#I have! I've already technically made apart of this already

[thatruerealmwalker]

Crawls out of a hole in your wall

GET MAGICAL GIRL'ED MOTHER FUCKER!

"Despite it all, This Empty Shell still Remains." -Pre Acceptance Quote

"Within this Hollow Heart, Love Still Remains!" -Post Acceptance Quote

This is Claire Taker, a new OC I've made! And let me tell you- the origins of the OC is fucking weird.

This tainwreck of a Lady came about because I was reading @zoeywinterrose's smiling critter fanfic on A03 (which you can check out HERE), started letting THE VOICES speak through me, eventually pulled out the original story I have and made the Caretaker seen there into a fully realized character in my story (get it? Claire Taker?), told them so, found each other on tumblr, because friends(?), and they maybe sort of said yes when I said I was gonna draw the character and make and AU of their AU (in some order there, the progression of events may be off a bit)... I DON'T KNOW HOW I GOT TO THIS POINT.

So yeah, I'm gonna be both explaining this character, my own story, and having all that be loosely connected to Poppy Playtime (Again how did I get here?) So the tags are gonna be silly because of that.

Claire Taker is, as said before, a Magical Girl by the name of Heart Hollow (well Technically Magical Woman, she is pretty old but I prefer saying magical girl)... well the term for in my Canon is a "Blessed" or "Actor"... but those are the official terms, she and the others still use Magical Girl and Magical Boy (because that IS what they are)

And yes! There are both Magical Boys and Girls in this World!

Claire Fights with her Fists and Legs, being a close range brawler, as well as fights with her threads. She uses them in a variety of ways, from creating points to jump, pulling things to her or pulling herself to them, wrapping up targets, or even sometimes using them a whips.

Her Threads are also capable of Stitching people back together and healing them! Apparently the world thinks this means she should be one of the few to get constantly injured, needing to reattach her limbs in the middle of fights sometimes! (or it could be seen as caused by her low self worth as well). I mean look at all of those scars! And those are just the ones she couldn't fully heal for different reasons, she gets hurt alot! ("Better then letting one the kids take the hit" she would say)

Her mental health isn't the best, but it gets really bad when she is alone- Luckily, she's gained the trust of the Parents of the three kid members of Her group to look after them while their at work- as well as fostering the teens when they need somewhere private to hand out. (Her home is like one of 2 unofficial team bases)

At this point, almost everyone who isn't an adult (and two who are like 18-19) calls her Auntie- which she is still getting used too.

After finally getting into a far more okay mindset, she takes to jogging and exercise in her free time. She even helps the younger of the team practice fighting forms and working out when they train at all.

She actually owns a good few properties thanks to her parents- and after her depression weakened she put them up for rent. After a while (and learning how to duplicate cash with Starlight from the group's resident self appointed "Chaotic Gremlin") she was able to start getting a good amount of cash saved up for when the group needs a break or wants to go somewhere fun- (The cost is usually split between her and the other full Adult in the group most of the time).

She still has episodes where her is very not okay (like panic attacks or just bad thoughts)- but it never gets to the point where she feels like hurting herself at all anymore. It helps that one of the kids, the team's unofficial mascot, lets himself be her comfort animal when she has these episodes (and while he hates to admit it, he does enjoy her hugs)

That's all for now! If your interest in more of this original story, let me know!.. Though it probably won't be tagged under Smiling critters next... unless I make William apart of this then it will!

A full view of her plot is down below if your interested in that as well- Anyways thanks for reading this and maybe what lies below, and I hoped this sparked your interest/was a fun read all the same! I think I got an AU to write now!

Claire Taker's Story:

(Content Warning! This gets a bit dark!)

Claire Taker used to be a Person of Joy, living life as Happy as any other- even had Children she cherished most dearly... however one day- in a series of events, Claire loses her kids, be it an Accident or something far worse. Believing herself to be solely at fault, she shut down, remaining within her home and rarely leaving. At first those closest to them attempt to help, as it does, even if She rarely talked or interacted. Just being with others helped to keep her afloat...

But she was abandoned- left alone... and that is what sealed her fate. For a long time- years, close to Ten even, she drowned. She lost her smile, her kindness, her emotions, her Love. She tried, and try she did to get better... but she still drowned all the same.

She made many half attempts on her life- and the one time she fully went through with it- she only lived because she forgot to turn off the Safety on the Gun. This attempt was on the day, when she was so close to pulling herself back together that she was reminded of her kids- undoing all the work she did to get better at a single moment (one the prolonged her deep depression for a few more years-)

Eventually, upon one better day Claire spent shopping with a local mall for much needed supplies for her bare home, a Star fell from the Sky and landed nearby. From it formed a Matrix, and Starlight Leaked into the world. The pure, unfiltered and uncontrolled Starlight, the Blood of Creation, tainted the area in its presence, and Claire. The Building Creaked and Groaned as Starlight lashed into the populace surrounding. Many ran as the structure began to collapse around them...

And Yet Claire stepped forward, Drawn in by the Star.

Even while her body warped, as fur sprouted from her skin and monstrous claws ripped out from between her fingers. As her bones cracked and shattered before being reformed. As the demented whispers that long accompanied her gained form, breaking out from Claire's back and ripping into her flesh-

She reached the center, Where the Fallen Star has landed and with her last bit of strength before she became tainted under Starlight, reached out and touched the Glowing Star within the Epicenter-

And Starlight gathered and condensed, leaving her body, the surrounding air, and returning herself from the Monstrous form it was trying to become- And within her hands laid her Matrix, a Softly glowing heart floating between her palms.

A Stranger came to her one day, and promised her he would grant her most wanted wish "To return your children to you" in exchange for gathering as much Starlight she could.

She, like many other Actors, believed his word, and walked forward with a long lost flame in her eyes, ready to do Anything to get her children back.

Even after learning there was others like her (most of them teenagers or young adults), even after learning that many of the monsters she is fighting against and killed to gather Starlight (the Tainted or Cursed) were once people, even after she learned that should she actually get her wish- she would have to kill the other Blessed and steal their Starlight- She continued on.

It was only when the Three Children amongst the Blessed stood against her to protect their older peers then she questioned if what she was doing was worth it- if ignoring the signs that something was wrong was worth it- if her once beloved children would accept being brought back through the blood of others- if she could really kill these three if it was required of her.

It was from there, after giving up and fleeing that she changed from an antagonist to a protector akin to Tuxedo Mask for the Blessed- more so the Three kids that fought in this battle than the other Blessed.

It was here that Claire was taught how to tell if a Cursed was made from a person, animal, or object/fully made from Starlight as well as how to defeat the Tainted without killing the Person or Creature within. She learned that gathering Starlight is unneeded, and should she continue to gather Starlight like she has- she would only overwhelm her Matrix and become a Cursed herself. She learned how to truly use Starlight, how to prevent herself from Tainting someone on accident, and how to dispose of unneeded Starlight safely.

She was slowly pulled into the Group, being one of the Few Actors to listen and stop the senseless fighting between them. Even when she fell and broke, these Bright Souls dragged Claire along, taking her on their group adventures away from the Magic within their lives. Exploring the town, eating at an Café, enjoying the park. Slowly but surely, she became apart of this group, of the team who fought against the darkness that surrounded them.

The rest of the Blessed, especially the younger of them, started to call Claire 'Auntie'.

However, there was one final truth all of them avoided telling Claire, the final Lie told to Claire about the situation, even if in the depths of her heart she knew the answer herself yet feared to speak it aloud in vain hope for it not to be true.

That there was no Wish- That it was the ploy of The Man who Thought Himself God to either gather followers and resources or spark war between those who could threaten his goals and attempt to turn them into monsters- a Truth that they all knew could break Claire, steal her reason for continuing to live, to stand up tall.

They were going to, right after they handled this newest Tainted... but The Man who Thought Himself God appeared near the battles end... and with a smile, knowing Claire's history of mental health, and the reasons for it, held her by the throat while floating in the air, while Claire thrashed and fought with all of her might, while her allies called out in fear and rushed to save her, whispered in her Ear- "I lied~ There is no Wish, no reversing your most heinous Sin. Your children will never come back- for you killed them. They are gone and you killed them."

Claire SHATTERED then and there. Once again all of the work she put into getting better, doing better shattered- and as The Man who Thought Himself God threw her from high above towards the ground- Starlight, once Shining, became fully black- And the Blessed became Cursed under the weight of Despair-

Mother Gospel: The Harbinger of Mourning was born- as so her fellow Blessed fought, and after a long an almost lethal fight, where the extent of Claire's grief and broken heart was bared to the world, the ones who claimed her as their own, with all they had, ripped Claire out of her Depression made Manifest, and saved her from her fate.

Amongst the broken building, Claire laid as her Heart, once healing, was now torn apart once more as she cried tears of sorrow... and then she was hugged by the most youngest of them... then the other children joined in, all crying and making sure their Auntie was okay. The older kids of the Group joined in as well, despite two having to be dragged within. And even the young adults sat nearby and showed their love for Claire-

And that was what it was- Claire was LOVED, and she could Love in return. She was not Alone anymore, and so the dam burst within her and she cried and screamed and hugged back as sadness and joy danced within her. Her Hollow Heart had become not so Hollow anymore.

It took time, but somewhat soon Claire stood, still in mourning of her lost children, still not fully okay, but she could finally move on, she could finally live with those who saved her from that Sea that engulfed her and gave her warmth and belonging.

And so she fought, and even now fights, against those that would bring about the horrors she went through upon to others with the family formed under the Light of the Stars.

[moaninmoonen]

My last night in my legendary apartment! WHERE IT ALL BEGAN!!!

[dumpywrites]

Cat-astrophe - Min Yoongi / Suga

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem. 

Genre/tags: Fluff-ish, strangers to ???, minor mention of anxiety.

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

a/n: cus we're all soft for long haired Yoongi, right? hehe

It had been officially a month since you had moved to a new apartment place. You loved the new place honestly. It was cozy and the neighborhood looked nice. There were many convenience store nearby and the street was always still busy until late at night, making you feel a little bit of secure when coming home late.

While the place was nice it had one tiny downside. It was rather on the far side from your workplace. It took you an hour of bus ride just to get home from the office, so some days could be more tiring than others. And today was one of those tiring days. 

It was around nine at night on a Monday. Having to work overtime for the deadline and missed the bus, really dreaded you out. You were both tired and hungry, arriving home only to find that your pet cat was missing. It really just was not your day.

To say you were panicking would be a bit of an understatement. Cookie was barely a four month-old cat and had a very tiny body. All the negative possibilities start filling your head and you were horrified by all of them. Not to mention how it was basically forbidden to bring pets in the apartment complex. It was one of the policies but you couldn't help it since Cookie was a rescue.

When you arrived at your apartment lobby with a cat snack on your hand, there wasn’t that many people there. You walked past a guy by the front desk, who had medium-length black locks and fair skin, with headphones dangling on his neck. You began to call your pet’s name as soon as you were outside the lobby, but suddenly you felt a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Are you looking for a small black Bombay cat?” It was the same guy who just walked past you.

“Oh my god, I am! Have you seen him???” You said, your voice was a little bit shaky. 

“He’s in my place, I’m on the seventh.” 

“Oh, me too!”

“I know.”

“Oh.” You said, surprised at how stoic he sounded saying that, but didn’t further question him on it. “I’m so sorry for bothering you, can I go get him now?”

“Sure, I was just gonna go up as well.”

When you both entered the elevator, you made a mental note to ask his name or at least introduce yourself. He was a neighbor after all. It was pretty silent inside the lift and you just hoped he didn’t hear your stomach rumbling ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, bearing the hunger for a little while. 

When the elevator door opened you followed him from behind as he led you to his door. When he stopped at his front door, your eyes were widened in shock. 

“You live next to me?!” 

“Yeah.” He said casually and unlocked the door. "I've seen you multiple times."

You chose to not further question and followed him but stopped when you had only took two steps in, because technically, the homeowner had not really officially permit you to come in. The guy seemed to notice how you just stood awkwardly and looked back. 

“You can sit down for a sec, I’ll go get him.” 

“Oh, right… yeah. Thank you.” You said awkwardly and walked to sit on his couch. 

A few seconds later the man came back with your cat in his embrace. Cookie was clinging on his tshirt before he tugged him and gave him onto your lap. 

“Cookie!” You called, almost teary. 

“I think he jumped from your balcony to mine. Make sure to close your balcony door next time.”

“Thank you so much, I owe you… uh…”

“Yoongi.” 

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You repeated and introduced yourself in return. “I’m Y/N, and if you ever need anything please let me now.” You said as you stood up, already making your way out. 

“Also, thank you for not reporting it…”

“No problem.” Was all the guy said and by this point you figured he was not much of a talker. 

You bid your goodbye to your neighbor, which only gained a small nod before he closed the door on you. You walked to your door and let Cookie down as soon as you got inside. Sighing deeply, you began to feel your stomach rumble again, this time it rumbled quite loudly. Your feet were aching from standing on the bus and now your body finally got on how tired you were. 

Cookie meowed and immediately went to his cat bed and laid down. You sighed and smiled at the small creature. 

“You little rascal… you’re lucky I love you.” 

You then went to your kitchen to cook yourself some instant ramen. 

The next day you went to work and had to take another overtime. Unfortunately you had to for the rest of the week until your current project was done. It was exhausting but you had to make it and mostly thinking about the bonus pay from it helped quite a bit. You spent the next few days the same, repeating the schedules, and the tiring work. 

It was almost ten at night that you arrived home and found out Cookie had gone missing again. For some reason your first instinct was to knock on your next door, in hope the neighbor who once helped you, could lend you a hand again, and hoping maybe Cookie just ran to his place again instead of being gone somewhere where it wasn't safe for him.

You knocked on the door and didn’t get immediate answer. You waited for what felt like five minutes, before the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of your neighbor with wet hair. He had a small white towel around his neck and the hoop earring that you saw him with before was absent. His skin looked glowing, you probably needed to ask about his skin care routine later.

“So sorry to interrupt you, I was wondering if Cookie might have gone to your place again?” 

“He’s right there on the couch.” He casually pointed. His expression was straight and had you wondering if he did not mind it, bothered, or simply didn’t care. 

You slowly walked to approach your cat and bent down to its level. “Cookie, you need to stop this…” You tapped the cat's nose, as if scolding the poor cat would do anything. 

“He jumped to my balcony again, did you forget to close the door?” 

“But I made sure to close it this morning…” You looked at your neighbor, who walked closer to inspect the cat. 

“I think he knows how to turn door knobs, since he’s quite a jumper. You need to lock the door.” 

“I can’t believe this little demon…” You sighed, fingers still stroking the purring cat. 

“He’s… alright.” 

You were slightly taken aback by the response and looked up to him, but much to your disappointment, his expression still looked the same. You were about to get up and excuse yourself, but you notice a small steel bowl under his dining table, half full with what you assumed to be cat milk (I mean, it would be weird if it was his, duh!). 

“You also have a cat?”

His eyes followed yours. “Oh, that. I got it the first time Cookie came here, I figured he must be thirsty since he came in around noon time.” 

“That’s… that’s very nice of you.” You looked at him and smiled. Somehow him addressing your cat by his name sounded lovely. 

“You can have the rest of the milk if you want, since you’ve figured out how he escaped and all…” 

“It’s okay, you can keep it! Just in case he ran into you again…” You chuckled but then stopped after realizing how that just sounded like you did not mind troubling him with your cat continuously. “I mean… I’m sorry, I’ll make sure he’ll never escape again.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll keep the milk for now.” He paused for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just in case.”

You looked at your neighbor and couldn’t help but to feel all warm inside. He seemed like a nice person and from the looks of it he also liked your cat. 

“Thank you so much, Yoongi. I’ll be taking this little guy here then...” You smiled at him and stood up with Cookie in your arms. 

“I got some dim sum…” 

You looked at the guy questioningly. 

“Do you maybe want some?” 

“That’d be too much, it’s okay, you go ahead and eat.” You politely declined. Although you were hungry, you could bring yourself to bother your neighbor any more than what you had done. 

“Have you eaten?” 

“Y-yeah?” You asked, afraid you heard it wrong. 

“Have you eaten?” He repeated. “If not, then I insist you take some.”

“I…” You wanted to lie, but at this point it would come off as rude if you refuse him again. “I actually haven’t. Thank you very much though, I feel so bad that you’re being this nice to me.”

“You can just eat them here.” 

“I don’t wanna disturb—“ You were awkwardly cut by the sound of your stomach rumbling. 

“You’re not disturbing me.” He cleared his throat and looked away. 

That was embarrassing. 

And that was how you ended up sitting down on your neighbor’s dining table, eating dim sums. 

In silence. 

This Yoongi guy really did not like conversation it seemed. He was sitting down on his couch and had turned the TV on. The volume was on but not quite loudly, and Cookie was on his lap, sleeping as he occasionally stroked the cat’s head softly. Funny that somehow you could see some resemblance of Yoongi with your cat.

“So… how long have you lived here?” You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his answer. You kind of regretted asking as soon as the words came out from your mouth, afraid it would be awkward. 

“Around ten months or so.” He paused. “No, I think it’s been almost a year cause I spent two months overseas.”

“Really? What were you doing overseas?” You regretted asking again. Looking at how quiet Yoongi was, you didn’t want to ask too much or indulge into too much conversation, afraid it would be too much for him. 

But much to your surprise, he answered. “I’m a producer. I was working for this artist and all the work had to be done in America.” 

“Wow, that sounds amazing!” You said. At this point you no longer were sitting facing the table, but to him. “Who was the artist?”

“Uh… Halsey.” He replied while looking at the TV screen, seemingly to avoid your stare.

“Oh my god???” You gasped. “That’s incredible! So you’re like crazy talented?!”

“I’m alright…” 

“You should show me some of your work someday!” You said enthusiastically. When Yoongi did not reply to it and stayed silent, you cursed yourself internally. “I mean compared to what I do that’s like really amazing.” You chuckled nervously. 

“I’m sure you’re great at what you do.” He looked at you, a small smile was on his lips. 

You realized it was the first time you saw him smile and it made your heart raced rather faster than usual. It was the first time you saw him with facial expression other than his usual poker face. 

“I’m just a normal product designer at a very normal company.” You shrugged. 

“Don’t downplay yourself like that. You work very hard.” 

“Thanks…” You replied shyly. 

After finishing your food, you got up and went to wash the dishes, which immediately got stopped by the homeowner. He politely told you to go back home and rest. Which again, you could not thank him more for. 

You took your pet in your arms and said your goodbyes to your neighbor. Right when you arrived back in your place you came to realize something. Yoongi did not eat with you and there was only one portion of the food. While it could just meant he had already eaten beforehand, you felt giddy, thinking about another possibility. Was this a crush you sense forming? Frankly speaking, you could not care less. You were welcoming the possibility with open arms.

— 

Friday finally came and you were ready to take it in. The days of working with your company project was going to an end, which meant you no longer need to work overtime after this. The thought of it put you in a very good mood. 

This time right after arriving home, you walked to a nearby chicken restaurant and grab some not only for you, but also for your neighbor. You wanted to repay his kindness the past few days. After changing into some comfortable clothes, not to mention the multiple times you had to re-check the outfit in the mirror for some reason, you took your cat in your left hand and the food in the other. You knocked on your neighbor’s door hoping he was home. 

And he was. You were greeted with his silence but he opened the door wider as soon as he saw your face without question. One thing that caught your eyes though was how he was dressed up like he was ready for a night out. He wasn’t in his usual sweatpants and baggy t-shirt, but instead in a ripped wide legged jeans and a light blue shirt, unbuttoned, with a plain white tee underneath. He looked handsome. And here you were, in your so-called comfy outfit that you were starting to regret.

“Before you ask, no, Cookie’s right here.” You smiled awkwardly as you raised the small cat in your hand for him to see. “I’m just here to drop by some chicken I got for you… as a thanks for your help these past few days.” You handed the plastic of food to him. “Alright, that’s all…”

He took the food from you hesitantly. “You don’t wanna come in?” 

