#Elephant in the black box

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

believe for the word thingy

Thank you! From a WIP where Roy and Jamie spend the night together roaming around Copenhagen ala Amsterdam but when they get in the bus the next day Jamie has a black eye. No one believes Roy that he didn't do it.

Keeley Jones: What the fuck Roy? Did you really punch Jamie? Roy couldn’t believe Keeley of all people would think he would do this. Keeley Jones: I can’t believe you would do that again.  Again.  Oh. 

It hadn’t been that long ago that he knocked on Keeley’s door with Jamie still bleeding from his nose.  Fuck.  No wonder the team believed this was something Roy was capable of. But he had changed. Hadn’t he?

And for the sprint I added 315 words!

“We need to talk,” Isaac said seriously.  “Fuck, not you too. Isaac, I didn’t hit him.” “He’s got a black eye.” “I know that,” Roy sighed. “But I didn’t do it.” “Coach, we let you tie our dick’s together, yeah? But Jamie can’t be your literal punching bag.”

[mrmushroom1031]

I have this lobster that I won at a white elephant gift exchange last year and I named him Gerry and after listening to The Magnus Archives I can't see him the same w/o thinking of Gerard

[wildbeautifuldamned]

Rare Original 1920s Schoenhut Humpty Dumpty Circus Figure Box … MUST SEE!!! ebay childhoodthings

[lightseoul]

you're losing me

synopsis. bakugou proposes to you. you give him an unexpected response.

cw. gn!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged up (28 yrs old), some cussing

word count. 2.5k words

“Where is everybody?”

You ask as you look around the barren restaurant, which, on most days, is jampacked with high-profile customers. How Bakugou was able to get you both a table is beyond you.

“Don’t mind ‘em,” he says before dipping down to finish the rest of his soup. “They’re just a bunch of extras anyway.”

You merely hum in response.

A moment passes with the both of you finishing your appetizers when a question dawns on you.

“By the way,” you start, “what’s the occasion, Kats?”

At that, he frowns. “What, you’re saying I can’t treat my partner whenever I feel like it?”

You snort. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that we don’t usually opt for extremely overpriced restaurants.”

You gesture to your evening gown and his suit. “We don’t usually dress up either.”

“Yeah, well. Just go with it, okay?”

You stare at him for a beat before deciding to let it go.

“Okay.”

You’re down to the last bite of your dessert when Bakugou clears his throat. You look up, only to be met with the familiar expression of nervousness decorating his features.

It’s how he looked at you back when he first asked you out three years ago.

“You alright?” you ask.

He nods, “Peachy. Just need to tell you something.”

Almost instantaneously, your heart picks up its pace. You brace yourself for bad news.

“What is it?”

At your query, Bakugou suddenly stands up and circles your table, stopping right in front of you.

And before you could even comprehend what’s happening, he’s already on one knee, holding a small velvet box.

“Y/N.”

At the mention of your name, your heart doubles up its pace.

He continues, but your head is pulsing and your ears throbbing so loudly that you can barely make out the speech he’s currently giving you. You feel lightheaded, as well as the tears welling up in your eyes, clouding your vision.

He sounds uncharacteristically shy when he finally says, “Will you marry me?”

That’s the last thing you hear before you black out.

You’re met with a blinding white light when you come to.

You strain to sit up in order to look around, the movement causing Bakugou, who is on a stool beside your bed, to stir awake.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Take it easy.”

Robbed of all words, you nod, taking heed and slowly lifting yourself up into a seated position.

“Where am I?” you ask.

“The nearest hospital from the restaurant,” he explains. “You fainted.”

“Seriously?”

He nods, face stern. “Thankfully I was able to catch you before your head could hit the ground. We just need to run a few more tests before you get cleared for discharge.”

And with that, the elephant in the room remains as evident as ever.

“Look, Kats,” you start, “about earlier—”

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” he cuts you off. “Come on, let’s get you ready for discharge.”

You barely catch him before he goes to work the next day.

Bakugou’s not a morning person—you found out about that a week into dating him when you noticed how curt his messages were in the mornings—yet he’s now up at 6:24 AM, darting in and out of the rooms in your shared apartment, getting ready for the day.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s rushing to leave.

“You’re awake,” you say lamely as you enter the living room.

He grunts in response, attention directed to the duffel bag he always brings to the office on patrol days.

You want to ask him why he’s up this early, but ultimately decide against it. Instead, you say: “Did you pack your lunch already?”

“Yeah,” he gestures to his bag, “It’s in here.”

“Okay.”

You stand awkwardly by the door as you watch him zip his bag and adjust his civilian clothes that would be swapped in for his winter costume later.

He then walks up to you and presses a kiss on your forehead—so tentatively it makes you ache.

Since when did he get so hesitant with you?

“I’ll go then,” he announces.

And before you know it, the front door shuts, his perfume leaving a nostalgic fragrance in its trail.

Only then do you realize that I love you’s were not exchanged.

The days after are unremarkably the same.

He’s been getting up extra early so that by the time you wake up, he’s already on his way to the agency.

On top of that, he’s starting to work overtime now, too.

Lately, he’s been arriving home as late as almost midnight.

You try to wait up for him—you really do—but with your own work to get to the following mornings, you just couldn’t sustain that arrangement.

And so you rarely see him.

But to your relief, despite everything that’s gone wrong with Bakugou since the night he proposed, you still fall on the same bed at the end of the day.

Albeit his back is turned against you. Still, you’re grateful. There’s a certain comfort that blankets you whenever you’re near Bakugou, and that hasn’t changed one bit.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you mirror him, your back now facing his.

Which is why you don’t notice it until you hear a gasp.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look at Bakugou, who’s now sitting upright, chest heaving.

Quickly, you rouse yourself, facing him. “What’s wrong?”

He inhales deeply as his eyes dart towards you, beads of sweat now decorating his forehead.

“Nightmare,” he croaks.

At that, you grab his ice-cold hands, squeezing them in yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A beat passes before he reluctantly shakes his head. “It’s just the usual.”

The usual. Being held hostage by that monster, getting kidnapped, being responsible for All Might’s—

“It doesn’t matter if it’s new or not,” you retort, squeezing his hands again in an attempt to anchor him to reality. “I’m here to listen, alright?”

Bakugou hesitates for a second before nodding, a pained expression written across his face.

He starts to lean in closer, probably to drop his head at the crook of your neck like he usually does when plagued with nightmares, before hesitating and leaning back.

“Okay.”

The next morning, you wake up not only to an empty bed, but an empty house.

Still half asleep, you trudge your way toward the kitchen, where a bento box is sitting on the island. On top of it is a sticky note that reads:

Going out w the guys after shift. Don’t wait up.

Your heart sinks at the thought of not being able to see Bakugou for the day.

Still, maybe he needs this night out.

You wouldn’t want to spend time with the person who rejected you either.

With a heavy heart, you get ready for the day yourself.

Work is the least of your concerns this morning, but you figure you have to go. You could use some distraction to take your mind off your crumbling relationship.

You’re in your bed reading that non-fiction you’ve been putting off for a while now when your phone rings.

You reach for your phone, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Kirishima’s caller ID.

Huh.

You press the green button after a few seconds of letting it ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N!” a cheery voice greets you. “This is Kirishima.”

“Hey, Ei,” you start, weirdly nervous. “How are you and the rest of the squad?”

“Actually, that’s why I called you. Can you pick Bakugou up? He’s so drunk.”

Your Katsuki? Drunk?

For some reason, the idea of talking to a drunk Bakugou, who also happens to be the bluntest version of himself, elicits an unpleasant feeling in your gut.

“Really?” you ask, voice small. “How much did he drink?”

“Not a lot, but the alcohol percentage of the ones he downed are pretty high.”

When you don’t respond for a while, he pipes up with: “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Kirishima sounds unsure when he asks, “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yes, Ei.” No, Ei. I inadvertently rejected his marriage proposal.

“Okay, that’s good to hear,” he starts. “It’s just that he barely mentioned you when he was still sober—which is a rare occurrence, if you only knew. He only started calling for you when he was three glasses in.”

Despite yourself, your stomach flips in delight. He’s still thinking about me, you think to yourself.

“Anyway, as I was saying, are you good to fetch him?”

“Yes,” you stand up and grab for your keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

You’re situating the car in your designated parking space when Bakugou finally stirs awake.

Once you’re parked, you turn off the engine before you reach over the console to unfasten his seatbelt. Yours follows shortly after.

You look at him, whose eyes are still closed.

“We’re here, Kats.”

At the sound of your voice, his eyes shoot open and he examines his environment, alarmed. Once he catches sight of you, though, he visibly relaxes.

Only to straighten up in his seat, stiff and unable to look you in the eye.

“You didn’t have to, uh,” he stammers, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. “Get me. You didn’t have to get me.”

You shoot him a small smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, eyes trained on your car’s windshield.

A moment passes before he speaks again.

“My mom made me do it, you know.”

You stare at his side profile. “Made you do what?”

“Propose to you.”

“Oh.”

He shakes his head, almost in disagreement. “The old hag really wants me to get married. I told her we didn’t have to get married because we’re happy the way things are and that shit is just for formality. Told me I’d be missing out on you wearing a wedding dress.”

You snort, “That’s what convinced you to ask me?”

He grins. “Nah. I just realized I wanted to get married if it was to you.”

Before you can even react, Bakugou shifts in his seat, breaking eye contact.

“It was stupid of me, though.”

Your stomach drops in anticipatory dread. “Stupid of you to what?”

He chuckles, although he seems anything but happy. “Was stupid of me to think someone like you would say yes to someone like me.

“I—” he stutters, “I wouldn’t marry me either.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs, “Just…who the fuck do I think am, proposing to you? I was a horrible person who fucked things up so many times growing up. Maybe this is karma biting me back in the ass.”

“Katsuki.”

“You can do way be—”

“Katsuki!”

He jerks his head to face you, bewildered and eyes glassy.

You reach over the console to hold his scarred hand, staring him down.

“Look at me.”

He does so.

“You’re not that person anymore, alright?” You squeeze his hand, “Please don’t do this to yourself.”

Under the intensity of your gaze, Bakugou can only nod in affirmation before you engulf him in your first hug in what feels like weeks.

“Come on,” you say when you finally part, “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Bakugou sleeps like a baby by your side that night. Meanwhile, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

He thinks you don’t want to marry him.

Your heart aches at the very thought of him grappling with the most false of all statements.

You want to marry him, you really do, but all your fears suddenly rose to the surface and enveloped you the second he went on one knee.

And that’s what you’re planning to confess to him tonight.

You wait, wrapped in the thickest jacket you own, seated on the bench for Bakugou to come. You left him a note alongside his bento box earlier this morning—a note that says to meet you at the indicated address.

Lost in your thoughts and in your internal monologue, you startle when somebody sits next to you.

You look to your right, only to see Bakugou in his thickest jacket, a gray beanie covering his ash blonde locks, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Do you remember this place?” you ask, voice quiet.

He scoffs, “Of course I do, dumbass.”

At that, you chuckle. “This is where we had our first date.”

He grunts in agreement. He doesn’t say anything after that.

A few seconds pass before he finally pipes up with: “So why did you bring me here?”

Your heart’s pace quickens at the query.

You gulp, although your voice still ends up shaky. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

You shake your head, “You don’t understand.”

He chuckles, that same one that translates to anything but happiness. “I think I do. You don’t want to marry me, I get it.”

“No,” you say, voice louder. “I want to marry you.”

At your admission, Bakugou turns to look you in the eye. The hopeful expression on his face is staggering, you want to curl up into a ball and cry. “What?”

“I said,” you repeat, “I want to marry you.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Then why have you been acting like you don’t?”

At his question, you can’t help but clench your eyes closed. This is too much, you think to yourself, but you owe Bakugou the truth.

“I’m just scared, Kats. Truly. I—” you stammer, “I just can’t shake off the fear of losing you one day. And I know your capabilities and I know how hard you work. Just that—I don’t know. The fear of seeing you killed one day is paralyzing.”

Bakugou reaches out to you, and you let him wipe away the tears that are now falling down your cheeks.

“I’m scared, too,” he offers. “But I don’t know.”

He shakes his head, “I’m more scared of not being with you.”

At his confession, you can’t help but smile. “I think that’s how I feel, too.”

You rest your head on Bakugou’s shoulder, your hand in his. You stay like that for a few minutes before you pull away and turn to regard him again.

“Can we start over?” you ask, “I want to propose to you soon.”

Bakugou smirks, nothing but elation on his face. He takes your other hand and squeezes it.

