#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

[tsunodaradio]

a good run ⛐ 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

♫ you swore that you loved me, but where were the clues? i died on the altar waiting for the proof.

ꔮ starring: lewis hamilton x ex-girlfriend!reader. ꔮ social media au. ꔮ includes: angst. silverstone race [merc!lewis], post-breakup dynamics, heavily inspired by taylor swift's so long, london. ꔮ commentary box: this one goes out to @binisainz, who matches my freak on so many levels. i love you (and i'm sorry). i promise to dedicate happier work for you in the near future. x 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

lewishamilton Silverstone weekend. 🏠🇬🇧 Send good vibes ~ Liked by olliebearman, francolapinto, and others

user1 IT'S SILVERSTONEEE LFG!!! user2 lock in g you got this ❤️🙌👏 georgerussell63 Best of luck mate 👊 ⤷ user3 great day to be a mercedes fan ⤷ user4 y'all act like they aren't co-drivers user5 is nobody going to talk about the elephant in the room ⤷ user6 wot m8 ⤷ user5 user6 isn't it hamilton's first time back in GB since. You Know ⤷ user7 user5 user6 OMG Just say it outright??? Since HIS BREAK UP.

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Hi, it's Lewis. I don't actually know if you still have my number, sooo. Should I still be introducing myself? from: +44 *** ***** ****** Anyway that's obviously not why I'm texting. I'm sure you know what this weekend is. from: +44 *** ***** ****** That's probably not how I should have started. I just mean to say I'm in London this week and I'd love if we could meet up. Coffee, maybe? Let me know ✌🏾

yourusername i'm just getting color back into my face / i'm just mad as hell 'cause i loved this place Liked by lewishamilton and others user8 youch that caption... 🤕 user9 OMG lewishamilton LIKED?! ARE THEY BACK TOGETHER ⤷ user10 Wasn't Lewis seen with someone else at Monaco??? user11 Can y'all please leave this poor girl alone. Lol. Being an ex-WAG is hard enough. gmz Hamilton's Former Beau Gets Cryptic Ahead Of Silverstone?! Link to read in our bio 🔗 ⤷ user11 yo gmz get a life maybe ⤷ user12 The link isn't working! user13 yourusername will you be at silverstone 🥺 we miss seeing you trackside, queen

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Hi, Lewis again. I'm not sure if you're getting my texts but they are going through so I assume they're still fine? This is a bit out of the blue but I saw some comments on your recent post. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I know when we broke up you said you wanted it mostly lowkey, so that's why we haven't really done much outside of that first press release. But I just want you to know that if you want me to say anything else about the people camping out on your page, I can. In a heartbeat from: +44 *** ***** ****** I mean, least I could do right? Haha from: +44 *** ***** ****** Would still love to grab coffee with you. Or anything, really. Is Shack-Fuyu still any good out there in Soho? I remember how much you loved that place. Hope to hear back from ya

Excerpt from TMZ's Hamilton's Former Beau Gets Cryptic Ahead Of Silverstone?!

... The long-term couple officially headed to Splitsville last year, confirmed via an Instagram story Lewis posted! The story, which featured a black and white photo of the former WAG, bore the heartbreaking caption:

yourusername and I are two best friends who have decided to part ways as a couple. We had a good run of six years that I personally would not trade for anything in the world. yourusername remains to be one of the best things that has ever happened to me, bar none. Please respect our privacy during this time; we do not intend to comment any further on this matter. Thank you.

The announcement came as a shock to the entire grid; the two had just bought a London apartment months prior, sparking rumors that wedding bells were on the horizon.

A source with direct knowledge tells TMZ that Hamilton initiated the breakup, citing plans to focus on his career. The Brit reportedly wasn't very enthusiastic about the split despite being the one to pull the plug; why, we'll never know. A man of his word, Hamilton has remained tight-lipped on the details of the split.

Looks like this is just another symptom of being on the top of the world. Can't be a champion and in love! — FIN.

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Silverstone won't be the same without you. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I'll stop now. I'm sorry. I really am.

to: +44 *** ***** ****** race safe, lewis. Seen

lewishamilton 945 days since the last win and it's finally come home. There's no crowd that deserves this more. Means so much. Silverstone, I'm all yours. Always and forever. Liked by mercedesamgf1, yourusername, and others

user14 I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE user15 The Greatest Of All Time 💜🐐 user16 not to be that person, but yourusername liked this post and now i'm sobbing ⤷ user17 mama y papa :( scuderiaferrari ❤️ ⤷ user18 BRO CHILL WE STILL GOT TIME

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Did you see? to: +44 *** ***** ****** :) to: +44 *** ***** ****** through goes hamilton. from: +44 *** ***** ****** Through goes. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I did more than race safe. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I raced for you.

yourusername ★ Only people on your Close Friends list will be able to see this story.

Seen by yourfriend, lewishamilton, and others

from: +44 *** ***** ****** Where to? from: +44 *** ***** ****** Actually, you don't have to answer that. You don't owe me anything. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I apologize for the way I've behaved this whole weekend. I suppose I just missed you. from: +44 *** ***** ****** *Miss you. Still. Sorry. from: +44 *** ***** ****** The old landlord actually told me about you moving out. I didn't know how to broach the topic with you or if I was allowed to. But I guess this is it, huh? I'm going from knowing you're in England to not knowing where you are at all. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I suppose I'll have to do my absolute best in every race now. Just in case you're at that one. from: +44 *** ***** ****** I'm running out of things to say.

to: +44 *** ***** ****** take care of yourself, lewis. from: +44 *** ***** ****** You, too.

+44 *** ***** ****** Maybe: Lewis

Block this Caller

You will not receive phone calls, messages, or Facetime from people on the block list. Block Contact

For so long, London Had a good run A moment of warm sun But I'm not the one So long, London ⛐

[thewinter-eden]

You Live Like This?

images are mine (except middle chan pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. Chan's ATE pcs are my inspo this time.

Series master list PART 2 INFO

pairing: Bang Chan x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes, one shot summary: home invader!Chris breaks into your home one night to rob you blind, only to realize you’re too poor to rob.

warnings: knives, threatening behavior, mention of rape (nothing in actuality), mention of murder (nothing in actuality), light violence (no harm), swearing, mentions of Carry-On (Netflix), mentions of cheating, fear, terrified but exhausted reader, attempted kiss (no force), satirical plotline. chan fluff.

word count: 5k

Your fingers are curled around the handle of the pot on the stove when you hear it. The slightest click, the faintest ruffle of air. It’s a familiar sound, the gentle push of your front door closing when you’re trying to be quiet.

You freeze, heart pounding, and try to mentally walk yourself back through the past couple of hours. You’d come home from work, still reeling from the latest verbal onslaught from your (former) boss, and kicked the door shut behind you. Had it closed? Had it latched?

It hadn’t.

It must not have.

One of the dogs must have just pushed it closed.

You push the pot off the burner and turn the stove off, smoothing your hands down the front of your sweats. Baited breath, shoulders tensed, you cross the kitchen and poke your head into the entryway, peering through the shadows. You have every light in the chilly house off except for the kitchen, because you’re finally settling down to watch a long awaited film, and you like to set the scene with a dark house.

But that means your entryway is pitch black, and to your slowly adjusting eyes, the coatrack looks like a person’s silhouette.

Before you can convince yourself otherwise, your hand snaps out and hits the light switch.

Flickering yellow light floods the small hall, revealing nothing but your coatrack, the tiny side table that bears the weight of your house keys and the mail, and your kicked off work heels, still laying messily on the inside rug.

Your eyes flick to the other doorway in the hall, the one leading to your living room, but it’s still dark and quiet, so you flick the lights back off.

Dinner is a painfully cheap meal of instant ramen with an egg cracked on top and half a sausage chopped up into the noodles. You don’t bother plating it, rather setting the sauce pan that it cooked in onto a large oven mitt on the table, right next to that damn cardboard filing box.

Retrieving a pair of chopsticks, you settle into your chair and stir the noodles through the eggy broth, unable to stop the heavy sigh the swirls steam directly into your face. Cheap ramen is going to make many appearances in the next couple of months.

It’s not the heat or the spice that brings tears to your eyes as you fight down a mouthful, but rather the weight of your last few days. And, to top it all off, the email from the real estate office that you found waiting for you when you got home a few hours ago, haphazardly dropping the final straw on the proverbial camel’s back.

There’s a thump from your living room, and then the rattle of your dog’s favorite bell toy rolling across the floor.

You grab a napkin and dab your lips, reaching for your bottled water. “Mira,” Your voice fills the empty house. Your oldest dog, thirteen, likes to use the obnoxious rattling of that toy to inform you that you’ve forgotten her dinner time. “Bring it here, Mira.”

The next series of noises makes your heart stop.

The sound of both of your dogs jumping off your bed upstairs, and the absolute elephant stampede of them skittering down the stairs.

Your eyes slide to the dark living room doorway, mind racing as Mira and Pip come skating across the kitchen floor, both trembling excitedly at the prospect of dinner.

You’re out of your chair in a second, ramen forgotten, tripping over both dogs in your lurch for the living room. Your hand reaches through the doorway and slaps the light switch, illuminating the room. Your tv is on, paused where you left it at the opening title of the movie you’re about to watch, but your eyes are pinned to the furniture—the couch and recliner, which both face away from you.

Mira and Pip are swarming around your legs, unbothered by whatever has captured your attention, their wet noses bumping your hips and hands. They want food, and they’re not impressed by how distracted you are, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they’re confiscating the rest of your ramen.

A rush of confidence hits you out of nowhere and you surge into the living room, turning to face down the furniture.

Both empty.

The dog toy is on the floor under the coffee table, innocently silent.

It’s close enough under the lip of the table that you realize it must have been teetering on the edge and finally fallen off just in time to mess with your head.

The breath you let out is loud enough to stir the dogs up again, and Pip snags the hem of your sweater playfully.

“Alright, alright.” Your fright is forgotten as you lead your girls into the laundry room, lowering your voice to try to calm their steadily rising excitement. “Here’s your food, quit your nagging.” You ruffle their ears affectionately and step out, closing them into the laundry room to eat.

They don’t steal from each other, but Pip likes to run between the laundry room and the living room between bites, zooming down the hall and bouncing off the couch, too hyper to chill and eat unless you lock her into the room.

You return to your half-eaten ramen and realize that you’re not hungry.

A second passes as you contemplate dumping the rest of it into the trash, but you decide against it. God knows if you’re going to be able to manage dinners like this in the coming weeks, and you can’t bring yourself to waste the food you have.

But just as you’re sitting down, you hear a creak.

You know that creak.

You know your house.

It’s the fourth step of your staircase, the creak that sounds when you put your weight on the left edge.

The chopsticks fall out of your hand. “Hello?” Your voice booms before you’ve realized you’ve released it, and your eyes skate your countertops. There’s an immersion blender in it’s stand next to your toaster, and it’s heavier than the bamboo spoon that sits next to it, so you grab the handheld appliance.

“Hello?” You don’t really mean to say it again, but you can’t think of anything else to say. What, like a murderer is going to respond? Like they’re going to say, ‘it’s just me, looking for a place to hide in your bedroom!’

You flip every light switch that you pass between your kitchen and the stairs, the cold plastic of the blender pressing painfully into the bones of your hand. You’re holding it so tight that it’s trembling.

There’s no one on the stairs.

As you make your way up, you experimentally put your food to the left edge of the fourth step. Maybe you’d heard wrong. Maybe your brain was messing with you. But as you sink your weight down, that same old creak groans from the wood like it’s mocking you.

Heart hammering, plummeting to the rock bottom of your stomach, you bolt up the rest of the stairs. If someone’s in your house, you’re not just going to give them time to hide by creeping slowly up your own staircase.

Your entire house illuminates in your wake, until there’s not a single shadow left. You poke your head into every room—your room, the guest room, the bathrooms, even the linen closet.

There’s no one.

You lower your battle blender and sag against the wall in relief.

It’s the stress. Burning the candle at both ends for the past week and unsuccessfully attempting to roll with the numerous unprovoked punches has got your brain all strung out and playing tricks on you.

One by one, the lights in your cold house shut off as you double back on yourself and return to the kitchen.

No more interruptions.

You’ll eat the rest of your (now cold) dinner, wash your chopsticks and your sauce pan, and then you’ll settle into your recliner with a cup of cocoa and finally watch that movie.

The noodles are mushy in your mouth, the egg rubbery.

A ragged, frustrated sob scrapes past your teeth as you hunch over the pan.

You’re so busy trying to convince yourself that your dinner isn’t gross, that the noodles don’t look like the worms from that horror movie you watched last week, that you really shouldn’t throw it on the floor and cry, that you don’t even notice the soft footsteps of the man entering your kitchen behind you.

You don’t notice the kitchen knife that glints in his hand, or the way his eyes alight on your cellphone where you abandoned it on the counter.

You don’t notice him slip it into his pocket and settle his eyes on you.

In fact, you don’t notice him at all until his breath is on your ear, returning your greeting from earlier. “Hello.”

Both chopsticks fly out of your hand as you dive away from the voice in your ear. The shriek you utter deafens you, and the table scrapes the floor when you try to use it to push yourself away.

Hands clamp down on your arms, immobilizing you completely.

There’s a moment where your brain blanks out, and then it’s filling with answers and questions. You’re trying to cope, all whilst being held down in your own kitchen. Maybe it’s your friend from work? Maybe it’s Woosung, but would he really come back like this? Maybe it’s your neighbor—anything to manifest an answer other than the truth.