“Aren’t you going out or something?”

“I was… but you are here.” He said, sounding unsure. 

“That’s ridiculous, why would I stop you from going out?”

“I was gonna go to your place…” 

Your mouth formed a small O shape, unable to form a word. He was going to your place? But what for??? The butterflies in your stomach were having a blast. 

“But you’re all dressed up…”

“I was gonna change back.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair, which made you gulped at the sight. “I knew this was a bad idea I shouldn't have listened to Hoseok—”

You stopped his rambling. “What do you mean?”

“I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go eat together at that one Chicken restaurant nearby…”

“Oh.” You widened your eyes.

“Yeah.” He looked at you, biting his cheek in annoyance. 

“This is awkward.” You chuckled. 

“Whatever, just… just come in first.”

You saw Yoongi putting the plastic of food on his table. You offered help after putting down your cat on his couch and walked to his direction. Both of you plated the food in comfortable silence, it felt oddly domestic and you liked it. At this point you were used to him being not talkative and see it as his charm. 

After you took the plates to the living room, Yoongi suddenly came back with cans of beers and soju in his hands. 

“We’re drinking?” You said with an amused grin. 

“You can drink, right?” 

“Sure, but can you?” You playfully eyed him. 

“Don’t challenge me.” 

You could see how he was trying to hide his smile, and it brought colors to your cheeks. 

—

You did not know how you got in this situation. Five episodes in randomly rewatching Avatar The Last Airbender and you both were drunk. You were resting your head on his shoulder as you watch the screen. It seemed like the booze gave you confidence, or made you shameless, or both, but the guy didn’t complain so it could be a sign of a good thing. While you could see Yoongi holding his alcohol better than you, he was not completely sober either. 

It was at this very moment where you saw things through a pink tinted lense. Had Yoongi’s hair always looked that soft? Had he always looked this handsome? You began to question things you should not be questioning.

“Why didn’t you change your clothes?” You randomly asked. 

“Do I look bad?” He replied, eyes still on the screen, hands stroking the sleeping cat on his lap. 

"Of course not, I just feel severely underdressed now..." You chuckled.

He eyed you from top to bottom, which made you nervous, but he shrugged, seemingly to not have any problem with your clothes.

“You look… handsome.”

“You think I look handsome?” He suddenly moved to face you, making you move to look at him as well. The tone of his voice sounded like he was teasing more than asking a question.

You nodded and bit your lips. “And you kinda look like Cookie.” You giggled. 

He raised one of his eyebrows, clearly not satisfied with your answer. 

“Your eyes…” You began to ramble. “They look just like Cookie’s, and when you look annoyed, or just your plain expression… you look like a cute cat.” 

“Really…” Yoongi hummed. 

“Yup!” You giggled like an idiot. 

You failed to notice how at this point, Yoongi has put Cookie down from his lap to the floor. His face only inches away from you as you kept rambling. 

“Your hair look so soft… like a cat’s fur.” You reached your hands closer to his hair, but stopped mid-way, scared he’d get uncomfortable. 

Yoongi surprised you again by grabbing both of your wrist and putting your hands on his hair, letting you stroke his head slowly. You saw his expression softened and as you kept playing with his hair, he closed his eyes. You swore you heard him purr. 

“Pretty.” You said with a drunk smile. 

“Hmm. Pretty.” He mirrored. 

“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense. 

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.” 

—

To be frank, you could not recall what happened after. You recalled some bits of karakoe-ing? Singing random PSY songs in your broken Korean using a bottle of whiskey as your mic. That was probably all? You couldn’t think while the throbbing headache was present in the room with you.

So why were you now in a bed that was not yours, wearing a t-shirt that was too big for you and was clearly not yours, also for heaven’s sake, WHY IS YOONGI SLEEPING NEXT TO ME??? 

You froze. Did you??? There was no way. Sure you found him attractive and all, and you definitely had this huge crush on him, but you couldn’t just sleep with a guy you barely knew. Besides your headache, your body didn’t feel any pain, so that was probably a good sign. What if he was just that gentle? Okay, you need to stop thinking at once before you started a whole fiction about you and Yoongi in your head.

When you turned your back, you felt the other side of the bed shifted as well. 

“You’re up?” He asked with a raspy voice. 

“Yeah.” You said, still back-facing him. “We didn’t… you know…”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Oh, okay good.”

Yoongi did not answered to that, but instead you felt him scooting closer. 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t probably how you’d wanna spend your weekend.” You chuckled. 

Your breath hitched when you felt a hand over your waist. “Is this okay?” He suddenly stopped when your body tensed at his touch. 

You nodded, heart beating too loudly for you to form any sentence. 

“This is nice.” He said, resting his forehead on your back. 

When you stayed silent, he took your hand and turned you over to face him. Heat immediately took over your body as soon as your eyes meet. You noticed he was back in his usual home attire, oversized tee and sweatpants. His hair was messy, but it seemed like universe had its favorite cause he still looked good. 

“You know, I haven’t had good sleep in… weeks.”

You were surprised by his sudden confession.

“It’s half past eleven now, and it’s not even ten minutes after I woke up…” He tittered. “My anxiety has been getting worse the past month and out of nowhere a black cat suddenly jumped to my balcony, meowing non-stop while I was working.”

You looked at him, letting him finish his talk. This was the most words you had ever heard coming out of Yoongi’s mouth and it made your heart flutter. 

“I haven’t been caring. I’ve stopped caring, for a while now. Seeing you care so much for such a small creature… I don’t know, it feels good. It makes me wanna care.”

“Yoongi…” You cooed, caressing his cheek. "It's not true, all you have been since I first met you until this moment, was caring."

"I'm sorry if it feels like it came out of nowhere but I feel at home with you and I don’t know why...” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yet, at least.”

“I… like this too. A lot actually.” You said shyly. 

“I would like to get to know you more if you’d like.” He was being honest and exactly to the point, no flirty bullshit to spice his sentences.

“I’d love that...” 

Suddenly you heard a low meow from under the bed and Cookie jumped into the bed, joining you two. Apparently his bedroom door was left opened and none of you noticed how Cookie had entered. You giggled and he smiled as well, the widest smile and the most genuine you had ever seen from him, as he took the cat and cuddled both of you close.

"I think it's about time you give me your number..." You squinted at him playfully. "You know, so we don't repeat the whole chicken restaurant accident again?"

“Okay, but promise me first you won’t apologize again after kissing me.” He chuckled. 

“EXCUSE ME WHAT???”

— 

“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense. 

Yoongi laughed. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.” 

“I can be crazier if you open that whiskey.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

Yoongi just shook his head, smiling at your silliness. He stood up and went to grab his Hibiki anyway, which earned a shout of celebration from you. 

Things escalated quickly after opening the bottle. Somehow you were starting a drunk karaoke session which followed by many dance breaks. You ended up crying when a sad song randomly came up in the playlist and when Yoongi asked why, you replied. You replied with your lips on his.

In your head it just made sense. It was his lips’ fault for looking so juicy. Yeah, totally his fault for looking so hot that it was driving you insane.

None of you moved and it only lasted seconds before your mood turned sour again. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean…” You pushed him gently. “Oh my god, you’re so gonna hate me!!!”

“Hey, calm down…“ 

You started to panic, tears now forming in your eyes again. “Please don’t hate me, I just wanted to kiss you…” You cried. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough drinking—“

And you puked. 

Yes, Yoongi did see your lilac colored bra when he helped you change into his t-shirt. But that’s a secret between him and little Cookie. 

Thank you for reading! 💎

part 2 is here!

[itsnotgray]

gray’s fic recs

my tagging/recommendation system is a mess beyond the point of fixing, so i made a masterlist. (i’ll slowly be adding fics to this!)

- an asterisk is next to players who play for the ahl team of said nhl team

- if works focused on more than one person, they’re listed under the other people, but only tagged in the first one you see in the list.

- also, apologies if the links don’t work correctly, it is in fact my first time making a masterlist

NHL/AHL

Anaheim Ducks

Jamie Drysdale

hey roomie by @emaanemaa

- trevor and jamie threesome. that's right, that's all it took to get you to go read it.

Trevor Zegras

chameleon by @hischierhaze

- listen- if you're someone who, whether it be consciously or unconsciously, changes themselves and their personality for those around them, or you have a history of it- please read this. I promise you, you won't regret it.

now that we don't talk by @sc0tters

- it's a toxic relationship with trevor, of course I'm gonna eat it up (she might end with trevor... or she might not. you'll never know if you don't read it.)

hey roomie by @ emaanemaa (fic linked above under jamie)

the penalty box series by @starsandhughes

I- if you're not already keeping up with this series... where have you been? every update is laugh out loud hilarious, and leaves you itching for more.

cruel weather- apart of the penalty box series by @starsandhughes

cruel weather gets it's own link because of the amount of emotional damage this inflicted upon me.

Arizona Coyotes

Boston Bruins

Buffalo Sabres

Devon Levi

like it very much by @jackhues

there aren’t many devon fics (which there totally should be), but the way i squealed when i read this one. further affirmed the fact that i think he’d be the best bf.

Calgary Flames

Nikita Zadorov

that scar hurt by the way by @swissboyhisch

- listen…. i’m the farthest thing from a flames fan, and can wholeheartedly admit it was an adorable read.

Carolina Hurricanes

Chicago Blackhawks

Colorado Avalanche

Columbus Blue Jackets

Adam Fantilli

to you, my adamo by @hischierhaze

- it's adam's birthday + his debut, can you blame me for crying?

his return by @hischierhaze

-this made me cry. but in making this, i'm convinced anything kei writes with the fantilli brothers makes me want to cry from either just how sickeningly sweet it is, or of course, sadness.

tiny dancer au by @letsgetrowdy43

god when i say sunny and adam have my heart- i mean it. they’re sososo special to me.

Dallas Stars

Wyatt Johnston

our song by @lovinbarzal

hands down one of my favorite wy jo fics/au’s. it’s wyatt x a barzal sister, a pairing i wouldn’t have thought of, but works so well!

Detroit Red Wings

Edmonton Oilers

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

waking up in vegas by @doc-pickles

- matty t x hughes!sister is a dynamic i didn’t know i needed.

Mackie Samoskevich*

perfect girl by @dmercer91

- this had me feeling things like no other... a big hint as to why? she's shared.

Los Angeles Kings

Alex Turcotte*

who does it better? by @harry-hollands

one of the cutest social media au’s in a while (technically has two parts, but they don’t have to be read together)

Minnesota Wild

Montreal Canadiens

Kirby Dach

here with you by @sc0tters

- it's amber's writing + kirby, what's not to love? (if that's not convincing enough, maybe the line, "I will follow you to the ends of the earth," is.)

Nashville Predators

New Jersey Devils

Jack Hughes

timeless by @babydollmarauders

- if I hadn't originally read this in the middle of the grocery store, I can almost guarantee that I would've cried from just how heartwarmingly adorable this is.

out by @babydollmarauders

- equipment manager x jacky boy- aka a trope I never knew I needed, but now crave after reading this.

ballad of a homeschooled girl by @babydollmarauders

- hands down one of the best pics I've probably ever read in terms of conveying emotion. my stomach was in knots the entire time, attesting to just how realistic the writing is.

never grow up by @aliaology

- i'm sorry but you're not human if you don't get even the tiniest bit emotional at any fic with "never grow up" as the song. BUT A FIC WITH THE BROTHERS? this rendered me emotionally unavailable for a solid 20 minutes.

medía management au by @babydollmarauders

the media management au is an ongoing series staring mr jack hughes and his lovely girl, dove! the updates always bring a a smile to my face, and more than likely make me laugh out loud.

4:41 am by @sweetestdesire

listen, as much as i adore brynn’s smut like no other, her fluffy, soft and sweet fics just do something to me. she writes them so detailed, and consistently has me craving for soft moments with a significant other (a significant other i do not have)

John Marino

stay for a while by @sc0tters

- when i talk about made me feel things, i mean it. amber never fails in writing panty-dropping smut, while also having an thought-out plot.

Luke Hughes

welcome back by @leaentries

- this literally made me swoon. a protective lukey- what's not to love?

nobody's love by @eyesthatroll

- my heart was in my throat while reading, and my emotions were all over the place. regardless of how emotional it left me, it was amazing and deserves all the love.

never grow up by @ aliaology (fic linked under jack)

- older hughes sister watches her brothers grow up + never grow up = tears

summer aches by @starry-hughes

- this fic makes me want a luke to take care of me when i get headaches, triggered by heat or not

what’s not to like? by @starry-hughes

- queen ellen and jimmy are a little apprehensive of you…

jack’s best friend by @lvrzegras

okay listen- any of the brothers x their best friends is great, but jack’s best friend x luke… it just hits different, yk?

Nico Hischier

I never could've seen you coming (I think you're everything I could've ever wanted) by @writingonleaves

- this is probably as close to a literary masterpiece as a fanfic posted on tumblr will ever get

will you take a moment? promise me this (that you'll stand by me forever) by @writingonleaves

- listen- it's apart of the universe she began in the fic above. I have the fic linked under nico (because the oc eventually ends up in a relationship with nico, as seen in the part above), but this is sososo found family heavy. if found family is your trope, then this is your fic

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal

it's nice to have a friend by @youunravelme

- put me through the emotional wringer in the best way possible.

winnie martin's favorite person by @ilyasorokinn

- god- i cannot even begin to describe how cute this is. all i can say, is that I need more pictures of barzy with kids... for science of course.

New York Rangers

Ottawa Senators

Philadelphia Flyers

Pittsburgh Penguins

Sidney Crosby

she was the (red) devil by @crosbyscurls

- hockey meets f1 is already a dream combination… but sid x f1? absolutely amazing

San Jose Sharks

Seattle Kraken

St Louis Blues

Tampa Bay Lightning

Toronto Maple Leafs

Vancouver Canucks

Quinn Hughes

these michigan summers by @lukevangelista

i feel like the only way your not aware this series exists, then your new here. because if you haven’t read this, where have you been? this is for sure one of my top three series’ on tumblr, finished or unfinished. will in fact, forever have my heart. (currently unfinished)

the sun to my moon by @ghostfacd

this fic is part of an au! i highly, highly recommend checking it out- quinny + a grumpyxsunshine trope, what’s not to love?

never grow up by @ aliaology (fic linked under jack's name)

- older hughes sister watches her brothers grow up + never grow up = tears

Vegas Golden Knights

Washington Capitals

Dylan Strome

it's never too late to come back to my side by @lukevangelista (a series)

- one of my recent favorites. particularly geared towards those who think back on old friendships (...and constantly overthink on whether you should reach out. spoilers- it's never too late)

Winnipeg Jets

NCAA

University of Michigan

Luca Fantilli

missing you, quietly by @bitchinbarzal

- emotional torture in the best way possible. i re-read a concerning amount

i lost him by @hischierhaze

- made me cry- but in a good way

baby 101- name reveal by @hischierhaze

- it's dad!luca... yeah that's right, now that you have that cute thought in your head, you kinda have to go and read it

I tell you that I think im falling back in love with you by @writingonleaves

- this fic is sososo special to me for so many reasons- and I think you should totally read this fic to figure them out... just saying

opposites attract au by @dmercer91

this is a link to the head anons for the au- but please go read this sweet au. luca and landen are one of the sweetest pairings.

Nick Moldenhauer

sundays are for textiles by @drewsbuzzcut

- super cute read, and it's apart of an even cuter au

all american lace by @drewsbuzzcut

- also apart of that super cute nick au she has- but this part was not so cutesy (it was at the end). had me on the edge of my seat, and tears building in my eyes. the type of angst you physically feel- but with the type of ending that makes up for it (trust me, it does!)

Mark Estapa

icy roads by @nicohischierz

the simplest explanation i can offer is that this broke my heart- but i loved it anyway!

Boston College

Gabe Perreault

princess!gf x gabe perreault by @yankstrash

- these two are on my mind at least three times a week. i aspire to become amelia- aka find someone who is as down bad for me as gabe is for “his meels”

[longlivedelusion]

Absolute Beginners

[poly!Wolfstar x Reader]

A/N: Well, I made a self-indulgent drabble for my first wolfstar fic cause I had a rough day and needed it remedied via delusion. This is for my chronic fatigue fam who might not have the support they need. And yet they have things to do, like get a car or else they won't be able to get to work. 😬👍 So this is me rewriting a frustrating irl situation into a loving one! Hope you enjoy.

Song: Absolute Beginners by David Bowie

Warnings: none I think. Just fluff. Enjoy!

+++

"I'm so exhausted," I say as I walk into living room, bag barely hanging onto my shoulder as I drag myself to Remus. I flop down next to him on the couch, his arm instinctively reaching around me.

"I can imagine. You had a long day yesterday, sweetheart. Did the extra rest this morning help at all?" His hand reaches up to my head, gently petting me as if he were soothing an animal.

I nod slightly. "Yeah. Still feel like shite though. Not sure I have the energy to do all this."

"I know, but you have Sirius and I to help. You just need to be there to make sure you like the car, and we'll handle the rest ok?"

"Wish it didn't have to be today," I mumble. "M'hurt."

From the other end of the apartment, Sirius' voice booms across the otherwise quiet apartment. "Sorry, sorry. I'm ready, just got caught up with- oh what's this?" His eyes fall on my slouched against Remus, his eyes furrowing.

"They're still exhausted." Remus says quietly, hand softly moving against my hair.

"Baby-" Sirius' eyes soften, walking over in an instant as he kneels down beside the couch. "Was I too loud today? Did I keep you up?" He says, gently reaching up for my hand.

I hold his hand back, my grip loose around his. "No Pads, just think I need more time to rest up is all. And wish we didn't have to go out today of all days." The end coming out in a grumble.

"Is there no way to reschedule?" Sirius looks up at Remus.

He shakes his head, "I already tried to think, but we've already put it off enough. The day's coming up soon. But don't worry we'll take care of everything, alright darling?" Remus says as his hand moves down to cup my face.

I give a little nod and Sirius's face furrows even more. I hear him sigh as he goes to press a soft kiss to my knuckles. "Well, I'm more than happy to be the conversationalist today. Or your own personal pillow whenever you need." He says, his usual grin splaying across his face.

I smile, tiredly. "Thanks. I just hope we have everything, I wanted to ask so many questions but I-"

Remus chimes in, "I already have them written out. I also pulled some research together the other day to find all we need to look over for the car. One of us will even test drive it for you if you want, so you can just sit in the back seat and see if you like it or not while we handle the more technical things." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "We've got it all covered, don't worry."

I sigh, my shoulders sagging in relief. "Thank you two. I really really wish I wasn't so tired or foggy today of all days."

"That's what we're here for," Sirius says as his hands trace over my palm. "We help each other when we need it. You help Remus every month by making sure he's loved and cared during his transition, you help me when I have my... Moments. And we help you when you're exhausted or overwhelmed. It all works out!"

I look between my two boys, heart so full of gratitude. I'd never had someone to support me like this, to be so understanding and willing to help me when most would tell me to just push through. When I've had to just push through or cancel. Yet... I don't have to do this. Not alone at least. Because of their support. Their love.

Tears start to well up in my eyes as Sirius's widen. "Oh! No, no I didn't mean to make you cry baby."

Remus tilts my chin up so he can see my face better, softening as he notices the water pooling beneath my lashes. "Is it really too much? We can cancel, we can always find another way if it's too much for today." He gently wipes the tears away.

"No," I start, eyes downcast to hide my embarrassment. "I just... I'm still not used to being supported like this. I had to struggle on my own for so long that I- I don't believe you both are real sometimes."

I hear a soft whine from below as Sirius moves up behind my on the couch and wraps pulls my back to him, now sandwiching me between him and Remus.

"We're real, we're here." Remus whispers. His hand running softly across my arm now.

"And there's no way we're letting you do this alone anymore. Nope. You're stuck with us." I could hear Sirius' smirk, his arms wrapping tightly around.