“Not if I propose to you first.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

as always, reblogs, comments, and tags are appreciated <3

[aunt-bridget]

Night In With Aunt Bridget

It was a pleasant evening with Aunt Bridget. A few drinks with her favourite nephew and an opportunity to relax for the weekend. They laughed and joked and she sat, crossing those long, booted legs…..something that her nephew was paying close attention to.

The nephew adored his Aunt. She was the younger and glamorous sister of his frumpy, strict mother. Her dress sense was sexy and very appealing to a young man. He stirred uneasily as Aunt Bridget once again crossed her legs. She noticed his discomfort as she sipped her wine…..he in turn took a massive gulp of his drink as she asked him what the matter was.

He blurted it all out. The sissy fantasy he harboured since being a teen. The desire to wear lovely clothes, be made up and to shamefully be forced into sissy bondage and whoring. Too much drink had loosened the boy’s tongue and Aunt Bridget nodded sympathetically. You see, she knew all about his little habits. Many previous visits resulted in her panty drawer being disturbed, her shoe collection had also been touched. Her special dress up box was left open, with her range of wigs obviously taken out. Aunt Bridget loved to play all manner of games with her gentlemen friends and her wardrobe reflected those fancies.

With the nephew looking slightly dazed at how he confessed so readily, Aunt Bridget rested a perfectly manicured hand on his knee and told him to come upstairs with her. They entered her bedroom and she flung the wardrobe door open along with her panty and nylon drawer. She commanded him to pick an outfit, some underwear, heels and a wig of choice. With a trembling hand, he selected a mustard yellow sweater, short black skirt, patent heels and dark shiny nylons. She ordered him to pull on the nylons first as she knew the feeling against him would be heaven, and she was right as he then put on the pink panties he knew so well, with the strawberry blonde wig finally placed on his head.

Aunt Bridget smiled and with some help, he had an impressive rack stuffed under the sweater to go along with the rest of the ensemble. The makeup was applied and little sissy nephew was seated in front of the dressing table mirror hypnotised by his reflection.

But things weren’t going to end there were they? The bondage fantasy was now the true elephant in the room…..and dearest Aunty revealed the box hidden at the bottom of the wardrobe. Nephew had always been very curious, but the container was always locked. Aunt Bridget went to her jewellery box and found the key, slipping it into the lock and lifting the lid. The box was a haven of bondage equipment….gags, cuffs, rope, bandage wrap and tape. There were other things in there that her innocent nephew wasn’t sure of, but they would be explained soon enough.

The rope was expertly applied around his torso and legs. To nephew’s shame, his cock was bulging through the pink panties and Aunty hitched the skirt up to confirm her suspicions. She felt the offending lump and he had leaked a little through the nylons and panties. She tutted as she pulled her own panties off and balled them up. He opened his mouth without any prompting and she placed her warm, moist underwear behind his slutty red lips. The red bandage was wrapped tightly to seal the gag in place and he moaned softly, struggling against the ropes and trying to dry hump Aunty’s booted legs. Another tut was his reward as Aunt Bridget sat down on the bed and retrieved her phone.

She snapped a few pics of sissy nephew and told him that his fantasy would be a reality tonight. Aunty knew some friends who loved their games too….a charming couple who were very open minded. She made nephew watch as she sent the photos to her friends and the resulting replies. He whined at the thought of being seen like this and who knows what else. He stared down at his stiffening cock, betrayed by the thought of being a used sissy.

Aunty gently kissed his gagged mouth and produced a gleaming steel chastity cage. It seems she was more than used to dealing with these situations and she shushed the wretched slut as she called her sister. Apparently, sweet nephew will be staying over tonight.

So don’t wait up, Mother.

[garciaasfluffypen]

take care of me (like i take care of you) pt. 2

pairing: jemily x adhd!reader word count: 2.3k warnings: reader’s kinda bratty in this one! reader is confused as to why being bratty is making them feel tingly but they like it so they keep doing it, softdom!jj begins to make an appearance, color system usage, the origin of jj refusing to be called mommy (she has a moment™️)

a/n: hi besties!! i wrote this on my phone because i can’t find my laptop charger so please excuse any sort of typos you find! thats also why the beginning of this post currently isn’t formatted like the other ones but soon as i can charge my laptop i’ll be fixing it. there will be a part three to this! i had to find a good place to end or else this would have been a beast to read lol.

ps. when i wrote this i was 100% imagining white tank top!jj and emily in the burgundy lululemon looking sweatshirt from the episode where they’re building the crib for kristy and matt ;)

you couldn’t contain your excitement as you basically tripped over your feet to run up to jj’s audi, jumping up and down in your seat as you waited for your girlfriends to join you. it was five minutes past nine and everyone was ready so naturally you ran to the car. you had been ready for two hours, but that was only because you had gotten up so early. you had everything you could possibly need in your little cross shoulder body bag and had to stop yourself from biting your fingernails to the quip in pure excitement as you waited. emily came out first, slipping you your preferred chewy necklace that was easy to hide under your shirt. as soon as the chewy end of it entered your mouth, emily’s hands reached around you and wrapped the black string around your neck. without realizing it you naturally leaned into her touch, pulling her hand toward your cheek as you fidgeted with the hem of your shirt while you stared at the door leading inside the kitchen. jj came out a few minutes later, her to-go cup of coffee tucked neatly away in the crook of her arm as she started to pull up the directions to the zoo.

jj slid into the drivers seat with ease, smiling at you as she saw the way you were sitting. she grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze before placing your phone in it, chuckling lightly at the layer of blush that ended up on your cheeks as you sheepishly took it from her. your block blast game was still up on the screen as you left it on the bathroom counter when you started doing your makeup. jj started the car and reversed out the driveway, leaving you to become reimmersed in your game. before you knew it you could just start see the sign for the zoo on the water tower peeking over the houses in the distance, meaning you were just about ten minutes away.

“lovey, besides seeing the giraffes, is there anything you want to do today?”

“um… i haven’t seen the elephants in a long time.” you paused, thinking. “and also the lions, i want to see the lions too.”

“do you think we could fit in a visit to the lemurs?” jj shot a glance to you. “i quite like lemurs.”

you nodded. “we can definitely see the lemurs.”

you made a mental note to yourself that jj liked lemurs, adding it to the little box that you had in your brain with facts about your girlfriends. it was mainly filled with silly little facts that most people wouldn’t normally pay attention to, like the fact emily writes in print script or that jj only eats salt and vinegar chips when she’s high. sure, there were the obvious facts that almost everyone on the team knew, but there were ones that were just your facts. and you wanted to keep them that way.

despite being a fully grown adult, you knew deep down that things like this were needed to help heal your inner child. you didn’t have the best childhood, but you were doing your best to fix it now. you bounced anxiously on the balls of your feet as you waited for the train to take you to the back of the zoo, the wind blowing your hair all around your face as you waited. jj silently pulled you toward her and helped you pull your hair back, putting it in a single braid for you.

by the time you got to the giraffe exhibit you could barely contain your excitement, your hands balling into fits and promptly unballing themselves as you tried to combat the need to stim. your arms stiffened as you tried to hold back your energy, shaking a bit as you focused on staying still as you could. that didn’t last long, seeing as there wasn’t many people around you at the moment and your girlfriends were positioned behind you. you let your hands start flapping, doing your best to keep them close to your sides as possible. a small squeak of noise came out of your mouth as you watched the zoo keepers slowly bring out the stars of the event. the crowd around you started to grow as the people made their way up from the front of the zoo, most of them not paying you any attention and instead looking for the little baby that the zoo was celebrating.

slowly but surely the calf made it's way out of the enclosure, still a little unsteady on it's feet. you watched in awe as it made it's way around the exhibit, noting how small it was compared to it's parents. jj wrapped her arms around you from behind, intertwining her fingers with your hands and placing a kiss on your shoulder. you could tell she was standing on her tip toes to reach your shoulder and made sure to flatten your feet, considering you tended to stay on your tip toes when you got too excited about things.

“how tall do you think he is?”

“i’d guesstimate around 6 feet.” you rocked up and back down to flat feet as you spoke. “giraffes give birth standing up so they fall roughly six feet to the ground but get up on their feet within the hour.”

“you know more about giraffes than i thought.”

“i had a hyperfixation on wild animals and the care of them before i ended up in the academy. i was wanting to double major in zoology and communications before i started to look into paths to go down with a communications degree.” you turned to face jj and emily. “i was going to be an advocate for animal rights but then i started reading about the fbi and decided that would probably be a better path to go down.”

before you could continue your thoughts, the chime that sounded before the giraffe feedings sounded, signaling for everyone who had a ticket to line up. you were closer to the end, whch was fine because it meant you could watch the giraffes for longer. emily and jj made sure to take pictures of you the whole time, smiling and laughing along with you as the giraffe’s tongue tickled your hand while it ate the leaves you held out. by the time you got out of the exhibit, your stomach started to rumble and you pouted towards your girlfriends as you walked past one of the many cafés scattered around the zoo. without a word, emily pulled the three of you inside, telling you to order whatever you wanted. you ended up going for the chicken tenders and fries, knowing that the meal was something you most likely would have gotten when you came as a child. it was hard to remember if you ever came, but you presumed it was what you got because it felt right.

by the time the three of you made it to the halfway point, you started to realize your whole body was beginning to hurt. you weren’t sure if it was from physically stopping yourself from stimming in the bigger crowds, or if it was from all the walking you had done. either way, you found yourself starting to slow down a bit and start to feel like you needed a ten hour nap. it was only when you got toward the lemur exhibit when your body really started to hurt, and you unintentionally started to let it slip into your mind that you were hurting and needed to go home.

jj was the first to notice that you were starting to feel off, clocking the heaviness of your walking and the fact you had started to get a little whiney. there had been approximately three times in the five years she had known you that she had ever seen you this way. and all of those times happened when you were over exerting yourself. most of the times it was because you were stubborn, but this time it didn’t seem that way. within ten minutes you were complaining about how much your feet hurt and how you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t get to sit down within the next five minutes. emily and jj fell a few steps behind you, whispering to each other about how to go about the situation.

“do you think she’s subconsciously wanting us to.. i dunno, take control? lacey mentioned something about that at the support group on saturday.”

jj chewed at the end of her necklace. “it's possible. i’m willing to try it if you are, but the second they push back or show any signs of not going along with it i’m stopping.”

“are you going to take the lead on this?”

“if you don’t mind. we know how easily they’ll react to you, i’m curious what would happen if you didn’t say anything but i did.”

“then do it. i trust you.”

jj squeezed emily’s hand before making her way back over to where you sat on the bench, watching the zebra walk by and graze on the grass in front of you. you definitely looked worse for wear, considering the braid your hair had been in all day was beginning to come undone and you most definitely got sunburned on your shoulders at some point. jj knew you weren’t feeling well, and that you were hiding it in order to appease her and emily. it was something she had noticed multiple times throughout their time with you so far. even if you didn’t feel like doing something, you typically would put on a happy face and go through with it anyway. it hadn’t happened much, but she had started to catch it more and more.

“y/n, it’s time to go.”

“what? no!” you gasped. “we haven’t even been to the polar bears yet!”

“i know, and i know you want to finish it but i’m calling it.” jj stepped closer to you, her voice dropping. “you’re tired and need to go home and rest. i’m giving you til the count of five, and if you don’t get up and come with us to the car we won’t go to dolphin beach this weekend.”

“you wouldn’t!”

“five.”

“jayje- this isn’t fair! em-my, do something!” you whined, staring at the brunette.

“two.” jj raised an eyebrow as you refused to budge. “fine, we stay, but no beach then.”

“i’d listen to her if i were you.” emily replied. “while we haven’t truly gotten into that dynamic with you just yet, i will say that i’d be careful how much you go against her, lovey.” emily gave you a pointed look before clasping her hands together. “that being said, we use the color system. red means hard stop, yellow means i’m uncomfortable and green means go.” emily paused. “color?”

“green.”

“good. if anything changes, tell jj. i’m going to go to the ladies room, i’ll meet you up by the gates.”

emily placed a kiss on jj’s cheek and simply patted you on the shoulder before walking towards the front of the zoo, leaving you alone with the blonde. the logical part of your brain knew she was right. you were tired, your body was aching and you couldn’t walk for more than five minutes without having to sit down. but on the other hand, you were having fun poking the bear. reluctantly you got up, huffing and making a big deal of going home. you didn’t understand much about the way it was making you feel, but you knew it sent a tingle through your body seeing jj getting all worked up. it was amusing to you how red she got from you simply being a brat. and frankly, you liked it.

“you’re being unfair!”

“this attitude stops now, y/n. we’re going home.”

you bit your tongue cheekily, a glint forming in your eyes as you waited to see jj’s reaction. “mommy, you’re being mean to me.”

jj whipped her head to you, balling her hand into a fist at the side of her body. “what did you just call me?”