There’s a stranger in your kitchen.

There’s a stranger in your house.

His grip tightens as you thrash and scream, and suddenly you’re yanked back against your chairback and his mouth is pressed to your ear again.

“Stop screaming.”

That’s when you see the knife. It’s in the corner of your eye, reflecting light from your overhead onto your face, and you realize that he’s holding your left arm with a thumb and two fingers because the other two are gripping a blade from your knife block.

You have a damn knife block.

Why the hell did you run upstairs with an immersion blender when you have a block full of knives?

Your mouth clamps shut.

The grip on your arms loosen and your chair is suddenly being jerked away from the table.

You use the second of freedom to bolt out of your seat, arms reaching for the counter where you’d left your phone.

It isn’t there.

Before you can redirect your efforts to searching for a weapon, a hand grips your wrist and spins you around so forcefully that your shoulder twinges.

You see him now.

He looms over you, and he’s everything you’ve ever feared finding in the dark shadows of your house. His broad shoulders are cloaked in a huge black hoodie, black gloves covering his hands, a mask covering his mouth and nose and his hood drowning the rest of his face in darkness.

In the next second, the man swathed in darkness lunges at you and you crumple, screaming.

Your knees hit the floor with a painful crack, your arms whipping up to protect your face, but then he’s on you, impossibly fast.

“I told you to stop screaming.”

He wrenches your arms around behind your back, and you feel something rough wrap around your wrists—a kitchen towel binding your hands together.

When your hands are secured behind your back, his gloved hand claps over your mouth, the movement crushing you back against his chest.

Terror claws at your heart. Every muscle in your body trembles as the man pants against you and your eyes squeeze shut.

He’s going to kill you.

Or he’s going to rape you.

Or he’s going to rape you and then kill you.

“Are you going to shut up?” His voice rasps in your ear, his fingers still pressing harshly into your face.

You nod.

He waits before he lets go, as though testing the tension in your body, and then his hand falls away and he pushes you off of his chest.

The man rises and moves away from you, leaving you to sag against the kitchen cabinets as a swell of emotion leaves your body in a rush. He’s left you on the tile floor, not bothering to even look at you once he’s back on his feet.

You pull your legs under you to sit cross-legged, curiosity suddenly overwhelming the fear that has you in a vice.

He’s at your table, ignoring your pot of ramen and the cardboard box, gloved fingers picking up your laptop and flipping it over to see the manufacturer’s stickers. Then he slides the laptop into the backpack slung across his shoulders and your heart sinks for what feels like the hundredth time.

When he turns to your expensive Nikon camera next, you can’t help but let your head droop in defeat.

Of course you’re being robbed.

After everything this week already, why not?

Might as well put the icing on the cake and steal everything you own.

You almost hope he decides to kill you on his way out, so at least then you don’t have to think about waking up tomorrow with nothing at all to your name.

After sliding the professional grade camera gently into his bag, the intruder turns on his heel to reach for your purse hanging on the back of one of your chairs, and his eyes fall on your dejected form.

Shoulders slumped, head bowed, tears free falling to plop a little mascara-swirled splatter pattern into your white socks.

He puts the knife down and snatches up the purse.

A second later, though, he’s looking at you again.

He’s seen your entire house. He knows you’re struggling—from the empty living room with nothing but old furniture and a TV from 2018, to your bedroom with your empty jewelry box, to the entryway table stacked high with unpaid bills, to the empty driveway and lack of car keys—literally the only thing he’s going to get away with tonight is your relatively nice laptop (last year’s model) and the camera that probably costs the same as a new motorcycle.

Your empty house is so pathetic that he almost feels bad for taking the two electronics.

They’re literally all you have, if he doesn’t count the Walmart-brand clothing hanging in your closet and the dirty fast food uniform crumpled in the floor of your bedroom.

From where you sit on the floor, you take in a deep breath, sniffle once, and close your eyes.

A fresh round of tears splash down on your socks.

“Are you…okay?” He doesn’t know why he asks, or why he thinks he’ll get any answer other than some insult regarding his assault on your person, but he can’t help it.

Your body sways like his words have had a physical impact. “Of course I’m not fucking okay.” You hiss, and turn your head away from him.

He unzips your wallet and thumbs through the bills. There’s not a lot of money, and you don’t have any credit cards. “I could be the last person you ever talk to,” He says absently, and he’s joking, but you don’t know that. “You might as well get it all out now.”

He hears your head smack into the kitchen cabinet just before it all comes out in a devastated wail. “I just wanted to watch this stupid movie. I’ve been waiting for two weeks for it to come out so I could watch it with Woosung—”

Your boyfriend, he assumes.

“But two days ago he decided to fuck my best friend instead—”

Your ex boyfriend, he corrects himself.

“And then I got laid off because my boss found out that three quarters of his workforce is going to try to get unionized, and I already wasn’t getting paid enough to pay my bills so I had to get a second job in fast food even though I had to sell my car and the realtor is coming to look at the house tomorrow—”

He cuts you off mid-sob. “Which movie?”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

He’s now leaning against your table, fingers playing with the edge of the cardboard box that he now realizes is full of the contents of your desk, still unpacked because you clearly had to go collect your things earlier today. His backpack is on the table next to your pot of ramen, your purse still hanging on your chair with your wallet still inside.

Between the hood and the face mask, you see his eyebrows lift. “Which movie have you been waiting for?”

Your face screws up in confusion, tears and snot dripping off your chin, and your eyes dart to the living room. “It…it’s called Carry-On. On Netflix.”

The man follows your gaze, thinking for a long second, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “Alright, sure. I’m down.”

Fear and confusion battle it out in your chest until you’re sure you’re having a stroke. He wants to watch a movie with you? In the middle of his robbery? “I can’t watch a movie with you.”

His face swings back around to you. “Why not?”

He sounds so genuinely curious (and a little bit offended) that you have to remind yourself to stop gaping at him.

“Because…you…you’re robbing me.” Gaze darting significantly to his backpack full of the only remnants of your livelihood, you find yourself having an even harder time understanding this turn of events than you had when he first appeared behind you.

The man lets out a scoff, head canting back as though you’ve cracked a joke. “And you’re an expert on robbing procedure?” A huffs a short laugh and tosses his hood off with a quick swipe of his hand.

Dark curls burst into view.

As he reaches for his face mask, your feet kick out on reflex and you’re suddenly fighting the stiffness in your spine to wildly turn your body away from him. Dozens of episodes of the true crime podcast you listen to every day come to mind, ringing through your skull at the implication of seeing this man’s face, and the fear sets in like a poison. “No, please don’t take your mask off—I swear I won’t report any of this—you don’t have to kill me—”

He cuts off your desperate pleas abruptly. “Babygirl, shut up and go push play.”

The completely unexpected pet name, combined with the feeling of him releasing your hands from the dish towel binding has you falling utterly still, mouth silent. His thumb and forefinger grasp your chin and pull your head around, and you’re faced with a young man and his dimpled smile that grins at you like you’re his best friend.

It’s weird. It’s all wrong.

“What are you going to do to me?” You whisper, edging as slowly as you can out of his grasp.

You can’t see his knife anywhere, but that doesn’t mean that this man with his huge shoulders and massive hands can’t crush you without the use of a weapon.

“I’m going to force you to watch a movie with me.”

Your face blanches at his choice of words and he leans back, exasperated. “Not like that. Go into the living room. You got any more of that?” He nods to the cocoa packet on your counter, next to the hot water kettle.

His hands on your elbows bring you to your feet, and you point shakily to the drawer beneath the counter. “In the drawer.”

The next thing you know, you’re sitting on the couch with a mug of cocoa, your robber sitting on the other end with his own cup, and you can’t even process the scenes on the TV in front of you. You’ve been wanting to watch this stupid movie for two full weeks, and now you don’t even acknowledge it.

Your limbs are as stiff as steel, your heart pounding obnoxiously in your ears, your body leaning as far away from the man who’s introduced himself as Chris as possible. Your eyes are pinned on him, memorizing the slope of his nose and the cut of his jaw and the curve of his eyes.

You tell yourself it’s to get a description for the police, but as the movie goes on and he just keeps to himself and comments on the scenes, you start to relax. It takes half an hour, but you finally allow yourself to move enough to take a sip from the cocoa in your hands.

It warms your insides, fighting against the chill of your house, and lowers your defenses ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Chris notices your eyes on him and he looks at you, one eyebrow quirked. “You don’t like the movie?”

You don’t even remember what you’re watching.

“Are you going to take my TV?”

His eyes disappear into crescents as his face breaks into a smile. “Babygirl, your TV is shit.”

There’s that pet name again.

Heat floods into your cheeks but you tell yourself it’s because he’s identified the fact that you haven’t been able to afford to replace your ancient television, even though the apps frequently crash. He’s going to kill you later when Netflix crashes and you have to get up and unplug the TV for ten seconds to make it work again.

Oh, God, he might actually kill you.

But he just goes back to commenting on the movie. “I can’t look at her without thinking Disney channel.”

You’re thinking about his backpack in the kitchen, wondering if you can get up and steal your stuff back and hide it without him noticing. You wonder where your phone went, if you left it on the bus or if you actually did leave it on the counter—which means Chris has it.

The knife he grabbed from your block is probably on the table, too. You could hide it, or take it for yourself. You just have to tell him you want a drink from the kitchen and get up—

You have a drink. It’s the cocoa he made for you.

Maybe he poisoned it? Roofied it?

But you watched him make it. You already know it’s safe.

“Did you see him in the Kingsman movies?” He asks, and your eyes flick to the screen.

You nod absently, humming a noncommittal yes as you sip from your cup.

Chris cups his own mug in both hands, his focus never leaving the TV screen. “I can’t take Jason Bateman seriously after Identity Thief.”

You’re so confused you could cry. “Why are you doing this?” You burst out, tears flooding your eyes again. “You attacked me and tried to rob me and now you’re drinking my cocoa and watching my Netflix?”

His gaze swings to you again, eyes wide with surprise. He watches you, huddled in the corner of your own couch with your knees crushed to your chest, literally shaking from head to toe, and his features soften into a smile. “I can’t do it,” He admits.

You sniffle, blinking at him.

“It’d be like that scene from the Disney Robin Hood, when the sheriff takes the kid’s birthday money. God, I still can’t watch that without tearing up.” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling in remembrance and then looks back at you, his lips cutely pursed.

No, not cutely.

This man tried to rob you.

He’s not cute.

“So, you’re not robbing me?”

He shakes his head with a shrug. “Nah. But don’t worry about it, your neighbors have some good shit. I’ll hit them next week, as per my original plan. And I was never going to hurt you, by the way. That’s way too high profile for me. I like to skate under the radar.” He makes a sweeping gesture with his hand, miming his skating under the radar. After a moment, he brings his mug to his lips and muttered, “Boy did I fail tonight.”

You let your feet drop to the floor, turning to face him as some of the tension releases from your muscles. “Don’t do that—you can’t do that. Don’t rob my neighbors.”

He raises an eyebrow at you over the lip of his cup. “I will rob your entire neighborhood before I put on a uniform like the one you’ve got upstairs.”

You gasp, the creak on your stairs returning to mind. “I knew it—you were upstairs!”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah. And I was soooo scared of you and your stirrer stick thing. Thanks for putting your dogs away for me—made my snooping much easier.”

You’ve forgotten about your girls, but they can wait. “It’s an immersion blender.” You snap. “And I could have blended the hell out of you.”

He fakes a shiver and makes a mocking noise of fear. “You sure we shouldn’t be watching a horror movie?”

“My life is a horror movie.” You shoot back, smacking your mug down on the side table. Returning to your earlier point, you turn back to him and almost find yourself leaning closer. “Please don’t rob my neighborhood, Chris. The people next door have me over for dinner on Sundays and the family down the street helps me with the yard work and home repairs.”

After a moment, he relents with a thoughtful nod. “Alright fine, I’ll rob your ex then.”

You can’t help the wicked pleasure that brings you. “I suppose that’s alright. I have his address in my phone somewhere.” Your eyebrows lift as you say it, hoping he’ll get the hint.

He does.

Chris gives a little jump, like he’d totally forgotten, and then digs in the pockets of his joggers. “Oh, right. Here. I’m hoping you won’t call the cops now that we have a pact.” He bobs his eyebrows at you.

You take your phone from him and roll your eyes, finally settling into your couch with little concern for the danger from earlier. “Scare him like you scared me and we have a deal.” You can just imagine Woosung huddled in some corner of his apartment, screaming his rotten little heart out while Chris looms over him with a knife. “But, like, don’t kill him.”

Chris deflates a little, like he’d been interested in trying something new, but he jabs out a hand anyway. “Deal.”

You clap your hand into his and find yourself smiling.

When you don’t pull away immediately, Chris searches your face with soft eyes. “He really fucked you up, didn’t he?”

The memory from a few days ago, finding your boyfriend of two years in your bed with your best friend comes crashing back down on you. You’re so busy fighting the rush of tears that you don’t notice that your playful handshake has turned into Chris cradling your hand in his. “He said it was a mistake.” You sniffle and turn your eyes to the TV.

Chris gives your hand a squeeze. “Me thinking I could find anything worth stealing in this house was a mistake.” He grins widely when you take the bait and slap his chest with your free hand.

It’s way flirtier than you were intending.

“He’s an asshole.” Chris says, and it helps.

“Yeah.” You agree. “They both are. You are, too, kinda.”

Chris gapes at you, actually offended. “I’m the only one who showed up for you this week, how can you say that?”