"Exactly. And we wouldn't have it any other way."

I pull Remus to me, his arm resting over Sirius' shoulder now as I hug them both to me. "I love you two, you know that?" My voice comes out breathy.

"And we love you. So much." Remus says, eyes never leaving my face.

"As long as we're together," Sirius starts to sing a familiar melody, ever for the dramatics. Remus looks up to his boyfriend and rolls his eyes, the smile on his face showing he knew where this was going.

"The rest can go to hell." I feel Sirius lean down and whisper in my ear, making me chuckle.

"I absolutely love you." His fingers brushing past my hair. Remus is just as mesmerized, quietly listening.

"But we're absolute beginners."

"Kinda feels like it sometimes," I say.

"But if my love is your love," He sings with a softness now, turning my face toward him. His eyes deeply holding mine, mesmerizing.

"We're certain to succeed."

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Shall I Count the Ways: L (FINAL)

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends. You’re in love with him and he’s in love with you, but neither of you know it nor decide to tell the other about their feelings. All the love is there, just hidden in the things you say and the things you do with one another.

A/N: IT'S OFFICIALLY OVER. THANK YOU TO ALL WHO CONTINUED TO READ THIS SERIES AND IM SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO ACTUALLY FINISH IT!

Series Masterlist

50. "I love you."

You practically lived at Spencer's apartment. You spent so much of your time at his place than yours. He emptied out part of his dresser and a portion of his closet to make room for some of your things. He encouraged you to bring more of your belongings, but you declined. You didn't want to take up more of his space than you already had.

"But I like you taking up space," he had said softly, with that soft smile of his.

You wanted to confess your love to him right then and there.

You technically have already, through your words and actions, but you never actually said those three words yet. You and Spencer have officially been together for six months and haven't said "I love you" to each other yet.

You feel as though because of Spencer's own insecurities and anxieties, he held back saying them. For you, you just didn't want to put any pressure on Spencer to say it back. But you love him, there is no doubt about that. You know in your heart, your mind, hell, your entire being that you absolutely love this man. You have for so long and you can't imagine not loving him.

You know he loves you too. You know by how he holds you, how he looks at you, how he talks to you. He doesn't say it outright, but you know he does.

Still. Hearing him say it would be nice. But there's that underlying fear, on both sides.

So now, six months into being with Spencer, you've come to accept that it may be a while until you hear him say those words.

Until he does on one random Tuesday evening.

_________________

Spencer was away on a case. He was called by Emily as soon as his last class of the day ended. They needed all hands on deck. He gave you a quick call on his way to his office, to let you know what was going on. He grabbed his go-bag that he always keeps at the school and proceeded to head to Quantico.

He'd been gone for four days. Every night before going to sleep, he'd call you and listen to you relay your day to him. You'd keep talking until either of you fell asleep. The last thing either of you heard were each other's voices.

The last day, Spencer texted you that he'd be coming home late and that you shouldn't wait up for him.

Well, you're stubborn, you so made sure to drink some coffee while you waited for Spencer to arrive back.

You were sitting in Spencer's living room, posting some of the new antiques you received onto your website when you heard a familiar jingle of keys. You set your laptop aside and stood up right as the door swung open.

Spencer's tired eyes brightened in surprise, "I told you not to stay up."

"It's fine. I drank some coffee so I can be awake to greet you," you peck his lips and take his bag from him. You go to bring it to his room, but he catches your wrist.

"Hold on. C'mere," he pulls you to him, causing you to drop his bag at your feet.

You giggle, wrapping your arms around him, "What is it, Spencer?"

His eyes roam your face, taking in every detail before landing on your eyes, "I love you."

It was now your turn to look surprised, "Spencer-"

"I'm sorry it took me so long to say it. First I take forever to confess my feelings for you and now to confess my love. I'm sorry you've had to wait so long for me, but know that I've always loved you and will continue to love you."

You can't help but chuckle in disbelief, "Where is this grand confession coming from, hm? Did something happen? Did someone say something?"

Spencer looks shyly at you, "No. Nothing like that. It's-It's just I was thinking about how excited I was to come back here and to find you here. I felt so much love for you just thinking about seeing you again after these past few days. Then I realized I never even said 'I love you' yet. We've been together for six months, three days, and," he pauses to look at his watch, then finishes, "-twenty-one minutes."

"I love you too, Spencer. I wanted to tell you much sooner, but I didn't want to pressure you in saying it back. You've been going through so much, I didn't want to add any more stress-"

Spencer shakes his head, "No, you could never add any stress to my life. You take it all away just by being here."

You smile brightly at him, "I love you so much, Spencer," you whisper.

"I love you too," he murmurs before closing in the distance and pressing his lips to yours.

You and Spencer have gone through hell and back, but you two have always loved each other. You've said and shown it in various ways and you know that there is absolutely nothing the world can throw at you that will break you two apart.

[remember-the-fanfics]

hello could you Gen z Overlord meeting Charlie and Vaggie for the first time when they go to their territory while they were working and they were friendly and excited at the idea of Charlie's redemption, basically releasing their wings happily💕💕💕🫧

It was a busy day for (Y/n), they had only got a handful of hours of sleep after having to fight off a whole gang of idiots. The group did damage alot of property while they were here so today was all about fixing the damage and help anyone that needed help.

"Mx Overlord, um someone is looking for you." Said a newly acquainted soul, they seemed to still be waiting for (Y/n) to tear their soul apart at any given moment. The sinner would get use to (Y/n) sooner or later, so (Y/n) wasn't worried.

"Can you tell them I'm busy at the moment?" (Y/n) said holding a board up high for someone else to screw into place, using their wings to their advantage.

"I-I did! But they are very insistent on meeting with you, also one of them is the Princess of Hell." The soul explained,(Y/n) almost dropped the board they were holding, catching it quickly enough so it wouldn't fall on anyone.

"Oh! Sorry but I didn't know Hell had a monarch, just tell them I'll finish up what I'm doing and find them." Said (Y/n).

"Okay!"

-

"Maybe I should have asked what they look like..." said (Y/n) having no clue on who they were looking for, they would be flying if they did so walking was needed incase of running into whoever, luckily (Y/n) soon got stopped by a couple of people.

"Hey, I'm so sorry but do you know where we could find (Y/n)? They're the Overlord of this area." Asked the taller blonde with rosey cheeks and red eyes.

"Are you the ones who wanted to meet with me?"

"You're the Overlord of this territory?"

"Yeah, usually people would say-."

"But you're so young!"

"Like that." Said (Y/n), looking at the Princess of Hell. "But anyway, why did you come here?"

"Well, we noticed that you actually care for the sinners that you have under contract-."

"So we thought you wouldn't mind helping our project to get to sinners to Heaven!" Finished the Blonde. "But introductions first, I'm Charlie Morningstar and this is my girlfriend Vaggie." Said Charlie.

"Well you already know my name but anyways I'm (Y/n) and that's definitely an interesting project, you have." Said (Y/n), thinking about it. "Why don't we talk about at my office? That would probably be more professional, I think."

"Alright! I haven't actually got this far before, everyone usually laughs or tells me to leave." Said Charlie, happy that someone want to listen about it.

"Before we go, how old are you? You seem to young to be an Overlord." Said Vaggie, you looked to young to even be in Hell.

"Well I turned 18 alittle bit before I died so I'm always going look young... if only all those beauty companies knew that." Said (Y/n), snickering to themself at the last part, walking towards where their office/home is.

"18?" Said Charlie, shocked that you were sent to Hell at a young age then quickly turned to rage about it. "Why would Heaven do that to a kid?" (Y/n) looked back to see her anger and Vaggies effort of trying to calm her.

"Look, Charlie. I've made my peace being down here and now I'm making a difference in people's life for the good. It's fine." They told her. "And I'm not a kid, I was technically an adult when I died." They said lighting the mood.

"You're right." Said Charlie taking a deep breath. "Lead the way."

-

"Oh thank goodness, I thought when you said get a sinner in Heaven it would be more of a fight the angels situation." Said (Y/n) before their wings fluffing up in excitement. "But this is so much awesome and peaceful! Who doesn't love trying to stick it to the man in a nonviolent way?!"

"Right?!" Said Charlie. "I just want to handle the overpopulation in a not killing my people way."

"But we don't have an proof or a guest at the moment so we would understand if you said no." Said Vaggie, looking (Y/n) in their eyes, who looked way to excited with their wings.

"I love rooting for the underdogs!" said (Y/n) before calming down and thinking about it."I would need a room when I visit, I'm willing to help fix up this hotel so it would be in better condition."

"We would need you not to do any of your soul contracts at the hotel." Said Vaggie.

"Of course, it would defeat the purpose of the hotel and it would be rude for me to do." Said (Y/n). "I would need to get everything set up for me to be at the hotel often so I'll be there in a day or so."

"Is that a yes?!" Said Charlie, leaning close to (Y/n).

"It's a yes, I would love to help you with your project."

[crybaby-magic]

Similar Flame

redson x reader

contains:smut

“Tang!Wait, don't!” Your vision blurs as you focus on Mei’s painfilled groans. “Mei!No!” A burst of red fire covered your vision.

Jerking awake in a cold sweat looking at yourself in the mirror that laid across your bed.Slightly panicking at the small red flame that sat atop your head.Quickly you patted your head extinguishing the flames quickly.Once gone you sighed.You think back to the nightmare and the situation with the samadhi fire.

The whole situation scared you when Tang activated the ritual and Mei burst into flames.It also didn’t help that Mk had heightened your anxiety when he ran towards her flames.That act alone made you impulsive run to help.Which now your kinda regretting.You didn’t think that ink abilities you had would absorb some of the fire making it become apart of you.Ink and fire what an odd combo.

You haven’t brought this situation up to ANYONE.Not your little brother.Not you kinda adopted dads.Not your friends.Not even your brothers mentors…but thats only cause you doubt that they can help.Logically you could ask Mei seeing as the power came from her and she figured out how to manage it but she’s really can’t keep a secret despite saying she can.

The only good part is that you can keep it under wraps so far and nobody suspects anything wrong so far.Honestly it just feels like a curse that you’ll live with for the rest of your days.Sighing out you move out of bed to get ready for your day.

————————————☆————————

Closing another book with a sigh. ‘Nothing again’ you thought to yourself.You’ve been in the library as of late to look more into the fire.Its not like you're worried but it would be helpful if a situation arises.Pulling out another book from the pile you slowly set it infront of you can feel your eyes droop as you open the cover to read more.Leaning onto you hand that was on the table.

“Ink girl!”

A small yelp exits your body as you sit straight up.Looking behind your shoulder you see the one and only Redson.You relax after a moment.You decide to shrug him off and go back to your reading. “Don’t ignore me girl.Do you know wh-”You quickly interrupted him “Do you mind to keep it down in the library.” you state with nonchalant.He stutters for a moment before groaning a complaint while. pulling out a chair next to you.From the corner of your eye you notice he pulled a book out from your pile and started reading.

After a few moments Redson spoke up “Ink girl i've noticed your pile of books are about the samadhi fire” you hum in response “Why the sudden interest?” Despite expecting the question seeing as anyone would with your amount of books you have on the subject.You still grow nervous.You go silent for a while looking around the area with your eyes.You think for a moment before realizing he technically could help you.He was the original origin for the flame when he was born.Sweat starts to built up on your body before you quietly whisper out “Do you think could help me with something,somewhere more…private.”

————————————☆————————

He had decided the most private place was his house.You sat on his bed in his room (even though he called it a lair) fiddling with your hands.You had already explained the situation about the flames and your ink abilities.Yall sat in silence as you grown nervous.Peeking up at his face every now and then to see his face in deep concentration.You knew he wasn’t really an enemy anymore but you tend to be more cautious of people unlike your brother.

He suddenly hummed while abruptly standing up.You quickly looked up from your hands and watched him leave the room.Not a moment later he came back with some…tool?Redson must have noticed your confused face so he spoke up “Alright i'll help you but you have to do some test for me as compensation.” Tilting your head you softly spoke “ So you want to experiment with me?”

His eyes hardened a bit before sighing “Why yes.This situation is unheard of and i would like to gain a better understanding.Besides it’ll be useful for you and me Ink girl.”You internally grimace at what he plans on using these test for but this is your best shot of at least controlling them a bit better.Taking a deep breath you look him dead in the eye and extent your hand.He looks at your hand for a moment before grabbing it. “Ok i’ll agree to the weird tests for you helping me hone this ability.” you said with determination.

————————————☆————————

It’s been a couple weeks of your secret meet ups.Not only does your ability to control the flames come along but it makes you feel like a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.Though it does make Mk and Mei suspicious when you can’t hang out.Thankfully Pigsy tells them off for trying to pry into your business.While you feel yourself getting closer to Redson you still have some distance.

Today you plan on hanging out with Mk and Mei because you do feel bad for blowing them off.You guys mainly hung out at the arcade but you're not complaining.Ya’ll visited clothing stores that you kinda splurged at.After some time ya’ll wander to Pigsy’s to eat before ending the day.

Walking down the semi quiet street y'all pass by several alleyways.To focus into the conversation that the group was having that you didn’t realize hands reaching out.With a panic yelp you were pulled into the alley.Mei and Mk summoned their weapons preparing for a fight.Though your mind started to blank.

You release ink like substance onto the person but also letting it fling around as you frantically moved.At some point you went into a full panic.Your body starts to heat up as you start hyperventilating.After some point ringing filled your ears and vision blurred.Next thing you know the black red flames emitted from the ink and soon consumed your body.Then all went to black all while Mk and Mei yelled for you and a third voice entered.

————————————☆————————

You jerk your body awake, sitting up letting a rag on your head fall onto your lap.You eyes move around the room slowly adjusting to the dark candle lit room.After some time you realize you were in Redson’s bedroom.You sat in a state of confusion.You can’t recollect how you can here or why.You mind was foggy at some point.All you remember was walking home with Mei and Mk.

You stopped thinking when you saw the bedroom door opened.Redson entered with a cup of water.He looked at you with surprised eyes before returning normal.He spoke up “I’m surprised your up.You really exhausted yourself with your outburst.Thankfully I was near to help you out.Though your brother seems really agitated that I won’t divulge your situation.But i was able to keep him at bay…for now at least.”

Instantly you remembered what happned.A sudden wave of shame came over you.All that hard work just went up in flames literally.You were pulled out of your distracted mind when Redson gently grabbed your face.With a slight blush on his face he stated “Don’t do that you worked hard there’s no point in you degrading yourself for a small mess up.”

Feeling your face heat up you leaned closer to his.You felt his lips touch yours into a passionate kiss.His hands moved down to your clothing slowly removing them.You separated for a moment panting,trying to catch your breath.You grasp onto his cloths tugging them in attempt to take them off.

After a moment yall were in your underwear.His hand slowly moved to caress your slit through your soft panties.You moaned slightly at the contact.His fingers slowly moved into you panties to touch at your clit.You gasp out at his messing with the sensitive bud.You move to grasp at his hair pulling it out of his ponytail.His hair fell down cascading down his back.

He used his unoccupied hand to fondle your nipple on your breast.His mouth soon making contact,flicking his tongue on the sensitive nub.You whimper out a moan at the sensation.

After a point his fingers move down to you slit and start to thrust a finger in slowly.Pumping it in a back and forth.You hips impulsively moves with his finger.Slowly you could feel the second one entering as he speed up the pace.As your brink of pleasure was just on the edge he removed his fingers and his mouth of you body,drawing a whine from you.

He moved the two sopping wet fingers into his mouth and sucked the juices off.You legs clenched at his groaning mouth around his fingers.Once he pulled them out he lifted up your hips as he licked his mouth.Aligning his dick to your leaking while he steadily pushed in.A loud moan emitted from you mouth as you grasp the bed.

Once fully entered to the base of his dick he steadily moved.You felt the sensation rub against your walls making it clench tightly around his member.His speed picked up as he pounded away making you pant out a loud “Mor-agh~ M-More~ Please~ Ahhh~” You whines motivated his to put your body in a mating press pound much more roughly at your abused vagina.

Sweat dripped off of your bodies at the heat released from y’all.Peeking down you saw were he pounded away seeing the juices squelch out seeping onto the mattress.The sight made you throw you head back with a groan.You could feel your climax coming once again.Wrapping your arms around his neck and hair your pussy tighten immensely around his making him groan out.

He let go of one of your legs to quickly moved his hand down to your clit pushing you over the edge as you came.He still thrusted into you as he also followed close behind painting your walls white.He slowed his thrust down to a stop leaving his throbbing dick in your pulsating pussy letting y’all mixture seep out of your hole.

You whined as he removed himself letting globs of his hot cum trickle down.You impulsively clenched you legs in hopes to hold the hot semen inside.You didn’t notice that Redson had left and came back with a warm rag until he had opened your legs to wipe you down.He gently moved you to his desk chair to quickly change the bedding before putting you back and laying next to you.

After a moment he kissed you as he pulled you against him under the blanket to sleep.

————————————☆————————

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SISTER?!”

“Nothing, she didn’t want noodle boy.Now go away before you wake her up.”

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch2

Description- the second chapter! I don’t know if I warned y’all that it’s gonna be the slowest of slow burns. You’re welcome! Anyway, Laika meets the 141 in this chapter and she is terrified of them all! Poor girl. Of course, sweet, handsome Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick is the first to gain her trust. 🫶🏼

(Cont from Ch1 - link below)

I stand in a sort of semi-shocked state, just staring at the man. It was probably only for two seconds before he moved and shook me from my stupor, but it felt like time had frozen. I make a dive for the door and have almost made it through before I hear Dr Dimitrov's voice bellow down the hallway. I then feel a rough arm wrap around my waist and a hand cover my mouth. He whispers harshly in my ear "must'a been hiding like a little mouse in here" shaking me slightly to make me move with him into a better defensive position against the incoming tide of guards. I start rapidly shaking my head, trying to fight against his tight hold on my mouth. My eyes wide and terrified.

"Sit still, lass. You'll get us both in trouble." My eyes flash towards his as he starts tying my wrists with a makeshift bandage wrap to keep me secure. "You'll stay behind me - d'ya speak english, lass?". I nod my head. Obedience gets rewarded. That's what I had learnt over the years in this facility.

"You a hostage?" - I shake my head, no.

"Are ya' one of them..?" - my eyes must give me away. Technically, yes, I am one of 'them', but do I want to be? No, I do not. I just stare back at him. His eyes narrow, eyeing me with suspision now.

Dr Dimitrov's voice grows louder, as does the crashing of cell doors and the shouts of "CLEAR" from the guards. The sound of gun shots crashes to life. I’m shaking like a lead. All of a sudden the man's radio crackles. It's the smooth voice again.

"Soap - careful, they're looking for the asset. He's dangerous. Get out of there and clear the area. We have the hallway covered. Over."

He pushes me further back and keeps his large hand tightly around my lower face, squeezing tightly, almost to the point of pain.

"Bit of an issue, Gaz. Found a little lass in a cell. No sign of the asset though. Leaving in five - cover me." I shake my head against his grip. I wanted to tell him. It's me they're after. It's me. I'm the asset. But I'm scared. And obedient. I don't bite. Yes, I am a trained asset with lots of kills to my name, but I don't bite. Before I have time to say anything, I'm shunted by the large man, pushed forward toward the door. Bullets fly - metal and glass shatters and clangs. Everything is blurry. Numb. Apart from the tight hold on my upper arm. Warm. Bruising.

We clear the hallway without too much issue. I'm pushed into another corridor and shoved again to keep me running, faster than I thought I could run with my wrists tightly tied. I gasp, deciding now is as good a time as any, now he hasn't got my mouth covered.

"It's me they want" I breathe

"No, they want the asset. Stay quiet, Lass. We will figure out who you are later." he says roughly.

I shake my head again. "It's me. I'm their asset. They won't stop chasing me. I'm the last one.. Just-"

He cuts me off, shouting into the radio. "I've got the asset. What do I do now?"