“… mommy?”

jj stopped walking suddenly, causing you to bump into her. “red.” she swallowed. “i’d like to talk about that later, when we’re home. not right now.”

“i’m sorry.” you looked at the ground, mortified. “it won’t happen again.”

a wave of guilt overtook your body as you two quietly walked to the front of the zoo, emily sensed some tension the second she saw you two, but knew that if she said anything you would probably start to spiral. by the time you got back to the car, all you could do was slip into the backseat and hope that jj wasn’t do mad at you that she was going to end everything. emily, albeit confused, took the front seat, trying to get an accurate read on jj. something happened while she was in the bathroom, but she couldn’t place a finger on what exactly that something was. by the time jj pulled into the driveway, the tension in the car had gotten so thick you couldn’t hold your tears back, letting them fall slowly down your cheeks as you forced yourself not to sob.

“go to our room. i’m going to compose my thoughts, give us a minute to calm down, then i’ll come talk to you.”

“o-okay.”

jj waited until you got out of the car to look at emily. “i called red.”

“what happened?”

“she called me mommy. i didn’t like it. i felt… gross. it was almost… too feminine?” jj looked at emily. “i probably sound crazy but-“

“you’re allowed to not like the way it makes you feel, jay.”

“i just don’t understand why it made my skin crawl.”

“may i.. is that why you don’t like being called beautiful or pretty?”

jj’s head snapped up. “huh?”

“the feminine terms. you don’t like them.”

“not necessarily, no.”

emily nodded. “we don’t have to unravel this now, but we need to put a pin in this. the three of us need to talk about that together so we’re all on the same page.”

“you’re right. can you go check on them? i just need… i need to think about how i’m going to articulate everything.”

“of course.” emily squeezed jj’s hand. “come up when you’re ready.”

“i will. promise.”

taglist: @jayden-prentiss @idkwhatever580 @multifandomlesbianic @softestqueeen

[tipsynight0]

Jack’s family// part one

Paring - laughing jack x female mother reader

Word count - 1.1k

Trigger warnings - stalking, infidelity, implied violence, supernatural horror, demonic clowns lmao, mentions of death involing children.

synopsis - (Y/N) picked Jack up from an old antique shop to decorate her son's nursery, unaware of the clown's growing obsession with her and her family.

Author's note - I'm branching out y'all, might be a part two of Jack killing her husband and holding her and her child hostage?? He just wants a family.

It had been ten years—ten agonizing, silent years—since Jack had last been free. He sat entombed in a dusty corner of an old antique shop, his once vibrant black-and-white box now dull, the wood cracking like an ancient relic. The jagged edges frayed with time, a reminder of the decades he’d spent as an instrument of terror, leaving a trail of broken families and dead children. And yet here he was, trapped, abandoned on a forgotten shelf, nothing more than a curiosity in the eyes of passing customers. To him, it felt like an eternity in purgatory.

Every day, the same routine. The dull chime of the shop's bell as strangers drifted in and out, oblivious to the dark history hidden in his box. He heard their idle conversations, their polite laughter—so blissfully unaware of what he could unleash. Jack sat, coiled tight in the suffocating darkness, waiting, his patience wearing thin with each passing second.

Then one day, the bell chimed, and something was different.

The air shifted as she entered the shop. Jack felt her presence immediately—a softness he hadn’t sensed in decades. The scrape of her shoes on the wooden floor was delicate, careful, and when her fingers brushed against the dust-laden surface of his box, he felt a shiver race through him. A voice, sweet and light, like a distant melody, reached his ears. "This Jack-in-the-box will be perfect for my son," she said, as if sealing Jack’s fate.

Freedom. His prison was lifted from the shelf, and as she blew the dust away, Jack could barely contain the excitement stirring within him. Finally, After all these years, he would get to play again—he would torment, terrorize, and destroy this new family. And this soft-voiced woman? She had no idea what she had invited into her life.

The gentle rumble of the car’s engine soothed Jack as he peered through the slit in his box. He watched the world pass by, noting how much it had changed. The cars, the buildings, the people—everything seemed new. But some things were always the same.

When the car stopped, she carried him inside, cradling the box as if it were precious. She placed him carefully on the dresser in the nursery—a room filled with warmth and light, a place so alien to Jack it almost made him recoil. The walls were painted with bright, cheerful stripes, circus animals danced in frames, and a mobile of tiny elephants spun slowly above the crib. The air smelled sweet, like lavender and baby powder, a scent that made Jack’s stomach twist.

For a moment, his resolve faltered. This wasn’t like the other homes. It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t sterile. The love in this room was palpable, and it sickened him.

But then he saw the photograph.

A family portrait, framed and sitting on the dresser, caught his eye. The woman—his woman now—stood smiling with her son in her arms, and beside her was a man. Instinctively, Jack’s gaze darkened. He recognized that kind of man all too well. The same hollow smile, the same empty eyes that Isaac, his original owner, had worn. A man filled with deceit. A liar. A traitor. A knot of fury twisted inside Jack. This was a man who didn’t deserve his family.

The door creaked open, and Jack slipped back into his box just in time. Through the crack, he watched as she entered, holding her baby, her face glowing with maternal love. The sight of her rocking the child in her arms, singing a familiar lullaby, filled Jack with something he hadn’t felt in years—desire. Not the kind he was used to, the hunger for fear and chaos. No, this was different. He wanted her for himself.

Later, when she was gone, Jack crept out of the box, his claws tracing over the photograph. His sharp nails slowly scratched out the image of the man, carving deep grooves until his face was nothing but a blur of ruined paper. Jack’s gaze lingered on her face now—her, and the baby. A family. A perfect, broken family, waiting for him to fix.

The days passed, and Jack’s obsession grew like a cancer. He watched her through the small hole in his box, never tiring, always waiting for those quiet moments when she would slip into Lucas’s room alone. She was always alone. No husband to help. No man to protect her. Jack learned the child’s schedule by heart. He knew when Lucas woke, when he napped, when she fed him. But his favorite moments were the late nights—when she would shuffle into the room, barely awake, her robe slipping from her shoulder, her hair falling messily around her face.

Those were the moments Jack lived for.

On nights when Lucas wouldn’t stop crying, Jack found himself wanting to silence the boy himself—just to keep her all to himself. The temptation to suffocate the child with his own stuffed bear crossed his mind more than once, but Jack refrained. No, Lucas was a part of this, too. Jack could… tolerate the boy. After all, a family needed a child. And when the baby would giggle at Jack’s twisted face peering over the edge of his crib, it was almost bearable. Lucas even reached out, tugging playfully at Jack’s long nose, giggling at the black curls that draped down his shoulders. The boy didn’t fear him.

But Jack's true focus was always on her.

He could see the sadness etched into her features during those quiet moments when she thought no one was watching. The loneliness. The frustration. Jack understood. He had seen the husband’s phone calls—heard the lies. The cheating, the excuses, the late nights at "work." Jack's fury boiled beneath the surface. That man didn’t deserve her. He was hurting her, breaking her spirit.

Jack wouldn’t allow it.

He had scratched the husband out of the photograph, but soon, Jack would erase him from her life entirely. He would wait for the perfect moment. And then, when the husband was gone, there would be nothing standing between Jack and his perfect family. Just him, her, and little Lucas.

Jack’s grin stretched impossibly wide. His claws twitched with anticipation. Soon, she would see. Soon, they’d be together.

They’d all be a happy family.

[leaentries]

out of line | nico hischier

summary: when his girl finds the ring, it doesn’t end like he had hoped.

warnings: mostly angst, swearing, this does have a happy ending (im sorry i couldnt leave my babies in dispair)

wc: 1.9k+

a/n: i’m sorry in advance, i feel like i don’t write angst that well…but i hope you enjoy regardless

the captain’s girl masterlist

Heaviness lay in thick blankets around the room, almost like the inches of sand that covered the expanse of beach outside. Your throat felt tight at the intense gaze Nico was blazing at you. It wasn’t often the two of you fought, but it sure hurt like hell when you did.

Shuddered breaths heaved in your chest, hands pricking at your nails. It all felt like a nightmare. Except, you weren’t waking up.

Tension had been rising for days, emotions only growing as you and Nico danced around each other. You had refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room, or rather, the ring.

You loved Nico, with everything in your being, but you weren’t ready for marriage. Not yet anyway. Nico had always seemed so understanding about you choosing to wait a few more years before doing anything rash. Yet now, you weren’t so sure.

With Nico inviting you to come along for the trip during bye-week, you couldn’t have been more ecstatic. The thought of being able to spend an entire week with your boyfriend was like a breath of much needed fresh air. And it was, for the first few days.

At least until Wednesday.

❥.

Nico had gone out with some of the guys, promising to be back by 4 at the latest. Not that you minded much, getting the very nice and very expensive villa to yourself for a while was enticing.

After an hour or so in the sun, you decided to take a little break and use the giant bathtub that had been screaming your name since you had arrived. Grabbing your bag and some clothes, you made your way to the en-suite, making sure to leave the door slightly cracked, just in case Nico got home.

You turned on the faucet, making sure the water temperature was just right, before stripping yourself and sinking into the welcoming space. Closing your eyes, you sunk your body lower into the water, until it brushed against your chin with any movement. The motion of the slight waves was like a massage to your sore, sun-burnt skin.

You remained in the tub until the water ran cold and your skin began to get pruny. You pulled the drain, before carefully getting out and wrapping yourself in the closest towel. Walking over to the counter, you rummaged through your bag, trying to find your face wash, yet coming up empty handed.

You rolled your eyes, realizing you must have left it somewhere. Although, it was just a minor inconvenience, since you and Nico both used the same brand, so you weren’t worrying too much.

Squatting down to open the cabinet under the sink, you pulled out Nico’s black bag, quickly opening it to find the familiar bottle. You began to pull stuff out, before a little velvet box fell onto the tile beneath you.

Your breath caught in your throat, hoping it isn’t what you think it is. Nico knew you wanted to marry him, but not now, not during the peak of his career and your schooling. It just wasn’t what you saw for yourself. Shakily reaching down to grab the box, you stood up, scared to open it.

You almost opted to put it back, knowing that if it was an engagement ring, your relationship would never go back to the way it was. This would bring up a new wave of emotions and obstacles. It would open up a door you didn’t know if you could close.

Bracing yourself against the counter, you slowly opened the box. Gleaming back at you, in all its glory, was the most beautiful ring you could have imagined. It was the perfect ring. But this only made it hurt worse. Just picturing Nico picking out a the cut of diamond you had always wanted, or the band color, had your heart clenching with sadness.

You knew you were gonna have to talk to him about it, before he did something that neither of you would be able to walk away from unscathed.

It was the only option to save your relationship. To save Nico.

Sighing, you swiftly get dressed, placing the box back on the counter, hoping that Nico would realize you had found it. Now this may seem cowardly, but it was truly what you thought would be best. At least then, the blow would be softer than a straight out rejection.

You figured that if you prompted him to bring up the ring, the conversation would be easier. Only, he never brought it up. You could tell he knew, by the way he was so cautious with anything he did around you past 48 hours. This only caused your heartache to worsen.

Eventually, the tension came to a boiling point. Having just got home from a private dinner, you can’t help but feel as though Nico had originally planned for more to come from that picture perfect beachfront sunset. Deep down, you didn’t need to guess, you knew.

This was the night Nico was supposed to propose.

You felt conflicted as you entered the living room in silence. On one hand, you felt relieved he didn’t get down on one knee, yet on the other, you felt guilty for hoping the man you loved wouldn’t confess his undying loyalty to you. Your chest tightened with emotion.

“Can we not do this anymore?”

Nico’s voice rang out, interrupting your battling thoughts. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Not do what, Neeks?”

“Not sit here and pretend you didn’t find the ring, or that I wasn’t gonna propose to you.”

There it was. The bomb finally dropped. With those few words, the harsh truth of the situation became real. All of it did. No matter how hard you tried to remain in denial, or refuse to acknowledge it, reality always finds a way to bite back.

You bit your lip, contemplating on how to begin voicing your side, “Nico, what you need to understand is-”

He cut you off, “I do understand, Y/n. But you told me about your whole “plan” 2 years ago when we first got together.” His chest heaved with despair, “I thought you’d change your mind by now.”

“My plan? My plan was never going to change. You can’t be upset with me, when you were the one who assumed I’d say yes.”

Nico felt his heart shatter at your words, anger quickly began to boil through his veins, “Of course I’d assume you’d say yes,” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, “I mean, fuck, we live together. We do everything with each other. I’m sorry for wanting to take that step with you, truly I am.”

His sarcasm didn't get lost on you. Scoffing, you turned away from him.