“You also tied me up and held me at knifepoint, which is definitely asshole behavior.” You realize your hand is still in his, and you pull away, but your shocked smile doesn’t leave your face.

How is this happening? This man broke into your house and you’re sitting on your couch, watching a movie and flirting with him? You must be insane.

You’re so deeply lost in your mind, questioning your own sanity, that you don’t notice how close he’s leaning to you until his breath hits your ear.

It’s a parallel of earlier, but this time the heat his closeness carries is an entirely different sort.

Your heart pounds wildly in your throat and you lean away, gawking at him. “Woah, pump the brakes, Klepto.”

He falls back against your couch, a defeated smile curling his lips as he laughs at himself. “I thought we were having a moment?”

“I’m not kissing you after you broke into my house.” You refute weakly, crossing your arms over your chest. You have to do something to put distance between the two of you, because the way Chris is looking at you is putting a fluttering sensation in the pit of your stomach.

“Babygirl, the only broke in here is you.”

Your jaw hits the floor. The third use of that damn pet name is getting to you. “I can’t believe I’m being poverty shamed by the guy who steals stuff for a living.”

He practically squeaks with laughter, the movie finally forgotten. “If I go outside and knock, can I kiss you then?” Chris leans in close again, but lets himself be shoved away by your hand on his chest.

“Why don’t you try it?” Your cheeks are on fire.

Chris sighs, abandoning his efforts and leans back into his own space. “You’re not going to let me back in, are you?”

The movie fills the silence. You’re finally comfortable enough that you want to ask if you can put it back to the beginning and watch it over again, but you don’t.

It feels like only moments later that you’re being gently shaken awake, a hard warmth under your cheek.

“You’re falling asleep on me babygirl. Why don’t you go to bed?” Chris’s voice asks, and you realize you’re slumped over on his shoulder.

This man broke into your house, attacked you in your kitchen, all but called you pathetically broke, and now you’ve fallen asleep on him.

Your life is utterly wrecked.

“Don’t have a bed. I sleep here.” You mumble.

Chris freezes. “What?”

He was upstairs earlier, looking for valuables. How did he miss a detail like that?

“Sold my bedroom set,” You say. “Bought groceries and paid the mortgage. I sleep on the couch.”

Chris is suddenly scooting out from under you, carefully lowering your head to rest on the couch pillow. “Alright, go to sleep then. I’ll turn the heater on before I go, where’s your thermostat?” He smooths a hand over your hair, glancing around the walls.

“I had my heating turned off,” You explain sleepily. “Just blankets.”

Chris can’t believe he tried to rob you, and he further can’t believe how much it bothers him that you can’t afford basic necessities. “Babygirl, you can’t live like this.”

You’re already asleep.

When you wake up in the morning, huddled on the couch under an obnoxious pile of blankets, you find your laptop and your camera on the kitchen table, and Chris’s phone number scrawled onto a sticky note on your coffee table.

‘Had a great time last night. Coffee later? Also, text me your ex’s address. - Chris.’

PART 2 INFO

Hope you guys liked it! Comments make my day :)

@whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @estella-novella

[kumkaniudaku]

Me and Your Mama

Summary: Terry and Patrice learn more about their love through life changing news on New Year’s Eve.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4,436

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy

Recommended Reading: Spoiled, Caught

Author's Note: We're at the end of Ficmas! Thanks for all the requests sprinkled in the middle. This has been a fun little ride and hope you feel fulfilled at the end of this one. Stay safe this New Year's Eve. See you in 2025.

Several mornings passed between Christmas, New Year's Eve, and their five-hour drive up north with no attempt to confirm Patrice's suspicion. She'd purposely avoided all conversation about it, preferring to push the thought to the back of her mind until she and Terry could no longer tiptoe around the growing elephant in the room. 

Moments after luggage was rolled into their downtown D.C. hotel room, the pair braced themselves for punishing winds and bitter cold in search of the nearest convenience store to pick up comfort snacks and three different pregnancy tests. Terry did the honors of selecting what he thought were the best options based on his research, while Patrice forced herself to take an interest in potato chips and snack cakes a few aisles over. 

She couldn't bring herself to engage. Talking about it, whatever it was, would make the dreams more real. And if what she dreamed wasn't true, she didn't know how she could pretend that all was well while her heart chipped and shattered inside her chest. So, she stayed away and let Terry put on his brave face for the both of them.

In the bright convenience store nearly empty as people prepared for a night out to celebrate the incoming new year, they felt like children caught doing something wrong instead of an adult couple on the precipice of discovering what the rest of their lives could look like. 

Terry mumbled through passive small talk with the smiling cashier, staying just vague enough in his answers to avoid the glaring topic of the day before ushering Patrice out of the automated sliding doors and back toward their home for the next few nights. 

Once they returned, neither of them spoke. Patrice slowly unpacked plastic bags filled with items, leaving the slender white boxes for last. 

She drug a fingernail across the box on top, then looked at Terry, who couldn't take his eyes off her. "I think I'm gonna pee by myself if that's okay." 

"That's cool," he answered, offering support with a weak smile. "I'll be out here if you need me."

Most of Patrice's time in the bathroom was spent staring at her reflection in the mirror. She slowly lifted the hem of her thick, cashmere sweater to examine her stomach, twisting side to side for the best angle. Nothing of note. The small bump that did exist was no different than any other day. At least, that's what she told herself as she ran her fingers along the slight curve. 

Unfolded instructions littered the bathroom counter, each saying a variation of the same thing: Pee, wait, have a minor panic attack, then check the results. Or something like that. Patrice's eyes were starting to cross from information overload. 

On the other side of the door, Terry stared out of the large bedroom window at nothing in particular as thoughts quickly ran in and out of his brain. He'd never considered being anybody's dad unless Patrice was on the other side of the fantasy. Maybe once or twice when other partners brought it up, but nothing concrete. Nothing this real, nothing that felt this right. 

Sure, it was quick. And sure, it was probably not a great idea to introduce a child into a relationship that was only recently recognized by the state as a legal union. Any boy, girl, or otherwise would be dropped into a marriage not much older than them and cared for by two humans still trying to understand life. But they'd be loved. They'd be showered in affection from sun up to sun down. He had no doubt about it. What greater joy than to hold a child that was half him and half the woman he loved with every fiber of his being? 

But he was only one part of the equation. Ultimately, Patrice was the deciding factor. Patrice and a collection of three pregnancy tests two minutes away from unveiling their fate.

The toilet flushing made Terry blink back into reality from daydreams of diaper changes and kindergarten graduations. He caught a glimpse of himself in the window's faultless glass before turning in enough time to see Patrice poke her head out of the bathroom for his attention. 

She fiddled with her fingers and rocked on her heels. "You can come in if you want." 

He nodded, careful not to appear too eager or unconcerned, and moved to join her for the wait. 

The soft click of the door closing sealed them into the room together. Terry silently shuffled into the room past Patrice to sit on the closed toilet lid and nervously ran his palm down the back of his head. He took a deep breath before looking over at Patrice, who'd gone back to obsessing over how her stomach looked beneath her clothes. 

"Hey," he spoke in a sweet, low tenor to avoid startling her. She looked over, eyes shining from suppressed tears, and found him looking at her with round doe eyes. He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. "Come here, sweetheart." 

Sweetheart. To Patrice's soul, the word felt like warm chicken soup on a winter evening. She could never question how Terry felt about her. He'd been there to offer comfort through a tumultuous, frightening week. Feeling his large hands grip her waist to pull her between his legs grounded her in the right there and then. Regardless of the results, he'd still be around to kiss away the bad times and laugh with her through the good. 

Patrice lightly placed her cold hands on his face while he looked up at her, waiting for anything she decided to say. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. "What if it's negative?" 

"Well. We'll go out and drink champagne all night like we planned. I hate the taste on its own but know I'll love it on your lips when we kiss at midnight. Then we move on. Maybe have a conversation that we should've had a long time ago on the drive home." 

"And if it's positive?" 

Terry took a deep breath, allowing the words to come out in a mind-clearing huff. "We skip the champagne and keep the kiss. But we have to celebrate either way, baby. Time's gonna pass no matter what." 

For all his mixed bag of positive and negative traits, Terry's sneaky optimism was Patrice's favorite. A short, airy laugh came through Patrice's nostrils as she tossed her head back and groaned. 

"You're always so sure of things and I'm sitting here about to throw up my lunch." 

Terry rubbed his hands up and down the back of her legs with a smile. "I'm not sure of shit, really," he laughed. "I just know that we'll be alright in the end. This Gunny I was close with told me everything goes back to baseline. Don't sweat the bullshit in between. So, that's what I'm doing. Waiting it out."

"That doesn't scare you? The waiting?" 

"Sometimes." A quick glance down convinced him to slowly lift Patrice's sweater with one hand and hold it in place while he pressed feather-soft kisses across her abdomen. Kisses for her? Kisses for who he hoped lived inside? He didn't know. But he spoke against the area to communicate with whoever would listen. "But waiting always brought me something better than what I had. How could I not trust the process when I have the result standing right in front of me?" 

A rush of emotions broke the levees holding Patrice's tears back, sending a wet stream sliding down her hot cheeks. Terry wiped her face with the back of his hand in silence, the gentleness in his care working double time to soothe whatever thoughts and feelings were coming forward for her. 

When the short bout of crying had ceased, and she was left with nothing but her husband, a timer ticking down to mere seconds and a looming result hanging over their heads, Patrice ran her thumb along Terry's cheek and smiled down at him. 

"I love you more than I ever thought I could, but we gotta slow down, Terrence. I'm worn out." 

Terry answered her joke with a low chuckle that bounced his shoulders and spread his smile wide. "I'm with you, baby. That should be our New Year's resolution." 

"Either that or finally getting around to that budget we've been talking about. Might have to add a baby fund line item." 

"We got it. Don't worry." Terry assured before kissing the inside of her wrist. "Whatever happens, we're okay. Gimme a kiss."

Sweet affection in the face of potentially life-altering change offered some sense of normalcy as they allowed the world to turn into abstract concepts with shared, tender smooches. 

They'd almost forgotten what brought them into the bathroom until the harsh trill of Patrice's phone timer ripped through space and time, again placing them smack dab in the middle of the present. 

When Terry reached to grab one of the tests after silencing the noise, Patrice jolted forward to grab his wrist. "Okay, wait!" she panted. "I-I'll grab one, and you'll grab one. Then we'll do the third one together. Does that make sense?"

"Alright. Which one do you want?" 

"I don't fuckin' know! Choose for me! I can't do this, TJ!" 

Terry wore a crooked smile as he calmly plucked two tests from their containers and placed the digital option into Patrice's palm face down. He took the analog test and covered the result with his thumb before swallowing the lump in his throat. 

A deep breath rushed through parted lips. "Turn it over on three. One, two…" 

Three never came for Patrice. Even after Terry had uttered the number and turned his test over slowly, Patrice kept her eyes closed, waiting for him to spill the beans. She couldn't bring herself to verify on her own accord. He'd have to be her eyes and ears. 

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds, making the wait agonizing until Terry broke the seal. 

"Treecey," he called out. "Please look with me. I need you to see." 

A deep breath helped her blink her way back into clear eyesight. She didn't look at Terry or try to peek at the pink test in his hand. Instead, she flipped her test over with trembling fingers and stared at the small digital screen displaying a single word. 

"Oh –" was all she managed to choke out before looking up at Terry's beaming smile and tear-soaked face. "Does yours say –?" 

"Two lines, baby. Two!"

Disbelief gave way to unadulterated shock. "Oh. My. God. Look at the other one!" 

"You have to do it with me!"

Another countdown as they held on to the final test together preceded an excited flip and harmonizing reactions that could only be described as happy sobs. 

Patrice rocked Terry in a tight embrace while he clung to her, crying into her sweater's soft fabric more than he'd cried in years. An avalanche of emotions wrapped in disbelief that he'd been immeasurably blessed after his year started with so much strife. His losses came with gains ten times above what he could ask or think. 

His wife brushed tears from her already stained face before kissing the crown of his head and repeating, "You're gonna be a daddy, Pooh. You're gonna be a daddy!"

Emotions distorted his deep voice. "Swear?"

"Swear, baby. You're gonna be a daddy."

He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, not caring who he disturbed. Then, he'd run down the hallways, through the lobby's doors, out into the cold D.C. air, and holler to anyone who would listen that his wife, the girl he fell in love with before he could legally drink, was carrying a child that might look just like him someday. 

But he couldn't get past sharing the excitement seemingly gushing out of his pores with the only other person who could understand his joy. He chose to lift Patrice up in the air as he stood tall, spinning her in a slow circle before gingerly placing her back on her feet and pressing his forehead against hers. 

"What the fuck," he laughed as he tickled her sides, causing her to giggle back. "I'm having a baby. With my baby!"

"I guess I couldn't beat teen pregnancy. My parents are going to be so disappointed in me." 

"Stop it." The thought of his parents sitting in their living room without a clue that their firstborn was miles away receiving such big news flipped on a light bulb in Terry's head. "Our parents! Should we call? We should call them now. Do you wanna do a group FaceTime or like a conference call or what?" 

Patrice watched Terry fumble around his pockets for his phone until he came up empty-handed and reached for hers. She pushed the device further away and shook her head. "Nuh-uh. Can we just…enjoy the news by ourselves tonight. I want it to be our secret a little longer. Is that okay?" 

