’s touched his motorcycle without permission.

The teenager might be the first you’ve seen all night who doesn’t have their phone out. She’s decked out in what you consider grandma florals – a t-shirt scattered with daisy chains, a bucket hat made out of nana’s carpet bag, and a hand-crocheted scarf in pastel.  You can’t really see her face under the shadow of her hat and there’s an odd, blurred quality to the way she fiddles with her napkin. You let your eyes skip past her and back to the two adults. Teenagers don’t pay the bill.

“Welcome to Brownie Industry!” you chirp. You’re sweaty and red but the faded yellow light hides that. You’re a service industry pro so none of your exhaustion shows on your face when you ask, “Is this your first-time dining with us?”

If you weren’t so burned out, you’d have noticed before you introduced yourself.

“Are you Grady?” the woman asks. Her voice is more posh than you expected even with her lace collar. “Grady Pace?”

Fuck. There’s a noticeable temperature differential now that you’re close to them. The restaurant is warm from the number of bodies, maybe even warmer than the summer air outside, but stepping up next to their table feels like walking into an ice rink.

“I’m your waitress,” you say. You don’t have time for this conversation. You’ve got five minutes in your cycle to take their order and then you’ve got food to run. “If you need any other services from me, I have a website.”

“We messaged you,” the man says. His lips thin to the point his thick mustache covers them entirely. “You never responded.”

Because you’ve been making more money at the Brownie Industry than your other job. “I’ll take a look at it tonight.”

“Wait,” the teenager says, sitting upright. She looks from you to the adults and back again. When she smiles, there’s no humor in it. “This is why we drove eight hours to have dinner at the Brownie Industry? For her?”

“Katie, be polite—”

“I’m sorry,” Katie says, “It’s just—I found a priest, you know? An actual exorcist priest and you guys want to trust a waitress over him?”

“Ugh exorcists,” you say. The memory of sour cabbage is so heavy on your tongue that you stick your tongue out in disgust. When you see Katie’s look, you backtrack. “Effective! Definitely effective.”

“Your mistakes have cost us too much already,” the man says, shaking a finger at her. “We are not converting just for an exorcism.”

“I normally don’t agree with your father,” the woman tells Katie, “but in this case I would like to leave conversion as a last resort.”

“We wouldn’t actually convert,” Katie says, rolling her eyes.

“Pretty sure exorcists can tell when you lie,” you tell Katie. When her scowl deepens, you clear your throat. “Did you all need another minute to think about the menu?”

“We need you to help us,” the dad says. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Look, I know you’re at work and I’m sorry we’re bothering you.”

“We’re desperate,” the mom says. She reaches for her purse. “We’ll pay you. Triple the rate on your website or even quadruple. We need that thing gone by tonight.”

Katie covers her face. “Mom. You’re embarrassing me. Terry isn’t that bad.”

“Oh, he’s bad, young lady,” the dad says sternly. “A bad influence.”

“We caught her trying to perform another séance yesterday,” the mom confesses to you. She leans forward with a pinched expression. “So Terry’s friend Larry could visit too.”

“Interesting,” you say. The food bell rings, but you think you can ignore it for another minute. You study Katie’s blush. “Why did you do that?”

If she was being compelled, she won’t have an answer to your question. You’ve dealt with a lot of ghosts in your time, but so few are sentient enough – or powerful enough – for compulsion.

“Go on,” the dad says, gesturing at you. “Tell her.”

“Leroy, she’s embarrassed enough,” the mom says.

“No, she’s not, Sarah.” The dad – Leroy – gestures to you again. “Tell her.”

Katie huffs, clearly resistant. But when her dad huffs back, she caves. “So,” she says, “I have this YouTube channel—”

“I’m off in an hour,” you interrupt. You don’t care that you’re being rude. Your patience ran out as soon as she said YouTube. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” You turn to go.

“A moment!” Sarah shakes out her menu. “How’s the nicoise salad?”

Of course they’re going to order. They’d better tip too if they want you to help them with their ghost problem.

----.

“You said an hour,” mom Sarah says when you leave out the employee entrance. She’s shivering next to her daughter. Leroy is off smoking behind his motorcycle, parked next to the Tesla Katie is leaning on, but he stubs out his cigarette on the asphalt when you walk up. “It’s been two.”

“I had side work,” you say instead of it would have been one if not for you. You rub your bare arms when the familiar ghost chill washes over you. You want nothing more than to go home and wash the scent of garlic and brownie batter out of your hair. “Was there something wrong with my service?”

“No?”

You try to make your voice light. “I see.”

Sarah frowns at your tone anyway. “Why?”

“You tipped five dollars.”

Katie jolts like a scalded cat. “Mom!”

Leroy scrubs a hand over his face. “Sarah…”

“What?” Sarah throws up her hands. The parking lot lights catch on her Swarovski charm bracelet. “I tipped!”

“Like ten percent,” Katie says. She pulls her bucket hat over her eyes for a beat and then peeks at you from under it. “I’m so sorry. It’s not you, she’s always like this.”

“It was actually a six percent tip,” you say. You’re getting a clearer picture of this little family now. It’s becoming more and more understandable why Katie might have started summoning ghosts. “If you want to be precise.”

Leroy reaches for his back pocket. “Let me.”

Sarah swats at his hand. “We’re about to pay her a lot more than that!”

“For a completely separate job,” Leroy says. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and hands it to you with a grimace. “Sorry, Grady, I should’ve checked.”

“You should’ve paid if you cared so much,” Sarah retorts. She folds her arms over her chest. She taps her cheek and widens her eyes. “Oh wait… you never pay.”

“Sure,” Leroy says. This time it’s his turn to throw his hands in the air. “Sure, Sarah. I don’t pay for anything to do with our daughter’s private school or her dance classes or her health insurance—”

“If the court hadn’t mandated—”

“You make twice as much as me—"

“Guys!” Katie says loudly. Her mouth is a thin line of upset when she says, “Argue about what an expensive burden I am later when we don’t have an audience, okay?”

Her parents speak at the same time.

“You’re twisting my words,” Sarah says. “I never said—"

“Sweetie, you’re not a burden—”

“Can you just get this ghost out of me?” Katie asks you. She goes for nonchalance and falls short. “My parents haven’t been in the same room for the last five years for a reason.” She fakes whispering. “They don’t play nicely with others.”

Sarah bristles. “Katie.”

“God, I know how that is,” you say. The whole interaction is giving you the worst case of sympathy for Katie. Before her parents can say anything else, you change the subject. “How long have you been haunted?”

“Six months,” Katie says. She fiddles with her bucket hat so that you can see her eyes for the first time. They’re brown, like her dad’s, and have heavy bruises underneath. She shrugs. “They only noticed a month ago though.”

“I noticed your behavior had changed,” Sarah defends. Like her daughter, she fidgets. She plays with her bracelet and clears her throat. “I thought it was a teenage thing.”

“What signs did you notice first?” you ask the parents. They glance at each other and then away.

“Let’s just say we noticed different things,” Leroy says dryly. He pulls out his phone.

“Moodiness,” Sarah says. She ticks them off on her fingers. “Laziness. Disrespect. Over-sleeping.”

“Those are just teenager things,” Katie says with an astounding level of self awareness. She shrugs. “I’m a senior now. They’re lucky it didn’t start sooner.”

“I,” Leroy says, “noticed this.” He turns his phone towards you.

“Ah,” Sarah says, “Yes. That.”

You examine the picture. It’s of Katie on a small dirt bike. She’s wearing a helmet in the picture, but you recognize the fashion sense in the floral boots she’s wearing. The scene behind her is of the hills, low scrub brush recognizable to someone who’s lived in LA for the past five years. On the bike behind her is a smudge. It could be a cloud of dirt blown into frame or maybe a camera glitch. It could be if it weren’t for the leering face emerging from the cloud right behind her head.

“I just want to say I did not agree to getting her a motorcycle,” Sarah says.

“Mom, not the point,” Katie says.

“Look how close that creep is to my daughter,” Leroy says. He jabs a finger at Katie’s waist in the photo where you can see a ghostly hand. “I want him gone.”

“Dad, he didn’t mean anything by it!” Katie turns to you earnestly. “Terry never rode a bike before and I thought, like, what if he moved on after he got a chance to? It was a philanthropic effort!”

“Plant a tree if you want to be a philanthropist,” Leroy growls. “I want this guy away from my daughter.”

“He doesn’t mean any harm really,” Katie says. “He would move on if he could! He says he’s stuck to me because of how I summoned him. He’s like, really sorry. He even spelled out Sorry in the bathroom mirror once.”

“What,” Sarah says in a dangerous voice, “was Terry doing in the bathroom with you, Katie?”

Katie splutters. “Mom, don’t be gross!”

The family descends into bickering. You have heard about ghosts being stuck to a person before, but usually that’s when the person has some sort of psychic powers. Katie’s wearing crystal in her ears, but they aren’t charged. She might develop some talent later in life, but right now she’s a normal girl.

The parking lost is nearly empty now. You recognize a few employee cars, but very few customers. The kitchen will be cleaning for another half hour before they’re ready to go home.  The reality is that, if Terry is stuck, you might not be the best way to handle the situation. If he’s not…

Well.

It’s time to talk to Terry.

Opening your ghost sense is hard to describe. Some psychics liken it to a third eye, right in the middle of their forehead. You’ve always thought that sounded really cool like maybe the world gets cast in a blue hue when they do it and the dead appear like they do in movies. You’ve met other psychics who say it’s like a sixth sense. They know where the ghost is and it’s like they download all that information until their minds can just sort of conjure their image.

For you, it’s like letting your body remember it has a second mouth. Cats have an extra sensory organ on the roof of their mouth that lets them detect scents better. Your second mouth is a bit like that. You can still smell brownies and garlic and the city air of LA, but you can also smell/taste something else.

Something like…pepper?

Your eyes water and you sneeze so viciously that your eyes close. When you open them again, four people are staring at you in surprise.

“Gesundheit,” Leroy says.

“You sneeze like Dad does,” Katie says.

“Did no one ever teach you to cover your mouth?” Sarah asks in disgust.

“I wish you would’ve sneezed on her,” Terry says, nodding to Sarah. “She’s such a bitch.”

“Thank you for the commentary, everyone,” you say. You wipe your nose with the collar of your shirt as you consider Terry. It’s dirty anyway. “Terry. Interesting name for a ghost.”

Terry hasn’t noticed that you can see him yet. He’s floating behind Katie, one arm casually flung over her shoulder. It’s hard to place when he died based on his appearance alone. His hair is chin length, emphasizing the width of his jaw. Squire cuts have been popular for several decades and the bowling shirt he’s wearing could either be a modern fashion statement or a dated uniform. He looks to be in his mid-twenties, sun-kissed and with the air of someone who tells a lot of jokes at the expense of others. His arm around Katie strikes you as possessive, the glare he gives her parents venomous.

“I didn’t name him,” Katie says. “He said it’s short of Torrance.”

You blink. “Wouldn’t he be Torri then?”

“That’s a girl’s name,” Katie and Terry say at the same time. Their cadence is so close that it actually sounds like Terry’s baritone comes out of Katie’s mouth. For a moment, his arm flickers, clipping into her shoulder like a bad animation. When it does, Terry’s form grows brighter, more solid. Then Katie shivers and he’s forced out of her.

You and Terry click your tongues at the same time.

You remember how Katie’s hands seemed to blur at the dinner table. Terry’s not just haunting Katie. He’s trying to possess her. You wonder if that’s why Katie looked up an exorcist rather than a simple spiritual cleansing. Did she know how much danger she was in?

“Okay,” you say. You tear your attention away from Katie and Terry for a moment. Business first. “Sarah. Leroy. Who was it that found my site?”

“I did,” Sarah says. She raises her chin when you can’t hide your surprise. “When Katie was looking up exorcists—”

“She didn’t mean it,” Terry says. He pats Katie’s hat. “Right?”

“—I looked up alternative solutions,” Sarah says, not having heard Terry. Her confidence falters for a moment and she rubs her arm. “I have had some… negative experiences with exorcisms. I don’t want my daughter to go through that.”

Katie’s head whips towards her mother. “What? I didn’t know that.”

“It was a long time ago,” Leroy says. For the first time, he reaches out and hugs Sarah with one arm. You don’t know what surprises you more; Leroy hugging Sarah or Sarah leaning into his side. “When Sarah told me, we decided to put our differences aside. I vetted you through some of my contacts and they all agreed you’d be a safe bet.”

“I am,” you say. You’re not bragging either. You’re probably the safest bet in half the western states besides your older sister. “There are some…peculiarities in my method.”

“Charlatan,” Terry whispers in Katie’s ear. He’s grinning now. “Only charlatans are that confident. Look! She can’t even see me!”

Katie looks doubtful.

Usually, you’d try to talk to Terry at this point. Sometimes spirits can be negotiated with. They can be encouraged to move on or to take on a less aggressive form of haunting. Those that are truly stuck can be helped with the right sort of ritual work. But the way Terry’s affecting Katie’s mood and that fucking arm around her shoulders…

You don’t really want to talk to Terry.

“We can ask Terry to move on,” you tell the family.

“Nooooooo,” Terry says and flips you off. “Pass!”

“Sometimes spirits don’t realize how deeply they’re affecting their hosts,” you say.

“You don’t even know how deep I’m about to be,” Terry jeers at you.

“Many ghosts are confused when they’re called to interact with the living,” you say. “It can blur their understanding of death and, as a result, they cling to life. If they stick around long enough, their presence will affect the living like what’s happening to Katie. It’s not always malicious. It can be a symptom of that confusion.”

“Katie, tell her to piss off,” Terry hisses in the teen’s ear. “I’m not confused, I’m bored.” His voice deepens. “Tell her we don’t need her help. Tell her we’re going home.”

Katie opens her mouth robotically. “That’s…” Her brow creases as she tries to figure out what she was going to say. “It seems like we don’t need help then. Terry will move on when he’s ready, like I thought.”

“We aren’t paying you for a ghost therapy session,” Sarah snaps. It’s only because you’re really focusing that you can see the unease under her anger. She’s noticed something wrong with Katie. “Katie, Terry is going away today.”

“Fuck you,” Terry says.

“Fuck you,” Katie says.

Leroy’s head rears back. “Katie, you don’t use that language with your mother!”

“Fuck you too,” Katie and Terry say. The parking lot lights flicker.

“No, fuck you, Terry,” you say, stepping between Katie and her parents. Leroy starts like he’s going to pull you out of the way, but he doesn’t.

“Terry?” Leroy asks. He looks scared. “Terry said that? Is Terry possessing my daughter?”

“Not yet.” You eye Terry’s arm and the way his fingers are sinking into Katie’s arm.

“Oh fuck,” Terry says. He doesn’t look scared. Not yet. Instead, he grins. “You can see me.”

“Not every ghost is malicious,” you tell the parents without taking your eyes off Terry. “But some are.”

“I’m not malicious.” Terry runs a hand through his hair, still grinning. The parking lot lights flicker overhead again. “I care about Katie a lot.”

“Terry’s never hurt me,” Katie says.

You ignore her. She’s not even shaking Terry off now. Her gaze is dull on your face when you say, “I don’t mean to sound like I’m some sort of ghost therapist. However, it’s important to differentiate between malicious and non-malicious hauntings in my practice. My methods are unconventional and, if used indiscriminately, I can get in a lot of trouble.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Leroy says. He steps into your periphery. His gaze flicks from you to the spot you’re staring at over Katie’s shoulder. “We want Terry gone.”

“Not a soul,” Sarah promises. She comes up on your other side. “Please help our daughter.”

“Terry,” you say. Your second mouth is yawning wide somewhere in the back of your brain. The taste of pepper isn’t as overwhelming now. “Last chance. Renounce your claim on Katie’s soul and slither back into whatever hole you came out of.”

“We’re soulmates,” Terry says. He bares his teeth at you. “Go on, Charlatan. Call on your God to banish me. I’ve been around for decades and no exorcist has ever been able to put a scratch on me. And when they manage to push me out?” He laughs and the temperature drops another ten degrees. An unholy light flickers in his eyes. “I just come right back.”

“Then I guess I won’t feel guilty,” you say.

“Guilty?” Katie asks.

You walk forward two steps and grab Terry’s face. Terry’s skin is soft and jelly-like. His facial bones undulate like rubber under your grip. “Hi, Terry.”

Now Terry’s afraid. “What the fuck, you can touch—?”