"Just shoot me" I whisper. His eyes flash to me over the crackle of his radio.

"Bring him to the exfil point. Is he alive? Over."

"Alive. And She.. He's a she. Over".

The radio goes silent.

"Please. Shoot me. I'm a monster.. Please."

My mouth is covered with another makeshift piece of cloth, fashioned into a gag. I'm pulled off the floor and roughly thrown over his shoulder.

"Shut it, Lass. If I had known you were the asset, you'd be dead already. But orders are orders" He grunts, angrily. A noise escapes my throat, a whine.

The sound of bullets flying begins to dull, the corridors open up to a door - a door that I had never seen before as I had always been transported with a sack over my head. My stomach is sore, his shoulder digs in with every stride he takes. My eyes start to leak. I close my eyes and just sniffle. Weak. Hopeless, again. Not that I ever stopped feeling hopeless in the first place. But, yeah..

I am uncerimoneously slung to the ground and I groan quietly before looking up at the man who had delivered me to whatever fate I now face. He stares back. Blue eyes, dark hair styled in a strange sort of grown out mohawk. Unusual for a soldier. He looks suspicious, or curious. I can't tell. I hadn't been studied like this for a long time. I am utterly predictable to my captors. They knew my triggers and my commands. 'Laika sit, Laika move, Laika shoot, Laika kill, Laika - lick your own wounds, Laika - cage! Bad Laika.'

Every miniscule movement I make is studied by the man with strange hair and blue eyes. I stare back at him with big, wet, sad eyes. I hate being gagged like this, hate being restrained. They do this to me when I am punished for disobedience. He tutts at me. It's a surprising noise to hear coming from him when he had just told me that he would have killed me quicker if he had known it was me.

"Asset secure at exfil point. How far out are you? Over."

"Two minutes, Soap." The reply crackles back.

I continue to stare at him. Two minutes till I'm either killed or tortured. I start to count down. Death would be the best option, but I doubt it would be that easy. I close my eyes and lower my head. I give up. Surrender to whatever is going to happen to me.

I hear three sets of boots approach and smell the thick scent of Alpha. I don't dare open my eyes. I just sniffle quietly with my head down, leaning against the wall where the man with strange hair had dropped me.

"Fuck Soap, is that the asset?"

"Aye, Apparently.."

"Did she put up much fight? We were told she's dangerous."

"Quiet as a wee mouse.."

"You sure it's her.. how do you know..?"

"She said it wis her.. wanted me tae shoot her"

The man, 'Soap', is interrogated by his team. I finally find it in me to open my eyes. I wish I hadn't. I'm surrounded by four massive Alphas, armed up to the eyeballs, all staring down at me. I flinch. I inhale sharply as one of them, with unusual facial hair and a floppy hat, steps forward. I try to shuffle away before a surspisingly gentle hand falls on to my shin, just below my knee.

"Captain John Price.." he nods in greeting. He has a rough voice.

I look down at the ground and try not to shake. He tutts. Why do people keep tutting at me?

The Captain glances back at the others. "Johnny, this ain't no asset. Get the gag and arm restraints off of her. She speak English?"

"Aye Captain, she does. She told me she wis the last one.."

"Can't be. Not this little thing. She doesn't look like she could harm a fly. What is she, Omega?" He sniffs the air, being unusually respectful - usually Alphas just stuck their nose in my neck and inhaled. "Hmm, no scent. Beta." He concludes.

Soap rushes forward to untie me and I flinch away from him. He steadies his approach but tries to grab my wrists again, I dodge his hands again. A smooth voice, the one I recognise from the radio, pipes up.

"Fuck sake, Johnny. You've scared her. C'mon, let me do it."

He steps forward as Soap, or Johnny, retreats. The Captain steps back too.

"It's okay, just going to get these off. Can I touch you?" The man asks softly.

I stare at him with wide eyes before glancing back up at the others in the team. The Captain seemed trustworthy. Fair. Soap, or Johnny, seemed sharp and unpredictable. This one seems calmer, kinder. Looking at him, I find deep brown eyes with vast softness to his expression. He has kind and honest eyes. My head nods. He steps forward again and slowly lowers himself to my level on the ground. He gently takes my wrists and starts removing the restraints. "You aren't going to try anything once these come off?" He hesitates. I shake my head, no. He then nods and removes them completely.

"Ok, now this.. lean forward so I can get the knot at the back of your head". Obedience is rewarded, my brain recalls. I do as I'm told and lean forward, exposing my scent glands in the process due to the position I am in. He respectfully places his hand on the back of my neck and unties the knot, letting the gag fall free.

"There you go, now.. What is your name?" He asks as he stands up slowly and steps one step away to give me space. I stare up at him and answer his question nervously. "L-Laika..?" I sort of question my own answer, not sure what they were wanting to hear.

He looks round at the others and the Captain beckons him over to the others. "Gaz- here a minute" he calls. Gaz obeys and leaves me with a small smile, I just stare back at him. I watch him walk away from me and glance around, trying to think of my options.

It’s only then that I clock the absolute behemoth of a man with a skull mask. He was terrifying, something from nightmares. I find myself shuffling away from the group. Of course, he is the one who notices my movement and quickly makes a move to stop me.

I release a hollow yelp and leap from my position on the floor. I quickly weigh up my options, there is no point of running from him, he would catch me in three strides, no point of fighting him, he is huge and armed. I do the next thing my stupid brain thinks to do and run and hide behind the kind one, Gaz, I think. He looks just as confused as the others. The scary one stops his approach immediately and stands seperated from the group.

"Thought she was about to leg it." he explains to the others in a voice I can only describe as a growl, rough as gravel. He is terrifying.

I whimper from my hiding spot as he continues to stare at me though his mask. Brown eyes, but not kind - his were hard. Gaz slowly turns to face me, as to not startle me again, he lifts his hand and gently touches my arm to try and comfort me - I remove it from his reach. "Sorry, sorry - look, we aren't going to hurt you, okay? I'm not asking you to trust us but we have a lot to talk about. We need to figure out who you are" he explains softly.

"I'm the asset" I say, "They - they call me Laika." His deep brown eyes don't ever leave mine, I feel a fleeting sense of safety staring back at him.

"If you're the asset, we need to take you back and ask questions. You understand that, yeah?" I nod. I then find myself spilling information before I can think of what I am saying.

“It was me.. the other two assets died. I - I killed lots of people but I was told they were bad. They punished me if I disobeyed, if I didn't complete the objectives correctly.." my voice wobbles.

His gaze leaves mine and looks towards his Captain. "Cap.. what -" he is interupted by his Captain.

“We move out. Gaz, she is with you. She obviously trusts you most. We figure this mess out back at base" the pack leader orders.

They all start to move and Gaz turns back to me. "C'mon, stay close to me. I won't let anything happen to you". I scurry behind him. He doesn't say anything but his inner Alpha preens thanks to the fact he is the one you trust.

We turn a couple of street corners and arrive at a black jeep. The Captain jumps into the drivers seat, the masked man in the passenger seat. I pause. Gaz obviously senses my insecurity.

"Would you rather sit in the middle between us" he glances and nods towards Soap "or.. I can sit in the middle so it's just me.." he asks. I stand in silence, shocked that he actually asked what I was comfortable with. I hadn't been asked for my consent for years and it had happened twice with him in the last ten minutes. He was a kind Alpha.

“J-just you… please" I respond nervously. He nods sympathetically and gets in the car, patting the seat next to him for me. Soap climbs into the seat beside Gaz on the other side of the jeep.

I step into the car and close the door behind me. I feel surrounded and claustraphobic. In the small space of the car, the scent of all four men mix and mingles together. It almost burns the back of my throat. This is strange. I'm not usually sensitive to other designations thanks to the supressants.

I notice, as I shuffle in my seat, that the scary one with the mask is seated directly infront of me. Gaz notices, ever observant of my smallest of tells. "It's fine. None of us will try anything. We aren't feral Alpha pieces of shit, okay?" I slowly nod my head "Ok" I whisper.

He smiles at me. I almost smile back.

[urfavoritegirlkisser]

"To All of the Girls I've Loved Before" II Hazel Callahan x Reader

“Hazel goes to her favorite diner, ordering her favorite food and a large chocolate milkshake to go with it. It definitely helped to deal with her existential crisis on a full stomach and she eventually calmed her emotions.”

Tags: Cheerleader!Reader who is kinda mean oopsie, girls kissing, fem!reader, no use of y/n, lightly proof read

A/N: Wow, didn't expect y'all to like the first part, again this is based loosely off of the plot of "To All the Boys I've Loved Before" except it's gay and we love it. This is part two, go to the first part if you haven't read it already! Also, don't steal my writing, I only post on Tumblr.

Hazel wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there for eternity. She didn’t even wait for the dismissal bell as she grabbed her things and immediately rushed home.

How did the letters even get out? She had made sure to put them all in a small shoe box in the back of her closet…

As soon as she got home, Hazel ran up to her room and searched her closet from top to bottom, but all she found was a now empty shoe box.

“Hazel? Why are you home so early? I thought you had that fight club thing today” Hazel’s mom says as she leans against the door frame in that ridiculously overpriced bathrobe.

Hazel sighed and looked up at her mom, “Yeah…they, uh, canceled today” she says quickly while holding the shoe box and running a hand through her hair in frustration.

Her mother pointed to the box, “I made sure to mail those for you so you didn’t forget, and so they didn’t sit collecting dust.” she says while taking a sip from the drink in her hand

Hazel freezes and looks at her mother, her shock slowly fading into anger, “You were the one who mailed them?”

“I mean it seemed like you had forgotten about them, so I took it upon myself” she says shrugging her shoulders like her decision didn’t cause Hazel to make some of the biggest mistakes in her life.

Hazel throws the shoe box to the floor and rushes out of the house without another word as all of the emotions start flooding her mind and she sits in her car trying to blink back tears. She hits the steering wheel in frustration and then lays her head on it which causes the horn to blare.

“My life is ruined” she groans and then leans back, closing her eyes. She then starts her car and puts it into drive.

She needs to go somewhere and think

Hazel goes to her favorite diner, ordering her favorite food and a large chocolate milkshake to go with it. It definitely helped to deal with her existential crisis on a full stomach and she eventually calmed her emotions.

And then you walked in

You scanned the diner and immediately spotted Hazel, walking over and sitting across from her in the booth. You had your cheerleading uniform on which told Hazel you must have come straight from practice.

“Hey Hazel” you say with a bright smile which Hazel can’t help but return, a small blush coating her cheeks.

“So I just wanted to come over and talk to you about what happened at the track earlier and I also want to offer you a deal” you say with a smug grin, “I need help getting my ex jealous, so I was thinking that maybe we keep up a little charade” you say as Hazel look at you dumbfounded at what you’re saying.

“It’s perfect! I’ll get Josh back for cheating on me, and you’ll finally get noticed by people other than those girls in your little club!” you say, a little condescendingly as you mention the fight club Hazel was apart of.

Hazel decided to try and scrounge up some form of her pride to leave with, “Yeah, look, I just wanted to say that I totally do not have a crush on you, I just needed to make sure another person also didn’t think I had a crush on them” she says confidently, and she isn’t technically lying…more like she was only saying half of the truth, right?

You weren’t going to lie, that made a spike of jealousy shoot through you but were quick to push the feeling down as you looked back to Hazel with a curious expression, “Oh? And who is this mystery person?”

Hazel fiddles with her rings nervously, wondering if she can trust you, “Well…um, her name is PJ but I’m sure you don’t know her-”

“But isn’t she like one of your best friends?” You questioned as you interrupt the brunette.

Hazel rubs the back of her neck anxiously, “I mean yeah, she is, but I never really had a crush on her until that kiss during the game happened and you know things got like super confusing for a while…” Hazel rambles until she slowly looks to see you checking your nails, seemingly uninterested.

“Look…maybe this fake dating arrangement could benefit both of us, you prove to PJ that you are totally not into her and I make my ex jealous, it’s really a win-win situation” you say, trying to push the idea forward again.

Hazel doesn’t know how to respond to this question…could she really date you, kiss you, love you while knowing that you don’t and will likely never feel the same?

She looks up and shakes her head, “I don’t know…this could really crash and burn if we ever get found out” she says softly

“I mean it’s not like we’ll ever tell anyone the truth” You say before sighing, “Just think it over, ok?”

Hazel nods and you flash her a smile before leaving.

“What is my life?” Hazel groans as she lets her head fall to the table in front of her

The next day, you were at cheer practice, running over drills when you heard a voice call your name.

You look to see Hazel walking up to you until she stops right in front of you, tilting your head up a little, you can see a devious grin playing on her lips

“Let’s do this” she whispers to you

You cast a quick glance to your teammates around you and smiled before pulling Hazel into a quick but passionate kiss.

Hazel stumbles back a little after you break away and then looks around at all the people staring, her face starting to turn a vibrant shade of red as she laughs nervously.

“Yep, that’s my girlfriend alright” she says trying to play it cool but ultimately failing as she quickly walks away, “Carry on!” she squeaks out before running away, leaving you giggling softly at how cute Hazel looked when she was flustered.

A/N: Thank you again for reading!! I had no clue that a silly little idea of mine would be enjoyed by so many. Anyways, go drink water you girl kissers.

[litnerdwrites]

"Rhysand had every right to be mad at Nesta for giving Bryce the mask. Cassian was right not to defend her."

Okay, so our issue isn't that Rhysand is mad at Nesta for giving up the mask. Logically speaking, giving up the mask was reckless and dangerous. She and the IC don't know Bryce like we, as readers, do. They don't know her story, motivations, or goals as we do. All they know, is that she has a power that their enemies are looking for, and if they let her go, their world as they know it may very well be destroyed. Especially after they saw the weapons that the Asteri/Daglan have. From a logical perspective, it makes sense that they don't trust her, so giving her the mask was too great a risk.

That's not the issue. It's never been the issue.

First, I think it's a little hypercritical for Rhysand to be so mad, since he, unapologetically, did the same thing to Tarquin. At least Bryce gave them assurances that she'd return the mask, assuming they'd succeed, through hostages. It would also be a way to make sure she wouldn't give in under torture, since that would mean opening the gate to where her family is and dooming them as well as Prythian. Meanwhile, Rhysand didn't even give the book back, or offer to make it up to Tarquin somehow.

That aside, however, Rhysand being mad makes sense. Rhys can be mad she's risked his people, his city and their world. Cassian can be mad that his home and family is in danger because of Nesta's reckless actions. That's fair.

What's not fair, is Rhysand threatened to kill her. What's not fair, is that Cassian let him.

No matter how angry he is, threatening his family/in law's (I'm not convinced he sees her as family at all tbh) with bodily harm. Especially when he's very capable, and (at this point) not proven that he's in any way unwilling to actually carry it out. He has no right to take it out on her in that way. That is verbal abuse. That is threat of bodily harm. He has no right to argue that females are safe in his city, because clearly, Nesta isn't safe in her own home above the city.

Cassian can be upset with Nesta for her decision. As a general, who's job it is to protect the NC, it makes sense he'd disagree with her choice and can be mad over it. However, standing back and letting someone threaten Nesta's life, in her own home, that's supposed to be her safe space, knowing damn well that said person could kill her if he felt like it.

It seems like common sense that once you get married or mated or whatever, your spouse becomes your family. While it's important to prioritise your other family, the safety, and comfort of your spouse should come first and foremost. Every relationship, and family, has their issues, granted, but resorting to abuse, and threats of violence to fix them, is wrong. Allowing others to resort to abuse is wrong.

It's not even the first time this has happened either. The last time he threatened to kill her, she was mentally broken and suicidal, and Cassian didn't stand up for her then either. Maybe Nesta shouldn't have said it the way that she did, but someone should've said it. The worst Rhys can be upset about, in that case, is her 'trying to upset Feyre' (but I've already made it clear a post or two ago how I don't think that was the case), and maybe about how she essentially broke into Amren's apartment, but both pale in comparison to what Rhys did, and should be put aside for a while.

Cassian needs to get his act together. Let Rhysand be mad at Nesta. Let him dock whatever salary I hope she's getting after the events of ACOSF. He's, unfortunately, technically, her employer, so he's free to cut her pay for a bit, suspend her from work for a while, or fire her from court matters, or even give her a few days worth boring paperwork to do. Those are normal, workplace punishments, and make sense, if he's really that mad (but we all know he won't since he needs to keep her and her powers under his thumb), but threatening to harm her when Cassian should draw the line.

The reason he's a terrible mate, isn't because he doesn't act like she's always right or take her side every time. It's because he lets other people (read Rhys) take things too far. Nobody has any reason to think that if Rhysand ordered Nesta to be killed the next morning, that he'd do anything to protect her. He may tried have stood up for her when she wasn't around once or twice in... The series (once in acofas, during that dinner, another time when they wanted her to find the trove, and once when he wanted her to be aware of the fact she can create a trove), but he backs down so easily, proving that if push comes to shove, he won't fight for her.

[blazehedgehog]

After watching SAGE's 2024 trailer, you ever get the feeling that most people want to be making indie games instead of fan games nowadays,? Every year there's been less and less fan works there.

This is the first year I've really felt it in any meaningful way.

There have been attempts for more than a decade to rename SAGE to drop the "Sonic" part. I've always pushed back against that and at this point the branding is too strong to give up, I think. People know about and come to SAGE because the brand is strong. Renaming it would be a death sentence.

Taking off my business hat, it's a bummer to see fangames in the minority here. Everybody wants to hop on that indie game gravy train and chase the success of Pizza Tower (seriously, count how many Pizza Tower clones are in the trailer this year) or Freedom Planet or Spark the Electric Jester or whatever.

And it's easy to congratulate people for striking out on their own and making original games. I was one of the many voices urging Sabrina to divorce Freedom Planet from the Sonic franchise and make it into an original game she could sell. So she ran a crowdfunding campaign (multiple, actually), was successful, and now we have two Freedom Planet games. And that's great!

But... does that mean all fangames should go away forever?

The example I lean on the hardest is comic books.

A lot of the guys who created the biggest super heroes aren't around anymore. They gave up control long ago or are straight up dead now. These books are effectively officialized fanfiction now, as are the $300,000,000 movies based on them. An ever-increasing number of people writing, drawing and directing these characters today were not alive when they were originally created.

But people still keep writing Batman stories, officially or otherwise. Because there are some stories you can only tell with Batman. Now, you could break off and make your own character that's similar to Batman, build up this history for him, and then finally tell your original story with that character. And maybe that's satisfying, to have built something of your own like that.

But for one: that's a lot of work. Batman is interesting because he has decades (almost a century now) of history behind him to play off of and work with. There are people out there who will tell you to just start writing your dream story and forget about building up to it first, but that's more about motivation and confidence than the idea that stories don't need historical context.

And two: that's already been done.

There's a good chance you know who Rob Liefeld is from his, uh, "distinctive" art style. He also created Deadpool, a katana-wielding mercenary assassin that dresses in red and black, whose real name is Wade Wilson. But before Deadpool, he created Deathstroke, a katana-wielding mercenary assassin that dresses in orange and black, whose real name is Slade Wilson.

Here is a guy who has built a career on copying his own work (and the work of others) over and over and over again.

Did it make Rob Liefeld rich and famous? Technically yes, but he kind of got rich because other people made better work using his characters, and he's famous for being kind of a hack.

So which is better?

Creative output you can do right here, right now, today, but is considered "fanfiction" or "fanart" or a "fangame", which may or may not lead to you being the person handling the official thing at some point down the road...

Or spending years of your life toiling to bring an original concept to life, and even if you struggle through all of the boredom and hardship of getting your original product out the door, it gets lost in the noise of now-million other creators trying to do the exact same thing. And then, at the end of your launch, after 2, 3, even 5 years of working and working and working, you've only made enough money to cover rent on your apartment for a month and a half.

Or, to put it another way:

Are you ditching fangame development because you have a legitimately great story you want to tell, or are you just doing it because you can't make money on a fangame?