"Of course, Piggy. Whatever you want. I'm sorry, I just - shit. This is insane. You have a baby in there. Should we tell them we're a party of three tonight at dinner?" 

"No," Patrice laughed, finding his unbridled excitement adorable. "If they cancel this reservation because you playin', me and you might have a problem, Daddy." 

Terry bit his lip and lowered his head to kiss at her neck. "Damn, I love hearing you say that. Say it again."

By the time they were approaching a swanky steakhouse on Patrice's long list of places to visit, she'd called him Daddy so much in jest that she almost told the hostess that that was the name on their reservation. 

Pockets of quiet conversation held over candlelight and crisp white tablecloths greeted them as they were led through the dimly lit restaurant to the table for the evening. Terry moved to pull out a chair for Patrice, but she stopped him with a kind smile. 

"I'm gonna run to the restroom. Mommy bladder is starting early. Order something cute for me?"

Her joke made Terry smile like a little boy until she was out of his sight and safely inside the ladies' room. 

Romantic jazz music oozing out of speakers concealed inside the walls like smooth red wine gave Patrice time to replay the day in her head, unable to contain the elation on her face as she washed her hands at the sink. 

Another woman, tall like a model and beautifully sepia-toned, applied lipstick in the mirror and noticed how she tried but failed to stop grinning. She smiled at Patrice before speaking. "You're glowing," she complimented. "I need whatever you've got going on tonight." 

Patrice chewed the inside of her cheek after a bashful thank you. She wanted to keep the words in and pleaded with herself to walk out of the restroom and return to Terry without uttering another word. 

"I'm pregnant," she blurted, unable to fight the urge. "My husband and I – he's the tall one out there waiting on me – we just found out that I'm pregnant. We were best friends over a decade ago, and I still can't believe we're married. Now, there's a baby inside me with half his DNA. I'm having a baby with Terry Richmond. Oh my God." The realization of her social blunder hit her like an 18-wheeler. "And I just told a stranger all my business. I am so sorry!" 

"No, no! That's incredible, girl! Can I hug you?"

Patrice didn't know why she obliged, but she did, allowing herself to sink into this woman's arms like she was an old friend and not someone whose name she didn't know. The woman rubbed her back and squeezed tight before pulling away. 

"Congratulations, sis. Happy Holidays." 

While Patrice received well wishes on the other side of the establishment, Terry gave his full attention to the cocktail menu as a server attempted to provide recommendations. 

"That one is a crowd favorite," the young man pointed out. "Is she a rum lover? It comes with top shelf Appleton Estate if so." 

Terry chuckled to himself. "She is, but she can't have any right now. We just found out she's pregnant before we got here." Further explanation caught in his throat. He didn't mean to offer up their secret. Excited Terry had done the talking, not calm and reserved Terry. 

He watched with wide eyes and an internal scolding rattling around the container of his mind as the server smiled and jotted a note on his pad. "First, congratulations! I'll note that to the staff and see if we can't do something special for you and your beautiful date. Second, no worries at all. We can turn that one into a mocktail and not lose too many of the flavor notes." 

"Thanks," Terry breathed out. "Hey, can you make sure you don't tell her I said that? It was supposed to be a secret." 

"Our lips are sealed, Mr. Richmond. Consider it a little something extra to celebrate the new year." 

Terry made a mental note to leave a handsome tip behind as Patrice reappeared from her time away. Her smile hypnotized him until she was close enough to remind him about her chair. He scrambled to his feet to take care of his duty, nervously pushing her to the table as if this were their first date. 

When he was back in his seat, he watched her survey the room and menu, taking in each of her features. 

High cheekbones passed down from a long line of majestic women. Soft, mahogany skin that mesmerized him in golden hour light every evening. Dark, expressive eyes that told the story of her inner thoughts, even when she tried to hide. Full lips he couldn't resist. The total package. Everything he hoped for was wrapped in one person. 

Terry sat across from her, smitten. His grin showcased all of his teeth and then some while she scanned the appetizers for something to satiate her peckishness. 

Prolonged silence made Patrice glance up and then double-take when she noticed Terry's one-sided staring contest. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" 

"Just trying to remember how you looked on the second most important night of our lives." 

Sudden bashfulness sent heat rushing to her face. "The third," Patrice corrected with a smile. "Don't leave out New Orleans." 

Terry chuckled at the memory. "Baby, the sun was barely in the sky when you decided to disturb the whole third floor."

"It was time to wake up anyway. That's what's wrong with the world now." 

Jokes and discussions about the possibility of dessert before dinner dominated the conversation until their server returned with two drinks meant to loosen their lips and hips for the evening. A subtle wink between Terry and the server communicated all he needed to know without tipping off Patrice as she excitedly watched beautifully decorated glasses hit the table. 

"To our first night out as Mom and Dad," Terry toasted, prompting Patrice to raise her glass. 

Mom and Dad—parents to be—two bodies forming one in a few months—a culmination of thousands of experiences leading them to a fate written before they were born. The concept sounded so foreign yet so familiar. 

Patrice dabbed at misty eyes, sniffling out a breathy, "To Mommy and Daddy." 

Glasses softly clinked before she joined Terry in a long sip and starry-eyed gazes across the table to officially kick off a night of celebration. 

Or so they'd hoped. Full bellies caught up with exhausted minds and bodies once silver forks hit clean porcelain plates well before their planned 10 p.m. exit. They tried to negotiate the next move with each other: a little walk for digestion, maybe a minute to listen to street performers play go-go renditions of oldies their parents would enjoy, perhaps another dessert to keep the mood high. 

All of their suggestions paled in comparison to hearing the mechanical whir of the hotel's lock precede the door swinging open to a warm room. There were no crowds trying to cram their bodies onto a rooftop brimming with eager folks anticipating good fortune as the clock flipped forward on a new year. There was only each other and the comfort of familiarity. 

Bottles of Sprite from the downstairs market acted like expensive bottles of bubbly poured into scavenged plastic cups next to a collection of fatty snacks, and cell phones switched to silent mode to avoid distractions. 

Terry and Patrice two-stepped hand in hand to jams playing from the television broadcast, dressed down in comfortable clothes and sporting ever-growing smiles. 

Under warm lamplight, Terry held Patrice's hand over her head to help her spin like a wind-up ballerina before pulling her close. "What were you doing last year around this time?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," she groaned, a sour look making her frown momentarily. "I was in a bathroom stall breaking up with my ex. Then Phee got us so drunk that we ended up blacked out before the countdown. I still don't know how we got back to her house or why we were cuddled up in her bed like that."

"Sounds like the kind of chaos you three get into when you're unsupervised."

"Whatever." Patrice laughed before making her fingers dance across Terry's broad shoulders. "What about you? What were you doing?"

Terry let a wry smile creep across his face. "Alone and sleeping. I didn't think there was much to look forward to, and I had to work in the morning anyway. Don't even think I turned the TV on."

The thought of Terry sleeping in on the night handpicked for blind optimism drew a sympathetic look from Patrice. "We both had a rough go at it, huh?"

"I don't know, mine was pretty chill. You were the one missing chunks of time." Patrice took faux offense at his joke, slapping across his chest before they let off laughs that slowly dissipated into a comfortable silence. 

Terry rested his head atop Patrice's, his mind taking a winding road back to the beginning while she hummed a made-up tune to herself. 

"Fifth-period Forensics with Mr. Turner. Junior year. You were wearing little strawberries crocheted on a pink sweater and your hair in a high ponytail. Kind of like tonight."

Patrice looked up and tilted her head in confusion. "What?"

"That's the moment I fell in love with you. I'd always liked you, but that's the moment I realized that I loved you," he clarified. "I spent so much time denying it, tiptoeing around how I felt and trying to find you in other women long after we were done, but I kept coming back to you acing that pop quiz in a pink strawberry sweater."

Patrice chuckled and smiled, recalling the time when her feelings blossomed beyond butterflies in her tummy at the mention of his name into a full-bodied, ever-present yearning for his heart. 

Terry waited expectantly, longing to know if there was a moment for Patrice – if her love had a spark that rocked her world the way she did so long ago for him. 

Flashes of bright light and distant cheering cut in just as Patrice seemed ready to confess, stealing her attention for a second too long. 

She gasped like a child on Christmas morning. "Look, baby! We can see the fireworks from here." Patrice tugged Terry along, all two hundred plus pounds of him yielding to her will slowly but surely. 

He had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Bright flashes of light turning into whimsical bursts kept him captivated as the clock ticked down the final minutes of the year. He slowly embraced her from behind, needing to feel her warmth combined with his for comfort. Patrice watched in content silence, smiling to herself while Terry watched the show unfold from the reflection in her glasses. 

Two minutes left. Two minutes to cap off a whirlwind 365 days and march triumphantly into a new slate. Two minutes to release long-forgotten truths buried in the recesses of Patrice's mind. She leaned back against Terry and craned her neck to admire him from her vantage point. 

A jawline fit for a man meant to be showcased to the world. Piercing eyes that shifted and changed with his emotions. Skin marked with blemishes telling countless stories – some he'd share and others that would follow him to the other side. Full pink lips that talked her through good, bad, and intimate times. All the features that might grace a child not yet named and growing in her womb.

"Senior prom night. You told me you loved me, and I said it back because I always said it back. But, that time, it felt different. It wasn't like sayin' it to my parents or my friends or the stray cat Mama let us feed. A different part of my heart meant it. That was the first moment."

Terry looked down at her, smirking and silently encouraging her to continue. She turned in his arms and then took hold of his ears to rub gentle circles against them. 

One minute left. Seconds dwindling. She continued. "The second time was today. And I hope there's a third, a fourth, and one hundred more to come. I never want to stop falling in love with you, TJ." 

Terry squeezed her a little tighter as if she might vaporize and blow away if he didn't hold on for dear life. "Yeah, me too," He whispered, drawing closer to her lips. "Never." 

Faint voices shouting a countdown in unison floated through empty streets and up to the 10th floor to surround a couple preparing to embark on a new journey. 

“Ten…nine…eight…seven…”

An excited buzzing, nearly perceptible by touch, sparked across the city. Heartfelt 'I love you's' shared as one breath passed between Terry and Patrice just before they connected lips and tongues. 

“Six…five…four…”

Colors painted their bodies from the window, bathing them in light one last time from January to December. A final salute from the Most High. 

"Three…two…one! Happy New Year!" 

Endless possibilities coated in an extra dose of magic felt real for the first time in forever. A lover's embrace carried hope and a promise. They'd start anew in lockstep the way the stars intended, with an extra set of fingers and toes to usher through life at some point in the future. 

But, for a moment, Terry and Patrice stood suspended in time, drunk off the taste of each other, ushering in the new year the only way they knew how. 

Together.

———————————

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[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

[nubiawrites]

chapter nine

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. Sex. Unprotected sex.

Summary: Aaron and Iriye find out some things are better left unsaid and raw.

Notes: so... y'all gonna hate me after this. i'm running away. love yall. leave a comment or a grievance.

MASTERLIST

A cloudy haze of smoke rose from Tamara’s lips as she and Iriye sat in Cece’s office, the headshots of the many actors placed on a cork board. But one constant remained true: Aaron’s beautiful face, eyes staring back at her through his headshot.

“Looks good, doesn't it?” Tamara asked. Iriye looked at her friend, feeling just a little discombobulated from the few hits of weed she had smoked. It was a ritual for them when they were making final casting picks to go into a room and smoke a little till they were both confident of the picks. But this time felt different. The elephant in the room being Vivian Kincaid’s perfect headshot that Iriye wanted to throw darts at.

“Hm,” Iriye responded. Tamara chuckled at her friend.

“You’re such a fucking lightweight,” Tamara shook her head, passing the blunt back over to Iriye.

“You’re a lightweight, lightweight.” Iriye shot back, her words brows furrowed as she was high as a kite. She took a deep drag from the blunt, coughing some as she released it from her lips. “We really can afford good weed now.”

“Thanks, Daddy Warner,” 

“Don’t say that,” Iriye chuckled. “Wow…” Tamara got up and moved to tap on the corkboard.

“I think Vivian is the better choice,” Tamara stated. 

“Excuse me,” Nelly pushed open the door with her shoulder, balancing an array of snacks. Iriye grabbed the box of cosmic brownies, opening it up to retrieve her favorite snack. Nelly placed the rest of the snacks down on the desk.

“Sam is excellent. Don’t get me wrong, but Vivian, she killed it. Whatever you said to her, Iriye, it worked. Even when I talked to her afterward, she was much more chill,” Tamara stated.

“Yeah, kissing Aaron would do that,” Nelly remarked. Iriye bit into her brownie after removing the plastic, needing something to distract herself.

“Oh, is Nelly jealous?” Tamara teased, passing the joint to Nelly. Nelly wasn’t a smoker, enjoying edibles mostly, but she wasn’t going to pass up free weed. She took a deep drag and handed it back. 

“No, I’m not,” Nelly exhaled after smoking, her eye looking to Iriye. Iriye nestled back into her chair, trying to avoid Nelly’s look, feeling she would give herself away.

“Cuz, if you like Aaron, just say it. You were teasing Iriye about her emails with him,” Tamara popped a chip into her mouth.

“No one likes that man. Right, Iriye?” Nelly coughed. Iriye was frozen, her high slowly and steadily hitting her.

“Iriye-” Iriye swallowed the brownie part she had been chewing.