“Bye, Terry.” You drag him towards you. His fingers pop out of Katie’s arm with a wet sucking sound, and he claws at your wrist.

“Wait! Waitwaitwaitwait--”

You eat Terry.

People come from all around to eat at the Brownie Industry. They love the density of the desserts and the heaps of garlic spread over home-baked (shipped frozen) rolls. It’s a treat to know you’re always going to enjoy the meal even if you’re far from home or eating at the same location a hundred times. It’s consistency, sugar and butter. An easy addiction to have.

Eating ghosts is like that for you. They fizz in your second mouth like champagne and melt like fudge. It’s hard to describe and the ephemeral quality of it sends shivers down your spine. Somewhere Terry is screaming in anguish, maybe crying. You think that the family you’re helping is screaming something too, but the sensation of eating is so consuming you can’t hear the words.

Terry is younger than other ghosts you’ve eaten. He doesn’t have the depth of flavor you’d once been addicted to back in Illinois. The best ghost you’ve ever eaten had been like a six-course meal with all the centuries she’d been carrying. In comparison, Terry is like a bag of pepper chips. Interesting, but gone in a moment. Still, he hits the spot.

When you’re done, you burp a purple cloud of ectoplasm into the still night air.

Leroy is the first to speak. His eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around them. “Pay her, Sarah,” he says breathlessly. His hands shake as he reaches for Katie, steadying her on her feet. “Now.”

You smack your lips and graciously accept the wad of cash Sarah hands you. You raise your eyebrows. “This is more than three times my rate.”

“Consider it a tip,” Sarah says. She’s more composed than Leroy, but still pale. She studies you. “That was…revolting.”

“You didn’t have to watch,” you say. You put your money away and then perk up at a sudden thought. “Hey, if you can, can you leave me a review on my site?”

“I thought you didn’t want us to tell anyone?”

You wave your hand. “Secrets are bad for business. Besides, Terry deserved it. I’m sure they’ll understand if you write that in your review.”

“They…?”

You smile and don’t answer.

The family don’t ask many more questions after that. The parents promise to leave a review and Katie just stares at you as if concussed. You assure the parents that she’ll be back to normal as soon as the soul-shock wears off. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Sarah asks.

“Message me,” you say.

“You don’t check your messages,” Leroy says.

“Oh,” you say, patting your stomach, “I’ll be checking them a lot more often now.”

You’re hungry again.

---

(Patreon)

[andyridgeley]

i now have 8 vinyls comin in the mail

[bi-writes]

I feel like now that MOB and Simon are comfy together and truly utterly unbelievably in love, they'd maybe wanna have a wedding. Not in the traditional, big church tons-of-guests way, but like in the dress up, say vows, and show off your love to your loved ones (no matter how few) way. Not cause they need it or cause they feel pressured, but just cause it's be sweet. A beautiful memory for them (and an excuse for MOB to see Simon in a suit and for Simon to see her in a wedding dress yknow?)

mail-order bride

you're nervous.

more nervous than you felt on the way to this house for the first time. sitting in the back of that taxi, one suitcase in the trunk and the cat in the seat beside you, even then, even knowing you were heading to meet a stranger, you did not feel this type of nervousness.

it's deep in your belly. a taut force that tangles your insides, and you try to hide the shake in your hands as you close the small book that holds your vows and pick up the small bouquet on the dresser.

they're daisies, from the garden. simon picked them for you this morning, had woken you up by tucking one of the stems behind your ear. you made sure to add a few to your hair before dressing.

the silk sits perfectly. that shop on the main street had kept your measurements, and when you asked if they could make you something a little more special, you could not have envisioned anything more beautiful.

structured bodice to hold you in, draped in silk that fell over every curve and every line like falling water, in an elegant white that made the sentiment of what today would be all too real.

he's leaning against the doorway to the backyard when you open the bedroom door. you're barefoot, quiet, so it takes him a minute before he notices you.

both of you pause at a reasonable distance when you finally get a good look at each other.

simon looks so handsome. he's all made-up in his dress uniform, a faded green jacket buttoned over slacks with a khaki shirt underneath, but it is tailored to perfect, and the belt around his waist makes him look all the more formal. what really has you swooning is the lovely medals on his chest--lined up in beautiful rows, glinting in the sunlight as he tips the beret he's wearing to eye you carefully.

"christ," simon murmurs, taking both his hands out of his pockets. he clears his throat, shifting in his boots, and he finally holds a hand out for you, beckoning you forward. "wot a bloody sight y'are, luv."

you pad forward, smiling, and when your hand fits in his, you both squeeze, staring at one another with grins that won't fade. he leans forward to pressing his face to yours before making his way outside with you.

there's a seat under the tree, with a small table beside it. there's flowers everywhere, petals across the grass, and you follow simon under the shade as he takes a seat, guiding you into his lap so you both can sit there for a moment.

it's quiet. there's a light breeze making the leaves fall, but the sun is peeking through the clouds, and you can see the cats in the window, staring at you both as they chew between nips of cat grass. you set down your bouquet on the table beside you, settling in simon's lap as you hold the notebook to your chest.

"can...can i go first?" you ask, and simon reaches up to brush a few strands of your hair out of your face. he nods, adjusting you in his lap, and you try not to focus too hard on how much your hands shake as you flip open the little book you're holding.

the first few pages are your first few drafts, scribbled out with messy pen strokes. you settle where your real words begin, somewhere in the middle, jumbled between messy handwriting since you spent so long perfecting it all.

"simon," you start gently, and you relax a little when you feel his hand settle on your lower back, soothing you gently as he listens. "i had no idea what i was getting myself into all that time ago. my entire life, it's felt like...i've felt like i've just been running. running from the things i've always been afraid of. from people that i didn't trust. from the things that have happened and the things i thought might happen. in fact...i felt like if i didn't keep running, something terrible would catch up to me."

one of your hand falls, and simon covers it with his own. the shaking settles, and you continue.

"and then i came here," you whisper. "i-i..." you swallow. "i-i came here, and i ran right into you." you notice a few wet spots on the pages, and you steady your breaths, trying not to focus too much on the wetness you feel along your cheeks. "a-and you caught me."

you look over at him, and he's smiling, dark eyes trained on your clasped hands in your lap. he squeezes, bringing your hand up to his mouth, and you have the courage to keep going when you feel him kiss your knuckles.

"i don't know how we found each other. i-i don't know who knew that this house was mine. i don't know who understood that there was an empty place inside that belonged to me, but i'm here now. a-and i'm not...i'm not going anywhere."

you bend, leaning forward, and you press your forehead to his temple.

"no one has ever loved me the way you do, simon riley. and i-i promise i will try until forever t-to do the same for you."

it hurts. there's a place in simon's chest that physically aches, like a tender wound, squeezing against his ribs as he hugs you close to his body. the time with you is precious. he fears the moment he knows that there is not much left, but that time isn't now, and he cherishes that fact.

he has always carried a sense for those kind of things. he can tell when there is little left, like knowing there is nothing more to drink in canister without shaking it. it's a feeling, one he knows well, but he doesn't feel that with you, not yet, and he will consume every breath he can that he shares with you until then (because when he feels the time waning, he will give you every breath of his that remains if it means you get just one more second of this life).

simon reaches into his jacket, pulling out a small paper. he unfolds it gently, still holding you close, and you cling to the lapels of his jacket as he talks to you in that low, soothing voice of his.

"'m not sure where t'start," simon chuckles. "was hard for me to think of wot t'say t'ya." he takes a small breath before kissing your forehead. "'s hard ta think about wot it was like before i had ya 'ere. only eatin' because i had to. only leavin' the house because the job demanded it of me. like the whole world was a terrible fuckin' grey. so fuckin' quiet, i could hear this nasty ringin' in my ears."

simon crumples the paper a little, and you wrap a hand around the back of his neck to anchor him.

"honest...i thought the job would 'ave me. tha' i'd go out in some reckless sort of way, or maybe i'd just...let it take me with it one day. and when i knew y'were comin', i still thought tha' was how it would be. tha' i'd settle in it alone, on my own, like i always 'ave."

you close your eyes, and you can hear nothing besides his voice.

"thought i'd run outta luck. thought crawlin' out of my fuckin' grave was the last thing that they'd ever give me," he mutters, and you suck in a shaky breath when you hear the paper crumple sharply. "i don't know wot i ever did to deserve someone like you, luv. 'm not good. never 'ave been. the things i've done, wot i've seen, i wasn't meant for good things."

you pull back a little and open your eyes, and simon's own are full of pain. he grips your waist a little firmly, digging his fingers into you there.

"'n ya aren't just good. y'r perfect. like y'were made in my dreams. and still y'r 'ere, and ya haven't left, and..." he swallows. "nothing else matters, swee'eart." his eyes meet yours. big, brown ones, sadness so permeable, striking, an unnerving kind. "family is oll that matters." when your foreheads touch again, you can't stop yourself. his voice is low, gravelly, weighed down by some kind of pain that you'll never understand. simon has pieces of himself that are missing. people from a past life that he tries to keep finding, things that he knows should be here, but will forever disappoint him by no longer being real.

when he puts his hand over your heart, you can't see him anymore, not really. your tears blur your vision.

"y'r all that matters."

when you cut the cake in the kitchen, you feed each other small bites of decadent chocolate, and when you finish, you gift each other the vows you've written, to tuck away somewhere special, to read when the world gets too loud or when the colors of life get washed out by meaningless distractions.

the dance in the kitchen has lasted for minutes or hours, you can't remember. the music is soft, and you're swaying, but time is meaningless when you're looking into simon's eyes.

it is a part of him that will never change. you memorize how they look, because you want to recognize them in every place that you see them. you want to remember them everywhere, now, soon, until time rots the plants above the sink and kills the vegetables in your garden and makes threadbare the kitchen towels on the counter--you want to remember them.

so you can find him in this life, and every other one that comes after.

[peachsukii]

This post made me think about putting a flower in Bakugo’s hair when walking through the park with him.

“Aww, look at all these little guys!” You point to the patch of flowers in the grass, bending at the knees to get a closer look. “So many pretty daisies, and its been awhile since I’ve seen a buttercup. Do you know why they’re called that?”

Bakugo sighs, knowing you’re gonna tell him regardless if he knows or not. “Dunno. Why?”

You grab one from the bunch and stand, moving to hold it under his jaw. “They say if you hold one right about here and it shows up yellow, that means you like butter!”

“That’s fuckin’ stupid,” he laughs, gently swatting your hand away when one of the petals tickles against his neck. “S’gonna be yellow no matter what ‘cause of the pollen, idiot.”

“I know,” you pout before turning away from him, kneeling to gather one of the white daisies nearby. “Something I used to do as a kid. We’d end up with yellow all over our cheeks and necks.”

‘Cute,’ Bakugo thinks to himself, smiling while watching you admire the flowers. He whips his head in the opposite direction before you catch him, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late for lunch with the others.”

Before he can protest, he feels something slide over his right ear, your other hand lying softly on his shoulder as you concentrate on placing the flowers in his hair.

“Now you’re the prettiest flower in the park,” you whisper before placing a quick kiss to his cheek and grabbing his hand from his pocket. Bakugo’s face flushes instantly, unsure how to respond to such a sweet gesture. He rips his hand out of your grasp and stomps over to the flowers, grabbing a few and returning to your side.

“Hold still,” he orders as he tucks your hair behind your ear, sticking the stems in place like bobby-pins. “There. Now you’re the prettiest flower.”

With a roll of your eyes, you pinch one of his cheeks lovingly and a big grin spread over your lips. “There’s plenty of room in the garden, Kats. We can both be pretty.”

The two of you continue to the cafe in the city to meet up with your friends, ignoring all their little jabs at how sickly cute you and Bakugo are with your matching flowers. He tells them to shut the hell up as he fidgets with the petals every so often during lunch, a comforting warmth flowing through him with each touch — a reminder that he’s loved unconditionally.

[queenpiranhadon]

"What! C'mon...no fair!"

"Haha! Eat dust, loser!"

First thing Kento Nanami wants to come home to is your lovely embrace and maybe a kiss or two. And whether or not he would admit it, he wouldn't mind if Yuji was home too - considering Nanami's home seemed to be his own at this point.

Instead, he finds his wife trash-talking his student while donning matching Super Mario hoodies and an array of snacks on the floor...playing Mario Kart?

You and Yuji don't notice the arrival of your husband, instead focused on the game in front of you, Yuji wearing his Donkey Kong hoodie, and you with your one that matched the design of Princess Peach.

Yuji lets out a scandalized gasp. "How did you-"

You suddenly jump ups pumping your fists in the air victoriously as a "1st Place" flashes across your screen. "Hell yeah baby!"

Yuji grumbles as a "2nd Place" flashes across his own screen a few moments later. "You're a cheater."

You roll your eyes, ruffling his hair affectionately. "You're just salty a grown woman in her late twenties beat you at Mario Kart."

"Play nice, love." Nanami clears his throat.

You both whip you heads towards him, surprised, as two big grins stretch across your faces. Running up to him eagerly, Yuji tackles his teacher with a hug. "Hey Nanamin!" he looks back at you pouting. "Your wife is a cheater."

Nanami raised an eyebrow and looks between the two of you. "Though I know my wife would absolutely cheat to win a game-" you huff indignantly and mutter liar under your breath "I know for a fact that she didn't cheat during your video game. She possesses the innate ability to always be victorious at Mario Kart that I wonder if she has a second cursed technique or not."

You know he's teasing with the way he refuses to acknowledge the fact that you're currently in the room with them, but you come up behind him anyways, wrapping your arms around him, chuckling.

"You plan on joining us?"

Nanami looks unamused. "I think I've learned my lesson on playing video games with you."

"Awww why not?" Yuji says, disappointed.

"He's just grumpy because I kicked his ass the last time we played."

Yuji looks at Nanami surprised. "You play video games?"

Nanami groans, undoing his tie. "Never again." he looks at the two of your again, taking in your attire. "Where did you get the hoodies from?"

You shrug. "I ordered them about a week ago. I got one for you, Megumi and Nobara too!"

Nanami chuckles dryly. "You are not getting me to wear a Super Mario hoodie."

You raise an eyebrow. "Try me."

Nanami ends up not only consistently losing and getting last place in the following rounds of Mario Kart, but he ends up doing so in a Bowser hoodie.

A/N: Hsbedh I actually loved writing this - Nanami being a dad to Yuji is so adorable I can't- Megumi prolly gets a King Boo one and Nobara gets Daisy

[heartysworld]

Mother's Day || Oscar Piastri x Reader

A/N: This is a request I got last night and the moment I saw it I knew I just HAD to write it ASAP so here it is. I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as I did! 🧡

W.C.: 2k

MASTERLIST

Oscar sat in his car, adjusting the camera mounted on the dashboard with a genuine smile.

"Good morning everyone, welcome back to the McLaren YouTube channel. It's Oscar here. So, I didn't really plan on filming this today, but according to the schedule, it's my turn to vlog and there's no way out of it. So because today is a really special day you'll be coming with me to run some errands. It's Y/N's first Mother's Day, and I want to make it memorable for her. So, I woke up super early and I'm on my way to get her some flowers and breakfast."

On the way to the places he had in mind to visit, Oscar talked about the other big part of his life. He discussed the last few races and the points he had scored with the invisible audience whom the video was intended for.

He parked the car and walked towards a quaint local flower shop, the bell above the door jingling as he entered. "Alright, so we're at Daisy's Flower Boutique. They have the best flowers in town, and I want to get something really special for Y/N."

Oscar browsed through the vibrant selection of flowers, his eyes lighting up as the woman who worked there showed him a beautiful bouquet of roses and another one of lilies. "These look perfect. I'm actually going to get both." He said. "One bouquet from me and one from our baby girl. I think my wife will love them." He added as he received an odd look from the worker. His reason for buying two bouquets actually made the woman smile, telling him how his wife and daughter are lucky to have such a husband and father.

Next, Oscar headed to a cozy bakery, ordering an assortment of pastries and a couple two lattes, all of your favorite stuff. The camera captured the delicious array of baked goods. "Y/N loves the croissants from this place, so I'm getting a bunch of her favorites. And of course, a latte to go. Funny story, this is where we had our first date six years ago. So we can say we've made it something like "our place". "

With the flowers and breakfast on the passenger seat, Oscar set off back home. "Alright, everything's set. Let's head back home and surprise my wife."

Quietly entering the house, Oscar made his way to the kitchen where Y/N was already awake, cradling their baby girl who let our a loud gurgle at the sight of her dad. "Good morning, loves," he said softly, setting the food and flowers on the counter.