Are you just creating another Bloodstrike?

As someone who has struggled to justify putting lots of hard work into a fangame myself, and have both made very popular fangames and some not-so-great original games, I don't know if I have a definitive answer for you. But I do wish there were more fangames at the fangaming event, and I will say, as always, if I could get paid a livable wage for making fangames, I would drop everything and do it in a heartbeat.

[xiangqiankua]

I keep having customer service experiences wherein I can adequately describe my problem in Chinese, but I can't understand the nuance or amount of technical terms the other person responds to me with, and it's demoralising! For example, the other day I asked an employee for a certain kind of paper at the art store (which I had a sample of), but because they didn't have an exact match suddenly I was ensnared in a conversation with many unfamiliar adjectives regarding glossiness and absorbency, whereupon I nodded, smiled and "我考慮一下"d my way out of it.

Today I was trying to ask at the post office what would hypothetically happen if an international package, which has a tracking number but does not require signature confirmation, were delivered to my crappy 公寓信箱 which has no room for packages and I were not home? I suppose I should have first clarified how to say 簽名收件, and established the difference between 掛號 and 追蹤號碼, but where things really fell apart was when the guy was saying 平信 (which is regular surface mail) but I thought he was saying a 信 that is 平 and I was like no it's a 盒子, that's why it doesn't fit in the 信箱 (when I should have countered with "it's airmail"). Then it also emerged that he thought this had already happened, and gave me a number to call cause he really didn't know either way (maybe he didn't really know what I was saying either!). To be fair this whole issue is usually evaded by having domestic packages sent to 7-11 for pick-up.

At least I managed to buy some stamps after that.

I feel like I'm at this terrible point where I sound fluent enough that the person I'm talking to decides they don't need to hold back, and by the time I'm out of my depth it's too late to bring out the good old 不好意思, 聽不懂- after all, I initiated this interaction about a specialised topic in Chinese myself! Ah, the arrogance!

I have no choice but to persevere (and maybe go ask at the other post office instead now that I've clarified some things), but has anyone else ever made it past this point...surely there's hope...

[yeeterthek33per]

Bittersweet Days (Charlie Grant x Reader)

A/n Requested

Warnings: a little bit of smut at the end. I've marked the section with a star so y'all can skip it if you so wish but marked the kind of end, so y'all could read the last bitty bit, so warning, teeny mention of nudity in the last of it.

Your chest is heaving as you grab one of the blue bottles from the drinks crate, squirting a stream of water into your mouth.

The subs along the line handing the current lineup their bottles during the injury check.

"I swear to fucking god, they're firing on all cylinders tonight, Asllani is on my ass like she's glued to it. I can't focus and I can't mark her either."

The game hadn't been going well. Sweden suddenly picked up the pace like they had fire lit under their asses and Sam was now down with a leg tweak after a challenge from Eriksson.

It didn't help the referee didn't do shit about it for a whole minute. Even Eriksson and Mušović were going the ref about her taking so long to call it.

Charlie hands you a sweat towel and takes the bottle from your hands when you offer it.

"Don't let her get in your head. She's just trying to pick apart the midfield. She's already gotten into it with Mini. Don't bite the bait. Stand your ground, but don't bother trying to chase her around. She's not the one you need to keep an eye on."

"Rolfö is being the biggest pain in the ass to mark. There's no way our backline can keep up with her. Hunty is the only one who can even block her from that side. Ellie's getting drawn out way too quickly, and I have to back track, and it's leaving Asllani open. It's like we're panicking."

You shake your head. What a way to celebrate your anniversary.

Charlie takes the towel from your hands as well and moves to hold your shoulders so you can sit still for a moment, ever eager to get back out on the pitch.

"Babe, you know how to keep the midfield locked, talk to Ellie, she needs you to keep her in line. If she goes, Clare covers, not you. You have to cover the top of the box, you know this." You nod, grabbing the bottle to take one last drink and Tony signals you over.

"Talk to Mini in that midfield. She can cover Asllani, but not while she's playing the way she is. She's getting pushy, and Mini is biting easier by the minute. I might have to pull Sam here, so I'm looking at Chids to replace her. She'll cover where you and Mini can't. Look for the lines, follow your lines, L/n, you got this." He claps you on the back, and you give him a tight nod.

As Sam gets walked off and you all return to the pitch, there's a higher tension in the air than before. Everything just stops functioning. It's like nobody listened, and Sweden is just blocking everything that gets sent in. Sam isn't coping, and she can't meet any headers despite insisting to Tony to let her go back on.

Alex is subbed on for Polky, but she isn't given the time or ability to get much done. Why would he push her there? Their backline won't allow for her style of play there.

In the end, it's just frustrating, and the exhaustion is setting in faster than every other match. Steph is trying to keep the backline in form, but running a full marathon at the World Cup isn't doing her legs any good either.

In the end, the moment the whistle blows at the end of the game. You all just collapse to the pitch. You'd all pushed for effort after effort, but nothing broke through. In the end, the Swedes emerge victorious.

Everything kind of just crumbles down. Sam collapses to the pitch, Steph is already on the ground by the technical lines where Tony is, who's still arguing with the ref. Lord knows why.

The man's patience when it came to terrible reffing ran about as deep as the hole you wanted to dig yourself into.

Everything hurt. Your heart, your head, your lungs, your legs. It all felt like a slap that your grandkids would feel. Like it made your father turn over in his grave.

You felt the pats on the back from some of your teammates and some from Sweden as well.

You push yourself up, legs shaky and muscles screaming at you. You go find Sam, giving her shoulder a quick pat as you kneel in front of her.

"Hey, c'mon cap, that's gotta be hurting your ass. Up we come." You pull her up and wrap your arms around her, and she just grunts and just about leans fully into you.

You walk her over to the bench, arm around her shoulder, and give her a few back pats and a shoulder squeeze, mumbling words of consolation to her.

She doesn't say much, and you leave her with a small kiss to the temple.

Charlie is the first to approach you, having spotted your hunched form and slow limping steps. You can tell she's holding back a lot more than she feels comfortable with. The tears peeking out of the corners of her eyes, and the red of her face make it obvious to you.

"Hey baby, I'm so proud of you."

You bury your nose into her neck the moment she has you wrapped up in her arms. Her hand sits at the back of your neck, squeezing at it slightly, and her other rubs circles into your shoulder blades.

You lean into her slightly, feeling your legs wanting to give out on you, and she quickly moves her arms around your waist to hold you.

You whimper, feeling your knee start to twinge more now that you aren't running on adrenaline. You'd done it in about six months ago, but the pain never fully went away, even after months of physio.

You just stubbornly chose to ignore it after not being able to play and worrying it would cost you your career.

"I know it hurts, sweetheart. It's just a little bit longer, and then we can go back and just stay in for as long as we like."

Charlie only knew because she caught you spraying the crap out of it one day with deepheat after a particularly bad training session, and the cold was starting to set in on it.

"Sorry, I know this isn't exactly the present you wanted for our fourth anniversary." You say half jokingly, and she just gives you a watery laugh, shaking her head.

"Honey, I got my present a month ago when we stepped onto the pitch together before the game in Sydney. That's all I've ever wanted."

Tears only pour harder. "We were so close, though. I could've played harder, I could've done something about that damned midfielder."

"She was just so much more physical than either of you or Mini were prepared for. There's nothing you could've done without injuring yourself or the other player."

"Me losing out on my knee would have been worth it if we had made history."

Her hands grab your face at that, bringing you to look her in the eye.

"No, it's not because we already did that. Because you already helped do that. You putting yourself out permanently should never happen for a piece of metal that will get covered in beer and put on a hook to get dusty inside a display cabinet. You are worth so much more than that. Don't ever put yourself or your career down for that."

"But-"

"No. You've worked so hard to get here. You put your knee on the line just to make the team. It's time to rest. It's okay to need a break. It's okay to say you've done everything you could. It's okay that you couldn’t force yourself to do the impossible. You gave everything, and that's what matters. Sometimes, stuff happens, and you end up outclassed."

You huff a sigh, sniffling lightly. Then slowly nod.

"Okay, okay, I see your point."

She caresses your face.

"Good. I love you."

You give what you can of a smile.

"I love you too."

----------------------

Upon return to the hotel, you're all invited for an afterparty and taking the opportunity to let off some steam, you all accept.

You half collapse on the bed in your room while waiting for the bathroom to empty so you can shower properly.

A thought comes to mind. Why hadn't you planned anything more for today?

Charlie woke you up with flowers and delivered (pre approved) breakfast. She snuck you extra coffee in the morning every day. She made sure you had your gear back clean and organised and folded while dealing with everything she needed to do as a player.

She'd made sure you both had the night together last night.

Hell, she made you laugh in one of the most heartbreaking settings a player can go through at a World Cup even though she barely got minutes on the field herself.

What had you done?

Given her a heart attack when you went down and played one game together, that and a terrible apology earlier after the game.

After chatting with Mini, Kyra, and Harper, though try as she might, little Harper wasn't as much help as the other two, you set up a roof top date, rented out one of the top suites in the hotel for the night and promised Tony more media duty for the next month than the whole team combined in exchange for the night off.

So that's where you decide you have to do something.

----------------------

You arranged a little food delivery, snuck out to drop by a few stores, and bought some last-minute flower arrangements and a few packets of rose petals.

You also stopped by a jewellery store to pick up a necklace you knew she'd been looking at while you were out on the team morning walk.

Now, you just had to convince Charlie to stay in with you without it being suspicious.

With it being about thirty minutes before the team was set to leave, you knock on the door to the room Charlie shared with Kyra, ignoring your muscles screaming at you after you'd told Charlie you'd still go with her to the afterparty.

She looked like she didn't quite believe you, and questioned your pain level but you insisted you were fine and that you were happy to go out, knowing she needed to have something to do other than the usual team stuff.

Kyra opens the door, but the moment she spots you, and you give her a nod, she turns back to Charlie. "Hey Cha Cha, your girl's here."

Charlie looks up, a smile gracing her lips but mild confusion joining it.

"I thought we were meeting down at the bus."

You shake your head, immediately having to go over the plan in your head again.

Everything was making you nervous at this point, but you had to fight for your life to not let any nervous tics show. Lord knows your girlfriend would spot them in a heartbeat.

"Actually, change of plans. I convinced Tony to let us skip and found a really nice place for us to go for dinner. I know we haven't had too much time together lately, aside from last night, which I wanted to thank you for."

Charlie's expression softens, and she hops up to come over to you, immediately pulling you in for a tight hug.

"Baby, you don't have to thank me for anything, I'm more than glad for any time we spend together. Saying that, I will take you up on that offer."

You grin and let your lips meet hers for a moment. Of course, you hear a gagging noise from Kyra.

"You two are so sweet, it's actually fucking gross."

Charlie rolls her eyes and turns back to you, arms still around you.

"Come back in about twenty and we can go?"

"Fifteen, I have to show you something first."

"Baby, c'mon, you know my makeup takes forever, twenty, please?"

She bats her eyelashes at you, and you roll your eyes lovingly and peck her lips.

"Fine, twenty."

"Whipped."

"Shut the fuck up, Kyra."

----------------------

"Okay, when you said you were showing me something, I didn't think you meant breaking onto the roof. Why are we coming up this way anyway? You're gonna get us both in trouble."

You seemingly don't hear her protests as you both walk down the hallway to the roof access.

"Seriously, I love you, but now is not the time to fulfil your 'sex under the stars' fantasy."

You roll your eyes and open the door, and start to ascend the steps. She's looking around nervously at the security cameras and nearly stops behind you.

"Y/n, seriously, you're gonna get us into shit with the hotel. We can't be up here. I love you, but why are you bringing me into this again?"

You stop suddenly and turn, grabbing her by the face and kiss her.

"Because you love me, and you follow me anywhere."

She groans, knowing full well she can't argue with you. As much as she vehemently denies it and gets teased for it, she'd follow you off a cliff or into outer space if she had to choose.

You continue up the steps, and when you reach the door to the roof, you step aside and gesture for her to go through first.

"Ladies first."

She huffs at you and moves around you to open the door.

"You're such a little shit, honestly."

Hand to your chest, you gasp softly.

"You wound me." It's said with a teasing smile.

The moment she opens the door, she freezes, tears coming to her eyes.

The roof is set out with an outdoor garden and a pergola with vines wrapping the wood. However, a white clothed table sat directly in the middle, a longer one off to the side with shared dishes that you both love and miss having now that you're away at the World Cup.

The ground and the tables are sprinkled with rose petals, and there's various vases of flowers around.

She realizes now why you'd been so insistent, and when she turns back to you, she can see only pure love and admiration radiating back at her.

The suit you were wearing was perfectly fitted, and it seems the moment she looked away, you'd clipped a small rose to your pocket.

Charlie has to tilt her head back slightly to avoid letting the tears ruin her makeup.

"Happy Anniversary, my love."

Her hand comes up to cover her mouth as she looks back at you, fighting off tears.

"Baby, did you really do all this?"

You give her a shy smile, running your hand through your hair.

"It was last minute, but lately, you've been doing so much for me, and for us as a couple, I had to do something. I love you and appreciate you so much, and I won't ever feel like I'm doing enough for what you deserve. I'd give you the world if I could."

She laughs and grabs you by the hands to pull you closer.

"God, I love you so much. You're doing so much more than you'll ever know. Happy anniversary. Thank you for doing this for us."

You smile widely and cup her cheek, giving her a quick kiss and gesture to the table.

"Hungry?"

She looks over at the food on the table set out for you and nods quickly.

"You got me my favourite comfort foods. Hell yes, I'm hungry."

You chuckle, and you both dish up from the transportable warmers.

You settle down to eat, chatting about the day and looking back on some fond memories from your early days.

"I can't believe I let you sign me up for a whole go-karting season. As fun as that was, you drive really weirdly dangerous compared to how you drive a regular car."

"Do not, I'm just free spirited when I'm in a mini race car, that's all."

"Baby, you intentionally sent someone off the track because they nudged me trying to go around me."

"That was a fair response. Thank you very much. He was an asshole and he was pretty much fine after anyway"

"The poor guy ended up with a broken arm."

You go silent for a second, and Charlie has an amused look on her face.

"But.. he tried to take you out, it was only fair." You pout.

"Yeah, but baby, you got us banned from that go-karting place for life. I'm 90 percent sure they blacklisted you, too."

"Look, I'm just saying Rich asshole wants to lay wheels on my girl. He ain't walking away without a few scars, okay? Plus, it's better than that time you got us kicked from Paintballing."

"They should've kept their dicks in their pants."

"Clearly, they had to, considering you shot all of them in the crotch."

"Their problem for not wearing the supplied crotch guards."

"Yes, and the instructor was clearly impressed with that effort."

"I did try to tell him they wouldn't stop flirting with you, so they needed a reality check. Plus, I did just say it wasn't intentionally aimed that way while we were fighting."

"They were your teammates. We were on opposite sides of the course."

Charlie pouts and moves around her food slightly.

"Still didn't stop them from trying to get your number at the end of it. I saw you giving something to them by the way."

You raise your hands slightly in mock surrender.

"I may or may not have given them the number to that radio station that broadcasts all the creepy voicemails and texts they get from guys who purposefully get given the wrong number."

Her eyes crinkle with laughter as tries to cover the sound, the melodious noise making your heart warm. You could listen to it all day, every day.

"Oh god, please tell me you've got the broadcast somewhere."

"Maybe. It requires payment for viewing though."

Charlie raises a brow at you. "Yeah?"

You tilt your head playfully. "Yeah, sorry baby, only acceptable payments are kisses."

She hums, nodding.

"Remind me later and I'll take you up on that offer."

"Aw, no fun." You pout softly.

"Baby, we're enjoying the night to ourselves. We have plenty of time for kissing."

"Speaking of, Tony knows we're not gonna be in our rooms tonight."

She tilts her head slightly.

"I may have booked us a room for the night separately."

Her heart absolutely melts at your words, and she wordlessly grabs your hand over the table.

You wiggle your eyebrows. "Wait 'til you see the room."

She giggles softly, shaking her head.

"God, I love you."

Your eyes water, heart beating faster.

"I love you too."

Should this be it? The moment you finally used that damn box that's been tucked under three layers of old socks and giving you a world of anxiety?

Not yet.

The velvet lined case was like lead in your pocket though, and if you didn't do it soon, she'd probably get sick of waiting and do it for you.

You knew she knew you were waiting to propose. She was only waiting for you to do it.

You hold it back and suck back tears before she sees them. You continue eating, and her laughter fills the air as you do everything you can to keep her laughing throughout the night.

Later on, under the caressing melody coming from a speaker you had set out beneath the table, you and Charlie sway together. The moonlight filtering through the vines of the pergola leaves a soft dappled glow across your skin and surrounds.

Your heart flutters as her hands trace the contours of your shoulders before moving back to settle on your neck.

A tender smile tugs at your lips, warmth spreading through you as you feel her fingers play with the hairs at the nape of it.

You can feel the squeeze of your fingers on her waist beneath them, holding her like you never want to let go. Your shared breath intermingles in the space between you, a bridge between your shared love making your heart race.

You take the moment to just ruminate. Your heart replays the moments that have brought you here.

The shared completion of your dreams, the laughter, the moments of disappointment, and the hard times you got stuck in that you had to work out how to navigate.

In all of it, one thing remained consistent.

Charlie.

Your rock. Your love. Your confidant. The person who stood by you at your worst and raised you up at your best. The woman you were so sure couldn't possibly return your feelings just four years ago.

And yet here you were, stood embraced under the moonlit glow of the night, just hours after a fourth place finish at the World Cup.

And yet here you were, holding the love of your life in your hands, her holding you like you'll slip away at a moments notice. That's when you know you're gonna marry this woman.

This beautiful, light, courageous, caring, kind human being was yours.

Her fingers in your hair send shivers down your spine and her lips murmuring sweet nothings to you course through your gut like your blood flows through your veins.

You live in the moment for as long you can before you can tell exhaustion is starting to set in a little between the both of you.

"Come on, love. I can tell you're tiring a bit there. Wanna head in for the night?"

Her lips meet yours softly in a brief but reassuring kiss. "I'm not done with you yet."

Your lips move to her neck with light ghostings across her skin.

"We've got time, baby, all night if you want."

Her sigh and slight head tilt urge you on.

"Lead the way then."

---------------------- **

Under the soft sheets of the bed, you lay propped up on your side, elbow holding your head above the blonde girl beside you, fingers gently tracing her stomach as the breathlessness relaxes into calm once again.

Charlie moves to turn onto her side to face you properly.

"Please tell we didn't let that food go to waste up there?"

Your laugh from there makes her pout slightly.

"I just gave you some of the best three orgasms you've had and your first thought is that?"

Your tone is teasing, and she whines, shoving you lightly.

"I just feel bad is all." You reassure her quickly.

"Don't worry, I made sure my assistants had the food wrapped up and put in storage for now."

"Assistants?" She cocks a brow and you move to straddle her bare waist.

"Yup, my assistants."

"Uhuh, also what makes you think these were the best three orgasms I've had."

You gawk slightly, hands now settling on her ribcage.

"Oh, you've had better have you?"

She braces, slightly hands settling against your wrists, knowing where this is going.

"Mhm, maybe."

Your gleam turns mischievous, and your fingers start to twitch at her sides.

"Is that so?"

Her laughter rings out as you tickle her, squealing slightly and trying to shove your hands away as you relentless torture the poor woman.

"Baby, please! I'm sorry, that was a lie! Please!"

"Oh, was it now? Who gave you the best, huh?"

"You did! you always do, nobody else!"

You slow your ministrations and lean down to take her lips with yours as she calms her breathing again.

"Damn right."

Her breathing turns to soft sighs as you trail your kisses down, resting at her abdomen, tracing the soft lines of her stomach.

It's like everything hits you all at once, the moment she's in your lap, rocking her hips into your hand, your lips trailing up her neck and she breathlessly whimpers your name when your fingers curl inside her.