“I think we should go with Vivian,” Iriye stated.Nelly cut her eyes to her and Iriye shrugged. “Vivian has the grit. She made it flow effortlessly with Nora. Plus it’ll make the studios happy and atleast her stylist will make sure she’s a gem on the press run,”

“I agree. This could be a beautiful work relationship blossoming for us. Plus, her and Aaron are easy on the eyes,”

Nelly turned to Iriye as Tamara arranged the photos better on the board.

“What the hell are you doing?” Nelly whispered.

“I’m just doing my job,” Iriye stated, grabbing for a chip, but Nelly snatched it away.

“No!” Nelly let out. Tamara turned to Iriye and Nelly.

“Y’all good?” Tamara asked.

“We’re fine,” Iriye stated. “Right, Nelly,”

There was a look of chaos in Nelly’s eye that Iriye was battling with as she stared back at her.

Don’t do it. Iriye raised her eyebrows.

Come on. Nelly pouted.

“Y’all not even related, and you’re doing that freaky twin shit,” Tamara whined, taking back the joint and taking a hit. “What am I missing?”

“What?” Iriye sat up straight.

“On the board. What am I missing?” Tamara looked at Iriye with a chuckle.

“I think… the headshot for Grant,” Iriye moved the headshot up and stepped back.

“Perfect,” Tamara smiled. Iriye took that as her cue to grab her sneakers and slip them on.

“I think that’s my cue to call it a night. We finished the cast board,” Iriye stated. Tamara brought Iriye in for a hug.

“I’m so glad I’m getting to do this with you. The both of you,” Tamara pulled back to reach for Nelly. Nelly came over, and the three women hugged. “Imagine us doing this in London when we’re shooting this film. It’s happening, y’all,”

Nelly looked over at Iriye, and she smiled back softly.

“It’s just like we all dreamed,” Nelly said, the words biting Iriye in the ass. “All together. As one. All upfront,”

“I’m proud of us,” Iriye changed the subject, pulling both women closer.

Iriye had managed to get out of Tamara and Cece’s apartment, and her Uber was waiting outside. She had slinked into the back, trying to stay aware as she was slightly high. She shared her trip with Nelly and Iriye, wanting them to know she was good.

She then opened her messages and saw that Aaron had texted her.

Iriye bit her lip, seeing the sweet little text messages they sent to each other, a dopier smile coming onto her face as she reread them. She bit her lip and went back to her Uber app. She shared the trip with him as well, biting her lip. She was going back between Instagram posts and such, her fingers tempted to type in her name.

“Vivian,” Iriye said softly as she began typing into the search bar, but her screen showed an incoming call, and she playfully rolled her eyes.

“You know, I thought you would be busy being British and suave in your apartment?” Iriye stated with a chuckle, relaxing back into the seat.

“I was, but then I saw you shared your ride with me,” Aaron said into the phone. “What would it take to get you to reroute to my place?”

“Are you asking me for a bootycall?” Iriye chuckled. “Bootycall?

“More like a sleepover,” Aaron chuckled. “You and Tamara and Nelly must have had a time?”

“We have a ritual. Something we do once we get towards the end of prepoo,” Iriye chuckled. “I mean, preproduction,”

“The wordsmith that you are,” Aaron said. 

“You know how good I am with my mouth,” Iriye whispered.

“Come over,”

“I should. But I have soooo many snacks at my home. And I just got that bed warmer for my mattress,” Iriye giggled.

“I have snacks,” Aaron stated. 

“Yeah, but I need the cheesy puffs. The kind that melts in your mouth,” Iriye nodded, her head feeling fuzzy. “Can you get me some,”

“If you come over,” Aaron bartered back. Iriye hummed for a second. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Fine. But Cheeto puffs. All the junk food,” Iriye said.

Once her detour was completed, Iriye leaned against the door, knocking lightly. It opened, and Iriye saw Aaron, her face immediately moving to smush against his chest.

“You feel nice,” Iriye purred. Aaron pulled her further into the apartment, shutting the door behind them.

“You are properly knackered,” Aaron stated, feeling her turn in his arms, and she began leading him to the kitchen.

“You sound even more British when I’m high,” Iriye admitted, keeping his hands around her as she began looking for things to snack on. “Where are the Cheeto puffs?” She said in a lower voice, Aaron chuckling at her.

Aaron moved to the top of the fridge and picked the bag down; Iriye smiled, moving to sit on his counter and giggling as he gave her the bag of chips.

“This is amazing!” Iriye opened the bag and put a Cheeto into her mouth, chewing. Aaron watched from the doorway as she dug into her treat. “Oh, you want one? Does John Stewart eat Cheeto puffs? I don’t know if it’ll go with the green,”

“You are very chatty when you’re high,” Aaron came closer to her as she sat on the counter.

“Very much so. It’s kind of like a weakness of mine,” Iriye popped another Cheeto puff in her mouth, still trying to have manners with him as she covered her mouth and chewed.

“So if I asked you anything, right now, it’s sort of like a truth serum,” Iriye swallowed the cheesy residue in her mouth. 

“Maybe,” Iriye shrugged, licking the residue off her fingers. Aaron caged her in on the counter.

“What’s your favorite color?” Aaron started with a small question. Not too much pressure.

“Purple. Black. Whatever shade your eyes are right now. They’re pretty,” She admitted.

“Thank you,” He chuckled. “No one has ever called me pretty,”

“Well, we need to make a habit of saying that,” she said, pushing the chip bag to the side. He moved to clip it, and she hummed, grabbing a paper towel and wiping her fingertips. “What else do we you got for me on your version of fifty questions with Vogue,” 

“Is that one of your little obsessions?”

“Yes. Ask away the questions,”

Aaron took a moment to rub his chin.

“Why don’t you like to talk about your dad?”

“Wow, no chaser at all,” Iriye chuckled, leaning back softly.

“I could have probably been better about my words,” Aaronnsaid apologetically. She shook her head, her arms around his neck, and hugged him.

“Don’t be sorry,” She whispered before she pulled away. Iriye began to try to take her sweater off, Aaron helping her, and her goddess locs came down. One unraveling and her sighing. “I’m in dire need of a hair appointment,”

“You still look good,” Aaron fixed her hair for her and leaned in for a kiss, her pulling back.

“I taste like weed mouth. You know. The taste when you smoke afterwards,” Iriye explained. Aaron rolled his eyes and kissed her, purposely licking into her mouth. She moaned into his mouth.

“Still you,” He kissed her again before pulling back and helping her off the counter.

He led her to his bedroom, taking one of his sweaters so she could wear it to bed. 

“Don’t think I forgot you didn’t answer the question,” Aaron said, pulling her under the covers once she was in his sweater and panties. Iriye bit her lip, playing with a loose thread on his cover while his hand rubbed up and down her back. 

“My dad left when I was ten,” Iriye stated. She saw Aaron’s face, and she gave him a sad smile. “He and my mom always had an interesting relationship. When they were good, they were great. When they were bad, you could feel it. But my mom refused to show me anything less,” She explained. “Until he left. He didn’t even say goodbye until months later. He sent a letter. My mom read it and said I could, too, if I wanted. But seeing how upset she was. I didn't want to make her more upset. So I threw it away,”

Aaron watched Iriye, seeing her vulnerability. She was looking anywhere but in his eyes. His hand moved to trail up her arm and cup her cheek.

“Aaron, you don’t have to,” He silenced her with a kiss on her lips. “I don’t want you feeling sorry for me, okay?" She mumbled against his lips. He pulled away.

“I don’t feel sorry for you, Iriye,” He said, stroking her cheek. “I just… I care about you,” Iriye saw the tenderness he was treating her with and she relaxed into his embrace.

“You care about me?” Iriye asked, looking up in his eyes. He nodded. 

“I do. Especially when you care about me too,” Aaron stated.

“I care about you. And it scares me. But I don’t want to close myself off to it.” She admitted. “Ask me another question… please,” Iriye said softly. Aaron pulled her closer to him, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

The different questions had lured a sense of truth and comfort out of Iriye. One she would have been afraid of, but Aaron had held her through it all and kissed her softly. He made her feel safe. 

“And that’s why I can’t eat there anymore,” Iriye said with a chuckle, her hands around his waist as she laid her head on his chest. 

“You’re a wild thing,” Aaron chuckled tiredly.

“It was four-dollar margaritas. I loved it,” Iriye nuzzled her head closer, kissing over his heart and letting her leg intertwine with him. “Can I sleep here?”

“I was hoping that was the plan. And it’s late.” Aaron pulled her leg higher over his hip. She shut her eyes, lulling herself further into sleep until Aaron watched her and shut his own eyes.

Iriye jostled awake a little when she felt Aaron moved when his phone alarm went off.

“Ignore it,” Iriye mumbled as she clutched onto him.

“I gotta work out, love.” Aaron let her clutch his pillow. He kissed her softly. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back when you wake,”

Iriye hummed, returning to sleep as she heard him moving around his space.

Iriye had woken up two hours later, lazing around in his bed for a bit. She felt relaxed, and her mouth felt dry. She got out of bed, realizing she was in Aaron’s black pullover sweater, and smiled. 

Iriye went over to where her things were in the room, and she found her phone, seeing that it was dead.

“Shit…” Iriye looked around and quickly found a charger Aaron had lying around. She plugged her phone up and went to the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of water and moved to sit on the counter, seeing the Cheeto bag neatly on the top of the fridge, and she smiled softly. She heard the front door jostle and bit her lip, hearing Aaron come in.

“Morning,” Iriye said, her legs swinging as she sat on the counter. Aaron pulled his headphones out and smiled at her as he came over. “I hope you know I’m not letting you have this back. It’s too comfy,” She shrugged.

“Comfy for you. Sexy to me,” Aaron said, kissing her softly. 

“We’re a mess. You’re all sweaty. I haven’t gotten a chance to brush my teeth,” Iriye felt his hands moving up her thighs and hummed. Aaron chuckled as she tried leaning away again.

“Well, there’s two ways we can go about this,” Aaron licked his lips as he took Iriye in. 

“Okay, what are you thinking?” Iriye asked, her hands going around his neck. Aaron lifted her off the counter, letting her slide down against him.

Well, you can join me in the shower. We get cleaned up, and then you let me fuck you in the shower,” Aaron stated.

“Oh, getting clean and getting dirty,” Iriye rolled her eyes. She felt him shift her to turn in his arms, having her face the counter as he pressed into her from behind. 

“Or we get dirty and then get cleaned up. Either way,” Aaron moved her hair out of the way and kissed down the side of her neck. Her eyes shut, a moan slipping out of her as she pressed back into Aaron. “We get dirty together,”

“You are… something else,” Iriye could feel him hardening against her. “Aaron,” She breathed. She felt his hand skim underneath the sweater she wore, and she pressed her legs together as he slipped it into her panties.

“Relax and let me have fun,” Aaron kissed her cheek. Iriye opened her legs for him, and his hand slid between her folds, collecting her wetness.

Iriye moaned as he found her clit, her feeling his lips trailing up to her ear. “Aaron…” She whimpered, his fingers rubbing circles into the bud. 

“I got you,” He groaned, pressing his length into her backside, rolling against her backside. His fingers slid down to her entrance, and she felt him push two fingers inside of her, a cry erupting from her body. “Fuck, you’re so wet. This all for me?”

“Yes, it’s for you,” Iriye whined, her nails gripping his arm and digging in. She felt him gradually riling her up. 

Iriye rolled her hips into Aaron’s hand as she wanted him to go faster. She felt his fingers peed up some, and she whined, turning to kiss him softly as she pulled his head towards her.

“You want something; use your words,” He said as he slowed down his hand, feeling Iriye’s impatience in the kiss and how her hips rolled against him.

“Aaron, please,” Iriye moaned.

“Please, what?” Aaron’s free hand came up to tilt her head to face him, his hand pressing against the sides of her throat. A soft gasp left her because no one had tried that before, but discoveries were always fun.

“Fuck me,” Iriye whined. Aaron pulled his fingers out of her, and she felt him step away, knowing he was going to get a condom, but she grabbed him. “Just fuck me and pull out,” 

Aaron groaned, and his hand pushed her panties down, Iriye kicking them away. She leaned forward and looked back at him, seeing him take his shirt off. Then, he pushed her down his sweats. 

Iriye moaned out as she felt his length press against her lower lips, the first touch of his bare length to her pussy making her whine. She heard him groan.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Aaron kissed the nape of her neck, his hand finding her shoulder, and he pressed into her slowly, Iriye crying out.

“Oh my god,” She cried out as she felt him inside of her without a condom. She felt him so deep inside of her, and every vein and ridge was pulsating.

“Fuck…you feel so good,”

“I know. You too,” Iriye wanted to cry about how good his length felt inside of her. Write poetry about the dick. He was so thick that she could feel the tip hitting her g spot. She whined when he pulled back and delivered the first thrust and then another; his hand pulled her back by her shoulder onto his length. 

Iriye cried out as she felt Aaron’s length keep hitting just the right spot and honestly, she was so turned on by him. The lack of protection.The fact that she trusted this man. God she trusted him with herself. Much quicker than she would anyone else. 

“Aaron! Aaron! You’re fucking me so good baby,” He had her on her tippy toes, wanting to push back against him as he fucked her.

Aaron was amazed at everything Iriye did. The way her arched back. Her ass smacking against him. The sounds matvching his as he pushed into her. It was all so much and he wanted more, especially feeling her without a condom. It was risky but he felt so much closer to her.

“Aaron! Fuck!” Iriye leaned forward to push back against him. But it wasn’t enough.

“Come here,” Aaron moved his hand around her to pull her up to his body, his arm moving around her collarbone and neck as he held her back to him. Iriye cried out louder as he slid deeper. “You’re so wet wrapped around me. You always get this wet for me?”