Y/N looked up, a surprised smile spreading across her face. "Oscar! What's all this?"

"Happy first Mother's Day," Oscar beamed, handing her the bouquets. "This one is from me...and this one is from our little princess."

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears as she took the flowers, her smile radiant. "They're beautiful. Thank you so much," she said, leaning in to kiss Oscar and then placing a gentle kiss on their baby girl's head.

Oscar handed her a card with a delicate floral design. "There's more. Open this."

Y/N opened the card, reading the heartfelt note inside:

"To the most amazing woman and mother, Y/N, Happy first Mother's Day! Watching you with our daughter has been the greatest joy of my life. Your love, strength, and kindness inspire me every day. I’m so grateful to share this journey with you. Love always, Oscar and Tilly."

Tears streamed down Y/N's cheeks as she read the note. "Oscar, this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me."

Oscar wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead gently. "You deserve it all and more."

You couldn't believe how sweet Oscar had been. This was your first Mother’s Day, and he had gone above and beyond, waking up super early during a break week, to make it special. As you sat in the kitchen, holding you baby girl, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude.

Later that week, you found out Oscar's video had blown up online. The comments were filled with people adoring him and your family. “Oscar, you’ve set the bar so high for all the partners out there!” one comment read. “Y/N is so lucky to have you, and you can see the love you all share. Happy Mother’s Day, Y/N!” another person wrote.

You decided to film a little response video for your personal instagram, thanking everyone for their kind words. Sitting in the same spot Oscar had been earlier, you turned on the camera and smiled. “Hi everyone, it’s Y/N. I just wanted to say thank you for all the lovely messages. Oscar truly made this Mother’s Day unforgettable, and I’m so grateful for him and our beautiful daughter. Seeing how much you all appreciate his effort makes it even more special. Thank you again, and happy Mother’s Day to all the wonderful moms out there.”

Turning off the camera, you felt a wave of happiness. This day had been perfect, not just because of the flowers or the breakfast, but because of the love you shared as a family. Oscar's thoughtfulness had once again touched your heart, showing you how much he loves you and how lucky you are to have him.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! 🧡

MASTERLIST

[versias]

Demon Twins AU

- Maddie was trained by the League of Assassins and was sent back to America to pursue her theory that Lazarus water was ectoplasmic residue. She joined the only paranormal studies course in the country and met likeminded scientists Jack Fenton and Vlad Masters.

- Maddie fell in love with Jack and they pursued their research together, attempting to break into the “ghost zone”, the hypothetical in-between where the energy of death collected in order to collect pure ectoplasm samples. (And possibly capture a ghost for study.)

- They Sort-Of succeeded (sorry Vlad but science marches on) and Maddie proved ectoplasm and Lazarus water were related. LoA allowed her to stay and continue her research, providing her with funding so long as she sent reports. Occasionally she had to do a mission since she was in the area, but it was usually simple and low stakes.

- Then, when Jazz is 2 years old, Maddie is called back to the League to witness the birth of the Demon’s Heirs. The babies were grown in LW using her data so she basically has to become a physician for the babies.

- The younger twin’s heart stopped when he was pulled out of the water. She rushed to save him, using pure ectoplasm from her research and it worked. Even though Danyal is deemed the inferior twin, he’s kept alive and trained to act as a benchmark/motivation for the true heir Damian.

- Maddie falls in love with the little boy whose health she’s in charge of. Talia notes that this researcher cares for her child as if it was her own.

- When Ra’s decides to have Danny and Damian duel as a sort of initiation and trial to prove his worth as the heir (something that leaves psychological scars on both Danny and Damian, thanks Ra’s.), Damian kills Danny and Maddie is devastated over the body.

- Talia grabs her and the body and sneaks them into the Lazarus pits to bring her child back. Then she hands Danny to Maddie and tells her to raise him as her own, protect him as her own, and she will erase Maddie’s debt to the league.

- Maddie runs with her new son back to America and tells her family that the job she had is completed and “hey Jack sorry I forgot to mention our son I was so caught up in my work! Yeah, whenever I visited five years ago I got pregnant and forgot to mention it! Whoopsie daisy!”

- Jack believes this because he’s forgetful sometimes and also why would his lovely, beautiful, brilliant wife lie to him. He welcomes five year old Danny into his life as his son despite him only superficially looking like him and for some reason having much darker skin. Who knows, genetics isn’t his area of expertise!

- Besides even if Maddie lied to him she probably had a good reason! He’s always wanted a son anyway!!

- Jazz is far more suspicious of this but she’s all of seven and also this poor kid looks terrified and traumatized so. She’ll let it go. And also help him settle in, as is right for a Big Sister.

- Danny has psychological and physical scars but grows up loved and cared for. He misses his brother, but he wasn’t worthy to stand beside him—grandfather said so and it must be so. He didn’t want to be a weight on his brother’s neck, dragging him down

- He makes friends with Tucker and then Sam who don’t judge him for strange mannerisms and who like him for who he is.

- Maybe it’s not the life he would have chosen for himself, but it is a good life. He decides he can be happy here in Amity Park, secure in the knowledge that his brother was off conquering and thriving.

- Then Maddie and Jack finish the Portal, which would theoretically allow travel into the Ghost Zone to continue their work. The pinhole fractures they can now reliably create to power weapons and technology prove the theory and this is the next step!

- Danny Dies In The Portal and a hole is ripped open between worlds. DP series takes place as normal!

- Mixed Reveal since Maddie and Jack are researchers first and foremost. They don’t want to hurt their children but they want to study! They capture a different ghost so they can learn more about how the anatomy works, because they need to take care of their half-ghost son.

- Danny is appalled and horrified to find them dissecting some struggling specter. They are so fucking earnest about it, trying to tell him that they want to make sure they understand how he’s put together so if he gets hurt they can help and it’s not like they can Kill ghosts so it’s only a temporary necessity in pursuit of knowledge!!

- Danny releases the ghost and later, steals their research and destroys the portal. He flees. He knows they won’t hurt him but he thought they wouldn’t Do That either and they did so he’s terrified.

- Danny’s friends help him escape and set up a fake id and passport. His plan is to get to Gotham and find the Bat who will hopefully be able to Adult this situation. He’s not expecting to be welcomed as his son; by all accounts the Batman has no idea Talia even made children with his DNA so he isn’t even going to mention being his son.

- Meanwhile Damian has been Robin for four years and slowly adjusting to his new normal. He doesn’t think about his dead brother; he isn’t allowed to, and though he’s left the league, the league has not left him entirely.

- He is patrolling with his father when an unknown teenager flags them down. Batman is suspicious of course but the kid seems to be earnestly calling for help. He has Robin hang back out of caution and approaches the unknown himself.

- Holy Fuck He Looks Like Damian

- He doesn’t act like a clone or anything. He has an impressively obvious midwestern accent and uses slang like a typical teen. He tells him, a little hysterically, about his parents being scientists and the fucking portal to hell they opened in their basement, about finding them experimenting on an inter-dimensional being that may or may not be an actual human spirit, and briefly details taking his sisters car across four states in a manic road trip to find the Batman.

- Batman is like, why me? There are closer heroes. Why not call the justice league hotline?

- “Hoo boy Mr. Batman see the thing is Amity Park is Dangerous and full of ghosts so I didn’t want metas showing up where they’d get overshadowed and I’d have to? Like? Fight a possessed Superman or something.”

- Why would you be the one fighting??

- Danny is impressively bad at keeping his mouth shut about secrets but to be fair, he’s meeting his father for the first time and the Batman is super cool and intimidating and also he’s remembering his mom and his brother and that’s reminding him of his new family and how everything has probably irreparably fallen apart and oh no

- Oh no he’s crying in front of Batman. Oh fuck, he’s sobbing in front of his father and this is his first impression. Oh ancients he’s never gonna want anything to do with Danny after this mess and it’s not like he was going to say anything but apparently there was this small hope at the bottom of his heart that he’d be welcomed and loved. That somehow his Father would just know this was his son and hug him and make everything better.

- Batman is awkwardly trying to decide if he wants to risk hugging a dangerous unknown, unstable possible-meta-adjacent teenager while he’s having a breakdown on a rooftop when Robin lands next to him and says something that freezes the blood in Bruce’s veins:

- “Brother?”

[enwoso]

WELCOME TO THE WORLD — alessia russo

-> three moments during pregnancy, and one which means the most.

navigation

one

you and alessia had been best friends since the two of you met all the way back on the first day of primary school when you were both were just four years old. alessia was older by two months and was something she loved to use to her advantage.

"y/n i'm older so i know what's best!"

"less! you use that same excuse every time!"

the two of you being polar opposites in school, alessia being the more confident one, who loved football with her entire heart while you were definitely the more introverted one who swore you were allergic to any form of athletic activity. you instead loved having a book in your hands, escaping to another world within the story from the book.

but that's what made you too the bestest of friends and that was something neither of you would change, ever.

you had gone through school together, knowing every aspect of alessia's life and in turn she knew every aspect of your life. and the older you got the more your family's began to become more and more closer.

like when you two were little, you would sit and pick the daisies from the grass on the field making a daisy chain to give to alessia while she would run around the field with a ball at her feet a big toothy grin on her face as she did so.

as alessia got older she made sure you were at every one of her football matches and you proudly did, alessia always making sure to make the point that she played a lot better when you were standing there watching her, even if you didn't have clue what was happening.

you had to there, you were her lucky charm.

so to your families it wasn't the least bit surprising when you both began to start dating when you were 17, however you held off telling them until just a few months before alessia moved to go to university in america.

there reactions being very far from what you both imagined it being a simple — “we knew all along" with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders leaving you and alessia more confused then what your parents were.

now the both of you were 24, having been together now for seven years. alessia had came back to england having made her break through into the lionesses senior squad and was now playing for arsenal after just having the summer of her life, even if england were unable to win the world cup, you know that just making a final was a huge achievement alone.

you on the other hand had graduated from university having gotten your dream job and you couldn't be anymore prouder of your girlfriend — life with her by your side was amazing and was just about to get a whole lot better.

you were finally pregnant.

after a few failed rounds of ivf, you and less decided this would be your last try before you stopped trying for a while in order to give your body a rest however you were now stood in your bathroom shaky hands holding a positive test a huge grin taking over your face.

you had been feeling horrible for the past few days, thinking you had just gotten a tummy ache but now it all made sense there was going to be a little human growing inside of you.

alessia being at the arsenal training ground as it was the beginning of the wsl season in just a few days time, this gave you a few hours to set up a little something in a way to surprise her.

alessia was due to be home in the next ten minutes so buzzing with excitement you found a sticky note and wrote 'hello mama!' on the note and placed it next to the pregnancy test

stepping back and looking down at your stomach and admiring it, it beginning to settle in that you were about to have a baby with the girl of your dreams. thoughts of alessia with a baby over run your mind but you were soon took out of that track of through by the sound of the front door shutting.

"baby i'm home!" she called out hearing her drop her keys on the side table and her bag hitting the floor as you came over to the door a giggle slipping from you as you watched her tussle with her trainers to try and get them off.

"hi love" you smiled as she engulfed you in a hug, "how was training?" you asked as the blonde moved her head into your neck, inhaling your perfume. "good but i missed you" she mumbled into your neck as you kissed her forehead.

you hummed, "i've missed you too but i've actually got something to show you" alessia's head rising from your neck, confusion knitting over her face. "show me?" she repeated hesitantly.

you nodded, "close your eyes" alessia looking at you apprehensively, "should i be scared?" the blonde asked, a nervous smile on her face. "no! no i actually think you'll really like it — just close your eyes and trust me!" you said as the blonde finally shut her eyes, you grabbing her hands and leading her to the kitchen.

"okay.. open them!" you say standing to the side as the room is filled with silence, you waiting for alessia who is looking at the little display as you waited for her to piece everything together.

"no way- really!" alessia gasped turning to you a wide smile not so dissimilar to the one you had on your face a few hours ago. you nodded as a squeal came from the blonde as she wrapped her arms around you, twirling you around attacking you with kisses.

placing you back on the ground, her hands staying on your waist as they travelled to your stomach. making sure she's gentle both hands rest on your stomach where your little human will live for the next nine months.

"this is the best thing that has ever happened to me!" alessia mumbled before placing her lips on yours, a slow and loving kiss taking place as your hands came to cup on her cheeks as alessia's hands stayed put on your tummy.

"i love you!"

"i love you too lessi."

two

it was a rainy sunday afternoon and alessia had just gotten home from playing at meadow park, a solid win and even bagging a goal, it was all a good feeling but nothing beat being tucked up next to you as you watched tv.

you lying with alessia on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder as your legs draped over the blondes, tangling themselves within hers as she played with the rings on your fingers.

“where you going?” the blonde asked a pout on her face as you made a sudden movement to get up, looking back at the blonde with a smile, “just to get a drink?”

before you had a chance to even move any further off the couch, alessia had sprung to her feet. “i’ll get it” the blonde sweetly said, pecking your lips quickly before rushing into the kitchen, not before stopping and yelling asking what it was you actually wanted.

“just a water love!” you yelled back, hearing her open the fridge as you smiled to yourself. ever since you found out you were pregnant alessia had been amazing.

helping you whenever your morning sickness struck, giving you your weird cravings whenever you wanted, being patient with you whenever you weren’t in the best of mood because you were tired or just weren’t have the best of days, you could already tell that she was going to be an amazing mother and the little human inside you was only about the size of a peach.

"oh my god!" you gasped as alessia almost ran back in the living room.

"what's wrong?" she frantically asked confusion hitting her as she wondered why there was a big cheesy grin on your face.

"little one just kicked!" you said watching intensely at you bump to see if it would happen again. "is it not a little early for kicking?" alessia asked as you shook your head. you were just hitting the fourth and a half month mark.

you midwife had told you to keep an eye out for any movement as it would begin to happen but it would all depend on the little one growing inside as some baby's were very active inside the womb whilst other weren't.

"no, she said it would be around about now" you explained as alessia nodded, you hands going over your bump trying to feel for any movement.

"pass your hands" you told alessia as she placed your water bottle down on the coffee table at the side of the couch before handing you her hands.

you moved you top up a little more to reveal your bump which was huge but was definitely getting bigger by the day. moving your girlfriends hands around you bump hoping for her to feel your little one's movement.

"can you feel there little kicks!" you looked towards alessia, a little “wow” escaping her as she felt the little kicks as she sat in awe.

"powerful little kicks" you whispered still loud enough for the blonde to hear you as she hummed in argreement her hands still holding your bump.

"gonna be a footballer just like there mama" alessia said smugly as you shook your head in amusement. looking at the blonde, leaning forwards to plant a kiss to her cheek, as she moved the kiss landing on her lips.

three

you were back at wembley for the first time since you had found out you were pregnant, the england girls were set to face the netherlands in the uefa nations league match in hopes of securing qualification for the the olympics next year.

you were nearing six months into your pregnancy, your body was changing massively and you had your 21 week scan telling you the gender of your baby a few weeks ago and with each ultrasound you were falling more and more in love with your little one and you couldn't wait to meet them.

watching as alessia would sit in the room with you, eyes in awh of the tiny human growing in your belly. listening intensively as the heartbeat would fill the small room in the hospital.

however as the weeks were passing, alessia was growing more and more protective of you. not allowing you to pick up anything heavier than an empty bottle or allowing you to stand in your feet for too long meaning she had been taking on the roll of cooking for the past few weeks but secretly you didn't mind that as you loved her cooking.

you were meeting with alessia's mum, dad and brothers at the match, alessia having left earlier this morning to do her usual pre match routine however every half an hour there was another message asking if you were okay - the blonde had been a little wary about you coming to the match but you had assured her that you would be perfectly fine.

walking in the entrance to wembley it was quiet for now fans still not allowed to enter for another thirty minutes. seeing alessia's family in the reception area all with england jerseys on, russo and the number 23 plastered on the back. yourself with the blue england away shirt on with your girlfriends name proudly on your back.

"hi honey, how are you, and the little one?" carol asked, engulfing you in a hug, she had been amazing to you since you had found out along with your own mum - the both of them giving you plenty of advice and tips on how to deal with pregnancy symptoms.

"i'm feeling good today, happy to be out the house!" you beamed it being to longest you had been out without the urgency of needing to go home.

"and little one is very happy and healthy in there" you smiled, "this is from the scan a few weeks ago- look!" you said getting the latest scan photos up on your phone.