The moment her legs start to shake and the high of her orgasm reaches, it's out of your lips before you can stop it.

"Marry me."

It catches her off guard, her eyes shooting open slightly as she cries out, clenching around you.

**(if you wanna read the proposal)**

Her breathing calms, and her head moves forward from having been lulled back.

"You wanna repeat that?" It's not said with anger, only a soft undertone of surprise.

Your cheeks turn red at that. You mutter it again.

"Please marry me?"

You don't expect the soft laugh that accompanies it.

"Baby, that was the most unorthodox way you could have proposed."

The tips of your ears are now burning too, and you turn your head slightly to avoid her gaze but she grabs your face and kisses you hard.

"God, yes, I'll marry you."

You grin hard and kiss her again.

You pull away, slipping out from under her to grab your discarded suit pants from the floor, digging out the box.

A soft sigh, leaving your lips as you, still naked, lower yourself to your good knee.

"I was planning on doing it after dinner, but I half chickened out, and now I'm doing this. I wanted to give you a proper proposal, one that you deserve and one that'll you'll remember for the rest of our lives. While the second half may be true, I'm disappointed for not doing it earlier."

She moves to the edge of the bed, tears starting to slip down her cheeks.

"I love you so much. You've been there for me when I wouldn't let anyone else in. You've been my rock, my whole world. You supported me when I was ready to give up. You've lifted me up when we've both been triumphant and you've given me every bit of your heart you could and I love you so much for it and I want, if you'll let me, to spend the rest of our lives repaying it by giving the same back to you."

You pop open the ring box.

"Charlotte Layne Grant. Will you do the honour of making the happiest woman in Brisbane, Australia, and marry me?"

Her laugh is choked up with soft sobs as she nods. "Of course I'll fucking marry you."

Her hands pull you up onto the bed again, kissing you hard and you catch yourself from falling onto her entirely, ringbox still in hand.

You pull away just enough, tears now streaming down your own face, too.

You show her the ring, and she finally gets a glimpse of it. It's a custom, rose gold ring with roses and a deep set diamond with two rubies set on either side at the top. There's also something engraved on the inside.

The moment she reads the inscription, she covers her mouth to stop her sobs.

You look at her worried.

"Is it okay? Are you okay? I didn't know if-"

She tackles you back onto the mattress, and you nearly fall off the bed entirely, just barely managing to catch yourselves.

"I love it, it's perfect."

On the inside, it says.

"To my love, my life, Charlotte Layne Grant-L/n"

"May you forever shine at your brightest, my superstar."

You help her slip the ring on, and her arms immediately wrap around your neck, and you bury your face in her hair, just sitting and holding her.

You finally did it.

You're marrying your superstar.

----------------------

[firstelevens]

40. letting go when there is an obstacle in their way and immediately grabbing each other’s hand again when they pass it + sambucky + f1 au?

40. letting go when there is an obstacle in their way and immediately grabbing each other’s hand again when they pass it

Everybody please clap; I managed to write an F1 AU fic without babies in it. (It probably won't happen again.) This one takes place immediately after the last scene of and I saved you the passenger seat.

Bucky's heart is thudding so hard behind his rib cage that he's sure Sam can feel it, too, a hummingbird flutter pressed between them. He can hear cameras flashing around them, punctuated by the rising pitch of surprised exclamations, but all Bucky can really bring himself to care about in the moment is the way that Sam's mouth moves against his. Even when they pull apart again, Bucky can't help but go in for one last peck, and then another, and then another.

"I love you," he murmurs, before he finally makes himself move away from Sam. Somewhere between the surprise visit and the kissing and the unplanned announcement of their relationship to all the press milling around the Stark garage, Bucky had managed to forget that this is technically Sam's place of work, and maybe there should be a vague semblance of professionalism in the air.

Still, Sam doesn't let him move far: catches him by the forearm and pulls him back in, slipping his hand into Bucky's. "It doesn't say a whole lot about my skills in proposing that you're already running away," he says, grinning.

Bucky snorts. "If I've learned anything from Instagram, it's that I have to go post a picture of my ring finger and just caption it with the date and nothing else. I'm losing daylight here, Sam."

Sam laughs, pulling Bucky along with him as they walk over to Rhodey and Misty, ignoring the shouted questions of the journalists at the opening of the garage. Bucky still can't believe that he's getting to hold Sam's hand in public. For eighteen months, it's been stolen kisses and private tables at extra-discreet restaurants. Almost all of their dates have been at home or during weekend trips to picturesque B&Bs in towns full of senior citizens who definitely don't know who they are.

It's been quiet and gentle and absolutely glorious in its own way, but this...this is its own kind of heady, almost as much of a rush as Sam's proposal was. Bucky's heart is still pounding, and he couldn't wipe the grin off of his face if he tried. This is the love of my life, he wants to shout at the cameras and the reporters and the whole entire world. I found him in a place I never thought I'd get to return to, and now he's the only thing I want to always come home to.

But that would probably be bad form, and it would almost certainly be too muffled for the reporters to hear from where Bucky is standing, so he keeps his mouth shut and follows Sam's lead to the team principal.

Both Rhodey and Misty have known about Sam and Bucky's relationship for over a year, and if Bucky had been thinking about anything except Sam, he might have worried about their reactions, but it turns out that he doesn't have to.

"I assume you'll be skipping the press conference then?" asks Rhodey, his bored voice belied by the laughter in his eyes.

"I mean, I wanted to make an appearance so I could talk about track hygiene during qualifying, but somehow I think I wouldn't get any questions about that if I showed," says Sam.

"I would pay good money to the journalist who managed to ask a track hygiene question that was also about you two kissing in front of all those cameras," laughs Misty. "Congratulations, by the way. I don't know how you made it this far; I've never seen a couple so bad at hiding that they're in love."

"That's Bucky's fault," says Sam. "He doesn't know how to look at me with anything but puppy eyes."

"Yeah, Sam, I'm sure it was that and not the fact that there's photo evidence of you at multiple public events looking at me like you want to eat me."

Rhodey makes a face. "Okay, remind me to put you two in emergency publicity training before I let you in front of any microphones."

"But it would be so much more interesting if you didn't," says Bucky, wrinkling his nose. Publicity training sessions might be the stupidest part of being a famous athlete, and Bucky would know, because in his twenties, Scuda must have put him through at least forty of them. "Plus, you're not my boss anymore, so I think technically you can't tell me what to do."

"That's right," says Rhodey lightly, "but I am Sam's boss, so if you want to play the odds with his career, I'm sure you could-"

"We'll do the training," blurts Bucky. Sam gives his hand a squeeze of what he assumes is gratitude. "Just tell us when and we'll be there."

Rhodey nods, satisfied. "That's what I thought."

"So can we-" Sam starts to ask, but Rhodey nods again before he's finished.

"Get changed and get out of here, before the cameras manage to get past the engineers," Rhodey says. "And if either of you gets calls from any press, you--"

"Direct them to the Stark Motors team press office," Sam and Bucky chime in unison.

"We know," says Sam, smiling at Bucky. "We're not talking to anyone; I promise. I'll workshop a post with Peter tomorrow."

"Good," says Rhodey, then waves them off. "Now go."

Sam looks like he wants to say more, but Bucky chances a glance over his shoulder at the gathering group of journalists--now twice as big as it was--and gives Sam's hand a squeeze. "C'mon, sweetheart," he says, not caring if his voice carries. "Let's get out of here while we still can."

Surprisingly, Sam follows, letting Bucky lead him out of the garage and into the humid night air. There are cameras out here, too, but either they haven't noticed Sam and Bucky yet or they're used to dealing with polite Europeans and they're not equipped to chase a New Yorker. Whatever it is, Bucky puts his game face on and pulls Sam along--they don't have time for his Southern politeness, and he will say hi to everyone he passes if left to his own devices.

Up ahead, Bucky watches a SkySports cameraperson get some kind of message that makes them look up at him and Sam with wide eyes. Bucky just keeps moving forward, eyes on the doors to the Stark pen. When the camera ends up right in the middle of their path, Bucky keeps moving determinedly towards it, his and Sam's joined hands making it seem like the operator is about to get clotheslined.

At the last possible second, he drops Sam's hand, weaving around the camera. When they've moved past it, Bucky feels Sam take his hand again and grins like a fool. He raises their joined hands to his lips and kisses Sam's knuckles.

"All that fuss," he says, leaning in so that only Sam can hear, "and we haven't even told them that we got engaged."

Sam laughs. "We already gave them a free story. Let's save a revelation for the next Grand Prix."

Bucky snorts, drawing Sam close and slinging an arm around his shoulders without letting go of Sam's hand. "It's so hot when you talk strategy to me," he says drily, as they duck into the Stark pen.

"That might have more sting to it if it wasn't literally how I wooed you," says Sam. "You're a nerd, Barnes. You love race strategy. Race strategy has literally made you horny before. There's definitely a version of this world where you marry race strategy."

"Well," says Bucky, "in this timeline, race strategy is going to have to wait, because a professional athlete just proposed to me, and I'm not going to have my looks forever. Gotta lock him down while I still can."

"You're so stupid, you know that?" asks Sam, as they head up to his driver room.

"I've heard it once or twice before," says Bucky. "But I've also heard that you love me anyway."

"Well, you are nice to look at," says Sam. He pulls the door to the driver room shut behind them, and Bucky flips on the lights.

Bucky unzips his Stark jacket. "I'm actually very smart, you know."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah?"

"Uh-huh," says Bucky. "That's how I know that we're better off waiting in here for a while so the press thinks that we've already left, and then they'll leave us alone when we walk out of here."

There's a thoughtful hum from Sam. "And what are we supposed to do to pass the time in here?”

Bucky shrugs. "Make out to celebrate our engagement?"

"Oh, shit, you are smart," says Sam, with a laugh, and pulls Bucky closer so they can get started.

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Track 5: The Beginning of the End

Summary: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w.,

warnings: ANGST, drinking, drug use, smut, oral and fingering f receiving, p in v sex, the Harringtons make an appearance.

a/n: It has been a while my loves! If you've been following me at all, you know I've had a rough month. I really, truly appreciate every single one of you who has reached out and checked in! I appreciate you! This chapter is extra long to make up for lost time and it contains smut. It's my first time writing smut, so hopefully, I did not disappoint.

wc: 11.2K

MASTERLIST🎸

PLAY PREVIOUS TRACK 🎵

APRIL 28th, 1984 PHILADELPHIA , PA—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

If you wanted to be technical about it, the whole thing started with Argyle.

The two of you were backstage, sitting outside the dressing rooms killing time during the opener—some local band that you weren’t previously familiar with.

You had always appreciated Argyle’s ability to be friendly with everyone and float above the tensions, that was the case especially now when things with the others seemed to have fallen apart a little.

You were sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against the wall, as you were running him through some of the songs that had made the preliminary list for the next album and asking for his input while he threw a bouncy ball against the opposite wall. You liked working with Argyle, he was out of the box, creative, and one of the most technically skilled band members. You had been sitting with him for only 30 minutes and he had already made one of your songs infinitely better.

“What’s the move tonight, dude?” he asks you, nonchalantly as you scribbled down some of his suggested changes.

You shrug in response, “I dunno, I might just go home and sleep after this, maybe work on the arrangements for this—” You wave your beat-up notebook in the air, and he scoffs.

“You like never come out with us anymore,” he exclaims, “I miss when we all used to party together, dude. Now you are all dropping like flies and it’s not as fun anymore!”

It was your turn to scoff at him, “Please, I was never the life of the party, Argyle, c’mon.”

“Are you kidding, dude? People would always show up in droves to see you. Plus, you’re like totally fun. Remember when you and Steve did karaoke in Austin and you both got on the bar? That was totally cool.”

You chuckle at the memory and concede, “Yeah, that was pretty fun, but you still have everyone else!”

“Well, you took my dude Eddie too,” he points out without malice.

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t come out since St. Louis—keeps saying he’s gonna stay in just in case you want to write with him.”

Of course, this is news to you. You hadn’t taken up Eddie’s offer to write together since he had spurned you in Missouri (and since he starred in a very vivid dream of yours). It wasn’t that you didn’t accept his apology (presented in the form of a ridiculously large flower bouquet) it was that thing would have been far too awkward at this point.

It wasn’t that you had a crush on him necessarily, you were pretty sure that mantle was still taken up by Steve to some extent, it was more that there was an undeniable sexual something between the two of you below the surface that your dreams had made obvious and you didn’t trust yourself to be alone in a room with him without wanting to rip his clothes off.

Obviously, giving in to your desires was a bad idea for a multitude of reasons but chiefly, because:

a. It would wreak havoc on the band.

b. You were certain Eddie wouldn’t reciprocate your advances.

But then… you had heard what Argyle had said.

“Wait, are you saying Eddie has been hanging out after shows just on the off chance that I may call him?” You confirm incredulously.

Argyle nods in response, “Yeah. Did you put a spell on him or something?”

“No,” you respond wryly, “I’m not that type of witch, I’m the bad kind of witch.”

“Well, you definitely did something to the dude, he’s been obsessing over whether or not you hate him and keeps trying to get me to ask.”

This takes you aback completely. Eddie caring so much what you thought of him that he’d be willing to ask Argyle, of all people to discreetly scope that out seems improbable so you continue to probe.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, he obviously thinks you’re pretty and he’s just been waiting around for you to call him up, and he cares a lot about what you think of him, which is weird because last time I checked he kinda hated you—no offense.”

“How do you know all this?” You ask, ignoring the offense.

“He told me, duh.”

“Have you told anyone else this?”

“No one else has asked,” Argyle says plaintively.

“Well, how about we keep all of this between the three of us, then?” You propose.

Before the drummer can confirm, the thundering applause signaling that the opening act had wrapped up cut the conversation off.

Neither of you has the chance to continue the discussion before being rushed onto stage by a harried and high-strung stage manager.

Without knowing, Argyle had invertedly changed the course of everything.

***

EDDIE: We were in Philly. It was a great show—probably one of the best of that tour. The audience was feeling us the opener was sick and we were just gelling for what felt like probably the first time. It was like we were all finally on the same wavelength if that makes sense. No more guessing what the next move was or fighting to keep up. It was like we were finally learning to trust each other.

***

The Philly show was electric, all the elements had come together perfectly. You and Steve were particularly reveling in it. You spent most of the night singing into the same microphone, lips inches from one another, your hand grasping the back of his neck, fingers carding through his hair, and eye contact unbreaking. At one point, you were certain by the way he had captured your bottom lip under the meat of his thumb, that he was going to lean in and kiss you on the mouth, a barrier that the two of you had managed to maintain this whole time.

The audience must have had a similar thought by the sounds of their cheers—a sound that seemed to have shaken both you and Steve from whatever spell you had been under because the next thing you know the pressure of his thumb was gone and his eyes were turned away from you and towards the crowd.

The rest of the show was spent similarly—the two of you toeing the line and the audience following your every move. It was easy to get addicted both to the applause and the intimacy.

After the encores were sung and the last bows were taken, though, Steve was back to barely being able to look at you.

The only time his gaze does flit to you, ever-briefly, is when you politely decline Argyle’s invitation to go out after the show.

“Come on dude, you said you would come if I looked at your song,” the drummer gives a half-hearted attempt at bargaining which only makes you giggle.

“I never said that Argyle,” and truly you hadn’t, “I said that I couldn’t go out because I had to make those changes you suggested.”

In response, Argyle begins to boo you, loudly and the others join in eagerly.

You roll your eyes playfully and bid goodbye to Argyle and the rest of the band when you part ways for the night and you notice that other than yourself, Eddie is the only one missing from the boisterous group but you try not to think too much on it.

Your efforts to push all thoughts of Eddie out of your mind seemed to have the opposite effect and it was like the thoughts themselves were digging their heels in and had found your mind to be a welcoming home.

You had made the song changes you had told Argyle you would and even tried to make some progress on your plethora of unfinished songs. As it turned out, you worked slower when you wrote alone.

You knew that as the remaining tour dates dwindled and the band’s return to LA drew closer, you eventually would have to approach Eddie again to write together. It was indisputable that whatever the two of you produced together was almost always better than what you accomplished alone.

How could you possibly approach him when you could barely look at him without dying of mortification? With Steve, at least, you could get some of the sexual energy out on stage, but with Eddie you didn’t have the same luxury and it stayed bottled up.

All of this, along with Argyle’s words from earlier in the evening made focusing nearly impossible and you gave up on writing all together, deciding to call it a night and head to bed. To your chagrin, the better part of the night was spent tossing and turning trying to evict the thoughts and ideas that had begun to formulate in your mind fueled by a lack of sleep, stress and desperation. And suddenly, you had an idea.

Admittedly, it was not a very good idea. It was actually probably a very bad idea. A ruinous idea even. And yet, you found yourself pulling the covers off yourself and stumbling into a pair of slippers, perplexed by your actions. You wondered, as you blearily shuffled down the identical hotel halls why you weren’t trying to talk yourself out of this idea—one that you were certain was going to change everything. Perhaps you were itching for a new thrill. Or maybe you were as selfish as everyone seemed to believe. Maybe it was the poison that had settled in your heart before you were old enough to know better, insisting that there was no other option for you. Or maybe you were giving yourself far too much credit and you were simply horny.

Whatever the reason, it brought you directly to Eddie Munson’s door.

***

EDDIE: I swear I thought I was dreaming when I saw her there, standing outside my door in this tiny pajama top and even tinier short. They had little cherries on them. I remember thinking they were so cute. Her hair was all a mess. I thought that was cute too.

After probably 5 minutes of us standing there in the doorway, I finally got my brain to work enough to invite her in. She seemed nervous at first. Sort of paced around the room, not saying anything for a while and then—I swear to God—she asks, “Do you want to sleep with me?” out of fucking nowhere. If I hadn’t been there myself, I would’ve never believed it. Hell, even telling you now, part of me thinks I made it up.

My brain short-circuited because I couldn’t even respond. I just stared at her with my jaw on the fucking floor, trying to remember what the signs of a stroke were.

***

“Are you serious?” Eddie spits out, voice hoarse with shock at your overly-direct question.

You nod, wordlessly, trying to ignore the panic that has begun to set in.

“Why?” he presses.

You shrug, which he doesn’t find sufficient because he nods along, trying to draw the reasons from you.

“We both like sex,” you explain, clumsily, “and I find you attractive and I think you find me attractive, too—” he nods feverishly at this—“so why not have some fun?”

You try to say this last part enticingly but aren’t sure you pulled it off until you see a flush play itself across his pretty features.

“Why me? Why not Harrington?”

Even though you had anticipated the question, you can’t help but steel yourself as you respond, “Because we like each other enough for it to be fun but not enough for either of us to get attached.”

You watched, with bated breath as the thoughts played out over Eddie’s features and when you see a flash of what could be hurt you entertain for the briefest moment, the idea that maybe someone could get hurt but the thought is pushed away as a lazy grin begins to spread over his face and a newfound cockiness color his features.

Suddenly, he is much closer, and the space between your two bodies draws thin.

“Now?” he asks.

“Yes, now,” you squeak out as he encroaches in on you, fingertips grazing the bare skin on your hips.

You take a step towards him, moving to stand flush against his hip, invitingly and weave a hand through his unruly bed head curls. You want him to know how much you want this—how much you’ve wanted this. It was inevitable really, there had always been a tension between the two of you. Whether it was the hot friction of dislike , the bold spark of creative partnership or the hot embers of sexual tension, the two of you burned for one another just the same.

He leans in for a kiss when your impatience gets the best of you and you rush to meet him halfway.

He tastes like cigarettes and cherries, a taste you revel in as his lips move languidly over yours. Suddenly, he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and lightly tugs, and a moan tumbles out of you.

“We can’t tell anyone,” you mutter into the kiss and it goes unacknowledged.

The cold of his rings meets your nipples through the thin fabric of your strappy pajama top and your body arches in response.

The kiss is broken you are left gasping for air. Eddie wastes no time in attaching his lips to your neck, his tongue tracing over your collarbone hotly.