“Nico, you’re not listening to me-“

“What’s there to hear?” He cut you off once more, arms flaring into the air, “That you don’t want to marry me? God forbid someone actually wants to love you.”

You spin back around, tears springing to your eyes, “You are so out of line right now, Nico.”

Yet, your shaky tone did nothing to calm him.

“How am I out of line? For loving you?”

Disbelief was written all over your face. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend the intensity of it all. Nico’s harsh comments pelted through any sort of resolve you had left. Never once did you think Nico would say something like that. Especially knowing your past. It stung worse than any pain you could imagine. 

“T-That’s not fair,” You quivered, “And you know it.” 

Nico’s tense form deflated at your meek voice. The anger that once flowed through him like hot lava, has now receded, leaving nothing but spiky coldness and depression. He felt lost, plagued by the possibility of not spending the rest of his life with you.

He gingerly walked across the room, now standing directly parallel to you, “Why?” His voice was distant and cracking under the weight of his emotions, “Why won’t you marry me, schatzi?”

The use of the familiar nickname was enough to break you. Sobs wracked through your body, knees becoming shaky. Nico immediately engulfed you in his arms, cradling you against his chest like it was the last time he’d ever feel you. You felt Nico’s own tears fall freely, the hurt grasping you both. Heavy cries left Nico’s chest, only furthering your guilt. 

“I’m so sorry, Nico!” You blubbered hopelessly, “I love you so m-much, I just,” Your sentence was cut short by the rapid hiccups in your breath. 

Nico’s hands moved to gently hold your face, pulling it to meet his bloodshot eyes. His cheeks were red and puffy, wet tracks trailing down to his chin, but you knew you didn't look much better. He tried his best to calm your breathing, even through his own unsteady gasps. After a few minutes, you found yourself composed enough to continue. 

“I don’t know,” You admitted weakly, “I don’t know why I don’t want to marry you, Neeks. I’m just not ready, yet.”

Nico took a second to mull over your words. He dropped his hands from your face, leaving you distraught at the possibility of him being even more upset. He quickly turned, retreating to your shared bedroom. You felt your throat squeeze, a new wave of anxiety washing over you. 

Finding the courage to follow him, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed with his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. 

You made your way over to him, perching on your knees in front of his legs. He lifted his head, pain written all over his handsome features. Your body physically ached at the amount of hurt swimming in his doe eyes. You cursed yourself for being the cause of it. Nico reached out to slowly like he’d spook you if he moved too quickly. He pulled you to stadle his waist, big eyes drilling into yours. 

He dropped his head in shame, “I’m sorry, schatzi.” 

You swallowed thickly, having not expected an apology.

“I should have talked to you about it first. I-I just got excited when we finally started talking about the future, I thought you had changed your mind.” 

You relaxed slightly, realizing he wasn’t gonna end things, “Don’t be sorry,” You rasped, voice hoarse from crying, “I should have made it clearer.” 

Lifting his face, you forced him to look at you, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to get married eventually, Neeks. I promise, I do. Just-,” You looked at his hopeful gaze, “Just not right now.”

He nodded slightly, understanding your words. 

Your eye flickered from his eyes to his lips, before carefully placing a delicate kiss. Nico responded almost immediately, hands pulling you deeper. The kiss was slow and passionate. The days of bottled-up emotions pouring into each other's mouths. You slipped your hands into the back of his hair, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere. 

You eventually pulled away for air, chests panting. You sat for a moment, just taking in the other’s body. Nico was the first to break the silence. 

“Can you promise me something, schatzi?” Nico begged. 

You nodded quickly, “Anything.” 

“Promise you’ll marry me someday.” He swallowed, face falling into a serious expression.

You smiled slightly at his lingering worry. You kissed him once more as reassurance, before pulling away just enough to speak. 

“I promise I’ll marry you someday, Neeks.”

[sweetsweetjellybean]

A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.

Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter.  Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar

“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appears in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she calls you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her. 

She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher. 

This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.

Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would. 

The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD.  With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front. 

A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.

Right on time this morning. 

The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.

“Quit following me.” 

His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you. 

“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.

“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”

“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”

“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.

“No.” 

Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.

“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.

“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”

“I was here first.”

“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.

“Might as well walk beside me then.”

Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car. 

“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.

"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."

Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too. 

Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.

The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty. 

"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.

He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you. 

"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.

"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it. 

"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.

"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.

"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."

"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you. 

"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.

"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."

"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.

"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.

"Yeah, but you're his–"

"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.

"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder. 

Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy. 

"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon. 

"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”

"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort. 

"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing. 

Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun. 

"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"

"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."

"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.

"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt. 

Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.

“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.

“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.

“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end. 

Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.

“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.

"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.

"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.

"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan. 

Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.

"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"

"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.

"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him. 

"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company. 

"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours. 

"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.

Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?" 

"You ask me that every day."

Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago. 

"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.

"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.

"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.

The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones. 

While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.

Your lips move without sound–I love you.

You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you. 

You're happy. Why change a thing?

“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders. 

“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.

“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.

“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.

“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”

You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”

“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?” 

“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”

“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.

“Robin, he’s not that-”

Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp. 

“Hey, doll.”

The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal. 

"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents  bittersweet on your tongue.

Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you. 

Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.

"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.

"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.

"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck. 

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"

"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard. 

Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?

"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."

"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.

"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago. 

"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.

"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"

“Fu–”

"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"

Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"

“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand. 

“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.

“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”

Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.

“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”

“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”

"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.

“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.

When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.

“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”

He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”

With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar. 

There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.

You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.

"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.

The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.

"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.

"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.

"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.

"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.

He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."

You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."

"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.

"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.

"I know you're mad–" 

"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again." 

"We'll have to see about that," he smirks. 

"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.

"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?" 

The lie comes without hesitation. 

“No.”

Follow @tornupdates & turn on notifications

Read Song 2. here

AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.

[rainbowsky]

Xiao Zhan - Elle China September 2024

Now it has been 8 years since Xiao Zhan's first acting career. Looking at his resume, he has played the leading role in various TV dramas. But he still feels that he is a newcomer and hopes to work with more experienced production teams in the future. He doesn't think too much. He doesn't actually know the work plan divided by year. He only cares about what the next stage of work will be, rather than "asking about things that are too far away." #肖战ELLE Light and Shadow Blockbuster##肖战maintains curiosity and desire to explore##肖战ELLE Golden September Cover#

Photography: @于聪YuCong

Styling: @CloeDong

Makeup/Hairstyle: Qingjun (DDJSTUDIO)

Written by: Green

Editor: JIAWEI

Design: SHU

Art Creation: Feng Ruihua

Producer: Conan (在伍THOO)

Contact Editor: SISSI CHEN

Photography Assistant: Zhang Jun

Producer Assistant: Tianqi (在伍THOO)

Art Execution: Tiantian

Fashion Assistant: Baozhi, M, Kangkang, Xiaofan

Studio Equipment Provided by: Beijing Shangde Elephant

Two black curtains reach the top of the studio, neatly isolating the shooting area from the surroundings. You have to go through the maze-like curtains to get to the core of the small space. Pure white, too much air conditioning, and the high-frequency and continuous camera shutter sounds. Xiao Zhan wears all black clothes and rarely makes unnecessary movements. For a while, the lights broke and the shooting was suspended, so he stood in the dark with one foot on a wooden box; when the staff and photographer discussed the photos and adjusted the shape, he also stood in front of the display screen, with the faint screen light covering him… We recorded Xiao Zhan from another angle.

Xiao Zhan ELLE light and dark light and shadow blockbuster##Xiao Zhan maintains strange heart and explores desire##Xiao Zhan ELLE golden nine cover

Behind-the-scenes photography: Yuanqing Xie

Editor and coordinator: JIAWEI

Halfway through the interview, Xiao Zhan suddenly said that he had a conflicting feeling about long interviews. On the one hand, he was worried about not growing enough and showing his timidity in the conversation. On the other hand, he wanted to explore some subtle feelings through the conversation because he thought he was not good at recording them in words. Observation, feeling, understanding, and expression are the essence of an actor's creativity. "Dialogue is also muscle memory." Xiao Zhan said, "Although I am very i, I am not autistic. Because I think actors need to learn to express, express your inner thoughts, and digest the content handed to you by the other party.

[help-me-im-in-the-fandom]

When you stare into the Abyss: The Beginning of Robin

Bruce never thought he’d have a child, perhaps after his Mission was done, after Gotham was cleaned of the worst of crime and the worst of the worst were behind bars and receiving treatment.

It was a laughable thought, that Bruce would ever manage to clean the corruption out of Gotham, that he would ever be able to pull out the black tar of insanity and crime within his lifetime.

Then Bruce sees a boy watch as his parents die, he sees this small child at the exact same age as he was going through the exact same thing, and it hurts.

Brucie Wayne leaves the circus, but Batman arrives at the crime scene, he wants justice, wants to make sure it was an accident and nothing more, even if for his own heart.

Little Richard Grayson is missing, that’s the first thing he hears, and it scares him. So he joins the search and finds the young boy hidden in one of the Elephant tents. His red, yellow and green Leotard is stained with blood, and it makes Bruce heart ache.

He isn’t scared to see the hulking creature that is Batman, no, this tiny boys is full of rage, of hurt and pain and the need to fight. He screams into Batman’s suit and then collapses into a crying mess on his clawed arms.

He brings the small boy back to the police, even when they watch his non-human form with fear and disgust. He hands the young boy off to be placed with his new guardians and tries to focus on the case.

It isn’t until the next day that he learns the eight year old wasn’t sent to a foster family or even a shelter, but to a juvenile detention center.

There is no family, no will or any instructions on where to place the boy, and the circus doesn’t have the means to fight for the right to keep him, they leave town within the next day.

It’s spur of the moment, born of anger and depression and knowing exactly what that poor boy was going through. Except he didn’t have and Alfred, have the Wayne fortune to keep him safe and cozy inside a huge mansion to cry himself to sleep in.

A few bribes and a lot of money later, and Richard ‘call me Dick’ Grayson is now the Ward of Gotham’s richest bachelor.

The boy is full of energy and the need to play, and Bruce finds himself expanding the gym just to place practice trapeze equipment so he’s got somewhere to let out his energy, beside being a Trapaze artist was in his blood, and Bruce would never try to take it away from him.

But there is rage there too, and after Alfred finds him with a dislocated thumb and bloody knuckles Bruce ends up teaching him how to throw a punch, then how to kick box, then on and on he teaches this boy who soaks up the lessons like a sponge.

It’s not the healthiest coping mechanism, but it works. It turns this grieving and depressed child into a happy and cheerful one, it helps in the best way Bruce knows how.

Then, whoops, Dick follows Alfred into the Batcave and realizes just exactly what’s going on, because Bruce is only halfway into the Batman ensemble and it’s very obvious.

Bruce still hasn’t been able to find Tony Zucco, the man who rigged the Grayson’s to fall. He has tried, so hard, but the lowlife had bunkered down as soon as Batman took to the scene.

Dick yells and screams at Bruce for hiding the secret, then for not being able to catch his parents murderer. He fights Bruce, with the intent to hurt. Bruce regrets teaching how to fight just a little bit, and is very thankful he has a cup on already.

Eventually, after a very long and painful conversation, Dick understands why Bruce hid as he did.

It takes two days before he decides if Bruce can be a crime-fighting Vigelante so can he. Bruce refuses and tells him maybe when he’s older, more trained it might be possible but he is not allowing him to fight crime as a child.

It takes him smuggling into the Batmobile for the fifth time, and almost getting himself caught by a criminal that Bruce realizes that he can’t stop him no matter how hard he tries. Because along with all the tricks the circus and Bruce have taught him, he is a little devil of a child.

So Bruce decides, fine, he can join him on patrol, but only after he goes through this very specific and absolutely grueling training program, keeps his grades above a B+ and after he designs and perfects his own cryptid suit to Bruce’s liking.

Bruce was hoping his endless hoops and almost impossible expectations would make Dick back down, nope, if anything it made him even worse.

He goes through the training with a smile on his face and a continued need to learn, even when Bruce makes him learn how to do college level chemistry, how to code and make back doors and viruses, even when he makes him sit through three hour long lectures on how to tell blood splatters apart.

He excels at school as well, going above and beyond with A+ across the board except for in English, which is understandable since it’s not Dicks first language.

He decides on his mother’s nickname for his new name, Robin, but he also chooses the Grayson colors for his suit, red yellow and green.

Robin looks more like a hummingbird, especially since Dick wanted both stilts and wings on his costume. Bruce actually welcomes the bonding activity of making the prosthetic bird feet that are fully functional, and would never stop Divk from his dream of flying, even if it’s more like paragliding.