“Yes Aaron,” He held her tighter to him as he fucked her harder, her voice crying out louder amongst his groans. 

“You wanna come for me?” Aaron pressed his face against the side of hers, his arm tightening around her neck as she could feel him throbbing inside of her.

“Yes I wanna come for you,” She gasped, trying to catch her breath. 

“Rub your clit for me. Don’t let up,” He kissed her cheek before she felt him thrust himself faster into her. Wet slaps and cried echoed through the kitchen, Iriye’s hand between her thighs as she rubbed her clit in the way she knew could get here there.

Moving in tandem, Iriye cried out as Aaron grunted and moaned, his hips working against hers. Iriye could feel it. Her orgasm just right there. Finally, the right roll of her fingers against her clit sent her spiraling into her end. She cried out, knees going week but Aaron pressed her against the counter, his hips bucking into hers still.

Aaron felt how much wetter Iriye got as she orgasmed around him, his hips pumping into her more and more as he raced to his end. Her moans and cries, growing louder as he pounded his length into her. 

“I’m close,” Aaron warned her, giving her the moment to back out unless she wanted him inside of her, filling her up untils he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Come for me,” Iriye moaned out. Her head turned to the side, catching how wild and out of control he looked. “Please,”

Her asking so politely was all it took for Aaron’s orgasm to pulse through him, coating her insides and making his length creamy with both their ends. He caught himself against the counter, not wanting to crush her with his weight.

“God,” Aaron groaned, feeling her quake around his length. Iriye bit her lip shyly as she felt how wet they were together. 

“Come here,” Iriye leaned up, her lips connecting with his. She moaned softly as he kissed her back, pulling her closer. She giggled against his lips as Aaron playfully brushed his hand against her breast. “Stop before you start something again,”

“Like you wouldn’t mind it,” Aaron kissed her cheek. “You got your land legs again because if I remember, I had to hold you up,”

“Go start the shower,” Iriye said playfully. “We should get cleaned up. I’ll see if I can get a, you know… morning-after pill delivered, I guess,” Iriye didn’t know how to not be nervous at this new milestone. She felt Aaron pull out of her, their combined essences sliding down her leg. She shivered as she thought Aaron collected it to push back inside of her. 

“Don’t be too long, Love,” He turned her to face him so he could thoroughly kiss her, Iriye leaning into him before she felt Aaron smack her ass. He pulled away with a smirk, pulling his sweats back up. Iriye watched as he walked away, chuckling more so to herself. She found her panties, pulling them on. 

Iriye saw her phone powered on and quickly checked it while she heard Aaron run the shower. Sliding it open, She was bombarded with texts.

Tamara: you good?

Tamara: you made it home?

Tamara: Iriye

Text after text, Iriye saw the panic rising in her until she got to the last one.

Tamara: Why are you at Aaron’s place?

Iriye tried her best to collect herself. 

“Fuck…” Iriye breathed out. 

As much as Iriye tried to focus on the shower she and Aaron were sharing, she kept thinking about Tamara’s text, and that continued as they got dressed. 

“Something on your mind?” Aaron asked Iriye once they left his parking garage for the day. The plan was to stop by a pharmacy, Iriye would get a morning-after pill, and then they would head to her place so she could grab clothes to spend the weekend.

“Um… yeah,” Iriye tried to explain her discovery. It’s a funny story. Tamara knows I’m here… with you.” Iriye needed to stop sharing her location with her friends.

“Oh.” Aaron kept his eyes on the road.

“Turn here. The pharmacy is here,”  Iriye directed. Aaron followed, and she bit her lip as they pulled into a parking lot. “I’ll be quick,”

“Iriye,”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell her about us?”

“Aaron, there is a timeline for getting the pill. I’m not on birth control,”

“You have plenty of time,” Iriye rolled her eyes.

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know,” Iriye shrugged as she looked at him.

“Right,” Aaron turned back to stare out the window.

“Aaron,”

“I get you want your privacy, and I like mine, but hiding me from your best friend,”

“Your director-” Iriye pointed.

“Your best friend,” Aaron challenged, and Iriye huffed. “I like our little world. I enjoy getting to know what makes you tick. Maybe I hope I’m something or someone who is a part of that,” 

Iriye looked at his side profile, and she saw his jaw clench. She hated that she had caused it.

“I’ll be in and out,” Iriye said, knowing it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But it was what she needed.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

[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.

[hoomandoescosplay]

Love Language | L Lawliet x Reader Oneshot

I place the cake I just finished making into the fridge to cool for a bit as I hear the doorbell ring. A small hum escapes me as I walk to the front door and look through the peephole. I don’t see anything except for a package on the doormat.

Before I know it a smile forms on my face as I open the door eager to get the package inside. I start walking towards the kitchen but pivot to the living room once I remember the kitchen counters are full of baking supplies.

As I sit down and begin to open the package my smile widens. Inside the package is a black box with a bow. I read the name engraved on the box and my eyes widen, my hand moving even faster now to unbox this gift.

A small gasp leaves my mouth as I see a pair of black chunky Valentino heels. They were beautiful, and exactly my style. Just like how L knows me all too well. I pick up the box and start taking the shoes out, admiring them for another minute before I put them on.

I continue to stare at them with an obnoxious smile on my face for a moment before I look back at the box. Inside a small card is neatly tucked into the corner, signed with a simple, elegant L.

I smile as I pick up the card, my cheeks feeling warmer than before. He was always sending me various gifts and surprises, but never failed to make my heart flutter.

After a few months of dating I quickly came to realize that his love language was gift giving. Whether it was buying me dinner or a small keychain to bigger gifts like this one he would never fail to surprise me.

The gifts weren't the only way I knew how he felt about me. Even though he struggled to express his emotions at times, I learned to read the way his eyes soften when he looks at me, or how his voice is a little quieter when he talks to me.

Most people don’t notice the subtle shift in his behavior but I’ve grown to understand each and every little detail. I place the card back into the box before standing up and making my way to our bedroom to see what the heels look like on in the bathroom mirror.

I stand in front of the mirror, the black heels accentuating my outfit and making my legs look longer than usual. I look at myself with satisfaction, turning a little to see how the shoes looked from different angles. I was already thinking of all the different things I could wear with them. A black leather skirt, a dress, jeans and a nice going out top.

Then a certain piece of clothing that I’ve had shoved in my closet appears in my mind. I could only imagine how L would react to something like that.

I was planning on surprising L with the cake I was preparing for Valentine’s Day but I think this surprise might be an even better one. I search through the draws in my side of the closet and quickly find the lacy black lingerie I got as a white elephant gift when I was still in college.

At the time my friends and I thought it was hilarious. We were so young to the point we thought dressing up in something like this was idiotic and only a thing in movies. I got this in my sophomore year while we all passed around white elephant gifts on Valentine’s Day.

A small laugh escapes me as I remember that day. It honestly wasn’t even that long ago. I met L my senior year and we’ve been dating for four years now so I’ve probably had this set for about five years.

I hold the set in my hands, admiring it for a moment before I start removing my current outfit and putting on the lingerie. It hugs my curves perfectly, the matching set looks absolutely stunning with these heels.

As I look myself over in the mirror I almost want to laugh. I look so different than usual, and yet, I feel really good about myself. Feeling satisfied with the way the set looks on me, I decide to go for a finishing touch. I grab a perfume L always compliments me on, spraying a small amount on my wrists and neck.

After, I walk back out to the kitchen to grab my phone and check the time. I have about fifteen minutes before L should get back home. I take a quick look around the kitchen counters and the living room. That should give me enough time to clean up the place and get prepared.

I quickly clean up the counter and kitchen table, putting things away and throwing out random wrappers. I put away any dirty dishes in the sink and then looked around the living room to make sure everything was in order.

My eyes fall on the box the shoes came in and I pick them up and place them in the bedroom closet so L doesn’t see it when he walks in. Once the last of the clutter was cleared and the kitchen was spotless, I made my way back to the bedroom and waited patiently, my heart beating fast in my chest.

I felt slightly nervous but mostly excited. We had been together for so many years already, and the idea of surprising him like this was thrilling. He’s constantly surprising me so it would be nice to surprise him for once.

I sit on the edge of the bed, my hands folded in my lap as the minutes tick by on the bedside clock. I reposition myself on the bed multiple times, not really sure what I'm doing, but end up sitting the same way I started off.

After about five more minutes I hear the front door open and my heart starts beating fast again, the anticipation of what I was going to do making me feel a little jittery.

I sit up a bit straighter at the sound of the door. A moment later he calls out, “I’m home” making my smile grow slightly. A warm feeling fills my chest at his words. I try to keep my nervousness in check as I respond. "In the bedroom."

There’s a moment of silence before I hear him begin to walk closer to the door. My heartbeat quickens and I have to resist the urge to fidget with my hands. The footsteps stop and the door pushes open slowly.

I take a deep breath before looking up as the door opens fully, my gaze fixed on L. His eyes immediately land on me, his expression stays neutral but his eyes are roaming over my appearance.

A small smile forms on my face as I extend out one of my legs. “The shoes look good on don’t you think?” L’s gaze drifts down to my legs and the black heels before sweeping back up and he steps inside the room, shutting the door behind him.

“They look perfect.” His usually quiet voice is slightly lower than usual. My smile grows at his reaction. I roll my ankle slightly continuing to show off the heel as I look down at it.

“They’re such a nice gift. I was completely surprised.” I say as I lift my gaze up to stare at him through my lashes. His eyes stay locked on me, his normal serious expression slightly softened as he approaches the bed.

He kneels down and lightly grasps my ankle, running his fingers along the heel of the shoe and lightly tracing the intricate design as his thumb moves along my skin. "I'm glad you like them." His touch is subtle but gentle, sending a shiver through me.

He begins to trail his fingers up my leg, moving along the lace of the set and lightly up my bare thigh. "Though I find myself rather distracted now from the shoes." His voice is still low and his gaze locked on me. “Distracted?” I fake my surprise. “How so?”

"Distracted by you." He answers simply. "More specifically, what you have on." His hand is still on my thigh, lightly gripping the cloth and he starts moving his fingers in lazy circles on my skin.

A shiver goes through my body as I continue to play dumb. “Yes, I have the shoes you bought me on.” He chuckles softly, the sound making my heart flutter.

His hand moves farther up my thigh, tracing the lace with his fingertips. "Yes," he says, "but you know that's not what I'm talking about. This set isn't something I've seen before."

“Oh this little thing?” I say as he continues to trace the lace. “It’s just a small surprise I kept stored away.” L stands up and places one knee on the bed between my legs, the motion pushing my legs open a bit as he leans over me.

He lightly grasps my chin with his hand and angles my face up to look at him. "I'll admit, it's more than a pleasant surprise. You look stunning in this."

My cheeks flush as he tilts my head up. “I’m glad you like it.” I finally responded after a moment. His expression is now a bit more intense, his eyes roaming over my face and then down my body with interest.

He runs his thumb over my bottom lip. "You have no idea how much I like it." His voice is low and slightly rough. “Then why don’t you show me how much you like it.” I respond as I continue to look up at him.

L's hand moves to lightly grip my hip as he slowly pushes me back down onto the bed. He crawls on top of me on the bed, trapping me under him as he looks down at me with that intense expression.

He leans down until his face is inches from mine, the scent of his cologne filling my senses. "Gladly." He practically breathes the word out.

A content sigh escapes my lips as he begins to train kisses down my neck. One of his hands comes up to lightly toy with the strap of the bra set, his fingers trailing over my skin and sending goosebumps across my body.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer into my body. He let out a low groan when my body pressed against his in the new position. His mouth leaves my neck to attach onto my collarbone, lightly biting and sucking on my skin.

I let out a shallow breath as my body shutters from his touch. After giving my collarbone a few more bites, his mouth starts to trail down as he begins peppering kisses along my chest and to the top of my cleavage.

His hand is lightly gripping my hip, holding me in place as he moves his body over mine. He kisses along my shoulder as he hooks a finger under the strap of the bra, slowly pulling it down my shoulder and exposing more of my skin to his view.

In response my back arches up slightly. L takes advantage of this and moves his hand underneath me. In one quick motion he unclasps the bra before pulling it off me and throwing it somewhere across the room.

A small noise escapes from me as the cool air hits my skin that was previously clothed. Well, as clothed as a lacy, mesh bra could be. L's eyes roam over my exposed chest, his gaze slightly hungry and filled with desire as he begins to lightly run his hands over my chest.

"Gorgeous." he breathes out, his voice rough. I arch my back up towards him again, my eyes rolling slightly back just from the sound of his voice.

His hands grip my thighs, holding my body tight against his as he looks down at me with that hungry gaze. "You have no idea what you're doing to me." he groans as he leans down to kiss my stomach.

One of my hands goes to rest on his head making his lips press down harder on my stomach with each kiss. He's kissing his way down my stomach, his lips warm and making my skin tingle as he kisses my skin, occasionally giving a light bite to make me gasp.

His hands are roaming over my thighs, holding them tightly as he moves his body down the bed and positions himself between my legs. His hands slide up to my hips, gripping tightly and he starts leaving a trail of kisses along the very tops of my inner thighs.

He's taking his time, just like he always does, and it's driving me crazy. His tongue darts out before lightly licking up my inner thigh, the action making my breath catch in my throat.

He looks up at me with an innocent look on his face. "Something wrong?" He says it so nonchalantly but the smirk on his face gives away the teasing tone.