The straps of your top are shucked of your shoulders and the fabric bunched down towards your middle and a trail of kisses following in its wake.

Your knees hit the edge of the bed, and the hands in your waist guide you down in a fluid motion.

Your eyes flutter as wet kisses are peppered over your breasts.

“Come on princess, let me hear those pretty noises,” Eddie murmurs into your skin, his hot breath covering you in goosebumps.

A heady moan escapes you, almost on command. It would’ve embarrassed you if you still had the decency to care.

A trail of kisses and suddenly Eddie is thumbing at the waistband of your shorts. You nod fervently when his eyes suddenly trail up to find you, but that’s not enough for him.

“Come on, baby,” he teases, “tell me what you want.”

You throw your head back in frustration and want and Eddie takes this lapse in response to run his hand sloppily over your clothed core.

“So wet,” he murmured, “so pretty.”

You let out a desperate laugh at this and his eyes are back on you, expectantly and any resistant you have dissipates.

“Touch me, please,” you sigh, half plea, half demand.

It’s not a hard sell because your shorts and underwear are gone in a flash and cold rings are pulling your thighs wide open.

You reach out towards Eddie’s curls for purchase, gently tugging him closer to your core, hoping he’d get the message.

A moment of clarity cuts through your haze and suddenly you’re pulling him up by his hair, forcing eye contact.

“No one can know,” you insists.

He’s all half-lidded eyes and dazed smile when he’s looking at you.

Leaning in to grab his jaw in your palm, you pull him close. This is important.

“Eddie, no one can know. Promise me,” you repeat again.

He nods in agreement, even though his expression leads you to believe you could’ve asked anything in that moment and he would’ve readily acquiesced.

“No one can know,” he affirms before hitching your body closer with a harsh tug on your thighs and disappearing in between your legs, mouth latching hotly to where you need him the most.

***

EDDIE: We started sleeping together that night. A no strings attached type thing. We had to keep it a secret. She didn’t want to hurt Harrington’s feelings which I understood. He was a good guy and anyone could tell he was head over heels for her.

And she was just… well, I guess she was just afraid. We were kind of the same in that way. Couldn’t hold onto anything without crushing it into dust.

***

MAY 1st, 1984–STATEN ISLAND, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

Eddie’s hands are curled around your thighs, keeping your body balanced on the flimsy tour bus bathroom sink. His silver rings dig into the soft flesh of your thigh in a way that you are certain will leave bruises in their wake.

You have to be quiet, you know that. Even if the rest of the band had taken a quick pit stop between Philly and New York to explore the Staten Island Zoo and the likelihood of them coming back this early was low, it wasn’t non-existent . This left you stifling your own moans into the back of your hand as Eddie rocked into you languidly and delicious.

Your hand moved to steady itself behind you as he lets go of your left thigh and places the pad of his thumb on the soft flesh of your clit, causing you to forget nearly everything.

He seems to anticipate your next move though, because his mouth is quickly on yours, tongue gliding over your bottom lip and effectively keeping you quiet.

The angle of his hips meeting your core and his nimble fingers worked together to bring you closer to your release.

“I can feel it, baby, you’re close aren’t you?”

You nod feverishly, eyes screwed shut, “Yes, so good Eds. I’m gonna cum,” you manage to squeak out.

“C’mon pretty girl, look at me,” Eddie instructs firmly, but you can tell by the strain in his voice that he’s not too far behind, “wanna see you when you cum.”

You force your eyes open and he rewards you by pressing his unoccupied thumb into your bottom lip which you greedily take into your mouth.

Your release washes over you in a wave and you watch moments later as Eddie finds his own.

The two of you are left panting for a few moments as you try to steady yourselves. Once you find your bearings, you lower yourself from the sink and adjust the sundress that was so carelessly shucked to your hips and Eddie busies himself with disposing of the condom discreetly.

Turning to the bathroom mirror, you make an attempt at taming your haphazard hair and fixing your smudged lipstick before making a move for the door.

“Well, that was nice,” you offer before spilling into the tour bus’s common space.

“Wait,” Eddie cries out as he’s still adjusting his belt, “where are you going?”

You shrug nonchalantly in response but don’t turn around, “Back to the girls’ bus.”

“You don’t want to… you don’t want to stick around maybe? We could do some writing?” Eddie sounds out of breath when he asks but you chalk it up to the sex.

“Better not. It might look suspicious,” you explain as you take the stops down from the bus, two at a time.

“Right, wouldn’t want that,” Eddie squeaks out and you smile back at him, grateful for his understanding.

“See you later, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything back, but when you look back after having boarded your own bus, he’s still standing on the bottom step, eyes still on you.

***

EDDIE: Let’s get the record straight about something though, I didn’t steal her away from anyone. She is her own person first of all, not some thing to be stolen. And second of all, she came to me first. Not the other way around. And! She and Harrington weren’t even really seeing each other. So, other than the lying, it truthfully wasn’t that bad.

But then again, does the truth even matter? Especially now? After everything?

INTERVIEWER: It does to me and to you too, I think, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.

EDDIE: Has anyone ever told you you’re too smart for your own good?

***

MAY 3rd, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

It was easy, really, to keep your fling with Eddie a secret from the rest of the band. Most of them were barely paying attention to what you were doing anyway.

Nancy and Jonathan were once again preoccupied with waiting by the phone to hear from Jonathan’s mother, Joyce. Will’s condition had once again worsen and the two were on high alert.

Robin and Steve were busy sightseeing and pointedly only talking to you when necessary. They weren’t hostile, per se, (or at least, Steve wasn’t) but they also made a point to not invite you to their outing. You want to tell them to be wary of the paps since the city is crawling with them in a matter akin to cockroaches but you know better than to try to tell Robin what to do.

Argyle, for his part, is in his own world.

The two of you were essentially in the clear barring rehearsals, shows and any stray public appearance. Still, you couldn’t help but want to take precautions.

***

EDDIE: She would never sleep over. You know, after. She was too worried about what would happen if Steve or anyone else went looking for her.

It shouldn’t have bothered me as much as it did, she—we had made it very clear that this was a purely physical thing but, well, between you and me kid, I always knew it was never gonna be like that. At least not for me. I was in deep for way longer than I had realized.

***

Long, skilled fingers trace patterns along your naked spine. The movements are comforting, calming, you almost find yourself lulled to sleep. Except you know you shouldn’t—that you can’t.

Your eyes flutter open as you fight against the sleep that sets in. This isn’t your bed, you remind yourself, and you feel that in the brush of the sheets against your naked body that definitively do not feel like the sheets of your bed merely a few doors down. It’s a silly thought, truly, these sheets are probably the exact same as the ones on your bed and more so, you haven’t slept in your bed, a bed that is truly, strictly your own in years . Still, this does not feel quite right.

You will your body to stir, working actively against every nerve that is telling you not to move from the warm, comfortable haven you had found and the warm body next to you but you know better. This is a dance you’re familiar with: they ask you to stay but don’t really mean it and if they do it’s only to squeeze another quick fuck in.

“Why don’t you stay?” Eddie grumbles into your shoulder even though both of you already know the answer.

“What if someone comes looking for me, huh?” A question for a question, “it’ll be hard to explain to Hopper why I’m naked in your bed.”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the only ones Hopper doesn’t have to keep tabs on,” Eddie’s only partially playful in saying this.

“I miss my bed,” you rebut, plainly and the guitarist pouts in response.

“This is like the same bed, dude.”

“ ‘Dude’? You’ve been hanging out with Argyle way too much.”

“Whatever,” Eddie dismisses as his hand travels down along your spine to circle around the rise of your hip to the front of your body to pull you closer against his chest and you squeal.

His skilled fingers travel down to the apex of your legs and two of them swipe through your still-wet heat making you jolt. You’re still sensitive from earlier in the night and Eddie is using that to his advantage as he swipes over your clit.

You moan at the contact and your hips canter forward embarrassingly quickly.

“Don’t want to leave now, do you?” Eddie teases as he moves away from your clit to tease your entrance and you mewl in response. Before you know it a pair of lips are attached to your neck and two fingers are slowly, deliciously rocking in and out of your core. A hand moves up to grip Eddie by the hair as you moan.

“Just like that, please keep going.”

You feel Eddie’s length begin to harden against your back as his pace quickens and his thumb circles your clit bringing you closer to your third orgasm of the night.

“No fair,” you pant, as you feel a tightening in your lower stomach. “You can’t keep me around by giving me orgasms.”

He laughs at this, full-blown guffaws. “There’s no rule against it,” he says as his tongue slides over the shell of your ear. His fingers curl inside you and you gasp at the sudden pressure before succumbing to the feeling. Your release washes over you, unexpectedly and you cry out.

A few seconds reprieve give you a moment to come back to earth. You sigh contently feeling Eddie’s harden length against the swell of you ass.

It would be impolite to leave him hanging.

***

EDDIE: Not that I could complain about our arrangement.

***

You had fallen asleep. Accidentally, of course, but erroneously still. You realize this far too late as the harsh red numbers of the hotel room alarm clock blare at you angrily: 11:52 AM.

You scramble out of bed, covers flung in the process and you make a grab for your clothes that litter the floor. The sudden, frantic movement had inadvertently awoken the man sleeping next to you and you could hear the sleep in his voice as he tried to grasp the situation.

“Woah, woah where’s the fire, princess?”

“It’s nearly noon!” you respond, panic clear in your voice. “I accidentally fell asleep and now it’s almost noon!”

Your mind is overcome with worst case scenarios and conclusions that are easily jumped to as you imagine how this late morning can turn into your downfall.

Eddie tries valiantly to calm you down to no avail. You had done the one thing you said you never would: you stayed the night and now you didn’t know what to do with that other than panic and rush out the door half dressed and fully angered with yourself throwing a paltry goodbye to a very disoriented Eddie over your shoulder as you did so.

You try to fix your hair in the elevator along with your harried breath. Most of the band wake up late into the day, you try to remind yourself, especially after a night out.

It was not unusual to be walking the halls of your hotel room at this time, but you still felt overwhelmingly nervous walking back to your room in a way that you felt obviously gave away that you were coming back from a night of raunchy sex.

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the elevator doors slid open to reveal Steve Harrington waiting outside your door. This is what you were afraid of. Certainly one look at you and he’d know exactly what you were doing and probably with who and that would spell the end of the Downsides, you were sure of it.

You didn’t say anything as you exited the elevator and slowly made your way over, hoping to prolong the moment before everything came crumbling down as much as you could.

A few steps in and you had caught Steve’s attention. When he looked at you though, it wasn’t with anger or disappointment but with nerves.

***

STEVE: My parents moved around a lot after I left home. Indianapolis, Chicago, Phoenix in the winter and Bridgeport in the summer, you know, regular rich folks shit.

It’s not like I could ever go back home but when they heard the band was planning on making the stop they wanted me to visit them and they wanted me to bring my girlfriend to meet them.  I hadn’t wanted to ask then, things were kind of awkward between the two of us, but they kept insisting. It’s like they didn’t believe I could’ve bagged a girl like her and they were willing to call me on it. So, I had no other choice but to ask.

***

You understood where Steve was coming from, truly, your own parents were rich and demanding. Plus, something about seeing your fake boyfriend waiting at your door after a night sleeping with someone else really made you susceptible to his request.

And really, there wasn’t a universe where you would say no to a request from  Steve Harrington, so of course you were going to meet his parents.

***

MAY 6th, 1984–NEW YORK CITY, NY—30 ROCKEFELLER PLAZA

“So I heard you’re meeting the in-laws,” Eddie plops down in the makeup seat next to you

You’re backstage at The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer, getting ready for one of the few media appearances Hopper had managed to schedule during the band’s short stint in the city.

You can tell by the pinching between Eddie’s eyes and the snarl in his tone that he’s not in a good mood. You chock up his demeanor to the same thing that has dampened yours: the upcoming interview.

The lack of media appearances had been a welcomed change during the band’s time on the road and the adjustment back to them have been rocky. You, for one, are on edge at the idea of having to sit down with the smarmy, sexist, Chris Palmer who, on his late night show, had already taken a few swings at you for laughs and the thought of him having the chance to do so to your face, made you sick.

Which was why you barely responded to Eddie’s attempt t goading you and instead, shrug in response, tightly, “I guess.”

His eyes flit over you and his demeanor shift to one approximating concern. “Hey, you doing okay?” He moves closer, but not enough for it to be noticeable to anyone but you.

“Yeah,” you try to smile but it comes out a grimace, “just out of practice I guess.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I have an extra copy of Baldwin that I brought on accident if you want a distraction,” the book flashes in your periphery and this time your smile comes out genuine and unprompted.

While you can’t be one hundred percent certain, you’re familiar enough with the guitarist’s ways to know that this was no accident—he brought the book with you in mind.

You make a grab for it but have to keep yourself from leaning in for a hug at the risk of the others’ scrutiny and your makeup artist’s ire. Not knowing how else to communicate your appreciation, you give his shirt a quick—and hopefully discreet—tug.  He seems to catch your drift because his fingers graze yours purposefully as you move your hand away.

The brief touch shoots electricity through you.

“Thanks,” you murmur before watching him jaunt away to his spot between Argyle and Jonathan, both of your moods seemingly lifted, if only for a moment.

You’re grateful for the distraction although it barely keeps your attention and instead end up thumbing through the pages anxiously to the chagrin of your makeup artist who is clearly relieved to pass you onto hair once the final touches of lipstick are applied.

You thank her profusely before moving next door where, to the surprise of exactly no one, you’re sat next to Steve. Or at least you think it’s Steve you’re sat next to given how little you can see through the thick mass of hairspray clouding the air.

“They don’t call me ‘The Hair’ for nothing, right?” He says when you catch his eye through the fumes.

His hair stylists laughs a little too hard for your taste and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“I thought you hated that nickname,” you say, settling into your chair, ready to play your part as the doting girlfriend.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “there are worst things to be called.”

You scoff in response, your previous concerns regarding tonight’s host bubbling up again, “I am sure there are.”

Steve turns to you fully now, offering a charming apology to his stylist that leaves her a giggling puddle, and you can feel his eyes scanning you in assessment.

He suddenly reaches over to the vanity in front of him, “The vending machine in the hall is totally broke, it gave me four candy bars. Do you want one?”

You look over at the bars in his hand which he has fanned evenly and is waving as if they’re a wad of cash and you grab one out of his reach.

“These are my favorite,” you point out as you smooth a hand over the wrapper, remembering all the times you would raid the vending machines at venues or backstage before an interview for them.

“I know,” he says, impishly.

“Harrington, be straight with me, is the machine really broken or did you get me my favorite candy bar just to butter me up?”

He nods,  self-satisfied, like a little kid happy to be caught doing something that they’ll know they’ll get away with. Your joint hairstylists coo in adoration at your dotting “boyfriend” and you can’t help but roll your eyes affectionately.

“You seem a bit nervous,” he explains, “and candy usually helps.”

You exhale a laugh at this and admit that he’s right, “candy usually does help,” before nibbling on the bar carefully  for the sake of your lipstick.

“So, what’s up?” He asks after a beat, while the hairstylists are preoccupied cleaning their tools, “are you nervous about doing our thing again?”

He says the last part with an overly-dramatic eyebrow waggle and you giggle.

What do you mean?” You ask, avoiding his glance.

He almost rolls his eyes at this but catches himself, knowing better.

“You just seem off, like nervous almost? But not in the usual way you are nervous about interview, but like different. Normally you’re just nervous because you overthink it but now it’s like you’re dreading it.”

You snort at the way he saw right through you.

“It’s stupid but, Chris Palmer has made jokes about me in the past, you know, about my dating history and things like that and I’m not really looking forward to hearing what he has to say tonight,” you explain, bashfully.

“What do you mean? Do you and Chris know each other?”

“No,” you respond, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, “he just is, you know, one of those comedians who pokes fun at celebrities and he loves making fun of women who ‘get around’ or whatever and well, that was my reputation before you… and the band.”

You see realization dawn on Steve’s features, it’s almost like he doesn’t believe anyone could ever be mean to you.  Realization quickly turns to anger.

“And you think he’ll make fun of you tonight in the same way? In front of everyone?”

You shrug at this, “maybe, he’s not exactly known for taking it easy on his guests, but I’m used to it, it’s annoying though.”

Steve shakes his head aggressively at your dismissal and bolts up from his char, “No, I’m going to go talk to Hopper or something, have him tell Palmer’s people he needs to cool it or we won’t perform.”

He’s marching down the hall now, purposeful and quick. You make a beeline after him running ahead to cut him off.

“Woah, hey, Steve, you do not need to do that.” The last thing you want is the band being labeled as difficult to work with this early on.

Standing in front of him with your hands flat on his chest, you suddenly become very aware of all the eyes peaking out of the different green rooms to watch the exchange curiously, band mates and crew alike.

Steve grabs one of your hands lightly in his and gives it a tepid squeeze.

“I’m sorry but I am not sitting up there tonight and listening to anyone say anything bad about you.  That’s just not going to happen, okay? Please trust me, I won’t do anything crazy, I’ll just talk to Hopper and we’ll figure this out. I have your back, remember?”

You study his face as he says this and are caught up in the earnestness etched into every corner of it.

“Okay,” you finally say, softly and back away from his path, “thanks.”

And you watch him go.

***

STEVE: Hopper hadn’t known about the Palmer thing. He wouldn’t have booked us if he did. When I told him, he was pretty peeved and we immediately went to go talk to the stage manager—some smarmy  guy whose name I don’t remember.

Told us essentially, that it was no use, that Palmer wrote his own material fresh before each show.

Well, after that, Hopper and I track down Palmer in his dressing room and, you know, we give him a shake down.  Old school style. Like back when Hopper was on the force. … he did most of the shaking down, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely going to get in there, but he seemed to really enjoy it. Plus I had just gotten my hair done.

***

When Steve reappears in the green room half an hour later, Hopper is trailing him smiling giddily. 

Coming up to your side, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans into your hair to murmur, “We took care of it.”  The giant grin Hopper is sporting lets you know that they had and you exhale a sigh of relief, curling a hand against his bicep gratefully.

You spring back a few seconds later when you feel Eddie’s heavy gaze from the spot he occupied next to you, eyes boring into all the places your body is touching Steve’s.

You can sense Steve’s confusion at the lost contact but before anything else can be said or done, the stage manager appears to move escort the band to the sound stage saving you from having to navigate the complex social dynamic of interacting with your fake boyfriend who wants to be your real boyfriend and your band rival turned friend-with-benefits. Gratefully, you allow yourself to believe for the first time, that maybe luck would be on your side and tonight wouldn’t be so bad.

***

NANCY: Do I think Chris Palmer had a personal vendetta against her? No, not going into that night, anyway. I think he was just a misogynistic idiot who didn’t know what to do about a talented and beautiful woman who also did whatever she wanted.  His mind couldn’t wrap around that.

That was true for a lot of men back then. And now too.

JONATHAN: It felt like Chris had a personal vendetta against her.

***

The first half of the interview went well enough.

The band was welcomed with great fanfare and everyone filed towards the couches in the center of the stage next to the large mahogany desk Chris sat behind. You and Steve were, of course, together at the forefront and you could hear the collective cooing when he helped you down the platform.

The interview started out mild, questions about the tour and being on the road. Thankfully, Steve took the helm for most of them with the band weighing in throughout.

To your surprise, Chris directs his next question to you and Eddie.

“You two are the newest additions to the band, how has the transition been coming from working as a solo artist and from a band of a whole different genre to the Downsides and what made you want to make the change?”

The question was surprisingly insightful which took you a second to process and come up with an answer that wasn’t “Well, Chris, we were forced to join The Downsides at the risk of our careers ending completely.”

Eddie beats you to it, “The royalty checks are better than they are when you’re in a metal band for one—“ it takes the audience a second to realize this is a joke, but when they do the laugh pays off— “but honestly, I like the stability. What they don’t tell you, kids, is that too much rock and roll can be bad for you.” He says this part directly to the camera with a devilish grin.