Dick even creates his own style of fighting in the suit, flashy and playful but also deadly brutal. Sometimes Bruce forgets how quickly his ward can go from cheery and playful to downright brutal, but honestly he’s proud of his kid, even if this is probably the most concerning father-son bonding excercise ever

And thus, Robin was born and Gotham gained a new cryptid.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of hurt/comfort fics as requested in this ask. This rec is a part 2, you can find part 1 here. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

❤️‍🩹 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere

(E, 149k, superheroes) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe. //an X-Men AU.

❤️‍🩹 another dream but always you by you_explode / @nobodymoves

(M, 66k, famous/not famous) Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band.

❤️‍🩹 saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 61k, time travel) Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

❤️‍🩹 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie

(E, 46k, soulmates) Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. 

❤️‍🩹 Train Tracks and Porcelain by @jaerie

(E, 41k, historical circus au) Shadows were forming into people and things and, there in the middle of it, Louis watched the humongous head of an elephant emerge from a box car right in front of his eyes. Or a Water For Elephants inspired AU

❤️‍🩹 Caves End by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 39k, farm) the one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

❤️‍🩹 My Other Half Was You by @lululawrence

(NR, 35k, acrobat Louis) By the age of 30, Louis' entire life trajectory had changed from what he'd thought it would be. He moved back to the town he grew up in and did his best to pull himself and his life back together again.

❤️‍🩹 All Out of Love by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(G, 32k, cupid au) While on a mission to match Liam and Zayn, the distraction comes in the shape of Louis Tomlinson – an overworked and underloved man trying way too hard to do everything himself.

❤️‍🩹 Until the Pearls Get Lost by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k, omegaverse) Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers.

❤️‍🩹 Scarred by @allwaswell16

(E, 23k, omegaverse) As a male omega, Louis has learned to live with disappointment and rejection, but he dreams of the day he finds his soulmate. When Harry inadvertently rejects him as his soulmate, Harry has no idea he's doomed Louis to a slow, painful death.

❤️‍🩹 what's left of my halo's black by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(E, 22k, fwb) A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for.

❤️‍🩹 some evening in springtime by delsicle / @eeveedel

(M, 20k, age difference) Fresh out of veterinary school, Louis moves to a sleepy small town in Texas to take over the local animal clinic. But his new life is quickly interrupted by a middle aged rancher with a bad leg and a mysterious past, who really needs Louis's yoga skills.

❤️‍🩹 Safe place to hide us away by @lunarheslwt

(T, 12k, omegaverse) weighed down by everyday stress, alpha Harry takes up nesting in secret. It takes a load of missing clothes and unravelling lies for him to realise that his omega would love and accept him no matter what.

❤️‍🩹 Close Enough to Touch by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(M, 11k, tour au) Louis definitely did not need a masseuse on tour. Not even if that masseuse turned out to be gorgeous, kind, and lovely.

❤️‍🩹 I Kinda Need A Hero (Is It You) by @fallinglikethis

(NR, 5k, flower shop) Louis is a barista who’s had his heart broken. Harry is the boy who wants to put the pieces back together.

❤️‍🩹 Together We're the Greatest by @hellolovers13

(E, 4k, exes) It's not the first time Louis has to stitch Harry back together, but Louis will make sure it is the last.

❤️‍🩹 The Cowboy In Us All by @taggiecb

(G, 3k, famous/famous) When the real pain of trouble in their relationship gets to be too much they turn to the one thing that they can control; the messages in the songs they sing onstage.

❤️‍🩹 Remember Me (When I'm With You) by liberty_barnes / @liberty-barnes

(T, 1k, fallen angel Louis) the one where Louis was cast out and Harry just wants him to be happy.

- Rare Pairs -

❤️‍🩹 your crimes are quiet, my love by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 97k, Zayn/Liam) A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. 

❤️‍🩹 a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 10k, Niall/Harry) Harry’s never been around an omega in depri as bad off as Niall looks; most of the time, there’s an alpha friend or family member who can help out with scenting and physical contact.

[certifiedfreec]

neighbor!simon, the man that you are…

(reader is a baker… just for these few minutes 😭🙏)

🏘️ you’re finally settled into your new home, located in a quaint neighborhood not terribly far from your old one. it’s got a huge kitchen- exactly what you need for your small baking business! with all your supplies in their proper place, you’re finally ready to tackle all those orders after temporarily halting your services while you moved. you start prepping for a client’s son’s birthday cake, gathering all your ingredients, and you plug in your mixer…

🏘️ bright sparks fly for a second, making you fear for a house fire, and in seconds your mixer is deemed inoperable. must’ve gotten banged up during the move, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been using it for years :/ this puts you in a tight situation, as the lady’s supposed to pick the cake up this evening! there’s not enough time to go out and get a new one- but it’s not like you could afford one anyway with the lack of business over the past few weeks. sigh. you don’t even know any of your neighbors yet, but at this point they’re your only option.

🏘️ you set your ingredients aside before you reluctantly venture out of your house, starting with your neighbor to the left. a friendly old woman answers, but after asking for help you learn that she mixes “the ol’-fashioned way.” well, she’s not making a complicated triple-layer cake for some grimy kid, so that’s not exactly an option, judith. you thank her anyway and head over to the house across from yours, only to get no answer. must not be home. shit. you’re losing your last glimmer of hope as you trudge over to the house to your right, knocking on the door and already feeling a wave of regret crash into you. however, the tide changes when the door opens after a moment…

🏘️ you’re met by a hulking, broad man who barely fits in his doorframe, dressed in a black hoodie and blue jeans. he’s got some sort of balaclava covering his face- unconventional for sure, but that doesn’t dissuade you from nearly ogling at his size. he’s at least 6 feet tall, and all you can see are his eyes. shiny, warm, and honey-brown, but they watch you with some sort of guarded interest. almost like he’s staring through you. you can’t tell if you’ve already pissed him off, but then you hear his voice.

🏘️ “‘ello?” he’s not just british, he’s super british, with a voice so low and throaty that you want him to read you bedtime stories. you’re a little dumbfounded at the haunting beauty of the man whose doorstep you’re invading, but you’re so desperate to finish that goddamn birthday cake that you nervously blurt out some meek elevator pitch: hi, i’m a new neighbor next door, i have a baking business from home and my mixer just exploded on me. i have to make an annoyingly elaborate cake by tonight, would you by chance happen to have a mixer?

🏘️ the man chuckles. like, actually chuckles, and it’s the most beautiful sound ever. he must be used to having that effect on people; you hope he can’t hear your heartbeat skyrocketing. you see a faint smile through that skull-printed mask thing, and he gives you a quick nod before suddenly disappearing into his home. from the halfway-open door, it looks like it’s minimally decorated. you see some ambient lighting and hear some rock music playing somewhere-why are you paying attention to these things right now??

🏘️ the massive man emerges again, handling a beautiful high-end mixer that’s still in the box, and it makes your heart still. you’re fucking kidding. it was nicer than the one you were previously using before it combusted. that wave of regret from earlier ebbs into one of relief as he clutches it in his bear-paw-like hands, telling you briefly that he’s “been tryna get rid of the bloody thing” since he doesn’t bake much anyway. says he got it as a white elephant gift and was pissed about it, because he’d originally gotten some great bottles of bourbon that were inevitably stolen from him. he seems to warm up the slightest bit when he tells you, “keep it. it’s been collectin’ dust here.”

🏘️ you can’t get clear a read from him through all this, maybe because of his menacing appearance and stoic expression... yet he’s fairly relaxed when he talks to you. it’s actually kind of endearing! he’s giving you major “scary dog privilege” vibes, and you’ve always liked an intimidating- looking man who turns out to be a softie <3 you tell him you’d be happy to pay him for the gorgeous mixer he’s bestowing upon you, and he only shakes his head, as he has something else in mind. “i got one condition.” yeah, he’s not letting you go that easily. he’d be silly to, he thinks.

🏘️ you wait for this huge stranger’s request with bated breath, hoping he doesn’t say anything off-kilter though you’d probably do anything he asked since he’s so freakin’ attractive even without seeing at his face. you notice that faint smile again through the mask fabric before he says simply, “a lil’ bit of whatever you’re bakin’.”

🏘️ that’s all? you laugh, which to him is more pleasing to the ear than the music he’s playing throughout his house. it’s a surprisingly lighthearted ask and you happily oblige. an excuse to see this hunk again? sign me up!! he introduces himself as simon, and you assure him you’ll save him a little piece of your project because he just saved your whole damn business. pretty sweet deal. you thank him again with the expensive mixer in your grasp, feeling like the universe is entirely on your side today as you walk back to your house just 50 feet away. he’s feeling the exact same, and this man has never trusted the universe before.

🏘️ no surprise here, but the mixer works like a charm! it’s almost happy to no longer be sitting in the purgatory of simon’s kitchen cabinet. what was supposed to be a one-time deal turns into a routine of bringing over various cookies, pies, and cake slices to neighbor!simon, which is also the perfect excuse to see him without his face covering on <3 he’s hesitant about this at first, but now that gorgeous face is always on display so he can try whatever you’re fixing. oh, and you’re surprised to find that he’s more than comfortable with critiquing your baking, the cocky bastard. one time you brought over a wedge of lemon meringue pie, and upon biting into it he immediately told you “there’s not enough lemon zest.” you told him you thought he never baked; his self assured reply was “said i couldn’t bake, not couldn’t taste.”

🏘️ from that point on, you trust neighbor!simon’s judgment. he’s brutally honest, no sugarcoating (though he thought your peanut butter cookies could’ve used some of that). the only logical thing to do was appoint him as your official taste-tester, which he of course accepted! someone’s gotta do it, right? soon after his “promotion,” he’s sat in your kitchen to sample little bits of your work, letting you know what he thinks is missing and trying his hardest not to imagine dragging you back to your bedroom. he actually thinks you’re an incredible baker- he just likes to get all the portions that are reserved for him only!! if only he could sample you sometime :( he has this insatiable need to be even closer, so now he’s up helping you reach things in your higher cabinets and putting away used ingredients so your space is kept tidy. this makes your heart and something else swoon- yeah, you could definitely get used to having him as a business partner :’)

🏘️ neighbor!simon likes to study you whenever he’s over “on the clock”- his steady gaze picks up on all the details you don’t even notice about yourself. how tightly you hold your spatula when you’re stirring ingredients, how your tongue darts out when you’re reading through a recipe, how your cute little cheeks flush red when you vent about high-maintenance clients. you’re just so passionate that it’s almost maddening! a darker part of him can’t help but want to disrupt you, break your focus (and your back too hehe) and make you forget about your job for a little. you’re just so overworked, so eager to please your clientele, poor thing :( if only he could help you relieve your stress!!

🏘️ eventually he gets called in for an operation with his job, and he tells you he’s gonna be on assignment for a little over a month. you’re surprised at how sad you are when he’s not around to pull your cakes out of the oven and make his snarky comments about your demanding clients :/ he admittedly can’t stop thinking about you while he’s gone, how pretty you look when you’re concentrating on your pastry art, how he wants to rip that apron right off of you. he tries to distance himself with his work, reasoning that you’ll forget about him eventually since you’re just neighbors anyway. however, this is all thrown out the window when he returns home and sees that you’ve made him a huge banoffee pie, a favorite treat of his that he mentioned offhandedly one afternoon <3

🏘️ neighbor!simon has no words that can convey his appreciation- you really are the sweetest thing that’s happened to him! he immediately takes a bite, and it’s something he wants for every single occasion now. the combination of the kind gesture and the extensive time spent away from you inspires him to show you how grateful he is- in other words, he’s got you perched on your counter beside all your baking supplies, holding your legs over his shoulders while he devours your pussy like it’s one of your famed desserts. he laps and sucks at your oversensitive clit while you’re left to tug on his dark blond hair, and he thinks that your sweet slick is so much better than anything you’ve baked (no offense!! <3).

🏘️ and the best part? you feel just as good as you taste! after making you cum on his warm tongue and long fingers too many times to count, he’s mercilessly pounding into your cunt, holding your thighs up as he fills you with his ridiculously thick cock :’) one of his massive hands is cradling the back of your head, making you watch his length repeatedly sink into you and cause that bulge in your lower tummy. if that wasn’t enough to have you singing his praises, he’s telling you everything you’d ever wanted to hear from him with that low, husky voice of his: “y’look so pretty all split open for me,” “see that? takin’ me so good, angel,” “lemme have it, wanna feel you cum…”

🏘️ you’re sure the rest of your neighbors can hear you as your voice grows hoarse from crying out neighbor!simon’s name so much, but your brain is so fried from all the intense orgasms that you really don’t care!! with few more hard thrusts he finally pumps his hot load of cum into you, rendering you too sexed out to finish the rest of your clients’ orders that day. good thing he’s watched you so closely since he started coming over, because now he knows exactly what to do to get them prepped while you nap. he carries you to your bed, and all you can focus on as you drift to sleep is what else you can bake for him to get him to fuck you like that again. really though, he’d do it absolutely anytime- you’re his new favorite dessert anyway <3

[musicnhealthstuff]

It Returns.