"going to be such a beautiful baby" carol pouted, nudging her husband and alessia's two brothers to come and look at the scan photos.

"can't wait for me to pass on all my football secrets!" gio said as you shook your head at the younger russo's childishness. "i think less will beat you to that" you chuckled as giorgio shook his head rolling his eyes at your comment.

"and who do you think she learned them off, hmm?" gio said with a smug grin as it was your turn to roll your eyes, "your dad?" you teased as he scoffed beginning to walk away in a pretend huff.

"giorgio!"

you had all made your way to the family box, gio coming out of his little huff but not before alessia had made it her mission to find you before she began her warm ups.

"are you sure your okay? you haven't got any p-" alessia began before you cut her off. "lessi, i promise you i'm fine plus your mum and dad are here so i'm not alone okay" you said placing your hands on her shoulders squeezing them a few times as the blonde nodded a few times letting out a big sigh her body relaxing a little.

"now you go out there and play the game that you love!" you smiled as she sighed loosening herself up before placing a sweet kiss on your lips.

"i love you" she whispered as you lips lingered and you hummed repeating the three word back to the blonde before pushing her in the direction of the rest of her teammates.

"come on less, she's not made of glass, she's isn't gonna break in the next ninety minutes!" hearing a thick manchester accent of non other than ella. turning your head to wave at the girl before turning to your girlfriend who had a light scowl on her face in the direction of her bestfriend.

"go on!" you nodded your head in the direction of her other teammates, as the blonde began to walk away not before kissing your goodbye on the cheek. watching as she walked off towards her friends not missing the fact she tripped on the carpeted floor, shaking your head in amusement.

"typical"

it had been a tight game between the dutch, the current score being 2-2, lauren just equalising for england. it was all to play for and england desperately needed the three points in order to put them in a good place for qualification.

alessia had been substituted in the 68' minute having been brought offf from fran kirby.

england managed to pull the win with ella scoring in stoppage time meaning england secured the three points putting them in with a chance of qualifying for the next round of the nations league.

the girls walking around, stopping and signing shirts, books, you name it while also taking photos with the fans. walking around wembley waving and thanking the fans who took the time to come and watch them play.

alessia finally gets to where the box is, looking up trying to find you and soon enough she does giving you a wave as you blow her a kiss back. as she caught it holding it close to her chest.

you were now waiting in reception for your blonde lover to emerge from the changing room, a few of the england girls coming out, waiting in the reception area to board the bus.

mary, beth and lucy being the first of girls to come out all showered, wet hair in low buns and wash bags hid under their arms with big grins all over there faces, there being a hint of surprise in their faces when they find a sight of you.

"hey y/n! how's you and the little one?" beth asked as you sat scrolling through your phone. a smile appearing on your face, sliding you phone into your pocket.

"yeah i'm good, tired and little one kicking my ribs like no tomorrow!" you sighed leaning back in the chair that you were sat on, as the three girls joined you.

"less been teaching them football tricks already?" lucy joked as you all began to laugh before getting into the conversation of how long the blonde was going to take to get ready - knowing she loved her skin and hair routines too much as you found yourself spending a lot of your time waiting for her to get ready on a mornings.

"do you know the gender yet?" mary asks as the topic changed again, "i think it'll be a girl!" the manchester girl appeared beside you as you rolled your eyes nudging her slightly as she sat down next to you.

"and then you can call it ella!" she cheekily smiled as you shook your head along with a few weird looks from the other girls.

“you can take that up with less, yeah!” you say softly, patting ella on the back as you give her a look that tells the midfielder that the answer is a definite no.

"what! just saying ella is a great name" she was the one to now roll her eyes as you chuckled shaking your head, "we did find out the gender-" you began smiling as the debate began of what you and alessia were having.

"so what's the gender then?" lucy asked the debate stopping as they had ran out of points to back up why one thought it was a girl and why one thought it was a boy.

"you'll find out in good time!" you smiled as the four began to all talk at once crowding you but luckily your saviour came to your rescue who was in the form of a tall blonde wearing a tracksuit and a massive wash bag hanging tiredly under her arm.

her blonde hair which was still wet, racked back into a low bun at the back of her head. her tired movements getting closer to you, "woah, don't crowd the pregnant lady!" she yelled walking closer to you, standing behind you as she shooed the girls away. resting her hands on your shoulders as you looked up at her with a smile, as she leaned down to place a quick kiss on your lips.

"well we wouldn't have to if she would just tell us if your having a girl or boy!" beth complained as the other three joined in with their complaints.

"we might as well tell them all together" alessia said as she began to gather the rest of the girls around in a huddle, you and less being in the center,

"what's this about russo?" georgia asked as a few others asked the same.

"well we had planned to tell you all in a different way but some are clearly too impatient. but we did find out the gender of our baby the other day and we are having a little... girl!" alessia explained leaving a few pauses just for dramatic effect as the rest of the girls cheered at the gender.

"told you mary! you owe me tenner now!"

four

you were now officially nine months pregnant and if you were being honest you were over it, you wanted nothing more than for the little one to be born for many reasons, one being so you could finally meet your little baby and two so you could get back to doing things without feeling tired after two minutes or needing to go and pee every ten minutes.

alessia with a lot of convincing had gone to training after ensuring that you were going to be okay for a few hours by your self expect you were not going to be by yourself as she had sent her mum to keep you company for the duration she was away.

not that you minded as it meant it kept your mind of the contractions you were having every few hours that had been progressively closer together since yesterday.

you knew it was going to be any time now, your hospital bag sat at the bottom of the stairs which alessia had made sure to pack and then unpack it to then repack it to make sure you had everything you and the new baby would need.

you were currently stood at the kitchen counter folding some clothes of your own while carol insisted on making you lunch, "lessi said that the.. oh" you stopped feeling another contraction wave over you this being a much more intense one that the previous ones you had been having in the past few hours.

"honey, are you okay? do you want me to call alessia?" carol asked as you hummed, leaning over on the kitchen counter trying to steady your breathing.

"okay, just keep breathing, in through your nose and breathe out through your mouth” carol soothed as she picked up her phone from the kitchen counter and pressing on the blondes contact who answered before the call even have a chance to get to the third ring.

"mum? what's wrong? is y/n-" alessia blurted out in a panic before the older women even had a chance to say hello.

"alessia! y/n is fine, but her contractions are getting slowly worse and she's going to want you here to comfort her" carol explained as a sigh of relief was heard from the other line.

"tell her i'm leaving now i'll be twenty minutes max!" alessia said in a hurry as it could be heard of her rushing around, many sounds of doors opening and closing.

"alessia, please don't panic. she's okay and if anything changes i'll call you as soon as i can" carol calmly said as the blonde on the other line hummed along rustling still heard.

"okay mum, i won't be long!" alessia quickly said before saying bye and ending the call. carol puts her phone down, you still in the same position controlling your breathing.

"she's on her way. do you have a yoga ball?" carol asked as you gave her a look wondering why on earth she would need one of them right now - pain fogging your brain for a moment.

"it's for you to bounce on, it'll help you stay upright and active" carol explained further as a knowing look came across your face - it slowly coming back to you remembering the midwife telling you about a range of exercises to do on it but admittedly you were a lot more focused on the sound of your baby's heart beat than the midwife's words.

"oh.. um i think there's one in spare room upstairs, less put it in there somewhere" you paused every few words your voice shaky as with each contraction you tried to steady your breathing - in through your nose and breathe out you were repeating to yourself.

carol telling you she would go and get it for you but not before asking you a few times if you would be okay left alone for a few minutes, you nodding and the older omens coming back a few minutes later with a bright green yoga ball.

helping you into the living room, as you lent forwards thinking it would help with the pain but really it did nothing. carol placed the bright green ball in the middle of the room and helping you find a rhythm to follow as you bounced up and down on the green ball.

it admittedly helping to reduce the intensity of the pain from the contractions as you were able to fall back into conversation with the older women but just as you did your blonde lover burst through the door with a sudden urgency.

"y/n, oh thank goodness your okay!" the blonde said out of breathe as she held her hand on her chest, as she stood in the doorway of the living room. a small laugh leaving your lips as you shared a look with her mum.

"have you ran back from coloney or something? why are you so out of breathe?" you asked a small chuckle coming from her mum but nothing from alessia as she wasn't impressed with your joke.

"sorry for being concerned for my pregnant girlfriend, but i did run to tell jonas where i was going before running to my car!" the blonde rolled her eyes before going into the kitchen to get a drink.

"sometimes you would think it was her with the pregnancy hormones" you joked to carol who laughed slightly along with you.

"i can hear you, you know!" alessia yelled from the kitchen as you laughed a little more with the older women.

an hour had passed and gradually your contractions were getting worse, carol had gone back home and told alessia to call her when you were in labour and she would be straight there with you both.

you were getting yourself a bottle of water from the fridge when you felt a popping sensation, a groan coming from you as you lent on the counter as another contraction came along.

"baby?" alessia called out from the living room, "love are you okay?" she asked again after not getting an answer, you hummed letting the last of your contraction hit.

shaking your head as another hit soon after, "n-no- i think my waters just broke" you whispered feeling slightly embarrassed as the feeling of warm liquid rushed down your legs

"breathe, love. let's get you changed and then we'll head to the hospital" alessia said softly taking your hand and leading you to get a change of clothes.

within half an hour you were changed, hospital bag in hand and being lead down the corridor to the maternity ward by a nurse.

"your midwife will be here in a few minutes to do some checks" the nurse smiled as she lead you both to a private room. you nodded your head your contractions were still very much present and very often. "thank you" alessia spoke for you as she helped you over to the bed.

like the nurse said the midwife came through the door, a few trolleys of medical equipment following her through the door as she began doing your checks and telling you how far you were dilated - 5cm.

“we can give you your epidural now, and then in about an hour or so you’ll probably be ready to start pushing” the midwife explained as both you and alessia nodded along.

“i’ll have the epidural” you said immediately after the midwife had stopped talking, the women nodding and letting you know she would be back in a couple of seconds

"i can't believe that we are going to meet our little girl soon!" alessia whispered kissing the top of you head as you got comfy in hospital bed, a smile creeping on your face it not lasting long as another contraction hit you as your face scrunched up with the sudden pain.

_

"that's it y/n, one more push and the head will be out" the midwife encouraged as you face was pooled with sweat and tears, alessia holding your hand as you squeezed the living day lights out of it.

"you doing so good love!" alessia encouraged, kissing your head as you groaned again, the midwife urging you to push again.

a few more pushes and baby's head had officially been delivered, only a few more were needed to get the rest of the baby out.

"keep pushing, baby's nearly here!" the midwife told you as you hear alessia urging you on with words of encouragement stroking your hair out of your face and within seconds of your last push, you hear a baby cry.

your swear your heart stopped for a second, looking up to alessia who was grinning from ear to ear. "you did it!" she whispered into the side of your face as tears fell down your face and your baby was passed to you on your chest.

"congratulations, you've given birth to a beautiful baby girl!" the midwife smiled as you handed you your baby, as you pushed the towel from covering your little girls face. her little cries stopping as soon as she heard yours and alessia's voices.

"she beautiful" alessia said, stroking the side of her small face, you silently nodding as you both sat admiring your little girl. excitement coursing through you as after a long, tiring nine months your little girl was here.

"welcome to the real world, little one"

liked by giorgiorusso_ and 1,042,106 others

alessia 23/05/24 ☁️

when two became three. me and mummy love you so much our little love🤍

comments -

leahwilliamson my heart🥹 congratulations i can’t wait to meet the little one🤍

31m 129 likes     reply

giorgiorusso_ next in line for me to pass on my football knowledge to!

1h 230 likes     reply

-> alessia in your dreams gio.

yourusername omg your milf era is beginning!

1h 360 likes     reply

-> alessia your my favourite milf<3 forever proud of you

ellatoone oh gosh they grow up so fast🥹

1h 207 likes     reply

-> yourusername your literally younger than us tooney?

[woso-dreamzzz]

Youth Team III

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You have a bad game

You stared down at your gloved hands with a frown, like you couldn't quite believe that you missed it.

You should have caught it but one of Scotland's strikers came barrelling towards you and trapped your hand between her shoulder and the goalpost.

Your fingers throbbed badly and you just managed to block another shot but by a bare brush of your gloves. Your fingers pulsed with pain and you grit your teeth.

It was official.

You were having a bad game, by your standards at least.

Letting one goal past you could take but two were unacceptable. Your saves were sloppy and your footwork even worse. Your defence was having an off day too so there was nowhere to hide.

The armband around your bicep felt like a weight rather than a privilege as you struggled to keep the ball out of your net.

By the time the first half finished, you were disappointed in yourself, a pit deep in your stomach. Letting two goals past you felt like the end of the world. It felt like everything was going wrong and it was all made worse when you tugged off your gloves.

Two of your fingers were purple and swollen.

It made sense why they were throbbing now.

They were both curled over as well and felt stiff. You try to straighten them out and wince, biting down on the inside of your cheek.

No.

This can't be happening.

You hide them under your shirt. If anyone saw then they would take you off. If they took you off then you wouldn't be able to redeem yourself.

Your mothers were in the crowd. You were wearing the captain's armband.

You didn't want Momma to see her daughter being taken out of the game.

You dig around in your bag, pulling out a popsicle stick that moster Frido gave you for emergencies and a roll of medical tape. You shove the stick between your two fingers and wind the tape around them, forcing them to straighten out.

They pulse in protest but you pop a painkiller and grit your teeth.

It's harder to play with two fingers in one finger hole but you're coping and no one seems to notice.

Your defence is still in shambles and you yell at them to get their act together. You're not really a yeller. You don't like to bark orders but you're getting desperate.

Usually, you can allow your defence to be a bit messy but you're not on form and you need them to start pulling their weight.

They don't and the ball skims your finger as you push it away.

"Organise yourselves!" You snap, your frustration bubbling up as your fingers throb in protest," Stop playing like children!"

This is one of the worst games of your life.

Your defence might as well be making daisy chains. Your midfielders keep losing possession and your forwards have grown complacent with your one goal lead.

You're not doing much better either.

None of your saves are smart. You're desperate to keep your measly lead even as your fingers throb and your armband feels tighter and tighter every minute you wear it.

The win leaves a bitter taste in your mouth when the final whistle is blown and you can't help but ignore your defensive line in an attempt to not blow up at them.

Your fingers look terrible as you shower and change, shoving your hand into your hoodie pocket so you don't have to look at your failure.

Your mothers are waiting outside in the car and the rain pelting the windows only seems to make your mood worse.

"A few close calls, huh, princesse?"

It's clear Morsa is trying to laugh this off but you don't want her to talk so you stubbornly plug your earphones in and turn them up until your mothers can hear it too.

You stay silent until you get home.

A win is a win but this is the last game of this international break and you can't help but feel angry at it all. Your flight back to Sweden is tomorrow and you've got two days of rest before you're back at training again.

"Have we got ice?"

It's the first words you've spoken since you left the changing room and your Momma raises a brow.

"Why do you need some?"

You show her your finger and the hasty splint you made.

"Princesse...What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," You reply, turning your head away so you don't have to make eye contact.

Momma looks like she wants to say more but she ends up just shaking her head and going off to find some ice.

Morsa throws your phone at you. "Call Zećira," She says.

"What?"

"Call Zećira. You're upset. You didn't play as well as you hoped. We can't help so call Zećira."

Morsa doesn't give you much of a choice and you dial the number.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Hi..." Your voice is moody and sullen as Morsa stands in front of you with her arms crossed.

"Well, that doesn't sound good. Rough game?"

You look down at your bruised fingers. "Something like that?"

Zećira hums on the other line. "Did you try your best?"

"I guess..."

"That's not an 'I guess' question," She chides," I'm not asking if you were the very best today. I'm not asking if you played in your best form. But, for how you were feeling today, did you try your best?"

"Yes."

"Then that's all that matters."

"How many did they score past you?" Zećira asks," Come on, how many?"

"Two."

"Two goals isn't much in the grand scheme of things. How many did Denmark get?"

"Three."

"You didn't lose," Zećira says," And you tried your best. What else happened?"

"I hurt my fingers. They're all purple and...I didn't get them checked out."

"Put ice on them and get them checked as soon as you're back in Sweden, okay? I've got money placed on those hands winning a World Cup. You've got to keep them safe."

That shocks a laugh out of you. "I will."

"Good. Listen, you're still young. You're allowed to have off days. It's okay."

You sigh. "Things were easier when it was just as in the park."