“What about you?” Chris turns to you once the laughter subside, “do you miss being a free agent?”

You ignore how pointed that feels and smile in response.

“Not at all, the band has been super welcoming and there’s something really rewarding about working together to make something great happen.”

“Don’t miss your old duet partners at all?” The host needles.

“No, not really. At the risk of sounding cheesy Chris, I think I found my forever duet partner,” you punctuate your response with a pointed smile at Steve.

The audience eats your response  up but you can tell that Chris is not ready to let it go. Luckily for you, a well-timed commercial break saves you from further questioning.

When the cameras start rolling once more though and the segment is reintroduced, Chris flashes you a wolfish smile.

“So, does this mean you’ve settled down a bit more, now that you’re a one-duet partner type of gal?”

The question makes your throat run dry because you know that there’s another, much tricker question behind it.

“No, not at all. It’s nice to be a part of something,” you respond placidly.

Chris barely lets you finish before launching into, “well the press sure does miss writing about you! Did you know that, in the last year, you were one of the most mentioned stars on Subrosa, popping up a total of 65 times only rivaled by one Evelyn Hugo in 1967.”

You don’t really know what to say or where this is going but the feeling of dread in your stomach grows.

“In fact,” he continues, “why don’t we play a game that we cooked up with the help of your Subrosa mentions?”

Games were something Chris did with his guests pretty frequently and they varied in execution but in nature there was always something a bit embarrassing to them and tonight was no exception. But instead of going after the band as a whole, this game was targeted specifically at you .

It was a guessing game, “Simple enough,” Chris touted as his assistants bring out giant blown up headshots of various male celebrities, guess which of the men you had been involved with according to the media and which ones you hadn’t been. The joke of course was that you had been linked to all the men whose pictures had been provided.

The looks of shock on your bandmates’ faces perfectly countered the one of self-satisfaction painted on Chris’s smarmy face.

You felt Steve stiffen beside you, leg twitching as if he was getting ready to stand up and leave. Or punch Chris. Before he can, you place a stabilizing leg on his thigh and giving a squeeze. You didn’t want this to diverge into a fight and you refuse to let this vile man make a fool of you on live television.

“Well, this won’t do,” you smirk at Chris. “You only have half of my list out here, Chris! You’re missing quite a few other fellas. I thought you wanted to make this difficult.”

“Oh?” The host is clearly not expecting your response but has no choice to lean in since you clearly have the audience’s attention, “and who could we possibly be missing?”

“The crown prince of Monaco, for starters,” you respond, evenly, “and the entire Harlem Globetrotters ‘83 starting lineup—“ the crowd guffaws at your clear exaggeration, “—and most importantly, this guy,” you reach over to grab Steve’s chin and affectionately squeeze his face. At this, laughter turns into applause and from where you are sitting on the shared couch, you see Chris’s jaw tighten.

“Is there anyone who’s hasn’t made the list?” he cries, trying to turn the joke back on you.

“You, for starters,” you respond playfully, and then add before he can say anything, “but who knows? Maybe this band thing doesn’t work out and in a few years time I’ll become washed up and lower my standards and you and I can give it a shot.”

Before Chris can retort, Steve cuts in with an over-exaggerated, faux-jealous, “what about me?”  That kicks off a jokey bit of banter between the three of you that takes the show all the way up to comercial.

***

NANCY: There was a second part to the game.   

ROBIN: Yeah, that second thing was just mean. It was essentially the same premise as the first guessing game but instead of guessing different men she had been associated with, it was different nicknames she had been given by the media. They were not very nice names either, “Siren of the Strip”, “Heartbreak of Hollywood”, “Pop Music’s Maneater”, you get the gist.

Of course, like with the last “game” the joke was that it had been all is them.

***

The names had been a surprise.  You didn’t know how to react and neither did your bandmates although you’re pretty sure you can feel the heat from Eddie’s glare from the other end of the set.

Still, you kept your cool and  immediately admitted that all of them seemed familiar and instead turned the conversation into criticisms of each of the names, which was gaining too many laughs for Chris to try to stop it.

“See this one I don’t like at all,” you say, pointing to Malibu Minx that had been professionally printed on a giant poster board in newspaper font.

“Whys that?” The host asked wolfishly.

“Malibu Minx? Are you serious? Anyone with half a brain knows I’m from the Hills, not Malibu. Honestly, it’s a little insulting.”

“Come on, they can’t be that different,” Chris still plays along, even though your comment did not go where he wanted it to.

“Not at all! The Hills is where all the directors and actors live, Malibu is where divorced dads take their kids during their monthly weekend visits. It’s like, here on the east coast… well, I can’t think of an East Coast equivalent. Chris, help me out, where do you take your kids during your monthly visits?”

***

ROBIN: You should’ve seen his face when she said that.

NANCY: His first divorce had just gone public a few weeks prior. Guess it was still a sore spot. Not that he didn’t deserve it, he did, but he wasn’t used to his guests fighting back like that. The rest of the show was… tense and then after the show ended Palmer lost his cool.

STEVE: Honestly, I wanted to punch the guy since he brought out his stupid  little games, but I was willing to leave things as they were that night, especially after she had put Palmer in his place, but we get backstage after the show and he starts yelling at her about having “embarrassed” him or something like he hadn’t essentially called her a bunch of names on live tv. Before any of us could even do anything though, Hopper had him pinned against the wall, saying stuff like “I thought we had come to an agreement about the jokes, Palmer.”

He gave him a good shake down, you know how intimidating Hopper can be. Plus Chris looked like he had never been in a fight in his life so he was shaking in his boots immediately. Security had to come to get Hopper off of him and we were all thrown out after that.

ROBIN: Yeah, we were never asked back after that not that we would’ve gone back.It was a shame for him, really, that 1984 episode of The Nightly Show with Chris Palmer was one of the most viewed episodes in the ten years he was on the air.

***

You return to your hotel room in the early hours of the morning, after having gone for celebratory drinks with Hopper and the rest of the band.  Everyone had been thoroughly impressed with the way you had held your own against Chris and even previously-icy Robin seemed impressed and warmed by you.

You hadn’t had much of an opportunity to talk to Eddie throughout the night, something about the undecipherable expression he wore most of the night had left you curious and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe hearing your entire history splayed out like that in front of him and the rest of the world had soured you and he no longer wants anything to do with you.

As you’re getting ready for bed, the ringing coming from the hotel phone jolts you.

“Hello?” You breathe out, harried and confused into the handset.

“Hey, I didn’t wake you did I?” Eddie’s concerned question statics over the line.

“No,” you respond, relief coloring your tone, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, really, I was just thinking how hot it was when you told that dickbag off and I was wondering if you’d be up to me showing you that.”

“Showing me what, exactly?”

“Showing you how hot I think you are. If you’re up for it, of course?”

25 minutes later, with Eddie’s face buried messily in your pussy you’re near inching closer to release when you hear him muttering into the soft skin of your thigh while two of his skilled fingers begin pumping in an out of your tight heat.

“You know, if I didn’t know better, seeing you all hot and desperate to come on my fingers like this would make me think you are a minx.”

Hearing him call you that so low and growly, left you burning all over and you keen into his hands. Knowing his words had the intended effect, Eddie smirks into your thigh and speeds up his fingers.

“Only for you,” you respond once you can find your voice again.

Eddie give a low moan at this and in an instant he clamors up onto the bed and moves to replace his fingers with his dick.

“Say that again,” he challenges as he swipes his tip through your folds and you cry out.

“I’m a minx for you,” you nod along to what you’re saying, hoping that it makes him more eager to stop teasing and finally push inside you.

He does exactly as you hoped and pushes his hips into you hungrily, setting a punishing pace, “Only for me right?”

You nod along, fucked out and on the verge of coming agian, “Yes, only for you, Eddie.”

You don’t make it back to your hotel room that night either.

***

MAY 11TH, 1984–BRIDGEPORT, CT—THE UPSIDE DOWN TOUR

“Are you sure the’d still want to meet me?” You ask Steve one evening, brushing your hair standing in the doorway of the door that separated your hotel room from his.

“Yeah, of course! Why do you keep asking that? Wait… do you not want to meet them anymore? It’s okay if you don’t,” Steve is already trying to hide his disappointment.

“No,” you rush to correct as you follow the sound of his voice to the bathroom, “it’s not that at all it’s just that, well with all the Minx stuff in the news, I worry that maybe they won’t think I’m worthy of the Harrington brood or whatever.”

You’re of course referring to the drama that had followed the band’s appearance on the Chris Palmer show where Chris had given an interview to Subrosa after you had affectively embarrassed him on his own show calling the band talentless and you worthy of every bad name that the press could call you and more.

In response to the interview—and partially inspired by your encounter with Eddie following the interview— you had gotten the word ‘Minx’ embroidered on the back of your favorite suede jacket which you made sure to wear to all of your subsequent interviews and media appearances for the rest of the band’s time in New York.

“First of all,” Steve begins,  rubbing shaving cream over his chin “neither of my parents would ever dream of reading a gossip magazine and even if they did, they hate Chris Palmer, always said he was too ‘blue’ whatever that means. Plus, historically, dinners with my parents haven’t been the most enjoyable affairs, so having you there would really mean a lot to me.”

You smile understandingly at him through the mirror and suddenly the whole domesticity of it all strikes you. In another life, the two of you could’ve simply been a couple discussing meeting one another’s parents in the bathroom of a shitty apartment the two of you shared.

The fantasy is interrupted abruptly by a bright cacophony of knocks at your door.

“That must be Eddie,” you explained,  “he’s coming over to write.”

(He really was.)

With all the fucking the two of you had been doing, writing music had fallen to the wayside and as the end of the tour was insight and Murray’s quota of songs still not met, which meant you had to get writing.

You scramble over to your door and let Eddie in. He almost leans in for a kiss but catches himself when he notices the open door leading into Steve’s room where he is very much watching the interaction with prying eyes.

The two nod at each other in greeting. You linger in the middle between either sides the awkwardness tangible in the air. You look at Eddie’s urging eyes and then flash back to Steve whose puppy dog gaze and newly received information about his parents make you do something that is surprising even to yourself.

“Do you want to help us write, Steve?”

The situation is awkward at first, especially with the glares Eddie seems to shoot you and Steve’s shy insistence that he’s no good at writing music but eventually, after two bottles of wine, the tension subsides, at least a little.

Eddie and you had presented Steve with a few songs that were very close to done but just needed a bit more work on the melody hoping that maybe he had suggestions.

He scans over a song that Eddie had primarily written, “Wild Ride”. Steve had an idea for a rhythm that could match the song and before long, he and Eddie were fully invested, both of them bent over their guitars trying out the rhythm and shooting notes at each other. Arrangement  was definitely not your strong suit, however, you were more than happy to watch the two guitarists work

Steve was fascinatingly somber when it came to writing. He would play the notes over and over again until he found what came next, treating the whole thing like a puzzle that needed to be solved and running his hands through his hair when he was particularly stuck on something. His eyes would close while he was thinking, his lashes fluttering on his cheeks and then blinking open prettily when he had finally thought of a solution.

Eddie was much less delicate and would play around with notes, sometimes scrapping what he had all together and starting new. He tucked a pen behind his ear and was constantly scribbling and crossing out. When he focused on playing, his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth a bit.

They worked well together, never talked over each other, and were always willing to listen to what the other had come up with. As Eddie would write notes down in his notebook, Steve would lean in really close, so they were almost cheek to cheek looking down at the paper together. It almost seemed like they’d forgotten you were there and you were too busy refining some lackluster choruses to notice.

Eventually, they hit a wall in their writing and more drinks were ordered through room service, and soon the three of you are sprawled across your bed, drinking French 75s and watching a late night marathon of “Night Court”.

“Hey Harrington, you excited to see your folks soon?” Eddie asks during a comercial break.

You turn to look and see Steve grimace at the question. You know Eddie means well in asking, but the question ruffles Steve nonetheless.

“Not really. We were never really close on account of them sending me away to boarding school when I was eleven and then when we were together my dad’s favorite pastime was criticizing me and my mom’s was drinking,” Steve says, finally, “seeing them once a year is probably the most I can stand, honestly.”

A beat of silence settles over the group before Eddie finally speaks.

“Sorry to hear that man. If it makes you feel better, my folks weren’t exactly parents of the year either,” Eddie responds.

“That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, my uncle took me in. He’s a great guy. What about you, Princess? Were your parents the perfect image of love and support?”

You scoff. “Barely. I went back to their house right before the tour started, to get some of my things, and they thought I was breaking in and called the cops.”

“Well,” Eddie bristles, “looks like being a terrible parent can happen across all tax brackets, huh?”

“Yeah, we kinda got fucked over, a bit,” you say and the other two murmur in agreement.

The three of you stay silent for a bit, processing what had been shared and how to possibly move past such a heavy topic.

It’s Steve who finally breaks the silence, “Do you guys think Dan and Christine will ever get together?”

“Oh, yeah.” “Definitely.”

***

“This restaurant is obscenely nice,” you shift uncomfortable in your chair, taking in the surrounds and the unfamiliar unease of being somewhere where you felt out of place. Of course, you had grown up in fine dining establishments in California, but East Coast wealth seemed like a different beast entirely.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Robin huffs next to you, “but what else can you expect from Stan and Carolyn? They’re obsessed with letting everyone know how rich they are.”

She of course, had the advantage of knowing Steve’s parents after over a decade of friendship and it made sense that Steve, wanting as much of a buffer between himself and his parents during this dinner, had invited her along as well. So far, she had only been a little hostile towards you which was a personal victory.

The two of you spot Steve entering the restaurant at the same time along with two middle-aged companions that, based off resemblance alone, you knew were his parents.

Steve’s father had the same starkly defined chin and nose as his son, but none his face didn’t turn up into a natural smile like his son. He stood stately and stern, eyes surveying the room with little interest. His wife, Steve’s mother, was made up of refined, delicate features offset by the bright eyes that were clearly passed on to her son. Her entire outfit was meticulously perfect in a way that almost seemed artificial.

Steve introduces you with fanfare and pride that you don’t consider yourself worthy of but you smile along anyway and graciously shake Mr. Harrington’s hand and exchange dotted cheek kisses with Mrs. Harrington.

You exchange niceties and think to yourself maybe they won’t be so bad.

“Stan, Carolyn, it’s so nice to see you again,” Robin grits out through a tight smile.

Carolyn pats her on the shoulder in response and says,, “Please dear, call us Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. We’re out in public after all.”

***

ROBIN: Yeah, Carolyn and Stan hated me. It was like they could smell the gay on me. Or the poor. From the moment Steve had invited me over to spend spring break with them in the Hamptons they did not like me. They despised the idea of their son’s best friend being some scholarship kid whose parents were public school teachers. However bad they were to me though, they were far worse to Steve, which is why I ever even bothered going to these lunches. I didn’t want him to have to suffer through them alone.

***

“Sorry we’re late,” Mr. Harrington drawls as the three of them take their seats at the table, “our idiotic son forgot to bring cash for the valet.” His statement is punctuated by a mirthless laugh and you can tell by the matching expressions on Steve and Robin’s faces and the way Mrs. Harrington makes a grab for the bottle of wine on the table that this level of disparagement is normal for the Harrington household. You remember the comment Steve had made a few nights ago about his father’s favorite pastime

“Don’t worry,” you respond with a smooth smile, “we’re so used to having drivers back in LA—“ a lie “—I can see why Steve forgot about valet. Although, I’m sure you both know what that’s like.”

Mr. Harrington stalled. Everyone at the table—including you—knew that the Harringtons were nowhere near wealthy enough to afford personal drivers but if there was one thing insecure men, like Stan Harrington would never do is admit that they couldn’t afford something.

You were familiar with these types of ego games from your youth, although you took no pleasure in them.

Your youth was spent tucked into your mothers skirts during luncheons and tea and fashion fittings, listening as the women would eviscerate each other with laser-edge precision. If there was anything your mother had taught you was how to sow the seeds of insecurity in someone and although it did not come naturally, you could make an exception for Stan Harrington.

***

ROBIN: It was easy to forget most of the time that she came from money but damn, the way she handled Stan that night made me think that some politician was missing out on having her as their cutthroat third wife. It was like watching an artist paint or someone do sleight of hand magic. He would say something mean about Steve and she would just turn it right back around on him but she would be smiling and batting her eyes the entire time. Even with that though, it wasn’t an easy lunch to get through.

***

“It’s so nice that Stevie was able to make something of himself through his little music,” Carolyn fawns. She means well, for the most part, but the four glasses of wine she’s downed during the last twenty minutes makes her words come out just a tad but demeaning.

Her husband sneers in response, “You say that now, Carolyn, but soon he’ll be back here asking for a spot in the firm.”

“Hopefully not too soon,” you giggle in response running a hand alongside Steve’s arm, “the studio wants us recording our second album as soon as we get back and then we’ll be touring again and we’ll need him for that.”

“But darling, you can’t possibly expect to do that for the rest of your life,” Mrs. Harrington sighs, “eventually the two of you will want to settle down and have children, live a normal life.”

“Well, yeah Mom, but that’ll be a long time down the road—“

“Making music is our life, we don’t want to ever stop—“

You and Steve halt your explanation once you realize what the other is saying. The two of you exchange blank, confused looks and it’s not until Robin says, “I’m sure that they’ll decide what their next move is when the time comes. We still have plenty of time.” That the two of you jolt back into the conversation.

“Right,” you add, “plus with the royalties deal we just secured on this new album, we will be pretty stable financially.”

The rest of the lunch is spent fielding Mr. Harrington’s questions about financials and Mrs. Harrington’s questions about grandchildren. It’s exhausting but the three of you come out mostly unscathed.

The five of you part ways outside of the restaurant, and not a moment too soon. The wave of relief that washes over the three of you once the Harringtons have been sent on their way in a taxi is palpable.

You and Robin offer to buy Steve a drink for having survived the lunch and Steve offers to buy the two of you a drink as a thank you for playing roles in that. Soon, one drink each turns into multiple rounds of drinks spent recounting all the agonizing points of the lunch.

This leaves the three of you stumbling into your hotel in the early hours of the evening, completely and utterly drunk. You ride the elevator together, a mess of laughter and then bid goodbye to one another in front of Robin’s door. She’s ready to sleep off the drinking and you do not blame her.

This leaves you and Steve to stumble back to your joint rooms together.

“You know, seeing you today having dinner with my parents and my best friend almost made the whole thing feel real,” Steve says lowly, standing in your doorway.

“Steve don’t,” you plea softly.

“I just don’t get it,” he cries in response, “we would be so good together. We are good together: we have so much in common and we just make sense, everyone thinks so except for you. Just… tell me why wouldn’t you give us a shot?”

You’re in your room now, perched on the edge of the bed , teary eyes focused on everything in the room other than the man who stands in front of you.

“Steve that’s not fair. It’s just never going to work, why can’t you accept that?”

“Because I’m in love with you,” Steve blurts out, “and I know I may not be your first choice, but if you give me a chance I will prove that I’m good enough—“

“Steve, stop please don’t say that, you’re plenty good enough for anyone,” you stand now, to face him.

“Just not you,” he says devastated.

“No, listen, it’s not like that. I just, I don’t know if I can be with someone in the way that you want me to, okay? You want someone to eventually settle down with and I’m not that girl. I’m the fucking Minx for God’s sake not someone’s future wife. In another life maybe, we could’ve made each other very happy, who knows? But in this one, I can’t be what you want.”

The two of you stand there in silence for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Steve moves, walking past you to sit in your vanity chair.

“Is there someone else you have feelings for?” He asks, timidly.

“No, no,” you insist. “I told you, I don’t do that.”

He laughs mirthlessly in response, “I think you’re wrong about that. I think you’ll find someone, maybe not now or in a year or in five years, but eventually you will find someone and they will make you want to try and you will love them and I will have to watch you fall in love with them and we will both realize I was just not worth it.”

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