“Yeah.” I say breathlessly. “These are still on.” L's fingers lightly pull the lacy edge of my panties away from my skin before he lets it snap back into place. "Seems like you're right." He says, his voice low.

“Then take them off.” My voice has a slight tinge of desperation to it, making him chuckle lowly. He smirks at my words, his eyes roaming over my body as he seems to take in the view.

He then hooks his fingers in the waistband of the panties and begins to slowly slide them down my legs. After they’re completely off and thrown somewhere in the room his hand goes to grab one of my legs.

L places the bottom of the heel up against his chest as his fingers lightly trace my leg. "You're quite the sight like this. It would be a shame to take these off."

I sit up slightly on my forearms as I stare at him with my heel on his chest for a moment. “Who said the heels had to come off?” He pauses for a moment, his gaze flickering up to meet mine before a smirk forms on his face. "Not a bad idea."

He suddenly grabs my ankle and lifts my leg up, pressing his lips to the underside of my foot and trailing kisses down my leg. I sharply inhale at the feeling, laying back down.

He takes his time with my legs, kissing and biting on my skin gently, continuing down my leg and ending at my ankle where the heel remains. He begins to lightly circle his fingers around the ankle and looks up at me through his lashes with a smirk.

I met his gaze as I let out a satisfied sigh. “Shirt off.” I say as I point towards him. L chuckles softly before leaning back on his knees, still between my legs, and tugs his shirt off his body and throws it onto the floor.

"Better?" He asks with a slight grin. I shake my head as I point lower. “You’ve got me all undressed but not yourself.” He places a hand on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze as his eyes wander over my body and he lets out a low chuckle.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Someone's impatient." I huff which just further proves he’s right. “Stop teasing me.” I whine making him grin. "Teasing you is fun though." He says before leaning down over me and braces himself above me with his arms on either side of shoulders.

He leans down to my ear and speaks in a low voice. "Besides, can you really say that you don't enjoy the anticipation?" I shudder once more as my hand travels down to unbuckle his belt.

His breathing hitches slightly as I touch his belt, the metal buckle making a slight jingling sound as my hands fumble with it. He leans down and lightly begins kissing along my neck again, his body pressed close to mine.

My hands continue to fidget with his belt until I get it off. He lets out a low groan against my neck, his breath hot against my skin as my fingers fumble to pull his jeans off. His fingers toy and tease across my stomach and waist, his touch making me shiver.

After a moment he chuckles and removes his jeans and boxers, tossing them on the floor with the rest of our clothes. Now that the last pieces of clothing are gone he wastes no time in pressing his body right up against mine, his skin warm and touching every inch of mine.

He grabs one of my legs and hooks it over his hip, using the new angle to kiss my neck and the top of my chest. My hands go to wrap back around his neck, my nails digging slightly into his back.

He lets out a low groan as my nails scratch at his skin, the sound reverberating through my body. His hand trails down to his length as he begins to line it up with my entrance.

I bite my lip as I try to suppress my moan from the sensation. L leans down and whispers in my ear, his voice low and rough. “There’s no need to hold back.” As he says this he pushes his full length into me causing me to moan out in response.

We’re both still for a moment as he lets me adjust. When I’m ready I give him a nod and he begins to pull almost all the at out before pushing all the way back in.

His movements are slow and deliberate at first, but soon pick up the pace. He grips my hips as he leans down and starts to kiss me passionately. L’s tongue explores my mouth, tangling with mine as he continues to thrust into me.

I dig my nails deeper into his back as he grips onto my hip thigh tighter. As he breaks off the kiss he uses my thigh to angle my hips up higher, penetrating deeper into me.

My eyes roll back as he groans out in pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good around me.” He grunts out. I barely register his words as my body is on fire from pleasure.

He continues to thrust into me with a continuous rhythm, moans escaping me from time to time. In one swift motion he completely pulls out of me, making me whine.

As soon as he pulls out he flips me onto my stomach. Grabbing my hips and pulling me up onto my knees, so my ass is in the air and my heels are digging into the mattress. He admires the view for a moment before lining himself back up and sinking into me with a grunt.

I grip the sheets with my hands as another wave of pleasure washes over me. Not long after he picks up the pace using the grip he has on my hips to pull me back into him harder.

“L… fuck.” I whimper out as I feel close to release. "That's it... almost there." He tightens his grip and changes the angle slightly, hitting that perfect spot inside me with each thrust. His panting becomes heavier as he feels himself getting closer as well.

After a few more thrusts I come undone, gripping the sheets tighter as my body slightly shakes from my climax. As he feels me tremble around him, L comes undone as well.

He buries his face between my shoulders and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me back onto him even harder and deeper as he finds his own release. We both stay in that position for what feels like forever as we try to recollect ourselves.

Eventually we find our way under the covers, intertwining our limbs together as my head rests on L’s chest. My heels are still on but they somehow don’t get in the way.

I feel him place a gentle kiss on top of my head making me smile and nuzzle into him more. As I begin to drift off I hear him murmur, “Happy Valentine’s Day.” I let out a sleepy hum in response.

My thoughts slowly start to fade as I sink further into his warm embrace. The last thing I feel before falling asleep is his hand running through my hair in a comforting gesture.

[hauntedhokage]

𝓈𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇

Sylus x F!MC

word count: 1.6k

summary: After a UNICORNS holiday party, you meet up with Sylus in the most festive attire you have in your closet.

note: for @silverrings-n-prettythings, merry christmas bitch ily

Holiday parties with mandatory attendance rules were stupid.

You understood and somewhat respected the desire to reward the team for their efforts this year and give them an opportunity to relax, but requiring attendance at the event made the party less of a party and more of a team meeting. Your pre-existing plans be damned, “team bonding” was more important than the dinner reservations your partner had made. Despite how exclusive the restaurant was, how difficult it was to get those reservations - it was the party over anything and you did fear retaliatory missions should you choose to skip.

Tara had tried over the last week to get you to bring the boyfriend she’d yet to meet, seeing this as the golden opportunity to finally meet the mysterious Skye - “If that was his real name”. Every suggestion that you use your right to a plus one is shot down, but you don’t correct her on his name or the way the excitedly slipped off the morning of the party when you’d tiredly mumbled something sarcastic regarding his appearance that evening.

Her disappointment when you show up alone is almost enough to make you feel bad. Almost. But you wear your sweater, a bright red garment decorated with white snowflakes and black feathers and at the front read Santa Caws with a Grumpy Crow wearing a santa hat. Everyone could be well aware that you didn’t want to be there and would only be there long enough to be noticed before you left, but they couldn’t say that you were trying to be a buzzkill. You drank, chatted, danced, and had a merry time with your coworkers until your phone vibrated in your back pocket.

Sylus

6:04pm

Fifteen minutes, sweetie.

Sylus

6:04pm

Don’t keep me waiting.

Your exit is well timed, making sure to grab the box you were eyeing from the white elephant table on your way out in adherence to the rules. It wasn’t anything fancy or expensive, but it was necessary for you to make sure you had the last laugh against Sylus tonight.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Tara asks, speech slurred as an accusatory finger is pointed in your direction. “It’s only-“

“I still have reservations to make, Tara. I’ll see you on Monday, get home safe!”

She’s too tipsy to be able to catch you before the elevator door closes, and you lean against the wall with a sigh of relief at finally being free from that party. You were having fun, but even forty-five minutes was too long when you knew Sylus was waiting for you.

The elevator doesn’t move fast enough, the security locks take too long to register and record your credentials (and take even longer to actually unlock the doors) but it’s all worth it when you’re finally stepping out of the Hunter Association building and into the crisp winter air outside.

“That sweater is more of a crime than anything that’s ever occurred in the N109 zone.”

The pot was certainly calling the kettle black here, as Sylus was wearing a green cardigan that was obnoxious with every move he made; covered in little bells, garland, and lights that decorated the little tree shapes knitted into the fabric. Luke and Kieran certainly delivered when you’d asked for them to produce the worst thing they could find for him to wear for your date this evening. But still, even in something so heinous, Sylus’ figure was imposing as he leaned against the car that would be your chariot for the evening.

“Mine doesn’t alert everything in a five mile radius of my position when I breathe,” you retort, poking his chest and being in delight when the bells sounded in response. “But nice try.”

He only chuckles, opening the door of the vehicle for you to slide into the passenger’s seat. You set the box down at your feet as Sylus makes his way around to the driver’s seat.

You tell him about your day as he drives, answering the questions he had about the party you were at and your coworker’s - specifically Tara - suspicions regarding your dating life.

“You know, considering you run around with various pictures of me on hand and nobody has said anything, I’m sure you could’ve brought me to your work party.”

“While you’re right, I do like keeping you to myself.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m very possessive, Sylus.”

“I’m very aware, sweetie.” He winks, the action bringing a fresh heat to your cheeks as he continues. “Perhaps I want to see what happens when a kitten’s territory is threatened.”

“I’d have to be insecure to feel threatened,” you counter, smirking in your victory when he hums his approval. “Our uninterrupted time together is often limited, so if I don’t have to share your attention I’m not going to.”

“A sentiment we share, my bell.”

Your dinner is quiet, some patrons of the restaurant also dressed to match the season while others were dressed more formal to match the usual atmosphere of this restaurant. The restaurant overlooks the amusement park, treating you to a holiday light show as you eat your dinner at one of the coveted balcony tables. Despite the chill, you’re kept warm by the various fire pits going strong among the tables and you’re further warmed by Sylus’ attentive gaze as you discuss plans for the holiday and upcoming new year.

“I know you said not to worry about moving the reservation, but I do want to apologize for the inconvenience it must’ve been for you.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it actually worked out for the better because it meant I could secure this table.”

“That’s good to hear then. You should probably make next year’s reservations in advance.”

What were you saying? Making plans for a year in advance when tomorrow was barely guaranteed in your line of work? When you didn’t even know where your separate occupations would lead you? It was silly to make suggestions like that and you’re a bit embarrassed that you would try to.

“A good idea, sweetie.”

The praise has you grinning despite your embarrassment, clearly worried for no reason when he hasn’t even blinked at the suggestion. Maybe he was just as hopeful as you were for continued tomorrows that would carry you to the next holiday and every one after that?

“Let’s finish our ice cream, wouldn’t want the light maze line to get too terribly long.”

The line for the maze moves quickly, and soon you’re holding onto Sylus’ hand tightly as you move through the maze. Even with the balcony overlooking a section of the maze, the lights decorating the walls and other lost adventurers made it difficult to truly find your bearings in the structure. But you’re with Sylus and this time With him feels sacred, so you’re truly enjoying every minute with him that you have. You can’t help but think that you’d like to do this every year with him, exploring the light maze and watching the light shows while wearing ugly sweaters in the fanciest restaurant in Linkon City. The thought makes you slow down, something that Sylus definitely notices if the way he pulls you to the side is any indicator. It’s a good place to stop, not in the way of anyone else exploring the light maze and you’re grateful for the moment to be away from others as you stand at the dead end.

“You’re thinking hard, sweetie.” His observation with coupled with a hand on your cheek, and you smile up at him in an effort to assure him that you were alright. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Yeah, I was just thinking that I’d like to spend every holiday season watching the lights here with you,” you murmur, your arms winding around his neck tightly as he leans in to lift you into his arms so he could comfortably rest his forehead against yours. His hands are warm through your jeans as they support your weight, and you feel your cheeks get even warmer at your intimate positioning in such a public space.

“I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I get to see the lights decorating your eyes, silver bell.”

You want to argue that it’s him the lights compliment more, pale skin illuminated by the soft hues surrounding you in the light maze. Ruby red irises sparkle with the reflection of twinkling lights, the sight mesmerizing and further complimented by his soft smile as he looks at you.

“The things I’d do to you if we weren’t in the middle of an amusement park.”

“Tell the twins to set up some lights in your bedroom, you can act on it all there.” You suggest, grin stretching across your face when he lets out a hum indicating that he was satisfied with your suggestion. “Just without the jingling sweater.”

For emphasis, you flick one of the bells sitting at the collar of his cardigan, warning a chuckle from your silver haired lover before he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss.

It’s saccharine, sweeter than the ice cream you’d shared on the balcony and carrying every sentiment let unsaid between you. The lights around you only make the moment more magical, and you wish there was a camera that could capture this moment but at the same time are grateful that this would live in your memories alone.

“It seems I’ve defeated the purpose of the mistletoe you’ve had on you since you left your party.” He teases, voice a murmur against your lips as you grin.

“That’s for later tonight,” you inform, pressing your lips to his in a chaste peck. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

After all, how was he supposed to expect that it was going to go around your waist?

[1920sladydectective]

Drabble as proof of life lmfao

Promise i will try and update Romans V Elephants soon, am very sick!

Love you Ambessa lovers, thinking of you and all the support you give xoxoxo

It had been blissful, filled with intoxicating fun as you had taken the opportunity by both hands, greedy with the promise of it.

Being loved by Ambessa Medarda was like being loved by a burning, bright star. You would orbit around her, caught in the glow. Showered with endless gifts and trips, the apple of her eye, she spared no expense. The sex was mind blowing, her ability to ruin a body shown daily in your weak ankles as you trapesed about Noxus spending the warlord’s money. Only you would hear that tender, real laugh from blood red lips, her heartbeat calm as you drifted off merged against her. Everything was perfect and fresh, even if the violence could be exhausting at times.

Stars, you learnt, burned out before your very eyes.