I decided I didn't like the black plastic veneer on the headstock. So I sanded it off. I also added another lil' wing thing and turned that broken corner into a purposeful shape!

I custom made my own pickguard out of a box I got for next to nothing at goodwill. I'll be using wood from that thing for a while!

On the other hand I think I may not make wooden pickup rings again, or if I do, I'll choose my woods more carefully.

This is cut from the same piece as the pickguard, the only difference is that I stained it. But it was such a pain to work with!

It cracked around Every Single Screw-hole! I think it's as much glue as wood at this point!

I'm sure you've already noticed the fretboard stickers. This is the third set of these that I've installed and I'm pretty impressed!

I feel like the roman numerals give it a sort of 'old grandfather clock' vibe that fits with the rest of the piece.

And of course, the elephant in the room.

DR Neon strings. Obviously I put the glowing green strings on the Mad Science guitar!

But I REALLY thought I would have more time before paint loss became an issue! I've had these on here for Three Days. The paint is already peeling off of the unwound strings. Wow.

The treble strings also sound oddly weak, I feel like a lot of concessions were made to get these to work at all. And they still don't work well.

On the other hand, the wound strings sound geat! They have a sort of punch and attack that I find is often lacking in the lower register. I'm probably gonna replace the treble strings and keep the basses. I can see why the sell so many more bass sets.

I also replaced the stock bridge with a resonator tailpiece and a Gretsch space control bridge. Just because it looks the part.

I may use this style of bridge again in future because it was the least fussy part of this whole project!

That brass bit is a serial number plate that I hand stamped! Not that it's terribly legible on camera.

That slightly odd looking matte spot is where I had to re route the ground wire to the tailpiece.

So, there it is Hellsite!

More (hopefully better) Girl Genius Guitar!

[mama-qwerty]

Rescue

So here we have another self-indulgent piece that I had started months ago. Finally got around to finishing it and boy does it feel good to write.