Zećira laughs too. "I hope you remember those times when you're lifting the World Cup as a captain."

You scoff.

"I'm serious," She says," Maybe not your first World Cup but definitely one of them. I can see it."

"Whatever you say."

[bunnys-kisses]

Can i order Chocolate chip cookies, croissant and coconut water served by ceo!lewis and secretary!reader

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own fic? then hit up the menu! there are tons of options to choose from, large orders and small orders welcomed! and if you have a burning idea that doesn't fit the bakery menu, then request something special! thank you to this lovely anon for a remarkable yet simple prompt! thank you!!

chocolate chip cookies ("you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat") + croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + coconut water (alternate universe) served by ceo!lewis hamilton (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, ceo!lewis, secretary!reader, horner!daughter, office sex, dirty talk, mean & dominant!lewis,

you were told that working for hamilton would be a good idea. your father assured you that working outside of the company he founded would be good for you.

"you can learn so much." your father said with his hands on your shoulders, "working under hamilton will be an amazing experience." your father would've never suggested you work for lewis if he had knew you'd end up with your panties around your ankles and the sound of the big, scary ceo fucking you up against his desk.

"your tits have gotten bigger." he said as he groped them between his large hands. you looked at lewis from under your lashes, "didn't get any work done, did you? i feel like that's something i should know."

most bosses did not care about the size of their secretary's breasts. they definitely didn't grope them like they were a toy. but still, you were in lewis' lap with his hands on you. he smelled lightly of liquor, something he gave a little to you earlier while you were perched in his lap.

"no, sir. just went home last weekend."

lewis made a small pleased noise, "did you do anything? anything i should know about?" when your father called in to check in on you, lewis hid some of the details. you were doing so well (at taking lewis' cock), you were a hard worker (you didn't cry when he choked you anymore), and you were such a team player (anything lewis wanted. you were game for).

like when lewis let his associates have an afternoon with you on his boat, where you served them drinks. verstappen got a good eye of your breasts in the tiny bikini and sainz almost dropped his drink out of his hand when he saw you bend over to pick up something that lewis (purposefully) dropped on the ground. you looked painfully cute, even when you got into lewis' lap when you were done your serving duties. and stayed comfortable in his lap while he talked business. but the men with him were too busy seeing if your nipples were going to slip out of the tiny bikini top.

you shook your head, "no, sir. went to my apartment and drank wine." you winced when he groped your thigh once more.

his nose was up against your neck as he held onto you, "shame. you could've spent the weekend with me." he rubbed your thigh almost tenderly, "leclerc would've been happy to see you." you knew you weren't the only secretary who was being fucked by their boss.

his fingers trailed across the bottom of your skirt. you held onto him tightly. you shuddered a little at his touch, he loved the sight of you. when you got all flustered in his lap.

"i know, sir. but if i spend too much time at the office. my father might get suspicious." you said as his thick fingers dragged across your cunt which made you gasp a little.

"mmm. i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me." he said softly, before he got you off his lap and onto the desk. he shoved two of his fingers into your mouth, you could taste the bit of wetness on them. you whined and arched your back while he pushed your skirt up over your ass. it exposed the pretty panties with the daisies on them. a personal favourite.

you happily sucked his fingers like the eager girl you were. you whimpered against his digits. your heart hammered in your chest while you tried to be quiet for him.

"while i think you're beautiful when you smile. but, you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat. too bad i can't take your throat right now. but i know she misses me." referring to your pussy.

he took his fingers out your mouth and you covered your mouth with your hands. you couldn't be too loud, as much as lewis enjoyed your kitten mewls. he eyed your pretty wet cunt when he got your panties around your ankles. he got his cock out of his slacks and loosened his tie. you really knew how to get him going.

"you know how to behave, baby girl. always so good for me." then watched you tense up while he got his cock into you. in all fairness you were sort of bad at your job, he was certain this favor for horner was only meant to last a few months before you were swapped out with someone more competent.

but he was certain the no other woman he hired would have a pussy like yours. how easily he could sink into you, the perfect feeling. you bit your bottom lip and whimpered against your palms.

"that's it. see, you are good at something. maybe your father was right, that there was some kind of work ethic in you. maybe it's not what he hoped for. he thought you'd be a lovely book keeper. not bent over my desk with your pretty ass in the air." he groped your flesh, he could feel the heat under his palms. next time he'd lay a few heavy smacks across it. if the office wasn't too busy.

you whimpered a little bit and tried to defend yourself but lewis put his hand on your head and pressed your cheek to the hard desk. you were only the secretary. your job was to take calls and get coffee. decision making on his level was not need to be good at your job.

it didn't help that you knew your insides would be bruised.

he moved against you and you felt hot all over. you panted heavily while he kept you pinned onto the desk. you heavily panting against the hard wood of the desk. he was a man of power doing your father a favour. you had no real skills besides how you could be a good girl for powerful men like hamilton.

"lewis." you moaned softly. you could feel the heat down your neck, your core was soaked because of him. he had trained you so well over the last few months.

"ah, i'm not doing a good job right now. you're still able to form words." then picked up the pace. which made you flail a little bit until he kept you pinned down onto the desk by the back of your neck.

you felt a lot more in a daze he continued to hit your sweet cervix. his cock bullies and bruised you. and you clawed at the desk. a behaving little girl.

he came first. not because he was a fast finisher, but rather he tasted your cunt until he got his satisfaction first. which left you feeling more blissed out, his cock still hard inside of you.

you came hard, just like you have done every other time. lewis knew how to make you crazy. you clenched onto the side of the desk as you climaxed around him. you panted heavily and felt your brain go blank for moment as you relaxed against the wood. squishing your pretty breasts against it.

he grabbed your ass for a moment before he was a gentleman and pulled your pretty panties over your ass before he gave it a pat. he got himself back into his slacks and he got your skirt back over your ass.

you weren't thinking about much when he got you back into his lap. his cum soaked the front of your panties. you rested against him and he held onto your hand carefully.

"maybe we should call your father while i give you your performance review." his finger dragged across your slit once more. he could feel the wet patch and smiled. poor little thing.

you nodded and lewis was only going to tell your old man how good you were working for him. you'll be with the company for a few more months, and then you'll be the stay-at-home wife for lewis hamilton. <3

[hanniebaeee]

This man

Best friend Jeonghan x fem!reader

Warnings: maybe a little swearing, kissing

Genre: idiots to lovers, fluff/suggestive MDNI

Summary: You've loved your best friend, Jeonghan, since forever. You're so obvious, but he's an idiot. The question is, are you an idiot too?

You spot Jeonghan as soon as you step into the cafe. This was one of your most favorite cafes, so many good memories here. He was with Joshua (as usual). You and Jeonghan were best friends since primary school, and he found Joshua during his University years. Two best friends from two different times.

You wave hi and take off your coat, hanging it on the back of your chair before sitting down. Jeonghan looked at what you were wearing and smiled. Somehow you two had managed to dress similarly on one too many occasions. Today he wore a pastel green and white chequered shirt with light blue jeans, while you were dressed in a pastel green dress with little white daisies sprinkled on it.

'So, what was so important that I had to get here asap?' You ask.

'Were you busy?' Joshua asked. 'We could have met later.'

'I was working on something with Ver-' You were cut off by Jeonghan who was placing your order all of a sudden, very loudly.

He knew your regular order from here, so he ordered without even asking you. And you just stare at him (a little starstruck every time, but also with a stab of annoyance this time). Communication wasn't one of Jeonghan's strongest points and miscommunication, on the other hand, his natural self. You knew he was mad about something.

'So you were saying?' Joshua said, taking a sip of his coffee.

'Right. I was with VERNON.' You said, emphasising on your friend's name because you knew this made Jeonghan very jealous.

You didn't even know what it was about Vernon that got to Jeonghan so much. Vernon was one of the coolest people you've ever met. You felt lucky to be working with him since he always had the most creative ideas (and best snacks and the bestest cats!).

'Oh right, how's that new project going?' Joshua asked, ignoring Jeonghan's annoyed sighs.

'Really well!' You reply with a smile and you could sense Jeonghan's eyes bore holes into your head.

'What's the matter Jeonghan?' You ask, giving him an irritated look. 'What are you looking at me like that for?!'

'I'm waiting for you to stop gushing over Vernon for a minute' Jeonghan retorted.

'Yah! I wasn't gushing!' You snap, kicking him under the table.

'Oh real mature, Y/N' he grumbled kicking you back. But his shoe landed on your bare calf, making you gasp.

'That's my leg you idiot!' You say, glaring at him.

He looked to the side as you lift your leg from under the table. His expression changed immediately.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry' he cooed suddenly, bending down to run his hand over the skin. You feel butterflies in your tummy as his fingers touch your skin.

'It's alright.' You said, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

You sit up straight, only to see Joshua giving you a look.

'What?!' I mouthed to him and he just shook his head with a grin.

Jeonghan straightened as well and said 'You obviously enjoy spending time with him more than with me now.'

'Like you enjoy spending time with Joshua more than with me?' You tease back.

'I don't!' Jeonghan whined.

'Yah!' Joshua had a funny frown on his face.

'Stop bullying me now!' Jeonghan said, taking a bite of his cake.

'Ok ok, so what's the 'thing' you had to tell me?' You ask, digging your fork into Jeonghan's cake.

'So we're having a party at ours this weekend to celebrate the release of my first single album!' Joshua said with a big grin. 'It's doing really well, so we thought we should celebrate. Just some close friends.'

'Oh great!' You said with a smile. 'It's all I see every time I open social media!'

Joshua blushed and said, 'You should bring Vernon too.'

'Of course I will.' You said and you could see Jeonghan rolling his eyes at that.

Jeonghan was mad at you all day. He ignored you and backed out of any conversation you were part of. It made you so mad!.

'Whats the matter babe?' Vernon asked.

'Hannie's being a bitch and I don't even know why!' You muttered, taking his cup from him and sipping his drink.

'Go talk to him' Vernon said with a shrug.

'Right, he runs away every time I try.' You said sadly, sitting next to him, and placing you head on his shoulder. He rested his head on yours and said, 'You two are the biggest idiots I know.'

'What? Why?!' You asked sitting up and looking at him.

'Because, Jeonghan is whipped for you. And you are for him. Two idiots.'

'He's my best friend.' You said with a pout.

'So? Can't best friends love each other? Can't they be a couple?' Vernon asked.

'Yah, don't be loud!' You whispered, touching his hand.

'Well?' He asked. 'I know you love him. Not as a best friend, but as something more.'

'I can't risk it, Vernon. He's not just my friend, he's literally my whole life.' You said sadly. 'I would rather be his friend than going and ruining it all for more.'

'Darling, he feels the same way' he said. 'You should see the way he looks at you and the way he's glaring at me right now' Vernon laughed.

'Stop it!' You said, slapping his hand. 'Oh God, help me!'

'Go for it!' Vernon hyped you up. 'Please, so that he would stop giving me those death stares'.

'He does not!' You said, not believing your own words since you knew how he felt about your friendship with Vernon.

'Please turn around' Vernon said, and you did slowly.

Jeonghan had a drink in hand and he leaned against the door to the kitchen. He WAS actually glaring at you both. You have never seen such a look on Jeonghan. He wasn't a hot head. He actually never got that mad - he was more into solving his problems strategically than with his fists.

'You should go.' Vernon said again, nudging you with his elbow.

'I think I should' You agree and stand up. Taking a deep breath, you walk towards Jeonghan. Seeing you, he pushed himself off the door and started walking away. You run, blocking his way.

'Hey!' You said, 'I want to talk.'

'I don't' he said, trying to step away. He was way taller than you, so it wasn't that hard for him to escape.

'Hannie please!', You said in a small voice, head hung. The only voice you knew would get him. You were right because he froze and turned to look at you. Taking your chin between his index finger and thumb, he raised your face up.

'What's wrong?' He asked, his voice laced with worry.

'We have to talk' You said, and he nodded, taking your hand and leading you to his bedroom. He shut the door behind you. Folding his hands against his chest, he said 'Go on'

You squirmed under his gaze. He was just looking and you were falling apart.

'Um' Your voice and vocabulary decided to say goodbye at the very moment and you stood gaping at the gorgeous man in front of you. His beautiful brown eyes set on you and his dark hair falling over his forehead, almost over his eyes. His black round neck T-shirt and light blue jeans looked perfect on him. You thought he was way too beautiful for someone like you.

You felt the soft material of your navy blue dress crumble under your tight grip.

'What's it sweetheart?' He asked softly. 'Since when do you need all this time and formality to tell me anything, hm?

'Since I'm an idiot and a little bit greedy at this point.' You said, blushing.

'What do you mean?' He asked.

You couldn't look at him. You were embarrassed of yourself, and your pathetic attempt to tell this gorgeous human being that you have been in love with him for a good 10 years. You wanted to cry and you wanted him to just understand already. But Hannie's a tease. Even if he knew he wouldn't say anything.

You sigh and said, 'Sorry I wasted your time, Hannie. You should get back to your party.'

He looked way too shocked to even move. And the look on his face scared you to death.

'You've gotta be kidding me!' He said, his eyes wide.

'Whaat?!' You whine.

'You should try not to tease a man like that!' He growled. 'I just want to spank you for all the times you bring it this far and brush me off!'

'Oh woah woah woah!' You say, holding your hands up. 'Me?! I AM THE TEASE NOW?!'

'Of course you are!! Every single time I think that it's about to happen you pull away! You FUCKING pull away and leave me hanging!'

'I've NEVER brushed you off!' You said, your body shaking. 'Why would I ?!'

'Why don't you tell me that?' Jeonghan snapped.

'Why don't you?'

'You first'

'Jeonghan!' You let out a frustrated sigh.

'I won't let you out of this room until you give me an honest answer.' Jeonghan said, shaking his head.

'Oh right, we'll see about that!' You snap and walk towards the door.

He was there first with his bloody long legs. He blocked your way, locked the door and pressed his back to it.

'Move.' You said as seriously as youbcould. 'Now.'

'I'm sorry, can't do that'

'Why Jeonghan, pray tell!' You said, trying to pry him off the door.

'You know why sweetheart' he said, his voice low and menacing.

'I don't! I can't think why, ok?' You lied, even though could see it now. Vernon was right. THIS MAN!

'Oh you know.' jeonghan teased. 'I can see it on your face.'

'I could just kill you right now!' You mutter, taking your hands off him.

'You naughty girl. Brining Vernon here even though you know that it makes me so mad.' He said, taking a step towards you.

'Hannie. Stop.' You said, putting your hands against his chest to hold him back. 'Vernon is my friend. You know that.'

'Really? Just a friend?' Jeonghan asked, his voice anything but innocent.

'Yes' You said.

'Doesn't feel like it'

'Wow, sounds like a you problem!'

He took another step forward, you took one back. The back of your legs hit his bed and you lost balance. You plopped down at the edge of the bed, looking up at him. Your heart raced and the butterflies in your tummy did you no good. He just looked at you and he looked absolutely ravishing.

'Jeonghan, stop looking at me like that!' You whine, covering your warm face with your cold hands.

You hear a chuckle before he kneels down in front of you.

'What's wrong baby?' He teased, his hands on your wrists, pulling your hands off your face. 'Don't hide from me.'

'Oh my God!' You were absolutely melting under his gaze.

He laughed, not his usual gremlin laugh, but a more sweeter one.

'Are you shy?' He asked. 'Really? For me?'

'I won't shy away from slapping you if you don't stop teasing me!' You warn him.

'Go on then.' He said, turning his face a bit, showing you his right cheek. 'I don't think I can ever stop.'

And you shocked yourself by pressing a kiss on his soft cheek. And before you could pull back, you felt his hand at the nape of your neck. And his lips against yours. You think you died for a moment there, before he pulled you back to life.

Biting his lip, he watched you. Then he kissed you again. And again. And again.

'Baby why are you crying?' He asked, his forehead pressed to yours.

You didn't even realize that you were crying until he asked that question. Wiping your face quickly with the back of your hands, you said 'I've wanted to do that for so long, Hannie'

'How long?' He asked, tilting his head.

'Um... 10 years?' You said, shy and embarrassed.

'What?!' That incredulous look came back to his face. 'You kept this from me for 10 years?!'

'I was scared!' You said. 'I didn't want to lose you!'

'Did you ever stop to think that maybe I felt it too? Why do you think I never had a girlfriend? Why did I put you first all the time?'

'I thought you had a secret girlfriend because you used to giggle into your phone all the time after you started uni!' You said with a shrug.