One day you were dropped like a hot coal, precious possessions of three years love boxed into crates and placed in a carriage. There was a conversation, if you could call it that, in which you were reduced to the very barest, worst parts of yourself. Her voice, as sharp as her blade, had carved wounds that would never heal. You meant nothing, were nothing, that was clear as glass to you now. She had tired of you, a new pretty brunette already already lingering at her feet with the same awestruck eyes as you had once worn. Back to work, her glare had said, back to being a speck of dust beneath my foot.

Sitting in your father’s bakery, long since dormant after your relocation to Ambessa’s manor, you rhythmically shredded the gentle piles of silk. What was truly valuable you would sell, left with no other choice to finance the reopening of the only livelihood you had, but these were hand made, tailored to you specifically and for that they would feel your wrath. Your training clothes were all that remained, the red turning your stomach as you worked yourself into a fit of exhaustion cleaning and resetting the space. Her life of leisure had not allowed you to idle physically, far too stretched and used for that, but cleaning and cooking were skills that had waned. Ambessa’s pity money had gone straight to a charity, and as such you had less than a week before you needed to open again, unless you fancied starving in an abandoned bakery of course.

Each step towards your old life was another flick of her pretty, glimmering blades. Nightmares plagued you, her safety now a drought in your soul. You hated her, more than anything, and that was why you cradled her old cape in the dead of night as your nose sniffed weakly. If you’d done something different, perhaps you'd still be drinking rose tea and rubbing her feet as she told you a silly battle story, a lie about a scar’s origin. Those doubts only lingered in the dark, shattered by the break of dawn. How dare she twist your own mind against you, make you the aggressor in your misery.

This was her cruelty, her bloody slaughter and you would hold her to it even as it burned your weighted lungs.

It had been two months since she had cut you loose and business was good. Your family name still held weight, your father’s recipes etched into your hands as people lamented the break from such precious sweetbread. What a shame you’d gone traveling, they’d say, and how delightful that you were back. What a fucking shame indeed. Life was hard, your aching body a shell of what it once was, as each Noxian soldier that passed through the streets made you want to cut them limb from limb, send a petulant message of your heartache.

Ambessa found herself pondering the decision each day as she retired to bed, eyes sunken as she stroked your old shawl. It would keep you safe, this distance, as she assessed her options. The Black Rose’s ability to slither into where they please made this difficult, sensitive and exhausting. Normally, your safest position was with her, but since garnering their attention pushing you out of her orbit was the clearest bet. Didn’t mean she had to like it, didn’t mean her mind didn’t replay her cutting words and your broken, desperate eyes every time she closed hers. Love was a fickle mistress and she would rather you shattered and safe than carved out in front of her, dead gazed. The bakery was thriving, according to Rictus, and you had mostly stopped getting drunk in bars so the burn in her heart could be allowed to dull into a continual ache

[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.”

[deadhands69]

*❆ White Elephant: Jututsu Kaisen ❆*

What happens when you select their white elephant gift? *This is absolute crack and in no way did I put any consideration into where in time it occurs/what side you’re on/why all of these people/curses somehow got along well enough for a holiday gathering together. **yes, i’m very aware of how out of context the header image is

Gojo: This one is wrapped… interestingly. It doesn’t look bad by any means, the shiny white paper is just folded in a way that feels like it should defy physics. Upon opening, a small strange object falls out. You’ve never seen anything quite like it and its presence weighs heavily on you. You’re about 90% sure that thing is cursed beyond reason and there’s absolutely no way you’re bringing it home with you.

Did he just forget and pick up the first thing he saw on his desk? Absolutely.

Itadori: You selected this one because you can tell someone put so much love into wrapping it. Sure, it looks a little sloppy with the twisted ribbon and fold marks on the cute snowman printed paper, but A+ for effort. When you open it, you find a silly coffee mug filled with random odds and ends. A cute keychain. Human Earthworm action figure. And an assortment of stickers. Overall, a pretty thoughtful gift.

Todo: With the nice reusable gift bag, this one caught your eye. Worst case, you still get a cool bag. Once you open it, you peel back the layers of protective paper to find - a framed photo of Nobuko Takada. What else did you expect? 

Maki steals it from you three turns later.

Geto: The wrapping is immaculate. Crisply folded dark blue paper. Symmetrical gold bow on top. 10/10. It’s perfect. Of course, you had to choose this one. Peeling back the paper and digging into the box, a small glowing ball rolls out. In what he thought would be the funniest inside joke ever (coming from someone who doesn’t joke often), Geto left the curse you had all fought together for you to keep in a nice little orb. How sweet. There’s also a religious pamphlet and invitation to his cult’s gatherings. 

Jogo: The messy wrapping leaves something to be desired, but this one has a presence. When you peel back the green paper, you discover…one of sukuna’s fingers.

This does not feel like it should fit within the $25 spending limit, but whatever.

Nanami: This envelope almost went unnoticed until you saw it poking out from behind another gift. When you open it, you find a gift card for $25. Low effort but certainly useful.

Yuta: A small silver box with a cute blue bow. When you open it, you find a beautiful locket. That's from Yuta. Inside is a photo of Yuta. That's from Rika.

Maki: Green paper with a big red ribbon. This gift looks exactly like someone mimicked the most stereotypical Christmas wrapping they could manage (she did.) It’s hefty for its size. When you open it, you find a large bottle of Pinesol, a scrubbing brush, and some gloves with a note that ‘some of you need to pull your weight  more around here.’

Megumi: The wrapping is nice. Simple. Minimalistic. A red paper so dark it's nearly black. When you open the box, you find an assortment of new pens, pencils, lighters, and a phone charger. He wanted to introduce a surplus to the group in the hopes that now everyone will stop stealing his. (If you can’t tell, the Zenin clan isn’t so big on Christmas.)

Nobara: The gift bag is cute. A nice bow, shiny star covered paper. Great choice. When you pull out the tissue paper and look inside, you find a hammer. Also, a holiday scented candle - gotta cover all the bases.

Panda: Crinkled snowflake print wrapping paper and a few bits of fur in the tape holding it together, but overall something really draws you to this gift. When you open it, you know immediately it’s from Panda. One of those packaged gag gifts you’ll be able to use or re-gift next year for a laugh.

Choso: This is the largest box. It's wrapped up in candy cane patterned paper with big holes stabbed through the top and sides. "Don't shake it!" he screams from across the room when you pick it up. Ripping through the already mangled paper and opening the cratered box, you find a tiny stray kitten with a cute red bow tied around its neck in place of a collar. Awwweee.

Inumaki: This one is larger than most and surprisingly well wrapped in cute santa hat Pikachu paper. When you open it, you find the absolute weirdest garden gnome you’ve ever seen. It’s wonky, in an endearing/funny way. You genuinely wonder where it came from.

How tf did he wrap it so well with only o-[SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER]

Mahito: A transfigured human. It’s not wrapped or anything. He didn’t really understand the game.

Shoko: A cute gold box with a red ribbon tied around it. It feels lightweight but you’re sure there’s something good in there. When you untie it and peel off the paper, you find a pack of cigarettes and a scribbled note that says ‘happy holidays.’

Toji: A crumpled paper bag with the top rolled over. It’s the only one left and you’re feeling adventurous. Opening it, you find a roll of toilet paper (which you return to the bathroom from which it went missing.)

***Sukuna declined to participate. He says his mere presence is a gift to all of you mortals and you’ll be lucky if he graces you with that.

In the end:

The toilet paper has been returned and Gojo confiscated the transfigured human and finger. Well, he tried to. Sukuna's mouth appeared on Yuji's hand and ate both while they were being passed across the room.

This leaves us with:

Gojo's creepy cursed object (he swears it's safe)

Yuji's cute mug/Human Earthworm nicknacks

Todo's framed idol photo (Maki is glaring daggers at you for even considering it)

Geto's curse orb and religious materials (Gojo stole this one to take it out of rotation so they might be off-limits too)

Nanami's $25 Applebees gift card

A locket with Yuta's photo glued inside

Maki's cleaning supplies

Megumi's box of frequently borrowed items (each of which have now been transformed by Mahito to look like small people)

Nobara's hammer. And candle.

Panda's gag gift (Toge is trying to hide this and not make eye contact in the hopes that you will forget it exists)

Choso's kitten that everyone is keeping away from Mahito (Megumi already named it so good luck prying it out of his hands)

Toge's quirky gnome

Shoko's cigarettes (minus the two Nanami already smoked after stealing a lighter before Mahito could transfigure it)

You have one more steal left, what are you going home with?

m.list

[lilbardrhi]

Home for the Holiday

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Reader/You CW: Mispronunciation of Gaelic words; CUTE MUH-FEKKIN' FLUFF! Author's Note: Happy holidays to ME- and all of you! Thank you for reading and engaging. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season <3

For Christmas I decided to send myself "home". As in Scotland, the place I'd never been but that I was always drawn to. It always felt like home, so why not treat myself for the holidays, you know?

Somehow, my gift to myself led me to Fiona - the owner of the bed and breakfast I'm staying at - inviting me to her White Elephant party. I suppose the theme of the party helps. I don't know anybody attending so I just need to get a silly gift to (hopefully) make people laugh. Everything was fine and going smoothly... until now.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!"

I'm now on my knees on a snow-covered sidewalk and trying to scoop up my White Elephant gift after running directly into...

"Alright, lass?"

Fuck me... he's a local.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm ok," I assure him and I reach for the goofy gift.

"Is this... a..."

Before he can finish his question, I'm desperately shoving the joke gift - a Highland Cow tail butt plug with a pretty Christmas bow attached to the end - back in the bag. Why couldn't it have been in a discreet box?!

"It's for a White Elephant party," I say quickly once it's back in the bag.

Finally, I look up.

Oh, he's... painfully pretty. That just makes this worse.

"What about this guy?" he asks with a lopsided smile as he holds out the Highland cow plushie I bought myself.

"He's... for me," I say quietly and gently take the plushie back, tucking him into the top of the bag.

"Got a theme going there, lass," he chuckles.

"Figured... it might make my life a bit easier to stick to some kind of theme, y'know?" I offer softly and stand, hugging the bag to my chest.

"You sure you're alright? Didn't hurt yourself or the coo when you fell? And I'm sorry too. I wasn't paying attention."

I shake my head quickly.

"No, no I'm ok. So is the, uh, cow," I tell reassure him with a small smile and brush some snow off the cow's fuzzy head. "I should, um, get going. I'm sorry, again. And... nollag kridel."

"Nollaig Chridheil, lass," he chuckles knowingly.

"Oh my god," I whisper as my head falls and my eyes go wide. I didn't even pronounce it correctly! Without another word, I turn quickly and fast-walk away.

"You made it!" Fiona exclaims and throws her arms around my shoulders. "Get in here," she says as she pulls me into her house. It's literally just a private entrance to the bed and breakfast.

Within a few moments I'm in the building, my (wrapped) gift is under Fiona's tree, and a cute elf hat has been placed on my head. Fiona gently sets me on the couch next to- oh, no. Nonononono-

"Oh, so you're the surprise guest Fi was raving about," Painfully Pretty laughs loudly as I beg whatever higher power for a black hole to swallow me up.

"Yeah," I give an awkward laugh, "that's me. I guess."

"You two know each other?" Fiona says as she hands me a hot chocolate.

"We bumped into each other yesterday in town. And the Highland coo," he chuckles.

I should have wrapped the cow. I should have wrapped the cow. I should have-

"Oh, that adorable plushie you walked in with? I was wondering where you got 'im. Cute little Christmas sweater and all," Fiona laughs - very similarly to Painfully Pretty.

Conversation shifts off of me and to other guests who are still arriving by the minute. Soon enough, Fiona's living room is packed full of people and one dog. His name is Riley and we made fast friends. I, admittedly, have been hiding in the corner hanging out with him most of the party so far.

"Time for gifts! Johnny, help me get these piled in the center of the room," Fiona demands of Painfully Pretty. Apparently his name is Johnny.

Once all of the gifts are piled where Fiona wants them, we all migrate to the surrounding furniture. She gives us the rundown for how the gift exhcange works and we all begin drawing numbers from a Santa hat. When it's my turn, I grab a random gift and begin opening it.

It's a... Highland cow in a holiday dress and crown.

"Aw! Now your other guy's got a friend," Fiona announces excitedly.

I smile softly at the plushie and smooth out her dress.

"Yeah, I guess he does," I agree and smile at her.

"You should name them," Johnny suggests with a soft look in his eyes.

"I think I will," I nod and smile at him.

When the exchanges comes to an end, Johnny lingers in the living room with me.

"I was hoping you'd be the one to choose her," he says quietly. "Was worried she would be chosen and unappreciated until Fiona dragged you in here."

"You... brought her?" I ask, looking up from the plushie in question.

Johnny nods with a gentle smile.

"Glad the lad won't be lonely this Christmas. It was nice to meet you, officially," he says softly, lopsided smile lighting up his face.

"It was nice to meet you too, Johnny. Thank you for Christy." With a small smile, I hold up the plushie and tap it's nose to the end of his.

"Nollaig Chridheil."

"Yeah, I'm not trying to say that again," I insist with a giggle.

He laughs loudly.

"Why not? It was so cute when you said it last time."

I can feel my face warm at his words and his smirk.

This year's Christmas gift to me might turn out better than I originally expected.

Scottish Gaelic Translations (per Google Translate, apologies if incorrect!)

Nollaig Chridheil - Merry Christmas

CoD Christmas (Meet) Cuties Masterlist

[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.

[strangelyunfinshed]

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.”

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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.