Takes place in my Knuckles MacPherson au.

~~~~~

Under any other circumstances, Callie probably would have been intimidated.

She stood in the large office, decorated with ornate display cases containing trinkets and artifacts, many of which she was pretty certain weren’t obtained fairly or legally. Some were weapons, spears or shields or swords, while others contained relics that most likely held a more spiritual or symbolic meaning. Masks, headdresses, and statues of various sizes. Each item was carefully labeled, well lit, and positioned inside a glass case. They lined the walls, trophies on display for their owner, the large elephant Callie was currently staring down at the opposite end of the room.

Or she supposed he could be a mammoth. He was covered in brown fur, his long tusks curling toward the ceiling. They were actually fairly impressive, as far as tusks went. Obviously this guy had been around for a while.

He was currently on the phone, exchanging words with someone on the other end about her presence. It had taken some effort to make her way here, and she hadn’t even had the decency to have an appointment. She shifted the bag slung across her as she waited for him to finally hang up and address her.

She flicked her eyes to the right, where Knuckles stood. His eyes were half lidded, one swollen and sporting an ugly purple color that was almost black. A split marked his bottom lip, and his tongue dipped out to run over it as she watched. There were obvious bruises along his body, what looked like a healing laceration across his chest, and his large formerly white mitts were now stained and torn.

Shackles weighed on his wrists and ankles, with some sort of energy charge tethering them together. A large collar was clamped around his neck, with a larger box-like protuberance on one side. A little green light blinked regularly on that box, steady and menacing.

She may not have had a lot of experience off-world—this being her first time, after all—but she knew a shock collar when she saw one. Judging by the darkened fur peeking over the edges, it had been used often.

She simultaneously wanted to rush to her boy, take him in her arms and comfort him, and launch herself at this smug mammoth to tear his tusks right out of his face and beat him with them.

Knuckles had been taken two weeks ago. A ring had opened, allowing six humanoid beings to come through. There’d been a short battle, but these beings—bounty hunters, most likely—had been ready with electric staffs. They swarmed him, weakening him just enough to attach that cursed collar, and drag him back through.

She’d been panicked, worried sick for him, and the Wachowskis had been a godsend at keeping her sane. It had been a frantic search, Tails had put out all possible feelers through the galaxy for any sign of his location, when they suddenly got a hit three days later.

“The return of the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy! He’s back and tougher than ever! The battles have never been more intense! See him take down any challenger!”

The arenas. They’d taken him back to the arenas.

They would regret that. She’d make damn sure of it.

The mammoth finally hung up the phone with a slam, drawing her eyes back to him. The look he leveled upon her spoke of a man short on patience, and an overabundance of a nasty disposition, with the desire, and means, to do whatever the hell he pleased.

An intimidating situation, in most other circumstances.

These weren’t most other circumstances.

“Well,” the mammoth said, his voice not quite a sneer, but not quite not. “You seemed quite eager to meet with me. Tell me your business, or stop wasting my time.”

He sounded simultaneously annoyed and bored. Again, the idea of beating him with his own tusks flashed through her mind. She pushed it away with some effort, and stood tall, pushing her shoulders back and leveled him with a cold, sharp glare.

"I'll give you one chance to give me the echidna, and render his contract void." Her voice was tight, clipped, and dripping with barely contained rage.

The mammoth behind the equally sized desk leaned back in his chair, the springs straining beneath his weight. A smile curled his lips—a smirk, really—and he rested his elbows on the armrests of the chair, steepling his fingers before his chest.

"I find it very entertaining that you think you can simply waltz into my place of business and issue demands."

"Oh, this isn't a demand," she said, a similar smirk curling her own lips. "It's a courtesy. This is me, being polite, giving you a chance to avoid a whole lotta trouble."

An amused sound rumbled through his trunk, and he ran a hand along one of his long, curled tusks. Callie thought it was probably similar to when men caressed their own mustaches. "Trouble? Little lady, you'll pardon my amusement. You don't strike me as capable of giving me much trouble at all."

She shrugged. "Underestimating someone is a sign of either overconfidence, or bigotry, and right now I'm not sure I care which you're doing. Either way, that gives me the advantage."

"I doubt it."

"Try me."

"Me'na," Knuckles said, and the croak in his voice hurt Callie's heart. "You must go. He will—"

He was cut off with a sudden cry of pain, the lights on the collar around his neck lighting as electricity coursed through him. He grit his teeth, falling to one knee as thin tendrils of smoke trailed up from beneath the collar.

Callie's poker face fell momentarily, and she reached for Knuckles as he panted from the pain. Mogul chuckled at the sight, and that made Callie see red.

“Do that again and I will personally shove that tusk of yours so far up your a—”

The mammoth cut her off with a more annoyed huff, his chair giving a squeaky groan as he leaned forward. "Enough of this. I've wasted enough time with you. The echidna is mine, and will be until I see fit to release him from the contract he signed."

"As a child, with no legal guardian to permit such an agreement to take place," she said, her lips pulling into a tight line. She stepped closer to the desk, her shoulders back and gaze locked onto his. "I'd bet my ass that contract was signed under duress, if he even signed it at all."

“The boy was an orphan, and as such became my property—“ He gave her a sneering smile with a little amused snort when she bristled at that. “Ahem. I took . . . responsibility for the boy, and gave him opportunities he wouldn’t have otherwise had. I made him strong.”

“His father made him strong,” she said, and had to grit her teeth to keep from yelling. “His tribe made him strong. You made him an attraction to line your pockets.”

He lifted one massive shoulder in a shrug. “Agree to disagree.”

She pointed to Knuckles, and oh how her heart clenched when he flinched. “Look at him. I highly doubt he’s making you the money you want when he’s obviously too tired to fight properly.”

Another shrug. “That’s the advantage of a famous name. He doesn’t have to win. He just needs to appear. He’s one of the most famous champions I’ve ever had, and people flock to see the legendary last of the echidna, even if he’s getting his tail handed to him.”

“And what happens if he’s killed?”

His sneering smile returned. “Then I have exclusive rights to the only recording of the most dangerous warrior in the galaxy being defeated, in addition to a new owner of that title.” He sat back again, much to his chair’s very loud protest, bringing his hands to that steepled pose once more. “This is the way things are done here, lady. It’s just business.”

“More like extortion, kidnapping, and slavery, likely with a little dash of blackmail sprinkled in, too.”

His smile dropped. “I’d watch your mouth. You have no idea who you’re talking to.”

Her smile returned. She stepped forward and picked up the name placard on his desk, turning it toward him. “Mammoth Mogul. That’s you, right? The same Mammoth Mogul who not only owns the biggest broadcasting stations in the galaxy, but also half of Casino Zone, and majority shareholder of every arena this side of the Milky Way. Oh, not to mention a major contributor to a lot of the high muckity mucks around these parts, who always seem to turn a blind eye to the questionable goings on in your arenas and casinos, yet crack down pretty darn hard on other ones.”

Mogul’s face darkened, his fingers slipping from the steepled position to interlace and tighten. Oh, he didn’t like that.

“I believe you’re mistaken.”

“Yeah, your incredibly convincing poker face tells me I’m not.”

Silence settled for a moment, and Mogul leaned forward again, planting his elbows on the desk as he watched her with sharp eyes. He spoke through grit teeth. “And where did you hear these . . . wildly fabricated things?”

Her smile turned a little sharper. More predatory. “I’m a librarian. Curious by nature. I research. I dig. I sift through page after page of newspaper articles, and connect dots.” She dropped the placard back onto the desk with a clatter. “And you really should invest in a better firewall for your network. Once we got through, it was just a matter of searching your files to gather the info we needed to get in here.”

His eyebrow raised. “We?”

She shrugged, turning slightly to assume a more bored demeanor. Truth was, she was scared out of her mind, not only for herself but for Knuckles. This mammoth could theoretically snap her neck at the slightest provocation, and she wasn’t exactly playing it safe. She just hoped the plan she and Wachowskis had come up with actually worked.

“My associate zeroed in on where the echidna was being held, and then it was a quick job of bypassing all your so called security so we could get a peek at your internal files. Ticket sale tracking, profit expectations, bookkeeping . . .” She cast him a side eye. “How interesting that there seemed to be two copies of those. With vastly different numbers.”

The silence that settled then was heavy and thick and Callie could feel it seep into her as though it were a physical thing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, as the mammoth’s gaze bored into her.

“I could kill you right now. You realize that, don’t you?”

She resisted the urge to swallow hard, but her hands clenched tighter on the strap of the bag slung across her.

Steady, Cal. Steady.

She had three rules to follow: Don’t show fear, stand your ground, and get Knux out.

“There’s that underestimating thing again.” Her voice was soft, and she pushed a little smirk to her lips. “Do you really think I came here without a plan?”

“And do you think I’ll just let you leave?” Mogul reached beneath his desk, presumably to press the little secret button all big important crooked bosses seem to have to summon his security team. “Maybe I’ll put you in the arenas. You wouldn’t last long, but hey, you’d be an interesting draw, nonetheless.”

“Oh, ya think? I’m actually a little flattered.”

Seconds passed, and no big burly security guards burst through the door to apprehend her. Mogul kept flicking his eyes to the door, the agitation in his expression growing every second they didn’t appear. Callie stood before his desk, watching him with a little smile.

When it was clear no help was coming, the mammoth pegged her with a dark glare. “How the hell did you get in here?”

Her smile grew. “Ah, now he’s asking the right questions. Your guards tried to, shall we say, convince me to leave, but I was pretty determined to speak with you. So I made sure they wouldn’t interrupt us.”

Okay, truth be told, Tails’ inventions made sure they were nicely contained for this little rescue mission. That little fox had been busy building as many weapons and traps as he could, while Callie searched through Mogul’s database to find information to, well, blackmail him with.

Sonic had wanted to come along to do his hero thing, but the adults decided it would be best if the other boys stayed behind. The rest of the universe didn’t know about them, and if this guy discovered there was a super fast hedgehog, and a super intelligent fox with a talent for building weapons, he would likely stop at nothing to snag them for his little gladiator games, too.

Best to keep them out of sight, and off this jerk’s radar.

Mogul pushed himself to stand, his chair giving one last groan as he hefted his weight from it. Callie’s heart pounded in her chest—holy crap he was huge. Now she did swallow hard, and it took all her bravery to stand her ground and not step back.

“I don’t need them to take care of you,” he growled, leaning forward to rest his fists on the desk and glare at her. “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

“Me’na,” Knuckles called again, and Callie didn’t spare a look in his direction.

“It’s alright, sweetie,” she called, and was surprised when her voice came out steady. “We’ll be home soon.”

A snort of laughter traveled down the mammoth’s trunk at that, and he shook his head. “I can’t decide if you’re delusional, or just plain stupid.”

She smirked. “And I can’t believe you never wondered what was in my bag.”

His smile faded as his eyes flicked down to the worn messenger bag slung across her. She reached inside, pulling out a small cylinder shaped object with a button on the top. Holding it in a fist, she let her thumb hover over the large red button.

“We could have done this the easy way. I get the echidna, and you keep your arena in one piece.” She shrugged. “But you decided to be a dick.”

He scoffed. “Your poker face isn’t as convincing as you think it is.”

“I don’t think you understand just what’s at stake here,” she said, her voice quiet. “I didn’t just take out your guards. Before I came up here to talk to you, I took a detour to check out your arena. Then I found my way to the holding cells beneath it, where you keep your fighters contained. Nifty little prison you’ve got down there. Exactly how many are here of their own free will?”

His lips pulled into a tight frown. “They’re fairly compensated for their participation.”

“Mmm, that’s not what they said. Had myself a little chat with some of them. Seemed like most are here due to some debt they couldn’t repay. Some were captured. Others snagged as kids, like he was. All forced to fight, to put money in your filthy hands.”

He stood tall, crossing his arms before him. “They all signed contracts. It’s legal and binding.”

“And I’m sure they all signed them completely of their own free will, too,” she said, the scoff in her voice apparent. “But you know what? I’m willing to be nice and give you one more chance.” She nodded toward Knuckles. “Let him go. Never send any of your bounty hunters or goons after him again. You can sit up here, making bank off the misery of others. Just leave.us.alone.”

Mogul stared at her for a moment, seemingly considering her offer. “And if I refuse?”

She shrugged. “Then I push this little red button, and all the explosive devices I planted around the building go kaboom. All your fighters will be released, and some of them really didn’t have nice things to say about the guy who forced them to fight against their will. So I’d be a liiiittle worried about payback if I were you.”

The mammoth snarled at that, his hands dropping to curl into fists by his sides. “I’ll never stop hunting him.” His voice was little more than a growl. “Whatever you do I’ll rebuild from. A minor setback, at best. But I will make it my mission in life to see you both in that arena, beaten within an inch of your lives. I will revel in your screams. Your begging for your lives.”

A chill ran up Callie’s spine. He meant it. He would never stop looking for them, and especially now that he knew what planet they were on, he may not stop with just her or Knuckles. The other two boys would be in danger, as would any other person or animal on Earth.

Which meant that what she was about to do was for the good of her entire planet, and not just her boy.

But truthfully, her boy’s safety would have been reason enough.

“Big mistake,” she said, lifting her thumb. “Huge.”

Her thumb dropped, and there was a soft ‘click’ as the button depressed.

The entire building shivered. Explosions rang out all around them, deafening for a few seconds. The trio on Mogul’s office staggered on their feet, as the display cases around the room trembled from the force of the blasts.

That was much bigger than Callie expected. Tails really went all out with his weapons. She’d have to tell Maddie to keep an eye on that kid.

“NO!” The mammoth bellowed, moving to the windows that overlooked his arena below. Flames engulfed the spectator seats, and great pillars of smoke billowed out.

Callie didn’t waste any time. She hurried to Knuckles and jabbed the detonator against the collar. “Touch the end to any exposed circuitry, and twist the top,” Tails had told her, and she did as he instructed. The cylinder vibrated in her hand, and the sharp cackle of static floated up, right before the collar shorted out. The blinking green light went dark, and Knuckles gave a little grunt of relief.

“Look out!” he shouted, just as Callie was grabbed from behind by a long trunk, and thrown across the room. She landed hard, sliding across the floor, before smashing into a display case. The glass shattered, raining down on her as she tried to regain her senses.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Mogul smacked Knuckles into the corner with a swing of his trunk. The echidna crashed hard against the wall, crumpling to the floor with a painful groan.

“Leave him alone!” Callie screamed, the fear inside her quickly being overtaken by her protective instincts.

Mogul turned to her, his eyes hard and sharp, full of rage and fire. “I’ll kill you first, and make him watch,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. He stalked toward her, hands curled into tight fists. “Then I’ll make him fight until he begs for death.”

Oh shit.

Callie plunged her hand into her bag, fumbling for a moment in her panic, before her fingers curled around a flat disk with a button on the top. She pulled it out and clicked the button before throwing it like a Frisbee. Little arms jutted out around the circumference as it flew through the air, creating a crackling electrical net which wrapped itself around the mammoth, pulling his arms tight against his body as it delivered a strong shock.

Mogul screamed before going to his knees, and Callie moved as quick as she could to get back to Knuckles, her hand dipping into her pocket to retrieve the portal ring meant to send them home.

She wasn’t quick enough.

Just as she managed to half crawl, half run toward Knuckles, Mogul broke free from his electrical restraints. He clamped a hand on her ankle, yanking her backwards toward him.

“Oh no you don’t,” he sneered, tearing the bag strap to toss it into the far corner of the office. “No more toys.”

“Me’na!” Knuckles pushed himself to his knees, but he was obviously too exhausted and injured to help much. Mogul must have really put him through it for the echidna to be that sluggish.

The ring was still in Callie’s hand. As Mogul pulled her back, she closed her eyes and thought of the Wachowski’s backyard.

Then she slammed the ring on the floor, and pushed it toward Knuckles. It slid along the floor, coming to a stop right beneath him, and he had time to give her a shocked looked right before it opened, dropping him through.

“No!” His cry echoed as he traveled from this world to Earth, and a second later the portal closed.

Safe. Her boy was safe.

And then she was flying through the air when Mogul tossed her like a rag doll. She smashed into another display case, vaguely aware when the glass sliced her open in various places.

“I’ll admit, you took me by surprise,” he said as he came toward her. He moved slowly, shedding his suit jacket as he approached. He unbuttoned his cuffs, and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. “Not many can make that claim. But then again,” he lifted her by the throat, and slammed her into another case, “they never make it for long.”

Callie’s feet dangled above the floor, his fingers tightening around her throat.

Acting out of pure panic, Callie reached into the case behind her, hand searching for something, anything, to help. Her fingers curled around something solid and heavy, and she brought it around with all the strength she had left, smashing what seemed to be a solid iron statue straight against his temple.

Mogul uttered a strained growl, releasing her as he staggered back. Callie dropped, coughing and gasping, but kept her eye on the mammoth. He turned away from her slightly, his large tusks facing to her left, and an idea struck. She moved before she could think too much about it.

Lunging forward, she grabbed hold of his nearest tusk, and swung her body like an Olympic gymnast on the parallel bars. The momentum jerked him to his left, whipping his head to the side as her weight carried her forward. She was just heavy enough, and he off balance enough, that it made him cant to the side, and he fell with a hard thud to the floor.

Scrambling like a madwoman hellbent on surviving—which is, honestly, what she was—Callie whipped around to plant one foot on each tusk, and grab hold of his trunk. She yanked the appendage, drawing a pained cry from him as it stretched beyond its limit.

Yelling from outside. The freed fighters were coming. She’d told them of her plan, and promised them the opportunity to deal with Mogul after they were freed. She was sure there were probably some other guards she hadn’t run into, and they may be giving the fighters some trouble, but had no doubt the warriors would prevail.