'What?! I don't giggle!' He said, squeezing your thigh.

'That's not the point. The point is that I thought you met someone at uni. Until I knew that it was just Joshua. Then I thought you were with Joshua!'

'You DID NOT!' he said, turning beet red.

'I'm sorry, Hannie. I knew that when you brought him home' I said giving him a sheepish smile. 'He wouldn't stop flirting with me, haha'

'Mhm' he said with a smile. 'And?'

'And?'

'You wanted to say something?' He asked, his hand still on your thigh.

'Maybe' you muttered. 'Since you're being a big baby and you won't say it first.'

He didn't say anything, just grinned.

'I love you, Hannie. I'm so in love with you.' You said, your insides feeling warm and fuzzy. 'So so much.'

'Yeah?' He asked, cupping your face with his hands. 'That's good, because I'm in love with you too.'

You squeal like a little girl and throw your arms around him, giggling and kissing his cheek.

'Say it again' you say, holding him close.

'I love you. I love you. I love you.' He said, hugging you tight. He kissed you again, long and deep. His lips are wet and warm on yours. This is simply the bestest kiss ever. Then with one arm around you, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone.

'Shua's looking for us' he said, putting it back.

'Come on, let's get back to the party. Poor Shua.' You said, standing up.

On your way to the door, you stopped still as you felt his hand land a slap on your butt. Face red and voice shaky, you asked, 'What was that for?!'

'For cuddling up to Vernon before' Jeonghan replied simply.

'I thought we were over that'

'You deserve it for teasing me all day!'

'Says the tease!' You retort and move back quickly as he took big steps towards you, caging you between his body and the door, his arms on either side of you. You grin even though this made your legs go all wobbly.

'You are so hot, oh my god!' You said, hands covering your face again.

He laughed and said 'I'm trying to look intimidating here!'

'Ok, hot and intimidating' You said, as he pulled your hands off your face. Again.

He just leaned forward and delivered another mind blowing kiss. 'And, just so you know, you're hot as fuck too'

You laughed and said, 'I love you Hannie'

'I love more, baby.' he said with a wink.

Joshua and Vernon grinned like idiots as they saw you, but were kind enough to keep the teasing for later. But you knew that you wouldn't hear the end of it for a very long time.

When Jeonghan drove you back home, you asked him if he wanted to go up to your apartment with you.

'And do what?' He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

'Shut up!' You said, turning away to hide your burning cheeks.

He laughed, parking the car and coming up with you. Your roommate was spending the weekend with her boyfriend so you had the house to yourself. Keeping your shoes on the rack near the door, you walked in, for the first time as a couple.

Jeonghan followed you into your bedroom and climbed into your bed. He patted the spot next to him and held out his hand for you. Heart fluttering and legs shaking, you were way too nervous.

Though you have had way too many naughty dreams and fantasies about Jeonghan, seeing him on your bed was a bit scary. You've slept on the same bed so many times over the years, but things are so different and easy when you're just friends.

You put your hand in his, letting him pull you into his arms. Placing your head in his chest and listening to his heartbeats felt surreal. He may have noticed how tense your body was because he kissed your forehead and said 'We don't have to do anything today, ok? I just want to cuddle with you and kiss you for now. We can take it slow.'

'Thank you Hannie' You said, feeling relieved.

You place a soft kiss on his chest. Jeonghan smiled and pulled you closer, if that was even possible. Flush against his toned body, you were trembling a bit.

'Hannie?'

'Yeah?'

'I've only ever dreamed of this...I can't believe you're really here, like this-' You didn't even know what you were saying.

'Yeah? What other dreams do you have? We'll make them all true!' Jeonghan whispered, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

'Don't be so cute!' You said, burying your face in his chest again.

His breathy laughs were the best. Everything about him was just more beautiful now. He's your boyfriend after all.

a/n: I'm in love with these cute dividers by @saradika ❤

[tkwrites]

He's Got It Bad - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif by 40ep

Title: He’s got it bad

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (OFC) 

Warnings: Swearing, lots of teasing & chirping, mild spoilers if you've never seen the original Jurassic Park.

Summary: When Sarah meets the team at Conor's birthday party, not only does she get to know Quinns teammates and their partners, she enters a world she never expected. At practice the next day, the guys congratulate and tease Quinn mercilessly.

Word Count: 2,600

Comments: I’m sorry this one took me so long, Daisy! I started it two or three months ago, but couldn’t find the right way to finish it. And then earlier this week, as I was falling asleep, it just snapped into place. I hope you enjoy it! 

As before, the research described here is dubious at best, so please take it with a big grain of salt.

If you did enjoy this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

dasiysthings asked: If you’re taking requests/suggestions for Quinn and Sarah au doing a Sarah meeting the team for the first time has been on my mind lately. What would they think of her? Sure Quinn’s mentioned her and they saw sarah in the stands her first game but maybe she attends a team function like birthday party or team family meal. Something low key and not public maybe? Also how much do they tease Quinn after?🫣🤭

He’s got it bad

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Are you free on Thursday?” 

It was a rare night off, and he’d requested they order food and watch a movie. Currently, they were lounging in a giant bean bag in the gaming room. Quinn was partially on top of Sarah, his head resting on her chest as the first Jurassic Park played on the large screen.

“I think so. Why?”

“Garly’s having a party that night for his birthday. I hoped you might want to come with me.” 

“Who?”

“Garly,” he repeated before correcting himself, “Conor. Garland. From the team.”

Quinn had mentioned Conor before, and she knew he was one of the trio of guys he was really close to.  

“Sure,” she said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt. “Who will be there?”

“Most of the guys and their partners if they have them.”

“Is it going to be wild?” she asked, winding one of his curls around her finger. She needed to prepare herself if it was going to be a night full of drinking. 

“Nah, Conor’s pretty chill, and we have a game the next day.”

“Okay,” she agreed again, splaying her fingers through his dark waves, letting them slip and slide over her skin. For someone who washed it so often, he had remarkably soft hair. 

 Nuzzling into her chest a little more, he sighed. He loved when she played with his hair.

Sarah jumped when the Dilophosaurus appeared on screen, tilting its head at Nedry. 

Quinn laughed. She hadn’t even flinched when the T-Rex had tried to attack the kids through one of the park cars. “You okay?”

“I hate this one,” she said, turning her head to the side. 

He glanced at the TV in time to see the dinosaur hiss and pop its frill. “You hate this more than the T-Rex?” 

“At least the T-Rex is just a big predator. This one stalks and tortures first, and I hate it,” she said, face still turned away. 

“But Nedry deserved it.” 

“Maybe so, but I still don’t like to think about it.” 

He chuckled.

Only after the yells faded away did she turn back to the movie and continue tracing her fingers through his hair. 

By the time Thursday came around, Quinn realized just how nervous Sarah was. She texted him about the dress code three hours before he was supposed to pick her up.

It’s a party, he’d written back, unsure of what she meant. 

Yeah, but is it like a heels and cocktails party? Or a backyard barbecue party?

Well, it’s been raining all week, so I’m pretty sure we’ll be indoors.

Don’t be a smartass. 

Just casual. Food and drinks. 

She’d called him then, and he’d answered, confused. “Hey?” 

“I just…” she began, “this is the first time I’m meeting most of your teammates and their girlfriends and I don’t want to be the only one in jeans when everyone else is in dresses. I want to make a good impression.” 

“You’ll make a good impression no matter what you’re wearing.”

A breath blew out of her nose, whistling by the phone speaker, “you don’t get it.” 

“Don’t I?” 

“Quinn, you wear the same thing all the time.” 

“First of all, I do not.”

He continued before she could get out her retort that Brady could back her up on this fact. “And secondly, everything I’ve seen you wear would be fine for this. You always look nice.”

And he meant it. Even in her aquarium uniform, which consisted of a blue t-shirt or polo with the aquarium logo and whatever pants she happened to be wearing that day, she always looked put together.

She made some noise in her throat like she thought he was telling tales. 

“Look, you might get some looks if you showed up in a trash bag or something.” 

Laughter barked out of her mouth. “Why would I ever wear a trash bag?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just saying that barring an unhinged trash bag outfit, you’ll be fine. People are just excited to meet you.” 

“You told them I’m coming?” she asked, feeling sudden nerves attack her stomach. 

“Yeah. Conor suggested I invite you. The guys want to meet you.” Plus, ever since she'd met Brady, he'd wanted her to meet everyone in his life.

“Oh,” she said quietly. 

“Just wear what you feel comfortable in, and I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Sarah said, feeling even more anxious than before she’d called him.

She couldn’t even wear her go-to outfit for when she was nervous. St. Patricks day was the next weekend, and she’d asked Quinn to come to her uncles and needed the green dress for that. Plus, it was freezing and sleety outside. A dress was not the way to go. 

Jane walked by, and Sarah called her in. 

“What happened here?” Jane asked, taking in the clothing spread all over Sarah’s usually tidy room, and Sarah herself standing in her underwear. 

The only thing she could decide on was the blue bra, which always made her feel confident and sexy. She’d paired it with a matching pair of underwear.

“I’m going to a party with some of Quinn’s teammates tonight,” she said. 

Janes eyes widened with what Sarah thought was the appropriate amount of concern. 

“So I’m trying to figure out what to wear. The dress is out,” she said, gesturing to where it was hanging in the closet. 

Jane bit her lip, surveying the chaos. “My vote is for those boyfriend jeans that make your thighs look killer,” she said. 

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have someone express a definitive opinion. She’d put those same jeans on earlier but stripped them right back off, worried all the other women would be in fancier dress. “You don’t think they’ll be too casual?” 

“What kind of a party is it?” 

“Birthday.”

Jane looked her over, “you’ll be fine. Killer jeans, nice top. Quinn won’t know what hit him.” 

She pulled the jeans on, hopping as she tugged them over her hips, “thanks. I’m just so nervous.” 

Jane sat on her bed and began putting shirts back on their discarded hangers, “I don’t think you need to be.” 

“No?”

She shook her head, “from the way he was looking at you when he stayed for dinner that night you guys made up, I’m not sure anything could put him off you.”

Sarah felt her cheeks flush. 

“Anyway,” Jane said, pulling a purple blouse out from underneath her, “I think you should wear this. It looks good with your eyes.”

“Thanks, Jane,” she said, gathering the other woman into a hug, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Sarah was already in the lobby when Quinn pulled up to her building. She wore medium wash jeans a dark raincoat. He appreciated that she was wearing flat boots instead of some fussy heel. She threw the hood up to block the rain before running out to his car. 

When they got to the house, he opened the door without knocking before leading her inside. There was a coat rack already brimming with wet jackets, and Sarah stripped hers off to hang up with the others. 

Quinn stopped in his tracks halfway through unzipping his own jacket. 

He thought he’d seen all of Sarah’s clothes. Which was a stupid notion now that he thought about it — they hadn’t been dating for that long — but she tended to wear a kind of uniform.

Today, though, her jeans fit her like a glove — clinging to the curves of her thighs and hips. He was certain she’d never worn them before. He would have remembered. Seeing her in them now, he wished she’d given him some kind of warning.

When he didn’t follow her, Sarah turned, which was worse. The purple blouse she wore skimmed over her breasts and had a pattern embroidered around the collar. The color somehow made her eyes brighter and lips more pink. He had no idea that could happen.

He felt like he needed to catch his breath as a surge of attraction reared in his stomach.

Not only were the guys going to tease him mercilessly for being with someone new, he was going to have to watch her in those jeans all night. The mental exertion it was going to take to not pop a boner was already making him tired. 

Before his mind could truly go to war about the pros and cons of just turning to go back to his place, Conor called out, “Huggy? Is that you?” 

Too late to turn back now. “Yeah,” he said, not taking his eyes off Sarah. 

“Huggy?” she repeated.

“It’s a long story.”

The thrill of touching her reared to life again as he took her hand to guide her into the house. He made his mind focus on math equations for the walk into the kitchen and hoped it would be enough. 

“Hey!” Conor greeted, immediately grasping Quinn in a hug when they walked into the kitchen.  “You must be the elusive Sarah Huggy won’t stop telling us about,” he said as they broke apart.

“Good things, I hope,” Sarah joked as they shook hands.

“Well, he certainly didn’t lie about how pretty your eyes are,” a woman said, coming up to stand next to Conor, running her hand along his forearm before entwining their fingers.

The color that pinked her cheeks made Quinn’s knees want to buckle. God, he was in deep.

The strange thing was that he wasn’t scared about it. That had to mean something good.

“I’m Meghan, and this is Conor,” she said with a bright, friendly smile. 

More introductions were made, and Sarah tried to keep track of everyone, but there were at least 40 people there, and she felt instantly overwhelmed. She should have known. She knew how many people were on a hockey team, but it was still a little shocking to meet everyone all at once. 

They were absorbed into one of the small groups of people, and Sarah sipped from her seltzer only to find it was lemon flavored, not pineapple like she'd expected. She frowned at the can. 

“Do you want something different?” Quinn asked, noticing the disappointed look on her face.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Conor and JT glance at each other. 

“No, it’s okay. I was just expecting pineapple, so the lemon was a bit of a shock.”

“There’s pineapple in there,” Meghan said, gesturing with her own can. 

“I’ll get you one,” he said, turning to the fridge. 

She caught his arm and he turned back, “it’s fine, Quinn. This one’s already open. It’s not a big deal. Most seltzer tastes the same anyway.” 

“I’m glad someone can finally admit that,” Brock said, lifting his beer to his lips.

His pretty blonde girlfriend smacked him on the arm, “just because you can’t tell the difference doesn’t mean no one else can.”

Sarah smiled at them. They were cute together - like a model midwestern couple. 

“So, Sarah,” JT said, pulling her focus, “Quinn tells us you work at the aquarium.” 

She went through her usual explanation of her schooling and research.

“Tell them about Tuesday,” Quinn prompted. 

Everyone in the group looked between them expectantly. JT and Conor shared another glance. 

“What happened Tuesday?” Natalie asked, taking the bait right away. 

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of experiments with Walter to see if he can taste my mood.”

“What?” 

“Octopus have tastebuds and nerve endings in every suction cup that far surpass our own, so I’ve been wondering if he can taste the hormones on my skin. Anyway, I sprayed some Cortisol, which is the hormone that releases when you’re stressed, on my hands to see how he’d react, and he went from seemingly happy to see me to very subdued almost immediately.” 

“Whoa,” Brock said. 

“Yeah,” she agreed, eyes brightening. “It was really amazing. With some more experiments, I think I could probably use this as the basis research for my thesis.” 

“Exactly how did this guy convince you to date him?” JT asked, pointing at Quinn.

Natalie smacked his arm. 

“No, I’m serious. You’re really smart. You know Huggy didn’t even finish college, right?” 

What the hell was this nickname? 

“I did finish college,” Quinn interrupted, “I graduated last year.” 

“Whatever,” JT said with a dismissive hand as if that detail didn’t matter. “Does he have you under some sort of mind control?” 

Sarah laughed out loud, and Quinn’s eyes darted to her, catching her wide open smile. 

“Cause she couldn’t just like me,” he defended, sarcastically

“A girl like this? This pretty and this smart?” JT asked, “it’s hard to believe, Huggy.” 

Even though she could see the glint of humor in his eyes and knew he was only teasing, Sarah still stepped in, “Nope. No mind control.” She emphasized the statement by reaching for his hand, “You know as well, probably better than I do that Quinn has really great qualities. He's a really good guy.” 

JT leaned back on the counter, a jokingly suspicious look still on his face as he glanced between them. 

Quinn could feel himself blushing. He didn’t mean for Sarah to come to his defense like that. He didn’t mean to put her in that position. All the same, he was a little glad for it. JT had a way of teasing a persons insecurities right out of them, and to know Sarah didn’t feel the same way eased something in him. 

“Our daughter loves the aquarium,” Natalie cut in fluidly as if she was used to smoothing over her husbands’ aggressive teasing.

“Let me know the next time you come by,” Sarah said without missing a beat, “I’ll give you a personal tour.”

“Oh, she’d love that. We’ll have to get a group of us together.” 

JT gave her a genuine smile, and Sarah let a little breath go in her chest. 

At the next mornings practice, Quinn ran through drills and exercises, ears pricked for the inevitable teasing he knew would be coming his way. 

To his surprise, it didn’t come until the end, after he’d showered and was dressing in his stall.

“Dude, you've got it bad,” Joshua teased as he walked by, “I’ve never seen you look at someone like that,” he said, adopting a sappy, lovestruck expression. 

“I don’t know if you can top the way he was about to chuck that can of seltzer away from her because she didn’t like it,” JT said.

“Right?” Conor agreed, laughing, “‘Do you want something different? Let me get you a new can.’” He mimed rushing around searching. 

“Don’t forget the first time he told us about her,” Brock cut in, “he was like fucking Aladdin, ‘she’s got these eyes.’” 

Joining in the laughter, Quinn tossed his towel in their direction. 

Conor caught it easily. “Our little Huggy’s in love,” he teased, elongating the last word into several syllables. 

“Guys,” he said, leveling them with a look he hoped would shut the conversation down. “We’ve only known each other 9 weeks.” 

“So you’ve been keeping track,” Brock surmised, glancing around with a knowing expression. 

Guess he may as well get comfortable in this hole he dug for himself.

He’d dished out this same chirping when Brock had brought Bella around for the first time and knew it was best to just let it lie, and eventually, it would become old news. 

When he didn’t deny it, the boys around him all whooped and hollered enough that everyone else in the room looked over.

“Seriously though,” JT went on, “I have no idea how you landed her, but she’s a great girl."

"And,” he continued with a smirk, “if you ever get bored of her, I'm sure Kuzy’ll take her off your hands. He wouldn’t stop looking at her all night.” 

Quinn glared, more offended at the insinuation he would get bored of Sarah. 

JT laughed, raucous and loud, “Oh, he’s got it bad, alright.”

He couldn’t stop the flush that rushed into his cheeks. 

“Don't worry, Huggy. No one's gonna steal your girl.” 

Shaking his head, Quinn shoved his sneakers on.  

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[MDNI, Mention of Suicide, Smoking, Non-consensual Choking, Alcohol Consumption]

[6.6k words] 🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 9 "The Glass"

Good things never lasted.

You were going to get a bitter reminder of that little fact by the end of the day and looking back, you wished you’d just died the night before when you were happy.

Cooper had left before sunrise, rasped a few commands to stay put and that he wouldn’t be long, to talk to Mitzi if you needed anything and put it on his tab. You’d been too drowsy to consider the anomaly, him leaving you to your leisure, out of his sight for more than a few moments. Your answer had been barely coherent, muffled into the pillow as your body lay squished between the mattress and the ghoul. Sloppy palms had given your plushy hips a few squeezes, a brash peck or two to your shoulder and he was gone.

You awoke properly a few hours later, late into the morning. The bleary memories flooded back, but the warm sunlight and the clinking and buzz of life stirring from the main floor kept the dread from sinking too deep.

He’d be back, you weren’t abandoned, the leathery bandolier discarded on the couch said as much, it eased your uncertainty the moment you’d spotted it behind a curtain of messy hair. And until then, Mitzi would be your consolation. Harmless naivety had you imagining serving customers and clearing up tables while indulging in idle chatter together, counting caps and scribbling orders while immersed in a lighthearted repartee.  

After a prolonged yawn and a thorough stretch that earned a few satisfying pops from your back, you slid from beneath the heavy, woolen comforter. Your boots are neatly set on the floor beside the foot of the bed, tights stuffed inside one of them while your socks occupy the other; you fiddle with them, pull them on, and tie them securely.

A peculiar, but not unfamiliar symphony catches your attention and you peek out the window curiously. The huddled, snoozing brahmin from last night are now serenely moping around the front yard, grazing at the scarce weeds that sprout around the vegetable garden or sunbathing on the powdery ground. There’s a person tending the plants, clad in a large straw hat and baggy clothes, ankles deep in mud and with an empty bucket on their hip along with a pair of rusty sheers.

Fingers comb through your hair and pat it down to a barely presentable state before you rub the sleep out of your eyes and roll the stiffness out of your shoulders. Standing, you shake the numbness off and tap the tip of your shoes into the floor to set them in place.

The smell of coffee lingers, sharp and bitter, it leads you through the mouldering corridor and down the creaky stairs, into the bar. The music still plays and the shadowy figures are now nothing more than brooding travelers nurturing either a hangover or sleeplessness. Daytime is less kind to the appearance of the guesthouse, specs of dust can be spotted in the brash sunrays flooding through the windows, the time-touched signs on every bit of furniture are obvious now. The omnicity and furtiveness have vanished, all is mundane and regular; the cigarette smog yet persists, rivaled only by the stench of old grease being reheated to prepare the breakfast items from the menu.

“Cooper’s runt.”

Your head snaps to the bar and there stands a beefy woman who would easily beat most if not all her clientele in arm wrestling. A stick-and-poke tattoo of a cupid is proudly displayed on her shoulder, a mane of curly black hair is tied back into a low ponytail, beady eyes are eating you up like a snack and you instinctively straighten out some of the less defined creases in your dress.

“Uh…Good morning?” you bear an uneasy smile, hoping that her comment was one of bluntness and not hostility.

The gold in her mouth glints as she beckons you closer with a canine grin.

“Indeed a good mornin’. Not a single raider got cooked on the fence yesterday and m’ dogs didn’t stir all night!” leaving the pile of caps for later, she rests an elbow on the counter and extends a hand to you. “I’m guessing Mitzie was too hyper to give me a proper introduction. Happens sometimes when unfamiliar faces stop by, don’t mind ‘er.” you shake her hand with hesitancy and pull away too hastily for someone who’s trying to mask their intimidation. She scoffs at your skittish nature. “M’ name’s Monique, owner of this fine establishment.”

As if on cue with you sitting on one of the bar stools, a strikingly large hound pokes its head from behind the mass of stained coffee cups yet to be cleared for washing and greets you with a bellowing bark. You start with a choked cry and recoil as the furless beast strains forward with a twitching snout, eager to give you a good sniff.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Bucky, down!” Monique is quick to scold the dog and its once perked ears lower, the energetic whining, however, doesn’t waver. “What I tell you ‘bout scaring customers? You ain’t a pup no more.”

She pushes down on his massive head until he’s out of sight, but the visually grotesque mutt is far from discouraged. Carrying the heart of a Labrador, he’s set to complete his innocent mission of establishing a new friendship and add it to his vast collection.

You hear the patter of clawed paws and soon he reappears, having circled the counter and now eagerly sat beside your chair, beaming up at you while his curious nose pokes at the side of your thigh. Your first instinct is to stiffen, Bucky isn’t the only mongrel you’ve seen, but the rest had all been rabid and out for blood, driven mad by both homelessness and radiation.

“He don’t bite.”

You vaguely register his owner’s quip, attention glued to the shiny slobber being happily spread over your tights.

There are dogs like Cujo and dogs like Lassie and your caution was founded, but it was doing Bucky a disservice. Poor bud was pleading for a pat and a good belly rub. Gathering enough courage to still the shakiness of your fingers, you plant them gently over the pooch’s wrinkled forehead and let them rest there to see his reaction. He’s delighted, the stump of a tail on his butt almost vibrating when you reach to scratch behind his chewed-up ear.

“Good pup.” you mirror his doggy grin, lovingly assaulting him with both hands now and he’s happily melting against your leg, snout stuffed into your dress and dampening it with open mouthed, hot huffs. “He’s lovely.”

“Of course!” Monique shrugs with a prideful snort. “I trained ‘em.” she’s back to counting yesterday’s profit while comparing separate piles to the list of orders.

Once Bucky has melted into a satisfied puddle on the floor you’re left to awkwardly eye the place while mulling over what to say next or if you should at all. Without Cooper standing between you and the world, it became difficult to find your courage and be your own entity. You’d never been apart, you’d grown co-dependent and not only on his marvelous gunslinging but on his presence as a whole. Starting from him being your only means of familiarity and safety, to you clinging to him now as your single source of comfort. You relied on him for everything. If that bit of info had been obscured before, pushed to the back of your mind due to bigger problems needing solving, now it was blatantly obvious.

 The bartender was no danger, she was great albeit a little rough around the edges, and her pet being this friendly spoke more than words ever could. Still, a mental barrier prevented your voice from showing. You were mute and bolted to the stool until an event requiring a change happened.

“So you here to chat or can I getcha anything?”

Monique, the absolute angel of a woman, had finished up her daily counting of caps and was expectantly staring you down. You doubted she was aware of her kind act, but were grateful regardless because if she hadn’t spoken up you never would have, not for a while at least.

“Is there coffee?” you perk up at the offer, display the sweetest smile you can make up, and drown the dreary train of thought that had been on its way to ruin your day.

“Mitzie! Cup o’ coffee for Doe Eyes!” she leans back to holler at the kitchen door, then turns to you. “Ten caps.”

You had a nickname already, how quaint.

“Actually, can you put it on C –”

“– I’ll pay.” your second favorite ghoul steps out of the kitchen with a tray in hand and you were expecting her to be just as cheery as the previous night if not more, but she’s anything but. “You can make it up to me with a good chat, yeah?”

She’s looking at you with incomprehensible unease which sparks worry in your gut. There’s a weight to her movements, something fowl plaguing her that can’t be blamed on just lack of sleep, but by her droopy eyes, you can tell that’s also a factor.

“…Sure?” is all you manage before she sits beside you and pushes the steaming mug towards you.

“Ma, I’m sorry. Can you please serve breakfast for me? I’ll take over after this, just…” she doesn’t finish, the rest of the words between her and Monique are exchanged non-verbally and the stout woman flares up.

You expect her to say something by the way her jaw tightens and her beady eyes narrow, she doesn’t. Instead, she spares you a glance that lingers too long for it to be anything but disheartening and leaves. You follow her until she’s out of sight, made anxious by their queer exchange and vaguely acknowledging the unbearably scalding cup of coffee in your hands.

“Right…Before I say anything I want you to at least consider my words, okay?” there’s an urgency to her voice, she’s drumming her fingers over the counter, and her baby blues turned ghostly grey are glued to you to make sure your attention is solely centered on her. “This isn’t just me spouting shit to scare you off or stir trouble.”

It’s unnerving, Mitzie’s shift of character is turning your friendliness into apprehensiveness. You’d be empathetic to her perturbed state, but all emotion is overwhelmed by the incessant foreboding forming a lump in your throat.

“What?” you blurt while nervously tracing the edge of the cup. Shifting more comfortably into your stool, you lower until you’re nearly lying on the bar with ears strained and a whirring mind. “Mitzie, what’s going – ”

 “ – Promise me.”

There is nothing subtle about the way you’re etching closer to her, anyone with one good eye would spot the direness in your conversation. What you wished for was to know why there were such macabre undertones to her speech. A night had passed since you’d last seen each other. What could have possibly happened for her to look as though she was about to attend a funeral?

With the way she’s positioned, body directly facing you and her head slightly rolled to the side, she can easily switch from watching you to checking the entrance of the guesthouse. She does just that, gaze darting back and forth and waiting for something, anticipating. It’s nerve-wracking, makes your stomach coil.

What the hell is going on?

“I…Sure, okay. I promise.” you answer, obliging her in the hopes that it eases some of her worries. “What’s going on?”

She nudges you to drink before your coffee gets cold, then combats your question with her own.

“How long have you known Cooper?”

“Couple months…Why?” your best efforts to keep an even, soft tone fail and your reply comes out curt and snappy.

“What do you know about him?” she gives you no room to breathe, fires another inquiry even with your apparent skepticism towards the conversation.

The music and simmering liveliness are drowned out by the steadily increasing beat of your heart. Your surroundings fade, blocked from your peripherals until it’s only you, Mitzie and Bucky as he soundly snoozes in your feet. You envy him and his ignorance.

Her question does more damage than intended.

Truthfully, you know nothing of your short-tempered companion, you wouldn’t even know his name if it hadn’t been for the slip-up in Tillburry. You’d based his adamance of keeping you uninformed on his lack of trust, but by the incredulous way Mitzie had asked, you began doubting that excuse. You’d traversed enough land and shared countless nights huddled together, sharing a meal, sharing everything, watching each other’s backs. Surely by now, you’d earned the right to know at least his age, yet he’d revealed nothing to you. You light up the conniving musing with the scalding heat of your drink and let simmer away as you respond.

“I mean…Not much, but –”

“– Fucking typical…” she snarls, doesn’t let you finish, already knowing the answer, her gaunt features turn malignant, and the grimace she bears is bone-chilling. Mitzie checks the horizon beyond the freshly wiped windows, shifts uncomfortably, as if ladened by her uniform, and continues with urgency. “Listen to me, I know his words probably outweigh mine, I mean, we’re not really friends you and I. And you don’t have to believe me…but for your own sake I hope you do.”

She’s gesturing down with her hand, palms spread and visible to soothe your hastily dissipating patience. Your prickliness doesn’t wane and the more she tries to tame it while spouting gibberish the worse it gets. You cross both legs and arms, barricading your tumultuous heart from the trepidatious babbling and letting go of the politeness keeping the bubbling vulgar words out of your vocabulary.

To hell with manners and formalities if you were going to be interrogated without being given a reason why.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“He’s not a good man.” she whispers while cupping her mouth and it’s low, but with enough certainty for you to hear perfectly. “Cooper. He’s bad…real fucking bad.”

“You aren’t telling me anything new.” you shake your head with a series of blinks, unmoved. Her deciding to sit you down and work you up for a serious conversation to tell you this while Cooper is away instead of simplifying it to a passing comment while she’s working is more of a surprise than the information itself.

Was this fiasco truly about the bounty hunter’s moral compass? Really?

“You don’t get it…” she clasps a hand over her forehead with a pained expression and a groan, then lets it slide down to rub her eyes. “He doesn’t care about anybody. He sure as fuck doesn’t care about you. You just can’t see it yet.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?” you deflect with a half-frown. “I mean, sure. He’s not great, but he’s been patient with me, he’s a good friend. He’s kept me alive so far when he could have left me behind plenty of times.”

“Yeah? Good friend?” there’s mockery hanging off every word, then Mitzie pauses as if debating whether she should say more. For a moment she’s mournful, regretful that she’s burdened with ripping apart the delusion you’ve lived in thus far. “So did he tell you he has a family?”

The world stops, you falter.

“What?”

To behold a human break from the utterance of so few words is a sad imagery.

“Told me one night when he was high off his ass.” her words cut deep, slice through your cool demeanor until you’re left bare before the raw turmoil that beats you down until you’re physically doubling over. She grips your hand as a reminder that she’s still there and not hurting you out of spite. “A daughter and a wife. He’s looking for them, Honeybee. He isn’t making friends with you, he’s using you.”

You look at her hand over yours. It reminds you of his.

“That’s not…”

Unlike her who is high on alert and jumping at every creak or shuffle, you’re far away. Ripped out of your body as her truths knock on your skull and try to sink it, you’re scrambling to regain feeling in your legs, fighting to remember how to move your lips to form a coherent sentence. Heat rises from the bowels of your stomach to the peak of your neck, nips at your ears until you’re conscious of their existence, and submerged in an almost deafening screeching.

“His daughter’s name is Janey. Ask em yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Searing pinches assault your scalp, you scratch them away, but more appear and you’re left pulling at fistfuls of hair to ease some of the pulsing tension rendering your vision doubled. You have to grip the counter before you tumble off the chair, any sign of balance or proper motor function is gone, overshadowed by that screaming that’s tormenting your hearing and making your teeth ache.

A daughter…a wife…

You’d had your tongue ravaging the mouth of someone’s husband. What the actual fuck. You would have let him take you if he’d so wished.

Cooper falls in your eyes then, his pedestal – desecrated, his value – diminished. You hoped the love would die, that your affection would flee just as fast as the shame had settled. But it doesn’t, he’d made damn sure you’d stay a loyal bitch, had worked your cogs from the start until you were enamored.

You felt disgusting, wanted to crawl out of your skin.

“Mitzie…” sullen, destroyed, humiliated, still you defend him, still you fight against the stinging reality that burrows into your flesh and writhes until you’re close to hurling. Still, you try to keep the halo above his head from completely cracking while gathering the pieces of your scattered mind, alone, of course, because you know he’d never do what you do for him. “That’s none of my business, neither yours.”

Preserving his reputation while yours crumbles away, pathetic. Have you no self-respect? No. Not when it comes to him.

“Yes it is!” she exclaims, spills too much too brashly in her frustration. “I saw you through the keyhole…last night.”

Her vigor fades at the repulsion plastered on your face. You rip away from her, refusing all contact except that of your hardened eyes burning into hers for answers.

“You were spying on us?”

The bridge she’d built between you was burnt, the gates to your impressionable mind shut before her. The trust she’d earned was stomped and left to rot. That single jumble of a confession thrown in the hopes of convincing you further tore apart any ounce of tolerance you had left.