It was amazing what you could do when you were fighting for your life.

Case in point.

Callie gave a hard yank on the mammoth’s trunk. “Still surprised?”

Instead of answering, Mogul reached up to grab her feet, and lifted her to slam against the floor. She lost her grip on his trunk, and all the air rushed out of her lungs at the impact. As she lay there, stunned, he moved over her, wrapping his hands around her throat and squeezing hard.

“You’re all out of options,” he hissed, a wicked smile curling his lips. “Time to die.”

“Guess again.”

Mogul had time to look to his right and then he was hit with a blast of energy, sending him flying back to land on his giant desk, smashing it to bits. Callie coughed and gasped, rolling slightly before a hand was on her upper arm.

“C’mon,” Tom said, pulling her to her feet. A large weapon that looked like a portable cannon was slung over his other shoulder. “We gotta go.”

Tom practically dragged her toward an open portal, just as the door to Mogul’s office burst open, letting in some of the most dangerous, and angry, warriors he’d all but imprisoned below the arena.

She had just enough time to look back and watch them descend on the downed mammoth, right before the portal closed.

And that’s when she was hit in the middle by a worried echidna. She let out a strained grunt, going to her knees as she gathered him into her arms.

“Watch the ribs, kiddo,” she said through grit teeth. There were likely a few cracked ones, if she had to guess. Among other injuries.

Knuckles wrapped his arms around her, gathering her shirt into his fists. Tails must have removed the collar and shackles. Good.

“You should not have gone,” he said, his voice cracked and broken. “You should not have done that. He would have killed you.”

“Yeah, right,” she said, burying her face into the safe spot on his forehead, right before where his quills started. “Like I’m gonna just let him keep my boy. It’s like you don’t even know me, ki’kone. Honestly.”

He uttered a soft chuckle, gently nuzzling against her chest. The two stayed like that for a moment, before Maddie moved closer and gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

“We should get you two cleaned up,” she said, her voice soft. “Come into the house and I’ll take care of your injuries.”

Callie gave a little nod, before looking over at Tom. “Thanks for the save.”

The sheriff gave a wave of his hand. “Don’t mention it. Although,” he looked down at Tails, “I was a bit surprised at the power in that gun of yours.”

“Yeah,” Callie said, slowly pushing herself to her feet. “I was glad to have the stuff you made, but hoo boy, they packed a punch.”

Tails smiled shyly, pulling his fists to his chest. “But they did the trick, right?”

“We’re gonna have a chat about that stuff, later,” Tom said, giving the boy’s bangs a quick ruffle. “But yeah, they did the trick.”

“Man, I wish I could have helped!” Sonic said, rolling his head back. “I knew it was a bad idea to send you alone. I should have gone with you!”

“She needed stealth if this was gonna work, bud,” Tom said, crossing his arms. “You are anything but stealthy.”

Tails looked to the hedgehog with a shrug. “He’s got a point.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“C’mon, guys,” Maddie called as she headed toward the house. “Let’s get these two fixed up.”

The Wachowskis headed back into the house, Tails grilling Tom on how his rifle worked, when Knuckles gave Callie’s hand a little tug to hold her back. She turned to him, giving him a cocked eyebrow in question.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft. “For coming for me.”

She smiled, going to one knee with a soft grunt as her ribs protested.

“I will always come for you, baby.” She caressed his muzzle with a knuckle. “Always.”

Knuckles smiled, leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers. They shared a quiet moment, before limping into the house, eager to rest and begin healing.

[yellowkitkieran]

Birdie and Fox (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: On Kieran's birthday, you and your best friend spill your guts and admit to the elephant in the room.

“Happy birthday, Kieran.” Alongside the elaborately wrapped boxes, the small black one that fits in the palm of your hand feels insignificant, even with the red bow meticulously tied on the top. Your cheeks are on fire when you hold it out to Kieran, who's smile grows as he carefully plucks it from your hand. 

Harboring a crush on one of your best friends isn't an easy secret. Kieran’s naturally flirtatious personality means you toe the line each day, often pushing the limit between friends and something more. More than once you've convinced yourself that maybe Kieran feels something too. A lingering touch, a stare that catches on you a heartbeat too long, a compliment that leaves you stuttering. But he's Kieran and you're his friend, so surely you're imagining things. 

“Thanks darlin’, you didn't have to get me anything! I told ya before, I dinnae need any gifts. What is it?” Before he even opens it, Kieran wraps a strong arm around your shoulders for a tight hug. Every muscled inch of his side is pressed against your own. The black and white tiled kitchen presses in on you, which is the excuse you give yourself in order to justify leaning into him just a touch. 

“Don't get your hopes up, it's nothing special.” You're acutely aware of his heat, soaking into your bones through your fisherman's sweater. You recover after a few seconds and wrap your arms around his waist to quickly return his hug before stepping out of his embrace. 

“You know I had to get you something though,” you murmur. “Just open it- it's not as elaborate as some of the other things your teammates have gotten you, but hopefully you still like it?” 

Kieran's eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles again and carefully unties the ribbon. “I'll love it cause it's from you.”

“Suck up.”

Kieran curls the freed length of ribbon around his finger with care, like he doesn't want it to get swept away on the wind. Strange for him to want to keep something so small, but it's distinctly Kieran to do so. The little things mean the most to him. 

“You know I'll always love anything you get me. It's enough of a present that you could make it today, I'm glad your supervisor let you have an extra day off.” Kieran bumps you with his hip and laughs that musical laugh that you're borderline obsessed with. You could get more drunk on the sound than you could on top shelf bottles, and you'd enjoy it more, too. 

You roll your eyes, shifting from foot to foot. The anticipation is killing you; Kieran is purposely dragging this out. Is it because he's trying to embarrass you or is it because he simply doesn't want you to leave his side yet? No, he just loves to see you squirm. His head is tilted in that annoyingly adorable way as he watches you try and puzzle him out. Why is it that today of all days you've lost your senses around him this terribly? 

You shake the thoughts from your head and say, “just open it will you? The boss man could call me any second and demand I drop everything to head over.”

Kieran frowns, fingers stilling on the black lid of the box. “You wouldn't go, would you? Because I'd be upset if you left me here with this lot of animals, Birdie.”

“Ugh- Kieran come on!” You shove him, though the brick wall of muscle barely sways an inch. Now your frown mirrors the one on his full lips and you sigh. “Unless you're gonna pay my car note, I'd have to go in if he called, yeah. You can handle these animals-” you gesture out of the kitchen to encompass the few dozen lads, wives and girlfriends who mingle in the living room, “all on your own. You've done it before!”

“I would.” The words tumble out of Kieran in that deep timber that only surfaces when he's utterly serious. “You know I would. I barely get to see you anymore since the season started- your new job keeps you way too busy and I dinnae ken how it doesn't drive you as crazy as it drives me.”

You rub your hand over your arm, sighing through your nose. Honestly, you picked this job because the schedule doesn't line up well with Kieran's. And it does bother you to be apart from him for days at a time when you're so used to seeing him often. It's for the best though. At least that's what you tell yourself. It's become increasingly hard to be in his presence the last few months as your little crush has blossomed into something unbearable. Each time he laughs, your heart stops. When you catch a glimpse of his smile from across the room, you can't think straight for ages after. And his eyes, especially now when they're lit up by the setting sun filtering through the window above the sink, you aren't sure how you'll ever manage to deny him what he wants. 

So you listen to your heart for once instead of your brain and quietly murmur, “I'll try to be around more, Key. I promise.” Because you can't continue to allow your head to overrule what you truly want. Kieran makes you happy- and don't you deserve to be happy?

Seemingly satisfied with that answer for the moment, Kieran nods and moves almost imperceptibly closer to you as he finally pulls the lid from the box. You can't bring yourself to watch as he pulls a silver tie clip out, engraved with the date of his first goal for Arsenal on the front and his initials on the rear. Though simple, it cost you a pretty penny. You hadn't batted an eye however, because it was for Kieran, and for him you would gladly empty your pockets of every last coin. 

“Oh, this is lovely, Birdie. This is- it's perfect.” Kieran's hand closes over the bar and he tucks his closed fist to his chest as one might do with something precious they wish to protect at all costs. “Honestly love, I cannae find the words, it's just…” 

At this point, you feel like you're on fire. Your palms are clammy, and your throat is thick. “It's not that amazing. I mean, it's not the new Playstation Martin got you, that's for sure. It's just a dumb tie clip.” You can't bring yourself to tell him there's more. Hopefully he doesn't notice the thin purple band that's still nestled in the box and you can scurry off to your flat instead of making a bigger fool of yourself. 

“Anyone can buy me a Playstation. That's just money, Birdie.” There's that dumb nickname again- a holdover from when you were younger and he insisted on having codenames. Yours stuck around, even if you rarely used his. ‘Fox’ is saved for special occasions. Not only has the connotations behind such a name become something that's a bit harder to justify now, but you relish the pink that creeps up Kieran's neck when you use it.

You're snapped out of your head when Kieran presses his lips to your cheek. Your gasp is audible, you're positive- but Kieran either doesn't notice or doesn't care. “Thank you, Birdie. This is the best gift someone has ever gotten me.” You open your mouth to say something to brush off the remark when Kieran shakes his head. “It's the thought behind it that matters to me, not the money. Honest, I promise you that I'll cherish it.”

“You mean that, yeah?”

Kieran’s answer comes in the form of him clipping the silver bar onto the collar of his shirt, like he's proud to wear it even if it doesn't go with his outfit even the slightest bit. Seeing him wearing it so openly with that wild smile has you feeling a touch reckless.

Well, if he likes it that much… 

You swallow hard and try to ignore your racing heart. “There's uh… there's more in the box, Key. I um… made you something? It's nothing special, just something small.” You rush to get the words out as he notices the bracelet. It really is simple- nothing more than purple and white embroidery floss braided in a tight, durable weave. It's a technique you learned at sleepaway camp as a child, and something you still indulge in now and again. 

“Oh… you- you made this?” Kieran rubs the bracelet between his thumb and forefinger, the edge of his nail catching on a thread slightly. He smooths it over and hums quietly. 

For the first time in years, you aren't sure what to make of Kieran's reaction. Normally you can read him like an open book but now? You have no idea what's going on inside his head and it terrifies you. 

Kieran clears his throat and blinks rapidly. Then he holds out his wrist and says hoarsely, “can you put it on for me? Please.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Your fingers shake when you take the bracelet from him. You can't meet his eyes and fiddle with the button sewed at the end. “You don't have to wear it Kieran, I understand if-”

“Just put it on Birdie. Please.” 

“Alright…” As much as you try, you can't say no to him. So you take Kieran's hand, turning it over and fastening the bracelet around his wrist. The shade of lavender you chose suits his sun-kissed skin perfectly. You have it on him in seconds, as you thought ahead and made it easy to take on and off. Though you should drop his hand now that your task is complete, you run your thumb over the center of his palm and over his wrist, just below the bracelet. Kieran's pulse races when you press down slightly. Neither of you moves save to meet the other's eyes.

Though the party is in full swing mere steps away, it may as well be just the two of you in the room. The chatter of his teammates and friends fades to background noise. It's just a dumb bracelet, but Kieran looks at you like you've just handed him ten million pounds. Kieran squeezes your hand. You both speak at the same time then, talking over each other. 

“I think-”

“Maybe we should-” 

Kieran's laugh has your stomach in knots. You still haven't let go of his hand. More notably, Kieran has yet to pull away. 

“Kieran! Saka wants to cut the cake- if you're not here in thirty seconds he might eat the whole thing!” 

Martin's shout has the two of you separating as if on fire. You fist your hands in the skirt of your dress, finding anywhere to look other than Kieran's face. Tucked away as you are in the corner of Kieran's kitchen, it's understandable how caught up you'd gotten in him. Martin had simply brought you back to reality. 

“I'll be right there,” Kieran calls back. Then, quieter, Kieran adds, “Can we talk later?”

“You should probably go be with your friends, Fox. And I should go too- I think I need to head to work.” You turn and grab your bag off the counter, but the hand Kieran places on your waist freezes you in place before you can slip out the door past him. 

“You didn't think I was gonna let you get away that easy, did ya? Just stay with me. You and I both know your phone hasn't even gone off. You're just trying to escape because you're scared.” 

Kieran tips his head to meet your downcast eyes. He knows you too well for you to try and lie through your teeth; he would see right through it, so there's no use. “I'd really, really love it if you stayed, Birdie. Don't run off on me.” 

It's the tender, loving kiss that Kieran presses to your forehead that seals it for you. You've gone completely, utterly, wholly head over heels for your handsome Scotsman and there's no use denying it anymore. Somewhere along the way you've started to love him. You've come to terms with it now, because you weren't wrong. There's something there, it's not as one sided as you thought.

You nod, because clearly Kieran isn't leaving this room before you answer him. Your nod of agreement makes him smile, and he places a hand under your chin to have you look up at him properly. “We'll talk in a minute, yeah? I promise.”

That minute turns into an hour, though you don't hold Kieran accountable for it. You are far from his only friend, and it wouldn't be fair for you to monopolize his time. So you occupy yourself by chatting with the lads you know well enough to catch up with, and joking with the others you don't. Kieran keeps you close to him as much as possible, subtly tugging on the sheer sleeve of your dress to direct you to follow him, go there, shift closer to him. You don't mind, mostly because you're certain to bolt if Kieran lets you out of his sight. 

Once people begin to filter out, you make yourself busy with tidying up. Plates, cups and various silverware are stacked in the sink. Abandoned drinks are emptied and crumbs are swept up whilst Kieran plays host. Soon enough the music is turned off and Kieran is grabbing the broom from your hands. “You didn't have to do all this, you know. I was gonna clean up in the morning.”

“I wanted to make myself useful. I can't sit still, you know that!”

“Oh, I know. How about you make us some tea and I'll finish up in here? Because you've done enough for tonight, Birdie.”

The kettle boils long before you are ready to face Kieran again. Your head is a mess of jumbled thoughts that crisscross over one another like a bowl of spaghetti, all intertwined and tangled with no hope of unknowing them. The tea is steeped and cups are poured by the time Kieran joins you in the kitchen, and he grabs his favorite mug and takes a satisfying sip. 

“I've always said you know how to make the best cuppa in London.” Kieran grins whilst you stare into the surface of your own tea. Sensing your clouded mind, he sets one hand on the counter between you, less than an inch from your own. You watch out of the corner of your eye as his pinky moves millimeter by millimeter towards yours until his hand half covers yours. It is as much of an invitation as it is a test. 

You aren't going to be afraid anymore, that's what you told yourself. Today is a day for risks, for jumping in headfirst without knowing how deep the water is. No more second guessing, no more harboring secrets. Enough being scared and holding your cards close to your chest. 

“About earlier,” you start in a voice that is thankfully even, “did you… I mean, it seemed like you were ready to say something before Martin interrupted.”

“Oh, right. I was.” Kieran sets his mug aside and turns towards you. Instinct has you doing the same, your head tipped back slightly to meet those warm brown eyes you would love to sink into. “It's just…” Kieran sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. Picking at his nails has been a nervous habit of his for years, so when you see him indulging said habit, you gently take his hands in yours. If Kieran cannot be steady, then you will be. Where one is not strong, the other becomes their steadfast anchor. 

“Hey, you can tell me. Go on, be a good lad and find your words for me, Fox.”

Kieran's cheeks turn red in a hurry. “No helping matters when you call me that, Birdie! Look, all I'm sayin’ is I really care for you. As in… as in more than a friend. And if you don't, that's fine! We can pretend I dinnae say a word.”

“Kieran, for once in your life just be quiet.” Your free hand rests on the nape of his neck. Even as you're rising up on your tiptoes, Kieran can't keep his mouth shut though. 

“I cannae be quiet, not when you're looking at me like that- heywhatareyou-” 

Kieran finally shuts his damn mouth when your lips meet his. Neither of you wastes any time. Kieran holds your jaw like you're made of glass, tender and soft. You sigh wistfully and press your front to his. Kieran opens for you, allowing your tongue to sweep against his in a dance that feels so practiced, it feels like the hundredth time you've kissed him. The whole thing comes naturally, like you've gone into this knowing exactly what he likes and doesn't like. 

“Strawberry,” you murmur when you break to breathe. “You taste like strawberry.” You begin to giggle with your forehead resting on Kieran’s shoulder. “Why on earth do you taste like berries?! Have you been swiping my lip balm?”

You welcome the tight squeeze Kieran inflicts upon you, as well as the butterflies that seem intent on residing permanently in your stomach. “So what if I have? You would nae want to kiss a lad with rough lips, would you?” 

“Oh, absolutely not. I wouldn't have kissed you if they didn't look so soft!”

“Mhm, exactly. So don't complain and just be happy that I thought of you and your comfort!”

“I'm sure that's exactly what you were thinking when you stole it from my coat pocket. You knew I was gonna kiss you tonight, didja?”

Kieran's shoulder lifts in a shrug. The nonchalance of it has you smiling like a fool. He's so effortlessly pretty that you can't help but admire him. “One way or another that was my plan, darlin’. I wasnae letting you slip away from me.”

Soft kisses are placed on each of your cheeks before Kieran smiles at you again. “So? What do you say?” 

Your fingers pause their tracing on his chest. “What do I say about what? You haven't asked me anything.”

“Come on Birdie, you know what I mean.” Of course you do, but you want to hear him say it. You remain stoically silent, staring up at him with your best confused face as you wait for him to ask you properly. 

“You're really gonna make me say it?”

“Like you haven't been dreaming of asking me anyway. It's a formality but I expect nothing but pampering, Kieran.”

You are distracted by the curve of Kieran’s throat when he tips his head back and laughs. “You're adorable, you know that? Alright, I'll ask you properly sometime soon. But at least promise me that you won't go around snogging other lads in the meantime, yeah?”

Your thumb rubs off the smudge of your lipstick left behind on his lips. “I think that's a promise I can make, Fox. Easiest promise ever.”