With a slack jaw, she watches your lids close over guttural anguish and your mouth twitch into a thin line as you hold back the bitter betrayal from surfacing.

“Enough…”

Your voice is unrecognizable.

Fuck her. Fuck him! Fuck everything…

You should have never stopped at this damnable place.

“Wait…Wait, please, wait, wait, wait.” she clings to your arm before you’ve walked too far, baby blues dashing around random spots in search of a proper expression. “I was scared for you.” she confesses over hoarseness due to either a dry throat or uncontrollable emotions. She’s shaking you, desperate to make you understand and giving no fucks about how stupid the pair of you look or how much attention she draws. “You can’t trust him, please listen to me! He’s leading you to slaughter!���

“I don’t trust rats.”

Glistening with stifled tears at the absolute hatred in your snarl, Mitzie loosens her hold and her head dips. Too kind to push her away and leave, too hurt to accept her accusations as the truth, you’re stuck in a limbo of numbness and hollow pain. You’d urge her to cry if she’s so riled up, would have lent a shoulder and cried with her. But there is only so much a person can take.

Blow after blow, you’re left too stunted to express anything despite everything inside you twisting.

“There’s…a place.” she murmurs while tugging you to the stairs where shadows reign to hide both of you from curious onlookers and save you the trouble. “It’s half a day away from here. Super Duper Mart. It’s…It’s an organ harvesting business.”

“I’m not…Get to the fucking point.” you command, but your tone wavers and your mouth shuts before an unsolicited sob escapes.

“Please, let me go…Please…I can’t anymore…”

“Ghouls need a certain substance to stay sane. All of us do. Super Duper Mart sells it. Usually, we sell a kidney to get a few vials, it grows back in a day or two. Or a ton of caps, but not a lot of people can afford that.” she swallows something vile, and rearranges her next words in a way that doesn’t outright spit at everything you’ve known to be your existence so far, your false reality. “Or, we sell someone else’s organs.”

You shudder, lean against the railing before your knees give out, and suck in a shaky breath as the ice licks your spine raw.

“Please don’t…”

“Let me live a lie. Let me die happy.”

“He only stops here when he’s going there.”

“Mitzie.” your warning falls on deaf ears.

“You’re a product, not a person.” she chokes you with harsh facts, steers the reins of your sanity towards a meltdown and it doesn’t take long for your mouth to drip with blood from biting open wounds into your bottom lip. “Not to him.” she catches you when you wobble, blows at your face because you’ve turned ghostly pale. “You need to get the hell out of whatever shit he’s gotten you into. Leave before it’s too late.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to go? I don’t know shit about surviving alone…I depend on him for everything.” you croak and taste bile on your tongue.

“You could stay here…” she mumbles, salving over the gashes she caused. “Could always use another pair of hands, if you’re willing to pay for your supper in labor.” she pats your head, brushes the hair to expose dead eyes staring right through her, but that doesn’t stop her from playing hero. “I talked with ma already, and Cooper isn’t stupid, he wouldn’t pull a gun here. Just tell him you don’t wanna travel with him anymore when he’s back. Or I can do it, I don’t mind.” she’s so kind, a sweet deformed woman, a sisterly guide trying to save you from the jaws of the reaper. “You have a choice. You have a chance. Please…”

But you don’t want her. You want him.

You wave a deathly calm hand and draw an end to her verbal molestation. Whisked away by the last burst of energy available, your back greets her as you ascend the stairs, leave her and everything she’s thrown at you behind. Trapped into the premises of your head, you forget speech and hearing as she meagerly calls to you for an answer.

Uncaring for your mental limitations as she is, Mitzie doesn’t pursue. Maybe it’s best you contemplate your next actions in solitude.

Tear-stained vision leads you to the safety of your room before you crumble to the floor, looming over the toilet as you lurch spit and air. You wish to be rid of this entire experience, throw up everything you’ve heard and said.

Nothing comes out.

The ringing subsides along with all worldly sensations just a moment later as you lie limp inside the bathroom with eyes rolled into the back of your head. Darkness has consumed both thought and feeling, lulling you into still nothingness. Steady breaths cast a sheet of vapor over the cool tiles.

Woe is you, weak, pathetic thing, dreaming of adventure and independence, freedom and love. Here is your independence now, your freedom, your love, your pleas were answered. Take them. You’ve wanted them for so long… Take them now.

It’s the scratching that pulls you out of unconsciousness. Fingers twitch to life first, then your senses return albeit groggy and dull. You’ve no interest in company, but the single needy whine amidst the determined scraping makes you overturn that decision.

With no recollection of when you’d fainted or for how long, you’re whimpering and nurturing a heavy migraine.

Bucky, your savior, lets himself in happily when you manage to crawl to the door and open it. The mere sight of him, so glad to see you again and wagging that stump of a tail, draws the last straw of your composure. You claw at him until he’s sitting between your legs, resting a slobbering snout against your shoulder as you weep into his thick neck, possessed by ugly sobs that shake your entire being.

He snaps his jaws a few times, a gentle brute, as you hug him close and suffocate in despair and loathing until you’re spent. He stays with you when you stand on wonky feet and pop a Rad-X before taking a shower that lasts long enough to count for two. Ever loyal and eager, you bathe him as well while he tries to bite the water current.

A clean boy, the goodest of boys, the crutch to your broken self. He licks the droplets off your calves as you let your dress dry you off and don’t bother to towel your hair.

Nobody told you drinking on an empty stomach is a death sentence, but you’re desperate to quiet down your wounded soul and racing imagination so the outcome would have been the same. The bourbon is sweet against your throat, doesn’t burn one but this time and Bucky is a warm, soft pillow to your floating head once it becomes too heavy for your shoulders to bear. Tucked into the couch and comforted by nasal puffs as your companion drifts in and out of sleep, you’re too exhausted to keep crying but the dry, infrequent sobs persist.

An eternity passes before the dog’s ears perk up and you’re woefully unprepared for the discussion that is to come.

The light from the corridor is blinding. The ghoul is standing at the door, a dark silhouette whose shadow stretches far into the room and almost reaches you. A hand comes up to shield your eyes as you groan.

“Well, well, well.” he sneers and switches the lamp on for you to see the demeaning smirk. His expression as a whole is not kind, Bucky, the wonderful boy, is currently in his spot and Cooper isn’t one for sharing. “See you’ve replaced me already.” he gestures towards the exit, holding the door open, and spits a harsh command. “Get!”

You don’t want to be left alone with this man, preferring to leave along with the dog and it shows by the anxiety burdening your features. The alcohol lingers still, makes your limbs feel like stone as you sit up and rub at your reddened, puffy lids.

Your pulse is already picking up speed when he slumps in the chair opposite to you and lights a cigarette before tilting his head back. The question is readied on the tip of your tongue and you’re irritated because it’s so damnably difficult to voice it. You press an attentive hand to your neck to encourage something to come out while the other sinks into your thigh until the flesh changes color.

“Are you gonna sell me, Mister?” you shoot in between plans on how to approach the matter and let loose a curt breath, relieved that it’s out of your system.

The casual swaying of his knee stops.

He straightens up, abandoning his nonchalant posture to give you a good once-over with the smoke secured between his lips.

You’re an unmistakably macabre sight even under the weak glare of the dying lightbulb. Bloodshot orbs nestled into a saggy face, sucked-in lips framing a ghost of a frown, he couldn’t see how contorted your body was from behind the table, but by the hung shoulders and lowered neck it’s obvious the rest of you isn’t pretty.

There’s a great amount of bourbon missing when he decides to pour himself a glass midway through his examination.

But all those factors can’t compete with the title you’d used to address him.

Mister.

You hadn’t used that since you’d learned his name and it was the first red flag he’d picked up, a warning that something was terribly amiss, that something vital had occurred while he’d been gone and now it’s his turn to have a taste of it.

“I’ve entertained the thought.” he scoffs through a meager smirk. You give him a look that washes away all hues of jokingness, the tiny hint of concern he displays would have been comforting, but you’ve been disturbed to where his crumbs of affection are useless. His hat is tipped to one side, guarding his shifting expression as he asks: “Was goin’ on, Darlin’?”

You want to scream. Yell all that you’ve been told and beg him to assure you none of it is true because, for God’s sake, he’d kissed you the night before and now you know he has a family waiting for him somewhere. You want Mitzie to be the villain who’s causing mischief for the sake of it because he’s your hero and he’s supposed to save the day. Deep down, you know your wishes will go unanswered and maybe that’s why you don’t completely break down before him.

He doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve anything.

“Are you going to sell me?” you repeat with more force and less uncertainty, fueling yourself with enough malice to keep you from backing out of the confrontation. You won’t falter, you refuse.

“Who you been talkin’ to?”

He’s evasive and it’s tugging at your nerves. Despite your desperation for answers, you decide to at least respond properly, you’re weakhearted unlike him, you’re prone to show sympathy.

“Mitzie.” a hand comes up to rub away the goosebumps on your upper arm and your gaze steers away from his. You’re not keen on putting Mitzie in the spotlight, but you’d rather be truthful, maybe it will push him towards reciprocating. Guilt sprouts in your chest before you curtly remind yourself that you’re not the bad guy here. “She told me a few things…”

His apprehensive visage turns vicious, lanky limbs become taut, and his clothes squeak in strain as he settles into a less open posture. If he’d had any intent on taking down walls to let you in, it had died by the utterance of that name. His lips are pulled back in a nasty snarl.

“Should’a stuffed a bullet down ‘er throat long time ago.”

It’s an insult to you and your intelligence, he’s painted you as gullible while dismissing Mitzie’s credibility without even giving a reason. He doesn’t need to defend his stance, either you believe him or you don’t and you have for the longest time, but when so much information has been thrown at your face regarding him and he can’t even refute the claims, you’re left second-guessing.

“You’d rather kill her than answer my question?” you’re revolted at his savage revelation and it shows in the twisted way your tone lowers. But you're empathetic even to the undeserving and watching him lash out like a cornered animal causes you to soften. “You know I’d trust your word over anyone else’s.” your attempt at reaching past the acidic, gruff exterior he’s hidden behind fails, he’s not interested in being vulnerable or deepening your bond, he’d rather stay a feral simpleton. Another insult, another stab at what you’d thought was a connection in the making. You swallow through a tight gullet, pained beyond belief. “You’re despicable.”

“Watch yer mouth, Missy.” he spits back.

He dares to scold you when he’s in the center of the dilemma. He demands respect when he’s the cause of the anguish poisoning your once hallowed spirit. He’s the problem and he has the audacity to treat you like a misbehaving child.

Angry tears weigh on your lashes, you grit your teeth to strangle a sob that threatens to rob you of all the authority and composure you’ve built.

“You never answered my question.”

The lamp flickers in an ominous prediction of his next words.

“And what if I do?” detached, cold; not a human, but a creature made of melted skin and unfathomable disregard for other beings speaks to you. A spiteful, ugly man who you’d grown to cherish so passionately is throwing bile at you because he’s not the misunderstood morally grey Superman you’d hoped for, he’s just a pile of shit and the best you could do is walk away. He’s terrible and he lets you know by continuing to belittle you and all the love you’d shown him. “Gonna snap outta your teenage dotin’ ‘nd see me the way I am?” with a cruel smile, he shrugs. “Told you I’m rotten, Sweetheart. Didn’t listen, did ya?”

You don’t regret what slips off your tongue next.

He deserves all the despair you’ve felt, the betrayal. You’ve long since drowned in hopelessness, submerged in scenarios of how you’ll go on without him as chances were – he’d probably leave after all this, his persona was unmasked, he had no reason to stick around anymore. He should at least be ashamed of his actions, but to do that one needs to have a conscience and so far he’s not shown signs of any.

You don’t mean to stoop to his level, but his ridicule is just that contagious.

“Janey?” a palpable pause, so thick with dread. You don’t leave it there; you plunge the knife deeper. “Is that really your daughter’s name?”

He’s on you in an instant.

Having lunged out of his chair, he’s squeezing your throat so ferociously you choke. He’s ready to kill and by the way his pupils shrink, he just might.

Demonic above you, forcing you down onto the sofa, he looks like he’ll rip you apart.

“Never say that name again. Ever!”

He’s a nightmare. His devastating grimace will forever stay burned into your memory. But for once you’re ready to fight back and you do so with vigorous hatred.

“Don’t touch me you fucking freak!”

You manage to slide your knees between your bodies and kick him with all your might. For the first time, your actions have an effect, he stumbles back, nearly knocks the table over. You’d thrown him off with such force it surprises both of you. Delicate things can also be fierce. But were you delicate? Not anymore, not like before. The wasteland had taken its toll on you, he had as well. Stripping you of all your beauty, now you were just like the rest of them – cruel, gross, burdened, haunted.

“Don’t ever touch me you manipulative, disgusting, vile – ” you jut a shaky finger at him, longing to berate him all night, but your voice cracks and you shut your mouth as if he hadn’t already seen how shattered you are.

You suck in a tattered breath and stand. The barrel of his pistol points at you as you lean closer, he cocks it without hesitation, but you don’t flinch, instead grabbing for the matches and box of cigarettes he’d left next to his now spilled drink. Maneuvering sluggishly, you sit on the windowsill, facing away as he audibly plops back in the chair and slams his glass into the table before pouring another batch of bourbon. Like drowning in alcohol could fix all this shit…

Typical for him, you’re not surprised.

Never in your life have you lit a match, but you’d rather waste his entire box than ask him for help. You pinch a smoke between your lips, your first and hopefully last, strike the match and it flares to life.

Bitter and chalky, leaves your tongue dry and your head light, a physical manifestation of death, you like the taste and the suffocating fumes that circle your nose despite the open window. You’re supposed to cough and recoil, throw it away because it’s suicide wrapped in paper, instead, you look back and toss the two little boxes to their owner, hoping to hit him.

The night is cold, the chill is pleasant against your skin, it sweeps away a part of the haze you’d been engrossed in during the day.

“You never told me you had a family.” it’s more of a shared thought than a statement; you stare up at the sky, dangling one bare foot into the air until the steady breeze numbs your toes. “Never told me you were looking for them.” your battle zest dissipates as you continue mumbling out the decrepit sorrowful melody of your heart. “Never told me fucking anything…”

“My family ain’t none o’ your concern.” comes a hiss from behind you to deter your scornful moping. You scoff at that, shake your head at your stupid, unwavering faith in him rather than his reply.

You’re still trying to find a spec of goodness after all this, it’s laughable.

“I thought we were friends…or…or partners.” you toss the cigarette bud when the flame scalds your fingers, let the smoke exit your lungs through a heave. “You’re supposed to share with me!” hands obscure your face from the world as you suffer through a few sobs and swallow mouthfuls of tears. “I care for you so much…I’d do anything for you. But you’re just – ”

He’s cruel though, whether screaming and kicking or on your knees crying, it makes no difference to him. He doesn’t care. Did he ever?

“We ain’t no friends.” he states it as the fact it is. “We ain’t nothin’.”

“You’re right…” you nod, giggle even as you wipe your cheeks dry. “Friends don’t sell each other for organ harvesting.”

You never heard the new batch of vials clinking in his coat pocket, didn’t see the freshly stitched scar in the middle of his back, where his kidney used to be. How were you supposed to know when he never told you anything?

So it comes as a surprise when he throws the spare glass and it shatters next to your head and makes you wince. His sudden burst of anger is a mystery and it’s his own fault.

For once he’d been good, for once he’d put someone else before himself and this is what he got.

 “You know what’s really pathetic?” you let go of a bitter laugh, wet and putrid, but it’s shortlived, you return to curling up and mumbling because he doesn’t deserve to know how precious he is to you, but you want to let it all out and be done with this. “The only reason why I’d be sad if you sold me is that I’d be away from you.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say that…”

A blip of something other than rage or mock, but he’s too late to the party. You’ve already dedicated to demolishing all that he’s poisoned with his touch, all his self-control and stoicism.

“I’d rather die by your hand than be taken away.” you glimpse down at the shards scattered next to your thigh to find your reflection in much the same state - broken. “I’m a coward, I guess. I never wanted this life…but I’m too scared to end it myself.”

Crack

Crack

The glass shatters in his hand, the only reminder left of the paradise from the night before, he’d broken both of them, first yours, then his. The pieces spread, deftly falling to the floor as the bourbon drips from the edge of the table.

 “Good night, Mister.”

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 10 >>>

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